From Liszt and Alkan – both infamous for their complex, rhapsodic
ingenuity – one would expect a rather bombastic affair. In fact we are
treated to soberingly elemental sounds under the deft musicianship of
Bertrand and Amoyel. These late works by Liszt and Alkan's sonorous
sonata unveil a more spiritually contemplative face. They reflect the sort
of purified expression, innermost lyricism and reticence generally favoured
for such mystical chamber music experimentation. This is coupled with a
tendency to counter the tendency towards cliché-ed entertainment music with
a heady smack of eloquence and ornamentation.
With an admixture of technical precision, brio and steady resonance,
French cellist Bertrand leaves us awash in colour and texture, ranging from
Berlioz-like fortitude in Alkan's
Sonate to Debussy-like
transparency in Liszt's
Troisième Elegie. His style fits
comfortably with Amoyel's improvisational spark and attentive
backdrop. As a duo, Bertrand and Amoyel have also recorded Bloch, Strauss,
Grieg, Saint-Saens and Olivier Greif together.
Producing three effusive and complex themes, the first movement of
Alkan's
Sonate de concert distils variety and ambiguity into
a concentrated tonic of musical exposition. Like Beethoven's late
string quartets it unravels each intertwined idea through modulation and
development. The maturity in this piece can be evinced through its symphonic
scope and the move away from the 'style brillant' of salon
music. Bertrand caps the second movement by trawling the depths of the
cello's C string and by tenaciously exploring the instrument's
earthy underbelly. Contrasting with the crisp veracity and almost
melodramatic fullness of the third movement there are moments of quietude
and contemplation in an otherwise rambunctious yet exquisitely mystical
work. The end of the third movement is particularly radiant and is lit by
Amoyel's tone which is simultaneously limpid and lyrical. For the
most part he successfully tames the Alkan spirit so as to complement rather
than clash with the rather more tender cello tones.
Liszt's Première, Deuxième and Troisième Elégies, composed in 1874,
1877 and 1883 respectively, are fragments of dejection and ebullience varied
by the phantom light of despair. Aglow with the diaphanous and the
ephemeral, the pizzicato section of the
Première Elégie (originally
entitled 'lullaby in the grave' in memory of Countess
Nesselrode) coincides exquisitely with the resplendent luminosity of the
main theme. To quote S. T. Coleridge:-
Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
And sent my soul abroad,
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! (‘Dejection an
Ode’)
Dedicated to Lina Ramann (a biographer of Liszt and piano teacher) in
gratitude for a favourable article she penned, the
Deuxième Elégie
is flowery and effervescent. Through determined precision and direction this
duo strip away Liszt's frivolity to produce a neatly trimmed whole.
Undoubtedly, the most arresting piece is
La lugubre gondole —
otherwise known as the
Troisième Elégie. Played with exactitude and
conveying a concentrated strand of anguish and languor, this Wagnerian piece
is utterly transfixing. Originally composed for piano in 1882, Liszt
promptly made this sombre arrangement in the following year. Reminiscent of
Wagner's unending melodies and unresolved sevenths, this piece
recalls the prelude to
Tristan und Isolde as it steadily develops
into an irresistibly unremitting romanticism. Bertrand's performances
of Liszt's
Romance oubliée and
Die Zelle in
Nonnenwerth bemoan nostalgia and solitude whilst allowing scope for a
sense of a journey's progression and chivalric legend. Flowing
melodies are supported by Amoyel's unwavering constancy in this
carefully meditated recording.
Though the piano sometimes seems a little too forward in the Alkan, this
recording is generally of a high quality. Ultimately, this is a refreshing
collection where the virtuosity of composers and performers is met with
disarming humility. Another recording of the Liszt pieces which is well
worth listening to is that by Stephen Isserlis and Stephen Hough: 1995,
Forgotten Romance, RCA 09026 68290 2. This earlier recording also
contains sonatas by Rubinstein and Grieg.
Lucy Jeffery
