When this recording
first appeared in 1968 it was something
of a ground-breaker. It was made during
the years (1965-1969) that Seiji Ozawa
was Music Director of the Toronto Symphony
Orchestra. The booklet note claims that
this was the first recording of the
work made in the Western hemisphere.
Of much less importance, it was the
medium through which I first encountered
the piece. I was introduced to it, not
long after its release, by my old teacher
and friend (and sometime contributor
to this site), Adrian Smith. The recording
was spread over three LP sides and with
equal enterprise the fourth side was
taken up by a recording of November
Steps by Toru Takemitsu. I well
remember how baffling the piece seemed
at first. Happily, repeated auditions
of the work, both in Ozawa’s recording
and others, helped me to get to grips
with it. I also attended, with Adrian,
a memorable concert performance in a
sparsely-filled Free Trade Hall, Manchester,
which was given by what was then the
BBC Northern Symphony Orchestra under
Gilbert Amy, with Yvonne Loriod playing
the piano part. Memorably, the evening
was crowned by the appearance on-stage
of Messiaen himself to acknowledge the
applause.
I mention these recollections
simply because Turangalîla
is that sort of piece. It is, perhaps,
one of the ultimate pièces
d’occasion, one which is almost
bound to make a huge impact on the listener
through its sheer scale, the audacity
and voluptuousness of its orchestration
and the vast forces required to perform
it. It is also distinguished by memorable
thematic material and copious musical
invention.
It was commissioned
in 1945 by Serge Koussevitzky and was
premièred by the Boston Symphony
in 1949 under Koussevitzky’s protégé,
Leonard Bernstein. The score must have
stretched even the virtuosity of the
Bostonians at that time. As for Bernstein’s
performance, I’d give anything to hear
it. There’s a tantalizing glimpse of
what it might have been like thanks
to the inclusion of a rehearsal snippet,
just a few moments long, in the BSO’s
Symphony Hall Centennial collection
of CDs. I have read that there is a
recording of the first performance in
the American Library of Congress and
it would be a major coup if someone
could organise a CD release of that.
But Ozawa’s recording
was the first mainstream recording and
for that reason alone justifies its
status as a landmark. In fact, I think
it merits serious consideration by collectors
for other reasons too. It must be 35
years since I heard it and since then
I’ve collected very fine recordings
by Previn and Rattle (both EMI). However,
returning to this Ozawa version I’ve
been struck by its power, its refinement,
its verve, its sensitivity and its overall
excellence.
For those unfamiliar
with the work, the title itself calls
for some explanation. It’s a combination
of two Sanskrit words, which can be
rendered into English in a subtle variety
of ways. My preferred translation is
by the composer and Messiaen biographer,
Robert Sherlaw Johnson who, quoting
Messiaen himself explains it thus: "lîla,
meaning love, sport, amusement or
play, in the sense of divine action
on the "cosmos….; and turanga,
meaning time which flows, movement or
rhythm." So the work is, in Messiaen’s
words, quoted in the booklet, "a song
of love; a hymn to the superhuman joy
that transcends everything."
Cast in ten movements,
the work requires a vast orchestra including
strings, triple wind, a huge brass section
and an enormous battery of percussion.
This last is crucial to the sound of
the orchestra for it is constituted
like a gamelan, with an enormous variety
of instruments. Tellingly, Messiaen
eschews the use of timpani and, with
the exception of a bass drum and the
ubiquitous gongs, most of the percussion
instruments are those which make bright,
often metallic sounds. In addition to
all this there are crucial parts for
two keyboard soloists. One of these
is an ondes martenot, the strange,
electronic keyboard instrument which
can only sound one note at a time but
which is also capable of the most amazing
glissando effects, here employed
most vividly. The other is a piano.
The huge piano part is one of formidable
difficulty and is the principal producer
of the myriad birdsong sounds that one
hears in the score. In this present
performance the Loriod sisters, who
played in the work’s première,
I believe, display consummate virtuosity.
In many respects Turangalîla
is over the top. Its length is enormous,
its invention is prodigal and some of
the thematic material and harmonies
are lush almost to the point of excess.
Is it hedonistic? Probably. Is it a
self-indulgent wallow? Definitely not.
One needs to listen past the
many huge climaxes and instances of
ultra-sweet harmony to discover a work
that teems with invention and compositional
skill. The rhythmic ingenuity for one
thing is absolutely staggering. At times
also the contrapuntal skill with which
Messiaen deals with his material is
tremendous. The melodic invention is
also of a high order; many of the themes
are very memorable and Messiaen uses
motto themes to unify the work; these
are helpful signposts to the listener.
Finally, the orchestration is that of
a master. The score is a riot of colour
but Messiaen mixes his palette most
skilfully and while there are many passages
of almost deafening volume for each
of these there are two or three of marvellous
tranquillity and subtlety. The score
is a mixture of awesome musical power
and great beauty.
How do Ozawa and his
players acquit themselves? Well, the
short answer is that they serve Messiaen’s
great vision uncommonly well. This is
the sort of music in which Ozawa excels.
Throughout, rhythms are tight and precise.
One litmus test is the fifth movement,
Joie du sang des étoiles (Joy
of the star’s blood). This is a real
virtuoso test, a sweeping, exciting
toccata. The Toronto players pass this
stiff test with flying colours and give
a truly envigorating account of this
headlong movement. At the very end there’s
a huge chord, thrillingly capped by
a sustained high note on the ondes.
The chord seems to go on for ever and
is gradually drenched in gong sounds.
It’s a tremendous moment, brilliantly
captured here.
Immediately after that
comes the longest movement, a daringly
slow and hugely atmospheric piece entitled
Jardin du sommeil d’amour (Garden
of love’s sleep.) It’s sensuous, languorous
and erotic (and perhaps unsurprisingly
it’s the subject of the Bernstein rehearsal
snippet to which I referred earlier.)
Against a background of slow-moving
chords on the strings, enriched by the
unique sound of the ondes, the piano,
woodwinds and percussion trace a delicate
filigree of sounds. This decoration
is most sensitively applied here. Some
will find this movement completely self-indulgent.
For myself, I’m glad to surrender to
it. The booklet notes print a commentary
by Messiaen on each movement, abridged
from the notes that accompanied the
original release. If memory serves me
correctly after all these years his
original notes concluded with a comment,
sadly omitted here: "Hush! The lovers
are sleeping. Let’s not wake them."
I’ve mentioned two
movements specifically. I could cite
many other examples but it would take
far longer than the scope of this review
permits to do justice to this work or
this recording. Though it has received
a bad press in certain quarters on account
of alleged self-indulgence, Turangalîla
is a score of enormous importance
in the history of music in the second
half of the twentieth century. It is
known to have influenced a large number
of composers. For those with ears to
hear it, its colourful optimism must
have been a liberating force after the
grim, austere days of the Second World
War. As to this performance I can only
say that in my opinion it is wholly
worthy of this tumultuous score. Ozawa
directs with panache and flair and he
evinces total commitment to the music
and understanding of it. The orchestra
respond magnificently. The recorded
sound is vivid and atmospheric.
I’m not sure if this
performance has been available on CD
before but it should be snapped up without
delay. In my opinion Turangalîla
is a seminal work and a masterpiece.
Right now I can’t think of a better
way to experience this work than through
this full-blooded yet sensitive reading
and I recommend this CD urgently.
John Quinn
Yvonne Loriod (piano); Jeanne Loriod (ondes martenot);
