The Auryn Quartet plays these works with such sovereign ease that in places they sound positively casual. But don't let this fact give any impression of complacency on the part of the players--rather the performances reveal a certain aristocratic elegance that serves these works particularly well. In the Ravel, for example, note the purity of intonation in the unison octaves of the first movement's second subject, or the finale's almost insolent vitality. The Debussy, as befits its more passionate idiom, commands a correspondingly more dramatic approach, but never at the expense of the conversational quality that great quartet playing always preserves. The group's give and take in the scherzo displays a particularly memorable species of relaxed charm, with the ensuing Andantino truly "doucement expressif", as the composer directs.

Fauré's elusive late masterpiece conceals numerous harmonic surprises below its outwardly placid surface, a fact that the Auryn Quartet surely understands. Listen to the subtle but always impeccably clear voicing of the central Andante's delicate web of lyrical polyphony, and to the players' ability to float the rhythms of the concluding Allegro across the bar lines. In sum, these are performances of remarkable distinction and polish, captured in state-of-the-art sonics. Another winner from this small but almost invariably excellent label. [5/31/2003]

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

DEBUSSY Estampes. Pour le piano. Suite bergamasques: Clair de lune. Préludes: Feux d’artifice. Des pas sur la neige; La puerta del vino; Ce qu’a vu le vent d’ouest. Etudes: pour les sonorities opposes. Berceuse héroique. Morceau de concours. Ballade. Pièce sans titre. Elégie • Roberta Rust (pn) • CENTAUR 2867 (71:18)


This is my first encounter with the playing of Roberta Rust, a pianist who has studied with John Perry and Ivan Davis, among others. She now has an active international career and her previous recordings include piano works by Haydn, Villa-Lobos, and Prokofiev. On this disc she proves herself a first-rate Debussy player, someone who listens acutely to each sound she makes, who characterizes the music in a personal way while at the same time honoring Debussy’s very detailed notation, and who has an arsenal of touches—and a beautifully recorded piano—at her disposal. The disc provides a fine cross section of Debussy piano output, from the early, ubiquitous “Clair de lune” (1890) to his great triptych Estampes (1903) and his final piano pieces, including the sad little Elegie (1915). For me, Estampes is the highlight, with the numerous fade-ins and fade-outs of ideas under superb control in all three movements: “Pagodes” and “Soirée dans Grenade” come across as wonderfully evocative improvisations—and not even a Richter has always been so successful at this; and “Jardins sous la pluie” is truly a tempest in a théière. In Pour le piano, the Prelude and Toccata are never dry—and the latter concludes with tremendous reserves of speed and color. Imagination and virtuosity are equally in the service of “Feux d’artifice” and “Ce qu’a vu le vent d’ouest” (technically the two hardest of Debussy’s 24 Préludes ), and the hypnotic mood of “Des pas sur la neige” (the slowest and easiest of them) is captured perfectly. This is quite simply one of the finest Debussy discs I have heard in recent memory, and I hope that it won’t be long before Rust gives a complete set of the Préludes or the two sets of Images. Very highly recommended.


FANFARE: Charles Timbrell

Kultur SPIEGEL, January 2005: "There are good pianists, there are grandiose pianists and there is Evgeni Koroliov: In each recording the Russian pianist, who hitherto was mainly to be heard playing Bach, sets new standards. With Debussy he competes with champions such as Gieseking or Michelangelo - and triumphs: this round of portraits of atmosphere, hovering wonderfully between jest and seriousness, has never before sounded so expressive or transparent."

Along with Horowitz's famous interpretation, Van Cliburn's is one that makes every bar of the Barber Sonata really speak. Even in an excessively dry recording he manages to suggest an epic dimension, with song, dance, struggle and celebration held in admirable balance.

