All his life, Florent Schmitt was an inveterate traveler … but we think of his globetrotting primarily in connection with Europe, the Mediterranean Region, the Middle East, South Asia and Brazil, rather than North America.

And in fact, the composer was to travel to the United States only one time his life – in 1932 at the invitation of his friend Serge Koussevitzky, conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

Maestro Koussevitzky had commissioned Schmitt to write a piano concerto to commemorate the BSO’s 50th anniversary, a work he composed in 1931 and premiered with the orchestra in Boston on November 25, 1932.  Schmitt played the challenging piano part himself.

Schmitt visit to America was sponsored, in part, by the New York-based League of Composers. International in its outlook, the League welcomed an impressive range of composers to the United States — including Bartók, Hindemith, Milhaud, Prokofiev, Schoenberg and Villa-Lobos in addition to Schmitt — before merging with the International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM) in 1954.

The piece Schmitt brought to America stands as a unique creation among the composer’s works. Carrying the opus number 82, it represents a clear break from the style of Schmitt’s earlier compositions – far more modern, even dissonant. Moreover, it isn’t a concerto in the conventional sense. Instead, the composer named it Symphonie concertante. According to the musical essayist Benoit Deuteurtre, “Schmitt, who did not really appreciate the conventional dialogue between soloist and orchestra, preferred to merge the piano and orchestra.”

It’s an amazing piece of music. It is also less immediately “approachable” than many other works by the composer, and for some listeners the jagged harmonies and spikey rhythms will come as a surprise.  Indeed, at the time of its composition more than one person dubbed the piece the Symphonie déconcertante (“Disconcerting Symphony”) for precisely that reason.

The British author and music critic Lionel Salter, writing in the 1996 book A Guide to the Concerto, provides this cogent description of the Symphonie concertante:

“It is described as ‘for orchestra and piano’ — and the order is significant, since although the keyboard part … is of great complexity and difficulty, its role is that only of a first among equals. The work (which provoked an uproar at its first Paris appearance [June 29, 1933 at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées]) is characterized by richly sensuous post-impressionist harmony, often dense texture, and themes that all seem to be striving upwards to the light; and the central movement, which rises to a violent climax, at first appears to be echoing the insistent bell-tolling of Ravel’s Le Gibet.”

The Boston premiere must have struck more than a few members of the audience similarly. We have clues to this based on a review of the concert that was written by Joseph G. Brennan, a precocious 22 year-old who was then-editor of The Stylus, a publication of the students of Boston College. We’ll let Brennan’s words do the talking:

“Boston was recently honored by the visit of the eminent French composer, Florent Schmitt. Mr. Schmitt played the piano part in his Symphonie concertante for orchestra and piano which was performed by Serge Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Schmitt’s best-known work is the symphonic tone poem La Tragédie de Salomé, and it is probably his masterpiece. For Salomé is one of the most powerful, if not one of the most wholesome, pieces of modern music.

The Symphonie concertante proved to be a miasmic swamp of tone, and little else. It was all Dr. Koussevitzky and his valiant crew could do to stagger through the work without breaking down. The piece raised an unholy din. The last movement changed in time-signature almost from bar to bar. The gigantic machinery of the whole affair groaned, shrieked, roared, stalled twice, and finally lurched to a welcome stop. A quick-witted youth in the audience opined that the entire composition was the musical equivalent of a Bronx cheer.

The huge work had its moments — but they were few, and when they occurred they brought memories of Salomé. Mr. Schmitt is still sincere, but he is getting old. His hand has lost its cunning.”

Grace May Stutsman, an arts journalist writing in the December 10, 1932 issue of Musical America magazine, also found the piece hard to digest — and she commented on the extreme difficulty of the music as well:

“Mr. Schmitt both rides the whirlwind and floats upon the waters of a millpond. He wanders through pleasant glades (occasionally), and then without warning is suddenly up and off on a mad dash with Phaeton. Such abrupt transitions in mood are disconcerting even to the most patient listener. In this instance, they appear to offer evidence of a singular self-consciousness on the part of Mr. Schmitt, who seems fairly well-determined to conceal, if possible, his inmost thoughts.

That he does not always succeed, however, is revealed in the slow movement of the piece, which contains some beautiful measures, if we may be allowed to judge them by accepted musical standards. This movement evoked sincere applause from an audience which, for the most part, found its keenest pleasure in the extreme virtuosity of Dr. Koussevistzky and his men, who do not deny that in this work, dedicated to them, Mr. Schmitt has supplied the most difficult score they have yet undertaken.”

