Concerto in G minor for Organ, Strings and Timpani (1938) [22:38]
Camille SAINT-SAËNS (1835-1921)
Symphony No. 3 in C minor (Organ) (1886) [34:47]
James O’Donnell (organ)
London Philharmonic Orchestra/Yannick Nézet-Séguin
rec. live, 26 March 2014, Royal Festival Hall, London
Reviewed as a 24/96 Studio Master from Qobuz
Pdf booklet and artwork included
LONDON PHILHARMONIC LPO-0081 [57:25]
I first encountered the French-Canadian conductor Yannick Nézet-Séguin
when he made his debut with the Berliner Philharmoniker in 2010. He gave
insightful and exhilarating performances of works by Messiaen, Prokofiev
and Berlioz that couldn’t fail to impress. Alas, his subsequent
Rotterdam Philharmonic recordings of the
Symphonie fantastique and
Ein Heldenleben (BIS) weren’t in the same league and
made me wonder if I’d misjudged this young maestro. Then in March
2014 I chanced upon the BBC Radio 3 broadcast of this Poulenc/Saint-Saëns
concert and revised my opinion yet again.
The prospect of hearing this coupling in uncompressed sound was very enticing
indeed, not least because I’d get to hear the newly refurbished
RFH organ in all its splendour. The Poulenc concerto, which I came to
know via the classic Simon Preston/André Previn account (Warner-EMI),
is delivered here with a bright spikiness that took my breath away. This
recording is a pretty fair representation of the Festival Hall’s
clean, dry acoustic, and while the organ has never been known for its
low-end punch it’s in full, confident voice throughout.
The throat-grabbing start to the Andante and the restless timp
figures that follow are superbly projected, and the LPO play with a mixture
of pliancy and bite that I haven’t heard from them in ages. Balances
are good and the all-important timps are commendably taut and powerful.
Goodness, this is an edgy, exciting performance; the Allegro giocoso
is characterised by gut-gouging string playing and the Andante moderato
finds O’Donnell at his most persuasive and pellucid. The depth and
range of colour picked up by this fine recording is simply marvellous.
Nézet-Séguin brings out all the contrasts in this bipolar score with a
confidence and flair that one normally associates with conductors of far
greater experience. His grip is tight but never throttling and he’s
fortunate to have at his fingertips a band that responds with alacrity
to his every demand. The short Tempo Allegro, molto agitato is
as gnarly as I’ve ever heard it, and that dialogue between organ
and timps is as combative as it gets. Contrast that with the melting strings
in the Très calme: Lent and the skipping figures in the last
section and you have the full measure of this piece and the combined skills
of its executors. There’s no applause after the work’s arresting
sign-off, although I did insert a few ‘huzzahs’ of my own.
As much as I relished the thought of hearing the concerto again Nézet-Séguin’s
airily propulsive account of the symphony was the main attraction for
me. The opening Adagio – Allegro moderato has
the same clarity and sense of purpose that defines the Poulenc, yet the
music never sounds brittle or rhetorical. The fairly close recording zeroes
in on the score’s tiniest details and the conductor shapes and guides
it all with considerable elan. Those quiet pizzicato strings
and the noble organ’s first entry are exquisite; as for the LPO
they play with enviable poise and point.
So often this symphony is filled with more hot air than a Montgolfier
balloon, yet here it’s blessed with just the right degree of buoyancy.
Thankfully the organ isn't too dominant; indeed, O’Donnell’s
judicious control of dynamics has a lot to do with the aerated, hear-through
feel of this performance. Meanwhile Nézet-Séguin coaxes telling, rarely
discernible colours from his attentive players. The Allegro moderato
– Presto is cleanly articulated and the piano is easily heard.
Phrasing may seem a tad precipitous at times and one might wish for a
bit more warmth to the overall sound, but that’s more than compensated
for by the many pleasures presented here.
The latter part of the symphony is apt to dissemble, and while Nézet-Séguin
doesn’t entirely avoid those pitfalls he does minimise them. The
organ’s magisterial return is nicely scaled and the tramping finale
is tastefully done. The cymbals are well caught – no distracting
spit or spotlighting – and, as paradoxical as it may seem in this
context, the work moves towards a thrillingly proportionate and colourful
close. No grandstanding, just a thoroughly musical apotheosis. Now there
is applause, and it’s well deserved. What a pity that someone
in the audience yelps so loudly a nanosecond after the music has ended;
alas, it's a tiresome but all too prevalent practice these days. The very
readable liner-notes, which include details of the organ refurb, complete
a most desirable issue.
Nézet-Séguin rescues an old warhorse from the knacker’s yard; his
bracing account of the Poulenc concerto is a substantial bonus.
Dan Morgan
twitter.com/mahlerei
Masterwork Index: Saint-Saëns
symphony 3
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