And it is not just the Barber which makes this an exceptionally desirable reissue. Cliburn's Mozart is beautifully shaded, scrupulously stylish and sensitive to harmonic pulls towards the dark side; and his Debussy is both supple and suavely textured, with a wonderfully judged rhapsodic abandon in ''La soiree dans Grenade''. I could understand some listeners finding the Mozart a little too well-scrubbed and toy-soldierish in places, and there is a tendency for shapes in the Debussy pieces to be too spasmodic—the Octaves Study is not helped by an exaggerated response to caesuras, and ''Jardins sous la pluie'' is too fast and marred by persistent mis-reading of B sharps as B naturals. But all that detracts very little from a truly distinguished souvenir of Cliburn's artistry.

-- Gramophone (5/1991)

This coupling offers two youthful concerto works and a solo interlude. The most substantial work is the Britten Piano Concerto (placed last on the disc), written in 1938 when the composer was 25. It is a boisterous piece, unstintingly virtuosic and with clear overtones of Prokofiev. It suits Douglas well, and he tackles the relentless passagework with spirited enthusiasm. His tone is rather hard, particularly in the fortes, but this is not entirely unsuitable given the steely, driven quality of the music. The first-movement cadenza is genuinely exciting, and the point when the orchestra re-enters in a moment of calm retreat (track 7 at 9'21''), with Douglas providing a rare beauty of tone and colour in the following lyrical passage, is beguiling... The Debussy Fantaisie (1890), which despite the composer’s efforts remained unperformed during his lifetime, receives a strong performance with crystalline clarity in the passagework... His playing breathes with natural phrasing and articulation, and has a sure-footed integrity...

-- Tim Parry, Gramophone [10/1997]

Crossley's playing of ''Brouillards'' (the first Prelude of Book 2) successfully evokes the disturbing fog of a winter night in which objects appear suddenly and menacingly. I actually think the marking Modere suggests a quicker tempo—Gieseking takes 2'44'' as against Crossley's 3'33'', but there again, the admirably sensitive Gordon Fergus-Thompson takes a minute longer than Crossley!... This Debussy is beautifully textured, with fine control of fingers and pedals; indeed, it is most sympathetically presented and the recording, made at The Maltings, Snape, is satisfyingly atmospheric, with a glowing sound rather than a brilliant one... This applies equally to the Estampes and Children's Corner. In the former work. ''Pagodes'' is a touch deliberate, but has lovely sounds; indeed, Crossley's tonal beauty is consistent...

-- Christopher Headington, Gramophone [9/1993]

(...) But what insights into the chemistry, the constructional and structural wonders of these Préludes do Koroliov's musical-pathological dissections allow? They lead into the inside of this texture, invalidating all that one has experienced for frightful - and then again delightful - moments of thinking and feeling. In a peaceable way, they force one to unbiased expose oneself to a strange experience, yet, in the next moment, a familiar experience once again. (Klassik. Heute. De)

There are times when a disk drops through my letterbox and, after tearing the wrapping off the parcel, I look at the CD and despair, wondering do we really need yet another, in this case, recording of Debussy’s popular orchestral works? Then I play the disk and am pleasantly surprised. So it is with this disk. Märkl’s up against very stiff competition – Ansermet, Barbirolli, Boulez and Martinon to name but a few – but he’s his own man and gives us his own view of the music.

The Prélude is very well done. The solo flute is suitably sensuous, and is ably complemented by the solo oboe. Also, I have never heard the two solo violins, at the end, sound quite as winsome as they do here. The big tune in the middle is allowed to expand as it should and the delicate final pages, with slightly too reticent antique cymbals, is well controlled.

