The bonus of two early pieces is not quite such an attractive proposition from Marie-Claire Alain as might at first sight appear. For a start neither account is particularly noteworthy: Le banquet celeste seems inappropriately fast and urgent. And also value for money isn't solely a matter of playing time. I for one would far rather have Robert Sherlaw-Johnson's short but remarkably informative notes which more than compensate for the 13-minute shorter Continuum disc. Against this, Erato have merely reprinted the Biblical sentences with which Messiaen prefaces each movement of La nativite du Seigneur.
There are remarkable similarities between these two performances of La nativite. Both are highly-charged, intense and devoid of any interpretative novelty or idiosyncrasy: they stand above many other versions currently available in their meticulous attention to detail of the score and in the precision and musicality of their playing. There is nothing here which smacks of personal display nor, indeed, of display of a particular organ; a facet which extends to the accompanying booklets, neither of which gives any biographical information about the players, and only Erato go so far as to print a basic specification of the German instrument in Lucerne. These two discs are simply concerned with presenting the music, a distressingly rare phenomenon in organ recordings.
The organs are very different, of course, and while both fulfil Messiaen's requirements more than adequately, my personal preference is for the smoother, better blended sound of the Salisbury instrument. The Lucerne one has some very strong mutations which over-emphasize non-unison harmonics. Alain also uncovers a horribly piercing pedal stop for ''Desseins eternels'' which causes a most disconcerting rattle (3'13''). This should never have been allowed through. I suspect, though, that Messiaen himself would approve of the persistent little bird who sings away so merrily in the background throughout the first two movements.
My personal preference also sides with Bowyer in the one significant interpretative difference between them. He is of a generation for whom Messiaen is almost an establishment figure; who don't see in his music the earth-shattering originality and unconventionality of style which would seem such a potent force to players of Alain's generation. While Bowyer takes these exotic rhythms in his stride, gliding over them with the ease and familiarity anyone would feel with, say, a Mendelssohn sonata, Alain points this aspect of the music with a deliberation and emphasis which verges on the awkward.'