For their first recording for Glossa, Les Nouveaux Caractères (under the direction of harpsichordist Sébastien d’Hérin) have alighted on a neglected dramatic work by that titan of the French Baroque, Jean-Philippe Rameau. Les Surprises de l’Amour (Cupid’s Surprises) was commissioned by Madame de Pompadour in 1748 and elements of it remained in the repertory in France for nearly a quarter of a century – albeit undergoing frequent and significant changes and reconfigurations. The version of this opéra-ballet chosen by Sébastien d’Hérin – an overture and three entrées – allows a full set of opportunities for the vocal soloists (led here by a formidable group of female singers currently based in France) to demonstrate their skills. So too for the orchestral players of Les Nouveaux Caractères – Rameau is known for the high demands which he imposes on instrumentalists. With this recording Les Nouveaux Caractères – founded in 2006 and already with a highly-developed international performing history away from their base in Lyon – make their grand entrance onto the recording scene.
Here, Sébastien d’Hérin explores the specific requirements of remaining true to the spirit of Jean-Philippe Rameau in the 21st century.
There appear to be various versions of Les Surprises de l’Amour in existence. What choices have you made for your recording and what dramatic result do you feel that you have achieved?
This long-forgotten opéra-ballet is a work – which I frequently call multi-faceted – where all the potential configurations seem to be possible, given that the work developed substantially between its first appearance in 1748 in Fontainebleau (a prologue and two entrées) and the Parisian revivals of ten years later (an instrumental overture and either two or three entrées – not always the same ones, and never following the same order). Consequently, making one’s own choice for the version of the piece to perform becomes an important one – yet one which can never be considered as definitive, since each configuration will have represented, in the France of Louis XV, one individual sense of reality for the composer (in particular, I am thinking of the first version whose prologue commemorated the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. Composing this would have been something of a political obligation for Rameau). Rameau was a perfectionist: he never stopped making improvements, since a concern for detail was always so important for him. The need of satisfying Parisian audiences (and for a limited number of performances) would equally lie behind these multiple re-workings.
So, today, the choice remains therefore a completely free one and it becomes a question of choosing the version which speaks to us – which speaks to me – the most. Les Nouveaux Caractères first performed this work in concert form (at the Festival de Sablé and in Utrecht) for which an overture and two entrées seemed to provide a good balance for the purpose of an evening’s performance. Seen from this perspective, La Lyre enchantée and Anacréon came over as being more innovative and surprising, whilst L’Enlèvement d’Adonis seemed more conventional and formal. I thus selected La Lyre enchantée on account of the complexity and the variety of its writing (especially in the dances), and then Anacréon because of its comic and theatrical aspects.
When it came to thinking about recording the work, the “musicological” question arose. Given that this release would represent a world première, I was keen to choose an ambitious version – one which would “meet the approval” of the composer – as well as benefitting from the experience acquired in concert. I thus decided to record the first Parisian version of Les Surprises de l’Amour from 1758. This consists of an overture and three entrées which, in my view, demonstrate all the facets of the genius of Rameau, who was a composer both respectful of tradition and unhesitatingly turned towards the future.
Arsène Houssaye called Pierre-Joseph Bernard (the librettist of Les Surprises de l’Amour) the “French Anacreon”. How well does Rameau reflect musically all the contrasts (love/aggression, love/indifference, love/wine) which Bernard introduces in his poetry?
Rameau is often reproached by present-day musicians for the choice of his librettists, an accusation which is rather easy to make! At first glance, it is certainly difficult to defend the intelligibility of the text of Les Surprises de l’Amour, but the power of Rameau is rightly held to rest in his capacity to transcend a text and to translate a sentiment, whether it be romantic or aggressive, into musical terms; each turn of phrase complete with its own poetic rhythm is respected and magnified by the compositional science that Rameau was practising in the 1750s. The continuo still assumes the controlling role of supporting and accompanying the singer, bringing its own framework to the language’s natural prosody.
