More than any other musician of our time Jordi Savall has championed Marin Marais in the concert hall and recording studio–and he even was largely responsible for the highly acclaimed French movie Tous Les matins du monde, a veritable cinematic biography devoted to the composer. Nearly 30 years ago, for Astrée, Savall made his first recording of the Suite in B minor from Marais’ second book of Pieces de Viole (now reissued mid-price as Naive Astrée 9978), part of an eventual series of five LPs (all later reincarnated as somewhat short CDs) that featured selections from all of Marais’ influential five books. Here Savall offers his latest insights in a performance that often differs from his previous effort–most noticeably his inclusion of a second Allemande (II 86) that was conspicuously absent from his earlier recording. Savall’s tempos as well are marginally slower, though there’s a greater tendency to draw out more of the music’s lyricism, particularly in the more animated Petitte Fantaisie, Gigues, Minuets, and Gavotte movements. In this regard (and aided in part by his decision to heighten the continuo with additional guitar and theorbe) Savall stylishly outclasses my previous and now comparatively austere-sounding reference performance by Laurence Dreyfus and Ketil Haugsand (Simax).
No longer bound by the time limits of the LP, Savall offers his first recording of the companion Suite in E minor that completes Book Two. Colleague David Vernier lavished well-deserved praise for Juan Manuel Quintana’s stirring (though sadly edited) performance on Harmonia Mundi (type Q848 in Search Reviews), though Savall often imaginatively equals or betters Quintana’s accomplishment. For instance, in the Rondeau Champêtre Savall probes the thematic intricacies of the piece much more thoroughly than Quintana, whose swifter tempos dazzle yet also obscure such detail. I also prefer the way Savall renders more introspective wit and expressive twist in the culminating final movement Tombeau pour Mr de Ste Colombe. His articulation, particularly in the higher registers, is remarkably more suggestive of that elusive comparison viol players often draw between their chosen instrument and its ability to imitate the human voice.
Alia Vox’s full-bodied, richly detailed sound is magnificent. The extravagant digi-pak presentation includes Savall’s engaging essay “The Parnassus of the Viol” as well as informative if not fascinating notes by Vincent Borel titled “Marin Marais (1656-1728)” that dwell more on the widespread contemporary contempt of Lully than on Marais’ life. This is the “second book” we’ve all been waiting for–now let’s have the remaining four, please!
