Olivier MESSIAEN (1908-1992)
The Organ Works
Contents list at end of review
Jennifer Bate (organ)
rec. 1979-1987, Cathédrale Saint Pierre, Beauvais; Église de la Sainte-Trinité,
Paris
Originally issued by Unicorn-Kanchana; reissued by Regis
TREASURE ISLAND UKCD6001 [6 CDs: 453:17]
One of my most treasured memories is hearing Jennifer Bate
play Messiaen’s Livre du Saint Sacrement in a suitably darkened
Festival Hall many years ago. It was a magical occasion, made all the more
so by the presence of the composer himself. Although very frail he was coaxed
on stage afterwards to acknowledge the sustained applause. It was fitting
that Bate gave the UK première of the piece, as Messiaen regarded her as one
the foremost exponents of his music. Her set of the organ works was first
released on LP by the now-defunct Unicorn-Kanchana; it was subsequently reissued
by Regis
in 2001. This new compilation is by Treasure Island Music, who style themselves
as ‘custodians of invaluable master recordings’.
Bate’s box is not quite complete. Unlike Olivier Latry (Deutsche
Grammophon), Hans-Ola Ericsson (BIS)
and Gillian Weir (Collins, Priory) she doesn’t include the posthumous
Prélude (?1928), Offrande au Saint Sacrement (1930/35) and
Monodie (?1963). Weir’s traversal, recorded on the splendid
Frobenius organ of Aarhus Cathedral, is my benchmark for these works. It’s
worth noting that Priory have chosen to reissue her recordings in five separate
volumes and not as s single collection. As for Bate’s Regis set it’s
now hard to find, although I did see a copy on Amazon for an eye-watering
£123.00.
CD1 contains La nativité du Seigneur, Le banquet
céleste and Apparition de l’église éternelle. These are
early pieces, composed between 1928 and 1935, the grandest of which focuses
on the nativity of Christ. In my recent review of Tom Winpenny’s recent
recording of the latter (Naxos)
I suggested it is one of the greatest organ works ever written. I haven’t
heard Bate’s Messiaen in ages, so I was curious as to how I'd react
to it after all this time. With the exception of Livre du Saint Sacrement,
recorded on the Cavaillé-Coll at Église de la Sainte-Trinité, Paris –
where Messiaen was titulaire for 60 years – she plays the 1979
Danion-Gonzalez of Beauvais Cathedral in northern France.
Bate’s La nativité is lucidly done, the filigreed writing especially
well served. As for the organ’s celestial registers they’re just
ravishing. In general, her playing is scrupulous, perhaps even a tad cautious,
but she does have a good feel for Messiaen’s slow, ever-shifting shapes
and sonorities. I longed for stronger contrasts – something more precipitous,
perhaps – but as the rest of this cycle confirms that's not Bate's way.
Weir and Ericsson are more dramatic - Latry is a little too cerebral for my
taste - but for something very special look no further than Simon Preston’s
epic Decca recording. For me that has never been equalled, let alone surpassed.
And for a fresh, invigorating take on the piece, well played and recorded,
seek out Jean-Pierre Lecaudey (Pavane).
The other performances on this disc, Le banquet céleste and Apparition
de l’église éternelle, are perfectly decent; again, Ericsson and
Weir are more arresting and insightful, but for a truly splendid vision of
the eternal city - sculpted in glittering sound - Thomas Trotter is hard to
beat (Decca). I realise that his and Preston’s recordings aren’t
part of larger sets – more’s the pity – but anyone interested
in this music would do well to investigate these two releases. Besides, good
couplings make them even more attractive; for instance, Preston’s La
nativité is partnered by Antal Doráti’s superb Washington account
of La transfiguration.
So, not a bad start to Bate’s cycle, although the recording isn’t
as formidable as I remembered it. Indeed, in the LP days her Dieu parmi
nous was something of a demonstration track. I did a quick A/B comparison
between the Regis and Treasure Island discs. They’re not very different,
but the latter does sound a bit thinner and brighter at times. Alas, it seems
that time and advancing technology haven’t been kind to this recording,
which is nowhere near as good as either Weir’s or Ericsson’s.
I know Latry’s Messiaen is highly regarded in terms of both performance
and sonics, but I've yet to be persuaded of its virtues.
