The voice of this lovely singer is now in its freshest full bloom. These years, the early middle period, of a singer's career ought to be cherished and relished like the fine days of our fickle summer. Yet we have an ungrateful way of passing them over with a forward look towards the things of autumn, the mellow fruitfulness of the mature interpreter, the ripeness of art that knows all shades of expression from the most playful to the most profound. Listening to this record, I find the critical habit urging me on to commit this kind of folly. In the very first song, Dowland's Come again, one is already preparing to go and look for Janet Baker's record (HMV HQS1091, 7/67); in Liszt's Die drei Zigeuner the ineffaceable memory of Schwarzkopf interposes. And it is true: there are limitations to the success of this delightful record. By comparison with Schwarzkopf there is something passive and underlit about the story-telling in that song; just as Baker's exceptionally strong projection and rhythmic vitality make von Stade's singing of Conte again seem placidly hymn-like, wanting sharpness of flavour (and sometimes of consonant also). There is a limit, too, to the success of The Blessed Virgin's Expostulation, the dynamics less imaginatively judged than in Britten's edition of the piece, and with a rather square regularity in the pacing of recitative. But how sad if because of this one were to miss the tender absorption of von Stade's performance here, or the lovely pianissimo of such phrases as "flattering hopes, farewell". What a loss, too, if the second side of the record were to go unheard because of the qualified success of the first. The Bilitis songs have the most winning feminity, "La chevelure" drawing from the singer a richer, more sensual tone, while a new darkness colours the satyres' obituary in the last song (and, if reassurance is needed, it should be added that Martin Katz accompanies more sensitively than he did in the recording by Marilyn Home some years ago—Decca SXL6577, 6/74). Then comes the set of four French folk songs arranged by Canteloube of the Auvergne: magically evocative, and bolder in the projection of personality. Finally, a touching, quite simple American song, addressed to Jenny Rebecca ("four days old"), serves as an encore piece, allowing the voice to settle and linger graciously in the mind. Von Stade is already an accomplished recitalist, though she will no doubt come to communicate more vividly and imaginatively on record. Meanwhile, here is one of the finest singers of the younger generation, her voice in that precious early summertime condition, fresh-toned and beautifully placed: a fine, admirably recorded, first song recital, and, one hopes, the first of many.

– Gramophone [11/1978]

Canteloube: Chants d'Auvergne

CANTELOUBE: SONGS OF THE AUVER

R E V I E W S:

ClassicsToday:
Canteloube's setting of folk songs from France's Auvergne region is a sure-fire hit. The music is catchy, full of delightful oboe and wind solos, snappy percussion, and imitations of traditional native instruments, including bagpipes. And unless you're genetically resistant to rustic humor, the texts are charming. But, especially in the songs with full orchestra, they're art songs, not folk music, and thus they ask for a trained soloist. The rub is that singers also must project the rawness of the real folk singer, a trait rarely found in opera singers turning to folk material. Here, Véronique Gens, a favorite in Baroque and Mozart recordings and a soprano endowed with gorgeous, full-bodied tonal resources, finds the right blend of trained sophistication and folkish naiveté.


Gens is predictably fine in lullabies like the popular "Brezairola" and "Baïlèro", her lovely soprano soaring, its bright touch of silver shedding rays of light on the infant objects of affection. In songs like "Lo calhé" (The Quail) and "La delaïssádo" (Deserted) I first thought her a bit too cultivated, but by the second hearing she seemed just right, hitting the swinging rhythm of "Lo calhé" with vigor and aptly characterizing "La delaïssádo". Apprehensions of oversophistication went out the window with "Malurous qu'o uno fenno" (Unfortunate is he who has a wife), where Gens really gets down and dirty. And she closes the program with a bouncy "Lou diziou bé" (They said), wonderfully bringing out the mockery of the words and portraying the narrator and the faithless Pierre with humor.


Jean-Claude Casadesus and the Lille Orchestra offer fine support, the unnamed wind soloists really digging into their parts with gusto. I wouldn't part with the incomparable charm of Victoria de los Angeles, the appropriately folkish Netanya Davrath, or the first and still best interpreter of these songs, Madeleine Grey. But Gens wraps most of their strengths into one full disc (but with plenty of room for 3 or 4 more songs). Would that the engineers have matched her. Oddly enough, sometimes they do, capturing vivid presence and good voice/band balances. But in other songs, especially those with full orchestral strings, she's often too closely miked, the orchestra veiled. Bottom line: this bargain Naxos disc of 21 songs is the one to have if you want a well-chosen, representative selection. [2/18/2005]--Dan Davis, ClassicsToday.com

MusicWeb
"Véronique Gens has easily one of the most exquisite voices in the business today; moreover anything she does is uncommonly intelligent and musically informed. With this recording Naxos enters the echelons of upmarket performances. In this material, Gens outclasses Kiri te Kanawa in terms of vocal beauty and is in an altogether different league interpretatively. She is even a match for the venerable recording made by the late Victoria de los Angeles. Indeed, she may even have an edge over her competitors, for Gens is a native of the Auvergne. She would have grown up well aware of the history and traditions of regional culture...This recording is so distinctive that I've little doubt it will be the definitive Chants d'Auvergne for many years to come." - Anne Ozorio, MusicWeb

There's more to Canteloube than the Auvergne, so splendidly shown here

For her second CD devoted to Joseph Canteloube’s vocal music, Véronique Gens has looked beyond the celebrated, much-recorded Chants d’Auvergne, and back to Tryptique, composed in 1913. Canteloube dedicated this to Maggie Teyte but the First World War interrupted its progress, and it was not until 1923 that Jane Campredon gave the premiere, with the Colonne orchestra conducted by Gabriel Pierné.

