Jean Catoire’s Opus 303ter

As I work my way through the eight volumes in Nicolas Horvath’s project to record the complete piano works of French composer Jean Catoire, I have been aware of the diversity of durations that I have encountered over the first three volumes. The breadth of those durations range between one minute and 45 seconds (Opus 145) and slightly more than 90 minutes (Opus 157), both of which were included in Volume 1. Volume 4, on the other hand, is the first of three volumes to consist only of a single composition. All three of those volumes are longer than three hours, and the last of them, the final volume, exceeds four hours. Since I have been documenting Horvath’s recordings on a volume-by-volume basis, this morning was devoted to the single composition of Volume 4, Opus 303^ter, which is described as a piano reduction of Catoire’s 44th symphony.

By way of context, I would like to begin with an amusing (at least in my opinion) anecdote about duration. Unless I am mistaken, it is the only anecdote I have about Arthur Rubinstein. The story goes that one of his favorite encores was “O polichinelo” (Punch), the penultimate movement in the first of the three books that Heitor Villa-Lobos composed under the title A prole do bebê (the baby’s family), the volume entitled As Bonecas (the dolls). Rubinstein apparently told Villa-Lobos that this encore was so popular that he wished it were longer. Villa-Lobos replied, “Let me take a look at the score.” Rubinstein handed it over, and Villa-Lobos returned it to him after having penciled in several repeat signs!

Catoire’s Opus Opus 303^ter provided me with the first situation in which I wish I had been able to examine the score. My guess is that no repeat signs were deployed in the composing of this piece. There are definitely ways in which phrases are similar to each other. However, if there are repeated passages that arise over the course of this composition’s duration of roughly three and one-half hours, I would hypothesize that they are temporally distant from each other. As a result, the overall plan of the composition seems to involve an evolving process of subtle differences.

I suspect that there are some that would approach this music as an exercise in meditation. I would not be one of them! Rather, I believe that the essence of this particular composition involves making the listener aware of differences, however subtle those differences may be. Nevertheless, over the course of more than three hours, the number of perceivable differences has at least the potential to overwhelm even the most eager listener.

The fact is that, given the paucity of background information, it is highly challenging even to speculate what Catoire had in mind in creating his 44th symphony, not to mention “re-creating” it as a solo piano composition. One possibility is that this music was intended for “background,” rather than “foreground.” In other words, rather than a “concert experience,” the listener is provided with an “environment” in which (s)he/they can go about with “business as usual,” conducting it with what might be called “secondary awareness” of the music.

Another possibility is that the composer had a prankish streak. This would be in the spirit of the individual in the audience attending the first performance in New York, in 1963, of Erik Satie’s “Vexations.” This was a keyboard composition that fit one half of a manuscript page. However, the composer had instructed that this brief passage be played “840 times in succession.” The New York performance lasted over eighteen hours; and, when it was over, some prankster in the audience responded by shouting “Encore!” (I was not there, but I am willing to trust the accuracy of The New York Times.)

Personally, I have had enough experience with sitting through an uninterrupted three and one-half hours that I would not dismiss Catoire’s composition as a prank. On the other hand the seating in many public audience spaces tends not to be particularly accommodating. With a recording at my disposal, I can find myself a comfortable chair (or, for that matter, stretch out on a couch). If I do not have to deal with physical discomforts, my mind is likely to give greater attention to the signals coming in through my ears!

This brings another joke to mind. Towards the end of his life, Richard Wagner was visited by one of his grandsons. The young man said, “Grandpa, I’m going to Bayreuth.” Wagner asked what opera he would be seeing, and the youth told him it would be Parsifal. Wagner sent him on his way with only one sentence of advice: “Go to the bathroom first!” In other words, see to the comforts of the body before the mind has to deal with the challenges of the music!