Charles Koechlin likened the 16 piano pieces encompassing his cycle Les Heures Persanes to an imaginary voyage where the listener must be prepared to travel slowly, linger along the way, and take plenty of time out for siestas. The mood of the music is primarily slow, laid-back, and somber. The opening Sieste features murky chords that mainly dwell in the piano’s lower registers, relieved by an occasional bell chord in the treble. La Caravane offers more of the same over a constant pedal point. Imagine Ravel’s Bolero deconstructed, disembodied, and melted down to gelatin, and you’ll get the picture.
Koechlin also is fond of slow processional pieces such Nos. 10 and 13 that feature gentle repeated notes followed by a cushiony chord (chord note-note-note, chord-note-note-note, and variations thereof). À travers les rues recalls Busoni’s bi-tonal arpeggios, Debussy Preludes with extra notes, and Szymanowski’s lush pianistic pallette minus the memorable tunes. Sometimes Koechlin’s harmonies overextend themselves to the point where they cancel each other out (as in Aubade), while a piece like Chant du Soir says what it needs to say, simply and lyrically.
Pianist Kathryn Stott works her considerable portfolio of colors and nuances overtime and rarely gets bogged down in the music’s turgid tundra. At times, though, I could imagine that a pianist favoring an angular, leaner, and more rhythmically assertive approach might give the music more variety and fiber. No. 11 (À l’ombre) is a good example of where the music could benefit from a firmer underlying pulse and less rounded phrasing, even if that isn’t necessarily what the composer had in mind! The engineering is good, but it lacks the impact, immediacy, and dynamic heft that distinguish this label’s finest piano recordings. In all, my reservations shouldn’t prevent seekers of rare and strange keyboard exotica from acquiring this release.
