Duruflé: Requiem; Poulenc: Four Lenten Motets (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

The Choir of Trinity College Cambridge; Harrison Cole, organ; Stephen Layton, conductor. Hyperion CDA68436

I will freely admit to knowing very little about the French composer Maurice Duruflé (1902-1986). To be honest, until studying the CD booklet and doing a quick bit of supplementary research, I had no idea he was so relatively modern, living until 1986. And although I am not a huge organ buff, I certainly recognize the names of the famous organists Pierre Cochereau, Jean Guillou, and Marie-Claire Alain – all of whom were students of Duruflé. However, although I knew very little about Duruflé the composer (pictured below), I was familiar with one of his compositions, because his Requiem was sometimes paired on recordings along with the Requiem of his fellow Frenchman, Gabriel Fauré. An outstanding example of that pairing is the Telarc release featuring Robert Shaw leading the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus.

Whereas the Telarc recording of the Duruflé features the full scoring for chorus, organ, and orchestra, this new Hyperion release is of the version sans orchestra. Given Duruflé’s reputation as a master of the organ, however, one should not be surprised to hear the prominent role given to the king of the instruments in this performance. From the rich bass notes that open the piece through the chords that accompany solo voices, Harrison Cole’s organ plays a prominent role in the proceedings. If anything, this version with organ sounds more like an actual requiem than as the version which also includes the orchestra. The latter, although undeniably beautiful, sounds more of a concert piece. The rich, full-bodied sound of the choir combined with the powerful sound of the organ make this recording of the Requiem one to be treasured.

Also appearing on this release are Four Lenten Motets by another French composer of the twentieth century, Francis Poulenc (1899-1962). These are sung a cappella, with a leaner, cleaner, slightly drier sense of expression than the Duruflé, yet clear and direct. The CD booklet mentions that Poulenc (pictured right) had sought out some compositional advice from the composer Charles Koechlin (1867-1960), who proved to be a “very open-minded teacher, allowing sharp, grating dissonances as long as they could be expressively validated, and a combination of suavity and abrasiveness was to be a hallmark of Poulenc’s vocal writing during the last twenty-five years of his life. In each of these Lenten motes he tends to support the beginning and end of his phrases with a consonant chord, but on the way from one to the other he takes us through some agonizing sounds, as well as some seductive ones.” More the latter than the former, to be sure, is what you will find here. 

All in all, what we have here is another first-class release from the good folks at Hyperion. Excellent performances, superb engineering, informative liner notes with text, attractive cover art – the whole package exudes quality and earns a solid recommendation.

 

Further Thoughts: On Poulenc and Jazz Cats

 

I’ve been intending for a while now to post some thoughts about the relationship between classical music and jazz. I’ve mentioned before that jazz can be viewed in some respects as a kind of chamber music; however, today I would like to throw something else out there -- -- the influence of classical music on jazz musicians. As it turns out, at the time I was listening to the Hyperion recording I reviewed above, I was just finishing the book Three Shades of Blue by James Kaplan (review forthcoming) which covers the lives of jazz giants Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Bill Evans (the key figures responsible for the seminal  jazz album Kind of Blue) and mentions how all three were influenced by classical music. 

Then, just was I gathering my thoughts and going over my notes in preparation for writing my review of the Duruflé/Poulenc release, lo and behold, what did I happen to see on X (formerly Twitter) but this March 25 post from the estimable San Francisco-based critic Richard Scheinin: This great 2000 interview with Jackie McLean is full of surprises... e.g., he describes early days with Miles & Sonny -- but also how he stole harmonies from Poulenc for "A Ballad for Doll."  Scheinin then includes a link to the interview, in which the found the famed alto saxophonist Jackie McLean (1931-2006) in conversation with a musician from a younger generation, the innovative composer and saxophonist Steve Lehman (b. 1978). 

 

I’ve included below the portion of the interview in which the two musicians discuss the influence of classical composers upon jazz musicians. This is a theme that I will be exploring at greater depth in future postings. 

 

Steve Lehman: If I asked you who some of your influences were as a composer, would some stuff come to mind at all?

