This is a thoroughly refreshing and original evaluation of Messiaen – both the man and his music – that should appeal to anyone wanting to know more about this endlessly fascinating composer, and also to specialists looking for new perspectives on his music, drawing on a wealth of hitherto unknown material. It is written with a rather different emphasis from its predecessors. As Robert Sholl states in his introduction: ‘Recent biographies of Messiaen have detailed the composer’s life through his diaries, but this book … moves between biographical, musical, theological, philosophical, psychoanalytic and aesthetic thinking, and I have used sketches and archival material that often pose more questions than they answer.’ Another welcome feature is the book’s exploration of how Messiaen (as teacher and composer) was viewed by his contemporaries and pupils. The biographical details are dealt with concisely and clearly, but Sholl offers much more: insights not only into the music but also into Messiaen’s influences, his extramusical motivation, his creative process and, particularly, his theological and philosophical thinking, which has rarely been explored with such lucidity or in such depth.

That aspect of Messiaen’s work was a matter of considerable controversy in the mid-1940s when it provoked ‘Le cas Messiaen’. It’s particularly interesting to read the views of contemporaries who found themselves frustrated – even outraged – by Messiaen’s expansive explanations of his music. One musician who avoided getting drawn into the polemics of ‘Le cas Messiaen’ was the organist Jeanne Demessieux, but Sholl quotes an extract from her diary in 1943 where she reported on a concert of the Poèmes pour Mi and Visions de l’Amen with ‘commentaries on the works almost as lengthy as the works themselves’. Demessieux wondered if these pieces were ‘more philosophy than music’, adding: ‘As I see it, use of an abstract language to preach moral laws or religious dogma is either an outrage or heresy.’ She ended her diary entry with a pithy and damning conclusion: ‘In short: too many notes; I miss Mozart.’ Equally intriguing is the report of Demessieux’s subsequent discussion with Marcel Dupré, who taught both Messiaen and Demessieux: he was of the opinion that Messiaen’s commentaries were misguided, as ‘only priests have the right’ to publish religious texts of their own devising.

Sholl has made some important discoveries in Messiaen’s sketches that help to explain the evolution of his distinctive language. For instance, he describes the genesis of ‘Transports de joie’ from L’Ascension, drawing on the evidence of the composer’s green sketchbook (the ‘Cahier vert’), which he used between 1932 and 1944: ‘Messiaen’s sketches for this work reveal the extraordinary connections his mind could make. In his “Cahier vert” he cites bar 17 of Bach’s Toccata in D minor and a version of bar 4 of “Transports de joie”, described as “in modes 2 and 4 and the new [unspecified] mode”, and reveals, through use of appoggiaturas, part of the formation of his final score. He does not, however, disclose how one fragment of music became another – this creative jump remains mysterious.’ This lends weight to the view that while Messiaen always had a lot (arguably too much) to say about his methods and techniques – even in private notes to himself in this sketchbook – there were always elements of his musical alchemy that remained secret.

Equally engrossing is Sholl’s detailed discussion of the musical and theological origins of the Trois petites liturgies and Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus – and the extensive preparatory work that preceded both, often by a matter of years. Similar revelations are to be found about the Messe de la Pentecôte, one of Messiaen’s most strikingly astringent post-war works, which the composer stated was derived from his organ improvisations at the Trinité. Sholl’s examination of the sketches not only shows that there was plenty of material that never made it into the finished piece, but he has also found descriptive notes for particular improvisations in December 1950 that correspond almost exactly to parts of the completed work. Lest this sounds a little forbidding, I should stress that Sholl wears his scholarship lightly: the prose is always lively, but the depth of his research is clear from the extensive annotations at the end.

This is a book that manages to say a great deal in relatively few words – and the text is supplemented by an excellent choice of photographs, some of which were completely new to me. Anyone wanting a concise introduction to Messiaen’s fascinating life and music will find much to enjoy here – buoyed by Sholl’s own enthusiasm, which is always in evidence – but this is also a book that includes important new research, lending it a lasting significance to specialists, too. I recommend it most warmly. 

This article originally appeared in the September 2024 issue of Gramophone. Whether you want to enjoy Gramophone online, explore our unique Reviews Database or our huge archive of issues stretching back to April 1923, or simply receive the magazine through your door every month, we've got the perfect subscription for you. Find out more at magsubscriptions.com