Recording of the Week, Ravel's Daphnis et Chloé from Sinfonia of London and John Wilson

Whilst I was filling my downtime with online yoga and overdue DIY, John Wilson spent much of the 2020/21 lockdowns preparing a new edition of Ravel’s 1912 ballet Daphnis et Chloé, incorporating hundreds of changes which the composer made to the parts in rehearsal but were never transferred to the published full score.

So how dramatically do the results diverge from what we hear on previous recordings? In all honesty you’ll need the aural equivalent of a fine-tooth comb to catch the many tiny alterations, but if you’re minded to follow along with the Durand score then a rather arcane game of Spot The Difference indeed awaits…

Wilson’s forensic attention to detail and the superb clarity of the recorded sound ensure that every subtle amendment to phrasing, articulation, dynamics, tempo and technical instructions registers if you’re listening out for it: indications for the violins to use open strings for certain notes, additions of slurs, specifications as to precisely what dynamic should be reached at the top of the score’s many ‘hairpin’ marks…It’s all present and correct, and whilst the individual changes might sound like small fry in isolation, the end result sounds fresh, nuanced and ever-so-slightly uncanny – almost as if you’re listening to a vintage recording that’s been remastered in hi-res so that fine-grained details that were previously smudged have been sharpened right up.

But there’s no sense that either Wilson or the individual players have hyper-focused on details at the expense of considering the bigger picture, and the pacing of each individual Part (as well as the sweep of the ballet as a whole) is beautifully judged. Perhaps the most notable instance is the glorious ‘Lever du jour’, where Wilson keeps a lid on the sound until the sun fully emerges so that the climax is all the more satisfying when it finally arrives: as on his recording of Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 2, his willingness to play the long game and unleash the Sinfonia of London’s trademark swooning string sound only at the very last minute really pays off.

What’s also striking is that Wilson seems ever-mindful that the score was originally conceived as a ballet, despite being most commonly presented as a concert-work these days. This is a conductor with long experience of working with choreographers, and it shows: he may not have gone to the lengths of booking a dancer for the recording-sessions this time (as on his recent Oklahoma!), but all of his tempi would make perfect sense in the theatre as well as the studio.

As usual with this hand-picked orchestra, there’s some superlative solo work: Wilson truly does have ‘rows and rows of the finest virtuosos’ at his command, and first among equals here is flautist Adam Walker (who also stepped into the spotlight on their recent recordings of Dutilleux and Kenneth Fuchs). His piquant, gorgeously-phrased opening solo sets the tone for the entire recording, and such is the variety of colour which he summons that you’d swear he was playing different instruments for the War-Dance and the Pan/Syrinx episode in the Pantomime.

The woodwind section as a whole is on spectacular form throughout, rivalling the period instruments of Les Siècles for rude rustic raspiness in Dorcan’s clod-hopping dance in Part One and that War-Dance in Part Three. And everyone has a blast as the pirates take centre-stage in Part Two: Wilson taps right into that cinematic sound that made his recordings of Korngold so special here, conjuring mental images of Errol Flynn at his most swashbuckling.

A word, too, for the superb (wordless!) contribution of the Sinfonia of London Chorus in their recording-debut. The voices here have been selected with the same care and attention which Wilson applies to orchestral fixing, and whilst the line-up includes numerous singers with distinguished solo careers no individual voice ever obtrudes from the texture: in the opening pages they sound for all the world like another orchestral colour, and their collective firepower in the closing Bacchanale is hair-raising.

All in all, then, yet another feather in Wilson and Sinfonia of London’s now lavishly-accessorised cap, and here’s hoping that they continue with the Ballets Russes theme. A Wilson Rite of Spring would be quite something…