This is pleasing, pleasant
music of graceful charm and infectious
innocence, instantly enveloping the
listener in a sensuous, romantic, loveable
and loving world. Gaubert's style encompasses
a wide emotional range, and the harmonic
deviations are worthy of Franck and
Ravel, his more obvious models.
This programme, well
ordered on this attractively arranged
disc, is performed with outstanding
flute tone - a rich vibrato in the lower
register with an ideal intensity where
required, even more impressive in the
magically light, delicate upper register
in softer dynamics: exquisite playing
of exquisite music. The piano playing
matches and integrates to perfection
(although the pedalling action is occasionally
too closely recorded and the bass at
times booms a little). Frequently the
flute playing reminds one of some of
the finest singing, with refined starts
and ends to phrases displaying a complete
range of dynamics from absolutely nothing
to full and down again with no compromise
in quality or attack - simply some of
the finest flute playing I've heard.
In the opening Madrigal,
probably the most well-known of these
pieces, we hear ideal technical control
in a truly involved performance: instantly
setting a style and standard for the
rest of the disc. The other work presented
here for just flute and piano is the
concluding four-movement Suite, featuring
the influence of Fauré (Dolly
Suite?) in the Barcarolle, and the Paris
Exhibition which brought exotic Far
Eastern and Slavic influences to French
composition, in this case noticeably
in the whole-tone laden Berceuse orientale
which owes not a little to Debussy.
The priestesses of the first movement
might well heed the reverential approach
of this finely delivered Invocation,
and the work and disc are superbly concluded
with a virtuosic but tasteful and delicate
account of the Scherzo-valse featuring
admirable clarity in double-tonguing
and all manner of articulation, with
nimble fingering from both players:
the quasi-Spanish cross-rhythms are
delivered with sparkling freshness.
Fenwick Smith's colleagues
are equally accomplished and distinguished.
In the Three Aquarelles, the cellist
produces a lighter and less richly sonorous
tone than a full-bodied soloist, but
this suits the music and the ensemble
colour just so. There is an easy, natural
fluency to the arabesque writing, and
the ensemble's rubato never sounds contrived
but always judged instinctively and
idiomatically: the music is created
for the listener by the flexible and
sensitive interaction of this accomplished,
alert group. Especially in the Soir
d'automne we are treated to russet-toned
cello phrases and the browning piano
chordings, consistently well-matched
in colour and always balanced sensitively
at all dynamic levels. The final Serenade
has an occasional slavonic hint in the
brisk melodic ornamentations (the sleeve-note
suggests Middle Eastern?). These players
combine again in the Piece romantique,
whose rich harmonic chords remind one
at times of Faure (Elegie), Saint-Saens
(The Swan), and even Messiaen (Quartet).
The cello is never masked by the piano,
thanks partly to sensible writing and
mostly to sensitive playing: there is
a particularly effective passage where
the low cello doubles the equally deep
piano, and several places where all
the instruments explore register contrasts
to maximum effect, yet retain clarity
and cohesion through alert responses.
Taking second flute
to the principal flute of the Boston
SO, who plays on a wooden Parisian flute
of almost 100 years' age, Smith also
adopts a wooden instrument; their perfectly
matched tones over the accompanying
harp make for a refreshing and distinctive
exploration of the expressive use of
human breath. Some of the intakes are
quite audible but the speed with which
the sound is re-established makes one
wonder at times if there was actually
any gap in the melodic line, so disguised
are these moments within the expressive
contours. Hugely impressive technique,
perfectly matched in style.
Equally at home in
this style are the floating soprano,
equally adept at subtle yet adventurous
variation of vibrato to musical purpose,
and the oboist in the Tarantelle, a
work reminiscent of Saint-Saens' similar
piece also for two winds and piano:
skittish, typical of the genre, with
a slower middle tune almost destined
to be labelled salon-style, but for
the refreshing turns of phrases at the
last moment and the effectively unexpected
harmonic underlay.
The violinist features
fluently in the Medailles antiques,
a rather different style starting with
almost pointillist writing of melodic
snatches, evocatively imaging splashing
water, and, later, the sensuous nymphs
are "captured" in lyrical lines of languour
and fine-spun gossamer. The last few
seconds of this movement are disturbingly
mysterious, almost menacing, but link
perfectly to the slightly hispanic Danses
with their earthy vigour and exotic
swish.
I cannot imagine more
satisfying performances of these convincing
miniature delights: refined chamber
playing which retains a fresh spontaneity,
yet observes the printed details and
expressive nuances accurately and whole-heartedly.
This is some of the most enjoyable flute
playing you could hear - artistry of
a high order, thoroughly skilful in
technique, and imaginative in use of
this superb resource to produce melting
moments and strong passages of quite
opposite character and colour. I must
get disc 2!
Colin Touchin
Fenwick Smith and Jacques Zoon, fl., Sally Pinkas,
pf., Jayne West, sop., Andrew Pearce, vc., Ann
Hobson Pilot, hp., John Ferrillo, ob., Malcolm
Lowe, vn. 