The American pianist
Paul Kim, whose complete survey of the piano works of Olivier
Messiaen was completed in 2004, studied at Juilliard and the
Manhattan School of Music. It was during his student days that
he first encountered the Catalogue d’oiseaux, and as
a result of widely acclaimed performances he came to the attention
of the composer, from whom he received guidance and encouragement.
Yvonne Loriod described Kim’s performances on these recordings
as “perfect in every way: technique, sonorities, rhythm, colours
and emotion.”
Much as I would
like to approach this review without the tainting influence
of the Barrington-Coupe/Concert Artists fraud, in which this
particular recording of the Vingt Regards was passed
off as the work of Joyce Hatto, it is impossible to avoid making
reference to this scandal. The only positive aspect of the case
has, I hope, been to bring Paul Kim’s cycle to a wider audience
– at least the publicity can do him and the Centaur label no
harm. As a reviewer, all I can hope to do is put the record
straight – no pun intended.
As Christopher Howell
has pointed out in his review
of the Dukas Sonata, part of the Concert Artist’s fake involved
manipulating the speed of the originals and the balance of the
piano sound. I’ve had lots of ‘fun’ getting the two versions
to synchronise, albeit only momentarily as phasing sets in immediately,
and can at least confirm that they are indeed the same recordings.
The ‘Hatto’ sound has been cut at a higher level, and the piano
given some bass boost and a warmer balance, possibly to give
more of the impression of an older instrument, although I note
that the fake makes no attempt to claim the instrument is anything
other than a Steinway. The tighter, less blowsy sound of the
original creates an even more spectacular effect; and the build
up of tension in such pieces as the incredible Par Lui tout
a été fait will have you climbing the walls with even whiter
knuckles. As things stand I don’t really care who is playing,
this is still ‘the one’ for me.
Paul Kim is a recognised
exponent of your heavy romantics like Rachmaninov, and the penny
drops in his phrasing and lyrical expressiveness in movements
like Regard de la Croix. I don’t have Yvonne Loriod’s
recordings to hand, but on referring to the scraps I do have
in my collection, such as her ‘Cetti’s Warbler’ from the Catalogue
which crops up as a filler on an old Supraphon LP of ‘Réveil
des oiseux’ with the Czech Phil. conducted by Václav Neumann,
I gain the impression that Kim’s interpretations are in general
fairly close to the composer’s wife’s – a wise decision. Another
recording to which I hadn’t referred previously, but managed
to beg and borrow for a short time ‘post Hatto’ is that of Pierre-Laurent
Aimard on Teldec. I would say Kim and Aimard are about equal
if this were a competition in virtuosity and recorded sound,
but for the rest I can only say it’s a case of swings and roundabouts.
Aimard has the advantage of innate Frenchness and that prodigiously
dazzling technique, but Kim’s sense of space and timelessness
might just give him the edge on the spirituality stakes. His
own programme notes are a real bonus: extensive, eminently readable
but also fearlessly analytical and comprehensive, reflecting
their author’s Ph.D status.
More or less ignorant
of the Hatto ‘phenomenon’ before receiving the faked discs last
year, I wasn’t particularly starry-eared about the achievements
of a little old Miss Marple producing pianistic miracles in
the Indian summer of her career. As a result I don’t have the
feeling that my objectivity was particularly skewed in favour
of this recording as ‘a Hatto original’. Arguably, my review
might have been different had I received it only as Kim, but
listening again and comparing notes, I find myself agreeing
with myself. “Sure thing” you say, “he would say that, otherwise
he’d look like an idiot and lose his reputation into the bargain.”
Well, I’m used to looking an idiot on a frequent basis in at
least one of my day jobs, and as far as reviewing goes I don’t
have much of a reputation to loose to start with, so, in the
end, who cares – I just feel saddened and perturbed at having
been taken to the cleaners in the first place.
Whatever the arguments,
here is an adapted version of my original review, the words
now finding their true resting place:
Olivier Messiaen’s
Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus has just about everything:
virtuosic pianism, mystic beauty, demands from and rewards for
the listener in an elusive balance to which listeners will always
have an intense and powerful response. Rarely have I heard such
powerful and athletic as well as poetic pianism in this music
as in this recording by Paul Kim.
A number of versions
of this great work have passed through my CD player but only
two versions currently remain, neither of which will be easy
to find, for which my apologies – John Ogdon, recorded in 1969
and issued on Decca’s Enterprise label in 1991, and Malcolm
Troup, recorded in the late 1980s on Altarus/Continuum. Ogdon’s
recording still sounds fairly good despite some expected tape
hiss, though the hard piano sound in the louder sections can
be a little tiring after a while. The meditative opening Regard
du Père and the lovely Regard de la Vierge are both
broad and timeless with Ogdon, and his definition and characterisation
of the different symbolism-laden themes has to my mind rarely
been surpassed. I do like the Malcolm Troup recording on its
own terms though have to hold my hand up to some sentimental
association with it, having sat in on one or two of the editing
sessions with Chris Rice of Altarus, and remember seeing the
‘Church window’ mock-up used to make the cover photo parked
in his garage. The piano sound on this issue is remarkably rich
and gorgeously resonant, and while there are some corners where
detail and accuracy are slightly wanting Troup has a fine touch
in general. Returning to this set after hearing Kim’s however,
I do now find some of the interpretations a little on the heavy,
sometimes almost leaden side.
Having one’s old
favourites blown away by a newcomer is what this job is all
about, and I find myself rediscovering this music completely
and utterly. It’s as if someone was not only giving me a master-class
in how it should be done technically, but revealing the message
behind the notes at the same time. One of the more difficult
movements to bring off, L’échange is a case in point.
Other versions can end up too insistent, with the repeated thirds,
the ‘God’ figure, ending up sounding like nagging, rather than
an infinite length of silken rope, constantly drawing the increasingly
egocentric ‘Man’ back to the centre. When you hear Kim it is
Man who is ultimately drawn into unity with the Devine being,
rather than ‘God’ driving him to leap off a cliff in sheer frustration.
Another straightforward but surprisingly intangible quality
is that Kim’s birdsong sounds to me more like birdsong than
pianism. The ‘joy’ which the birds represent in Regard du
Fils sur le Fils comes over as a hair-raising truth, rather
than a technical challenge.
Paul Kim does of
course have more than ample opportunity to reveal a staggering
technique in the more heavyweight movements, such as Par
Lui tout a été fait and La Parole toute puissante in
which he always maintains transparency through the sheer mass
of notes. His control; rhythmic and dynamic, is absolute, but
there is no sense in which the sheer abandon of this music is
in any way repressed – it’s a wild ride, and rightly so!
There is no point
in this set where I raised eyebrows or scratched chin in puzzlement,
and the recording itself is of demonstration quality – you can
sometimes actually feel the strings bending. Each interpretation
of this work has its own merits, but there are few which betray
no weaknesses. Kim’s reading is rich both in images and emotional
associations: the indignation of the Angels in Regard des
Anges is a genuine marvel, and the following Baiser de
l’Enfant-Jésus tender beyond words. It is also a traversal,
a journey, a narrative – a cycle which is more than the sum
of its parts, which parts in turn simultaneously hold strength
in both unity and individuality. The incredible final Regard
de l’Eglise d’amour is both a struggle and an affirmation,
and we are spared nothing. If you play this set through in one
go and are listening properly you will arrive at the conclusion
exhausted, exhilarated and inspired, and I can’t imagine Messiaen
would have wanted more.
Dominy Clements
for
details
Paul Kim (piano)
