Hector BERLIOZ (1803-1869)
L'Enfance du Christ (1853-55) [100:52]
Jean Rigby (mezzo) - La Vièrge Marie
Alastair Miles (bass) - Hérode
Gerald Finley (baritone) - Joseph
John Aler (tenor) - Le Récitant
Gwynne Howell (bass) - Le Père de Famille
Peter Evans (tenor) - Centurion
Robert Poulton (baritone), Polydorus
St. Paul's Cathedral Choristers
Corydon Singers and Orchestra/Matthew Best
rec. October 1994
HYPERION DYAD CDD22067 [44:04 + 56:48]
This is the sort of performance that makes the reviewer's job difficult, simply
because it always sounds "right". Matthew Best's tempi sound spot-on,
the phrases flow in a natural, cantabile manner, and the progression
from movement to movement sounds inevitable. It's the kind of reading that
tends to disarm criticism and to beg analysis, and it would be nice just to
say, buy it and enjoy it - still, some specifics are probably in order.
To begin, the score has never before sounded quite so "French". High-profile
virtuoso orchestras have played this music handsomely on record - notably the
Boston Symphony and the London Symphony, for Munch (RCA) and Colin Davis (Philips,
lost in Universal Music's digital limbo) respectively - but with a sort of
all-purpose cosmopolitan sheen. Best somehow finds, or feels, the balance of
colors that brings Berlioz's orchestral palette back to its French roots. Listen
to the Ouverture to Part II, where the sequence and blend of woodwind
solos evokes the reed-heavy registration of a French organ; the aural image
persists as the flowing strings re-enter, section by section. Yet the playing
also evinces plenty of refinement: the Trio in Part III, for two flutes and
harp, is limpid and delicate, remaining so as its central section moves into
higher gear. The players are deservedly identified as Daniel Pailthorpe and
Sarah Newbold, flutes, and Skaila Kanga, harp. Throughout the performance,
rhythms are animated, with neat dovetailings among the various orchestral sections;
the only flaw - and you'd have to be listening for it - is the occasional awkward
grumble from the bass strings.
French singing, on the other hand, would not be something necessarily to emulate
- those wondering at the reasons are urged to consult Richard Miller's English,
French, German, and Italian Techniques of Singing (Scarecrow Press, Metuchen
NJ, 1977) - and fortunately, that doesn't happen here: the blended, full-bodied
tone of the Corydon Singers represents the best of the British choral tradition.
In L'Adieu des Bergers à la Sainte Famille, the rich choral sound,
backed unobtrusively by the orchestra and enhanced by the ambient acoustic,
exemplifies devotional singing of the best sort. Yet the same singers make
the light, airy fugue of "Que de leurs pieds" (disc 2, track
7) as springy as anything in Handel - though the nervously chirping, woodwind-dominated
interlude that follows thoroughly dispels that resemblance!
The solo line-up is strong. I associate Jean Rigby's singing with a rich, contralto-like
timbre, so it's a pleasant surprise to hear her float the lullaby in such a
tender, spinning head mixture. She and Gerald Finley, a firm, sensitive baritone,
make a warm, loving pair of parents for the Christ Child. Oddly, Rigby sounds
more diffuse in the mid-range writing of "Dans cette ville immense" in
Part III, which she should have found more congenial, and her final high cadence
in that movement betrays some strain.
At the start of Herod's solo scene, Alistair Miles is unsteady on sustained
tones - an oratorio bass caught just after the "sell-by" date, perhaps.
As the monologue progresses, however, Miles brings it such a degree of reflective
nuance that one actually ends up feeling sorry for the man. Gwynne Howell is
an authoritative, sympathetic Père de Famille, sounding less
thewy and constricted than he did in the 1980s for, say, the Solti Messiah (Decca).
The Récitant here plays a lesser role than did the ubiquitous
narrators of early Baroque oratorio, Berlioz preferring to move his story forward
through the dramatis personae - one of which is the orchestra! In the
two important solos connecting Parts II and III, John Aler sings ardently,
with the right sort of 6/8 swing. Against this are the mild debits of regular,
unsubtle stresses - which aren't Gallic, either musically or linguistically
- and the occasional white high note. He also drives the vowels a bit hard
in the Epilogue.
Sonically, this recording strikes an ideal balance between definition and resonance.
The aforementioned ambient acoustic colors and warms the overall sonority,
without losing clarity of orchestral and choral detail; one wishes that the
engineers at Chandos and Nimbus could have achieved such results. The perspective
on the solo voices is ideal.
The "Dyad" series is Hyperion's answer to the various two-for-one
reissue packages from Universal (Double Decca, Philips Duo). At such prices,
especially, this ought to be in your collection - it's a performance to love
and to cherish.
Stephen Francis Vasta