Pelléas 
                et Mélisande has fared variably on record. Whether pushed 
                to the extremity of post-Wagnerian lushness by Karajan in 1988, 
                anatomised with a clinician’s eye by Boulez or conducted with 
                authentic French clarity by Desormière nearly half a century 
                earlier, one can experience some polarised interpretations. Few 
                however have the stature and authority of Ansermet’s two recordings 
                – he never lived to conduct the third he hoped to make - one dating 
                from 1951 and this Decca from 1964. There is a great deal to say 
                – about his astuteness with regard to string weight, his complex 
                understanding of character, his infallible sense of theatrical 
                moment, his acute unfolding of colour in this score – and also, 
                paradoxically, very little to say, so profoundly indivisible is 
                Ansermet’s conducting from Debussy’s textual and visual implications. 
                 
              
 
              
Camille 
                Maurane is Pelléas and was middle aged when he came to 
                record the role but you wouldn’t know it; the voice is excellently 
                preserved and employed with discretion and unerring distinction. 
                His Mélisande is Erna Spoorenberg. For Ansermet’s 1951 
                recording he had Pierre Mollet and Suzanne Danco but though distinguished 
                names they are certainly not superior to Maurane and Spoorenberg 
                – she is exceptionally adept and impressive. The equally strong 
                Golaud is George London who serves notice from his earliest appearance 
                and then mightily at the beginning of Act II Scene II – Ah! 
                Ah! Tout va bien, cela ne sera rien – of the eruptive presence 
                in one’s midst. Guus Hoekman is Arkel and his is an aristocratic 
                assumption without overstepping the bounds of the role – he never 
                forces through the tone and remains sympathetic throughout. There’s 
                an especially impressive performance from Rosine Brédy 
                whose Yniold is truly memorable – aptly youthful with a splendid 
                range. In the subsidiary roles we find two venerable British singers 
                in the earlier days of their careers- John Shirley-Quirk (The 
                Doctor – a tiny role) and Josephine Veasey as Geneviève, 
                maybe not quite as idiomatic as Jeannine Collard (for Cluytens 
                in 1957) but still good.  
              
 
              
The 
                orchestra was one of Europe’s more unpredictable ensembles, living 
                up to the lines "When they were good they were good, when 
                they were bad…" Here they are on excellent form; one only 
                has to listen to the way Ansermet encourages some lustrous string 
                tone in the Interlude between Scenes II and III in the First Act 
                to know that they were inspired by the event and were notably 
                well drilled as well. As a result the opera evolves with a pretty 
                perfect balance between technical excellence and expressive refinement. 
                For this of course most of the cachet belongs to Ansermet – though 
                cachet is a cheap word for so fluid and knowledgeable a conductor, 
                whose experience was plain for all to hear. The recording stands 
                the test of time; Decca used some reverberation in the Castle 
                scenes but otherwise the clarity, which is never coldness, is 
                appropriate for this most static and verbal of operas. The booklet 
                prints a synopsis in English, French, German and Italian – but 
                there is no libretto.  
              
 
              
Jonathan 
                Woolf