In choosing arrangements of modernist pieces for her album Paris Mécanique,
Sabine Meyer aims to evoke the insouciance of European music in the early decades of the twentieth century, and to convey some of the esprit of the revolutionary movements of the time. Yet students of the period will note with annoyance that
Meyer includes several pieces that have only tangential connections to her theme and ones that plainly fall outside the timeframe. Certainly,
Erik Satie,
Darius Milhaud, and
Francis Poulenc belong to the years immediately following World War I, and with some stretching, Gabriel Pierné,
Scott Joplin, and Jean Françaix may be allowed for close proximity. But the much later compositions by
Leroy Anderson,
Ennio Morricone,
Michael Riessler, and Daniel Goyone seem irrelevant in the album's modernist context, and appear to be included merely because
Meyer and her fellow performers liked the arrangements, and found rationalizations to make them fit. As music of dry wit, mechanistic "objectivity," and sarcastic bite, the pieces suggest the anti-Romantic sensibility and confrontational stance of many avant-garde artistic groups, and some of the droll sound of French popular music is summoned in the combination of clarinets and barrel organ. To the extent that clarinetists
Meyer,
Riessler, Trio di Clarone, and barrel organist
Pierre Charial offer this as a viable instrumental blend, it is at least interesting to hear, though not representative of the palette most of these composers used. Because the album is thick with this sound, listeners will find that a strong liking for it is a more important aid to appreciation than an interest in the selections' cultural significance or historical accuracy. Ultimately, though, the angular melodies, jerky rhythms, hard-edged tones, squeaky timbres, and cold expressions of the performances are hard to take in one sitting, and even the most patient listeners may find only a few selections tolerable.