This has to be one
of my ‘Records of the Year 2006’. Hamelin
is known for his explorations of the
piano repertoire, but this borders on
genius. The Dukas is not unknown territory,
for sure, but it needs a shove. The
recording by John Ogdon is not easy
to find - last seen on EMI Matrix, if
I am not mistaken. Margaret Fingerhut
on Chandos does not really cut it. Hamelin
plays it for all he is worth. Top that
off with state-of-the-art booklet notes
by Roger Nichols and a gorgeous Monet
on the front cover, and this must be
a sure-fire winner.
The sheer length of
the Dukas sonata presumably accounts
for its absence from concert programmes.
Yet it is a wonderful work. Indeed hearing
the very opening goes some way towards
explaining the duration – one is presented
with a mouth-watering flow of ideas
- exquisitely balanced in this performance.
Hamelin, what’s more, seems born to
play this. It is as if the music could
go on forever, almost Scriabin-like
at times in its unwillingness to assert
harmonic arrival points. The recording
(Andrew Keener and Simon Eadon) is demonstration
class. The highest compliment I can
give it is to comment that one does
not notice its excellence. Rather, attention
is focused completely on the music,
with no tinny trebles or muffled basses
to get in the way.
The second movement
(‘Calme, un peu lent’) is elusive, fragmentary
and very tender indeed. Once again it
is the effortless flow that is most
appealing. Hamelin’s legendary technique
comes in useful for the ‘Vivement’ third
movement. The music positively buzzes;
the contrasting sections are real aural
balm. The grand finale - very identifiably
French chords at the beginning - seems
to last much less than its fourteen-minute
duration, once again because of Hamelin’s
delivery of the effortless ebb and flow.
Amazingly, at no point along the way
does this work seem overlong.
The inspired coupling
is by Abel Decaux. Decaux was an organ
student of Widor and Guilmant and a
composition student of Massenet at the
Paris Conservatoire. He acted as organist
at Sacré Coeur for a quarter
of a century before moving to the States
in 1923 - to teach organ at the Eastman
School of Music. Apparently the music
on this disc is all that is known by
him.
Clairs de lune
is a set of four pieces. The first,
‘Menuet passé’, emerges out of
a Debussian haze. Very harmonically
sensitive, it contains some spikiness
and almost abrasive sound explosions.
‘La ruelle’ is mesmeric Night Music
(what is the dynamic marking at the
end, I wonder – ppppppp?). A
mysterious ‘Le cimetière’ leads
to a ‘La mer’ that invokes the mystery
of the sea; astonishing tremolandi,
even for Hamelin! Simply stunning.
Colin Clarke