Charles Dutoit

A trim, at times, almost balletic Falstaff. If that seems a ludicrous contradiction, I should explain that it refers to Dutoit's spirited interpretation of the work, not the central character, though Falstaff himself has shed a few pounds in the process but is no less loveable. Indeed, Dutoit's swift tempo for the second section (at the Boar's Head) has the theme for Falstaff's 'cheerful look and pleasing eye' sounding less like Tovey's understandable misunderstanding of it as ''blown up like a bladder with sighing and grief''. The trimming down process is abetted by the Montreal sound, with lean, agile strings and incisive brass (the horns are magnificent). Some may feel a lack of warmth in the characterization. I certainly felt that the first presentation of Prince Harry's theme (0'40'') could have done with a richer string sonority. Doubtless, too, there will be collectors who, at moments, miss the generous humanity of Barbirolli, or the Straussian brilliance of Solti. And although Mackerras is wonderful in the dream interludes and Falstaff's death, the start of his fourth section, with Falstaff's rush to London only to be rejected by the new King, is short on teeming excitement and anticipation. (Gramophone)

For listeners who prefer their Ravel lushly textured, luminously colored, and luxuriantly impressionistic, this four-disc set of his orchestral music performed by Charles Dutoit and the Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal will be just the thing. Recorded between 1981 and 1995 in warmly opulent Decca sound and including all the canonical works plus the two piano concerts and the opera L'Enfant et les sortiléges, Dutoit's approach to Ravel is decidedly sensual, even tactile. One can feel the excitement in the closing "Dance générale" of Daphnis et Chloé, sense the energy in La Valse, smell the sea in Une barque sur l'océan, and touch the dancer's flushed skin in Boléro. This is not to say that details are lost in Dutoit's performances – with the superlative playing of the Montreal orchestra, one can assuredly hear everything in the scores. Nor is this to say that Dutoit neglects the music's clear shapes and lucid forms – with a decisive beat and a clean technique, Dutoit's interpretations are models of clarity. But it is assuredly to assert that, for sheer aural beauty, these recordings cannot be beat. With the very virtuosic and very French playing of Pascal Rogé in the two piano concertos plus very characterful singing in L'Enfant, this set will be mandatory listening for all those who love Ravel.

Among modern recordings of the opera, this one is a safe bet, assuming you want a safe version of this opera. Unlike Herbert von Karajan's oppressively string-heavy reading with the Berlin Philharmonic on EMI, this is a balanced, idiomatic account of the score, given a special luster by the Montreal Symphony Orchestra's coloristic instincts and the warm recording acoustic at St. Eustache Church. Conductor Charles Dutoit has a fine instinctive feel for Debussy in general and this score in particular. The singers in the title roles–Didier Henry and Colette Alloit-Lugaz–have both come to terms with the opera's enigmatic dramaturgy. However, it's very much a symphonic rather than operatic performance, clearly a product of the recording studio rather than of the stage.

Another feather in the Dutoit/Montreal/Decca cap, not least for the sound engineers' achievement in so brilliantly capturing the mammoth sonorities of the Symphonie funebre et triomphale (whose first performance Berlioz conducted walking backwards at the head of his huge wind-and-percussion band, though—alas for the legend!—with a baton, not a sword). For concert hall, rather than open air performance he later added strings and a chorus, and it is this version that is adopted here (as it was in Colin Davis's 1969 Philips recording). Splendid as that issue was, this new one even surpasses it in clarity and impact, with its majestic brass chords and a chorus that adds incisively to the final climax.

Gathered here are two masterpieces of late 19th-century French orchestral music. Cesar Franck's Symphony in D minor (1888) is his only symphony. Drawing its lineage from later Beethoven and Schumann, it's very cohesive and its themes are quite distinct, remaining quite popular. Vincent d'Indy's Symphonie su un chant montagnard francais (1886) is a very efficient fusion of a symphony with a piano concerto. The themes are supple yet smoothly integrated into a three-movement tapestry that has also never seen its popularity fade. Many versions of these exist on disc, but Charles Dutoit seems to have a better feel than most.

Honegger was an eclectic composer whose achievement is well reflected in this stimulating compilation. Dutoit’s recording of the oratorio King David is particularly compelling: on hearing it one understands why the composer frequently returned to the formula of narrator, soloists, chorus and orchestra.

These disc were recorded in 1995 during Charles Dutoit's long spell as artistic director of the Montreal Symphony Orchestra. During that time they made many outstanding recordings with a particular reputation for French and Russian music and a glorious sound recorded in Saint-Eustache church. Dutoit is an ideal conductor for Bizet's music, sufficiently romantic to bring out its drama without letting it become self-indulgent.

In full neoclassic mode as in the opening bars of 'Les Biches,' Francis Poulenc sounds quite a bit like Igor Stravinsky. (It's the predominance of wind instruments and the careful attention to instrumental voicing.) He shifts modes easily, and the shadow of Stravinsky disappears as smoothly as it came. Poulenc has often been taken to be a composer of trifles, of light music. His elegance and wit came at a time when music had to be profound and atonal to be taken seriously. Yet in Paris between the wars, Poulenc's music fared well. Each of his works is an evocative, tuneful jewel, unabashedly tonal yet filled with inventive chromatic turns.

Rodrigo's Concierto de Aranjuez is performed and recorded more than all the other guitar concertos put together, and the outer movements are full of Spanish warmth and color, framing a central adagio that builds in intensity like a poignant prayer. This recording is justly famous for "Bonell's imaginative account of the solo part" and "an exceptionally clear, atmospheric recording".

Maestro Dutoit and his orchestra really make Berlioz' orchestral showpiece glow in all of its colorful splendour, but with enough tenderness and warm lyricism in the more reflective, dreamy parts. But 'Un bal' really sways and swaggers with appropriate grandiloquence. The 'Scene aux champs' is played wonderfully poised and concentrated, but with a lot of warmth as well, helped of course by the mellifluous, wonderfully blended tone of the orchestra.