Maurice Ravel (1875–1937)
Piano Concerto in G (1932)
Don Quichotte à Dulcinée (1933)
Deux mélodies hébraïques (1914)
Pavane pour une infante défunte (1899)
Trois poèmes de Stéphane Mallarmé (1913)
Piano Concerto for the Left Hand (1930)
Sainte (1896)
Cédric Tiberghien (piano)
Stéphane Degout (baritone)
Les Siècles/François-Xavier Roth
rec. 2020/21, Grand salle Pierre Boulez (concertos), Le Studio (mélodies and Pavane), Philharmonie de Paris, France
HARMONIA MUNDI HMM902612 [74]
This is, I think, the fourth disc devoted to music by Ravel from François-Xavier Roth and Les Siècles. I liked very much their recording of Daphnis et Chloé (review) and also a disc which included Ma mère l’Oye, which we don’t seem to have reviewed (HMM 905281). We should also not forget that La Valse featured on a CD which was otherwise occupied by Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition; and since the Mussorgsky was played in Ravel’s superb orchestration, that disc definitely counts towards their Ravel tally (review). Actually, it could fairly be argued that on this latest release Roth and his orchestra must yield pride of place to pianist Cédric Tiberghien, since he plays on every track.
It was a jolly good idea to bookend this collection (more or less) with the two piano concertos and to place in between them a number of songs and a piano solo; that makes for a nicely varied and balanced programme. Furthermore, the songs have been shrewdly chosen: they cover quite a wide span of time in Ravel’s career and the various groups are all very different from each other. A little while ago I admired very much Stéphane Degout’s account of Berlioz’s
Les Nuits d’été on an earlier Roth disc (review). He’s on equally fine form here and his partnership with Tiberghien works well. In the Don Quichotte à Dulcinée set, Degout spins an elegant, suave line in ‘Chanson romanesque’ while Tiberghien projects the sharply profiled piano part very successfully. Just as good is ‘Chanson épique’: here, Degout conveys an air of faded nobility and sincerity. This is a very fine account of these three songs.
In ‘Kaddish’, the first of the Deux mélodies hébraïques, Degout’s singing is deeply expressive. His tone is super, as is his sense of line. This is a marvellous bit of singing. I have to admit I find it much harder to get on the wavelength of the
Trois poèmes de Stéphane Mallarmé. That’s largely because I find that the imagery in the poems is so elusive. However, there’s no doubt as to the excellence of either the singing or the pianism. Degout’s topmost notes are wonderfully produced but, then, the production throughout the whole of his vocal compass is excellent.
Sainte is a very different kettle of fish. For one thing the poem is much more straightforward, as is the music. Indeed, the notes quote Mallarmé’s comment that his poem was ‘A melodious little poem, written more especially with music in mind’. The young Ravel clothed these verses in equally melodious music. It was intelligent to place this song right at the end of the disc, separated from the 1913 Mallarmé settings; proximity would have jarred.
Right in the middle of the programme Cédric Tiberghien offers us another early work, Pavane pour une infante défunte in its original piano version. The notes remind us that Ravel was very critical of this little student piece later in his life – and other musicians also found fault with it. However, that didn’t stop Ravel from orchestrating the piece in 1910. (In passing, I recall that as late as 1929 Ravel returned to an even earlier piece, Menuet antique (1895) and orchestrated that.) Ravel’s subsequent disparagement of the Pavane hasn’t prevented musicians and audiences from taking the piece to their hearts. Here, Tiberghien plays the piece with elegance and dignity, bringing out the gently melancholic poetry in the music.
In his booklet essay Jean-François Monnard points out that Ravel conceived his two piano concertos at the same time. Rather surprisingly, since it must have presented compositional challenges, work on the Left Hand Concerto proceeded more smoothly and it was finished first. By contrast, work on the G major concerto was a stop-start affair and yet I don’t think a listener hearing it without that knowledge would register the fact, so fluent does the composition seem.
For the concertos and, indeed, throughout the disc, Cédric Tiberghien plays on a “Grand patron” Pleyel piano dating from 1892. Prior to listening, I wondered if the instrument might have a shallow or “tinkling” tone. Those fears were groundless: the Pleyel may not have quite the depth of tone or bass richness compared with a modern Steinway, but it produces a very satisfying sound. Furthermore, and crucially in the context of this project, it can easily hold its own against the period instruments of Les Siècles and it complements their sound very well indeed.
The first movement of the G major concerto has all the spirit and vitality you could wish for. Rhythms are tightly sprung and the playing of both the soloist and the instrumentalists is deliciously pointed. And, as is always the case with Les Siècles, the timbres of period instruments bring their own rewards. For example, the soft harp-dominated episode (4:27 – 5:09) is simply bewitching. Throughout the concerto lots of inner detail is revealed. One such instance comes in the first movement where I don’t think I’ve ever heard the discreet rising wind figures under the solo horn line register so clearly (around 5:30). Tiberghien’s playing is marvellous and when he gets to the passage where the piano plays the second subject in trills (6:12), his trills are really seamless.
The Adagio assai is built around the long melody that we hear right at the start, played as a piano solo. The description of this theme in the notes – “a chaste melody grazed ever so gently by dissonant tensions” – is ideally expressed. Tiberghien plays the solo beautifully, shaping and shading the melody most perceptively. That sets the tone for an exquisitely poised reading of the whole movement. When Ravel brings back the melody, giving it this time to the cor anglais with filigree piano decoration, it’s a magical passage. Here, the cor anglais playing of Stéphane Morvan is very eloquent. The zany finale is delivered with great panache; it sounds as if everyone is having terrific fun, but precision is never sacrificed.
What a contrast the Piano Concerto for the Left Hand presents. Right at the start, there’s considerable clarity to the subterranean rumblings in the lowest reaches of the orchestra. Some may feel that a degree of mystery is sacrificed but I welcome the definition, and I love the fruity contrabassoon solo – take a bow, Jérémie Da Conceição. Though the period instruments may lack some of the tonal weight of modern instruments, I don’t feel there’s any lack of amplitude as Roth builds the first great climax, prior to the piano’s first entry. Tiberghien’s first foray into the work is imposing and he delivers his initial extended solo passage with weight and rhetorical authority: not for the last time in the work it’s hard to understand at times that he’s playing with only one hand. When the music moves into a quicker tempo (from 8:24), the playing has real snap – and you can hear lots of what is going on within the orchestra. Roth and his orchestra achieve real grandeur at what turns out to be the work’s last full climax (13:15) before Tiberghien’s final big solo. This extended passage is cadenza-like and calls for great virtuosity. I think Tiberghien’s playing hereabouts has great imagination as well as virtuosity. After all this almost Lisztian pianism, Roth and the orchestra quickly ring down the curtain on an excellent account of this concerto.
This is a very successful disc indeed. I like very much the variety in the programme, and without exception the performances are top-notch. Both Cédric Tiberghien and Stéphane Degout perform with flair and distinction. As for Les Siècles and François-Xavier Roth, their contribution is excellent – and not just because the orchestra plays on French instruments of the period. However, the fact that they do use instruments which produce timbres to which Ravel would have been completely accustomed adds spice and authenticity to the performances.
Harmonia Mundi have recorded the performances expertly and the documentation is first class.
This is a disc for lovers of Ravel’s music to savour and delight in.
John Quinn
Previous review: Néstor Castiglione
