Francis Poulenc (1899-1963)
La voix humaine, text by Jean Cocteau (1958)
Sinfonietta (1947-1948)
Véronique Gens (soprano)
Orchestre National de Lille/Alexandre Bloch
rec. 2021, L’Auditorium du Nouveau Siècle, Lille, France
French text of La Voix humaine; notes in French, English and German
Alpha Classics 899 [71]
The disc calls La voix humaine a “pièce en un acte de Jean Cocteau” but others refer to it as a “tragédie lyrique sur un texte de Jean Cocteau”. The booklet at one point combines them into “tragédie lyrique en un acte”. Véronique Gens is especially associated with the characters of leading women in the great lyric tragedies of the French opera repertoire, so a designation that makes that link seems proper. She does that herself in a fascinating interview on the Presto website; I will quote extensively from this interview, with profound thanks. She says: “I sing a lot of big characters like Alceste and Circe, and I’m used to carrying them around inside of me […] But Elle really got under my skin: I don’t think I’ve ever sung anything so difficult or so powerful […]”.
La voix humaine is a monodrama. We hear only the voice of Elle (Her), on the telephone to her lover. Poulenc called it “a break-up scene” since it is to be their last conversation. She recalls the stages of their relationship, begs him not to leave her. As Véronique Gens says, “Elle’s so honest and so distraught, and by the end she feels like she’s been knocked down forever – but I hope and believe that she can pick up her life again. In all the versions I’ve seen on stage, she kills herself. For me, this doesn’t happen […]”.
Gens had long wished to sing and record the piece, and was asked to perform it many times. She waited till she was ready for such a demanding piece, a work she must carry for forty minutes of, at times, very intense solo singing. Poulenc’s favourite soprano Denise Duval performed it first. She almost co-composed the piece: she was closely consulted as it progressed. Duval’s recording can be heard on Warner Classics 9029 573810. Poulenc knew he could leave to her judgement some performance decisions, such as the length of the numerous pauses, when the orchestra is also silent. Of the score’s 780 bars, 186 are for solo voice with no accompaniment, often with very short phrases or single words punctuated by pauses.
In the words of Véronique Gens, “you have the string of ‘Allo? Allo!’s to remember, and making sure that you’re in the right key for each one is tricky because you don’t get much help from the orchestra with that!”. She calls it one big recitative, but notes: “There are some little moments where you do have to really sing, like that high C, but everything else is in the middle of your voice, which is so comfortable for me: it’s like talking, just heightened, and this is why it’s so important for the text to be absolutely clear. […] That’s why I tried to approach it like an actress rather than a singer […]”.
It is clear that Madame Gens has really thought through the work and what it requires. Her decision to wait to be certain before she was ready to tackle this piece would seem to have paid off handsomely. This is an outstanding interpretation, the right artist recording the right work at the right time. That top C is nailed alright, and at the few other moments of “real singing” her familiar sound and line are as eloquent as usual. But the rest, the ‘heightened talking’, is equally persuasive, realistic and moving. Of course, that realism is also distressing, as we eavesdrop on deep personal anguish. At one point, Elle confesses to a suicide attempt. Some listeners will surely find the work rather harrowing, not one for everyday listening. But if one of the duties of art is to portray life in all its grimness as well as all its glory, then La voix humaine should be heard.
There is a flaw: the French text (generously tracked) is in the booklet but there is no English (or other) translation. The other excellent version I know, by Felicity Lott (recorded in 2001 for harmonia mundi HMC 901759, later reissued on HM Gold), contains English and German translations, and has the same generous tracking. While I would not claim that Lott is better, some might prefer her slightly lower emotional temperature. The coupling there, less generous than this disc but more appropriate, is Poulenc’s La dame de Monte Carlo from 1961, also a monologue for soprano and orchestra to a text by Jean Cocteau. It is only available as a download or on used discs from third-party suppliers.
Alexandre Bloch conducts with the taste and timing needed to support the singer, and the Orchestre National de Lille acquit themselves very well. They show more of their qualities in the substantial coupling, the four-movement Sinfonietta. This was a BBC commission to mark the first anniversary of its classical music channel, then called the Third Programme. It had been intended as a 15-minute chamber orchestra work on the model of Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony. The deadline passed, and Poulenc confessed to the broadcaster: “Catastrophe, the Sinfonietta has become a symphony, the first three movements are already 19 minutes long”. Still, he kept the title. This work runs for almost half-an-hour (28:26 here), and has a symphonic template. There is a sonata-form first movement Allegro, a scherzo and trio, a lyrical ternary form Andante, and a lively Rondo finale marked Très vite et très gai. There are French touches, elements of Franck-style cyclical form, and a harp. Poulenc takes ideas from a discarded string quartet, and quotes from several of his other works.
The conductor and the orchestra do admirably well. The first movement might be marked Allegro con fuoco, but it includes a substantial lyrical episode that Lille strings play very warmly. The Molto vivace scherzo has a foot-tapping march-like gait here. The Andante cantabile shows off the calibre of the orchestra’s wind players. The Prestissimo finale sets the seal on an engaging account of a work that deserves more hearings than it seems to get. Bloch’s tempi are very close to those of Bramwell Tovey on the recent Chandos SACD (review), but then Poulenc made abundant metronome marks and was intolerant of unmarked slowing down; sans ralentir is a frequent marking. Either version would serve well anyone who is looking to acquire a recording of this attractive work. The Chandos disc has other fairly rare orchestral Poulenc, while this issue has an incomparable version of La voix humaine.
Roy Westbrook
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