Toronto Symphony Orchestra & Gusavo Gimeno: Messiaen: Turangalîla-Symphonie
Harmonia Mundi

The Toronto Symphony Orchestra's new recording of Olivier Messiaen's Turangalîla-Symphonie is fascinating for a number of reasons. For starters, it's the orchestra's second treatment of the French composer's twentieth-century masterpiece, its precursor the much admired one the late Seiji Ozawa, then the TSO's Music Director, recorded with the company in 1968 and that earned it deserved acclaim and a Grammy nomination. Adding to its distinction, the soloists who performed with Ozawa were Messiaen's second wife, Yvonne Loriod, on piano and her sister Jeanne on the ondes Martenot. Interestingly, the TSO's current Music Director Gusavo Gimeno professes to have been unaware of that earlier version when he chose the work as the one the orchestra would record to celebrate its centenary. The release was culled from two live performances in May 2023 at Roy Thomson Hall, but it has the pristine clarity of a studio recording, an illusion the absence of ambient noise and applause helps foster.

The soloists on this latest iteration are as solid a match for the Loriods as could be imagined, renowned Canadian pianist Marc-André Hamelin and Nathalie Forget, who flew in from Paris to participate and is one of the most valued ondes Martenot players alive. An early electronic instrument marked by its eerie timbres and a theremin-like warble, the ondes Martenot is one of the work's defining elements, its sound so arresting it can overshadow the as-vital piano. The composer himself deemed the latter so critical to the work he said it could almost be called a piano concerto. Forget, who's performed the piece with numerous orchestras around the world but has never until now appeared on a recording of it, is note-perfect, as is Hamelin, who delivers an unerring performance.

A piece of such epic proportions requires a conductor capable of marshalling the enlarged orchestra's forces towards a common goal and maintaining the proper balance between the instruments, and Gimeno's commanding direction succeeds splendidly on both counts for the full seventy-four minutes. While the composer once called Ozawa “the greatest conductor I have known,” were Messiaen still with us he would perhaps amend that statement upon hearing the terrific treatment by Gimeno and the TSO.

Birthed between 1946 and 1948 and described by the composer as a “love song” and “hymn to joy,” Turangalîla-Symphonie originated from a commission by Russian-born conductor Serge Koussevitzky. Its unusual title originates from Sanskrit, with “turanga” referring to time that can move with the greatest of velocity yet also as slow as “sand in an hourglass” (Messiaen's words) and “lîla” “the spiritual-physical union of love,” among other things. All such elements converge in ten movements that oscillate between episodes of contemplative mystery and eruptive energy—the work's scope immense and its presentation at times explosive. In addition to the keyboards, celesta, glockenspiel, vibraphone, and other percussion instruments add considerably to the score's impact, and the fecundity of its creator's imagination is evident at every step.

The work's singular identity asserts itself quickly when mere seconds into the “Introduction” the “statue” theme appears, with a roaring trombone figure accompanied by shimmering percussion and upper-register piano and punctuated by the glissando-like swoop of the ondes Martenot. A captivating cadenza by Hamelin leads into a colossus of sound as superimposed layers of percussion, strings, and horns generate a dizzying swirl. The dynamism of the opening movement carries over into “Chant d'amour 1” though gradually softens for the voicing of a haunting, dreamlike theme by the electronic keyboard and strings. Even at this early stage, the impression created is of a work whose soundworld is like none other.

After another haunting melody introduces “Turangalîla 1,” its impact enhanced by the combination of clarinet, vibraphone, and ondes Martenot, the mood turns nightmarish, cryptic, and even, almost, violent when gamelan patterns, howling trombones, and pounding percussion collide. The orchestra's passionate voicing of the work's “love” theme bolsters the allure of “Chant d'amour 2,” its poise contrasting dramatically with the wild energy of the “Joie du sang des étoiles” that follows. Ecstatic string flourishes clash with bombastic flurries of percussion, piano, and horns before this blazing movement reaches a climactic close. The hushed tenderness of “Jardin du sommeil d'amour” paints a considerably less frenzied picture when delicate strings, piano, and woodwinds interlace as sensually as the embracing lovers the music's intended to evoke. The work's four major themes, “statue,” “love,” “flower,” and “chords,” emerge in the eighth movement, their juxtaposition held in judicious balance by the conductor and orchestra. With two movements still to come, “Développement de l'amour” feels like the work's culmination when it swells to a massive affirmation before decompressing for the coda. “Final” truly does have the last word, however, when it explodes like a glorious fireworks display for seven breathtaking minutes.

March 2024