Very populist programming,
definitely, on the part of Warner, with
Yukata Sado and the Radio France Orchestra
rising to the occasion splendidly. Perhaps
this disc’s success is summarised by
the opening and closing items - Dukas’
L’apprenti sorcier and Offenbach/Rosenthal’s
Gaîté parisienne,
pieces that sandwich works by Bizet.
L’apprenti sorcier
has achieved notoriety through filmic
association. As a counterbalance, I
recommend Carolyn Abbate’s chapter on
the work, ‘What the Sorcerer Said’,
in her book Unsung Voices (‘Opera
and Narrative in the Nineteenth Century’,
Princeton University Press, 1991, Chapter
2, pp 30-59) in which the author posits
that L’apprenti sorcier ‘rattles
the cage constructed of assumptions
about musical narration’ (p. 30). In
the course of so doing, Abbate exemplifies
a post-structuralist analyst’s reaction
against the all-encompassing organicism
of Schenker. In Sado’s hands, though,
it is just good old fun, whatever one’s
theoretic standpoint. The opening is
nice and mysterious, the early dance
fragment as cheeky as can be imagined.
If the brass can tend towards the literal,
the whole is graphic enough, even including
a smattering of tenderness later on
(around the 10’50 mark).
Gaîté
parisienne opens in a riot of colour,
The work is a ballet by Manuel Rosenthal
fashioned from Offenbach melodies. Rosenthal
was a pupil of Ravel’s and so orchestrational
mastery is virtually a given. The ‘Vivo’
(track 14) is actually fairly comic-strip
in nature, making a link in a sense
to the Dukas. Sado gets eyebrow-raisingly
suave playing from his forces in the
Valse (track 17).
In between a main course
of Bizet - excerpts from Carmen
and L’Arlésienne Suites.
The Spanish rhythms of Carmen
are presented in almost sun-drenched
colour. Everything trips along nicely
in the ‘Danse bohémienne’. Sado
finds a robust side to the Prélude
to L’Arlésienne Suite
No. 1, even almost tending towards the
violent in the ‘Farandole’ In Suite
No. 2.
The 1997 sound is more
than adequate. If you’re looking for
something of this ilk (nothing here
to strain the intellect or the emotions),
this will fit the bill nicely.
Colin Clarke