Claude DEBUSSY (1862-1918)
Cello Sonata in D minor (1915) [11:58]
Violin Sonata in G minor (1916-17) [12:51]
Première rhapsodie for Clarinet (1909-10) [7:29]
Syrinx (1913) [2:19]
Suite bergamasque (1890-1905) [17:44]
Préludes, Book II: La Terrasse des audiences du clair de lune (1912-13)
[4:26]
André Lévy (cello) and Geneviève Joy (piano)
Marie-Claude Theuveny (violin) and Franck Theuveny (piano)
Jacques Lancelot (clarinet) and Robert Veyron-Lacroix (piano)
Jean-Pierre Rampal (flute)
Marie-Thérèse Fourneau (piano)
rec. 1953-57, Paris
FORGOTTEN RECORDS FR 142 [56:47]
This all-Debussy disc has been forged from Ducretet-Thomson, Pacific and Bam
LPs of the 1953-57 period. They have been well chosen, too, given that the
string sonatas are in less well-known performances. Elsewhere there is the
young Jean-Pierre Rampal and his clarinettist colleague Jacques Lancelot,
and two outstanding pianists in Marie-Thérèse Fourneau and Robert
Veyron-Lacroix.
This all adds up to something of a feast for lovers of the more obscure gems
from the French chamber music LP catalogue. If you are not put off, and you
shouldn’t be, by recordings that are now sixty years old, then investigation
will be a worthwhile experience.
You’ll encounter André Lévy and Geneviève Joy in
the Cello Sonata. I’ve written about both musicians before, and Lévy
in particular is the quintessential chamber player. He had played in Lucien
Capet’s trio in the 1920s, a distinguished position indeed, and had
enjoyed an important place in French musical life ever since. By the time
of this recording he had joined the Trio de France, with violinist Jeanne
Gautier and Geneviève Joy numbering the other two members.
Lévy was nearly sixty when he recorded the Sonata in 1953. His tone
had always been on the small side, which is not problematic, but it had taken
on a slight nasality over the years, and this is audible in the recording.
He wasn’t at all a flashy player: on the contrary he was inclined to
be reserved, ruminative and somewhat patrician in his playing. There is breadth
of phrasing, but not necessarily overt excitement in this performance. In
that respect he is no match for the incisive Maurice Maréchal, whose
classic 1930 recording set a tough benchmark to follow. Nevertheless Lévy
makes the pizzicati in the second movement sound like a banjo rather than
the proto-Charles Mingus malarkey that some contemporary cellists inflict
on this episode, but Lévy, in truth, doesn’t seem at his best
in this movement, and sounds happier in the finale.
Geneviève Joy accompanies adeptly, and she often accompanied the next
soloist, Marie-Claude Theuveny, though not here, where the violinist is accompanied
by her own brother, the musical orthodontist Franck Theuveny. This is another
1953 recording. The violinist has a facile technique but is a touch prone
to slithery phrasing and to slightly over-elastic rubati. The tone itself
is quite thin. The duo makes a good impression nonetheless.
Rampal unveils Syrinx, presumably his first recording of it, and Lancelot,
joined by Veyron-Lacroix play the Rhapsodie for Clarinet No.1 with
considerable distinction - the clarinettist’s lower register is cornet-like
in richness. Finally there is the delightful Suite bergamasque played
by the sensitive Marie-Thérèse Fourneau at modest tempi.
This is an interesting collection, then. Much of it has been forgotten in
the intervening years, which makes its reinstatement here so valuable.
Jonathan Woolf
Much of this interesting collection has been forgotten in the intervening
years, which makes its reinstatement here so valuable.
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