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.

Lang Lang: Saint-Saëns

by Bill Heck

Saint-Saëns: Carnival of the Animals, Piano Concerto No. 2; Ravel: Pavane pour une infante defunte; Debussy: Petite Suite 71; Fauré: In paradisium; Delibes: Delibes: Lakmé: Flower Duet; Saint-Saëns: Toccata after the Fifth Concerto (from Six Études pour piano op. 111); Fauré: Pavane op. 50; Farrenc: Étude No. 10; Sohy: Song without Words; Tailleferre: Valse lente; Bonis: The Little One Falls Asleep; Boulanger: Of a Bright Garden; Saint-Saëns: The Swan. Lang Lang, Gina Alice (pianos); Gewandhaus Orchestra; Andris Nelsons, conductor.  DG 5058

Based on an admittedly very small sample, it seems that DG is interested in producing events as much as producing recordings. I suppose that’s their business, and but my curmudgeonly side is, shall we say, a little jaded.

There’s no doubt that Lang Lang is a musical superstar, and I suppose that it’s natural for DG to be trading on that fame. Thus, you can find video sections from the Carnival of the Animals on YouTube and, at least on streaming sources, hear a version of the Carnival with the movements interspersed with accompanying verses originally written by Ogden Nash; here they are read by Jimmy Fallon. And the “exciting audio-visual project” (DG’s words) extends to a concert film of the Piano Concerto made live in concert at Leipzig’s Gewandhaus  and a performance film of the Carnival to be shown on TV internationally and on DG’s video streaming service, STAGE+. Meanwhile, for true collectors, this set is available in multiple versions: LP, signed “crystal” (clear plastic) LP, signed CD set, plain old CD set, and downloads in several resolutions, plus streaming on DG’s own service. Whew!

The promotion continues in the booklet that accompanies the CD: the cover is dominated by a photo of Lang Lang, eyes closed as he blissfully sniffs a flower. The next page shows a hand shot, then we see a repetition of the flower photo, then a close-up of Lang Lang’s head resting on a keyboard, then of him and his wife and co-artist, Gina Alice, embracing, and… Well, you get the idea. The text of the booklet does have some information about the works along with sometimes gushing explanations of why Lang Lang chose the particular works included.

But the premise of the album is odd. The notes tell us that this is a voyage of discovery, but the Saint-Saëns Second Concerto, which we are told is something of a neglected masterpiece, is perhaps the composer’s most frequently recorded, while the Carnival surely is Saint-Saëns’s most popular work. The idea of discovery seems more plausible when referring to the miniature solo pieces, of which more anon.So what about the music found here: are these performances to be recommended? Well, it seems to me a mixed bag. To begin with, there is the recording itself. The sonic presentation greatly emphasizes the pianos, which are up front and, even accounting for the fact that there are two of them, appear unnaturally wide. Meanwhile, the orchestra is a good way farther back on the stage. The resulting imbalance makes both the Carnival and the Concerto into works for piano with orchestral accompaniment rather than real partnerships.

Camille Saint-Saëns

And then there’s the playing. There are plenty of passages in which Lang Lang’s complete mastery of his instrument comes through, with precision of touch and lovely tone. But the interpretations mostly left me thinking of Lang Lang rather than of carnivals, animals, Saint-Saëns, or the exchange between soloists and orchestra. For example, the Carnival is supposed to be a bit of musical fun; indeed, Saint-Saëns would not allow it to be published during his lifetime for fear that it’s perceived frivolity would damage his reputation. But, to cite two examples, the lion depicted in the first movement doesn’t seem very ferocious, and the fourth movement’s elephant, which should be humorously harrumphing, just ambles along in a nondescript way. The Swan (number thirteen) is the one movement that Saint-Saëns did allow to be published in his lifetime, and it  is a lovely miniature. If you hear it on this album, you certainly will be impressed – but if you hear it on, say, our own JJP’s recommended performance (Previn/Pittsburgh), you will be swept away by the sheer beauty, with the voice of the cello soaring above the perfectly balanced piano, not the other way around. The performance of the Concerto is in much the same vein: extraordinary in spots but facing stiff competition. (JJP recommends those by Jean Philip Collard on Warner, Stephen Hough on Hyperion, and Chamayou on Erato). In totality, this one leaves me feeling that the current production is just another version – and again, independently of interpretation, there’s the issue of the imbalance between soloist and orchestra.

