‘A soupcon of Schubert, a sprinkling of Stravinsky, a generous helping of Chopin, a dash of Schumann, a sprig of Satie and a few drops of Ravel.’ Such amusing estimates diminish Poulenc’s engaging magic, the way his alternating blague and nostalgia are woven into so many wry and affectionate taunts and tributes. Such quality and elusiveness would have emerged more successfully in this second volume of Olivier Cazal’s Poulenc cycle if his performances had not been so relentlessly one-sided. A dazzling but unsubtle virtuoso, he revels in terms such as violent, brusque presser and triple fortissimo (the Fourth and Second Impromptus respectively). But his raging climax to Melancolie is Lisztian and unstylish and if he is fortissimo and tres anime in ‘Carillon’ from the delightful Suite francaise he is hardly tres gai.
Harsh and overly volatile he fails to convey how Poulenc’s more subjective demands can suggest the widest and most elegant variety of responses. The ‘Final’ from Les soirees de Nazelles (Poulenc’s keyboard masterpiece) packs a bruising punch, very much for those who like Poulenc taken by storm rather than stealth. The recordings faithfully capture the impact of Cazal’s attack but, despite the bargain price, there is no comparison here with the complete Poulenc sets of Pascal Roge (Decca) and Paul Crossley (Sony).'