Matters improve with CD2, which is devoted to L’Ascension,
the first of Messiaen’s organ ‘cycles’, and Les corps
glorieux. The first is actually derived from an orchestral piece penned
between 1932 and 1933. In four titled movements it brims with imagination
and incident. One can sense the composer setting out his stall as it were;
there's music of quiet radiance and implacable resolve – Majesté
du Christ – and then there's the unbridled passion/ecstasy of Transports
de joie. Bate seems less circumspect too. Yes, she’s steady, but
there’s also a glow to her performance. Indeed, her account of the closing
Prière has a lustre, a shift and shimmer, that’s just glorious.
If anything Weir, magnificently recorded, is even lovelier.
Now this is more like the Jennifer Bate that I came to admire all those years
ago. Her reading of the seven-movement Les corps glorieux is equally
reassuring; the fine detail of Subtilité des corps glorieux is remarkable,
as is her rhythmic control in Les eaux de la grâce. It’s at
times like these that one understands why Messiaen preferred her playing above
all others. You may find more excitement elsewhere – more sinew, perhaps
– but for sheer splendour Bate is hard to beat. Happily, this disc sounds
better than the first one; in fact it’s vastly superior, with rich sonorities
and an airiness that suits the music so well. Even the dark, ruminative bass
of Le Mystère de la Sainte Trinité is superbly rendered.
CD3 is devoted to the first of Messiaen’s post-war
organ pieces, Messe de la Pentecôte (1950) and Livre d’orgue
(1951). I started off by listening to Volume 3 of Ericsson’s cycle,
which duplicates this programme exactly. The first thing one notices about
the Mass is how angular Messiaen’s writing has become, how
dense some of his textures. Ericsson really emphasises these qualities, and
the gnarlier aspects of Luleå Cathedral’s Grönlund are well caught.
The swirling bass of Offertoire is particularly powerful, the mahoganied
sound refined yet with that distinctive rasp when required. It’s a terrific
performance, whose hypnotic pull – ancient and modern all at once –
can’t fail to captivate.
Bate’s account of the Mass, recorded almost a decade earlier,
isn’t quite so uncompromising in its shape and thrust. In general, her
playing is characterised by a soft edge, which tends to blunt the music’s
sharper contrasts and reduce the impact of its epiphanies. That’s certainly
true here; also, the restless, rolling bass in Offertoire is somewhat
cloudy. No, the cool, clear-eyed Ericsson is much to be preferred here. Weir
is different again; for a start that Frobenius is a mighty beast, with a wide
range of colours and a thrilling presence. Indeed, Weir's Mass has
a forbidding grandeur that few can match.
One of the pleasures of reissues such as this one is that they allow one to
revisit and re-evaluate older recordings in the light of what’s been
heard since. If anything, listening to these performances en bloc
confirms just how varied this music is, and how it yields so readily to different
interpretations. What also strikes me is that of the three organists considered
here Weir is the most imaginative and exciting. As with Preston in La
nativité she’s not afraid to scale these heady heights, rejoicing
in the precipitous climb; once there she looks down without a trace of fear
or faintness. Bate, for all her virtues, isn’t quite so adventurous;
for that matter, neither is Ericsson, but then he does illuminate these pieces
in other ways.
Having said all that Bate certainly impresses with her bold response to Livre
d’orgue. The sound of this Danion-Gonzalez may be an acquired taste
- some Messiaen fans feel it's just plain wrong for this music - but it can
be as engaging and characterful as any; the foghorn blasts in Reprises
par interversion are particularly individual. For what it’s worth
Ericsson is as forensic as ever, especially in the lovely bird calls of Chants
d’oiseaux. The songs of these avian interlopers, already heard
in La nativité (1935) and the piano ‘cycle’ Vingt
regards sur l’enfant-Jésus (1944), became even more integral to
the composer’s later works.
As an aside, it surprises me that even after all these years this unique repertoire
is still derided in some quarters. I can understand that in this overwhelmingly
secular and corrosively cynical age Messiaen’s staunch Catholicism isn’t
fashionable; trouble is, it’s ingrained in his oeuvre in much
the same way that it is in the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins. In short,
you simply cannot have one without the other. Then there are the charges of
prolixity; Méditations sur le mystère de la Sainte Trinité, on CD4,
runs for nearly 80 minutes, while Livre du Saint Sacrement stretches
to around 130. Daunting, even for die-hards, but as ‘my’ Bate
concert demonstrated these seemingly impossible spans are not without reward.