Earlier, I mentioned the other short solo pieces on the album. Most were not composed by Saint-Saëns, but I won’t quibble about their relation to the title: these are, at least for me, the most interesting pieces here. While the first few are by familiar composers, including Debussy and Fauré, with the remainder we hear little-known works by little-known female composers. These, not the far better known earlier pieces, are the ones more appropriately described as the advertised “discoveries”. While each of these works has been recorded elsewhere, having them on an album that is sure to receive major publicity and high availability is a good thing. Lang Lang’s playing here is expressive; some may find it over the top, but that’s a matter of taste. My only real complaint here goes back to that booklet: each of these works receives a single sentence. Surely an album of discovery should devote a little more space to the works most plausibly thought of as needing to be unearthed.Where does all this leave us? For “us,” readers of this review, who likely have some familiarity with classical music and who are looking primarily for recordings that they will enjoy on musical and sonic terms, my instinct is to say move along, nothing to see here. But if the superstar project approach generates excitement, or even a modicum of interest, among the wider public and brings others into the classical music fold, can that be all bad? We'll see how it goes.

Dvořák: Cello Concerto et al. (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, B. 191; Klid (Silent Woods), Op. 68, B 182; Rondo in G minor, Op. 94, B. 181; Romance in F minor, Op. 11B. 39;  Mazurek in E minor, Op. 49, B. 90. Zara Nelsova, cello; Ruggiero Ricci, violin; St. Louis Symphony Orchestra; Walter Susskind, conductor VOX-NX-3034CD

Antonin Dvořák’s Cello Concerto is a work that is dear to many music lovers. It is filled with beautiful melodies that appeal to both the head and the heart, making it one of those pieces that can serve as a wonderful way to introduce those unfamiliar with classical music into its spellbinding realm. When I received this recording for review, I tried to remember which recording if the work I had first acquired back in the mid-1970s when I began to become seriously interested in classical music, but drew a blank. However, I vividly remember hearing the work in concert. It was March 31, 1976. One of my professors, who was going to be unable to attend the Utah Symphony Orchestra concert at which the legendary cellist Mstislav Rostropovich (1927-2007) was scheduled to perform the Dvořák, and knowing of my burgeoning passion for classical music, had kindly given my wife and me his tickets. 

Shortly before the concert, however, Rostropovich fell ill and had to cancel, so another legendary cellist stepped in at the last minute, Gregor Piatigorsky (1903-1976). Although he sounded a bit rusty and fumble-fingered in some of the early passages, his playing in the tender moments of the second movement was beautiful, and seeing his interactions with the concertmaster was like watching chamber musicians playing a duet. Since that night, the Dvořák concerto has retained a special place in my heart. Sadly, that performance turned out to be the final public performance of Maestro Piatigorsky, who passed away a mere eight months later in November, 1976.

 

The recording sessions for this release took place in May, 1974, which was while I was still serving in the Army. My classical LP collection at that time consisted of Beethoven’s 5^th and 9^th, Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, Mahler’s 1^st and 4^th, and a Bach organ recital. I may have had the Dvořák 9^th, but can’t recall for sure. I certainly didn’t have his Cello Concerto. But back in May of 1974, the cellist Zara Nelsova (1918-2002) made this recording with Maestro Susskind and the SLSO. Nelsova was born in Winnipeg, Canada to Russian-Jewish parents who had named her Sara Katznelson; however, for professional reasons she had decided to change to a more Russian-sounding name – Zara Nelsova. She lived in the UK for a time (championing the Elgar concerto before Du Pré), served on the Juilliard faculty for decades, and built a highly successful career as a cellist. Her performances of the Cello Concerto, Silent Woods, and the Rondo in G minor are worthy to be mentioned in the company of the more familiar “star power” names. These are performances of lyrical expression and effortless mastery, ably augmented by the sound of the orchestra. 

 

Silent Woods is an especially striking piece of music with which many music lovers may be unfamiliar. If you have not yet heard it, please give it a listen – you will not regret it. But that is not to diminish the Rondo, which is also lovely. The program concludes with two works for violin and orchestra from earlier in the Dvořák catalog featuring as soloist the late American violinist Ruggiero Ricci (1918-2012). The Romance, as you might expect, tugs at the heartstrings with some singing melodic lines, while the Mazurek is lively and dancelike. Both are uplifting and charged with energy.

Finally,a few words about the engineering. Many music lovers no doubt remember Vox, who produced many excellent budget recordings that provided a gateway into the world of classical music for those of us with limited means. Recently, Naxos obtained the rights to the original master tapes that Elite Recordings made for the Vox label decades ago. Appearing on the back cover of these new “Vox Audiophile Edition” versions is a highlighted statement affirming that “The Elite recordings for Vox legendary producers Marc Aubort and Joanna Nickrenz are considered by audiophiles to be among the finest sounding orchestral recordings.” For these reissues, Naxos engineers have taken those tapes from the vaults and carefully prepared these CDs for release, the end product of their labors being what they describe as “new192 kHz / 24-bit high definition transfers of the original Elite Recordings analogue master tapes.” Elite Recordings knew what they were doing in St. Louis, and Naxos has taken great care in their mastering process; as a result, this is a truly fine-sounding CD. Great music + excellent performances + fine sound = strong recommendation.