Alongside more familiar French music, this issue offers new repertory, or repertory in an unfamiliar context, such as the cellist's transcription of Ravel songs and the Messiaen ''Louange'' which I have not hitherto heard separated from his monumental Quatuor pour la fin du temps. There's nothing insubstantial about a recital which includes this ''long and infinitely slow phrase'' (Messiaen's description) as well as the Debussy Sonata and the Sonata that Poulenc began in 1940 but only completed after the war. For my taste, the Prologue in the Debussy is short of spaciousness and the other two movements, while compelling, could be more relaxed. I prefer the ultra-sensitive Rostropovich and Britten on Decca, while Isserlis and Devoyon on Virgin Classics are too lightweight.
Famous as a teacher, with Copland, Francaix and Sir Lennox Berkeley among her pupils, Nadia Boulanger won a second prize in the 1908 Prix de Rome but for all that is hardly known as a composer: however, her Trois Pieces are well worth hearing and are in turn richly melodious, charmingly ingenious in canon at the octave, and Gallic in an unbuttoned, jazzy way. Though Auric wrote fine film scores in the 1940s, including those for Dead of Night and La symphonie pastorale, few people realize he was composing long after that. He is sadly neglected for one of Les Six. His Imaginees II (1969) were written for Rostropovich and give the cello and piano a trenchant dialogue that owes something to serial techniques, but also reminds us of his dramatic flair.
The Ravel work (his last) needs no introduction, but given Strauss's linking of the cello and Don Quixote this transcription has just the right feel to it—I do hope other cellists will seek it out—and it is brilliantly and affectionately played. As for the Messiaen, no brief description can suffice for such visionary music and I will merely say that it is revealed as intense and persuasive here. The Poulenc Sonata, first played by Pierre Fournier with the composer, is a four-movement work lasting over 20 minutes, but not grandiloquent. Indeed, I agree with the booklet note calling it light-hearted and having the ''essence of the French spirit'' and would add that for many listeners this finely played piece will be a real decouverte. I find Isserlis too self-consciously charming and brilliant here; the Fischer duo are better at letting Poulenc speak for himself. Their recording is immediate though not ideally atmospheric.'