**French Hunting Music: Messe Solenelle de Saint Hubert; Ceremonial de la Venerie; *Les Echos de la Futaie***
Le Debuche de Paris; Les Sonneurs du Bien Allé de Compiègne with Point du Jour de Soissons.
Calliope CAL 9701/02/03. Recorded 1969–96, various venues. 3 discs.
These three discs arrived—sold only as a set, mind you—and I confess they nearly sent me running for cover. One doesn’t expect to be aurally ambushed by one’s own stereo system.
The repertoire is exactly what it claims to be: fanfares and hunting music for brass, performed in that unmistakably French style that dominated the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra in the 1950s. But here’s the thing. What we encounter on these recordings makes those old Conservatoire performances sound positively restrained. The playing is forthright to the point of aggression, the vibrato so wide you could drive a lorry through it, and the timbral palette—well, there isn’t one. It’s brass, brass, and more brass for nearly two hundred minutes.
Le Debuche de Paris handles the first two discs, recorded in 1981 and 1969–78 respectively, while Les Sonneurs du Bien Allé de Compiègne (with their friends from Point du Jour de Soissons—one does appreciate the collegial spirit) take on the third from 1996. The Messe Solenelle de Saint Hubert and Ceremonial de la Venerie occupy the first two volumes, with Les Echos de la Futaie rounding out the collection.
Now, I should be clear about what’s actually on offer here. The virtuosity is undeniable—these players have complete command of their instruments, and there’s a lively, almost defiant spirit animating every fanfare. The ensemble precision, particularly on the third disc, is admirable. These aren’t amateur efforts by any stretch.
But the experience of listening straight through? Punishing. The relentless sameness of timbre, the unvarying dynamic intensity, the sheer accumulation of brass sound without respite—it’s like being trapped in a particularly enthusiastic hunt where no one has bothered to tell you when it’s over. I found myself longing for a single oboe, a lone clarinet—anything to break the monochrome assault.
The sound quality improves markedly on the third disc, thanks to digital recording. The difference is substantial enough that if Calliope ever reconsiders their decision to sell these only as a complete set (a marketing strategy of dubious wisdom), the 1996 recording would be the one to acquire. It’s also, mercifully, the shortest at just over 52 minutes.
One can imagine a very specific audience for this material—hunting enthusiasts, scholars of French brass traditions, and specialists in ceremonial music. The sleeve notes mention “venery,” which the Oxford Dictionary helpfully defines both as hunting and as sexual indulgence. I cannot fathom anyone managing the latter with this soundtrack.
Calliope has released some genuinely superb recordings over the years—André Isoir’s Bach organ cycle, the Talich Quartet’s complete Dvořák—so it pains me to imagine newcomers to the label encountering this particular release first. It would be rather like introducing someone to French cuisine by serving them three courses of the same pâté.
For those actually seeking wide-ranging documentation of French hunting fanfares, this set delivers exactly what it promises with considerable technical skill. For everyone else? Approach with extreme caution, if at all.
