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 The
introduction of Olivier Messiaen's two most important orchestral
works to the super-budget catalogue - here under Naxos - cannot
be too highly overstated. While there have been several other renditions
of these works available as an increasing awareness of Messiaen's
compositions grows, none have (at this time of writing) yet appeared
in this price range; certainly not the two together, in any case.
The
Turangalîla-Symphonie is a truly massive paean to spirituality,
with its overt influences from Hinduism. The title itself is in
Sanskrit, made up of two words: "Turanga" denotes time, surging
ever onward, held back by "Lîla", which signifies "play",
articulating the flow of time with drama. Together they encompass
the compound notions of oppostion, creation and destruction, and
love.
The
work owes its existence to the conductor Sergei Koussevitsky, who
commissioned Messiaen to write something for the Boston Symphony,
with complete freedom as to the kind of work, its length and size,
and most importantly, the liberty of taking as much time as Messiaen
needed to finish it. This beneficence was promptly repaid by the
composer, who - although not exactly a fast or prolific composer
- required only just over two years to come up with Turangalîla.
| Ondes
Martenot
With
the advent of electronic sound after the turn of the previous
century, a variety of exotic electrical instruments started
to appear. Of them all, the only extant instrument still in
use (more or less) is the ondes Martenot, ondes
being French for "waves". It is named after its inventor and
dates from the late 1930s.
|
 Sistine
Martenot, sister of the inventor of the ondes Martenot, Maurice. |
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The
reason for its endurance, not including its potentially fascinating
variations of sound and timbre, has to be attributed to the
composers who wrote important works for it - much in the same
way that the basset horn, for a time, was kept alive by the
music of Mozart.
Apart
from Messiaen's Turangalîla-Symphonie and Trois
Petites Liturgies, we can also include Honneger's Jeanne
d'Arc au bûcher and Koechlin's Seven Stars Symphony
as key works of the period which featured the instrument.
In the latter-named work, its sound was used to portray the
character of no less a luminary than Marlene Dietrich.
The
sound of the ondes Martenot is an eerily piercing wail;
in some ways artificial and inhuman, in other ways mysterious
and fascinating. In Norman del Mar's seminal treatise Anatomy
of the Orchestra, he includes it rather tellingly between
the zither and the human voice.
The
instrument can be played in two ways, described in notation
as au clavier and ruban. The former makes use
of the keyboard, a five-octave span similar to that of a piano,
with the additional ability of broad vibratos and quarter-tones.
The latter style is an entirely different affair: the player
wears a metal ring on the right forefinger, controlling a
ribbon across a condenser to produce the desired pitch, using
the keyboard as a visual guide to achieve portamento and glissando
effects.
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The
result was a massive ten-movement work built on diatonic chords
and systematically derived chromatic modes based on Asiatic Indian
and Balinese gamelan influences. Bernstein gave the premiere of
the work in Boston in December 1949. Significantly, the instrumentation
included, in addition to a piano obbligato and huge percussion
section, the electronic ondes Martenot. The nature of the
music, freely formed after four central themes "found anywhere in
the work", is radical and abstruse, and for most listeners, quite
an unforgettable experience.
Antoni
Wit takes on this Everest - more accurately, this range of Himalayan
peaks and summits - with an irrepressible earnestness and flair.
Maestro Wit has had the benefit of having worked with the PNRSO
for a long time, as principal conductor and artistic director for
the last seventeen years, and manages to elicit an empathic response
from his players in this lengthy and challenging work.
The
introduction is strong and the first exposition of the love theme
is admirable. François Weigel gives virtuosic support from
the piano; as does Thomas Bloch on ondes Martenot. The first
dream sequence of Turangalîla is a schizophrenic mise
en scène of moods, leading up in repeated sequences to
the dream theme. The conflict is would up very tightly by Weigel's
obbligato, leading into the metamorphosis of the second movement:
his cadenzas are brilliant.
There
is real swing in the jazz-like fifth movement - a strongly-characterized
joy, as it is titled, in the blood of the stars. Maestro Wit has
no lack of lyrical freedom, with a definitively atmospheric contribution
from the ondes Martenot - not positioned here as an out-and-out
concertante instrument despite its novelty, but more of a willing
accompanist in the rank-and-file. The conclusion is resounding.
The
following movement is sharply contrasted against the preceding one
with a restlessness that propels the music onwards - here again
with some help from the ondes Martenot. The pianistic contribution
in the second Turangalîla sequence is exuberant and
wildly ecdysiastic (in the aesthetic sense, of course.) I found
it "unputdownable", to use a literary reviewing term, in listening
to it.
The
Développement de l'Amour section is rendered by Wit
and the PNRSO as a stimulating - in more ways than one - eclectism,
setting the stage for the last two movements. In the finale, the
interplay between the orchestral tuttis crafted by Wit and the solo
piano expositions by Weigel, against the electronic canvas provided
by Bloch, raises the music to the level of apotheosis.
This
indulgent reading, which is spread across two discs, may be excessively
lengthy and quite possibly anaesthesize the newcomer to the delights
to be experienced herein. No matter; the work can also be appreciated
in small parts, but taken in the greater whole, there is a discernible
and purposeful emotional objective which Wit manages to discover
in this music.
In
the less-than-epigrammatic filler, Wit offers L'ascension,
the most significant and last orchestral output in Messiaen's works
of juvenilia. The first verse of the méditations finds
long, sonorous brasses on sustained chords which are thoughtful
and contemplative. The second verse contains some excellent woodwind,
although the conclusion is slightly less fulfilling. There are passages
reminiscent of Turangalîla
in the third verse, with the orchestra superbly virtuosic.
On
the whole, this is an outstanding performance of Messiaen. Wit manages
to capture the Frenchman's idiomatic style very well and this rendition,
amongst others, stands as a testimonial to the capabilities of the
PNRSO. There are no complaints about the quality of the sound, which
is bright and fresh. Weigel and Bloch also deserve a share of the
credit: Weigel taking on his demanding part with an incisive and
deeply-felt contribution and Bloch evoking a very convincing soundscape
indeed.
BENJAMIN
CHEE
is somehow reminded of Gaudí's Sagrada Familia whenever
he listens to the Turangalîla.
820:
13.12.2000 ©Benjamin Chee
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