Jackie McLean:  OK. Alright. It would be like, I guess…it’s a funny combination of people whose music I can get a feel for. Thelonious would be one of them. Thelonious, Tadd Dameron, kind of, and then a little later, Gil Evans, his interpretations of some of that harmony and stuff. But all of them come from Duke, I learned that later on, you know, that they all come from Duke. But I had never thought of Duke as my inspiration for writing. I mean, I always loved his stuff. The more I learn about music the more amazed I am at what he was doing so early.

SL:  His concept.

JM:  Yeah, you know. But for the time that I came along, it was Thelonious, and then Bud and Bird together, kind of their compositional style.

SL:  Stuff like “Quadrangle,” the opening where it’s two horns and just a drummer, or maybe just drums and bass, it made me think a little bit of like the beginning to “Ko-Ko.”

JM: “Ko-Ko.” Right. Yeah, those kind of things. And then of course, there’s some harmony that I draw from, like for instance, on that piece that I did…. I think it was (on the chord changes to) “Star Eyes” on “Capuchin Swing,” on the bridge, I stole that right out from Bach: a direct line from him.

SL:  Wow. Another thing that made me think of possible Classical influences…the chord, the voicing for “A Fickle Sonance,” that stacked harmony. Or is that something you just heard?

JM:  No, I think I just heard that. But I did steal from Poulenc on “A Ballad for Doll.”

SL:  On Jackie’s Bag.

JM:  Yeah, the second to last section, that harmony at the end of the melody, those chords coming down I took from Francis Poulenc, a French composer that I liked a lot.

I can’t explain what it is about him that I like. He’s got a little sense of humor or something in his classical concept.

SL:  He’s hard to categorize.

JM:  Yeah [laughs].

SL:  Because, there’s definitely some, like you said, humor. And he also, I feel like if you look at when the piece was written, and then you hear the thing, it makes you feel like it would have been much later.

JM:  Yeah. He’s quite an incredible guy. A lot of people don’t like him.

SL:  That’s true.

JM:  You know. And I can’t help but feel…I can’t understand it. It’s something about his writing that really gets me, you know?

SL:  Yeah. Yeah. I haven’t heard that much of it.

JM:  And then of course there’s all the other beautiful things. The whole idea of the word beauty as it fits in music, of something that’s beautiful to your ear, without having to put them in a category of Jazz or Classical. Take “Romeo & Juliet” by Tchaikovsky.  Miles, I always admired something in Miles’s playing because Miles heard all these things, you know. He quoted a lot of beautiful melodies.

SL:  From Western Classical music?

JM:  Yeah. Oh yeah.

SL:  OK. I didn’t know that.

JM:  Oh yeah, man. All of those influences, you know?

SL:  And what about, I know you mentioned Stravinsky?

JM:  Oh, well of course. Yeah.

SL:  That goes without saying.

JM:  Yeah, and Bartok, you know, those guys. And there’s another guy that I liked a lot, Alec Wilder. This guy really touches me, man.

SL:  The tunes you wrote in the early 50s, they all have such a modern feel to them.

JM:  Uh huh.

SL:  You know, “Dr. Jackle,” “Little Melonae,” even this tune on that album with George Wallington…"Snakes.”

JM: “Snakes,” yeah. Well, that was after I had listened to Stravinsky and them cats.

Saint-Saens: Symphony No 3 “Organ Symphony” (SACD review)

Also, Poulenc: Concerto for Organ, Strings and Timpani; Wider: Symphony for Organ No. 5. Christopher Jacobson, organ; Kazuki Yamada, Orchestre de la Suisse Romande. Pentatone PTC 5186 638.

By John J. Puccio

If you went to the catalogue of classical recordings, I’m sure you’d find that the “Organ” Symphony of Saint-Saens ranks right up there in popularity with the symphonies of Beethoven, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky. It’s that well liked. So it’s inevitable that we get new recordings of it every year. This new one under review is an international affair: the music is, of course, French. The conductor, Kazuki Yamada, is Japanese. The organist, Christopher Jacobson, is American. And the ensemble, the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, is the Swiss orchestra co-founded by Ernest Ansermet in 1918. Whether this array of global talent does any better a job of interpreting the music must be left to the individual listener, naturally, but I can tell you after having sat through most of the recordings currently available, the new one does a pretty good job with it.

