Ansermet's (Decca), this La mer is distinguished by fast pacing, though once Tortelier has set his chosen tempo, some may find it a little inflexibly maintained. La mer has never been short of conductors who will slow to draw your attention to the wonders of this or that passage, but, particularly in the last movement, Tortelier's is often a disconcertingly no-nonsense performance: the first appearance of this movement's main theme (fig. 46 1'18''), for example, brings no perceptible yielding of tempo as Debussy asks. Lack of body in the orchestra's string section also brings cause for concern: not in the passage for divided cellos in the first movement, which is as well articulated and buoyantly phrased as I've heard, but in the opening measures of the last movement where there's plenty of attack but no real depth of tone from the lower strings. There is plenty of horizontal depth (and a fine clarity) for the surface, though, in this typically spacious Ulster Hall production, and an enormous dynamic range, in fact the opening is so quiet, so calm, that I wondered if the effect was artificially achieved. Tortelier does not reinstate the finale's deleted brass fanfares at four bars after 59 (6'00'') as does Ansermet, and more recently Solti (also Decca), but has his cornets play the triplet figure in the last two pages that appears in the Eulenberg (though not Durand) score.
The Ulster horns are magnificent in the second movement of Printemps as they transform the work's inert opening theme—truly a ''blossoming out'' (and a notable failure of Boulez's recent DG recording). But, in the first movement, again the strings momentarily disappoint: the top line violins might have placed their second note (A sharp) in the fifth bar (the first appearance of a cyclic motive) more firmly, and the violas are often weak, masked by woodwind from one bar after fig. 2 (1'01''), with the important solo (from 5'02'') lacking both accuracy and projection.
Tortelier's orchestration of the Ravel Trio (apparently four years in the making) arose from his ''conviction that the best medium for its full expression would be the modern symphony orchestra''. It is indeed a bold venture, bearing in mind Ravel's own skill in the field, and possibly a presumptuous one, as the Trio is surely one of Ravel's most private, personal works; though, as DE Tortelier has pointed out, its symphonic potentialis often the subject of comment. Be that as it may, the opening movement is transferred well to the orchestra—a recognizably Ravelian one—and the idea of allotting the repeated seven-note figure at its conclusion to double-basses and bass drum is but one example of imaginative colouring that gives ''fuller expression'' to the music's disturbing assocations (the Trio was written in the summer of 1914). Perhaps the use of the xylophone for the start of the ''Pantoum'' (Scherzo) was not such a good idea—Ravel's mastery of the percussion section is rarely matched—one often wishes that Tortelier had used percussion more sparingly; the gains here are in the warmth of the Valses nobles manner, the losses are the weaker accenting and articulation of its rhythmic games.
With the ''Passacaille'' doubts deepen: the theme is initially inelegantly unfolded by double-basses, and as levels rise, an obvious question begs ever more for an answer: would Ravel have wanted this movement's initimate, almost confessional mix of serenity and sorrow, not to mention the finale's affirmations, writ as large as they are here? It is a question I can't answer. Neither can anyone else for that matter. Added to which it is difficult to think of anything comparable to these last two movements in Ravel's output, and perhaps because of this, Tortelier here seems out on his own (out of his depth?) in evoking Ravel's sound world (moments in the finale will remind British ears of Bax). The work ends with percussion capped victory fanfares ringing out from all sides …… well, if you're going to do it all, at this point, there's no point in holding back.
Harsh words, perhaps, so I should add that I had serious reservations on first encountering say, Schoenberg's orchestration of the Brahms G minor Piano Quartet and Gordon Jacob's of the Elgar Organ Sonata, which I now enjoy. With the passage of time they have taken on a independent existence.'