Sorcellerie
Contents listed after review
Duo Jatekok (pianos)
rec. 2023, Studios de la Buissonne, Pernes-les-Fontaines, France
Alpha Classics 1083 [55]
Pianists Naïri Badal and Adélaïde Panaget, collectively Duo Jatekok, have selected this programme for its connections to sorcery and the supernatural. In the case of Liszt’s Sonata in B minor the connection is tenuous; Liszt himself, in conversation with his biographer Lina Ramann, stated categorically that the Sonata was not inspired by a programme (page 29, Liszt Sonata in B minor, Kenneth Hamilton, Cambridge Music Handbooks 1996). That is not to say that pianists can adopt their own interpretation. Duo Jatekok are only following the example of Alfred Cortot in making the association between the Sonata and the Faust legend. No such ambiguity exists for the other works on the programme with their heady mix of love beyond the grave, witches sabbath’s and sorcery spinning out of control.
Saint-Saëns was one of the first pianists to take up Liszt’s sonata, some twenty years after Hans von Bülow had programmed it several times around 1860. It was another thirty years before he decided to transcribe the work for two pianos and he completed it in November 1914, performing it alongside fellow Frenchman Louis Diémer soon after. When I reviewed the version recorded by Hiro Takenouchi and Simon Callaghan (Nimbus NI5997 review) I was perhaps not overwhelmed by the arrangement, excellent though it is. It is more that I have to feel … why? The work is so perfectly written for solo pianist with its inherent sense of struggle that Saint-Saëns almost seems to make it sound easy. Not easy technically, it is still a challenging work for both pianists, but it perhaps just becomes a magnificent sounding piece which is less than it is as a solo work. That said, it does make an excellent addition to the two piano repertoire and there is always the joy of performing in that genre, but for me, it does not add to the original. Richer textures certainly, not that the original lacks them, and melodies, which Liszt often pulls out of decorative texture, are now played separately from the decoration; the first cantando espressivo is just one example with piano one taking the tune and piano two providing the broken chord accompaniment. These swap round a few bars later, with the tune now in octaves in piano two. Saint-Saëns also takes the opportunity to rearrange the grandioso section at its reprise, opening it up to the whole range of the keyboard, giving it a more orchestral timbre. I can’t deny that it is a grand listen, especially in the hands of this enthusiastic duo.
They continue with Manuel de Falla’s perennial favourite, the Ritual Fire Dance from his ballet El Amor Brujo, Love, the Magician. I’ve heard this more times than I can count, but never knew the story behind it all. In a nutshell, it tells of an Andalusian woman, Candela, who loves Camelo but who was married off to a husband chosen for her; he has died but still haunts her. To free herself of the spectre, Candela dances the Ritual fire dance around the gipsies’ camp fire, slowly banishing him in its flames. The author of the transcription doesn’t appear to be listed; I don’t think it’s the Mario Bragiotti version and I believe de Falla only arranged it for piano solo. It sounds effective in this guise, whoever is responsible. I confess that I wasn’t aware that the Sorcerer’s apprentice was originally a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. I’m not sure where I imagined Dukas found his inspiration. I can at least now say that it is in the 1797 poem Der Zauberlehrling that during the sorcerer’s absence, his pupil seizes the opportunity to hand his water collecting chores off to a handy broom and subsequently floods the chambers when the magic spins out of control. Dukas’ cleverly conceived and well-loved symphonic poem is wonderful in depicting the magic and mystery of Goethe’s tale. It is easy to hear the creeping step of the broom and the moments when the magic begins to bubble over into chaos, even for those who didn’t grow up with Mickey Mouse as the wayward pupil.
Disney also took the opportunity to portray the final work on the disc and like the Dukas it is easy to see why; Mussorgsky’s original is startling and Rimsky-Korsakov’s colourful orchestration, the version most often heard, makes it a wonderfully evocative showcase. It transports us to a St. John’s Eve, the eve of the June festival of St. John – just one of its names – in Slavic countries. Witches gather on the bald mountain near Kyiv to celebrate their rites and await the appearance of Satan. It is only the approach of dawn that heralds the dismissal of the witches and evil spirits, its gentle approach delicately portrayed by Rimsky-Korsakov. The transcription played by Duo Jatekok is marked as Nikolai Artsybushev’s arrangement for two pianos; the front page of his piano duet arrangement only lists the full score, parts and the piano duet score, so perhaps this is an adaption, skilfully done it must be added, by the duo themselves?
Whilst I admit I favour the idea of a non-programmatic Liszt Sonata over any supernatural inspiration, the work, with its transformation of themes and compact drama, still displays all of Liszt’s sorcery in its creation. Placed alongside the magical realms of de Falla, Dukas and Mussorgsky it makes for a winning disc, especially in the capable hands Naïri Badal and Adélaïde Panaget, collectively the Duo Jatekok. They play with dash, great technical aplomb and a fine sense of colour and narrative.
Rob Challinor
Buying this recording via a link below generates revenue for MWI, which helps the site remain free.
Contents:
Franz Liszt (1811-1886)
Sonata in B minor S.178 (1842-1853, arr. for two pianos, Camille Saint-Saëns)
Manuel de Falla (1876-1946)
Ritual Fire Dance from El Amor Brujo (1915)
Paul Dukas (1865-1935)
Sorcerer’s Apprentice (1897) (arr. for two pianos)
Modest Mussorgsky (1839-1881)
Night on the bare mountain (1866-67, rev. Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, arranged two pianos, Nikolai Artsybushev (?))
