If, like me you consider Duparc's songs are the most rewarding in the French language you will rejoice at these two issues. These marvellous pieces have been poorly represented in the LP catalogue but it is a bit unfortunate for the British issue that the French one has been released simultaneously since it shows up some deficiencies on the Hyperion issue. Although I usually prefer a recital where more than one singer takes part, in this case, I feel that the division of labours isn't precisely happy, mainly because Sarah Walker, for all her skills as an intrepreter of the Duparc idiom, is in indifferent voice. As soon as she exerts any pressure on her tone it loses focus and becomes to be frank, uncomfortably wobbly. That vitiates ler otherwise admirable accounts of such outright masterpieces as L'invitation au voyage and La vie anterieure. When she can sing predominantly in a mezza voce as in Chanson triste all is well. Thomas Allen has always been a specialist in melodies, his voice finely attuned to the genre, and here he offers some remarkable readings—deeply felt in the moving Lamento, vividly dramatic in Le manoir de Rosemonde. If Francois Le Roux hadn't been there to give that added frisson a real Francophone can offer in such pieces, all would be well but it is a case of the better being the enemy of the good.
Without hesitation, I would say Le Roux's are the most successful performances of these masterpieces in miniature since the war, surpassing (just) those by Souzay and Kruysen. In his foreword to this issue the veteran composer Henri Sauguet comments: ''The interpretations of Francoise Le Roux and Danielle Borst [who only sings the two songs designed for a female singer] are remarkable, not just for their vocal qualities and their emotional commitment but also for their exemplary use of words, which illustrates perfectly the profound unity of poetry and music.'' That almost says all that needs to be said, at any rate about Le Roux who has the lion's share of the burden. He is the young baritone who caused such a stir as Pelleas (a role he is soon to sing at Covent Garden) and in a recital (including much Duparc) at the Edinburgh Festival in 1985. He has since confirmed his worth at the Wigmore Hall and at Covent Garden as Lescaut and Papageno.
His voice isn't as ingratiating as Souzay's or indeed as Allen's—it can sometimes take on a rough edge but his understanding of the Duparc idiom is second to none, rivalling that of Panzera and Bernac in the distant past, precisely because he realizes what French can convey when it is sung with a scrupulous care over diction. Added to that he and his admirable pianist, Jeff Cohen, seem almost always to find exactly the right tempo for each melodie, not indulging in the excessively slow speeds adopted by some non-Francophone singers today—though not, by and large, Walker and Allen who have Roger Vignoles as reliable accompanist. Right at the start in their arrestingly immediate account of L'invitation au voyage, the French partnership announce how each song is to be treated as a new revelation. The virulently biting attack at the start of the histrionic Manoir de Rosemonde contrasted with the world-weariness of its second half, the sad sighings of Lamento, the nervous desperation of Testament (not taken too slowly), the still contemplation of Extase are all ideally adumbrated.
In Serenade, an 1869 setting of Gabriel Marc seldom recorded before, Le Roux shows himself quite able to float a gentle, soft-grained line when he wishes to. Coincidentally he takes exactly the same time over Elegie as does Bernac in his exemplary version (HMV—nla), and here at ''muettes, tristes, glacees'', Le Roux demonstrates palpably his feeling for words. Then he ideally captures the inexpressibly sad, empty accents of Soupir, another Bernac favourite, although his tone, slightly gravelly, certainly isn't as smooth as Bernac's. He rises superbly to the challenge of Phidyle, catching its tender voluptuousness through an exemplary legato and mezza voce (though there is an annoying tendency here to slide up to certain notes). In La vie anterieure, literally the composer's swansong, the climaxes are finely judged and Cohen supplies powerful support.
A piece I hadn't encountered before is La fuite, a duet dating from 1871, whose breathless accompaniment is strongly played by the very positive Cohen. Here Le Roux is partnered by Borst, another dedicated Duparcian. She catches some of its trance-like beauty but not as much as Dame Janet Baker in her two recordings of it for EMI (nla). She also offers the Romance de Mignon, not in the official canon and perhaps Duparc's weakest song, not to be compared with Wolf's mightier setting. I prefer her performance in the original key, to Walker's which is transposed down.
The recorded sound on the REM disc is just what I like to hear. For once in a way these days, the voice is very present not somewhere in the mid-distance, and this is entirely suited to this repertory. The Hyperion, though satisfactory hasn't quite so much presence. All in all, the Le Roux disc is a 'must' for anyone in the least interested in great performances of melodies.R1 '8909111'