Du Cabinet de Curiosités, op. 44

Cl., Vc., Pf.

The idea for this piece was inspired by my friend Eric Godichaud who sent me a small book that he had written entitled Le Cabinet de Curiosités. In Eric’s book, the "curiosités" are, of course, literary texts, whereas mine are musical.

Cabinets of curiosités, also known as "wonder-rooms", were encyclopedic collections of objects from the fields of natural history, geology, ethnography, archaeology, religious or historical relics, works of art, science and antiquities.

My piece begins with a brief Intrada portraying the visitor to the cabinet making his or her way along a dark tunnel and pushing open a creaky oak door. At once, mystery and darkness give way to wonder and light as we enter the cabinet and the music moves into the Ritornello, a shortened version of which separates each of the objects viewed in the cabinet, as we imagine the enthralled visitor passing from exhibit to exhibit.

The first of these, La taupe en cavale (Mole on the run) features much scampering for the cello and clarinet before the mole finally runs to earth. Next comes Bonbons poivrés (Peppery sweets), the pepper being provided by an out-of-key piano accompaniment to a simple waltz-like tune. A surprisingly frightening central section leads to a return of the waltz theme, with much of the pepper now dissipated. This is followed by Les oiseaux mécaniques (Mechanical birds), a piece derived from actual recordings I made of birdsong, very roughly interpreted by the clarinet, while the other two instruments provide rustlings and clockwork tinkerings. La poupée en larmes (Dolly in tears) begins with a lamenting melody on the cello repeated on the clarinet. The doll appears to become very disturbed in the central part of this section, while cello and clarinet hint at something more consolatory. This eventually appears in the form of a calm melody on the clarinet, while the tears, much more gentle now, continue in the piano. La boîte à musique capricieuse (The temperamental music box), once wound up, plays a tinkly melody, but soon runs down and has to be wound up again. It then gets stuck, and has to be hit to set it going again, but this time it speeds up. Hitting it again only causes it to starting missing out notes, and finally to fall apart. The final curiosity is L’emboutisseuse déchaînée (The stamping machine out of control). Once it has got going, the machine’s raging and stamping frame a frankly banal central tune, leading finally to a tumultuous ending in which the machine appears to have smashed itself to pieces.

© Copyright Steve Elcock 2025