Concerto for Organ, Strings and Timpani in G minor, FP 93

Program notes

About the Work

The critic Claude Rostand famously described Francis Poulenc as half monk, half rascal: a composer who could write music of deep religious feeling and impish, café-society wit, often within the same piece. His Organ Concerto, composed between 1934 and 1938, is the perfect embodiment of that double nature. It was commissioned by the great Parisian patron Princess Edmond de Polignac, originally as a modest piece with an easy organ part that the Princess could probably play herself; Poulenc, however, soon abandoned the modest idea for something far grander and more dramatic. Scored for the unusual combination of solo organ, string orchestra and timpani (no other winds or brass), it is cast as a single continuous movement that runs through several sharply contrasting sections.

Poulenc composed it not long after a profound reawakening of his Catholic faith, and the concerto is shadowed by that seriousness. It opens with thunderous organ chords that deliberately echo the grandeur of Bach’s organ fantasias, plunging us into a world of almost Gothic solemnity, and then, characteristically, it veers off into music that is by turns lyrical, playful, jazzy and tender, before the darkness returns. The private premiere took place in the Princess’s salon on 16 December 1938, with Maurice Duruflé at the organ and Nadia Boulanger conducting; the first public performance followed at the Salle Gaveau in Paris in June 1939. It is one of the great works for organ and orchestra, and a thrilling vehicle for a virtuoso soloist.

What to Listen For

Listen to the opening: a series of huge, dramatic organ chords, grave and grand, consciously recalling Bach’s great G-minor organ fantasia, an arresting, almost theatrical start that sets a tone of dark solemnity. Then follow how Poulenc keeps changing the mood, often abruptly: the music swings between this Gothic grandeur and lighter, more lyrical or even jaunty episodes, the ‘monk’ and the ‘rascal’ alternating without warning.

Keep your ear on the interplay of the three forces: the organ by turns commanding and delicate, the strings warm and singing, and the timpani adding dramatic punctuation and drive. There are passages of real tenderness and others of nervous energy and bustle, even a touch of the dance hall. The single-movement structure means there is no break to relax in: the music carries you continuously through its contrasts to the return of the solemn opening material and a powerful close. It is a piece that shows off both the colossal range of the organ and the many faces of Poulenc.