Frederic Curzon: In Malaga -Suite for Orchestra

In these cold, dark January days, the mind turns to warmer climes. I have always loved Malaga in the south of Spain, with its imposing Moorish castle (La Alcazaba), the splendid cathedral, the fine beaches and the delicious eating and drinking venues. And that says nothing about the excellent shops, Picasso’s birth-place and the newly redeveloped harbour area.  

Frederic Curzon (1899-1973) was fascinated by Spain –apart from this present piece he also wrote a Spanish Caprice: ‘Capricante’, a Serenade: ‘La Peineta’ and Bravada: A Paso Doble.  However, it is curious that he never actually visited the country.

The first movement of In Malaga is entitled ‘Spanish Ladies’. This music is quite definitely a tango. However the strong rhythms are offset by a slightly more relaxed feel that may suggest the ‘siesta’ rather than the time of day when ‘mad dogs and Englishmen’ venture out into the ‘mid-day sun.’ I was impressed by the light, subtle scoring of this music. Much use is made of pizzicato and delicate woodwind patterns. However, the movement ends with a bit of  bang.

The second movement of the suite is called ‘Serenade for Eulalie’. ‘Eulalie’ was a poem by Edgar Allan Poe which was first published in 1845 in the American Review: A Whig Journal and tells of a man who overcomes his grief by marrying the striking Eulalie. For enthusiasts of P.G. Wodehouse, the name ‘Eulalie’ will conjure images of Sir Roderick Spode’s one-time business venture as "founder and proprietor of the emporium in Bond Street known as “Eulalie Soeurs", a famed designer of ladies' lingerie. However, I do not think that Curzon had either of these two ‘exemplars’ in mind when he composed this Serenade.  The composer’s step-son has suggested that although the identity of this lady is a secret, he wonders if it was inspired by the ‘delightful personality of his [Fredercik’s] wife-to-be’.  This is a lovely elusive little tune. Opening with a gentle viola solo which then passes to the flute and clarinet for the first theme. The composer then introduces a romantic tune on strings which tends to dominate the proceedings.  The mood if this music is nocturnal, with nods to the Tango.

The final movement is a vigorous Cachucha. Many readers of this blog will know the near perfect example of this dance by Sir Arthur Sullivan in The Gondoliers. However, the original dance was from Andalusia in the south of Spain. It is usually in 3/4 or 3/8 time (Sullivan’s is in the latter) and was danced with castanet accompaniment. Conversely, there is some suggestion that the dance was originally from Cuba. Curzon’s take is impressive with a strong melodic drive, some syncopation and a lot of orchestral colour.

The Suite was dedicated to the former organist at the Shepherd’s Bush Pavilion, Quentin Maclean. As an aside, Maclean’s two Organ Concertos would seem to be worthy objects for investigation. In Malaga was published Hawkes and Son in 1935, although there appears to be no consensus as to when it was actually composed.  Two years later, a piano reduction was issued by the same publisher.

Finally the liner notes of the Marco Polo CD relates a good anecdote about Frederick Curzon and his Spanish Connection. “Donald Curzon recalls that his stepfather's skill at evoking the appropriate national atmosphere elicited a letter from Spain asking if the composer was of Spanish birth or had, at the very least, lived and worked in the country. The enquirer apparently was quite convinced that only a native Spaniard or someone with considerable direct experience of Spain could possibly write such 'authentic' sounding music!”

The entire In Malaga Suite can be heard on YouTube.

Frederic Curzon: Cascade Waltz

I have always enjoyed the music of Frederic Curzon since being introduced to his ‘Dance of an Ostracised Imp’. I guess that I always felt sorry for the poor chap and wondered what he had done to be sent to Coventry and have the misdemeanour set down in musical notation for all time. In later years I have come to regard Curzon's Characteristic Intermezzo: The Boulevardier as being his defining miniature. However I was listening to the Marco Polo CD (8.223425) the other day and ‘discovered’ the fine English waltz – Cascade. It is a shortish piece that lasts under five minutes, but is full of attractive music and ‘no-nonsense’ scoring.

