On 09/01/2015 12:11, Christopher Webber wrote:
> I'm now looking forward to sitting down and actually listening to this
> beautifully presented set!
I've finished my 4-CD odyssey. Briefly, the piano sounds great, the
pianist Jean-Louis Haguenauer is excellent, and the recording is
natural, full and balanced. It's like having the 1905 Blüthner in the
room with you, and it does indeed prove the perfect instrument for these
songs.
We get 101 tracks, over 40 more than the previous 'intégrale' (EMI
1980's) and the new additions to the canon include the two, late 'Nuits
blanches' songs which were only rediscovered in 2000 (though they have
been recorded before) as well as differing versions of several examples
of songs which were wholly or partly rewritten. There are not many
'world premiere recordings' here, but there are a few: and the overall
quality of these songs, even the early ones, is of course breathtaking.
You'll guess what the catch is. It's no surprise that the singers can't
match the Ninon Vallin's, Mary Garden's, Pierette Alarie's or Gerard
Souzay's of the past. That would have been too much to ask. But in
different ways, all five have technical defects which makes listening
more uncomfortable than it should be. The tenor and baritone (Gilles
Ragon and Francois Le Roux) are of course vastly experienced artists,
elder statesmen of French singing. They make up in interpretative depth
much - or in Le Roux's case, pretty much all - of what they've lost in
suppleness, power and steadiness.
The mezzo (Marie-Ange Todorovitch) is also a commanding singer whose
voice has become plummy and cumbersome at the top: and rather curiously
she's given the three delicate 'Bilitis' songs, which suit her less well
than many of the later songs might have done. The sopranos - Liliana
Faraon marginally more lightweight, and mainly therefore consigned to
the very early songs, Magali Léger more lyric and with a greater range
of colours in the voice - are both perfectly acceptable, though both are
prone to a little squalliness in the upper reaches, and Léger's is not
ideally supported in the middle of her range. Interpretatively neither
are as compelling as their male colleagues, though their voices are
certainly in better shape.
Technically the most secure singing comes from the boy treble who sings
the very last song Debussy wrote, a piece of wartime propaganda about
homeless children at Christmas which he does marvellously. There's an
Easter Egg, too - after that 101st track we have an undocumented bonus
one, with the treble (touchingly) repeating the unaccompanied 'Berceuse'
(1899) with which Le Roux rounded off CD3.
Because of the variable vocal security throughout, this can only be
recommended as a "reference" edition to supplement recitals you might
already have. But for anyone interested in Debussy, and his development
as a song writer, it remains a must-buy for its completeness,
presentation - and sensitive pianism.