In a report on the premiere peformance that was published on November 26, 1932, the reviewer for the Christian Science Monitor wrote:

“Previous hearings of Mr. Schmitt’s works had left us with the impression that he was the most German of French composers. This new score compels a modification of that opinion. There is still the German influence, but the Symphonie concertante is perhaps best described as cosmopolitan, or international. It reveals fellowship not only with Wagner and Debussy, but with Ravel, with Honegger, with Stravinsky — and with Mossolov. This is not to say that  the score is imitative; it is too cerebral for that …

The work was rather cooly received by the Friday afternoon subscribers, but Mr. Schmitt need not feel too badly over that. A work so strictly intellectual and so free from any ingratiating element does not easily appeal to an audience on first hearing. There is a lyric element in the slow movement, together with some of the enchanting atmosphere which we have come to consider distinctly French; but the first and last movements are uncompromising in their dissonance and their violence. The last movement in particular contains rhythms which seem more complicated than Stravinsky’s own. The erudite workmanship is easily discernable, but the piece is not likely to become popular.

This difficult score was played with the greatest virtuosity by the orchestra, which was justly called upon by the conductor to share the applause which an enthusiastic minority persisted in at the close.”

Several decades later, when asked by Bernard Gavoty and Jean-Yves Daniel-Lesur to comment for a book these two musican-authors were preparing on modern classical music, Florent Schmitt spoke about the audience’s reception at the first Paris performances of the Symphonie concertante, presented on June 29, 1933 at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées (with Albert Wolff conducting and the composer as soloist), next in 1934 by the Pasdeloup Orchestra at the Salle Gaveau (with Pierre Monteux conducting with the composer as soloist), and then in 1936 at the Théâtre du Chatelet (played by pianist Hélène Pignari with Paul Paray conducting).

The composer reported:

“It received a friendly welcome [at the Salle Gaveau], whereas two years later at the Chatelet — with Hélène — it was ten minutes of whistles, pugilists, and umbrellas breaking over slender shoulders.”

As the French music critic and author René Dumesnil recounted in his book La Musique en France entre les deux guerres, “Two gigs; two audiences — with that of the Chatelet only loving and admiring music written prior to 1890.”

Despite its dissonances that might come as a shock to some, if people listen closely and allow themselves to become enveloped in the grand musical fresco that Schmitt has created in this piece, many will discover an inventiveness and brilliance that is tremendously rewarding — including on an emotional level.

Speaking for myself, I find new nuances every time I listen to this work, and I’m continually amazed by the rich palette of colors the composer conjures up in the orchestra: great blocks of sound that are nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Jean-Christian Bonnet, a classical music connoisseur who is an evangelist on YouTube for French composers, is quite keen on the Symphonie concertante, remarking that it is “a highly original work that sits at the crossroads of different influences – very modern in its style yet romantic in its mood.”

Professor, author and recognized authority on piano music Maurice Hinson agrees in his essential 1981 book Music for Piano and Orchestra: An Annotated Guide, where he describes Florent Schmitt’s Symphonie concertante as a work of “considerable structural power, richness of color, and impressive eloquence.”

I concur with both assessments.  And consider this commentary from Alan Ding, another connoisseur of music from the first half of the 20th century:

“An absolute masterwork that exemplifies the best of late-Romanticism, Impressionism, and innovative Modernism, Schmitt’s writing is not only unique but incredibly polished, mature, and natural.

In my opinion, his harmonic language rivals that of Roslavets and Stravinsky in terms of complexity (yet to me, Schmitt’s harmonic innovation feels much more natural), and his pianistic figuration rivals Rachmaninov in terms of elegance ([although] clearly Schmitt’s style is far removed from that of Rachmaninov).

The orchestration is dense, but highly evocative and entirely justified; Schmitt does not waste a single note for any instrument. Yet despite the textural and harmonic innovations that Schmitt presents, the work, I feel, is not inaccessible. Emotionally appealing to the untrained ear and not needlessly abstract or jarring, it is chock-full with the ‘make it new’ fervor of Modernism, giving it a most refreshing sound [even as it] continues the Romantic tradition of placing feeling at the center of the work. Truly exemplifying the constructive improvement of art over time, this Symphonie concertante has become one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever come across.”

