There is much great
music and music-making here, and also
a powerful sense of history, for two
of the three works on this CD are performed
by the very soloists for whom they were
written and who gave their premières.
Add to that the presence of the composer,
duetting with the great Jacques Février
in the Concerto for Two Pianos, and
Maurice Duruflé, the original
soloist of the Organ Concerto (another
one of the most prominent French composers
of the 20th century) and
you have some idea of the significance
of this very special recording.
The Concert champêtre
was written for the great Wanda
Landowska, and first performed by her
in May 1929. It is one of a clutch of
pieces that helped bring the harpsichord
back into the musical ‘mainstream’,
and is a remarkable and highly entertaining
work. It has to be said, however, that
it is a piece that tends to be more
successful in recorded form than live;
Poulenc uses a fairly large symphony
orchestra, and, without amplification
(which rather destroys the whole concept),
the solo instrument struggles to be
heard. That said, this recording by
the Belgian harpsichordist Aimée
van de Wiele is superb, full of character
and rhythmic zest, and is totally worthy
of its noble dedicatee.
The Concerto for Two
Pianos is arguably Poulenc’s masterpiece
- in the instrumental field at any rate.
It has all of his special attributes
in ample quantities: the madcap humour,
the sudden plunges into dark melancholy,
the catchy tunes, and, most of all here,
the stylistic allusiveness. One moment
we are reminded of Chopin at his most
lyrical, the next of Mozart in his Elvira
Madigan vein, then (some say) we’re
transported to Indonesia with hints
of gamelan ... (I’ve never been totally
convinced of the last one, but many
listeners feel it). Francis lui-même
and Jacques Février, who together
gave the work its first outing back
in 1932, are spell-binding, as is the
accompaniment of Dervaux with the Paris
Orchestra. All the delightful, quirky
details of texture and harmony come
through in the most authentic way possible.
Much the same is true
of the final item, the great Organ Concerto.
Maurice Duruflé gives a massively
dramatic, sometimes terrifying performance
of this most ‘schizoid’ of all Poulenc’s
compositions. One moment we are in a
severely ecclesiastical mood, with memories
of Bach at his most solemn, the next
we are in the hurly-burly of the fairground
– all of which reflects perfectly legitimately
the varied character of the ‘King of
Instruments’. In the organ of the Parisian
church of Saint-Etienne du Mont, Duruflé
has the perfect instrument, capable
of dark resonance and garish reediness
in equal measure. There are one or two
slightly dodgy moments in the very high
violin music, but far from enough to
stop this from being anything other
than a classic performance.
Pity EMI couldn’t manage
to squeeze in the Piano Concerto too,
then we would have had all four of the
works for soloist and orchestra. But
wait a moment, what about the Aubade
….! No, let’s be satisfied and give
thanks for what we have here – a collection
of Poulenc recordings of the highest
possible pedigree.
Gwyn Parry-Jones
Great
Recordings of the Century series