Named after the Russian 'Five' by a French critic in 1920, 'Les Six' were a heterogeneous bunch and their paths diverged further with the passing years. Yet when five of them collaborated in the ballet Les Maries de la Tour Eiffel (Durey backed out), they all wrote music which fitted Cocteau's frothy scenario. In this performance from Lille, we get a translation of the spoken introduction but not of the many lengthy passages of subsequent dialogue, although there is a synopsis. Of the nine musical numbers, Honegger and Milhaud wrote one, Poulenc and Tailleferre two, and Auric three, but the booklet (though not the jewel-case) attributes two of the latter's to Milhaud.
It is idle to claim that this music has much intrinsic interest. Poulenc rarely disappoints, but his ''Discours du general'' (No. 4) is an empty little thing lasting less than a minute and followed by twice that much speech, while in No. 5, again by him, two minutes of music leads to five of vociferation. Indeed, music plays such a small part overall that what we have is a French farce with occasional musical numbers. The balletic element is altogether absent; in any case one wonders how much dancing was ever done amongst Cocteau's hectares of silly words. The most substantial pieces are the two by Tailleferre and Honegger's Funeral March, which makes it to around the three-minute mark. I doubt if this work will be of much interest save to fluent French speakers who care for Cocteau's text, although the performance is a lively one, as is that of Le boeuf sur le toit in the composer's version with solo violin. However, in the latter, Kent Nagano and his Lyon Opera Orchestra are more elegantly sophisticated and better recorded. This Harmonia Mundi recording is merely serviceable.
Le boeuf turns up again, this time in a keyboard version, to begin the other disc. The pianists show a good rapport and an understanding of their chosen music, so that Scaramouche has energy, wit and charm, as have Poulenc's two pieces. Most of the programme is very lightweight, and Honegger's Trois contrepoints positively desiccated, but I admire Durey's coolly intelligent Neige. He dedicated it to Ravel, who had praised his music, and evidently it was partly because he thought his colleagues in Les Six were unfairly critical of Ravel's music that he refused to contribute to Les Maries de la Tour Eiffel. I wish this programme had included his Carillons (1916), which Ravel so much enjoyed.'