The familiar and the unfamiliar. In the latter category are works from the beginning and end of Debussy's output: the early ''Suite Symphonique'' Printemps in an orchestration by Henri Busser (Debussy's own had been destroyed in a fire at the book-binders), and the ''Anglo-Egyptian Ballet'' (Debussy's description) Khamma completed in 1913 to a commission from Maud Allen, an English dancer (an Isadora Duncan figure), and orchestrated by Charles Koechlin. Both orchestrations were made under Debussy's supervision, though the fatigued composer at one point remarked to a startled Koechlin ''write Khamma yourself and I will sign it''.
Perhaps 'unfamiliar' for Printemps is inaccurate, as this disc now brings the number of currently available recordings to six. None of the modern versions—from Saraste, Boulez and Tortelier—is as distinguished as the spectacularly recorded 1962 Munch or recently restored 1957 Ansermet (tonally thin, but who cares, with phrasing as expressive as this!). Saraste's tres modere for the first movement is faster than usual and appealingly fresh. His solo violin at the centre of the movement (from 4'20'') is a little weak and the oboe that partly accompanies it is virtually inaudible—maybe a casualty of a distant (though dry) recording balance that rarely resolves orchestral intricacy with the skill of most of the older recordings. Saraste's second movement expresses, more than Boulez, ''the joy of being born into some new life'', but eyebrows will certainly rise at his halving of the tempo (from 4'34'') and gradual acceleration up to the concluding frolics (I thought it rather effective)—it's worth noting though that a few others make adjustments to the score: Ansermet with another viola (I believe) for the above-mentioned solo and Munch who brazenly sustains the last chord.
Currently available recordings of the Prelude amount to about 60! Saraste joins an increasing number of them that dream for a mere nine minutes (others include Toscanini, Ansermet, Munch and more recently, Tortelier and Boulez), and I rather like his volatile, animated way with the piece, but he doesn't always take all of the orchestra with him (flute and strings briefly part company after 2'01''). The dynamics at the climax are very precisely graded (quite a rarity), though the strings in the penultimate bar can hardly be said to fade from a pianissimo. This Jeux is also one of the most animated and mobile on disc, with the wealth of information and suggestion (and grace of execution) that you find in accounts from Rattle and Haitink (both over two minutes longer—the latter part of a mid-price two-disc Duo set), sacrificed in favour of a more physical spontaneity.
The only other available recording of Khamma is Tortelier's (coupled with a barely adequately played Jeux, and some Ravel); the superb Martinon (EMI, 10/89) was deleted a couple of years ago. Saraste does not enjoy sound of the spectacular colour, range and presence that Chandos supplied for Tortelier, but is decently recorded and responds a little more to the dramatic needs of the piece. The more I hear Khamma, the more I am convinced that it is unfairly neglected. Debussy himself declared that the work's exoticism occasioned ''the most recent discoveries of harmonic chemistry''. For a full appreciation of the ballet, a synopsis is essential; fortunately Virgin Classics include one; Chandos didn't.'