A setting of three poems by Roger Frêne, its lush, not to say extravagant orchestration anticipates Canteloube’s later folksong settings. The influence of both Ravel and Debussy is obvious, maybe also Stravinsky (it was, after all, the year of The Rite of Spring). The first section, “Offrande à l’été” is an ardent love song, with some pretty giddy scoring for harps. The central “Lunaire” has a more mysterious, yearning feel, with a lovely little dissonance at the word “cendre”, as the poet imagines the leaves turning to ash. The finale, “Hymne dans l’aurore” is an ecstatic prayer to Pan, celebrating every wonder of nature. The final cry, “Mon âme s’ouvre ainsi qu’une aube étincellante! O Pan!” is marked in the score crescendo en grandissant, and Gens, Serge Baudo and the Lille Orchestra rise to the moment with splendid force. It is really surprising that this work has not become better known; any soprano wanting to look beyond the obvious repertory should welcome it.

The rest of the disc is taken up with those remaining Auvergne songs not included on the earlier issue, conducted by Jean-Claude Casadesus (4/05). Once again, Gens proves that an authentic knowledge of the dialect is a great advantage. The much later group from Chants de France makes a pleasant end to the recital, but it is Tryptique that has to be heard.

-- Patrick O'Connor, Gramophone [12/2007]

Véronique Gens sings beautifully throughout and shows a fine understanding … perfectly at ease.

Since Stokowski’s and Anna Moffo’s pioneering recording of selections from Canteloube’s Chants d’Auvergne, these beautiful folk-song arrangements have become part of many sopranos’ repertoire. One can name Kiri Te Kanawa, Jill Gomez, Frederica von Stade and others having had a go at these ravishing works. Véronique Gens has already recorded a first volume with the same orchestra conducted by Jean-Claude Casadesus (Naxos 8.557491) favourably reviewed here by Anne Ozorio.

In spite of a varied output of chamber and orchestral music also including an opera Le Mas, the composer is now mainly known for his colourful, yet often subtle arrangements. In fact, next to the now celebrated Chants d’Auvergne, he also collected and arranged folk-songs from the Basque country, some of which were recorded some time ago (on Audivis). The present selection of nine folk songs, a few of which are new to me, beautifully complements Gens’ first instalment. What makes this release particularly worth having is the inclusion of a selection from Les Chants de France and, more importantly to my mind, that of the fine Triptyque composed in 1914 but first performed in 1925. In these settings of poems by Roger Frêne, a poet unknown to me about whom I could not find any useful information, Canteloube proves himself the heir of the likes of Fauré, Duparc and Chausson. At the same time he is attentive to the musical trends of his time: Debussy and Ravel. There is much orchestral refinement in these fine settings with more than a touch of Impressionism. I was particularly impressed by the third song Hymne dans l’aurore. It paints a strongly atmospheric evocation of the coming of dawn crowned by a glowing sunrise.

In Chants de France, Canteloube continues his labour of love with French folk-song and brings comparable subtlety and refinement to bear. In much the same way as in Chants d’Auvergne, the composer succeeds in wrapping his arrangements in superb orchestral guise, while bringing out some surprising and unexpected touches. Just try the first song, the celebrated Auprès de ma blonde; in which the composer eschews any mawkishness and vulgarity. In the last one, D’où venez-vous fillette? Has some salty rhythmic surprises in the accompaniment. The other arrangements in this selection, likewise those from Chants d’Auvergne, alternate touching tenderness, mild sorrow and earthy humour. A most welcome addition to the catalogue, although I wanted more of them given the somewhat short total playing time of this otherwise desirable release.

Véronique Gens sings beautifully throughout and shows a fine understanding of the Auvergne dialect. I think I remember a recent interview - was it in Gramophone? - in which she mentioned that she had family roots in the Auvergne and that these folk-songs meant a great deal to her. That certainly shows in her performances; but she is equally and equally perfectly at ease with the other works featured here.

Serge Baudo is highly regarded for his sympathy with French music of the first half of the 20th century and beyond. Once again he proves a most reliable and inspired partner. A pity, though, that the words of Triptyque could not be printed in the insert notes, although Gens’ excellent diction more than compensates.

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International

French composer Joseph Canteloube (1879-1957) made a life's work of collecting, transcribing, and arranging folksongs. His Chants d'Auvergne has long been very popular. Much of the rest of his songs, though, have been unjustly neglected. Among these, L'arada emerges as a particularly intriguing work.

That Baïlèro, a shepherd’s song from the highlands of Auvergne sung in the Occitan dialect of the area, should become a favorite with singers ranging from Victoria de los Angeles to Sarah Brightman by way of Renée Fleming and Karita Mattila, is all because of Marie-Joseph Canteloube de Malaret. As a budding composer in Paris in the 1900s, Canteloube was unable to interest himself in the various musical cliques and currents. Instead he looked for inspiration in Auvergne in central France where he was born, starting to collect the songs of the farmers and shepherds that lived in the mountainous region. But he did so as a composer rather than a musicologist, and between 1923 and 1954 he published a total of thirty Chants d’Auvergne, arranged, harmonized and sumptuously orchestrated. The result is, one might say, idealized folk music: Canteloube largely respects the melodic line of the originals, but adds instrumental introductions, interludes and postludes, and gives an important role to the woodwind section. For the present disc, Carolyn Sampson and Pascal Rophé have selected 25 of the songs – ranging from love songs and lullabies to working songs and laments. They perform them together with Tapiola Sinfonietta, bringing sparkle to Canteloube's luxurious scores halfway between the impressionism of Debussy and the bucolic lyricism of d'Indy.

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