Neeme Järvi's discography is very diverse and seemingly
endless. He has been particularly successful - I would say - in many of the
less familiar areas of the repertoire. One seldom knows whether it is the CD
company or the conductor who has been the driving force behind the selected
repertoire. In either case it is good to find Järvi recording music by
Chabrier, whose orchestral output may well be a little greater than many
people imagine. There are gems here, so I should add that Chabrier's
orchestral music is also of higher quality than is generally acknowledged.
Certainly most of it is imbued with sunshine and
joie de vivre.
We start with the most substantial piece - the
Suite
pastorale. Järvi has a good instinct for this delightful music, the
composer's own orchestration of four of his marvellous
Dix Pièces
pittoresques for piano. When Poulenc inserted a coin into a machine and
first heard the opening
Idylle (in its piano version) he was
captivated. Many years later he wrote “Even today it makes me tremble
with emotion to think of the resultant miracle; a whole universe of harmony
suddenly opened up before me, and my music has never forgotten that first
kiss.” For me also this wonderful piece never loses its innocent
freshness and fascination. Järvi handles
Idylle sensitively,
with close attention to dynamics, but his tempo feels
just a tiny bit
hurried. Chabrier marks
Allegretto crotchet = 120 for the piano
original but
Andantino, poco con moto for this orchestration.
Sous
bois (crotchet = 60 in the piano version, merely
Andantino in the
suite) also is slightly impatient and short on languor but, once one has
become used to the tempo it clear that it is nicely handled. The two faster
movements are fine, very well played and again show Järvi's excellent
attention to dynamics and telling detail as well as his buoyancy of rhythm.
Putting reservations aside, I believe he has an affinity with this music.
Järvi gives a magnificent performance of the
Bourrée
fantasque, another piece originally composed for piano and a masterpiece
with so many harmonic anticipations of music to come, French or otherwise.
As Roger Nichols writes in his informative and illuminating notes,
“The bourrée was a dance especially popular in the Auvergne
(Chabrier's native region), where it was generally performed in
clogs.” Järvi captures this rugged stamping effect and observes
all markings and nuances - the numerous accents and
sforzandos
especially - while relishing the eccentricity and changes of mood. This is
among the finest recordings I have heard, though the even more robust Paul
Paray and the Detroit Symphony should not be missed (
review). Both here and in the splendid
Joyeuse marche
the warm but over-reverberant acoustic of Geneva's Victoria Hall rather
blunts the sharp edge of Chabrier's rhythms. Nonetheless the march receives
another fine performance, as does the more serious, Wagner-influenced
Gwendoline Overture - though this is
not as swashbuckling as
Beecham (
EMI,
BBC,
Magdalen) or as thrilling as Paray.
The
Habanera shows yet another different aspect of Chabrier
and here Järvi is delightfully characterful and rhythmically buoyant.
España is notable for some superb trombone playing - also
evident in
Gwendoline and the
Bourrée fantasque - but
Järvi's reading is good rather than exceptional. Here his attention to
accents sometimes sounds laboured rather than natural, giving the melodic
line a bumpy ride. In
Lamento, the earliest and least familiar item
on the CD, Järvi compares rather unfavourably with Hervé Niquet
(
Naxos
8.554248) who finds more depth and passion and shows more belief in this
neglected piece. The disc ends with operatic music of a very different kind
from
Gwendoline, and with these extracts we revisit the composer's
more characteristic warm-heartedness and sense of fun. Among the greatest
admirers of
L'Étoile - and Chabrier's music in general - was
Stravinsky, a man of exacting taste who incidentally was subtly influenced
by Chabrier. Of the three
L'Étoile extracts the overture is
short on sparkle, while the
Fête polonaise from
Le Roi
malgré lui (a comic opera greatly admired by Ravel) is spirited
but a bit rushed. The final track, the
Danse slave, shows Järvi
at his most engaged.
This disc is very good in parts but generally a little too variable
to deserve an outright welcome.
Philip Borg-Wheeler
Previous review:
Raymond J Walker
