This is an attractive and interesting programme consisting of three pieces
quite widely spaced throughout Camille Saint-Saëns's long career. The
Third Symphony and the short tone-poem
Le rouet d’Omphale
(‘Omphale’s Spinning-Wheel’) are well represented in the catalogue, while,
as far as I’m aware, there is only one other version available of the early
A major Symphony, that by Jean Martinon and the ORTF Orchestra on Brilliant
Classics.
This A major Symphony is not a stunning youthful masterpiece, alla
Puccini, Mendelssohn or Shostakovich; it’s an obvious apprentice work,
jumping dutifully through all the Classical hoops and delivering nothing to
frighten the horses. Saint-Saëns was fifteen when he composed this, and
there is certainly enough here to indicate both his remarkable talent and
his technical accomplishment. There is a particularly attractive
Larghetto with a Mendelssohnian feel to it, while its smooth melody
hints at the slow movement of Beethoven’s
Emperor Concerto. Talking
of hints, Saint-Saëns’ first movement contains an amusing nod to Mozart in
his use of the famous four-note theme from the finale of the
Jupiter Symphony. So, a modest little work, but well worth hearing,
and given a neat, characterful performance.
Le rouet d’Omphale is the best-known of a series of symphonic
poems Saint-Saëns composed using ancient Greek legends as his inspiration.
This one tells of a curious episode in the life of Hercules, when he was
forced to dress as a woman and become a servant to Omphale, the Lydian
queen. One of his duties was to help with her spinning, so the main sections
of the work have an appropriate delicacy. These are interrupted by darker
music describing Hercules’ resentment. Saint-Saëns employs unusual scoring
for these moments – violin melodies doubled by trombones a couple of octaves
below. The piece fades away gently, with a wonderful touch – a single, high
violin harmonic bringing it to a close.
The main item on the agenda is the famous
Organ Symphony, which
is a bit of a ‘Marmite’ work is it not? I speak to many people who profess
to hate the piece; but their dislike is invariably focused on the admittedly
noisy finale. It’s sometimes forgotten that there are three previous
movements, which contain much of the best music in the work. These provide a
convincing narrative that makes sense of the barn-storming conclusion.
Significant is the fact that France was still recovering from the disastrous
Franco-Prussian wars, and this piece was something of a ‘gift to the nation’
- rather as Mahler’s Eighth was to be a couple of decades later. It was
intended to lift national spirits — even though it was first performed in
London. Saint-Saëns himself regarded it as his greatest achievement, and it
does seem to draw all the threads of this extraordinary musician’s career
together. That's with the possible exception of his madcap humour,
exemplified by the
Carnival des animaux, written amazingly at the
same time as the Organ Symphony possibly as a means of relaxation.
There are many fine and even great version of this work on disc – Ormandy,
Munch, Barenboim and Martinon all come to mind. I’ve long been an admirer of
Eschenbach’s reading, with Olivier Latry at the organ. That recording comes
from Ondine, and has great couplings in the Poulenc Organ Concerto and the
Barber
Toccata Festiva. That said, I confess to having been
immensely impressed by Soustrot’s reading on this new Naxos issue. He allows
the work to unfold naturally but maintains strong momentum in the first and
third movements. The glorious
poco adagio, with its broad and noble
melody, is played beautifully by the Malmö orchestra. Here again Soustrot
finds a tempo which perfectly balances the needs for both expressive
intensity and onward movement.
The finale may disappoint some listeners in that the organ does not simply
dwarf the orchestra when it first appears in this movement, neither does it
threaten to make your speakers disintegrate. There is a magnificent reedy
brightness to the Malmö organ and the balance between it and the orchestra
is excellent. There is an absence of excessive resonance, the acoustic being
very much that of a concert hall rather than a boomy cathedral ambience, and
this makes for clarity all the way through. There is so much detail to be
heard, and after all, the organ only emerges to play a major role in the
finale, being previously very much in the background.
Another great quality of Soustrot’s reading is the way he deals with the
links between the various sections and movements. The short slow
introduction leads into the Allegro, and here I loved hearing the two quiet
timp strokes that provide that link, along with plucked strings. The
suspenseful transitions from the first movement to the
poco adagio,
and especially from the lively scherzo to the finale, are characterised
superbly. Often at these points, you can feel that the composer has simply
run out of ideas, and the music hangs fire disastrously. Not here; Soustrot
creates a sense of expectancy that keeps you on the edge of your seat.
My only disappointment – a slight one – came near the end, where for once
the balance between organ and orchestra was less than ideal. The huge
descending pedal notes in the organ taking us to the final cadence were not
as clearly audible as they might have been.
That however is a rare shortcoming. This is a fine disc, with excellent
orchestral playing throughout, guided by sure-footed stylistic and
structural direction from Soustrot.
Gwyn Parry-Jones
