A fascinating disc.
Not only do we have a splendid performance
of Enescu’s infinitely suggestive and
malleable masterpiece Impressions
d’enfance but we also get a mini-tribute
to Arthur Hartmann, an important figure
in the later Debussy circle, whose arrangements
have enriched the repertoire for a century
or so now. And if that were not enough
we hear the remarkable, extraordinary,
strains of the luthéal – and
not any old luthéal either –
in Tzigane. Of that, more in a moment.
But let’s start with that Enescu.
Enescu wrote Impressions
d’enfance in his native Rumania
in 1940. It is a Joycean masterpiece
of colour and incident, a single day
in a child’s life recollected and compressed,
ranging from gypsy fiddlers, beggars
in the street, a shimmering water pool,
cuckoo clock and crepuscular fall of
night with its ominous storm. Enescu
premiered it with Lipatti in 1942. Beginning
with solo fiddle the work fuses sophisticated
impressionistic devices with rawer native
material – his Third Sonata is always
in the back of ones mind – but the influence
of Ravel and of Szymanowski is apparent
as well. The interior and the reflective
are established in the second section
and the high lying glint Enescu evokes
is notably Szymanowskian. Bird song
is summoned through harmonics and the
astounding sonorities that Enescu generates,
at once experimental and yet profoundly
rooted in violinistic lore and technical
expression, are captivating, narrative,
colour-laden and manage to be intensely
descriptive.
The Hartmann tribute
is well explored in Graffin’s own exceptionally
full and well illustrated booklet notes.
This is the kind of background biographical
material that illuminates an issue such
as this and gives it lasting force.
The American fiddle player first met
Debussy in 1908 and produced a series
of transcriptions, three of which are
here. The most famous is La fille
aux cheveux de lin transcribed in
1910 and here played with a languorous
expression that, whilst definitely slower,
reminded me more closely than any recording
or performance I’ve ever heard of Jacques
Thibaud’s immortally seductive and pain-flecked
78 of the 1920s. It’s that good – and
I never thought anyone would have the
sensitivity to go back to that tradition
and salute it in this way. Beau Soir
differs from the more familiar Heifetz
transcription and I prefer it. Graffin
and Claire Désert also take on
the late Sonata. They take a meditative
and subtle approach, one that relies
on delicate tracery and shifts of colour
and weight of bow pressure. From a slightly
italicised start Graffin employs a gamut
of fragile sounding wisps, fine diminuendi
and plenty of contrasts (not least in
the Intermède). Their approach
is measured and introspective and it
works on its own terms though I’m bound
to add that, whilst I appreciate their
view, it’s not one I find easy to accept.
A whole school of Franco-Belgian players
from Debussy’s time or immediately after
played this work entirely differently
and it’s a lost art. No one now plays
this sonata with the intense, febrile
animation of Thibaud, Alfred Dubois
or Francescatti. They were all quick
– around eleven and a half minutes,
all of them – and that quicksilver brittleness
seems to have leached out of chamber
playing of Debussy’s music in favour
of a rather conformist romanticism.
So I feel Graffin and Désert
can sound melodramatic and not dramatic
in the first movement where they can
amble and they don’t make the most of
the conjunctions and eruptions of the
finale, ones that the three performers
already cited so audibly did. Still,
you will find this broadly sympathetic
playing and should ignore my strictures.
What you can’t ignore though is Graffin’s
closely miked sniffing. This is especially
audible in this work where the anticipatory
sniff may well diminish your pleasure.
I’m pretty inured to such things, spending
a great deal of time with acoustic 78s,
but even I found it a liability.
The Ravel component
of the disc includes the early 1897
sonata, a delightful example of Fauré’s
influence and full of compact, elastic
lyricism. The duo manages to corral
the slight degree of formlessness and
play with real charm and élan.
Now for the luthéal in Tzigane.
This is something you must hear. There
have been examples of this instrument
on disc before, including a recording
of Tzigane by Daniel Hope and Sebastian
Knauer in
Hope’s album East Meets West.
Here however Désert plays the
same instrument Ravel used and the one,
now in the Museum of Modern Instruments
in Brussels, that Beveridge Webster
used when he and Samuel Dushkin gave
the world premiere performance of this
version, in October 1924 (the premiere
having been given of course by Jelly
d’Aranyi). The luthéal is a kind
of prepared piano and can imitate the
cimbalom through the use of special
stops. The Brussels machine is a half
size 1919 Pleyel – the Hope disc featured
a modern full size Steinway - and the
range of hallucinatory colours generated
is fantastic, at times like a guitar,
a harmonica, with the weirdest tick-tocking
sounds and much else. The performance
is comparatively lightly bowed and reflective.
Perhaps with the luthéal on board
it doesn’t need to be the heavy-duty
Ginette Neveu French style of Tzigane
playing.
So yes, a fascinating
disc. It’s not one I shall easily forget.
Maybe the sniffing will cause problems
on repeated listening and I part company
with some interpretative decisions.
