TANGUY: Cello Concerto No. 2 (2000). Cello Concerto No. 1 (1994-95).
Anne Gastinel (cello), Orchestre National de France/Alain Altinoglu.
Naïve V 5078 (F) (DDD) TT: 57:41
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Éric Tanguy (born 1968) bears the marks of the influence of the French and German postwar avant-garde as well as of the Modernist Henri Dutilleux. He has received many prestigious awards and residencies and has enjoyed the championship of first-class musicians, chief among them Rostropovich.

Tanguy's music reminds me strongly of Dutilleux, particularly in its emphasis on so-called "pivot notes," -- i.e., notes that pivot among different tonalities (eg, G as a doorway to C, G, or E-flat) or between different melodic ideas. He writes very tightly, and while tonality isn't strongly defined, he has the gift of putting drive and forward impetus into his scores.

The First Cello Concerto, in the three usual sections, begins with a movement that, despite large tuttis, establishes the dominance of the soloist, through declamatory recitative. There's none of the traditional conflict between soloist and orchestra. Instead, all the drama derives from the solo part, with the orchestra in empathic support. The slow second movement establishes the cello's singing tone without dipping into conventional song. The soloist worries a group of riff-like ideas. Again, the orchestra stays in the background. The third movement -- the most interesting and with the clearest dramatic structure -- opens with orchestral fanfares and the strongest rhythmic pulse in the piece. It has the "feel," if not the structure, of a rondo. After a sustained burst of energy, the movement travels to a "centre of indifference," from which the cello returns to eloquent singing. The cello and orchestra rouse themselves to another burst of energy which alternates with the singing, and the concerto ends on a note of vigor.

The First Concerto -- although filled with strange, cutting-edge sounds -- nevertheless tends to follow older narrative strategies. The Second Cello Concerto, in four movements, follows convention less closely, at least as far as its architectural and narrative features are concerned. On the other hand, it flaunts its newness less. It's as if Tanguy trusts himself more. I think it a marked advance on its solid older brother in terms of sheer poetry. Harmonies, while hardly the usual thing, become even more modal. Instead of opening with something grand, the first movement begins with a beautiful, eloquent song from the cello -- the kind of music one tends to associate with a slow movement. Again, the orchestra relates to the cello less through conflict and more through support and commentary. The cello has the starring role throughout. Harmonies are less dissonant, more modal. In the second movement, the emotional temperature rises to declamation, without any quickening of the pulse. The music comes at you in bursts and fragments and yet manages to sound coherent. Tanguy saves most of the excitement for the end, where the music ends in salvos. The next movement, marked Mysterieux, is another slow movement -- my favorite in the concerto -- very much like a cross between the first movement and the recitative sections of Bloch's Schelomo. Again, while it proceeds unpredictably, it never degenerates into incoherence. So far, we have had, in effect, three slow movements, although projecting different moods. The finale, the most "normal" of the four and again with the feel of a rondo, finally picks up the tempo, driving the music from beginning to end. A lyrical idea emerges, without any lessening of drive, and this alternates with the main vif idea, with the latter winning out.

Anne Gastinel gets through the terrors of both concerti without batting an eye. She seems to have a true, though small tone, but fortunately Tanguy keeps the orchestra out of the soloist's way. The orchestra plays with precision, although a little coolly. Gastinel, however, amazes me with her understanding of two somewhat tricky works. She never loses her way or ours. I could have stood a bigger tone in the second concerto (Tanguy wrote it for Rostropovich), but I doubt the dedicatee could have played it any more musically than Gastinel.

S.G.S. (May 2008)