The Beating of My Heart Has Stopped

Nothing more beautiful than being able to surround yourself with family and friends. And so, thanks to Les frères Francoeur, the baroque bonds between Théotime Langlois de Swarte and Justin Taylor were once drawn so intensely, inspiringly and intimately. Only in this way does this French duo, recorded with a Jacob Stainer and a harpsichord "mis au grand clavier par Joseph Colesse", pay heavenly tribute to both a musical family and to that one, 'rebellious' companion of Francoeur the Younger. They already shared the same first name, but even more so they became two hands in one glove. And four on one keyboard? Not really. For François Francoeur (1698-1787) and François Rebel (1701-1775) got to know each other as violinists, in the opera orchestra, and would subsequently engage together, for much of the 18th century, in what might be called compositorial co-authorship avant la lettre. With their figurative little airs they embellished the theater together: an equally tender as finely chiseled Gavotte "pour les Muses et les Plaisirs", an intoxicating Musette – regrettably not "pour les guerriers" – or fortunately still much other heartwarming entertainment. "Impossible de savoir la part de l'un et de l'autre dans l'élaboration de ces partitions. Ils font représenter des tragédies, des ballets et plusieurs miniatures en un acte, tant à la cour qu'à Paris, avec un succès certain", writes Benoît Dratwicki about this in the cd booklet of Les frères Francoeur. As for instance in the (most) lovely languishing hit number that was set as it were as the 2nd trophy on this incomparable recording. Parbleu, with their Deuxième air those rebellious Françoises (pl.) come right in: Fleeting seducers Both the theatrical piece you just heard, as well as that tender Gavotte with which this splendid disc opens the dance, were written back then, in 1745, for a life-sustaining diversion, titled Le trophée: music to forget the misery that the victory of the French army at Fontenoi and the conquest of Tournai had brought with it? Because that was roughly the spoils of war at the time. On cd both musical triumphs almost immediately catch in the throat, as super-sensuous gestures that make you crave more. For the sake of clarity, not immediately the Air pour les guerriers from the love tragedy Pyrame et Thisbé (1726), also called "l'Opéra des enfants" or "l'Opéra des deux François". But rather a five-part sonata for violin and basso continuo by one Jean-Jacques Baptiste Anet (1676-1755). Thus particularly the melancholic Vivace from his eleventh sonata in C minor is surprisingly less cheerful than by definition expected, but phrased by Théotime Langlois de Swarte above all in a particularly moving manner. In the subsequent Allegro Justin Taylor then reveals himself to be the driving force – the power of ten fingers in action. Finally all embellishments are driven to the point of equally fraternal and resolute dialogue (Giga – Allegro). That intoxicating Musette from a new prologue to Les Augustales (1744) later, an interim state is known. Two words, to characterize this album somewhat: (f)leeting seduction. With Justin and Théo:

Truly candid

Just one genuinely silly question: which of the Francoeur brothers was actually the most capable composer? Was it Louis Francoeur, "l'Aîné" thus (ca. 1692-1745). Or rather François "le Cadet". Well, they were undoubtedly a match for each other, it turns out. Both from the concluding Rondeau from the sonata in G minor by François (opus 2, no. 6, 1730) and from Louis' indescribable Largo from the sonata in B minor (opus 1, no. 6, 1715). With these two pieces, the core of Les frères Francoeur is reached. Registers are opened, and the soul of their music is delightfully laid bare and revealed. These genuinely authentic performances moreover make us realize that today, in potential, we can experience the most beautiful of musical times and also appreciate it at its true value. A time in which dichotomies all too often hold sway, yes even lustily celebrated down to the bone, but which in classical music, as notably between speaking and singing, are apparently overcome without any effort. How to make clear the tremendous candor of Louis' Largo, the makers of this record must have thought. As the impression of an imprint that asks for eternal reprint? Or by providing, as insidiously as movingly, a brief excerpt from Les Augustales – "Le théâtre s'éclaire". Spot on indeed! These chief songbirds, as balm for the heart, you simply must listen to. Hear, hear, hear again:

Pleasure for the gallery

Just two genuinely rhetorical questions. Must there still be sand. And who would have made all those arrangements for strings and keyboards, straight from the tragedies Tarcis et Zélie (1728) and Scanderberg (1735), anyway. Are all those wonderful 'partitions réduits', as if they were tickets for the foyer, only to be thanked to that François (pl.). Fact is that there not only intimate disclosures take place (Tarcis et Zélie), but also the fieriest and most astonishing playing pleasure passes by (Scanderberg). Before diving once again into the sonatas of the Francoeurs. Where next to energetic and neatly timed pleasantries – the Courante by Louis for example – also thoughtful work keeps bubbling up. Cases in point: the aptly intoned and thus consoling Allemande and Sicilienne by François. Great class then, with a de Swarte who as a short entremets incidentally still balances a colourful improvisation on the Elder's sonata in G major. The Chaconne by Louis-Joseph Francoeur (1738-1804), "qu'il à faitte pour donner à son oncle", is by the way not the cherry on the cake of this musical family, but a cheerfully inspired homage. Because tears of joy that remain nonetheless – schwung, timpani stroke – among the most delectable. No one today still believes that the performance of Scanderberg back then was a resounding failure, quite the opposite:

Resigned to passion

It is a reflection with which Les frères Francoeur concludes. "Pour plaire l'art ne peut prêter qu'une faible imposture". A comical subtitle for the heroic ballet Le Prince de Noisy (1749)? Or a subtle hint to everyone who keeps confusing culture with leisure time; or refuses to connect it with "la condition humaine". The finding remains in any case that Les frères Francoeur has been conceived and performed by all involved as one compelling story. That the tracks on the back of the cover have no numbers, only underscores the intention of the makers. Little to nothing was left to chance or doubt, and that also speaks from the sequence of glowing, compelling pleas. Where you can thus repeatedly warm yourself for a moment. Like to the passion, where here too ultimately is resigned to. "La passion est encore ce qui aide le mieux à vivre", it seems Émile Zola (1840-1902) was also convinced of that. Or as the duo Langlois de Swarte–Taylor paraphrases it: "Plus encore, la musique est ce qui aide le mieux à vivre!" Hence this friendly request: more singing from you please, with yet a Pleiades of other notes on it.

There has to be passion A passion for living, surviving And that means detachment

5/5 WHO: Théotime Langlois de Swarte (violin, Jacob Stainer, 1668) & Justin Taylor (anonymous harpsichord, from 17th-century Lyon, "mis au grand clavier par Joseph Colesse" in 1747, restored in 2003 by Laurent Soumagnac) WHAT: Les frères Francoeur, with music by Louis and François Francoeur (ca. 1692-1745 / 1698-1787), Louis-Joseph Francoeur (1738-1804), Jean-Jacques Baptiste Anet (1676-1755), François Rebel (1701-1775) and Jean Durocher (18th century) RELEASE: Alpha Classics, ALPHA 895 (1 cd) PHOTOS: © Julien Benhamou & Robin Davies MERITS MORE THAN A DETOUR: la Cité musicale-Metz, 25 March 2023 ORDER CD: JPC