Naxos is currently recycling its back catalogue. Part
of an Arts and Music series – other discs include Monet and Leonardo
– this disc gathers together composers whose music supposedly illuminates
elements of Picasso’s creative life and sets it in some – dread word
– perspective. Hugh Griffith’s erudite sleeve note gives a précis
of Picasso’s life and its contextual associations with the composers
whose works comprise the disc. These are variously personal, creative
and tangential. Stravinsky was Picasso’s exact contemporary and the
bonds of creative and private friendship between the two have been long
explored; Picasso’s were the designs for Petrushka. Albeniz’s evocation
of Andalusia, Picasso’s native region, fuses well with the frequent
representation of the guitar in Picasso’s work. Satie’s dilettantish
presence is more questionable – and quixotic at best – whereas de Falla’s
Three Cornered Hat saw a creative collaboration between composer, Picasso
and Diaghilev (spelt Dyagilev in the notes by the way; I’m all for whimsical
transliteration but that’s plain silly). Poulenc’s presence is justified
– tangentially – as a member of the Cocteau demi-monde. Is it true,
as Hugh Griffith avers in his notes with a condescension tinged with
mockery, that Germaine Tailleferre, of Les Six, "went on to achieve
unparalleled and worldwide obscurity"? I didn’t think so.
As for the performances they are all serviceable and
one considerably more. Norbert Kraft’s is an evocative and fluent performance
of a guitar arrangement of Asturias (Albeniz never wrote for the guitar).
I’m rather less taken by Gonzalez’s Malaga – unhelpful acoustic, unconvincing
playing. Rahbari’s is a perfectly adequate Petrushka; Jean’s Three-Cornered
Hat Suite is involved, Sanderling’s Pulcinella bracing and crisp but
the best performances here are the Poulenc songs. Michel Piquemal and
Christine Lajarigge are exciting exponents of both cycles. He has a
wide range of colouration in Chanson d’Orkenise from Banalités,
the Apollinaire settings, and exhibits a well-rounded, well-sustained
high baritone throughout. He is also equipped with some actorly devices
necessary to communicate the songs to optimum effect. His conversational
lassitude in Hotel has a delightful plasticity of phrasing and
he employs his head voice as well as a boisterous profile to winning
effect in Voyage a Paris. In the greater challenge of the last
of the cycle, Sanglots, he fuses and shades his voice
with impressive characterisation. The darkening downward extension to
the voice in Bonne journee, the first of the Paul Eluard cycle,
Tel jour telle nuit, is impressively matched by Christine Lajarigge’s
playing. There’s seriousness, understanding and achievement in these
two musician’s performances. A bit of a ragbag collection then but it
might make a change to listen to the CD at this summer’s (July 2002)
Matisse Picasso exhibition at Tate Modern rather than listen
to those acoustic guides so beloved of contemporary galleries which
instruct you with such knowledgeable insistence just what to think.
Jonathan Woolf