The novelty here is Théodore Dubois’s 1897 Violin Concerto,
heard in what appears to be its first ever recording. Dubois
(1837-1924) was professor and later director of the Paris Conservatoire,
serving the institution for over three decades between 1871
and 1905, when he retired. He was also active as a church musician,
and was organist at La Madeleine, 1877-1896. His Violin Concerto
was dedicated to Henri Marteau (1874-1934), a scion of the French
school who made a number of prized recordings. Together the
violinist and composer introduced the concerto through a noisy
premiere but subsequently a triumphant performance a week later.
Though it’s roughly contemporaneous with the concertos of Tchaikovsky
and Sibelius, Dubois’s work harks back to more classical, explicitly
French models. One can detect some academic influence from,
say, Rode. It’s a very genial sounding work, with some cleverly
orchestrated passages but it lacks a memorable tune and a level
of consistency that has presumably added to its neglect. Some
of the first movement passagework is prosaic and whilst this
is true of far better known works, here it matters more because
the idiom is quite backward-looking and lacks the lift of late-Romanticism.
But this is also, to be fair to Dubois, part of his scheme,
because the slow movement is not at all ‘laden’ or especially
reflective. It is, on the contrary, surprisingly bright and
cheerful, and taken at a fine lick by the performers. It’s lyrical
without ever being distinctive, however – despite Dubois’s authentically
excellent writing for winds. The burlesque-type finale soon
becomes rather more conventional – what a pleasure had Dubois
kept up the level of caprice throughout the whole movement –
and there’s a truly powerful cadenza to draw the work to a close.
This worthwhile restoration is coupled with the Lalo Symphonie
espagnole, whose profusion of great themes, gloriously expansive
gestures and expressive arsenal rather shows up the later work
- which is unfortunate. Frédéric Pélassy is an alumnus of such
fiddlers as Menuhin, Bron and Végh and makes a nice, albeit
smallish sound, and over-indulges one or two over-hushed pianissimi.
He’s also rather one-dimensional tonally, and is very forward
in the balance and has to contend with some shrieking high winds
from the Slovak orchestra, though the cheery clarinet counterpoint
in the Scherzando is well attended to. There’s little real sultriness
however, nor any great depth in the slow movement. Overall this
is a conscientious, not very graphic or gripping account, lacking
sparkle.
A small point about the booklet; there are a few misprints but
also those blow-ups from the internet that, full-page, lack
all sharpness and are very fuzzy. I know myself how easily this
can happen, but I still wince to see it. There also sound like
one or two rough edits, including a bit of a clunker just before
the final orchestral chords of the Lalo.
Jonathan Woolf
Frédéric Pélassy (violin) 