Messiaen’s nine meditations on the theological conundrum that lies at
the heart of his faith finds the composer – and this organist –
in very confident form. There’s a new clarity to the writing –
less of the soft equivocations and more of the hard questions – that’s
mirrored in Bate’s unusually robust playing. And goodness, the sudden
clangour that erupts in the first meditation is superbly caught. More important,
there’s a sense of daring here that I don’t often hear in Bate’s
Messiaen. What glorious detail – that birdsong again – and what
authority resides in those majestic moments. Musically and technically this
is the most satisfying disc in the box thus far; in a fire it's the one I’d
save.
CD5 takes us back in time, to the delightfully deft little
Diptyque (1930) and the academic test piece Verset pour la fête
de la dédicace (1960); thereafter Bate launches into the first half of
Livre du Saint Sacrement, which concludes on CD6.
The two short works show this organist at her very best, with supple rhythms
and a palette of the most luminous colours. I can imagine the composer being
only too pleased to add his imprimatur to such lovely performances. However,
the switch to Paris for Livre du Saint Sacrement, his pièce de
resistance, is not without its problems.
Sainte-Trinité's Cavaillé-Coll certainly adds heft to the music-making, but
the downside is that there's a significant rise in the noise floor;
alas, that very significant rumble disfigures the work’s quieter and
more delicate movements, such as La source de vie. A quick comparison
with the Regis discs confirms the change; the usual noise is present in the
latter - it’s an occupational hazard with organ recordings – but
at least it doesn't obscure so much detail. As for Bate's performance it’s
as solid as I remembered it, although it will never efface memories of that
live concert.
That said, Weir’s Livre du Saint Sacrement is exceptional;
she really has the measure of this epic score, its structure and its stark
contrasts. In an astonishing display of strength and virtuosity she seems
to stud the very vaults of heaven with great bosses of sound. Bate is at her
best in the music’s side chapels as it were, but if you want to experience
the entire edifice in all its grit and glory Weir’s performance is the
one to have. As if that weren’t accolade enough, the Collins recording
- made in association with BBC Radio 3 - is as fearless as her playing.
I’m not a great fan of boxed sets – I own very few of them –
as they’re rarely recommendable in toto. Bate’s box is
a case in point: apart from her Méditations, L’Ascension,
Les corps glorieux and Diptyque there’s nothing in
this box that I’d regard as indispensable. Trouble is, Treasure Island
only offer the complete set, so unless you’re prepared to hunt down
individual Regis discs or download selected mp3 files you won’t be able
to cherry-pick the best of Bate. At around £27 her box looks like fair value,
but on a £ per disc basis Latry’s and Ericsson’s seven-disc sets
don’t cost a whole lot more. It’s easier to be selective about
Weir’s recordings, as the five volumes are sold separately. However,
if you want 'em all – and I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t
– you’re looking at around £52; then again, those discs are a
bargain at any price.
One final point; the Treasure Island discs are presented in software-style
paper sleeves that need to be peeled open. The CDs and booklet are so tightly
packed in their thin cardboard container that I had to turn the box upside
down and shake out the contents. Even then the booklet had bonded to an inner
seam and emerged slightly damaged.
There are some truly wondrous things in Bate’s box, but Weir and Ericsson
are more compelling throughout; they’re better recorded, too.
Dan Morgan
twitter.com/mahlerei
Contents list
CD 1 [71:50]
La nativité du Seigneur (1935) [54:55]
Le banquet céleste (1928) [6:55]
Apparition de l’église éternelle (1932) [10:00]
Recorded 1979
CD 2 [74:39]
L’Ascension (1934) [26:40]
Les corps glorieux (1939) [47:59]
Recorded 1979/80
CD 3 [75:31]
Messe de la Pentecôte (1950) [30:03]
Livre d’orgue (1951) [45:28]
Recorded 1980/81
CD 4 [78:19]
Méditations sur le mystère de la Sainte Trinité (1969) [78:19]
Recorded 1980/81
CD 5 [78:18]
Diptyque (1930) [12:25]
Verset pour la fête de la dédicace (1960) [11:01]
Livre du Saint Sacrement (1984) (beginning) [54:52]
Recorded 1980/1987
CD 6 [74:40]
Livre du Saint Sacrement (end)
Recorded 1987