Francine Kay: Things Lived and Dreamt
Analekta Records
Having earlier issued releases featuring material by Ravel, Satie, and Debussy, pianist Francine Kay now shifts her focus to Czech composers on Things Lived and Dreamt, the seventy-four-minute collection a smartly curated set featuring familiar favourites and lesser-known pieces. Appearing alongside pieces by Dvorák, Smetana, and Janácek is the seldom-heard 1937 work, Dubnová Preludia (April Preludes) by Vítezslava Kaprálová. As integral as her piece is to the project, it's Josef Suk's ten-part Životem a snem (Things Lived and Dreamt) (1909) that is the major selling-point. The composers' material certainly lends itself well to the luxuriant sound for which the JUNO-nominated Kay has become known.
A fascinating backstory accompanies Janácek's Sonata I.X.1905, which he wrote after witnessing the killing of an unarmed Czech demonstrator by a German soldier. What resulted was a three-movement composition titled From the Street, but Janácek destroyed the third part before the Prague premiere and later disposed of the other movements too. However, the pianist who performed the premiere revealed that she'd made a copy of the first two movements, which prompted the composer to agree to publish it as a two-movement sonata. Buoyed by moments of dreamlike reverie, “Predtucha” (The Presentiment) at other moments swells with dramatic portent. While Kay's technical mastery is evident in her essaying of Janácek's material, her attunement to its emotional character impresses as much. The tone of “Smrt” (The Death), which honours the dead citizen with a dignified memorial, is sombre but not defeated.
Suk makes an initial showing with “Vroztoužení” (Longing), the fifth and final number from his Jaro (Spring) (1902); inspired by the birth of his son, the setting radiates joy, understandably, in its lulling flow and hushed romanticism. Complementary in tone are three charming miniatures from Dvorák's Humoresques (1894). Whereas the soulful fourth in the series gravitates in an almost jazz-tinged direction and the melodically enticing seventh endears for its childlike innocence, the B-Flat Minor eighth plunges into slightly darker waters.
Positioned at the album's centre is Suk's epic title work, a kaleidoscopic cycle that might be likened to an artist's diary when its ten explorative pieces range so widely in style and mood. Written four years after his wife Otilie's death in 1905, Životem a snem follows a carefree and sometimes wry first movement with others that are by turns ponderous, contemplative, playful, impressionistic, declamatory, and mysterious. The diary-like quality of the work asserts itself in the freedom with which Suk allows the material to develop, as if he purposefully decided to cede control to the music and let it dictate the paths it would follow. It's best broached as a complete statement, yet certain parts do make particularly strong impressions, the tender fifth (“For my son's recuperation”) and brooding tenth (“Dedicated to forgotten graves in the Krecovice cemetery”) cases in point.
The life of Kaprálová (1915–40) was cut tragically short when she died of an acute illness in Montpellier while fleeing the Nazi occupation. What the student of Bohuslav Martinu might have accomplished had she lived past twenty-five can only be guessed at, but the four-part Dubnová Preludia leaves little doubt as to her talent. The opening allegro shows harmonic daring and a bold incorporation of dissonance, the delicate third reveals a gentler side, and the rousing fourth arrests with exuberance. The album ends on a radiant note with the rousing “Polka No. 2 in A Minor,” the second polka from Smetana's 1877 cycle of Czech Dances. On this illuminating survey, Kay effectively captures the immense stylistic scope encompassed by the five Czech composers, even if Smetana's is little more than a tiny though nonetheless tasty teaser of his music.March 2023