Claude Debussy (1862-1918)
Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune L87 
Violin Sonata in G minor L148 
Cello Sonata in D minor L144
String Quartet in G minor L91
The Nash Ensemble
rec. 2023/24, All Saints’ Church, East Finchley, London & Henry Wood Hall, London
Hyperion CDA68463 [76]

When reviewing Debussy’s piano trio recently, I couldn’t help extolling the music of Debussy by describing it as a true example of the ability to ‘paint’ his ideas on the page. This is not the first time that I have put it that way and I cannot see it being my last. Debussy’s music almost demands reference to that ability; it is what makes him truly unique among composers. In the same review I said ‘When I think of Debussy’s music, I always think of lazy picnics by a river on bright hazy sunlit days…’ That picture is certainly evoked once again in his ravishing Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune. 

This arrangement by David Walker for wind quintet, string quintet, harp, and crotales (I had to look them up: small “antique cymbals”), is one of those recordings that encourages you to regard a work in a completely different light. The usual reference point is when it is played by a full symphony orchestra and I watched an example of that with François-Xavier Roth conducting the LSO from seven years ago. Its lush orchestration provides the feeling of all-enveloping sound washing over you. It is surprising then – or, rather it was for me – that the present version does not sound sparse in any way, despite there only being twelve players involved. Obviously, you don’t get the wall of strings but the sheer musicality of those involved makes up for that and you are treated to a kind of ‘trompe l’oreille’; your brain is fooled into hearing a sum considerably larger than its parts. The single harp rather than the two in the LSO’s account making its presence felt just as significantly, and both flute and oboe play their part just as prominently as they do in that recording. It was interesting to watch the two players who tapped the tiny bell-like instruments, larger versions of which make up a set of crotales for, as far as I could determine, this version has a greater part for them than the standard version, making for a quite magical sound. Of course, you wouldn’t want this as the sole version of this magnificent work but it is certainly worth hearing and owning as an example of how Debussy’s unique voice comes through however it is presented. 

Another example of that unique voice is encapsulated in Debussy’s Violin Sonata in G minor. The very opening transports you to another place. The booklet notes make it obvious that Debussy was both ill and depressed during the First World War (who wouldn’t have been?) and writing it didn’t come easy – not that you get that impression from the music. It was also sad to read that when he gave the first performance of it with Gaston Poulet, it was to be his last ever concert, that the hall was but half full and the applause merely polite. It may be an old canard that the French never gave their own music the same attention as did other countries, but there are so many instances of that, that one could forgive anyone who subscribed to that opinion. The special aura that Debussy manages to create in all his works, the sense of the ethereal, is evident in this work from the violin’s first note. While there are periods of introspection to be found in it, the mood is generally upbeat and the ‘fantasque’ (as indicated in the description of the second movement) is never far from view. The finale lives up to its marking of ‘très animé’, the violin dancing along to a flourishing finish.

The second of Debussy’s originally projected six sonatas, of which he completed only three, is for the unusual combination of flute, viola and harp, which is entirely consistent with his innovative and unconventional view of the way music should be finding new forms of expression. It is only necessary to consider the three which never got written to understand how his mind worked, for the fourth was to be for oboe, horn and harpsichord, the fifth for trumpet, clarinet, bassoon and piano and the final one was to have incorporated all instruments featured in the previous five with the addition of a double bass. What a tantalising prospect and it is to be regretted we do not to have in the world. The second sonata is, as are all Debussy’s works, chock full of tunes and the dark tones of the viola set against the lightness of flute and harp make for a truly magical journey from start to finish.

The first sonata to be completed was for cello and piano and it was interesting to read that Debussy, while he used a form he described as ‘almost classical the in the good sense of the word’, also borrowed the cyclical form that César Franck first used in his early string quartet. However, in Debussy’s hands, it became more delicately refined; there are moments of tenderness as well as majesty. That tender nature is evident from the very first note from the piano and is then picked up by the cello; together they create a theme that knits together much of the material that makes up the body of the work. The second movement is somewhat restless, while the finale is full of long flowing lines. Towards the end the pace speeds up and suddenly, abruptly, it’s all over.  

In a previous review of Debussy’s piano trio I found myself expressing the view that it was strange that he should write only one when he was obviously so brilliant at the genre, and the same goes for his only string quartet. It is particularly true, I think, when you consider that it was his first mature chamber work. It is an impressive work with memorable tunes, wonderful harmonies and pathfinding ways of expression; take the second movement with its singing pizzicato. Paul Dukas was a great admirer of it and Ravel was considerably influenced by it, as his quartet of 1902-03 clearly  shows. Debussy also knew well how to tug at the heartstrings, which he does so successfully in the third movement, such that Edward Lockspeiser described it as having ‘a trance-like mood of contemplation’, one he often conjured in his works and which is part of that ‘painterly’ ability. In the final movement, we hear the main theme again but clothed differently and it leaves you seriously perplexed by his reluctance to follow up on such a successful work, acknowledged as such by so many critics and fellow musicians.

This disc combines the wonderful world of Debussy with the superb playing of the Nash Ensemble.  In addition, the arrangement of Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune is well worth hearing, giving as it does a new angle to a work we all think we know well. 

Steve Arloff

Previous review: Philip Harrison (January 2025)

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