This review was written in tandem with that of the third
volume of Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s ongoing cycle and should
ideally be read in conjunction with it. Common to the two CDs
are all the pieces here starting from “Pièce pour piano” – called
“Morceaux de Concours” on Bavouzet’s disc. That way I can avoid
repeating, as well as my introductory remarks, the reasons for
which I find Ogawa at least as good, and often signally better
in all these pieces. What I will repeat is my contention that,
among recently completed or ongoing cycles, Ogawa’s and Bavouzet’s
are the most significant. The present disc is far from new, having
been issued in early 2003, but it has not been reviewed on MusicWeb
and it would seem of some importance to establish how Ogawa’s
first book of “Préludes” compares with that of Bavouzet, whose
first volume was dedicated to both books.
Ogawa’s
opening “Danseuses de Delphes” seems very slow, but this is
such a universal failing that maybe it’s just me – and Debussy’s
markings – that are out of step. She establishes a warm sonority,
full yet translucent, never heavy or hard. I appreciated this
the more in “Voiles” where the tempo seemed the natural one,
again in “Les sons et les parfums” and indeed in the slower
pieces generally. As noted à propos “La plus que lent”,
she can take a very slow tempo yet not lose sight of the overriding
rhythmic impulse, something she displays impressively in “Des
pas sur la neige”. Amid the general fidelity, a couple of eccentricities
stand out. When, in “Le vent dans la plaine”, the whirring semi-quavers
give way to cascading falling chords, she makes a pause so great
– both times – that I actually looked at my CD counter to see
if it had stopped playing. A small pause could be in order –
though Bavouzet makes none – but this makes no sense to me.
Nor can I understand why “En serrant” and “crescendo” on the
first page of “Les collines d’Anacapri” are interpreted as “En
retenant” and “diminuendo”. Nevertheless, of the humorous ones
this latter is well managed, and “La sérénade interrompue” especially
so, but “Minstrels” is unduly pulled around and “La danse de
Puck” is curiously slow and earthbound.
Ogawa
does not lack weight where required, but this set of “Préludes”
contains glimpses of an aspect of Debussy – well-known to the
public through “La Mer” for orchestra – which is practically
non-existent elsewhere in his piano music: that of sheer elemental
fury. Her “Le Vent dans la plaine” hardly sets your teeth on
edge, nor are the sudden outbreaks of wind at all frightening.
“Ce qu’a vu la Vent d’Ouest” delivers more than the tame opening
suggests, but a suggestion of good behaviour is never entirely
left behind.
All
this sounds like a lot of niggling over performances which leave
an ultimate impression of translucent beauty and poise. Bavouzet
brings a more questing, questioning mind to the job. His honing
in on textures, though, involves a lot of playing with hands
not quite together and split chords. This creates some fussy
textures at the beginning of “Danseuses de Delphes” and reaches
heights of grotesque self-parody in “Le sons et les parfums”.
His exceptional control of nuance produces superfine results
in “Des pas sur la neige” and a beautifully refined “La Fille
aux cheveux de lin”. His “Le Vent dans la plaine” is no more
elemental than Ogawa’s but, after a restrained beginning, he
manages to unleash more of a storm in “Ce qu’a vu le Vent d’Ouest”.
Whereas Ogawa plays “La Cathédrale engloutie” as written, Bavouzet
supports the idea – also followed by Thiollier and deriving
from a piano roll of Debussy’s own performance – that the composer
got his note values muddled up. Certain passages which seem
impossibly slow – especially if the opening chords are allowed
to toll as slowly as they seem to require – are therefore played
in double tempo. The idea being that Debussy wrote white notes
but meant black ones. Each artist provides strong projection
of his or her view. As time goes on I find the “Debussy-wrote-it-wrong”
theory more and more convincing. Bavouzet starts “Minstrels”
better in time than Ogawa, but too loudly. He is scarcely any
faster than her in “La danse de Puck”. I cannot fathom how anyone
who has heard Gieseking could feel this will do – or even anyone
who hasn’t heard Gieseking, quite frankly, since Debussy’s markings
seem quite clear.
There,
I’ve said the word and I shouldn’t have. Gieseking. Gieseking
can be a doubtful proposition in the minor pieces, many of which
he learnt for the recordings, and it sounds it, but in works
like the “Préludes” which he’d played all his life he remains
unassailable. However, passing from the present two examples
of superb modern engineering, the acclimatisation process was
not easy. It has to be said that those unwilling to make allowances
for historical sound may not have the patience to go back to
these 1950s efforts. The translucency of Gieseking’s touch nevertheless
lives on. And so does his volatility, something we rarely encounter
in today’s more static interpretations. The sudden fortissimos
in “Le vent dans la plaine” are awesome and in “Ce qu’a vu le
Vent d’Ouest” he sounds like a mad genius hitting everything
in sight, though actually most of the notes are right. Thiollier
made some attempt to recapture this volatility and at the Naxos
price his CD of the “Préludes” may be a useful supplement to
whichever calmer version you choose.
Returning
to the present pair, in truth the first book of “Préludes” seems
the weakest link in both their cycles to date. Bavouzet attempts
more but maybe of the two I’d sooner hear Ogawa.
I
haven’t mentioned “D’un cahier d’esquisses” – Bavouzet plays
this on his volume 2. Ogawa’s warm, glistening sonorities and
Bavouzet’s more tightly-drawn lines produce two of the finest
performances I know.
Christopher
Howell
Postscript
I
was in two minds whether to write the following. In the end, I
would not wish some bright spark to come up with: “But doesn’t
Chris Howell remember that he once wrote of ‘La plus que lent’
that ‘this piece alone would suffice to prove her place among
the great pianists’,” or words to that effect? And yes, you’ve
guessed it, the “her” in question wasn’t Noriko Ogawa it was Joyce
Hatto, under whose name Ogawa’s performance was fraudulently circulated
(as was also “Children’s Corner”, but I never heard that). Admittedly,
that’s the sort of hyperbolic phrase one writes after one has
been swept away by a fine performance of the “Etudes” (stolen
from Margit Rahkonen). Ultimately, can we really take just one
piece as evidence of pianistic “greatness”? Certainly, Ogawa’s
“La plus que lent” is superior to a good many, including Gieseking’s
hasty affair. I felt her “Boîte à joujoux” (on volume 3) suggested
greatness. Greatness drips unmistakably from every pore of Gieseking’s
“Préludes”. Well, I was sold a pup and I bought it. I can at least
console myself that Ogawa’s “La plus que lent” alone would suffice
to prove her among today’s finest Debussians. The stolen version
was speeded up somewhat, I understand. My “Hattos” are up in the
attic and they’re going to stay there so I haven’t compared the
two.
Noriko Ogawa
(piano) 
