Ninon Vallin was probably
the most widely recorded of all pre-War
French sopranos. No matter whether in
passionate declamation or coquettish
insinuation she was something of a marvel
and she remained in good technical form,
her breath sustained and technically
admirable, with that rolled "r" of hers
so characteristically Parisian. Added
to this was a certain insouciant command
and in terms of the quality of the voice
– as distinct from characterful style
- there was something of a mezzo quality
to the lower register that gave her
considerable vocal mobility. But the
abiding impression is one of style and
charm supported by knowing characterisation.
Whilst VAI and Pearl
have issued single discs devoted to
her – and a number of her complete operatic
recordings, Louise and Werther amongst
them, are now available – one of the
most recommendable slices of her art
is contained in Marston’s two CD set
of her complete Pathé-Art recordings,
made in Paris between 1927 and 1929.
I would direct readers there for comprehensively
enjoyable results. Malibran include
a couple of Pathé sides but concentrate,
more than usefully, on her Odeon recordings
– a disparate bunch that takes in Berlioz
and Kern alike.
In her first items,
the Hahn settings, we can immediately
hear that mezzo-like depth and the immediacy
of her expressive shading of the text
(especially fine, one by Hugo, the other
Verlaine). The quiet and concentrated
rapture of L’heure exquise is outstanding,
supported as it is by darkening colours
and acute characterisation. Technically
she shows bright, forward sounding consonants
in Berlioz’s Villanelle and shows an
aristocratically elegiac quality in
her Gounod (albeit the piano is set
too far back so its rippling accompaniment
is not as immediate as it might be).
She sings old favourites, what Louis
Armstrong called the Good Old Good Ones
– Leroux, Godard’s Berceuse de Jocelyn,
a vocalised Fauré Dolly, a lurid
Brahms Waltz and a Chopin monstrosity.
And no, she really hasn’t quite the
voice for Rachmaninov but she certainly
does for the conversational intimacies
of Dalcroze. Vallin accompanied by the
Hawaiian guitar wouldn’t necessarily
make my Desert Island cut – it’s the
Francophone Jerome Kern arrangement
– but it goes to show that crossover
wasn’t a syndrome discovered in 1987.
The copies used are
good ones and minimal intervention sounds
to have been employed. So we have an
entertaining and diverse collection,
sporting chanson and some slapstick
– though rather more of the former than
the latter. And who wouldn’t want to
hear a little slapstick now and again
– especially when Vallin does it so
well and so enjoyably.
Jonathan Woolf