Widor is renowned for his organ music and some people know his
Conte d’Avril and the symphonies. But he wrote
copiously in almost all forms, including opera, although melodies
would probably be the last area one would associate with him.
Yet, there are almost one hundred songs in his output, of which
we have an extended cycle and five individual songs on this
disc.
Both the strength and weakness of Widor’s songs lies in
their attention to structure. In Chansons de Mer the
overall tonal layout makes for a very interesting group, far
more interesting than a random gathering. On the other hand,
the same attention to detail within an individual song gets
in the way of the underlying emotion. The end result is mixed
in terms of interest.
The fourteen Chansons de Mer are structurally built around
four of the songs: the first, La mer, the fifth, La
petite coulevre bleu, the tenth, Les Nuages and the
last, Repos éternel. In the first the vastness
of the sea is evoked as a counterpart to the vastness of human
emotions. The result is rather muted, although there are some
individual gems in the Chansons. Petite coulevre
is perhaps the best of all the songs, telling a tale of betrayal
and disappointment. In Les Nuages, which is one of the
most dramatic of all the songs, there is not much about the
sea. Instead the East is evoked as a place to flee life’s
troubles. The last song tells of the narrator’s wishes
for his tomb and for how his friends should feel at his last
moments. This sums up the cycle well poetically and Widor rises
to the occasion musically with a quote from his Suite Latine.
The other five songs on the disc mostly come from later in Widor’s
output than the Chansons de Mer and tend to be longer
and slightly less lyrical. La nuit is quite profound
and the change in mood from ladies on the grass to the dead
who can love no more is well done. Tristesse infinie
is full of nostalgia, while Nuit mystérieuse is
reminiscent of Duparc, although not quite in his league. Dormez,
Mèlité is the most expressive of the five,
while Oublieras-tu que d’heures douce is a slight
disappointment.
I was well acquainted with Jeremy Filsell as an organist, but
not nearly as well as a pianist. In his role of accompanist
he is extremely subtle, which is just what these works both
as poems and songs require. Michael Bundy is blessed with just
the right type of voice for this repertoire and a great ability
to shape a song. His one fault is that he sometime fails to
differentiate sufficiently in style between one song and another,
although some might lay that at the feet of the composer. The
recording quality is quite notable - the sound at St. George’s
School adds to the overall effect, although the same cannot
be said for Dulwich Hall. Overall, this is a somewhat uneven
production, but one in which the rarity of the repertoire overrides
other concerns.
William Kreindler
Michael Bundy (baritone); Jeremy Filsell (piano) 