But this is a disc brimming with dedication
and admirable engagement. The Enescu
is not the only version in the catalogue
but it’s played with charismatic intensity,
the Ravel is wonderfully different and
the Hartmann-Debussy a fine salute from
one violinist to another. This is a
multi-hued, multi-layered disc. Give
it a go.
Jonathan Woolf
Kevin Sutton
has also listened to this disc
Avie, by the sheer
consistent quality of their releases
is certain soon to become a major player
in the classical industry. We can only
hope that their release schedule, now
only a modest two or three discs per
month, will increase as their sales
go up.
This outstanding disc
of violin and piano works is sort of
a classical concept album, and it is
a concept that works perfectly. The
artists have chosen three composers
whose careers were interwoven, whose
styles have great similarity but are
at the same time strikingly original,
and whose music is as close to sheer
perfection as has been achieved since
Old Bach. And the sound of gypsy violinists,
whose unique and haunting music-making
appealed greatly to all three composers,
holds the musical program together.
Specifically, the recital
explores the composer’s relationships
with three violinists: Enescu himself,
Jelly d’Aranyi and Arthur Hartmann,
who in turn were greatly influenced
by the Hungarian gypsy fiddler Radicz
George Enescu, the
Romanian-born violinist, pianist, conductor
and composer was one of the most prodigious
talents of his time. He lived to witness
tremendous upheaval and revolution not
only in the world, but in music as well.
Classmates with Ravel, the two remained
lifelong friends. He also had an important
professional relationship with Bartók.
The programmatic Impressions d’enfance
is a musical depiction of a day in the
life of the composer as a child, recalled
in adult life. I have never met a work
by Enescu that I didn’t like and this
is no exception. Ten brief sections
long, the music is hauntingly evocative
of the moods and feelings that a child
might have had encountering a world
in which most everything was new. From
the sound of the gypsy fiddler, to sad
compassion for a poor beggar, this little
day trip is fascinating from the first
note.
Our duo plays with
intensity and empathy for both the characters
and the composer, and this is a strikingly
beautiful and brilliant performance.
Time though, to get
this thought out of the way: I have
said it before, and I will not stop
saying it until I eradicate this problem
from the musical earth. The violin -
and any other stringed instrument for
that matter - does not require
wind to make it sound. Mr. Graffin falls
victim to the horrid tendency of many
a violinist to sniff and snort with
the onset of every phrase. This wind
‘groping’ is audible in many of the
tracks. Contrary to what may be the
common wisdom in string studios the
world over, this habit is not
artistic. It is pretentious and annoying,
and does not serve the music in any
way other than to draw needless attention
to the player. If you are "artistic
and passionate" it will show in
your playing. We do not need to have
your every inhalation documented for
posterity. Was that too strong?
Now, let us return
to the rest of the program and its superb
performances.
Composed for the Hungarian
violinist Jelly d’Aranyi, the Tzigane,
was first scored for violin and
the luthéal, an instrument
that was invented by Belgian George
Cloetens. It is mounted inside a smallish
Pleyel grand piano with a particularly
intimate sound, and the attachment produces
a tone very similar to a hammered dulcimer.
Ravel attempted to use the instrument
in the orchestrated version of the Tzigane,
but he was unable to make it heard
over the orchestra. The original luthéal
for which Ravel composed survives in
Brussels’ Musical Instrument Museum
and was used for this recording.
The Sonata, not to
be confused with the famous jazz-influenced
work from 1929, was only discovered
in 1975 and is of a quite different
character than its Gershwinesque successor.
Both works receive
superb performances, passionately played,
beautifully phrased. These two musicians
were born to play together; their sympathy
for each other as an ensemble is uncanny.
Graffin’s lush, even lusty tone is well
matched by Désert’s fleet fingers.
Never outshining the other, they are
a true duo, and their music-making is
perfectly enthralling.
To conclude the program,
Graffin and Desert take us through a
journey of Debussy’s complete works
for violin and piano, three of which
are transcriptions by the violinist
Arthur Hartmann, whom Debussy greatly
admired, and for whom the Sonate
was written. The song transcriptions
came to be favored over their originals
by the composer. The only strange one
is Beau soir, whose melody differs
greatly from the original song, although
it is also quite recognizable.
Again, the performances
are nearly flawless throughout. Perhaps
what struck me most is just how well
Graffin and Désert are able,
without the benefit of words, to conjure
up such vivid images. These are all
very atmospheric, moody, thought-provoking
works of art, and if perhaps the listener
is not in the same dream world as the
musicians, so be it. They manage to
take us off to a realm of wonder that
is pure joy to experience.
As usual, Avie’s production
values are of the highest order. Excellent,
thorough and fascinating program notes,
beautiful packaging and a concept that
is above reproach. This is a must-have
for all lovers of violin playing. Buy
it soon, and prepare to be transported,
transmuted, transfixed and transfigured!
Kevin Sutton
The
Avie Catalogue
Phillipe Graffin (violin) 
