Not only is William Bennett one of the finest flautists of the present day, but the friends he has gathered round him for this disc include some of our leading chamber-music soloists, and together they present first-class performances of some of Villa-Lobos's wind compositions. Pride of place must go to the Quintet, a quirkily entertaining and highly complex multi-sectional work that is superbly played—marvellously neatly, light-hearted in spirit, and with perfect internal balance and subtle tonal gradations. It is given in the original instrumentation for woodwind instruments only, an infinitely more satisfactory combination than the alternative, which replaces the cor anglais by the horn (adopted by the Brazilian team on Chant du Monde and, back in 1965, by a New York ensemble on a Nonesuch LP—nla), thereby distorting the tonal proportions and necessitating some tampering with the other parts. The only work here in which Bennett himself does not appear is the Trio, which, unless I am mistaken, has not been represented in a UK issue since a Nixa LP 34 years ago. It is a spiky, atonal piece, depending almost entirely (since there are no melodic themes) on twitching rhythms that thrust energetically against each other: it's exhilarating in a heartless kind of way, and typical of its period (1921), if not the kind of music to win new friends except those who can admire instrumental virtuosity.
All the other items here are duets for flute and one other instrument. The longest and latest (1950) is the curious Assobio a jato (''The jet whistle''), in which Bennett, admirably supported by Charles Tunnell, indulges in finelyjudged rubatos in the first movement, shows off his low register in the pensive Adagio, and revels in the huge upward skirls of the finale. Of more musical significance, perhaps, is the Bachianas brasileiras No. 6, sensitively shaped and shaded by both artists their French rivals on EMI unfortunately blot their copy-book by getting out from each other 15 bars before the end. Villa-Lobos clearly delighted in setting up elaborately conflicting rhythms, a trait seen again in the Choros No. 2, which starts with quasi-humorous syncopations but whose two voices rapidly develop a sturdy independence that takes players of uncommon brilliance and mutual responsiveness to fuse into a whole—which is the case here. The subtlety of tonal nuances exemplified far outshines that shown by the Brazilian pair on Chant du Monde.
And finally there are three trifles for flute and guitar, of which the chief is the Distribution of flowers. In its hieratically-poised stillness, Turibio Santos was far too assertive instead of being content to accompany his flautist: that mistake is not made in this performance, which is full of delicate gradations of tone. The ending, on the edge of sound, is breath-taking in its effect.'