The French composer, organist, pianist, and conductor Camille Saint-Saens (1835-1921) wrote his Symphony No. 3 in C-minor, “Organ,” Op. 78, in 1886. It is probably the most-popular thing he ever wrote and, as I say, remains one of the most popular pieces of classical music of any kind.

Saint-Saëns called the work “a symphony with organ,” and he remarked, "I gave everything to it I was able to give. What I have here accomplished, I will never achieve again." Apparently he knew what he was talking about because even though he lived on for thirty-five more years, he never wrote another symphony, organ or otherwise.

The composer divided the work into two major parts, with two divisions in each part. It’s an odd arrangement, but it essentially works out to a conventional four-movement symphony. What’s more, although most people today know the work as the “Organ Symphony,” Saint-Saens himself labeled it Symphonie No. 3 "avec orgue" (with organ). In fact, the organ only plays a part in two of the four movements, the second and the last. But it makes enough of an impression for folks to remember it.

The first movement has always seemed to me the least distinguished, the least characterful, but Maestro Yamada and the orchestra do the best they can. They establish a sweet, leisurely tempo in this section, which, if anything, leads effectively into the second, slow movement.

The second movement Adagio always reminds me of soft, warm waves flowing over and around one’s body on a tropical beach somewhere. Here’s where the organ (Christopher jacobson, organist) makes its first entry, coming in with what should be huge, gentle, undulating washes of sound. Unfortunately, I didn’t really hear or feel those waves from the organ, which stays remarkably aloof from the proceedings. While it’s not unpleasant, it’s not what I expected, either. Actually, Saint-Saens labels this movement Poco Adagio, or a little bit slow. In other words, not quite as slow as a traditional Adagio. Yet Yamada and his team take it at a pace that seems almost drowsy compared to many other recordings.

The two movements that comprise the finale can be fiery and exhilarating, if not a little bombastic, with the organ blazing the trail. Here, Yamada maintains the unhurried atmosphere he set in the beginning, giving us a relaxed, almost tranquil close. Again, not what I expected and not at all unpleasant, but different. Some listeners will no doubt find the reading lyrically rewarding. However, I found it a far cry from the more electrifying performances by Louis Fremaux and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (Warner Classics/EMI), Charles Munch and the Boston Symphony (RCA/JVC), or the steady yet still heady version by Jean Martinon and the National Orchestra of France (EMI or Brilliant Classics), all of which remain my first-choice recommendations.

Coupled with the Symphony are two more organ works by French composers: Francis Poulenc’s Concerto for Organ, Strings, and Timpani; and Charles-Maria Widor’s Toccata from his Symphony for Organ No. 5. The Poulenc work seems especially well suited to the understated style of Yamada and Jacobson, and it comes off with an appropriately energetic, yet spiritual and inspirational tone. Well done. As an encore, Jacobson gives the Widor Toccata a good, healthy flourish.

Producer Job Maarse and engineers Erdo Groot and Jean-Marie Geijsen recorded the music at Victory Hall, Geneva, Switzerland in August 2017. They made the recording for hybrid multichannel SACD, two-channel SACD, and two-channel CD playback. I listened in two-channel SACD.

The hall nicely complements the sound of the orchestra, giving it a degree of depth and resonance that some venues lack. The sonics are smooth and natural, not particularly transparent or “audiophile” but lifelike in their presentation. The SACD recording ensures that dynamics are there when needed, both in range and impact, although here, too, it isn’t quite in the audiophile class of clarity but more subtle. The organ makes a different impression on the ears in each of the three works on the disc. It’s restrained and a tad recessed in the Saint-Saens, more aggressive in the Poulenc, and finally comes into its own in the solo Widor piece. Of more important note, the organ is always well balanced with the orchestra, and that’s good to hear.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click below:

PLAY: Works for Cello and Piano (CD review)

Edgar Moreau, cello; Pierre-Yves Hodique, piano. Erato 0825646369584.

Cellist Edgar Moreau started playing the cello when he was four years old, so as of this writing he has been playing the instrument for some sixteen years. Funny, because in his pictures he doesn't look much older than sixteen. No matter: He plays like someone who has been studying the cello for twice his lifetime. On the present disc, pianist Pierre-Yves Hodique accompanies Moreau, and he, too, appears quite young. Again, don't let appearances fool you; these two fellows make an excellent team.

