Piano Concerto in G major; Don Quiehotte a Dulcinee; Deux Melodies hebraiques; Pavane pour une infante defunte; Trois Poems de Stephane Mallarme; Concerto for the Left Hand in D major; Sainte. Cedric Tiberghien, piano; Stephane Degout, baritone; Francois-Xavier Roth, Les Siecles. Harmonia Mundi HMM 902612.
By John J. Puccio
Although we’ve had quite a few recordings of French composer Maurice Ravel’s (1875-1937) music over the years, I don’t think I’ve ever heard one quite like this. The difference is in this recording’s use of original instruments. First, the French classical pianist Cedric Tiberghien, who takes the solo parts, uses a Pleyel piano from 1892, an instrument on which Ravel’s music might well have been played in his lifetime. Second, Francois-Xavier Roth leads his period-instrument band Les Siecles (“The Centuries”) in as historically accurate performance as possible. It helps, too, of course, that these are splendid interpretations of the material, making for a good time all the way around.
The album contains two longer works, the Piano Concerto in G major and the Concerto for the Left Hand in D major. In addition, there are five shorter works, chief among them the Pavane pour une infante defunte. So, let’s take a look at them one by one.
The program beings with Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, which the composer wrote was 1931. It came about as a clear result of George Gershwin's music having persuaded him to inject some American jazz into his own scores. This connection is evident early on in the concerto, but, as we might have expected, Ravel added his own suggestions of dreamy, Romantic impressionism to the mix. It is certainly one of Ravel's most-imaginative works, full of jazzy bustle one moment and a tender grace the next, and unless the pianist is careful, the piece can appear as merely a series of clamorous rants and fanciful gestures. In my book, nothing has beaten the recording Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli left us (EMI/Warner), but with pianist Tiberghien, the music is still magical.
The old Pleyel piano may not be quite as rich or mellow as today’s Steinways, but it generates a glowing presence, and Tiberghien coaxes some persuasively seductive sounds from it. He’s particularly good in the quiet, languid parts, where his delicate touch enhances almost every note. This extends especially to the quiet Adagio assai (“very slowly”), where the central movement has never sounded so eloquent or graceful, tinged as it is with hints of dissonance. And for a change, the Presto finale doesn’t appear as just noise for noise sake but, instead, is as playful as Ravel I’m sure intended.
Next are two shorter works, the song cycle Don Quichote a Dulcinee (“Don Quixote and Dulcinea”), in three brief dance movements, and the Deus Melodies hebriques (“Two Hebrew Songs”) in two brief movements. These are well sung by baritone Stephane Degout and provide a welcome interlude before we get to the more-famous Pavane pour une defune (“Pavane for a dead princess”), which Tiberghien plays with a flowing poise and power. That’s followed by another vocal interlude of three poems by Stephane Mallarme.
Then comes the Concerto for the Left Hand, which Ravel wrote in 1929-30 for the pianist Paul Wittgenstein, who had lost his right arm in World War I and commissioned a number of works for the left hand alone. The Concerto contains an assortment of different sections, but they’re present in a single movement. It is not as frisky or airy as the Concerto in G but, in fact, seems starker, weightier, sometimes sterner. Still, Tiberghien never overemphasizes the more severe or more martial elements of the score, concentrating instead on its insistent rhythms and mysterious, often dramatic ambience.
The disc ends with the song Sainte (1896), again based on a poem by Stéphane Mallarmé, which concludes things in a somewhat solemn but cogent tone.
Producer and engineer Jiri Heger recorded the music at the Grande salle Pierre Boulez and Le Studio, Philharmonie de Paris, France, December 2020 and September 2021. The sound Mr. Heger produces is among the best I’ve heard. It’s extremely well detailed, as transparent as it can be, with a good depth of field and stereo spread. Dynamics and impact are fine as well, creating a realistic realization of the music.
JJP
By John J. Puccio
The album contains two longer works, the Piano Concerto in G major and the Concerto for the Left Hand in D major. In addition, there are five shorter works, chief among them the Pavane pour une infante defunte. So, let’s take a look at them one by one.
The program beings with Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, which the composer wrote was 1931. It came about as a clear result of George Gershwin's music having persuaded him to inject some American jazz into his own scores. This connection is evident early on in the concerto, but, as we might have expected, Ravel added his own suggestions of dreamy, Romantic impressionism to the mix. It is certainly one of Ravel's most-imaginative works, full of jazzy bustle one moment and a tender grace the next, and unless the pianist is careful, the piece can appear as merely a series of clamorous rants and fanciful gestures. In my book, nothing has beaten the recording Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli left us (EMI/Warner), but with pianist Tiberghien, the music is still magical.
The old Pleyel piano may not be quite as rich or mellow as today’s Steinways, but it generates a glowing presence, and Tiberghien coaxes some persuasively seductive sounds from it. He’s particularly good in the quiet, languid parts, where his delicate touch enhances almost every note. This extends especially to the quiet Adagio assai (“very slowly”), where the central movement has never sounded so eloquent or graceful, tinged as it is with hints of dissonance. And for a change, the Presto finale doesn’t appear as just noise for noise sake but, instead, is as playful as Ravel I’m sure intended.
Then comes the Concerto for the Left Hand, which Ravel wrote in 1929-30 for the pianist Paul Wittgenstein, who had lost his right arm in World War I and commissioned a number of works for the left hand alone. The Concerto contains an assortment of different sections, but they’re present in a single movement. It is not as frisky or airy as the Concerto in G but, in fact, seems starker, weightier, sometimes sterner. Still, Tiberghien never overemphasizes the more severe or more martial elements of the score, concentrating instead on its insistent rhythms and mysterious, often dramatic ambience.
The disc ends with the song Sainte (1896), again based on a poem by Stéphane Mallarmé, which concludes things in a somewhat solemn but cogent tone.
Producer and engineer Jiri Heger recorded the music at the Grande salle Pierre Boulez and Le Studio, Philharmonie de Paris, France, December 2020 and September 2021. The sound Mr. Heger produces is among the best I’ve heard. It’s extremely well detailed, as transparent as it can be, with a good depth of field and stereo spread. Dynamics and impact are fine as well, creating a realistic realization of the music.
JJP
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