Like many of Schmitt’s scores, the Symphonie concertante is fiendishly difficult for both the pianist and orchestral musicians. This fact may have conspired to keep it from becoming standard concerto repertoire — although we do know that a number of important conductors chose to program the work in the first years following the Koussevitzky premiere, including Désiré Defauw, Désiré Inghelbrecht, Dmitri Mitropoulos, Pierre Monteux and Paul Paray.

Schmitt himself was the pianist in most of the early performances, including a Concerts Defauw presentation in April 1934 in Brussels. Reporting on that concert in the April 25, 1934 issue of Musical America magazine, critic Albert Huybrechts observed:

“The work is in the same rough, powerful style of The Tragedy of Salome, giving the impression of molten metal, and often reaches heights of Dionysian delirium. Unfortunately, the piano part was frequently inaudible through the orchestra, though this may have been the fault of the performance rather than of the work itself.”

Later on, the French pianist Monique Haas would include it in her repertoire, playing it with Jean Martinon and the Lamoureux Orchestra in February 1957, in a performance that the newspaper Le Monde described as “valiant”(!).

Later still, another French pianist, Françoise Petit, tackled the Symphonie concertante in a January 1982 concert performance with the Orchestre Symphonique de la Garde Républicaine led by Roger Boutry. Once described by the composer as «une pianiste sensible et fougueuse» (“a sensitive and fiery pianist”), no doubt Mme. Petit did full justice to Schmitt’s score.

Fortunately for us, the one commercial recording that’s ever been made of the Symphonie concertante is mighty fine as well. Recorded on the Valois label in 1993, it is a top-notch interpretation.  The impressive Franco-Turkish pianist Huseyïn Sermet turns in a Herculean performance on the keyboard, and he’s given grand support from conductor David Robertson and the Orchestre Philharmonique de Monte-Carlo. (In my view, it is one of the most polished performances I’ve ever heard from this orchestra.)

In its September 1994 review of the Valois recording, Gramophone magazine referred to the piece as “music of strong personality — complex, grandiose and thickly scored,” while praising the performance of Mr. Sermet. I can understand Gramophone‘s further description that characterized the middle movement of the Symphonie concertante as “a night-music piece that Bartók would have understood.”

Thanks to Jean-Christian Bonnet’s excellent and long-running YouTube music channel, you can sample all three movements of this extraordinary composition in the Sermet/Robertson recording via these links:

• I: Assez Animé — Parts 1 and 2
• II: Lent — Parts 1 and 2
• III: Animé — Parts 1 and 2

For those who would prefer to listen to the composition without breaks as well as to follow along with the score, the entire piece has been uploaded to YouTube as a single track, synchronized with the score, and can be viewed here.

From the opening explosion of sound to the thrilling flourish at the end, you will not be disappointed — or so I think.  But I welcome your comments and observations about the music.

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Update (10/13/21): The Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra has just announced its programming for the 2022-23 concert season, which will include a performance of Florent Schmitt’s Symphonie concertante — the first time the piece has been presented anywhere in years, and very likely its Japanese premiere.

The performance will feature pianist Tomoki Sakata, with the orchestral forces being led by the veteran conductor (and passionate Schmitt advocate) Yan-Pascal Tortelier. The all-French program will also include music by Gabriel Fauré and Ernest Chausson’s Symphony in B-Flat.

 

 

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Update (2/14/23):  The concert presentation of Florent Schmitt’s Symphonie concertante, featuring the brilliant young pianist Tomoki Sakata and the Tokyo Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra under the direction of Yan-Pascal Tortelier, was an artistic as well as commercial success. So reports Kitahara Toshiyuki, an IT specialist and French music-lover who had the opportunity to attend the Valentine Day’s performance at Suntory Hall.

The evening was a personal triumph for Mr. Sakata, tackling with aplomb a challenging work that hadn’t been presented in concert anywhere in the world in more than 30 years. The concert was also a dream come true for Maestro Tortelier, who reportedly had studied the score for years and always hoped for the opportunity to present it in front of an audience.

Reviewing the TMSO performance afterwards, arts blogger and Prokofiev music scholar Shin-ichi Numabe wrote:

“It was a truly moving evening. The performance was magnificent; throughout the Symphonie concertante the solo piano and orchestra were always closely linked, while fully conveying the subtlety and power of Florent Schmitt’s music.”

Grateful TMSO concert-goers were also treated to a compelling rendition of Ernest Chausson’s Symphony in B-Flat — a Tortelier specialty that is likewise too-rarely performed in concert. Click here to read an “eyewitness report” of the concert, as recounted by Mario Ishiguro, an attendee who traveled to Tokyo for the event.