At fifteen years of age, Moreau won the Young Soloist Prize at the Rostropovich Competition; then at seventeen he won second prize at the International Tchaikovsky Competition. He signed an exclusive contract with Erato/Warner Classics, and for this debut album (the title apparently inspired by modern computer usage, as in "Press the PLAY button"), Moreau explains that he "wanted a succession of genre pieces since they are also an integral part of the cello repertoire." He goes on to say that he "wanted to record a selection of them ranging from vocal transcription to virtuoso encore. With my faithful chamber music partner Pierre-Yves Hodique, we have often had fun punctuating our concerts and recitals with some of these pieces, and so it seemed obvious to us to feature these compositions that are always appreciated by the audience." In other words, the program comprises mainly brief, entertaining showpieces meant to highlight the talents of musicians. The beloved British conductor Sir Thomas Beecham might have called these selections bon-bons.

As it is, the program works pretty well. There is nothing here long enough to tax the patience of non or only mildly interested classical music listeners; the performers present the pieces in sterling interpretations; and Erato provide them pretty good sound. It's a winning combination, even if so many (seventeen tracks) short works (nothing over five or ten minutes each) may seem a bit spread out shotgun style for dedicated classical fans.

I think the main thing about all the performances on the disc is that Moreau and Hodique appear to be having a good time playing them. Not only are both artists meticulous virtuosos, they seem to love the music they're playing and love playing it together. Their musical partnership yields energetic, pleasurable, and technically satisfying results, the two performers continuously engaging in friendly instrumental dialogue and obvious good humor, even in the overtly sentimental tunes. The album is a good deal of fun.

Edgar Moreau

Since the music Moreau and Hodique have chosen is very popular and comes from just about everybody in the Romantic era and a little into the modern, let me point out just a few of the works I especially enjoyed. They begin with a genuine curtain-raiser in Vittorio Monti's Csardas, probably that composer's most-famous tune. Like the Hungarian dances that influenced it, the piece starts with a slow, poignant introduction, followed by a rousingly fast, Gypsy-inflected conclusion. The performers handle both segments with equal poise, bringing out the work's sentimental qualities and ending it in happy good cheer. Moreau's cello work sounds appropriately soulful and exhilarating by turns, and Hodique proves an able accompanist by matching but never overshadowing him at every turn.

And so it goes. Elgar's Salut d'amour sounds sweetly beguiling in Moreau's hands; Faure's Elegie is properly sad and wistful; Poulenc's Les Chemins de l'amour has all the qualities of a popular song in waltz time; Tchaikovsky's Valse sentimentale is satisfactorily melancholic; Popper's "Dance of the Elves" has a Mendelssohnian sparkle; Schubert's Ave Maria is as melodic as you'll hear; and the duo go out in style with Chopin's Introduction et Polonaise brillante. Then there are all the good things in between these numbers. The disc is a treat.

For the home listener, the question of how well Mr. Moreau might handle a longer, more-serious piece of music--a concerto or a sonata, for example--remains unanswered. But one thing is sure from listening to this album of short favorites: the man plays a mean cello.

Producers Alain Lanceron and Nicolas Bartholomee and mastering engineer Maximilien Ciup recorded the music at Salle Colonne, Paris, Eglise protestante Saint-Pierre in September 2013. It's one of the best-sounding discs I've heard from Erato. The two instrumentalists appear well positioned between the speakers. Both instruments are clear and detailed. Dynamic range, impact, and transient response are all suitable for the occasion. Moreover, air, bloom, room resonance, and dimensionality sound realistic enough to give the presentation an overall lifelike feeling. Nicely done, Erato.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click here:

Alexandre Tharaud: Autograph (CD review)

Bis-Encores. Alexandre Tharaud, piano. Erato 50999 934137 2 5.

