Created in 1928, the Singer-Polignac Foundation takes its name from Winnaretta Singer, Princesse Edmond de Polignac, the philanthropist and heir to the Singer sewing machine fortune. Composers including Stravinsky, Fauré, Debussy, Tailleferre and de Falla were all supported by the Princess’s generous patronage, regularly premiering chamber works at her family’s busy Paris salon. Nadia Boulanger organised the first Festival Singer-Polignac concerts in the Polignacs' music room, succeeded by Jean Françaix after her death; the Festival’s championing of new, exploratory chamber music continues to this day.
A glance over the Festival programme sees giants of the repertoire meet head on. Ligeti’s Wind Quintet and the Poulenc Sextet, Beethoven’s String Quartet no.11 and George Crumb’s Black Angels, all colliding (sometimes on the same evening). It’s a feast for the ears, and a remarkably committed bit of programming.
Where other gigs balance the old, new and reimagined, the Trio Xenakis concert took a more stridently modern aim. The ensemble (Adélaïde Ferrière, Emmanuel Jacquet and Rodolphe Théry) are a contemporary percussion trio named after one of the first composers to properly explore the possibilities of these forces. They have been Festival residents since 2018, and this programme saw them take in some classics of the repertoire alongside some hidden gems.
Spotlights, smoke machines and huge, bulbous chandeliers set in the gothic surrounds of the Polignac mansion made it feel more like a Prince gig rather than a contemporary music concert. But in a livestream without a live audience and equipped with the incentive to make a spectacle, the presentation certainly betters some of the more sterile offerings from the past year. Proceedings had a genuine excitement to them, a difficult thing to achieve without the buzz of an audience in the room.
Few pieces in the repertoire require three percussionists all together, so you regularly see Trio Xenakis split up. This was the case for the concert opener – Pieces for four timpani by Elliott Carter. It’s not Carter at his strongest, but Rodolphe Théry coaxed as much theatricality out of it as he could, nimbly tossing beaters mid-flow as required to realise Carter’s nuanced (if at times imperceptible) changes in timbre.