Doremi DHR-7716, 65:10 (Distrib. Allegro) ****:
Strong performances from the National French Radio archives, the Beethoven (11 March 1970) featuring the outstanding partnership of three eminently gifted soloists, including the tragic figure of Christian Ferras (1933-1982), the Enescu pupil thought to occupy the direct succession to the French school that Jacques Thibaud and Joseph Calvet dominated for a generation. Along with cellist Paul Tortelier (1914-1990) and Eric Heidsieck (b. 1936), Ferras marvelously intones the Beethoven Triple Concerto with elastic elegance, while Tortelier and Heidsieck provide suave muscle to the proceedings. Jean Martinon (1910-1976), periodically known as a concerto accompanist with occasional sojourns into his own works and French repertory (with Fournier, Francois, Lympany, or Oistrakh), exacts some astonishingly pungent tuttis out of his radio orchestra. The fluid solidity of the first movement Allegro can be dramatically pungent; and the last chord has the audience on the edge of its collective seat, some members having to stifle their applause. Tortelier’s cello consistently leads all thematic entries; and for the Largo, his expressive power manages to lull us despite some crackled sound, from an otherwise sonically impressive disc. When Ferras contributes to the aria, it quite melts the heart, Heidsieck’s flowing piano undergirding the pathos. A series of canonic scales leads to the long cello note that invokes the Polonaise, the woodwinds tripping lightly as the solo strings cavort in ever more frenetic roulades. Martinon seems hell-bent on pushing the orchestra right out the door in an eddy of bravura colors. One of the wildest realizations of this concerto in my experience, it has your heart beating every musical inch of the ritornello’s way, agog that the soloists can accelerate with such unyielding, even hysterical gusto. The last chord, and now the audience can loose its joyful rapture.
For the Brahms Double Concerto (7 October 1969), we have the supreme, gristlely artistry of cellist Janos Starker (b. 1924), juxtaposed against the sweet serenity of Ferras’ plaintive tones. Together, they might be Apollo and Dionysos in intimate dialogue, supported by a tragic chorus in the orchestra. Charles Bruck (1911-1995), noted for his association with the Paris Conservatory Orchestra in recordings with violinist Leonid Kogan and his succeeding Pierre Monteux in his conducting school, injects a hearty, sinewy energy into the first big tutti in the opening Allegro: we are in for a big ride. Starker leans into his phrases with elastic tension, the kind of iron tear Hades shed when Orpheus plied his lyre before him. The Andante proves especially forceful, nether saccharine nor ponderous, it balances a somberly elegiac moment in noble space. The music moves ineluctably but with self-possession born of a thorough familiarity with every note and pre-arranged nuance. Nice horn work to accompany the duo in the last bars. Starker sets the militant tone of the Vivace non troppo, another juxtaposition of furious impulses poured into a reluctant rondo-sonata form. Generally, the recorded sound of the Brahms holds up better, with fewer shatters on the high end, than does the Beethoven. Thick, juicy stretti and syncopations conjure a creamy Brahms malt, and the brew moves into its polar bear rondo theme anew, the flutes fluttering and the bassoon huffing to keep up. A long pedal point, with French horn, Starker churning and Ferras yearning, leads to the chugging coda, the tympani threatening to usurp everyone else’s efforts. Quite a performance!
— Gary Lemco
