This is quite a useful
collection of Berlioz pieces, not least
because it doesn’t just tread the familiar
paths but includes on Disc One a couple
of comparative rarities. In a way it’s
a pity that the recording of the Symphonie
funèbre et triomphale is,
by some distance, the oldest included
here since this work, with its massive
sonorities, is one that benefits especially
from modern recording techniques. So
this 1958 recording doesn’t have anything
like the richness and depth of Sir Colin
Davis’s Philips 1969 account (Philips),
still less the digital splendour of
the recording made for Decca in the
mid-1980s by Charles Dutoit in Montreal.
What it does have, however, is that
recognisably piquant French wind tone
and an equally Gallic tone in the brass.
So, for example, the awesome chords
that introduce the second movement,
‘Oration funèbre’ have nowhere
near the majesty and depth that either
of the other two recordings demonstrate
(Davis in particular) but they do have
a certain stridency that I find not
unappealing. Much less appealing, however,
is the euphonium-like tone of the unnamed
trombonist in this movement. Here the
redoubtable Dennis Wick (Davis) is peerless.
The concluding movement, ‘Apothéose’
is tremendously jaunty and I rather
enjoyed it, though I must say I prefer
the greater weight and breadth that
Davis, at a slightly slower tempo, imparts.
I don’t think Désiré Dondeyne
employs the optional string parts in
this movement. – they’d probably be
inaudible if he did – but the choir
that he uses makes a useful contribution.
They may not be the subtlest choir one
has heard but on this occasion that
doesn’t matter. They sing with fervour
and strike me as sounding truly like
un chœur des citoyens.
The remainder of the
programme is of more recent vintage.
The overtures receive good performances
although I felt that the account of
Les Francs-Juges, while good,
lacked the last ounce of gothic menace.
On the other hand the performance of
Le Carnaval romain is
lively, with the carnival gaiety nicely
conveyed. In the last analysis none
of these performances posts a serious
challenge to the likes of Sir Colin
Davis or Charles Munch but they give
pleasure.
The presentation of
the excerpts from Les Troyens
is something of a tangle. In the heading
to this review I’ve replicated the track
listings but in fact these are incorrect.
The performances of Chasse royale
et orage lasts only 9’42".
Then, after a gap of six seconds, but
on the same track, comes the first part
of the Ballet from Act 4, scene 2 of
the opera, Dance of the Egyptian
Dancing Girls. What’s described
in the listing as ‘Ballet’ (track 6)
is, in fact, the second dance in the
ballet, Dance of Slaves. The
third part of the ballet, the short
Dance of the Nubian Slaves, is
omitted, probably and understandably
because it needs a chorus. As to the
performances, the opening of Chasse
royale et orage is a bit prosaic.
I don’t feel that the sultry, languorous
pre-storm landscape is really suggested
here. However later on there’s a fine
horn solo and echo – and the solo horn
also distinguishes him- or herself at
the very end. The storm itself is exciting.
The dances are well done.
To complete the set
we are given a work of Berlioz that
is relatively unfamiliar. This is La
Mort de Cléopâtre,
a solo cantata, which was his (unsuccessful)
entry for the Prix de Rome contest in
1829. It’s easy to see why Berlioz didn’t
win the favour of the judges for in
those days the contest for the Prix
de Rome was hidebound by convention
and Berlioz’s piece is anything but
conventional. It may not be one of his
masterpieces but it’s an original, dramatic
and characteristically individual offering.
It’s persuasively and expressively sung
here by Nadine Denize, a singer who
I don’t recall hearing before. She has
a full-toned voice with a nice amount
of richness in its lower register though
I thought I detected a touch of stridency
and unsteadiness of pitch on the very
highest notes. She’s particularly impressive
in the gravity and dignity with which
she invests the dark passage in the
Méditation section, beginning
at ‘Grands Pharaons’ (CD 1, track 4,
11’58"). This episode is well prepared
by Gilbert Amy and his orchestra, typifying
the very good support they provide for
the soloist. Though I shan’t lightly
part from the inimitable Janet Baker
in this work (with Colin Davis) I admired
and enjoyed this alternative account
and it’s good to hear what I presume
is a native French-speaker.
The sound quality on
the 1980 recordings is good without
being anything special. The earlier
recording of the Symphonie funèbre
et triomphale perhaps inevitably
shows its age a bit more but it’s quite
acceptable. The documentation consists
of a note that is so brief as to be
of limited use. However, the French
texts for both the symphony and the
cantata are provided along with English
translations. Praise be!
This is a useful and
enjoyable Berlioz collection. If you
don’t have some of these works in your
collection or wish to explore some of
the French master’s less frequently
heard works this is a good and inexpensive
anthology.
John Quinn
Chorale Populaire de Paris 
