Rare French works for violin and orchestra
Gabriel FAURÉ (1845-1924) Violin Concerto in D minor, Op 14
(1878-80) [15:46]
Camille SAINT-SAËNS (1835-1921) Morceau de concert, Op 62 (1880)
[10:27]
Édouard LALO (1823-1892) Fantaisie norvégienne (1878) [14:01]
Ernest GUIRAUD (1837-1892) Caprice (1884) [11:48]
Édouard LALO (1823-1892), arr. Gabriel Pierné (1863-1937)
Guitarre, Op 28 [3:40]
Joseph CANTELOUBE (1879-1957) Poème (1918, 1937–8) [15:29]
Philippe Graffin (violin)
Ulster Orchestra/Thierry Fischer
rec. June 2001, Ulster Hall, Belfast, United Kingdom
First released in March 2002 as CDA67294
HYPERION HELIOS CDH55396 [71:11] 
Helios is Hyperion’s bargain range re-issue marque. It’s the place to go for
a deeply upholstered catalogue of exceptional quality classical CDs. There
are more every month and Hyperion do not complicate the picture with different
reissue series (aopart from their Dyad two CD series): it’s Helios and that’s
it – no sub-labels and no intermediate pricing. Worth keeping an eye on Hyperion’s
‘Please someone buy
me’ page where a constantly changing shop window of premium CDA series
discs are sold for £5.60.
The present French collection is delectable if you have already been won over
by say Saint-Saens’ Havanaise. Fauré’s single movement Concerto
is a dramatic construct rather in the dramaturgical, showy-substantial and
sweetly singing line reflected in Saint-Saëns’ three concertos – also
recorded by Graffin - and the concertos by Tchaikovsky, de
Boeck and Karlowicz.
Not to be missed but you must not expect this to be the highly cultured Fauré.
The concerto was first recorded in 1991 by Rodolfo Bonucci in Mexico City
for ASV (CD DCA686). It also turned up much more recently played by Jean-Marc
Philips-Varjabédian as part of a Timpani collection of all Fauré’s concertante
works (1C1172).
Saint-Saëns's Morceau de concert began life as the first movement
of his Third Violin Concerto but was discarded. Not sure why; it’s certainly
pari passu with the other Saint-Saens’ single movement violin pieces
and is as much a discovered delight as the Caprice Andalou. The Lalo
Fantaisie norvégienne is another sweetly nationalistic essay –
this time in three movements. The material is tangily flavoured with mannerisms
we associate with Norwegian folk music. It’s three succinct movements are
concentrated tone poems with breathily romantic nationalism very much the
order of the day. Think in terms of a shorter Symphonie espagnole but
with Norway as the focus – just as succulent. There’s also a purely orchestral
Rhapsodie Norvégienne by Lalo. Lalo also wrote similarly nationalistic
concertante pieces in a related idiom with Spain and Russia as their locales.
M. Graffin’s notes tell us that Sarasate premiered the piece on 1 December
1878 with Max Bruch conducting and that this in turn inspired Bruch to write
his Scottish Fantaisie – a work I have never been able to get on with.
The two movement Guiraud Caprice is darker and more confiding
yet still out of the high romantic. It was dedicated to Sarasate and modelled
on the bipartite Saint-Saëns’ work, Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso.
It’s a smoothly resolved piece and passionate too - aided by Graffin’s pure
yet fervent line and some nicely rasping work from the Ulster Orchestra brass.
The violin whistles high in the lark-haunted firmament in the second of the
two movements – a sort of 19th century counterpart to Sibelius’s
Humoresques. Guiraud’s grand operatic credentials show in the final
pages. The Lalo-Pierné Guitarre is another toothsome brevity
– the shortest here at less than four minutes. It has a faintly Spanish accent.
The Canteloube Poème is from another later era. It has a deeper
vein of melancholia and some countryside impressionistic moments – perhaps
a little like Julius Harrison’s Bredon Hill (Dutton
and Lyrita).
It was written just after the Great War and revised within months of the start
of the Second World War. I must not leave the impression that it is completely
unrelated to the other works on the disc. It represents a sort of green fusion
between the sweetly romantic effusions of the late-nineteenth century and
the more freshly knowing Delian invention you hear in Canteloube’s luminous
orchestral re-workings of the Chants de l’Auvergne. There are some
almost rapturously glowing Straussian moments along the way. Do not forget
Graffin’s other Hyperion
Canteloube recording.
Lavish deep-pile rarities from the long-sustained Gallic-romantic sunset.
Rob Barnett
Lavish deep-pile rarities from the long-sustained Gallic-romantic sunset.