(++++) AN ABUNDANCE OF APPLES

Saint-Saëns: Violin Sonatas Nos. 1 and 2; Berceuse, Op. 38; Triptyque, Op. 136; Cello Sonatas Nos. 1 and 2; Sonatas for Bassoon and Piano, Oboe and Piano, and Clarinet and Piano; Romances for Horn and Piano, and Flute and Piano; Caprice sur Des Airs Danois et Russes for Flute, Oboe, Clarinet, and Piano. Mauro Tortorelli, violin, with Angela Melusa, piano; Andrea Favalessa, cello, with Maria Semeraro, piano; Soloists of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia Rome (Francesco Bossone, bassoon; Francesco Di Rosa, oboe; Stefano Novelli, clarinet; Alessio Allegrini, horn; Andrea Oliva, flute) with Akanè Makita, piano. Brilliant Classics. $16.99 (3 CDs).

     Although never considered among the truly great composers, Camille Saint-Saëns had an unfailing ability to create works whose melodious mellifluousness is, almost without exception, endlessly captivating and engaging for listeners. Saint-Saëns also could express a charming and deliciously poetic level of self-awareness, evidenced in his stating accurately, if perhaps a touch immodestly, “I produce music as an apple tree produces apples.”

     Indeed, if one believes that music is, at least for some of its creators, a natural outgrowth of one’s nature, Saint-Saëns’ self-evaluation could scarcely be more uncannily apt. Everywhere in his music there is understated  elegance, with clearly articulated lines and a well-ordered, everything-in-its-place musical style. This is true not only in his comparatively few well-known works – Samson et Dalila, the first concerto for cello and second for piano, the “Organ” symphony, Carnival of the Animals – but also in nearly his entire oeuvre, a significant but under-appreciated portion of which is now available on a very well-played (and very well-priced) three-CD set from Brilliant Classics.

     The recording is labeled as containing Saint-Saëns’ complete sonatas, and that is true up to a point: it also includes one chamber work that is not quite a sonata (Triptyque) and others that call for a single instrument plus piano, as the sonatas do, but are not structured as sonatas (although it unfortunately omits the two late and very interesting Élégies for violin and piano). Featuring an array of very fine instrumentalists in recordings dating to 2013 (violin material), 2020 (cello sonatas), and 2014 (everything else), this release offers a most-welcome chance to regale one’s ears with the unceasing flow of beauty that Saint-Saëns produced in so many forms, for so many instruments.

     The composer’s emotive lyricism comes through to especially fine effect in minor-key works such as the first (D minor) violin sonata, in which the violin’s dominance is a touch surprising in light of Saint-Saëns’ own expertise at the keyboard (piano and, even more, organ). Mauro Tortorelli proves to be an especially fine exponent of the music, giving it sensitivity and sweep without ever actually overshadowing Angela Meluso’s piano to an untoward extent. The second sonata, in E-flat, is gracious and elegant, if somewhat less lyrical. Triptyque, a late work (1912) in three expressive movements, showcases some of the fascination with the East that Saint-Saëns (and a number of other composers) felt at the time. And the Berceuse is as lovely, gently flowing a lullaby as anyone could wish to hear.

     The first cello sonata, in C minor, is by far the better-known of the pair. Dating to 1872 and featuring an essentially dark mood leavened by a peaceful and serene middle movement, the sonata gets a strongly expressive performance from Andrea Favalessa and Maria Semeraro – who do equally well with the second sonata, a much later work (1905) that, like the violin sonatas but unlike the first sonata for cello, is in four movements. Surprisingly, this second cello sonata turns out here to be a more substantial and substantive work than its better-known predecessor: it is not only considerably longer (35 minutes vs. 21) but also wider-ranging in exploring a broad variety of moods – nothing as intense as in the first sonata, but a great deal that is majestic, heroic, romantic and blithe. Its second and longest movement, Scherzo con Variazioni, is structurally fascinating and very cleverly developed, including exceptional differentiation of the eight variations. The sonata leaves an overall impression of seriousness that is moderated only in the light and playful finale, which provides a well-considered contrast to all that has come before.

     The sonatas for oboe, clarinet and bassoon are all late works – Opp. 166, 167 and 168, respectively – and are all characteristically melodious and defiantly of the Romantic era in sound and sensibility. The bassoon sonata features remarkably sensitive bassoon writing that is genuinely emotionally expressive. The light touch in the second movement is welcome; and in the finale, the bassoon’s lowest range is very well-managed just before the bright and genuinely happy coda. In the oboe sonata, the piano offers underlying delicacy that shows the many ways in which Saint-Saëns was able to make every instrument sing. The oboe writing is idiomatic, if not as warm as the writing for some other winds. The central movement has a pleasantly pastoral feeling, after which the sonata’s finale is very short and perky. The clarinet is warmly expressive from the gentle rocking start of its sonata, in which lyricism even creeps into the speedy 90-second Allegro animato that follows (this sonata is in four movements; those for bassoon and oboe are in three). The third clarinet-sonata movement delves into the instrument’s chalumeau register, while the fourth contrasts strongly with runs up and down much of the clarinet’s entire range – until the slower concluding section, only 90 seconds long, basks in tranquility.

     As for the supplementary single-movement works included on this release’s third disc, the horn is very expressive after the piano's gentle introductory material in the Romance for Horn and Piano. The piano sets multiple moods that the horn then reflects, expands or modifies. The delicate piano arpeggios over a legato horn line are especially effective and pleasant. In the Romance for Flute and Piano, the flute is warm, delicate and lyrical. This work is pretty rather than profound – actually a common and often valid description of much of Saint-Saëns’ music, and one that is especially apt here. Finally, the Caprice is an occasional work, its mixture of Danish and Russian elements attributable to a concert tour in Russia – whose empress was born as Princess Dagmar of Denmark. The piece has a broad scale in its unison beginning; thereafter, the piano is the unifying factor in a work that veers from the rather overly sweet to the bright and ebullient, percolating along brightly toward an upbeat ending. Saint-Saëns himself performed on piano during this tour, so the keyboard emphasis is not a surprise – but here as in all the music in this thoroughly enjoyable release, the composer proves himself adept at creating works that are exceptionally pleasurable to hear and inevitably well-crafted, even though (or perhaps because) they storm no heights and only rarely delve into depths of emotion to any significant extent.