In addition to the six organ pieces Durufle eventually allowed to be published this disc also contains three of the improvisations he reconstructed from recordings by his former teacher, Louis Vierne. That David Patrick can find room for this extra ten minutes’ worth of music (and wonderful stuff it is too) is a testament to his stunning virtuosity. Every time I hear a recording of Patrick playing French repertoire I emerge from the experience with my head spinning. Here are fingers which shimmer over the keys at lightning speeds, feet which have such nimbleness one suspects the ankles are made of elastic and, as if such dazzling velocity were not enough, he invariably finds registrations on organs which produce the kind of brilliance of tone that singes the tops of one’s ears. In this absolutely no criticism can be aimed at Neil Collier who has captured the Coventry organ in one of the most vivid recordings yet of this wonderful instrument; “a gift for stereophonic listening” as I saw it once described.
But I quickly tire of what I hear here. How I long for the underlying tranquillity, that sense of awe and spirituality which exudes from John Scott’s classic recording on the admittedly more mellow instrument in St Paul’s Cathedral. Scott also uses the mens’ voices to intone the plainchants for the Veni Creator. Patrick, one suspects, would resent the intrusion of anyone who might cause his unflagging energy to be momentarily eclipsed. This is brilliant technical playing; not a note out of place, not a registration change clumsily handled. But for me Durufle’s works have a musical intensity which cannot be revealed in a performance which sees them primarily as classic French virtuoso display music.'