Maurice Ravel — the exalted French composer, a founding father of Impressionism — came into the world on March 7, 1875. For his 150th birth anniversary, WRTI has asked each member of our classical team to select a favorite recording of his work. The results span a kaleidoscopic instrumental palette, from solo piano to wind quintet to full symphonic grandeur. We hope you enjoy reading and listening. Be sure to tune in on March 7 to hear Ravel’s music on our classical broadcast. And don’t miss our piece about his reciprocal relationship with jazz.
Martha Argerich, “Jeux d'eau” (1960)
If we take Ravel’s dictum that “sensitiveness and emotion constitute the real content of a work of art” as gospel, Martha Argerich should be considered one of his foremost apostles. Sandwiched in the middle of her legendary Deutsche Grammophon debut — recorded in 1960, when the Argentinian pianist was 19 — this fantastically pliant performance of Ravel’s “Water Games” is one of her greatest sermons, blending substance and splash in instinctive service to the composer’s ethos. (Zev Kane)
Gina Bachauer and Sir John Gielgud, Gaspard de la Nuit (1964)
So many stellar pianists have recorded Gaspard de la Nuit that it’s nearly impossible to choose a favorite among them based on pianism alone. When I heard the first moments of Gina Bachauer’s 1964 release, I had my answer — thanks largely to the riveting voice of Sir John Gielgud, with his urgent intonation of Aloysius Bertrand’s poetry: “Listen! Do you know what you hear?” Gielgud’s readings of the three poems that inspired Ravel appear before their pianistic counterparts, which Bachauer renders convincingly -- especially capturing the creepy and muscular aspects of Ravel’s artistry. Hearing these masterful interpretations in juxtaposition opened my ears to a whole new perspective on Ravel. (Melinda Whiting)
Beaux Arts Trio, “Piano Trio in A Minor”
I’m not ashamed to admit that I had never heard Ravel’s Piano Trio before seeing the 1992 film A Heart in Winter (Un cœur en hiver). The movie was brilliant, but it was the sensuous and diaphanous opening bars of the Trio that stayed in my head for weeks. After wearing out the film soundtrack, I put the piece away to focus on repertoire I needed to study at the time. Years later, that haunting opening of the first movement came back to me, and I embarked on a rediscovery of the work. To my ear, this Beaux Arts Trio recording from 1984 is the most nuanced, magical performance. It combines such a variety of textures and emotions with a vitality and clarity I find irresistible. (Meg Bragle)
Pierre Boulez with the Berlin Philharmonic, “Boléro” (1993)
Boléro, composed in 1928, is a work of disarming surface simplicity: a pair of 18-bar melodic phrases in C major, obsessively repeated over a rudimentary snare-drum ostinato. Its success lies in a deft calibration of tempo and crescendo, as an ever-more-familiar theme grows wild, even strange, through repetition. Pierre Boulez combines clinical precision with extravagant gusto in this 1993 recording with the Berlin Phil. Be sure to listen to the end — past an ever-startling key modulation — for a jazzy eruption of braying trombones. (Nate Chinen)
Régine Crespin, L’Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, “Shéhérazade: Three Poems for Voice and Orchestra” (1963)
Ravel envelops us in a rapturous, erotic tapestry of sound, delicately colored with shimmering beams of light and darkness, clarity and mystery in his Shéhérazade. The lush L’Orchestre de la Suisse Romande under Ernest Ansermet’s baton marries perfectly with the sensuality of Régine Crespin’s soprano timbre, lifting the performance to greater heights while remaining intimate and expansive. The texts by Léon Leclère (under the pseudonym Tristan Klingsor), inspired by The Arabian Nights, offer poetry that intoxicates — much like Ravel’s music. (Mike Bolton)
Imani Winds, Le tombeau de Couperin
Ravel may have pushed more boundaries elsewhere, but I’m a huge fan of this arrangement of his tribute to early music by Imani Winds, a preeminent contemporary wind quintet. Their reordering turns the rigaudon (a French Baroque dance) into a great closer. As an added bonus, the arranger, Mason Jones, was principal horn in The Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy. (John T.K. Scherch)
André Previn, “Daphnis et Chloé, M. 57, Pt. 1: Introduction” (1982)
Ravel was an undisputed master at conveying moods, painting scenes and telling stories through the use of instrumental and orchestral color. In his “choreographic symphony” recounting the love between the goatherd Daphnis and shepherdess Chloé, Ravel’s viscerally exciting score leaves almost nothing to the imagination. This recording with André Previn was the first complete recording of Ravel’s score I ever encountered as an impressionable young radio host. The sheer eroticism of the music, especially as conveyed through the heated and ecstatic interplay between the wordless chorus and orchestra, was enough to make this twenty-something-year-old blush considerably. (Fortunately, it was radio...) (Mark Pinto)