DESCRIPTION:
Charles Koechlin (1867 - 1959), Les Heures Persanes Op. 65 (1913 - 1919)

Performed by Ralph van Raat

00:00 - No. 1 Sieste, avant le depart
03:35 - No. 2 La caravane (reve, pendant la sieste
09:14 - No. 3 L’escalade obscure
11:09 - No. 4 Matin frais, dans la haute vallee
13:56 - No. 5 En vue de la ville
15:41 - No. 6 A travers les rues
19:48 - No. 7 Chant du soir
21:42 - No. 8 Clair de lune sur les terrasses
24:33 - No. 9 Aubade
26:50 - No. 10 Roses au soleil de midi
29:10 - No. 11 A l'ombre, pres de la fontaine de marbre
31:33 - No. 12 Arabesques
33:19 - No. 13 Les collines, au coucher du soleil
35:58 - No. 14 Le conteur
43:21 - No. 15 La paix du soir, au cimetiere
49:40 - No. 16 Derviches dans la nuit — Clair de lune sur la place deserte

The inspiration for Les heures persanes came mainly from the book Vers Ispahan, a diary by Pierre Loti of a long journey through the former Iran. This evocative literary work immediately fired Koechlin’s vivid imagination, and he set out to reproduce the atmosphere of the book through this piano cycle in sixteen movements. It was not his objective to copy oriental music literally, but he sought merely to convey general aspects of oriental culture.

To enhance the concept of a journey, the individual pieces depict different times of the day, encompassing two and a half days all together. The first three pieces form a half-day: first, the Siesta in the afternoon in preparation for the long journey ahead. After the traveller awakens in the dark, the ascent of the dangerous and mysterious hills starts ominously. The five following movements describe the first full day: the beautiful sparks of the first rays of sun in the morning; the first glimpses of human presence in a town; arrival at this busy place, characterized by quick- paced transformations of flashing harmony; settling down for an evening song, and watching the moonlight on the terraces, before going to sleep.

The next day starts with a morning serenade, which is a tribute to Ravel. This is followed by a moment contemplating the sight of roses in the midday sun, and sheltering from its heat in the shade near a cooling fountain; the latter forms a clear classical-romantic tribute to Koechlin’s teacher Fauré. The day ends with the peace of sunset behind the hills. The quiet magic of an oriental evening brings the musical journey to a close: the listener experiences the evening peace at a cemetery, a remarkable foreshadowing of Messiaen’s Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum, and the excitingly virtuosic but mystical gestures of dervishes in the night, preceding a moonlit, deserted square. The two additional movements serve as evocative interludes.

Since Koechlin had orchestrated Debussy’s Khamma to the utmost satisfaction of its notoriously critical composer three years before commencing Les heures persanes , there are obvious relationships to be heard between this piano cycle and Debussy’s works. However, he went much further here harmonically than his French colleague had ever attempted: polytonality and atonality give a strikingly advanced musical expression to the scents and colours of far lands and new cultures. The piano writing of Les heures persanes was also completely new in its time. Koechlin’s orchestral approach is obvious with regard to the complexity of its musical layers. The colouristic chords are often so large and orchestrally conceived that they need careful consideration about how and when to break them, without disturbing the flow or articulation.

Although there is a common tendency in the rare performances of the work to translate its mystical qualities by the use of very slow and metrically free tempos, it should not be forgotten that Koechlin took Bach and Fauré as his greatest musical inspirations, and thus had developed a keen ear for structure (independent of form) and clarity, which is more classical than impressionist. Quoting Koechlin: ‘in spite of my admiration for Debussy, it cannot be said that I am a Debussyist. My style of writing and thought were different. [...] They showed a feeling – a need for rhythm and a contrapuntal style of writing in which the spirit of the fugue is never far away.’ As such, the ongoing flow and continuity of both horizontal and vertical melodic lines seems at least as important as the often already notated rhythmical flexibility.

Charles Koechlin always remained a highly respected and admired figure during his lifetime. It was not until a few decades ago, however, that the immense beauty and genius of his music was discovered by a larger audience. Today, one could possibly describe the composer as a post-modernist avant-la-lettre , with his mind typically open to every musical style or technique. Nevertheless, despite his eclecticism, the characteristic and genuine sound of Koechlin is found in all his works: the sound of craftsmanship, of artistry, and of the greatest human imagination.