This is a welcome set of two CDs containing a pair of splendid
and highly individualistic and atmospheric sacred choral works
by François Couperin; they are otherwise unavailable in the current
catalogue. That fact, as well as the high quality of the musicianship
on this Syrius release, makes this a pair of CDs to be snapped
up without waiting.
Couperin was an
organist. When only 22 years old he gained the position of organist
at St. Gervais in Paris after Michel Richard Delalande - probably
Couperin's teacher. Unsurprisingly, the organ is prominent in
these two performances. The organ of the Basilique du Couvent
Royal of St-Maximin is played with an unmistakably extrovert yet equally
sensitive gusto by Pierre Bardon.
Throughout the two masses the organ alternates
with plainchant. The chant is sung with equal enthusiasm by
the six male-voice Ensemble Vox Cantoris. At first hearing this
may be an odd arrangement - somewhat like the intersection of
voice and instrument in some contemporary conceptions of much
earlier music: the organ does not accompany the voices. Indeed,
although the rather brief essays in the CDs' booklet do not
say as much, the fact that the there were two different recording
dates even suggests that the finished product might have been
spliced from two different undertakings: one in the organ's
location (St-Maximin) and one at La Réole, Gironde, four months
later.
Whether or not this is the case does not
detract from the impact of the music. It's grand, has great
dignity, depth and beauty; the Offertoire [[CD1 tr.16],
for example, stands its own in majesty with much that Bach wrote,
almost. There are moments where rhetoric (in the Gloria of
the Messe des Paroisses, for example) impress us as much
as the melody does. Yet moments later (in the Domine Deus
[CD1 tr.10] after the Benedicamus te [CD1 tr.8], for
example) the almost vernacular idiom and rhythms of the organ,
which becomes much more closely integrated with the plainchant,
brings everything back to earth quite unceremoniously. The sinuous
and delicate lines of the plainchant are never neglected or
overshadowed - even when the organ passages alternate more rapidly
with them, as in the "Dialogue sur la Trompette du Grand
Clavier" of the Messe des Couvents's Kyrie
[CD2 tr.5], for example.
Happily, both organist and singers have
fully understood the way these relationships should work; this
recording is rich in both formality and humanity. Those were
surely the keys to the French Baroque. Amazingly for his age,
Couperin clearly knew how not only to balance the claims of
liturgical (and textual) integrity and feeling - in the music,
harmonies, variations in dynamic and texture. But also to achieve
such a balance without sacrificing the richness of the listener's
- and, presumably the performer's or celebrant's - experience.
This is in a tradition that was picked up again most notably
by Messiaen in our own times.
The remarkable achievement of this performance
and recording is to have arrived at a blend suitable for our
sensibilities (neither dry, nor showy) yet respecting the economy
and aspirations to a kind of classical purity, almost, to which
it's clear Couperin subscribed - and was able to execute so
effortlessly.
It's through variety, restraint, focus and
forward momentum that Bardon and Ensemble Vox Cantoris do so
closely and successfully reproduce what Couperin surely wanted.
They play with a complete lack of self-consciousness and commitment
to the heart, not the sound, of the music. To do this is perhaps
a slight risk when the music relies as heavily on sequence -
as this music does. Nevertheless one feels in strong and sure
hands throughout the two performances. The musicians under Candau
also celebrate the contrasts: both within each mass and between
the two. As Messe des Paroisses is outward-looking, worldly,
so Messe des Couvents is mystical. The consistency of
a solemn and measured approach to the Messe des Couvents
makes a wonderful contrast to the more ceremonial tone with
which the Messe des Paroisses unfolds.
The assuredness and gravitas of the playing
of each somehow subtly suggests that contrast; but it also provides
a tangible rationale for accepting the music in its own right
- wherever it unfolds, no matter how unfamiliar we may be with
the music.
Mark Sealey
