Gabriel Pierné is one of those composers whose name has long
been in the shadow of more popular composers; in this case that
of Maurice Ravel, but also of Albert Roussel; all three of whom
coincidentally died in the same year. Pierné was certainly no
modernist, and he spent more energy on a fine career as a conductor
rather than on composing, which he did whilst on summer retreats
in Brittany. While lack of fashionable credit might have kept
his name in relative obscurity this is no reflection on the
innate quality of his work, and this fine recording will do
no harm to his reputation.
The programme begins with the Marche des petits soldats de
plomb acting as an overture. This first appeared as a piano
piece, but Pierné was able to ride its popularity by making
a charmingly inventive and once famous orchestral version. The
“old-fashioned nursery charm” of this opening is set directly
against the grand opening gestures of the Piano Concerto.My
only previous experience with Pierné’s C minor
piano concerto on one of those BIS ‘twins’ releases,
coupled with the Tchaikovsky and Grieg concertos and with Dag
Achatz as soloist. This certainly didn’t make as huge
an impression as this spectacular new recording with Jean-Efflam
Bavouzet. The opening effect of the piano chords transforming
into orchestral sound is quite magical, and the booklet notes
by Gerald Larner correctly identify an anticipation of Rachmaninoff
in some aspects of this music. The overall style is high romantic,
but with a clarity of expression which carries the listener
along as easily as anything by Saint-Saëns, who is also identified
as an influential factor in the structure of the piece. Pierné
has his own magnificent big tune moments though, and the first
movement Allegro is a masterpiece of emotional manipulation
– heroic and triumphantly emotional by turns. The central movement
is a scherzo rather than a slower centre, the demanding journey
of the first movement having already been weighty enough to
find us deserving a lighter section. Fleeting and virtuosic
piano writing and transparent orchestration give this movement
a delightfully balletic feel. This sets us up for the roller-coaster
ride of the Finale, which recalls the main theme from
the first movement as well as putting a cyclic structure to
work which is reminiscent of techniques employed by Pierné’s
organ teacher César Franck. This is large-scale and ambitious
writing, but avoids becoming heavy through plenty of light and
shade contrasts both in material and orchestration, which is
frequently quite sparing. The vast range of the recording brings
Pierné’s colours to vibrant life, and this combined with such
a potent performance grants this neglected concerto a well deserved
revival.
A much later work, the Divertissements sur un Thème Pastoral
contrasts hugely with the romantic overtones of the Piano
Concerto. There are elements of neo-classicism in the piece,
and with the Parisian air filled with the cultural revolutions
of ‘Les six’ and the influx of new kinds of popular music there
would have been plenty for an imaginative composer to get his
teeth into. While the romantic feel is still present, this is
tinged with a palette which allows slide trombones and witty
syncopation, swooping film-music gestures and the introduction
of an orchestral saxophone. This ‘new stuff’ appears with a
slightly coy, almost Elgar-like reserve, but you can sense the
older composer enjoying himself immensely, and the closing moments
of the work are superbly uplifting.
The name Ramuntcho comes from a novel from 1897 by Pierre
Loti. The two suites performed here derive from Pierné’s incidental
music from a stage production of the story. This tells of an
eponymous hero who returns to his village after military service,
only to find his bride-to be in enforced confinement to a convent.
The story ends with Gracieuse dying, torn between the choice
which she has to make between God and her lover. Pierné’s score
delivered more than the rather melodramatic tale would seem
to indicate possible, but he made full use of the regional colour
in the story, conjuring the pungent Basque atmosphere with confident
ebullience in the Overture. There are intensely beautiful
moments, such as the scene in Le Jardin de Gracieuse,
the interaction of the two main characters depicted by a duet
of flutes which move lyrically over a bed of strings, harp and
warm wind chords. Moving theatricality is drawn out of La
chamber de Franchita, in which the hero’s sick mother lies,
close to death. This desolation is punctured by the lively Fandango
which follows, recalling earlier village dances. The second
suite opens with another sprightly piece, evoking the folk-character
of a cider house. The piety and sober gloom of Le Couvent
follows, rich in the kinds of parallel progressions which Poulenc
used in his opera on the Carmelites. The whole thing closes
with a Rhapsodie Basque, which opens with a funereal
tread, but gradually picks up tempo in a kind of review of the
play in reverse. Whatever the nature of the story, this is very
fine music and fully capable of standing alone as a concert
work. The perfectly balanced sonorities of the BBC Philharmonic
do it magnificent justice.
This is a very fine disc indeed. Beautifully recorded and performed,
Juanjo Mena has a seemingly effortless control of every subtlety
in these scores, and as previously mentioned the cause of Gabriel
Pierné should be greatly enhanced with this release. The biggest
item is the Piano Concerto, and Jean-Efflam Bavouzet’s
storming of the CD catalogue continues apace. Everything here
is well worth acquiring though, and this is a programme with
no fillers.
Dominy Clements
Jean-Efflam Bavouzet (piano) 
