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Some valuable historic
material is returned to the catalogue
here in the form of Jean Fournet’s wartime
recordings of The Damnation of Faust
and the Requiem. The considerable advantage
is that the transfers are generally
first class and the documentation is
more than adequate. In addition we have
a recent interview with the hero of
this 3 CD collection, Fournet himself,
who reminisces about his career (in
French obviously) with understated charm.
The undertaking was
considerable, given the circumstances
of the occupation and the relative scarcity
of good quality shellac, much less the
will to record. Nevertheless these two
big projects went ahead under Fournet
(b. 1913) then still only in his early
thirties. He had been a flautist in
his youth, a student of Gaubert at the
Paris Conservatoire, but soon moved
to a career as a conductor. He was associated
with the Paris Radio Orchestra – the
Orchestre de la Radiodiffusion française
in other words – as well subsequently
as the Opéra-Comique and prestigious
guest spots with the Concertgebouw,
Rotterdam Philharmonic as well as in
Chicago (the Lyric Opera) and in Buenos
Aires’ Teatro Colón. He remained
one of the most authoritative exponents
of the French repertoire of his generation
and it’s arguable, despite the existence
of his many subsequent recordings (many
superb) whether he ever did anything
as overwhelmingly important as these
first complete performances of two towering
Berlioz masterpieces. Certainly David
Hall in the Record Book called
them the most significant recordings
made anywhere during the War. Whatever
the truth of that the fact remains that
they were impressive documents and we
should be grateful to Malibran for returning
them in tandem in this way because they
act as an apt salute to Fournet’s pioneering
zest.
The Requiem receives
a recording of some spiritual depth.
When one listens to French choral records
of this period and earlier they tend
to reflect the liabilities of the choirs
rather more than do, say, Italian or
British choirs. But this isn’t the case
at all here because the Passani choir
is a notably well-drilled and effective
one and the only disappointment is not
their contribution but the exigencies
of recording in l’Eglise Saint-Eustache.
The recording engineers clearly tried
to compensate for the big acoustic by
trying for optimum clarity in the mike
placements and they must have gone in
too close to the choir. The result is
that whilst there is a wealth of orchestral
detail (though not always – see below)
the microphone also picks up exposed
choral voices, which can be rather disconcerting,
especially as the choir doesn’t sound
to be that big. The sopranos have a
high, pure elegance and the men are
attractively lyrical; the blend, apart
from the isolated voices, is otherwise
good, the discipline fine. The solemn
tread of the Requiem and Kyrie is tremendously
atmospheric and in the Sanctus tenor
Georges Jouatte impresses with his fine
ring at the top. He has a relatively
light voice, typically French, usefully
and musically deployed here. As for
the recording of the orchestra, it does
tend to flatten some detail, inevitably
perhaps, though it does catch the antiphonal
brass passages in the Dies Irae very
well (later on detail is not always
so well etched).
Along with this prestige
recording Fournet had also set down
the Damnation of Faust the previous
year. Jouatte is here again, as elegant
and stylish as he was to be in the Requiem,
and he’s partnered by the unpredictable
and if the notes are anything to go
by somewhat caustic Mona Laurena. Méphisto
is Paul Cabanel, a singer of flexible
lightness of timbre and sure operatic
instincts in this of all insinuating
characterisations. Laurena has a firm
lyric soprano, occasionally a little
untidy, but forceful in matters of impersonation
and making a rewarding partnership with
Jouatte. The choir once again proves
itself to be an excellently drilled,
small body and the problems of mike
placements are not so noticeable here.
The orchestra is lithe though occasionally,
if one’s super-critical, could do with
a degree more incisiveness. It’s a matter
of little account however when Fournet
marshals things with such idiomatic
expertise.
The booklet is full
of interesting period photos and some
background information (though, medically
speaking, the English translation needs
a transplant) and the box set stands
as a fitting tribute to Fournet’s significant
wartime achievement.
Jonathan Woolf
Georges Jouatte (tenor) 