While I might deliver
some scathing remarks about this CD, readers should know that
I have been a flautist myself ever since giving up the recorder
at the age of nine. I like to think I can be objective, but,
like the crusading ‘smoker who has given up smoking’ I realise
it is difficult to be just that about performances of pieces
one has had under one’s skin for donkeys years. I promise not
to spit the pips out of too many sour grapes.
Laurel Zucker is
a superb flautist. I was a little dubious about the hype, but
her reputation is well established and deserved, and both students
and casual listeners will find much to learn from and enjoy
in her technique and musicianship. I appreciate her usually
tasteful vibrato, find little to fault with her phrasing, and
am impressed by her dynamic range and articulation, although
not every run is as cleanly negotiated as one might expect.
This is very much an album of core repertoire, and while I’m
not disputing Zucker’s virtuosity, I would love to hear her
try - for instance - Malcolm Arnold’s Fantasy for solo flute.
The Prokofiev is
far and away the most demanding piece here, and she and her
able accompanist perform with more élan than - for example -
Jiri Valek and Josef Hala (Supraphon). The balance is the biggest
problem for me here. Almost a stereotype of what we might expect
from an American flautist recorded in the early 1990s, Zucker
has the microphone fairly close to her nose by the sound of
it, and her brilliant sound can be close to painful in the high
registers, even at low volume. This is ‘power flute’ combined
with microphone settings which have taken no account of the
flute’s third octave forward acoustic peak, so I don’t recommend
headphone listening. At times it sounds like a VERY BIG flute
on top of a piano which is halfway down the orchestra pit. In
the second movement the piano gets a bit of a boost. The engineer
seems to have had the chance to get some coffee and twiddle
a few knobs by then - or they managed to fix the stage lift
- but unfortunately some of the low staccato detail in the flute
occasionally becomes lost as a result. Painful highs remain
– rearing an ugly head at regular intervals.
I shouldn’t be too
unfair about the recording. Both instruments are placed in a
nice resonant acoustic – not overly swimmy, but complimentary
to both the players and the repertoire. I note that Zucker plays
a Powell instrument in this recording, but has gone over to
a Muramatsu in some later albums. I don’t play what my old teacher
Gareth Morris calls the flute ‘game’ – switching head-joints
and instruments in a never-ending search for a perfection which
ultimately comes from oneself, not ones tools – but listening
to this I can appreciate why Ms Zucker changed. There is a great
deal of brilliance here, but less depth than I would want for
myself.
My one big criticism
of this CD may or may not stem from this. What I miss is a narrative
quality. For me, these pieces always tell a story. It will be
a slightly different story each time, depending on how one feels,
the weather, the hall, the audience; but each time the imagination
will be taken on some kind of journey. The Poulenc is a case
in point. Poulenc’s Sonata is almost like a song cycle for the
flute. One can imagine all kinds of associations at every point
in the piece – little fragments of language, the conversation
between piano and flute, the eloquent pleading and the strident
protest – they’re all there, and this is where a player like
Rampal wins over Zucker. With this recording I get lots of flute
- sometimes too much - with just enough piano, but while I’m
engaged by the playing, I’m not really involved with the music.
Debussy’s Syrinx,
a piece which everyone knows how to play better than anyone
else, is less disadvantaged in this regard. Laurel Zucker proves
herself capable of a great deal of colour and variety in this
work. She only spoils it slightly by sagging a little at the
ends of some long notes, and making a meal of the last five-note
descending motive – a moment for emptiness and despair rather
than ‘le joli son’ if ever there was one.
Both players get
stuck into the Chaminade Concertino with gusto, and given
its origins as an exam piece for the Paris Conservatoire this
suits the aims and title of this album down to the ground. I
am used to more notes in the accompaniment here and there, but
then, my mate Johan the piano (as opposed to Johan the accordion
- I also have a daughter called Darcie whose best friend is
another girl called Darcy – welcome to my world of confusion)
has a tendency to ‘orchestrate’ à la Horowitz - or possibly
even Stokowski - at the piano, so I can’t really accuse Robin
Sutherland of ‘wimping out.’
At fifty minutes
we might have expected one or two more choice nuggets from the
flute repertoire here, but I suppose I shouldn’t grumble. It’s
the best demo disc I’ve heard for long time.
Dominy Clements
Laurel Zucker (flute)
