Scaramouche Op.165c

Vif

Modéré

Brazileira

Scaramouche takes its name from the theatre company which commissioned Milhaud to write incidental music for a children’s version of Molière’s Le médecin volant in 1937. Always eager to get on with the next work, he might well have forgotten his Médecin volant music if he had not found himself short of ideas for a promised two-piano piece. For the first and third movements he drew on the Médecin volant score and for the second he turned to another item of theatre music, a short overture for Jules Supervielle’s play Bolivar. He was not very proud of the result and argued against its publication. His publisher insisted, however, and Scaramouche proved such a success in the two-piano version (Op.165b) that he was prevailed upon to makes arrangements for both saxophone (Op.165c) in 1939 and clarinet (Op.165d) in 1941.

Although the incidental music for Le médecin volant had a prominent part for saxophone, Scaramouche is just as effective with a solo clarinet. The clarinet and the tunes that arise in such abundance in the irrepressibly cheerful Vif first movement seem to be made for each other – so much so that, as though reluctant to relinquish any one of them to the piano, the soloist scarcely stops to draw breath. As it happens the Bolivar material used in the second movement suits the clarinet too – not only in the bluesy outer sections but also in the melodically charming midle section. As for the Brazileira, while it is difficult to imagine what the samba had to do with Molière’s Médecin volant, Milhaud’s familiarity with the idiom and his unfailing rhythmic ingenuity ensure its irresistibility in any kind of instrumental colouring.

Vif

Modéré

Brazileira

Scaramouche takes its name from the theatre company which commissioned Milhaud to write incidental music for a children’s version of Molière’s Le médecin volant in 1937. A prolific composer always eager to get on with the next work, he might well have forgotten his Médecin volant music if he had not found himself short of ideas for a piece he had promised to the duo-pianists Ida Jankelevitch and Marcelle Meyer. For the first and third movements he drew on the Médecin volant score and for the second he turned to another item of theatre music, a short overture for Jules Supervielle’s play Bolivar. He was not very proud of the result and argued against its publication. His publisher insisted, however, and Scaramouche proved such a success in the two-piano version (Op.165b) that he was prevailed upon to makes arrangements for both saxophone (Op.165c) in 1939 and clarinet (Op.165d) in 1941.

Although the incidental music for Le médecin volant, which supplied two thirds of the material, was written for saxophone and a cabaret ensemble, Scaramouche is just as effective with a solo clarinet. The clarinet and the tunes that arise in such abundance in the irrepressibly cheerful Vif first movement seem to be made for each other – so much so that, as though reluctant to relinquish any one of them to the piano, the soloist scarcely stops to draw breath. As it happens the Bolivar material used in the second movement suits the clarinet too – not only in the bluesy outer sections, although it has particularly close associations with that kind of music, but also in the melodically charming midle section. As for the Brazileira, while it is difficult to imagine what the samba had to do with Molière’s Médecin volant, Milhaud’s familiarity with the idiom and his unfailing rhythmic ingenuity ensure its irresistibility in any kind of instrumental colouring.

Vif

Modéré

Brazileira

Scaramouche takes its name from the theatre company – itself named after a commedia dell’arte character popular in 17th-cenutry Paris – which commissioned Milhaud to write incidental music for a children’s version of Molière’s Le médecin volant in 1937. A prolific composer always eager to get on with the next work, he might well have forgotten his Médecin volant music if he had not found himself short of ideas for a piece he had promised to the duo-pianists Ida Jankelevitch and Marcelle Meyer. For the first and third movements he drew on the Médecin volant score and for the second movement he turned to another item of theatre music, a short overture for Jules Supervielle’s play Bolivar. He was not very proud of the result and argued against its publication. His publisher insisted, however, and Scaramouche proved such a success in the two-piano version (Op.165b) that he was prevailed upon to arrange it for saxophone and orchestra (Op.165c) in 1939 and for clarinet and orchestra (Op.165d) in 1941.

Since the incidental music for Le médecin volant, which supplied two thirds of the material, was written for saxophone and a cabaret ensemble, Scaramouche is probably most effective of all in the present version for the same instrument and orchestra. The saxophone and the tunes that arise in such abundance in the irrepressibly cheerful Vif first movement seem to be made for each other – so much so that, as though reluctant to relinquish any one of them to the orchestra, the soloist scarcely stops to draw breath. As it happens the Bolivar material used in the second movement suits the saxophone too – not only in the bluesy outer sections, although it has particularly close associations with that kind of music, but also in the melodically charming midle section. As for the Brazileira, while it is difficult to imagine what the samba had to do with Molière’s Médecin volant, Milhaud’s familiarity with the idiom and his unfailing rhythmic ingenuity ensure its irresistibility in any kind of instrumental colouring.