Once past the unceremonious
opening thump, this is quite
the performance of the Poulenc concerto.
Frank Braley and Eric LeSage (BMG-RCA
Red Seal 82876 603082 review),
highlighted the first movement's ferocity
- most uncharacteristic of this composer.
The Genova and Dimitrov duo afford themselves
a wide range of colors and dynamics,
making split-second pivots from playfulness
through bustling good cheer to sheer
menace. The only noticeable flaw in
their accomplished, precise, purposeful
playing is the brittle sound of some
loud passage-work; otherwise, soloists
and conductor alike find more variety
in the score than do RCA's adept practitioners.
The slow movement makes a good contrast,
the main theme relaxed if square, the
passage at 1:10 adding a suppressed
anxiety. And, from the opening repeated-note
figurations - nasty stuff to play, no
matter how many pianos share them -
extroverted sparkle and bounding energy
dominate the finale. The pianissimo,
four minutes in, is also breathtaking.
To follow Poulenc's
concerto immediately with Milhaud's
isn't doing the latter composer any
favors. His lively themes and puckish
dissonances are appealing, as always,
but he falls into the trap of using
the two pianos to pile on the sonorities:
where Poulenc's piano parts are linear
and economical, Milhaud's writing is
predominantly chordal, and given a heavy,
undifferentiated orchestral backing
to boot. The second movement particularly
suffers: its eerie, yearning bitonality
would have been more effective were
it cast in sparer textures. Only occasionally
do quieter contrapuntal moments, such
as the finale's first orchestral passage,
provide aural relief. The pianists don't
avoid a touch of glare, but, all things
considered, they acquit themselves rather
well: the whole thing could have been
intolerably clangorous.
Somehow, the Casadesus
concerto almost seems out of place here.
Certainly the pungent harmonies, shiny
sonorities, and sharply etched rhythms
mark it indelibly as twentieth-century
French. But Casadesus eschews wit and
outward sophistication in favor of an
ambiguous, Ravelian harmonic idiom.
The first movement's bubbling-cauldron
figurations and low trumpet parts bring
that composer's left-hand concerto to
mind. A respite comes with the middle
movement's liquid woodwind soli and
shape-shifting tonalities, capped by
the bright and busy finale. If this
serious, uncompromising score occasionally
seems to strain at "importance", there's
enough good humor and crisp drive to
avoid heaviness. As the duo-pianists
seem to get every note of the perfectly
transparent solo parts in place, the
album would be recommendable for this
piece alone.
At the podium, Alun
Francis does a remarkable job at elucidating
and shaping the diverse orchestral sounds
of these three composers. The sound
is excellent - which still doesn't particularly
help Milhaud.
Stephen Francis Vasta