Stephen Coombs, in
his introductory notes to this new album,
expresses his surprised delight at the
current "resurgence of interest
in the music of Reynaldo Hahn. Until
relatively recently his posthumous fame
relied on a single short song, Si
mes vers avaient des ailes,
written when the composer was only thirteen.
Amazingly, a glance at the current recording
catalogues reveals an ever-growing list
of works – concertos, symphonic works,
songs, piano pieces and chamber music
– by this urbane and charming composer."
And urbane and charming
is an apt description of the opening
movement (marked Sans lenteur, tendrement)
of Hahn’s Violin Sonata. Inspired by
Fauré, it is sunny and lyrical
and sweetly sentimental with just a
little discreet passion and yearning.
Like so much of the composer’s music,
it seems to conjure a forgotten, by-gone
age of horse-drawn carriages (even though
it was written in 1926); or cosy visions
of agreeable afternoon salon music or
domestic entertainments. The short central
movement, marked Véloce
is a sparkling little scherzo that canters
along with a harp-like central section
while the concluding Modéré
movement marked, très à
l’aise, au gré de l’interprète
begins plaintively and proceeds slowly,
gently in melancholic musing and reminiscences.
In the middle of this movement gentle
sorrow is roughly pushed aside by heavy
strident piano chords before the music
slowly calms again and the charming
memorable melody of the work’s opening
is recalled. Coombs and Sewart capture
the essential charm and sentimental
yearning and nostalgia of this enchanting
sonata most exquisitely.
Of the shorter pieces
in the programme, the Soliloque et
Forlane has a serene yet increasingly
longing Andante before the arrival
of the sprightly, jaunty Allegro
scherzando section. Hahn’s beautiful
forlorn Nocturne, with its restrained
passion, has another haunting melody
(shades of Elgar). The Romance,
marked Très modéré,
flows easily and has something of a
folksong about it and yet it might also
be thought to speak of domestic bliss,
an endearing, pretty little tune. Si
mes vers avaient des ailes (‘if
my verses had wings’) is of course Hahn’s
transcription, for cello and piano,
of his famous original song and how
lovely it is; amazing that this gorgeous
tune was composed by a boy of thirteen.
The notes include the text of Victor
Hugo’s poem that Hahn set to such sublime
music.
The other major work
in the programme is the Piano Quartet
No. 3 in G major and straightaway we
are introduced to yet another of Hahn’s
beguiling melodies that speaks of relaxed
intimacy. But this belies a much deeper
work, exploring more than salon superficiality
for the middle of this movement delves
into troubled deep waters with altercations
between the strings and harsh piano
comments. The brief second movement,
the waltz-like Allegro assai, is a much
edgier creation than we are used to
hearing from Hahn. The opening murmurs
and tenors of the Andante are of a shadier
hue, too, as though Hahn is recollecting
some deeply felt loss. (This late work,
from 1946 quite probably commented on
private and public tragedies of that
decade). Room-Music sensitively capture
the refined, elegiac quality of this,
the emotional heart of the Quartet.
The work ends with Hahn’s more familiar
easy-going, warm-hearted, nostalgia
in the Allegro assai finale.
The Reynaldo Hahn rediscovery
moves on apace. Enchanting, nostalgic
music. Warm-hearted performances by
Room-Music with great sensitivity and
lack of condescension
Ian Lace
Room-Music: Stephen Coombs (piano); Charles Sewart
(violin); Yuko Inoue (viola); Philip De Groote
(cello) 
