This album that asserts that it comprises the first
recordings of 34 Hahn songs (wrongly for two are available on Hyperion)
can be purchased on its own. Alternatively you can buy it as part of
Maguelone’s 3 CD set of Reynaldo Hahn works including the Violin Sonata,
Piano Quintet, Piano Concerto, Violin Concerto and Suite Hongroise.
Reynaldo Hahn composed 125 songs and almost 100 of
them have now been recorded after too many years’ neglect. Their charm,
elegance and sophistication belie a former received image of Hahn as
a sophisticated dandy, doyen of the Paris salons during La Belle
Époque, and creator of unremarkable even facile music.
Baritone, Didier Henry mixes just the right
amount of sophisticated worldly ennui and regretful nostalgia in his
renderings of the eleven songs that comprise Feuilles blessées.
These are so full of nostalgia for things gone by as are the Neuf
mélodies. Stéphane Petitjean provides the most subtle,
delicate, spontaneous-seeming, sympathetic accompaniments throughout
this recital.
A golden nostalgic glow covers the songs of Feuilles
blessées (Wounded leaves) begun in Paris in 1901. In the
opening song ‘Dans le ciel est dressé le chêne séculaire’,
the majesty of the age-old oak is proclaimed in a peroration that is
soon mitigated in the sadness of memories recalled like fallen leaves.
This mood is sustained through ‘Quand reviendra l’automne’ expressing
in hushed emotional and confidential tones. These are the sorts of memory,
lost and regained, that were so dear to Hahn’s friend Proust. A more
overt, more passionate melody with a strong assertive piano part is
heard in ‘Quand je viendrai m’asseoir’. It contrasts with the exquisite
‘Eau printanière’ with the piano delicately tracing the Spring
waters while the vocal line reminisces quietly, ruefully. Equally enchanting
is the languishing ‘Pendant que je médite’. But all eleven mélodies
captivate the ear.
Neuf mélodies retrouvées were
rediscovered by René Schrameck and published by Salabert in 1955
nine years after the composer’s death. They embrace a multitude of ideas
and feelings. There is the fleeting tenderness of Je me souviens,
one of Hahn’s most haunting melodies with its sighing Amen-like final
chord. The amiability and enthusiasm of the piano part underlines the
singer’s heartfelt cry La vie est belle. Both Naïs and
La Nymphe de la Source are enraptured, enamoured evocations
of the spirit world in which cool springs seem to glisten in dappled
sunshine. The simple but charming melody that is Au Rossignol
pays homage to the enchanting song of the nightingale.
Catherine Dune sings the two cycles of songs in the
English language. This she does both expressively and with sympathy
to the salon sentimentality of Mary Robinson’s (Mme Emile Duclaux) Love
Without Wings. ‘Ah could I clasp thee in my arms’, is a most imaginative
setting that, with its silence following an introductory exclamation
and an affecting finale "at the back of the throat", gently
mocks contemporary society soirées. ‘I know you love me not’
is just as interesting with its almost recitative vocal line over words
like "I know you love me not…" until the more passionate lyrical
release of the final two lines: "I haunt you like the magic of
a poet…And charm you like a song". Oh for the wings of a dove
is an impassioned plea for the soul’s release against agitated arpeggios.
Catherine Dune is equally sympathetic and not at all
condescending (an attitude so essential in singing the rather twee ‘My
Ship and I’ and ‘A good boy’) in the fragile nature of Hahn’s enchanting
settings of Robert Louis Stevenson’s childhood verses, the piano part
evoking playful rhythms for ‘The Swing’ and the galloping horseman of
‘Windy Nights’. The most impressive song is ‘The Stars’ with its vibrant,
close-textured strumming in the piano suggests a multitude of close-knit
stars. The beauty of the vocal line at the climactic lines: "But
the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes And the stars going round
in my head" is also notable.
Dune also sings two melodies from the incidental music
Hahn composed for Maurice Magré’s Méduse based
on the Greek tragedy. Chanson au bord de la fontaine (Song near
the fountain) is a soulful lament of troubled love (sung despairingly
with beautiful control over a sparse halting piano) while in ‘Danse,
petit sirène’ the piano part quietly scintillates as the singer
warns that the siren’s "eyes are inconstant as the sea." Some
film music concludes Dune’s contribution – from La Dame aux Camélias
- with the rather more overtly melodic ‘Mon rêve était
d’avoir un amant confiant, soumis, discret’ (My dream was to have a
trusting, submissive and discreet lover), and the joyful, outgoing "Ou’s
qu’y a d’bell’s fill’s" (Where the pretty girls are) with its catchy
refrain – C’est à Paris, c’est à Paris ma fille, c’est
à Paris!
An important premiere recording of over 30 songs, many
quite exquisite. These prove that Reynaldo Hahn was much more than a
dandy and darling of the Paris salons through La belle Époque.
Ian Lace
Catherine Dune (soprano)
Didier Henry (baritone)