This libretto, where each of the entrées consists of a tableau depicting Cupid’s games or schemings, is certainly rich in sudden, new developments. Whilst the plots develop a little bit, the gods are forever manipulating (!) and Pierre-Joseph Bernard’s vocabulary is full and rich. As the master of ceremonies, the composer himself makes light of the harmonic traps which he controls as a grand theoretician, adapting the unity of the tempi to stage requirements, as well as profiting from all the experience of his past tragédies lyriques, and by his own operatic skills.
By means of recitatives, ariettas, Italian arias and orchestral dances, he ends up conveying all the emotions, ones which remain today the reflections of our passions.
How does this score – across the three entrées – demonstrate Rameau’s compositional maturity, especially in the orchestral writing? What colours, techniques – and musical surprises – did he bring to the score?
The first instruction that one discovers when reading the score of the overture is “le plus vite possible” (as fast as possible)! In such a way, the general tone of the work is set. Rameau is very much a demanding composer for performers! It doesn’t seem that significant, but glancing at any time signature or movement description, or at a very simple looking melody or a dance movement, the difficulties build up to create a continuous form of singing about the tricks and games of the god Cupid.
From one point of view, the first entrée, L’Enlèvement d’Adonis, is perhaps more traditional, but it is not devoid of charm; quite the contrary. The innocence of the young hero and the calm way that he is singing contrasts with certain pages covered all over in sharp signs in a very demanding manner (even into the key of C sharp minor) which illustrate the pastoral – and thwarted – character of the goddess of the forest, Diana.
In the second entrée, La Lyre enchantée, Rameau makes use of novel orchestration procedures for that time. Here, I am thinking in particular of the frequently-employed technique of the violins being required to play pizzicato and three-part chords, to the point of indicating the number of these required to accompany the sweet song of a muse. Perhaps this is the translation into orchestral terms of an imaginary instrument, of a magic lyre? The ballet – or rather the pantomime – is here of a rare modernity and intensity, the traditional movements of the suite are short, sometimes without repeats, each one frantically following on from the previous one.
The final entrée, Anacréon, is the most theatrical and the most operatic: the compositional process is carried out in a more illustrative way, being placed at the service of the madness of the character of Anacreon, seized by passion and intoxication; lost. Anacreon experiences one of the most remarkable of orchestral storms scenes: unrelenting piccolos depict furious winds, given rhythm by progressive arpeggios played on the strings. The effectiveness of all this is formidable, worthy of the most virtuoso of Italian composers.
This was a time when the canonical requirements of French music – such as practised by Lully – were still in force. Yet Rameau, who is however asserting himself as the representative of our national music, abandons here certain characteristics such as the five-sectioned orchestra (that of two violins, two violas and bass). Similarly, in each act he gives into the charms of the virtuoso aria – Italian, of course – which he entrusts on each occasion to the first soprano. Under his influence, the French style is progressively metamorphosing and, little by little, one sees it painted in warmer and more seductive colours, as reflected in his tempi.
Did that same maturity introduce new demands for the vocal performers? How does Les Surprises de l’Amour compare vocally Rameau’s operas?
From the vocal point of view, the score of Les Surprises de l’Amour displays a number of very specific features and it is difficult to compare it to the great operas of the same period, there being few soloists in number here (a quintet for each entrée). Essentially, we are working with tableaux. However, even if the characters are only present for a short time, the art of declamation continues to be an indispensable quality in order to “raise your sounds up to the heavens” (La Lyre enchantée, final scene).
In L’Enlèvement d’Adonis, four sopranos are vying for the attention of the title role of Adonis. In La Lyre enchantée the usual quartet is made use of, whilst in Anacréon the presence of the tenor soloist is basically non-existent. Astonishing! Rameau is therefore appearing to favour – and is wishing to entrust – the leading roles to agile and virtuoso sopranos, whilst at the same time in the majority of his tragédies lyriques he was highlighting roles for the voices of haute-contre and the taille. Is it the opera-ballet form of the amorous themes which is dictating this choice? It is difficult to provide an answer here, but it seems right that the period has nothing to do with it.
