The critical and popular acclaim which greeted Alkan, as composer and pianist, upon his emergence from a self-imposed, six-year retirement in a Salle Erard recital on April 29, 1844, prompted new compositions, including the Bourrée d'Auvergne, Le chemin de fer, and two marches dedicated to his pupil, the Duchess of Montebello: the Marche funèbre and Marche triomphale. Though the latter pieces were published by Brandus in 1846, Alkan is known to have privately performed them, in the bosom of an admiring salon coterie, in the latter part of 1844. Playing about ten minutes, the Marche funèbre unfolds against the persistent imitation of muffled drums, with muted chords suggesting a solemn tread slowy rising to a restrained lament. The drums return, yielding this time to a grand tolling, as if the bells of the cathedrals were pealing to greet the departed. At last, the initial lament becomes eloquent, majestic, and moving before fading out with a tolling reminiscence. If the pictorial element makes this a less immediately affecting piece than, say, the great funeral march of the Sonata No. 2 of his friend Chopin, which was composed in the same year, or less vivid than Berlioz's 1840 Symphonie funèbre et triomphale for marching band, it nevertheless possesses an evocative power in being less fully realized than suggestively sketched. It is only with the magnificent Marche funèbre of the Études (12) dans les tons mineurs, Op. 39 -- the second movement of the Symphonie that comprises etudes four through seven -- that Alkan, in the funereal vein, rivals Chopin in mordant concentration and Berlioz in grandeur. ~ Adrian Corleonis, Rovi