French pianist Alexandre Tharaud has an extensive discography consisting of dozens of albums covering almost every major composer for the piano, including Bach, Chopin, Grieg, Poulenc, Ravel, Satie, Schubert, and a host of others but, oddly, no Beethoven. On this 2013 album Tharaud presents twenty-three short selections by various noted composers but, again, no Beethoven. He says the album, called Autograph and which he subtitles Bis-Encores, is a collection of music that sums up his repertoire and his career. Fair enough.

So, the album comprises mostly light, airy, Romantic, ethereal piano music. Maybe Tharaud sees himself as the gentle, thoughtful, sensitive type. It’s certainly not a bad way to go; although it doesn’t make the for the most-exciting of programs, it makes for beautiful listening, and Tharaud is as good at it as anyone could be at it. The material is light, airy, Romantic, and ethereal, as is the playing.

Let me give you a few examples. Tharaud begins the program with the Prelude in B minor by Bach, in an arrangement by Alexander Siloti. It has a beautifully straightforward simplicity that Tharaud executes with care. It's contemplative music at its best.

Next is the Romance sans paroles No. 3, Op. 17 by Gabriel Faure. It is lovely in its graceful lines, which Tharaud characterizes with loving care. After that is a bit of a pick-me-up with Rameau's rondo piece Les Sauvages, one of the livelier tunes on the album. Then there's Gluck's popular Dance of the Blessed Spirits, again arranged for piano by Siloti, in which Tharaud conveys a sweet and untroubled peace.

And so it goes, each little work a shining gem and, for the most part, a quiet oasis for relaxation and thought. Of course, there are also a few things like Rachmaninov's Prelude in C sharp minor No. 2, Op. 3, which in Tharaud's hands is not only powerful and dynamic but noble and exciting.

Lots of favorites: The ones I've already mentioned and also Chopin's Minute Waltz, always welcome; Saint-Saens's The Swain, always delightful; Chabrier's Feuillet d'album and Bizet's Adagietto, both enchanting; Poulenc's aptly named Melancolie; and Satie's seductively odd little Gymnopedie No. 3.

Tharaud closes the program with piece by Bach, the Andante from his Concerto in B minor, arranged for piano by Mr. Tharaud. It has a calm, tranquil tone reminiscent of Beethoven's later Moonlight Sonata, and Tharaud’s handling of it easily points up the similarities.

The fact is, Tharaud never attempts to dazzle the listener with his technical virtuosity. I suspect it's a case of been there, done that. Here, he is only trying to reveal a part of himself in music he loves and, obviously, loves to play. It is an enjoyable package.

Erato producer and balance engineer Cecile Lenoir recorded the music at the Salle Colonne, Paris, in 2013. The piano sounds warm and cozy, with a pleasing resonant bloom on the notes. Mr. Tharaud appears to be in a spacious environment miked from a moderately close distance. The results are clear yet rounded, detailed yet smooth and natural. It's a sound that appropriately fits the nature of the music.

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click here:

JJP

The Rascal and the Sparrow: Poulenc Meets Piaf (CD review)

Antonio Pompa-Baldi, piano. Steinway & Sons 30015.

This is another of those “theme” albums. Except the theme is a little nebulous. According to the record jacket, critic Claude Rostand described French pianist and composer Francis Poulenc (1899-1963) as “a lover of life, mischievous, bon enfant, tender and impertinent, melancholy and serenely mystical, half monk and half rascal.” A nightclub owner gave popular French singer Edith Piaf (1914-1963) the nickname “The Little Sparrow.” They were both French, both popular in their field, and roughly contemporaneous. On the present album Italian-American pianist Antonio Pompa-Baldi performs piano arrangements or elaborations of music by both musicians, and to very good effect. Especially when he plays them so well, so sensitively, so captivatingly.

If you’re not sure about Pompa-Baldi, he has over a dozen recordings to his credit, most of them for the Centaur label. In addition, he received third prize in 1998 at the Marguerite Long-Jacques Thibaud Competition in Paris, winning a special prize for the best interpretation of a contemporary work written for the competition (Tumultes by Serge Nigg). Later, after winning the 1999 Cleveland International Piano Competition, he won a silver medal at the eleventh Van Cliburn International Piano Competition in 2001, where he also received a prize for the best performance of a new work (Three Impromptus by Lowell Liebermann). After moving to the United States, he served on the piano faculty of the Oberlin College Conservatory of Music, and currently serves on the faculty of the Cleveland Institute of Music. He has been a Steinway Recording Artist since 2003, and now that the folks at Steinway & Sons are recording him on their own label, one hopes he’ll continue to get exposure.

