“Hard worker.”
“Very much. But then Franck met the love his life. One of his students.”
“How young?” I asked.
“He was twenty-five and she was twenty-two. Her name was Eugène.”
“Oh okay.”
“So, his father forbids Franck to court Eugène. While his father recognizes that she’s a violinist, he doesn’t believe she’s worthy of his son.”
“I’m not liking his father. He should stay out of it.”
“Franck agreed. He defied his father and proposed to Eugène.”
“Good.”
“So, Franck gave this sonata to Eugène on the morning of their wedding. And that evening, he performed it to their wedding guests.”
I swooned. “That’s serious romantic swag.”
“I agree.”
“He fell in love, wrote a song about it, and the world fell in love with the song.”
I listened to Franck’s sonata with new ears.
Like most, this followed three acts. The violin danced with the orchestra, more guiding than playing with them. And the violin took us on a journey of long strokes to lure and then short strokes to entice. Highs and lows. Valleys and peaks.
I imagined Franck, playing for his guests with fire in his eyes, knowing that he’d forsaken his family for love, and still stood above them all with a song in his heart.
Lovely notes rose in the air, singing to me.
And then I noticed something that I hadn’t before. I’d been enjoying the style and rhythm of the musician, but I hadn’t realized the familiarity. All violinists had a signature flow. A certain way they played the E string. A specific way they executed allegro. If one listened closely, they could pick their favorite musician out of many songs.
I widened my eyes and filled with excitement. “This is you playing. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I think it’s embarrassing to have one’s own music on their playlist.”
It’s not embarrassing, if you can’t play that music again.
I shook my head. “I think it’s perfectly fine.”
This was a side of Jean-Pierre, that I’d never seen before. In his home, his bedroom, away from everyone else and naked. He was open and raw. If I hadn’t realized it before, I understood tonight. Jean-Pierre would show me him. The good. The bad. The hurt. The love. The things that confused him. And the things that he was confident in.
These next weeks I would learn the true Jean-Pierre.
He disrupted my thoughts. “What’s your favorite Sonata?”
I wanted to talk more about his beautiful playing, but I stepped into his switching of the topic. “I like most sonatas by Mozart.”
“Aww. You’re one of those?” Jean-Pierre joked.
“Stop it. There would be no sonatas, if not for Mozart.”
For the first time ever witnessed in my presence, Jean-Pierre rolled his eyes. “Mozart didn’t create the Sonata.”
“I love when you’re being a classical snob.”
“I’m not. It’s just, that there are songs, so captivating, they create long-lasting memories before they reach their last note. And Mozart’s sonatas are not on that list for me.”
“Wow. Mozart was the one that popularized the sonata.”
He huffed.
“Okay.” I chuckled. “Sure, Beethoven, Schubert, and even Franck helped the Sonata’s rise, but all due to Mozart. You have to give him that.”
“Hmmm.”
“Mozart’s sonatas were windows into his soul. He composed so many types. That was where bits of his heart and passion lived.”
“Damn you.” He sighed. “Now you may have me relistening to some of them.”
“You should.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow.”
“That’s a date.” I smiled. “What’s your favorite sonata?”
“Strauss.”
“Really?”
It was an interesting piece for Jean-Pierre to like. Strauss’s Sonata wasn’t considered a landmark work, or highly innovative in violin literature, but people always performed and recorded the piece.
Strauss’s sonata followed the standard classical form and took thirty minutes to perform. The piece had three movements. The first opened with a brief piano solo, followed by lyrical violin interludes. Very romantic and sentimental. A melancholy tone, but still jubilant in some measures.
The second movement was unique, written in a such a way that gave the impression the violin was improvising. Still, the notes held a beautiful singing tone and then ended thoughtfully.
Finally, the third and final movement started slow. A methodical piano introduction led into an exuberant Allegro. Fireworks and virtuosic passages rose from both violin and piano. Then, it came to an explosive end.
Jean-Pierre explained, “Strauss composed a complicated piece. There’s a lyrical beauty to the violinist’s movements.”
I watched him talk further, drooling the whole time at his nerdy side.
“But most of all, I love that sonata because it was the first song I’d ever spent many years learning. That song showed me how one could bleed without getting cut. I played it so much, that at my worst times in life, that song tended to be the song I was practicing. Good and bad. There’s so many memories.”
Intrigued, I asked, “What were some of the good times you played the song?”
“I played it for my wedding.” He gave a half smile. “Although that could be considered a bad time too.”