Jane Bathori, whose career and support for composers is celebrated by Dawn Upshaw and Jerome Ducros in their recital, was one of the most influential Parisian musicians of the 20th century. She gave first performances of songs by more than 250 composers, and as well as enjoying an exceptionally long association with the concert platform (she made her debut in 1898 and gave her last public concert in 1947), she was also an impresario, teacher and broadcaster.
Like Dawn Upahaw herself, Bathori’s voice was a soprano with a decidedly mezzo-ish tinge to it. Although she knew Debussy well and gave the first performances of several songs by him, he did not show any enthusiasm for her desire to sing Melisande. Toscanini engaged Bathori for La Scala where she sang with Caruso, and while her operatic repertory included Puccini and Massenet, it was as a pioneer of the avant-garde that she became an essential part of Parisian musical life.
Dawn Upshaw begins with Milhaud’s ‘Chant de nourrice’ from the song-cycle Poemes juifs. (Bathori herself recorded this; all her records are reissued on Marston, 51009-2) Milhaud was, of all the composers she knew, the one for whom Bathori gave the most premieres – 19 works, the last a song-cycle, Le voyage d’ete, in Buenos Aires in 1941. Although her diction is clear, Upshaw, like so many other English-speaking singers, has difficulty with the French vowel sounds, especially the ‘e’ and ‘u’. This is more noticeable in the kind of post-impressionist music here than it would be in more obviously romantic, passionate arias.
It is, of course, fascinating to hear such rarely performed works as Honegger’s ‘Alcools’ (to poems by Apollinaire), or the Roussel and Koechlin songs, both substantial pieces, but it comes as a relief to get to more robust fare with Satie’s Trois melodies and Ravel’s Histoires naturelles. Bathori gave the first performances of many of Ravel’s songs, as well as Satie’s Socrate. The mixture of sophistication and naivety in both these groups suits Upshaw much better than the more fragile melancholy of the Milhaud and Roussel songs.
Bathori published a book about Debussy’s songs (now reissued by Pendragon Press, NY), in which she recalled with great pride the first performance of Le promenoir des deux amants in 1911. Bathori suggests that these songs need to be sung with a sort of ‘murmured’ tone ‘as if one were afraid’ to pronounce the words. Upshaw does convey this, but these very introspective songs contain a good deal of passion. ‘Force and simplicity’ are necessary in Debussy’s songs, wrote Bathori, and Upshaw is perhaps too reticent here. The whole recital is beautifully planned, though, and ends with a song by Dutilleux dedicated to the memory of Poulenc, another Bathori protege. This suits Dawn Upshaw better – she is essentially a modern singer. I would urge Erato to follow this up by recording her in a selection of songs that have been written by composers of our own time – such as the adventurous programme she sang not long ago at the Wigmore Hall, the first half of which was devoted entirely to new songs by young American composers.'