The Rascal and the Sparrow contains twenty-seven short selections, seventeen written by Poulenc and ten taken from Piaf standards. Things start out with Poulenc’s “Les chemins de l’amour” (“Paths of My Love”), a delightful waltz tune you can hear in part below. It’s an attractive way to begin the program because the song is so delightful with its slightly melancholic tone and always lilting rhythms, done to perfection by Pompa-Baldi, who caresses every note. All of the tunes follow suit.

Poulenc's "Hommage a Edith Piaf" (Improvisation for piano No. 15 in C minor) is probably the most-obvious thematic connection between the two musicians, although no one knows if Poulenc and Piaf ever met. Pompa-Baldi's delicate, graceful style brings both musician’s music vividly to life.

The first of the Piaf arrangements (elaborated for piano by Italian pianist and composer Roberto Piana) is "Hymne a l'amour," again a beautiful rendition of a lovely song. And so it goes. These are love songs done in a grand yet gentle manner. Who could ask for more?

Among my favorites? Certainly, that opening number I described,“Les chemins de l’amour.” Then there's Piaf's "Un grand amour," "Mon dieu," the immortal "La vie en rose," and, of course, "Non, je ne regrette rien." They sound heavenly in Pompa-Baldi's hands, each a virtuosic tour de force. As for more Poulenc, there's the haunting "C" from Deux poemes de Louis Aragon, the Debussy-like "Le Pont" from Deus Melodies sur des poems de Guillaume Appolinaire, "Nos souvenirs chantent," "Le depart," and many more.

Pompa-Baldi offers up a bouquet of fragrant blossoms, and while every song is different, they combine to create a single, smooth-flowing stream of poignant melody. It's a captivating album.

Producer Dan Merceruio and engineer Daniel Shores recorded the album at Sono Luminus Studios, Boyce, Virginia, in April 2013. The sound is full and lush, with a wide dynamic range and a mild hall bloom to provide a realistic ambience. It's a little warmer and softer than some music might require, but for the French bonbons presented here, it seems perfect. There's an airy lightness enwrapped in the resonance that offers the music its own special charms. And those long, lingering decay times add to the leisurely nature of the songs.

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click here:

JJP

Poulenc: Concerto for 2 Pianos (CD review)

Also, Piano Concerto; Aubade. Francois-Rene Duchable, piano; Jean-Philippe Collard, piano; James Conlon, Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra. Warner Classics Apex 2564 62552-2.

Apex is a bargain line from Warner Classics, and you'll find a few gems among their releases, mostly culled from the Erato label. This one, for example, originally recorded in 1984, is well worth pursuing: three piano concertos from French composer and pianist Francis Poulenc (1899-1963).

For me, the highlight of the disc is the first item, the Concerto for 2 Pianos in D minor (1932). It is an entirely lightweight, festive affair, totally entertaining from start to finish. The first movement is wonderfully robust and sparkling; the slow second movement is a graceful tribute to Mozart, reminiscent of the "Romance" from his Piano Concerto No. 20; and the third movement is full of playful good cheer.

The simple Concerto for Piano (1949) follows, and it, too, is full of joy, meant only to entertain and to do so in robust style. It is only the Aubade (1929), a piano "concerto choregraphique," a piano concerto set to ballet, that gets in the least bit serious. Yet even here, the story of Diana, virgin goddess of the moon and the hunt, is hardly grave. It is scored for an accompaniment of eighteen players, mostly winds, and presents a largely delightful vision of mythology.

But as I say, I enjoyed the Concerto for 2 Pianos most of all, with its delightful interplay of piano parts beautifully executed by Francois-Rene Duchable and one of my favorite pianists, Jean-Philippe Collard, ably supported by James Conlon and the Rotterdam Philharmonic.

The recording is somewhat dry, but it has an excellent dynamic impact, good orchestral depth, and a fine, wide soundstage. Yes, the disc is worth pursuing for its excellent performances and its acceptable sound.

JJP