César Franck is one of those composers 
                  whose music you either adore or detest. One reason perhaps is 
                  that he wore his Roman Catholicism on his sleeve; at any rate, 
                  as a fellow-papist I belong firmly in the first camp. The Six 
                  Pieces (1862), Three Pieces (1878) and the Three 
                  Chorals (1890) constitute César Franck’s greatest 
                  and most abiding organ works. I have heard most of them many 
                  times (and indeed played some myself more than once), but always 
                  as isolated pieces. Of course, one has long known that Franck 
                  was the single most influential organ composer of the 19th century; 
                  but to hear these pieces played as a continuous whole has proved 
                  a revelation. It can truthfully be said that every facet of 
                  the organ music of his successors – from Widor through to Vierne, 
                  Tournemire, Dupré, Messiaen and a host of others – can 
                  trace its roots to this music. 
                
                Early on in his career Franck became acquainted 
                  with the organs which Aristide Cavaillé-Coll was building, 
                  which were to exert a profound influence on Franck’s style of 
                  composition. His designs rejected the baroque model in favour 
                  of a more expressive and ‘romantic’ instrument, of which a new, 
                  highly sensitive swell mechanism, his deployment of the voix 
                  celestes and voix humaine stops and a distinctive 
                  character he imparted to swell reeds were the most significant 
                  features. They also came much nearer to the warmth and richness 
                  of diapason tone to which English ears are accustomed. In 1858 
                  Franck became organist at Saint-Clotilde in Paris (a post he 
                  retained until the last year of his life) and it was there that 
                  in 1859 Cavaillé-Coll installed one of his most celebrated 
                  instruments.
                
                For this collection Jean-Pierre Lecaudey has 
                  turned to another of Cavaillé-Coll’s instruments – that 
                  in the Abbey Church of Rouen, a four-manual organ built in 1890 
                  and apparently unaltered to this today. It is a very different 
                  instrument from those used in his other two recitals reviewed 
                  elsewhere. Once again Lecaudey shows that he is one of today’s 
                  most brilliant organists, a master of the music of many periods 
                  and possessed of a formidable technique. His programme-note 
                  also reveals the profound veneration in which he holds Franck. 
                  From the opening notes of the Fantasia in C and throughout 
                  he revels in the effects which the remarkably expressive swell-pedal 
                  permit and which are part and parcel of Franck’s organ-language.
                
                To be honest, the Fantasia in C is a 
                  mite dull, but the Grande Pièce Symphonique most 
                  certainly isn’t – a large-scale work of symphonic proportions 
                  lasting over 25 minutes, with many dramatic eruptions alternating 
                  with reflective, even devout interludes, and featuring the composer’s 
                  favourite ‘terracing’ of sound-layers. Structurally, it also 
                  displays Franck’s ability to merge disparate thematic elements 
                  into a satisfying whole and develop a towering climax (sample 
                  1).
                
                The three relatively ‘lighter’ pieces which 
                  follow reveal many felicitous touches (for instance, the cool 
                  Variation [sample 2] and the crisply-articulated 
                  and judiciously-registered Quasi Allegretto of the Pastorale 
                  [track 14]). The Final is a masterpiece: it is based 
                  entirely on a seemingly-innocuous five-note phrase which is 
                  subjected to an endlessly imaginative series of mutations. Typically 
                  ferocious French reeds dominate the movement (sample 3) 
                  in which Lecaudey again deploys the swell-pedal to particularly 
                  vivid effect and in which he does full justice to its overwhelming 
                  climax.
                
                Throughout the second disc Franck’s distinctive 
                  inspiration and Lecaudey’s faithful response are equally in 
                  evidence. If you are by now persuaded of these, then there’s 
                  no need to go into further detail: if not, it’s your loss, not 
                  mine! Suffice to say that the Three Chorals (completed 
                  in Franck’s dying months) conclude a thoroughly absorbing programme 
                  in magnificent style.
                
                As with all his discs Lecaudey writes his own 
                  programme-notes. These are highly informative – easily defying 
                  the handicap of incompetent translations. He is again well served 
                  by his producers – the sound is spacious yet immediate, bright 
                  and natural. I cannot recommend these discs too highly.
                
                Adrian Smith