Symphonie Nº 2

My music has always been conceived for the orchestra, whether real or imaginary. In fact, my first loves were symphonic: from Brahms to Bartók, from Ravel to Lutoslawski, not forgetting Hollywood film soundtracks.
From the simple sonata to the symphony, my language prioritizes timbre, color, polyrhythm and sonic density. The symphony also offers a narrative space through which it is possible to tell (oneself) a story, even an abstract one.
The story of the Second Symphony begins with a slap in the face: a violent wind cluster gives way to the dull roar of the lower strings, creating a climate of anxiety that lasts forever. Over this anguished fabric, brass calls emerge in repeated fortissimo notes, becoming the movement’s true leitmotif. The movement ends abruptly, with no real conclusion.
In contrast, the second part is a page of frank, nostalgic lyricism. With a melancholy melody in modal colors, the solo oboe ushers in a slow build-up of power throughout the orchestra. Gradually, the work of counterpoint leads to an almost ecstatic climax in which time seems to dilute. The movement ends pianissimo, in a painful enigma of ambiguous harmonies.
The last movement is more outward, lighter and rhythmically irregular. Composed as a tribute to Jerry Goldsmith (a Hollywood composer too quickly forgotten), it is built entirely on a sequence of asymmetrical bars (5-7-5-9) from which emanate a festive feeling sometimes akin to jazz.
Without a moment’s pause, the music flows allegro towards a luminous finale, free of all tension.
Rhythmic energy, harmonic opulence and a variety of colors are the hallmarks of this symphony, composed like a portrait and whose research is more expressive than experimental.