The late Thomas Igloi's CRD recording of the Faure cello sonatas had no more than two morceaux de violoncelle to fill up and made for a more substantial disc, I think, than this one. Isserlis and Devoyon give us only the Second Sonata, which all cellists seem to favour at the expense of the First, and then a string of six pieces, two of them transcriptions. Less substantial it may be, but I dare say for most people it will not be less attractive. The elliptical utterances and refinement of expression characteristic of Faure's late chamber music can be a barrier to anyone accustomed to find a way in to his beautifully wrought music through the charm of the surface. Martin Cooper put it well when he wrote (in French Music; London: 1951) that only the attentive listener will unfailingly distinguish between the power of tranquil thought, which is the true character of this music, and the distinguished monotony that is the superficial listener's main impression. Familiarity is the key to this private world. Since Isserlis and Devoyon are such a good partnership and powerful advocates for the Second Sonata, I hope they will essay the neglected First before long.
Piano accompanying cello is fine, but neither the Hyperion nor the old CRD seems to me to get the balance of cello and piano as a true duo quite right. Though fresher on the new issue, the piano sound on both is a shade too open. The closely imitative writing in the first movement of the G minor Sonata shows up the imbalance: when shadowing the other instrument, the pianist's left hand sounds a little too distant in relation to the cello and not clear enough. And yet this is a performance which carries all before it. Igloi and Benson are also good but Isserlis and Devoyon really do make you feel the movement was conceived on a single breath. In the second, they are clearly superior. It's a movement which was originally written as a Chant funeraire for wind band for a ceremony at the Invalides marking the centenary of the death of Napoleon—a noble lament not unlike the tone of the Elegie, at least in part. But in the sonata it's music which needs more shaping, colouring and variety of character than I hear in Igloi's seamless (and rather quick over a minute shorter) account. His record will continue to be useful, but in the Second Sonata the palm must go to the newcomers. Isserlis is indeed fortunate to be playing with one of the best of the younger French pianists. The more I listen to them the more I like them, and I hope to hear them again in many other things.'