This is one heck of a collection, and beautifully
performed throughout. I’ve mentioned that feeling of a
record feeling ‘right’ in the groove almost before
the music starts, and this is very much one of these. The opening
of Images is genuinely haunting, the unearthly sounds
sending one scurrying for the score to find out what is going
on. Fear not; ’tis only a trio clarinets, but those little
grace notes never sounded quite so spooky. Don’t turn
up the volume too loud, as the opening of the second movement
Ibéria will blow your wig off.
This is the kind of state of the art recording which will mercilessly
reveal inaccuracies, but everyone is at the top of their game,
and you can hear the care and preparation which has gone into
making these performances better than many or most, perhaps
even all. Such attention to detail might of course lead to over-analytical
sterility, but there are plenty of little touches which will
automatically raise a smile. Have a listen to those brass glissandi
at 5:04 in that second of the Images. These things aren’t
always as apparent as they might be in recordings, and Denève
does just enough to give them prominence without becoming vulgar.
Le Matin d’un jour de fête is tremendously
pictorial, with hefty string pizzicati and a powerful sense
of folksy fun and perhaps even some danger - the spirit of Stravinsky
just around the corner. The rhythmic power towards the end of
Rondes de printemps is irresistible.
Jeux was Debussy’s last original orchestral work,
and written for a Diaghilev ballet - first performed in fact
just two weeks before Stravinsky’s infamous première
of Le Sacre du printemps. Debussy is less overtly controversial
than Stravinsky, but this remains music full of enigmatic tonal
questions and a remarkably complex structure. This is one recording
and performance in which all of the “brief, kaleidoscopically
changing themes [and] orchestration continually in flux”
of Roger Nichols’ booklet notes can be heard with startling
clarity. This is tricky enough music to play let alone to create
a choreography for or to dance to, but the imagination is set
alight by such a brilliant performance. The booklet has a complete
outline of the narrative, which is a fascinating read.
Nocturnes is nothing if not atmospheric in its outer
movements, and the opening Nuages is superbly melancholic
here. The weight of the brass chords in the central Fêtes
will blow your socks off, and the choir of Sirènes
is suitably distant and ethereal, if just a fraction below the
note in places. I’ve always liked André Previn’s
London Symphony Orchestra Debussy recording, to be found in
various guises on EMI,
and his Nocturnes is inspiring. The choir is a little
more forward and vibrato laden than with Denève and the
Chandos production is a little more glossy, but Previn stands
as a reminder that even the best of new recordings can’t
take away the superlatives from some of the classic versions.
I’ve pulled a few references out to make comparisons for
these pieces, but this Chandos recording and Stéphane
Denève’s conducting knocks most of them into a
cocked tricorne. Jean Martinon’s EMI collection with the
Orchestre National de l’ORTF (see review)
has plenty of French character and pungency, but also includes
plenty of edgy intonation. A more recent collection on single
discs has emerged from the Naxos label with the Orchestre National
de Lyon conducted by Jun Märkl, and the playing here is
of a higher if more homogenised standard to Martinon. These
recordings are full of beautiful moments and received mixed
if generally positive reviews when released, but once again
Denève has the Lyon orchestra beaten at every turn. The
atmosphere is more uniquely breathtaking, the dance rhythms
lighter and more convincingly driven, the recording a more balanced
and integrated orchestral picture with the Naxos sound tending
to be a touch too spotlit, picking out solos beautifully but
losing that essential sense of integration when everything is
brought together.
Moving on to the second disc, and a La Mer which again
is strong on atmosphere. We all have our individual associations
with this kind of work, and for me this is a seascape of abstracts
rather than redolent of any specific region - southern, Atlantic,
it could be any impressive seascape. String separation is a
notable feature of some passages in De l’aube à
midi sur la mer, the clarity in the 5th minute
creating striking darting spatial effects.There’s
a greater sense of threat and danger in Martinon’s Dialogue
du vent et de la mer, Denève’s cleanliness
of texture holding out a scene which has an extra layer of Turner-esque
objectivity; superb for the imagination, but without the feeling
that you are about to be dragged under, to wonder briefly if
your wristwatch really is Water Resistant before being consumed
by uncaring nature. The climaxes are magnificent however, and
there are no real complaints to be heard from me.
Katherine Bryan’s limpid flute solo in Prélude
à l’après-midi d’une faune deserves
a mention - every flautist’s dream moment. The beautifully
rounded horn sound and everything else is also gorgeously sumptuous.
This is of course one of Debussy’s sexiest scores, and
the shimmering summer heat is beautifully portrayed, the effulgent
scenario laid out with remarkable succulence. The Marche
écossaise sur un thème populaire is something
of a filler and gets a nice airing here. Printemps is
a far more substantial addition, though with plenty of that
earlier salon-style melodic facility which helped Debussy keep
his head above water. This is however the first of his works
to which the term ‘impressionism’ was applied, and
the moods and orchestral sonorities are tinted with some remarkable
colours and effects. This makes Printemps dangerously
modern for its time, though this is hard to imagine that kind
of opinion today with the RSNO’s rich string tones and
lyrical fluidity.
The revised movements from Debussy’s early prizewinning
cantata L’Enfant prodigue are closer to contemporary
convention, but still manage to convey a strong pictorial sense,
pre-echoing the composer’s responses to nature and poetry.
Both this and the final Berceuse héroïque
are produced with the same attention to detail as every other
score in this collection. This final track is by no means a
pompous celebration of heroism, but is in fact a rather quiet
wartime “tribute to the Belgian King and People”
which includes quotations from the national anthem ‘La
Brabançonne’.
This double SACD set has been packaged in a slimline cardboard
box which further houses a substantial booklet with full notes
on each piece in English, German and French. The SACD production
is superb, as much for the luxuriant and sonic fidelity as for
the 5.0 spread of sound, which at times develops astounding
acuteness. Debussy’s orchestration and musical imagination
is something which responds very well indeed to this treatment,
and this is one collection in which you can bathe from beginning
to end without having to change the bathwater. I’m not
going to be critical in this regard, but some may see this collection
as lacking in that last ounce of Gallic verve, the kind of edgy
sense of near-anarchy which some older recordings can convey.
The standard of playing and the layering of orchestral colours
and harmonies are unsurpassed, and I will take this kind of
playing, which does have its own character, over the inspired
liabilities of numerous older recordings, classic status or
no. To my ears this has been approached in the same way as baking
cakes: that kind of cooking which demands carefully weighed
and sifted alchemy to succeed. You may not want to be eating
cake every day but the results here are delicious - moist and
with great depth of flavour; not too sweet, and a feast for
every sense - we’ll be keeping Mr Denève’s
number and ordering more when the time comes.
Dominy Clements
Masterwork Index: La
Mer
Women of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra Chorus* 
[78:04 + 68:22] 