If ever there were a case of a composer “protesting too much”, this is it, and I say this not to disparage the music itself, much of which is quite good and worth your time and attention. French composer Nicolas Bacri (b. 1961) has a penchant for giving his music titles–and, judging from the notes by Martin Anderson, he peppers his score with expressive indications as well. An extreme case is his Symphony No. 4, subtitled both “classical” and “Sturm und Drang”, with each movement further conceived as an homage to, respectively, Richard Strauss, Stravinsky, Schoenberg, and Weill. None of this is necessary; in fact, it’s rather deceptive.
The Schoenberg movement, for example, a minuet, is delightfully funny in its juxtaposition of traditional and dissonant harmony (none of it is atonal, or serial in any meaningful way). So why not simply let the music speak for itself? Similarly, the two concertos for oboe, one with solo violin, the other with solo cello, subtitled “Amoroso” and “Nostalgico” respectively, and also part of a larger group of “Four Seasons” concertos, sound nothing like any of their various titles (and I’m not going into the individual movements). Rather, what Bacri offers is well-wrought neoclassical music in the manner of Hindemith, Honegger, or Frank Martin, and heaven knows there’s nothing wrong with that.
You see, it’s not enough these days simply to write tonal or melodic music. It has to refer, preferably defiantly, to something earlier that’s famous whether this helps the listener or not. Bacri’s practice is basically the compositional equivalent of one of the authentic performance movement’s most aesthetically dubious basic tenets–the need to postulate (or invent) an historical pedigree in order to validate what is ultimately a purely personal artistic choice. It’s nothing more than fear and insecurity. So Bacri writes melodic music, and would probably do well (as that minuet and also the ending of “Le printemps” show) to further investigate some more traditional harmony. It would give his tunes a sharper profile and an expressive impact that would correspond more closely to his stated intentions.
That said, I can recommend this music because Bacri is in fact a composer with a recognizable and (more importantly) interesting personal style, and he’s a real craftsman. He’s also given outstanding performances by all of the soloists, Kantorow, and the Tapiola Sinfonietta. My only quibble with the engineering concerns the overly close balance of the solo winds–you can hear both the oboe valves clicking and every breath that Sharon Bezaly takes. Otherwise, the sonics are excellent. So do consider giving this disc a shot–it’s an instructive commentary on our times, and good music to boot. Let’s hope Bacri comes to realize that the latter ultimately confers on him more relevance than the former.
