Apart from flautists and old-time record collectors who remember him as conductor of the Societe des Concerts du Conservatoire [coincidentally reappearing on CD this month in that role, see page 182—Ed], few will be familiar with the name of Philippe Gaubert. Yet besides being one of the leading flautists of his day (the favourite pupil of Taffanel, with whom he wrote a famous flute tutor), professor of that instrument at the Conservatoire, principal conductor and, later, artistic director of the Paris Opera, he composed a considerable amount of music; and to mark the fiftieth anniversary of his death here are all his works for flute and piano—four of them recorded for the first time—though this of course represents only a single aspect of his output.
The booklet note rightly insists that Gaubert was a composer-flautist rather than a flautistcomposer, and that in his music virtuosity takes second place to lyricism: that lyrical gift is conspicuous throughout this issue—the broad melodic line at the start of the Madrigal and the first section of the Ballade are but two examples. His elegant fluent style, which does not significantly change from the Romance written at the age of 26 to the Sonatine over 30 years later (though the theme of the latter's second movement is harmonically bolder, only the variations justifying its subtitle ''Hommage a Schumann''), owes much to Faure—no bad model to follow. There is a Debussyan opening to the second Esquisse and a freer sense of tonality in the First Sonata; like many French composers, he cannot resist an occasional glance at a pseudo-archaic idiom (as in the first movement of the Suite, each movement of which is dedicated to a distinguished French flautist), and in the finale of the Third Sonata he shows that he can write a canon with the best. The word which constantly springs to mind is 'charm': one need look no further for this than the Sicilienne, the pastoral start of the Second Sonata or the graceful Allegretto vivace of the First Sonata, while the ''Scherzo-Valse'' of the Suite is a winner.
All these works could scarcely find more engaging champions than the present interpreters. The Fantaisie and the Nocturne et Allegro scherzando are reissues, and anyone who has heard those performances will have no hesitation in welcoming this whole programme. It would be hard to resist Susan Milan's beauty of tone, range of dynamics and sparklingly clean and deft virtuosity, and in Ian Brown she has the unfailingly acute support of one of our most musicianly chamber-group pianists (his delicacy in the Allegro scherzando and rippling passagework in the 1908 Romance are a delight). Aided by one of the most faithful recordings I have yet heard, this is a very pleasurable set.'