An English Waltz tends to be slower than their continental counterparts, although the liner notes of this CD are at pains to point out that Eric Coates’ waltzes tended to be faster than one by typical of the indigenous variety. The main difference being that Coates’ waltzes were not meant for dancing, whereas Cascade would make a fine accompaniment to ‘a grand, glitzy social ball’.

My piano stool contains the sheet music of a number of ‘valses’ by a composer called Charles Ancliffe – the best known being Nights of Gladness and Smiles, then Kisses. These are perhaps the exemplars of Cascade which was composed in 1946. There is no doubt that this piece is ‘retro’ and would have been seen as a little tame in the post war years. Yet it is a classic example of the genre that combines a memorable tune with some excellent orchestration that does not rely on ‘effect’. After a brief introduction the somewhat stately ‘waltz’ theme is heard for the first time- certainly the characteristic feature is the heavy emphasis on the first beat of the bar. The ‘trio section’ is a lovely romantic tune on the strings that evokes an early and seemingly gentler age. This leads into the more exuberant opening tune.
I am not too sure where the imagery of ‘Cascade’ fits into the music, but it is surely a highly successful piece of ‘lyrical’ music.

Frederic Curzon: The Boulevardier

The Oxford English Dictionary rather prosaically defines a ‘boulevardier as ‘someone who frequents boulevards.’ However the word can be expanded considerably to include the ‘man-about-town’ who enjoys fashionable living. Furthermore it could be added that he will frequent public places such as squares, cafes and fashionable streets. In fact he could well be regarded as a ‘bon vivant.’ Although Frederic Curzon in his delicious musical portrayal of this man quite definitely has Paris as the locale of his sketch, it is not too hard to mentally transfer this piece to London. In fact, when I hear this swaggering piece I tend to imagine someone from the pages of P.G. Wodehouse. This is not necessarily Bertie Wooster himself, but may be anyone from the Drones Club, such as Pongo Twisleton, Cyril ‘Barmy’ Fortheringay-Phipps, Tuppy Glossop or Oofie Prosser.
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Ernest Frederic Curzon (1899-1973) was one of the junior members of the pre-war British Light Music scene being considerably younger than Haydn Wood, Eric Coates or Arthur Wood. His music tends to be more melodically and harmonically conservative than later composers such as Sidney Torch and Robert Farnon. He tended to eschew jazz and the more ‘popular’ idioms. However, he did write a number of ‘humoresques’ for Tommy Handley’s ITMA and he contributed to the stock of mood music that was so much in demand by radio and newsreel producers.
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Curzon wrote this ‘Characteristic intermezzo in 1939 and it duly appeared in 1941 at a time when London was subject to bombing raids and Paris was in the hands of the Nazis. It therefore looks back in time to an earlier age.

The work is based upon the ‘steady tread’ of a confident young man strolling through the Parisian streets, probably with cane in hand. Although the music does become a little more agitated and flamboyant in the ‘middle eight’ the coolness of the individual never really disappears. It is difficult to know what is going on in his head. Is he thinking about paying a call to a certain Mademoiselle? Or perhaps he is heading towards his club? Or maybe he is just taking in the evening air. What is never in doubt is the ‘boulevardier’s’ confidence, nor that of the composer's portrayal of him.
Like much of Curzon’s music The Boulevardier is a melodic, attractively scored piece of light music that retains its ability to captivate the listener. It certainly achieves its effect of portraying a certain kind of individual long since disappeared from the streets of Paris or London. Yet who knows? Did I not see a gentleman walking down Piccadilly the other day with his cane and spats – or was it a trick of the light...?

Frederic Curzon's TheBoulevardier can be heard on Marco Polo 8.2234425. A short sound sample is available on this website.