Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971)
The Firebird (1910)
The Rite of Spring (1913)
Orchestre de Paris/Klaus Mäkelä
rec. 2022, Philharmonie de Paris
Decca 485 3946 [83]

Last year, I reviewed the cycle of Sibelius symphonies which Klaus Mäkelä had recorded with the Oslo Philharmonic. Now, Decca present what I think is his debut recording with the Orchestre de Paris, his “other” orchestra – he has yet to take up the post of Chief Conductor of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra.

In his useful booklet essay Stephen Walsh reminds us of Stravinsky’s contention that L’Oiseau de feu was a necessary precursor to Le Sacre du Printemps; notwithstanding that, Decca have placed Le Sacre first on this CD. I must admit that there are times when I listen to a performance of the complete L’Oiseau de feu and find my attention wandering occasionally; perhaps that’s because we more frequently hear the more concentrated Suite. There’s no danger of the attention straying in Klaus Mäkelä’s account of the ballet, though; there’s a strong narrative thread running throughout and, furthermore, the splendid orchestral playing and excellent recording allow us to hear Stravinsky’s fantastically inventive orchestration in great and colourful detail.

Mäkelä ensures that the ‘Introduction’ is full of hushed suspense, giving way to Rimskian glitter at the first appearance of the Firebird. I admired very much the rhythmic and textural lightness that he and his orchestra bring to the ‘Danse de L’Oiseau de feu’. Immediately thereafter, when the Firebird is chased and captured by Prince Ivan, we get a real sense of the Firebird’s frightened efforts to escape and her failure so to do. ‘Les Supplications de L’Oiseau de feu’ is wonderfully characterised here, allowing us to appreciate to the full Stravinsky’s beguiling scoring. A little later, there’s admirable playfulness and lightness in the delivery of ‘Le Jeu de princesses avec les pommes d’or’. But, of course, there’s another side to the ballet and Mäkelä brings all the necessary menace to ‘L’entrée de Kascheï l’Immortel’, while the famous ‘Danse infernale de tous les sujets de Kascheï’ is full of malevolent energy.

From this point on, the majority of the music is, like the ‘Danse infernale’, very familiar from the Suite. The ‘Berceuse de L’Oiseau de feu’ is hypnotically restful, though I do wonder if it’s taken just a fraction too slowly. In this episode I admired very much the beautiful, supple bassoon solo. Within moments, though, that player and his colleagues in the bassoon choir are heard in a very different light, as they make the awakening of Kascheï as sinister as it should be. The section after Kascheï’s death is marked ‘Profonde obscurité’ and that’s exactly what’s conveyed in this performance, the playing marvellously hushed and pregnant with tension. Mäkelä eases magically into the final Tableau; the wonderfully quiet opening blossoms gradually until we reach the celebratory grandeur of the ballet’s conclusion.  

This is a superb performance of L’Oiseau de feu. The playing is absolutely top-drawer and I don’t think Mäkelä puts a foot wrong. As I said, there’s a great sense of narrative throughout and we can also revel in the fabulously colourful orchestration.

In many ways, Le Sacre du Printemps represents a huge step forward from L’Oiseau de feu. However, listening to this performance, especially before or in isolation from L’Oiseau de feu I was struck more than usually by the links between the two. Of course, Le Sacre contains a great deal of music in which savage primitivism predominates – as it must, given the subject matter. But there were many occasions in Mäkelä’s performance when one can hear echoes of the brilliant, subtle colourings that are so evident throughout the earlier ballet.

In the ‘Introduction’ to Part I, I was delighted by the extent to which the many intertwining woodwind lines can be clearly discerned – though no single line obtrusively distracts the listener’s attention; everything is part of Stravinsky’s richly imagined orchestral tapestry. Mäkelä and the orchestra have all the necessary bite and weight in ‘Augures printaniers’ and the ‘Jeu du rapt’ is played with what I can best describe as controlled frenzy. The ‘Cortège du sage’ episode has an abundance of detail while a terrifically exciting rendition of ‘Danse de la terre’ concludes Part I.

Part II is no less successful. The ‘Introduction’ is expertly shaded and moulded. The quiet trumpets (around cue 86 in the score) are very hushed indeed – arguably, they are just a bit too hushed; the marking is only piano but sounds much quieter than that. Hereabouts, Mäkelä’s pacing is quite spacious – though not unduly so, I think – but when he gets to ‘Cercles mystérieux des adolescentes’ he is able to move the music on nicely at an appropriately flowing speed. The ‘Glorification de l’élue’ is full of savagery and from here on the conductor builds the ballet to a gripping conclusion, full of barbaric tension. The final ‘Danse sacrale’ generates frenzied excitement but the performance is disciplined: I noticed that attention is paid to the many different dynamic markings in the score.

It seems to me that Klaus Mäkelä and the Orchestre de Paris are just as successful in Le Sacre as they are in L’Oiseau de feu. Le Sacre is a score that demands terrific virtuosity from both conductor and orchestra but I got no sense in this performance that virtuosity was an end in itself. The performance is a fine achievement, full of electricity and attention to detail, and its many virtues are enhanced by the excellent Decca sound

This is a very fine Stravinsky disc. As I’ve indicated, the performances themselves are terrific. I was most impressed by the quality of the sound that the engineering team, led by Arne Akselberg, has achieved. You can hear an abundance of detail in these teeming scores but the recording also gives a nice sense of the space around the orchestra in the Philharmonie de Paris. In that respect I think the sound has an advantage over the recent recordings conducted by Sir Simon Rattle on the LSO Live label (review). There, the sound is somewhat closer and up-front and the acoustic of the Barbican Hall is less spacious than appears to be the case in the Philharmonie de Paris. These two scores require – nay, demand – an impactful recording, and LSO Live deliver that; but this new Decca disc has no lack of impact, yet seems to let the music breathe a little more.

I wonder if Klaus Mäkelä plans to record Petrushka in Paris. On the evidence of this disc that could be quite a proposition. For now, though, this disc is an impressive recording debut for the partnership of Klaus Mäkelä and the Orchestre de Paris

John Quinn

Previous review: Ralph Moore (April 2023)

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