In August 1980 these forces recorded for Decca a version of Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe that has, justifiably, acquired classic status. Given that the extensive recording programme that ensued produced some of the finest Ravel ever to grace the catalogue, it is surprising that Dutoit has only now turned his attention to Debussy.
If asked to pinpoint one special feature that has informed these Montreal recordings, apart from the imagination and refinement of Dutoit and his players, it would be the luminous quality of Decca's sound; the acoustic of St Eustache used to provide just the right amount of atmospheric halo around the instruments without ever confusing the image in tuttis. It is, in short, the perfect vehicle for realizing Debussy's elucidation of the meaning for him of 'Nocturne' as signifying ''all the various impressions and special effects of light that the word suggests''.
And how acutely Dutoit judges the degree of expression and subtle contrast needed for ''Nuages'', their ''slow, solemn motion'' briefly enlivened by careful observance of the un peu anime at fig. 7 (about two-thirds into the movement) and by the illuminating tones of flute and harp answering solo strings, the former focused but not over bright, as if aware of their transience in this subdued, monochromatic study.
It is a pity the timpani and harps that introduce the procession in ''Fetes'' are rather over-insistent for the ppp markings, but the distance of the trumpets is well judged—Haitink's trumpets (Philips) start off in the foreground!—and the mounting excitement of this passage intensified by thrilling marcato contributions from the Montreal horns. In the outer sections of this movement Dutoit manages the contrast of dynamics more effectively than both Haitink and Previn (EMI), and Previn surely is a little measured here for the ''vibrating, dancing rhythms of the atmosphere''.
In ''Sirenes'' one becomes aware that Dutoit is using a different edition of the score from the revised Jobert (1930) edition used by his competitors. The differences are small (minor alterations to wind parts and moments where the choral line is given over to woodwind and vice versa) and don't significantly affect the situation. Much more striking here are questions of internal balance. Like Previn's, Dutoit's Sirens are a very identifiable presence, placed directly behind the orchestra. Haitink's chorus, by contrast, is a disembodied, ethereal one—the effect is extremely beautiful but the ladies are often obscured in tuttis. This is not serious, but a glance at the score will show that Debussy was concerned that this should not happen. Fortunately, as they are more closely balanced, both Dutoit's and Previn's Sirens sing most seductively. Dutoit's dynamic shading is closer to Debussy's markings than Previn's but his waves are not quite as ''silvered by moonlight''.
So, is the Gramophone Award-winning Haitink version supplanted by the newcomer? Despite my above reservations, I think not. Haitink's Nocturnes have the quality of a dream; more flowing tempos, rapt playing from the Concertgebouw and analogue engineering which reproduces the sound of the orchestra with such beauty (and, admittedly, slightly blurred edges in the quieter moments) that it is, literally, too good to be true. This, for me, places it in a special class, and no praise could be higher for Dutoit's account than to say that, in its different way, it is just as effective.
Haitink's coupling is a superb account of Jeux which is, none the less, rather short measure compared to Previn's La mer and Dutoit's complete Images (isn't it time Haitink's Debussy recordings were repackaged more sensibly?).
The new ''realities'' that Debussy spoke of, in connection with his Images, are borne out in the sharper outlines, particularly of the two outer movements of ''Iberia'', and in their peopled landscape. Dutoit, with generally faster tempos, and a more direct manner than Rattle in his recent account for EMI, and aided by a more brightly lit recording, is less mysterious and seems content to let Debussy's fabulous orchestration speak for itself. Dutoit's English dawn in ''Gigues'' is frostier than Rattle's, the muted trumpets and flute cutting cleanly through the mist. The dance itself is jauntier, less strange and melancholic, but it should, perhaps, be remembered that the original title for this portrait was ''Gigues Tristes''.
The first movement of ''Iberia'' starts with an incisive sforzato, and the instrumental interplay here is very satisfying. The scents of the night in the second movement are fanned by quite a strong breeze, but Dutoit's handling of the transition to the last movement is a bit prosaic, the early morning stirrings of distant bells and horn very present and lacking in fantasy. Rattle and Previn (EMI) are more imaginative here—it is only two bars long, but it is such a wonderful moment. As if to make amends, Dutoit's holiday morning is the liveliest of all, truly gai et fantasque. Dutoit makes less of the contrast between action and passivity than Rattle in ''Rondes des printemps'' but the light and lithe playing is a constant joy, as is the precisely focused side drum in the movement's second half.
Previn's Images are spectacularly engineered (and won the 1979 Gramophone Engineering Award), but his manner in ''Gigues'' and the finale of ''Iberia'' is rather deadpan. Rattle's account is one of the best things he has done: it is a labour of love and intelligent observation; every bar speaks of a unanimity of approach between conductor and recording producer concerned to interpret Debussy's instructions as effectively as possible. Consistent with that approach is a more subtly illuminated soundstage, and there is no doubt that Dutoit's new version, whilst not quite in the same imaginative league, lets you hear more of the notes. I would not want to be without either, but if forced to choose, would opt for Rattle (his coupling is an inspired Jeux and music for Le Roi Lear).'