La Mer is almost as fine a performance. Starting very mysteriously, Märkl builds up the tension until the music bursts forth with animation. It’s a fine achievement. However, when the second part of the first movement begins, with cellos in eight parts, it’s too reticent and lacks the momentum required to push the music forwards. When Satie first heard this movement, From Dawn to Midday on the Sea, he quipped that he especially enjoyed the bit at a quarter to eleven. Strange as this may seem I think I know the moment he means – at four bars after rehearsal number 13 there is a static section where cor anglais and two solo cellos play a long breathed theme over sustained chords, it’s a magical moment which prepares us for the build up to the climactic final bars. Märkl makes these few bars quite magical and the calm is quite stunning. The coda is well built but the final three chords – which should beat us about the head with their power – fail to completely satisfy. The scherzo, Play of the Waves, is too heavy handed and the important colouristic glockenspiel part all but inaudible. The tension and suspense of the final movement, Dialogue between the Wind and the Sea, is very well done. The climaxes are well developed and the changes of mood and tempo very well handled. There is one strange moment – at rehearsal number 53 the horns play a triplet, followed, in the next bar, by two minim chords. In this recording we are treated to an extra triplet chord! I’ve played this moment several times, thinking my ears were deceiving me, but no, it’s there, an extra triplet beat. As it’s an exact repeat of what they played six bars earlier I’m mystified by what happens. Why is this extra chord there and what is the purpose? I doubt it’s an editing error so the conductor must have heard it as the horns played the passage. Curiouser and curiouser. Better news is that four bars after rehearsal number 59, under the big chords for winds and strings, Märkl plays the brass fanfares which, more often than not, are ignored by conductors as not being in a real Debussy style. Perhaps they are somewhat unsubtle for Debussy, and for this moment, but without them the music suddenly stops dead, it seems empty, something has to be played there and if these fanfares are all we have then we have to have them. It’s a good performance but it lacks that final insight, that ultimate injection of energy which makes the Hallé/Barbirolli recording so memorable and compelling.

Jeux is one of Debussy’s most elusive scores (it was his last orchestral work). It’s a ballet which concerns a lost tennis ball and a boy and two girls who look for it, as they play hide and seek, try to catch one another, quarrel and sulk without cause. Their games are interrupted when another tennis ball is mischievously thrown in by an unknown hand which surprises and alarms them and they disappear into the nocturnal depths of the garden. The story isn’t important. Debussy’s music is. It receives an excellent performance here – Märkl fully understands what is going on in the music and leads his players through the myriad tempo changes, keeps the ever changing orchestral colouring alive and generally makes clear music which so often sounds confused and muddled. You’d be hard pressed to find a finer performance on disk.

André Caplet was a close friend of Debussy and worked on the orchestration of the latter’s incidental music for Gabriele D’Annunzio’s play Le Martyre de Saint-Sébastien and the ballet La Boîte à joujou. He also made two, superb, reductions for two pianos, four hands and six hands, of La Mer, and made orchestral transcriptions of several piano works. Children’s Corner is a delightful six movement suite for solo piano; it’s light hearted, full of fun and several of the movements have become popular independently of the suite – The Little Shepherd and Golliwog’s Cake-walk in particular. Caplet’s orchestration has always struck me as being rather heavy handed – odd for so skilful an orchestrator – but here he has met his match with perfect piano music which does not lend itself to orchestration. Märkl does his best but, ultimately, it’s still too heavy and much of the humour is lost.

Apart from Jeux, which is superb, I would not put these performances of La Mer and the Prélude ahead of other recordings which are currently available - those conductors listed above - but they are very serviceable and if you’re on a tight budget, or just wanting to dip your toes in the Debussian water for the first time, then at the bargain price you’ll get much from these atmospheric readings.

-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International

The Tacet label has approached the leading Welte expert to set up the original sound production mechanism and has recorded the results in excellent modern stereo on a series of CDs now numbering a dozen. These treasures from the Welte-Mignon should be heard by every piano student. (Audiophile Audition)

Maybe reviewers fuss too much about couplings, but in this case, with the Prelude a l'apresmidi dun faune these days extending the timings of virtually every Debussy issue, and with nearly two decades separating it from the later Jeux and La boite a joujoux, as well as it not being a ballet—oh, all right: it may have been conceived for the stage, and was choreographed (and vulgarized) by Nijinsky in 1912—surely a more enterprising choice in keeping with the theme would have been the contemporary and unjustly neglected ballet Khamma. With the standard of performance on offer here, that would indeed have formed a cherishable disc. As it happens, Tilson Thomas's Prelude is very fine: richly drawn and, compared to the recent versions from Boulez (DG) and Solti (Decca), traditionally drawn out, long-breathed and languorous. Overloud horns in the fourth bar would seem to forecast fog, not heat-haze; in other respects the balance (from EMI's Abbey Road Studio No. 1) is good, with integrated but focused solo strings, harps and antique cymbals.

