Though Marc Grauwels’
notes speak exclusively of the French
flute tradition – he is also the intrepid
soloist in this entertaining disc –
Moscheles’ and Donizetti’s works were
conscripted, as it were, to that tradition.
That in itself is hardly surprising
as the French woodwind tradition was
then pre-eminent and was to remain so
until Fauré and Ravel’s time.
For all that the tradition encompassed
unrivalled depth of expression it also
encompassed roulades of technical brilliance,
showpieces, operatic paraphrases, test
pieces, morceaux and conservatoire test
pieces. It also embraced the concertante
form and we have some prime examples
here if not quite the claimed concertos.
Donizetti’s contribution
is the earliest, a ten-minute Concertino
of great charm and Beethovenian inheritance,
and which, whilst not being especially
memorable melodically, keeps a fine
balance between the dictates of solo
and tutti separation. Moscheles is back
in business discographically and his
Piano Concertos are making themselves
known once again as more than of merely
antiquarian interest. In truth he’s
never entirely left the catalogues but
it’s still a pleasure to encounter such
skilful, crafted and sensitive music.
His Concertante is written for flue,
oboe and orchestra and has a fine ear
for the registral differences of the
two solo instruments and for sweeping
characterisation. At thirteen minutes
it doesn’t outstay its welcome – indeed
its elegance and grandeur and the interplay
between soloists (fluttering articulation
and witty imitative writing) are a sheer
delight. Saint-Saëns gives us a
pert and convincing Tarantelle, his
Op.6 incidentally, full of chirpy unison
writing for the flute and clarinet soloist
- as before Marc Grauwels is here joined
by another fine soloist – and a splash
of the military. Fauré’s quartet
of works are in orchestrations by Yoav
Talmi and they work well enough – the
Fantasie is the most consistently attractive
in this guise and receives a commensurately
winning performance. After the Ravel
we end with a flourish – a big brass
bandy La merle blanc by Eugène
Damaré and it certainly makes
a suitably effective contrast, with
Grauwels putting his piccolo to the
test – and winning. But I’ve left the
best to last, an exquisitely beautiful
Pan et les oiseaux by Jules Mouquet
– there is a version for flute and piano
as well. Bathed in Virgilian waters,
languorous and deep, this is suffused
in sunlight and coiling twists of meadow
grass, a gorgeous and captivating piece,
no more than seven minutes long. As
they used to say in the old days, it’s
worth the price of admission on its
own. Excellent performances add to the
very real charm of this disc.
Jonathan Woolf
Marc Grauwels (flute and piccolo)