You formed Les Nouveaux Caractères in 2006 with Caroline Mutel. What approach are you endeavouring to bring to the music that you perform? Are you concentrating on Baroque music, or will you consider works from other epochs?
Together with Caroline Mutel I have had, since we started Les Nouveaux Caractères, the constant concern of which scores to choose to perform. However, our first filter has always been the dramatic content: “opera and theatrically-inspired musical forms”. The French Baroque operatic repertory is, of course, our first pool to consider drawing from, with the tragédies lyriques (from Lully to Rameau by way of Campra and Colin de Blamont...), but also the religious works – be they intimate (I am thinking of the Leçons de Ténébres by Monsieur Couperin), or grandiose (we have recently performed some of the grands motets by Mondonville).
It gives me pleasure recalling how I fell right into the “boiling stew” of Baroque music: it has been the harpsichord which has accompanied me from the beginning of my involvement here, and perhaps it is because of that instrument that I have always planned a performance of a work by considering what would have been going on beforehand. This, I believe, is one of the strengths which permits Les Nouveaux Caractères to be involved in an uninhibited way in interpretation, without fear of betraying the composer.
As for Caroline, she understands the details and refinements of the operatic tradition from across all musical history. She is a key piece on our chessboard and, as a result of her double role as an operatic soprano and as a stage director, she brings a broader vision to the works, a precious distance with which to be able to polish our restorations.
From time immemorial there has existed a tradition, and we are endeavouring to respect this so as not to misrepresent the works or betray them. That said, French music alone does not reflect our general activity. We pass by turns from works neglected (mistakenly) by posterity to great Baroque operas such as Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo or even Dido and Aeneas and The Fairy Queen, both by Purcell. We are currently studying the feasibility of putting on an opera by Handel for next season. In each case, it is a huge pleasure for us to come face to face with these monuments and we are always trying to find an individual and distinctive – whilst accurate – angle with which to be highlighting them.
We also believe in the modernity of these works, in their resonance for the public of today, with what experience tells us of the spirit of the works in their own time. For Rameau we had, for example, some constraints linked to the size of the instrumental and choral groups. Whilst Rameau had available to him a huge orchestra, for which he wanted yet more additional musicians (18 or 19 violins!), today “his” reality is difficult to realize! Nonetheless, we took care to respect the proportions within the desks of strings in the limits of “our” reality. In the same way, Rameau identified the singers’ continuo accompaniment as consisting of a small group made up of three cellos and a bass instrument, a practice which – to my knowledge – has rarely been tried out these days, and which we therefore have incorporated.
We have also made some incursions into the music from the early 19th century, from both French and Italian composers. I am especially thinking of Cherubini who used to be considered the most French of the Italians, and in the near future we hope to get to grips with a work from the 20th century repertory, perhaps Britten...
What does your residency in La Chapelle de la Trinité in Lyon allow you to achieve as far as introducing and developing programmes is concerned?
The faith that the Chapelle de la Trinité and its director Éric Desnoues have in our work represents an enormous opportunity for us. Without this support, and in the face of an overabundant artistic offering, we could not be able to undertake ambitious projects such as Les Surprises de l’Amour. In Lyon, where no period performance orchestra had wanted to set itself up before we did (and it is where I live), the work carried out with the Chapelle has represented different aspects in the last three years: our involvement and standing in Lyon but also in France nationally, and outside the country.
At the same time as the large concerts which we are putting on there we are focusing on the development of local projects of a lighter and more “transportable” nature, in some cases designed for children, such as a theatrical project carried out with the Image Aiguë company based around Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (which is being performed in October in the Théâtre de la Croix Rousse in Lyon).
All that local, national and international outreach which we have been able to achieve has also been made possible thanks to support from the Ville de Lyon, from the Région Rhône-Alpes and from the Ministère de la Culture en Région. This year at the Chapelle we are devoting ourselves to two wonderful works by Monteverdi: the Vespro della Beata Vergine in the context of the Festival of Lights on December 8, and subsequently L’Orfeo.
MARK WIGGINS© 2013 Note 1 Music / Glossa MusicPhotographs by Clémence Hérout