Admirers of Faure's piano music who already possess Paul Crossley's survey for CRD have probably also acquired Pascal Roge's recent recital (Decca (CD) 425 606-2DH, 5/90) which takes in five Nocturnes and three Barcarolles among other pleasures. Here is another digital recording from Paris, this time a complete oeuvre pour piano played by an older pianist of the French school. It is worth investigating; however, four full-price CDs do not come cheap, and although I acknowledge their usefulness I confess that I have felt the longueurs which can manifest themselves, even for a sympathetic listener, in less than top-class Faure playing. Doubtless part of the trouble does lie with the composer himself, for the kind of unassertive leisurely mood of his Nocturnes is difficult to sustain over the seven and a half minutes required by No. 1 in E flat minor, a piece containing no striking contrast of pace or key. But even with the shorter and more varied No. 2 in B major, I find Jean Hubeau himself to be prosaic—Roge brings more warmth and alertness to the music, both in the main Andantino espressivo section and in the minor-mode Allegro ma non troppo. Indeed, often Hubeau strikes me as merely accurate rather than spontaneous, as in the two-against-three rhythm of No. 3 (where he takes 4'55'' against Roge's 4'37''), and I don't find him to be as skilful as the younger man in balancing melody against accompaniment—the accompaniment here is too heavy—while in No. 4, too, I would always go to Roge for charm. Roge's sound is better too than that of Hubeau, with whom varied pianistic sonority seems in short supply—this is not just a matter of recording, for he seems two dimensional, too sparing in his use of the sustaining pedal and narrow in dynamics, so that all is illuminated by the same ordinary daylight.
However, Roge offers only a selection of Faure whereas the completeness of the present set is a major factor. But its level of interest worries me: I became very aware when listening that five of these 13 Nocturnes last over seven minutes, and do not think it is only love of Chopin which makes me feel that the French composer places great demands on a pianist by sometimes going on for a long time in rather the same way. Those demands need to be better met than they are here, and some of one's sense of elegant monotony must be laid at the pianist's door. His playing will not convert the unconverted, though I fear some may feel that its paleness and reticence is in itself stylish. I've often felt a lack of charm and imagination—try, for example, the Theme and Variations, Op. 73, to see what I am getting at: all the notes are there, but they sound dull and unappealing, and I wonder whether what is lacking is the kind of technical mastery which allows a pianist to go beyond sympathy with the notes and give us the flowering of a full identification with the music. Even the famous second melody in the F minor Impromptu doesn't have its usual lilting charm, and the lesser-known No. 4 could be much more winning. The same applies to the Third of the Songs without words, a lovely little piece that needs more rhythmic and tonal flexibility (and gets it from Roge); ditto for the Fourth Barcarolle in the same key of A flat major. Even the Mazurka, Op. 32, does not really invite us to dance.
To conclude: as I've already said, this is a useful issue for its sheer completeness, but I cannot find it to be a distinguished one such as would be fully worthy of this music. A faute de mieux at best.'