The only overlaps between these two discs are of the Mouvements perpetuels and Poulenc's own transcription of the Adagietto from Les biches; but comparison immediately makes plain how very different are the respective performances. Eric Parkin plays them—as he does everything in his programme—with clarity, expressiveness great sensitivity and complete fidelity to all tonai and rhythmic nuances in the text: Poulenc himself is considerably more casual, controlled though cool in lyrical pieces but outrageously reckless in fast ones, scamping and smearing detail in, for example, the third Mouvement perpetuel. It is not easy to reconcile his quietly modest playing of 'innocent' pieces like the first Novelette or the first Nocturne with the sketchy mess he makes of the second Novelette, taken at a manic speed which, in the words of the excellent commentator, ''verges on the impossible and occasionally reaches it''. Other pieces which suffer from this madcap haste are the Rondeau from Les biches and the Caprice from Le bal masque, whose frenetic glee results in smudging. Poulenc always insisted on ''beaucoup de pedale''—the second Nocturne and the Intermezzo No. 3 are indeed marked ''dans un halo de pedale''—but in the Improvisations he is apparently kicking the poor thing. He is at his neatest in the ''concerto choreographique'' Aubade, though ensemble with the orchestra (especially at starts of movements) is precarious; and that this may well have been his fault seems to be confirmed by his playing in the Wind Trio, in which he hurries and whose first movement he takes at a vertiginous scramble. Illuminating as it is to hear a composer's own solo interpretations, it must be said that the most satisfactory performances here are the Airs chantes (by the soprano who in 1928 gave them their first performance) and of Le bestiaire, sung with rock-steady tone and exemplary enunciation by Claire Croiza. In the transfers from 78rpm discs the original surface noise has not been lost—the Aubade is the cleanest in this regard—but though it is relatively easy to dismiss this from one's mind there are obtrusive clicks in the Nocturnes (emanating from a bad scratch or crack in No. 1) and the Trio.
Parkin is infinitely more secure technically—and, of course, he benefits from modern recording (though fortes are a bit clangy in places)—and he is by no means lacking in brilliance, as can be heard in Napoli, the well-known percussive Toccata from the Trois Pieces of 1928 and his cleancut motoric Presto of the Suite in C (which, pace the sleeve-note, dates from 1920, not 1926), and he gives much pleasure with his tonal shadings in the Scriabinesque ''Pastorale'' (of the Trois pieces) and the first cadenza of the Soirees de Nazelles—in whose first variation he admirably recaptures the composer's impishness. (I am sorry that in this major piano work he should have opted for the abbreviated version, which omits variations 4 to 6 and made an even larger cut in the finale than that printed in the score.) In its engaging presentation of Poulenc's extraordinary ability to assimilate a magpie's nest of styles into a homogeneous whole this disc (which I observe is labelled ''Vol. 1'') is in the same street as Pascal Roge's Poulenc selection (Decca 417 438-1DH; 417 438-2DH, 7/87), which was rightly received with acclaim. I look forward to the second volume. R1 '8810078'