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This
album of piano works by Rossini is third in a projected series which
will cover all his piano music. The pieces here are taken from three
various collections, Miscellanée pour piano, Album
pour les enfants dégourdis and Album pour piano, violin,
violoncelle, harmonium et cor - all late works written by Rossini
after the age of sixty-five, or what the composer himself jokingly
called Péches de Viellesse, the 'Sins of Old Age'.
One
wonders if these aren't sins as much as (if you will excuse the
pun) indulgences; idiomatically characterized, tasteful to a fault,
and performed impeccably by Paolo Giacometti, who also provides
the programme notes. Rossini had a singular self-deprecatory wit,
which is reflected in his music: calling his pieces Valse Torturée
('Tortured Waltz') or Des Tritons s'il vous Plaît ('Some
tritones, please'), and not without a sense of irony and also a
certain programmatic unity between the music and its title.
It
does make one wonder why most of Rossini's music has been so much
overshadowed by his operas and their overtures, and so little outside
this genre has been heard or performed. His early string sonatas
definitely also fall into this category, as does his choral music
and songs. In the Péches de Viellesse alone, Rossini
produced over a hundred and fifty objets d'art of which fourteen
are recorded here.
 If
this album is a little train of pleasurable delights, then Giacometti
must be the engineer and his period 1849 Erard pianoforte the engine
which pulls it along. With firmly refined technique at his fingertips
that bring out the bon vivant melismata and rich sonorities
in the music, Giacometti proves himself as a worthy advocate in
this recital.
The
Petite Penseé is sharply etched with much delicacy
and its character well-invoked. The following Une Bagatelle,
as the name suggests, opens with a grand introduction that leads
into an elegant swinging rhythm. The lyrical but diminuitive Mélodie
italienne is shaped by Giacometti's bold use of rubato and agogic
rhythms.
Of
the famous Petite Caprice in the style of Offenbach - Rossini
intended this as a parody of the Frenchman, so much in popular vogue
at the time. There are feliticious roulades of glissando
which are tossed off with much élan; no less than what one
might reasonably expect, even if the reading is somehow permeated
with an unspoken reservation of sorts. In a broader context, the
flow of the music could have been smoother along the edges and less
raucous - as also with the Mélodie candide, two tracks
later.
But
in the Échantillon de Blague mélodie, Giacometti
does not miss the mark in capturing the humour of the "melodic nonsense",
nor does the Impromptu tarantellisél fail to be anything
but a joyful scamper from the keyboard. Rossini's musical will,
as it were, comes in the form of the Marche et Réminiscenes,
with a funeral march interspersed by quotations from The Barber
of Seville, Otello and a certain gallop famously from
the overture to William Tell: Giacometti delights, as usual.
The
final work, Un petit Train de Plaisir, for which the album
is named, gets an added bonus in the form of a narrative voiceover,
albeit in French, by vocalist Tido Visser. This piece of programme
music tells of a tragicomical train journey - I'll have to think
twice before qualifying it as something "for children" - and Giacometti
here has chosen to add snippets of spoken narrative by Visser to
describe the action so that the listener "does not miss a single
moment of this absurd story."
These
episodes include: the train's departure, arrival at the next station,
derailment of the train, two casualties, one dead person in heaven
and another dead person in hell, a dirge, and the mockery of the
grief of nexts-of-kin, ending with the commentary, "All of this
is more than silly, but it is true."
It
is probably with less silliness and more good intention - and how
often have we heard that aphorism about good intentions and the
pathway to you-know-where - that Giacometti has chosen to sprinkle
his pianism with a spoken voice, but this really is an idea which
works better in the spontaniety of live performance than on a recording.
The dramaturgy of Giacometti's reading alone is more than sufficient
to draw a persuasive and clear sound-picture of the tragicomic train
ride.
The
reification of text, then, is quite unnecessary - even distracting
- and, I have to say, takes some getting used to. Visser, to his
credit, does an admirable job of narration and perhaps French-speaking
listeners may experience a less adverse reaction.
All
in all, this is a delightful cornucopia of high spirits and child-like
enjoyment conjured by Giacometti's ample pianism. The recording
is dry and boxy, which does not always favour the period timbre
of the piano. Still, this is an engagingly commendable disc, generous
in timing, and not an entirely bad starting point for those interested
in the piano music of Rossini.
Volume
2 
BENJAMIN
CHEE goes
to watch Starlight Express whenever he's in London. (Sentimental
reasons, long story.)
811:
16.01.2001
© Benjamin Chee
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original texts are copyrighted. Please seek permission from the
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