"Toy-boxes are really towns in which the toys live like people" wrote Andre Helle who, in 1913, devised the scenario for La boite a joujoux (adding "or perhaps towns are just boxes in which people live like toys"). But Debussy made no attempt at meaningful symbolism; "something to amuse the children—nothing more" he said. In giving life to the wooden figures, and with its prominent role for piano, inevitably one's thoughts turn to Petrushka, far more dramatically effective, but hardly a children's story—well, not a child of 1913 anyway. Tilson Thomas is more artful than Torteher on Chandos: in the first tableau his doll dances her waltz with more look-at-me' allure and grace—Tortelier's rubato is comparatively (perhaps aptly) mechanical—and, after Punch has biffed the little soldier on the nose, an angrier captain pops his head out of the box. On the debit side, a wooden doll surely wouldn't pray as quietly as does the LSO clarinet in the following tableau after the battle (track 4, 4'45": the marking is only piano); the distant shepherd's piping in the third tableau is not really distant at all, and the flutes are too loud at the moment of embrace between the soldier and the doll at the end of the scene. Whilst I'm grumbling, Sony's notes don't include a synopsis—as entertainment, this music, unlike Jeux, is dependent on knowledge of the stage action (Chandos supply a detailed scenario). If forced to make a choice between the two, it would be Tilson Thomas; his is the more polished, confident and stylish account.

Perhaps Debussy was attracted to the idea of a children's ballet in 1913 to cleanse himself from the sins of Nijinsky's staging of his Prelude and Jeux (May 1912 and 1913 respectively). While enthusiastically welcoming Simon Rattle's Jeux (EMI), CH noted that the music's free-born invention was "sacrificed a little in favour of a richer romanticism". It could be argued, too, that Haitink (Philips) achieves his unrivalled clarity and delicacy at the expense of a degree of passion. I happen to feel that both, more successfully than Tilson Thomas, and in their quite different ways, achieve a special fantasy, and that contrejour lighting which Debussy was aiming at in his orchestration to oversimplify, it's a question of ensuring equal prominence for the woodwind. The LSO strings are unsteady in their opening four-bar chord (unusually played here as two plus two), but there's a line of accumulating energy from the main theme at fig. 51 (12'29") through to the climax at fig. 71 (16'23") which is less easy to feel in Rattle's and Haitink's accounts. With a slightly faster basic tempo this Jeux bears out Tilson Thomas's judgement, as he himself put it in GRAMOPHONE in February 1991, in knowing "what to hold on to and what to throw away".

-- Gramophone [11/1992]

DEBUSSY Images. Pour le piano: Sarabande (orch. Ravel). Danse (orch. Ravel). Marche écossaise. La plus que lente • Jun Märkl, cond; Lyon Natl O • NAXOS 8.572296 (59:45)


This is the third volume in a series of Debussy’s orchestral music from the Lyon orchestra under its young German conductor; I haven’t heard the other two, but on this evidence I want to.


Images gets off to a good start with a Gigues of smooth, rounded, refined sonorities—little or no hint here of those tangy, fruity, acidic French orchestral timbres of a bygone era (still well in evidence in, e.g., Martinon’s EMI Debussy recordings of the 1970s). Rhythmic and dynamic detail is sharply observed. Phrases are beautifully shaped, with plenty of breathing space, building impressively to the tragic climax.


