Although it is a rarity in the concert hall, the Chausson Concert has been fairly well served by the gramophone. This is the fifth account that I can think of on LP in recent years (not counting the EMI Pathe Marconi Reference reissue of the 1931 version with Thibaud and Cortot), and there are already two on Compact Disc. When it appeared three years ago, Max Harrison thought the CBS version with Perlman, Bolet and the Juilliard Quartet the best he had encountered up to that point, and the ''most truthful of the several recordings it has received'', a view I would warmly endorse. Neither the appearance of a subsequent version from Harmonia Mundi with Jean-Claude Pennetier and the Pasquier Trio with two colleagues, nor the recent Suk, Hala, Suk Quartet on Supraphon materially affected the picture. But, let me say straight away that this newcomer is even more persuasive and displaces the fine CBS version.
Sorabji called the Concert ''one of the most original and beautiful chamber works of modern times'', and after listening to this performance I would be tempted to agree. There is an unforced quality about the playing of Augustin Dumay, Jean-Philippe Coliard and the Muir Quartet that I much like, and they benefit from very natural recorded sound. The Juilliard, on the other hand, are more closely observed than the Muir and though both Perlman and Bolet give highly sensitive accounts of the solo parts, the closer balance tells. In this newcomer there is genuine repose in the quieter sections and a more idiomatic feeling. The Juilliards tend to 'project' rather more and not to trust the natural eloquence of the music. Chausson's textures are often dense in incident, indeed, the young Debussy once wrote, ''You bring such heavy pressure to bear on your musical ideas that they dare not present themselves to you in their natural guise for fear of not being suitably dressed... a thing I should like to see you lose is your preoccupation with the inner parts''.
This new account clarifies the textures without any loss of homogeneity or atmosphere. The CBS version seems less well attuned to Chausson's sensibility, less well able to convey the feeling of France in the last decade of the last century. In the Sicilienne, for example, Dumay, Collard and the Muirs are much closer to Chausson's marking (dotted crotchet = 40), and though the CBS team are not unreasonably faster, this feels the more idiomatic and subtle performance. In the opening of the slow movement, too, the colours are subtle and one is drawn completely into the atmosphere—so, to be fair, one is in the Perlman, Bolet, Juilliard account. Both Dumay and Collard are scrupulous in their observance of the dynamic markings, as for that matter is the quartet and this helps to ventilate the sometimes thick textures. Yet there is no want of passion and fire.
Quite apart from the quality of the performance and recording, this newcomer offers an additional attraction in the shape of the unfinished C minor Quartet that Chausson composed at the end of his short life, and which is—to the best of my knowledge—not otherwise available on record. The Concert is a long piece and lasts more than 40 minutes: the finale is accommodated on the second side, the three movements of the quartet occupy the remaining space. (One's thoughts turn to Debussy's words, for there is perhaps too much activity in the inner parts in the scherzo, wonderful though it is.) It was while working on the last pages of the recapitulation that Chausson set out on his fatal bicycle ride and the score was put into its final shape by Vincent d'Indy. It is a finely-wrought work which at times has just a suggestion of late Faure. The Muir Quartet play excellently and I should add for the benefit of those who were disappointed by their LP of the Franck Piano Quintet with Collard (EMI EL270159-1, 4/85), that the sound in both works on this Chausson issue is vastly superior.'