Pierre Monteux: Early Recordings = STRAVINSKY: Le Sacre du Printemps; RAVEL: Le petit poucet from Ma Mere l’oye; La Valse; COPPOLA: Interlude dramatique; CHABRIER: Fete Polonaise – Orchestre Symphonique de Paris/Pierre Monteux
Pristine Audio PASC219, 62:27 [avail. in different format downloads at www.pristineclassical.com] ****:
Pierre Monteux (1875-1964) inscribed a series of 78 rpm performances, of which those assembled here prove the most elusive, since his Berlioz and the several works with violinist Yehudi Menuhin have remained relatively current in the collectors’ catalogue.
The feral Stravinsky Rite of Spring (23-25 January 1929) made in the Salle Pleyel (as are all the recordings) elicits an electrical energy quite startling even by today’s standards. The Jeu de rapt punches and shrieks with elemental fury. The Rondes printanieres conveys a menace whose primal power at first groans with the weight of contained volcanic alchemy: when it does erupt, the orchestral definition screeches–quite a sonic feat–given that editor Mark Obert-Thorn often had to work with dubbings made from French shellac originals. Listen to the marvelous mix between pizzicato strings and tympani in the Jeux des cites rivales, the metrics labyrinthine in their own right. The momentum carries into the Cortege du sage, fiendish and excruciating in its ferocity. A lull, and then the pregnant tympani riff that unleashes the last convulsive wrench to the Danse de la terre, whose savage tremolos threaten to shake our world apart.
Part II opens with a palpable sense of mystical unworthiness, as though we had penetrated deeply into the chthonian. Harmonies that might have belonged to Debussy become stretched and distorted into modal insinuations of dark eroticism. The transition from the Mysterious Circle of Adolescents to the Glorification of the Elected One resonates with fiendish power, quite uncivilized, Monteux’s moving his orchestral masses with quick precision. With the Action rituelle des ancetres we enter the sacred precinct of dance and death, the antique relation of festival and sacrifice. The various layerings of string and brass stretti, given their inexorable rhythmic arch, becomes mesmeric and shattering at once, culminating in the self-immolating Danse sacral: The Elected One. This performance well qualifies as the best Stravinsky you have heard in a long time.
The Ravel, Coppola, and Chabrier inscriptions date from 29, 31 January-3 February 1930. No greater contrast could follow the wicked Le Sacre than Le petit poucet from Mother Goose, all tender innocence and childhood devotion. The clarity of orchestral line and the resonance of the woodwind timbres testify to Monteux’s keen ear for shimmering aural alchemy. The music of Piero Coppola (1888-1971) has not survived in the same way that his repute as a conductor endures. The opening surge of his Interlude domatium (3 February 1930)–with its jazzy horn syncopations–conveys a kind of Hollywood sensibility, a raw energy that bustles with the aura the big city. The secondary theme, rather lyrical, blares forth, its large canvas reminiscent of moments from Walton or Moeran. The frequent explosions of sound are quite huge, a large orchestra making its bold claims. A violin solo emerges from the tumult in concert with horns, soft winds, harp, and strings. The music becomes exquisitely bucolic, a lullaby of Broadway–the “Boul Mich”–if you prefer. Coppola applies his own definition of Stravinsky’s rhythmic energy to the last pages, which achieve a kind of luminous apotheosis.
The Chabrier Fete Polonaise (29 January 1930) enjoys a splashy grandeur that might befit a Ronald Colman or Abel Gance epic. The rhythmic pulse remains quite heavy for a French dance, Massenet rather in frenzied parody. The waltz theme emerges from a gaudy mix, with the thump of the polonaise in counterpoint. Perhaps this is balletic mix that would have highlighted the Capulets’ ball when Romeo gate-crashed for love. Monteux urges a superheated account, buoyantly irreverent, almost tinged with Richard Strauss. The constant, interrupted metrics manage to gain an inexorable acceleration, sailing into a rarified paroxysm of jubilation.
Finally, the Ravel La Valse (31 January 1930), which did not share a general international repute that it deserves. Monteux brings a manic wealth of orchestral detail to the score, a wringing conviction that adds considerable drama to the colors with which the score already luxuriates. Controlled abandon marks every turn, every chromatic nuance. The sense of fin-de-siecle, over-ripe energies ultimately in a state of spasmodic collapse permeates this vivid rendition.
–Gary Lemco