Ibéria is absolutely first-rate, displaying a masterly integration of the work’s many subtle tempo changes, in the service of Debussy’s incomparably atmospheric evocations: e.g., in “Par les rues et par les chemins,” the transition from sun-drenched glitter to the mysterious, unsettlingly shadowy world of the central part. “Les parfums de la nuit” is taken slowly (9:18; compare Boulez’s briskly efficient 7:30), with beautifully swung habanera rhythms. “Le matin d’un jour de fête” relishes to the full both the majestic, dazzling luminosity of the movement’s outer sections and the quirky eccentricity of its central adventures. I don’t know if Jun Märkl is a string player by training, but throughout he achieves an amazing variety of string sounds and articulations reminiscent of the great string-playing maestros of the past—above all, Monteux, and his classic 1963 version with the LSO (Philips). Listen to the extraordinary care Märkl lavishes over such details such as the violas’ taking over the ostinato in the central nocturnal procession of “Par les rues” ( léger et rythmé , and suddenly rather sinister-sounding in its new surroundings); the darkly delicate swaying of the divided violas’ and cellos’ introduction of the sinuous habanera in “Les parfums”; or the electrifying crescendos of the “giant guitar” effect in “Le matin.”


The performance of Rondes de printemps is spacious and finely detailed, holding tempo and power in reserve for an exciting quickening of the pulse in the coda.


All in all, these Images easily stand comparison to the best of the digital era. They come across as less self-conscious than Rattle/City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra (EMI, with the British maestro’s characteristically imaginative drawing of detail—in Gigues , for instance, chillier northern mists, and a stronger sense of mounting desperation). On the other hand, they sound more emotionally engaged than Boulez/Cleveland (DG, in a gorgeously nuanced sonic tapestry dispatched with cool, patrician elegance).


Märkl lavishes just as much care on the short pieces, from the gorgeous kaleidoscope of marble tints in Ravel’s orchestration of the Sarabande to the swirling mists of the Marche écossaise, whose engaging Celtic camp conceals many touches of real Debussyan harmonic alchemy. The sinuous rubato of La Plus que lente ’s slow waltz (complete with exotically twanging cimbalom) is teased out to the manner born.


The recording is resonant and spacious, a natural concert hall balance with outstanding perspective and depth, and no artificial highlighting of detail. This conductor/orchestra partnership is clearly something out of the ordinary, and I’ll be watching for more from them. At the price, the disc is a terrific bargain, whether you’re a newcomer to these pieces or a seasoned collector of multiple versions.


FANFARE: Boyd Pomeroy

"This is a convenient recital, presenting—unusually, it turns out, in a single program—the clarinet-and-piano works of Debussy and his contemporary Florent Schmitt, plus those of the demi-Six Honegger, Milhaud, and Poulenc (the other three were Auric, Durey, and Tailleferre), who were more or less a generation younger. Despite a name that sounds as German as, say, “John Barbirolli,” clarinetist Ralph Manno is a native German, making the program all the more atypical. This disc follows soon after Oehms’s release of a two-CD set featuring Manno and Alfredo Perl in music of Brahms; both that and the present disc, however, turn out to be reissues of 1995 recordings.

Manno’s performance of Debussy’s Rhapsodie (there never was a deuxième) is languorous at first, then fluid and dynamic as the music demands. His sound, appropriately international rather than characteristically German, is attractive and well focused, and his technique and control are impressive. The aptly named Petite pièce, written as a sight-reading exercise, is smooth and expressive.

The Lorraine-born Florent Schmitt (1870–1958) should be better known; he is remembered today mostly for the extravagant, almost expressionistic La Tragédie de Salomé. The present Andantino, by contrast, is brief, modest, and perhaps even a bit sentimental...

If the composers who made up Les Six had any musical trait in common (and Milhaud, for one, denied that they did), it is a quintessentially French irreverence, even impudence. (Two of the movements of Milhaud’s sonatine are marked Très rude.) The Honegger and Milhaud sonatines were both composed in the 1920s; the former is an aphoristic work in three movements lasting only six minutes all together; Manno plays with impressive command here... The late, folksy Duo Concertant is an attractive example of Milhaud’s Provençal style; the slight Caprice, running under two minutes, serves as a sort of encore...this disc can be recommended for its overview of the core French clarinet recital repertoire."

FANFARE: Richard A. Kaplan