I like the proportions of Dutoit's Franck—classical, slender, with a fine sense of forward movement and architecture. Here is a reading that manages both power and refinement in the work's often overweight tuttis: I confess my admiration for this symphony becomes sorely threatened at that moment in the finale where the slow movement's beautiful cor anglais theme becomes a grandiose tutti (bar 300, at 6'41'') but with what tact Dutoit balances its components. Perhaps the very opening is plainly stated; turn to Karajan (EMI) for the sense that something towering will emerge from the gothic mists and recesses, as indeed it does, though his 1969 sound is rather dense and airless. St Eustache, Montreal for Dutoit does allow the organistic timbres of the work to float and blend in an acoustic resembling that of Franck's beloved Ste Clotilde.
Dutoit's tempo relationships are all sensibly controlled (without any hint of the dullness that word implies). He doesn't maximize the contrast between the opening Lento and the subsequent Allegro as did Bernstein (DG, 3/83—nla). Neither
does he anticipate marked rallentandos well in advance as Monteux (RCA) often did. If my initial reaction was that, compared with Bernstein and Monteux, Dutoit was a touch bland, I can only say that over the last few days I have returned to him with increasing pleasure, not least for the Montreal violins' refined espressivo playing, the shining, incisive brass and Dutoit's elegant, flowing way with the piece.
Monteux's Franck (the 1961 recording almost belies its age) is also coupled with the d'Indy (conducted by Munch, whose 1959 recording doesn't), and it's at mid-price, so the new Decca would have to be exceptional in the d'Indy to offer real competition. It is. Some may argue that Munch's rustic, reedier cor anglais is more apt for the opening mountain song, but it's a hard heart that does not melt to the warmth and beauty of Dutoit's woodwind soloists here (the Montreal acoustic lending a wide horizon to the proceedings—Munch's Boston forces are very closely miked). One's ear is constantly beguiled by the range of colours d'Indy draws from his orchestra (the rippling cascades of woodwind, piano and harps in the first movement's development, at 5'33''; as fresh and sparkling as a well known brand of eau minerale); one notes the influence of Berlioz and Saint-Saens, but also a prophetic Debussian refinement of texture and lightness of touch. And make no mistake, it's also a symphony with a very sophisticated use of cyclic and variation technique. Jean-Yves Thibaudet is the eloquent soloist who succeeds in avoiding the impression he is the star performer in a piano concerto without impairing the character of his contribution; so does Nicole Henriot-Schweitzer for Munch, but her piano sounds as if it should have been donated to the Queen Vic.
This contributes to the feeling that Munch's finale is perhaps a little too close to Poulenc's Paris for comfort. Dutoit is better here at suggesting ''the light-heartedness of the mountains'' (the composer's own description). Though for sheer verve and technical display, prepare to be amazed at the Montreal trumpets' and cornets' quick-fire ostinato from fig. N (3'52''), and if Dutoit paces the closing pages a little sedately for the marking Tres vite, the score's accompanying indication of dotted minim=144 would surely have produced an undignified scramble.
If you're not familiar with the d'Indy, I do urge you to repair the omission. Cherishable as the Munch is, with the Montreal orchestra rarely sounding more committed (the instrumental solos in the slow movement are exquisitely drawn) and a faultless Decca balance, Dutoit's is the one to have.'