French Music on the Night Air

I enjoyed a nice Saturday evening of French music a week or so ago. Early on that cloudy evening a friend drove Jim and me to the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception over on Capitol Hill for an Ascension eve organ concert, one dedicated to Frank Graboski’s memory. Frank, a life-long organist, died on Palm Sunday, just a few weeks ago. He had known the concert was coming up and had spoken with the organist who was planning it, Alan Dominicci. Upon hearing of Mr Graboski’s death, Mr. Dominicci altered the concert to memorialize Frank as well as celebrate the Feast of the Ascension of Christ. To do so, he selected a number of compositions from 19th and 20th century French composers, some of Frank’s favorites. 

All but one selection was written by a French musician, the exception a J. S. Bach Prelude that opened the evening. Next was a four-movement piece “L’Ascension” written by Olivier Messiaen. I hadn’t heard that piece for many years and kept worrying that it might be so dissonant as to be off-putting to my partner who chooses pop, rock, and light jazz over classical music. I hoped the long tonal decay of the Bascillica (over 4 seconds) would make the music work and I was not disappointed. Dominicci’s registration and musicianship provided a wonderful musical experience that was made even better right at the end of the final movement the composer titled “Prayer of Christ Ascending toward His Father.” I was caught up in the music’s constant upward movement as if I were one of Jesus’ disciples watching him be lifted by the clouds into heaven, and just as the movement was drawing to a close, the clouds obscuring the sun moved letting the late evening sunlight fill the transepts and choir with light—at least that is my description of what happened. My friends didn’t notice. Was I having a vision? It doesn’t matter. The space around the altar glowed as light poured through the west windows and reflected off the gold-trimmed white walls, ceiling, and floor. 

Following an intermission we heard music by Cesar Franck, Charles-Marie Widor, Gabriel Pierne, and Louis Vierne. This last, Vierne’s “Finale” from Symphonie V was one of Frank Graboski’s great favorites, a piece he had played in concert many times. It ends with great feeling and volume, a feeling of triumph, and seemed so fitting as a memorial to Frank. 

From the Cathedral we drove to The Black Crown, a favorite bar and restaurant near our home. There we ordered drinks and settled in. A trio was setting up to entertain. They got underway with an instrumental composition I didn’t know. Then the singer/percussionist sang a French standard jazz tune, followed by two more, and then a Brazilian samba sung in Portuguese. (I always recall my brother-in-law’s description of Portuguese from when he lived in Brazil. He said it was kind of like speaking Spanish with a French pronunciation through pursed lips.) I loved the pianist's playing, the stand up bass player’s creativity, and the singer’s interpretations. All three provided distinctive improvisations. I also loved the French-inspired place as the location for a fitting nightcap.

Finally we went home; I with French music swirling around in my head and warm feelings related to friends, family, and Frank Graboski. 

Denver, 2014