Premières symphonies
Georges Bizet (1838-1875)
Symphony in C major, GB 115 (1855)
Charles Gounod (1818-1893)
Symphony No. 1 in D major, CG 527 (1856)
Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921)
Symphony in A major, R.159 (1850)
Orchestre Philharmonique de Monte-Carlo/Kazuki Yamada
rec. 2023/24, Yakov Kreizberg Hall, Auditorium Rainier III, Monaco
Alpha Classics 1149 [2 CDs: 89]
My desire to review this disc was prompted by curiosity, in that I was familiar only with the precocious, seventeen-year-old Bizet’s first symphony; my interest was further piqued by the discovery that Saint-Saëns was a mere fifteen when he wrote his own first attempt at that genre. Gounod, by comparison, clearly had other fish to fry, writing his first symphony aged thirty-seven, almost in a spirt of self-medication to compensate for the disappointment of having his opera La nonne sanglante summarily removed from the stage by the new director of the Paris Opéra. A further motivation resided in the fact that I have of late been regularly attending live concerts conducted by Kazuki Yamada and been very impressed with his handling of the CBSO in a varied repertoire. He is by all accounts a devotee of French music, so here was a programme designed to illustrate his gifts.
My acquaintance with Bizet’s symphony was of course via Beecham’s famous recording. To impress, it needs more charm than Jean-Luc Tingaud and the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra were able to provide in this Naxos issue, whereas charm was Sir Thomas’ strong suit, so I was interested to see if Yamada could emulate the knight. Obviously, he has the advantage of modern digital sound – although the old 1959 stereo recording always fell gratefully on the ear – and he takes the repeats in the expositions of the first and last movements as well as including the repeat in the second half of the Scherzo which Beecham omitted – perhaps because, like me, he felt that it could outstay its welcome. The benefits of sound and completeness apart, there are otherwise no great or discernible differences in manner or execution between the two conductors and orchestras separated by an extraordinary 65 years. The scurrying Allegro vivo opening movement is so redolent of Mozart in its vivacity and delightful key changes; the ternary-form Adagio is lovingly played, the piquant pizzicato underpinning the surging, swooning tune on the violins nicely audible and balanced – and I note that the Monte Carlo solo oboist Matthieu Bloch produces that pleasing hint of Gallic nasality which marked his Parisian counterpart so many years earlier. The Scherzo does indeed court banality but Yamada risks giving us the full six minutes rather than aping Beecham’s shaving off two, and finesses it by giving the two outer sections a rather more rustic, galumphing rhythm than that in Beecham’s hastier account – and I think it works, lending it a Haydnesque humour, whereas Beecham sounds as if he just wants to get it over with. Likewise the Trio with its imitation by the lower strings of the musette (bagpipes), is more deliberate and again to my ears more effective. The finale is great fun, its tarantella very Italianate.
I enjoyed this rendering very much more than that on Naxos referenced above, as Yamada makes it much more cohesive and persuasive; he communicates the same joy and vitality through the recording process as I have seen manifested in his live performances.
Gounod’s symphony is a cheerful affair, somewhat conventional, with plentiful echoes of, and even what sounds like references to, famous symphonic precedents. Unlike his partners here, Gounod might have been middle-aged when he wrote it, but it exudes a similar youthful bravado, beginning with a driven Allegro opening. Many commentators have drawn comparisons between the Allegro moderato second movement march and the music of Beethoven, Mendelssohn and Berlioz; its grave insistence is rather compelling. The Scherzo is a lilting peasant waltz, pleasing without being especially memorable and once again the woodwind deserve praise for their elegance. The finale begin with a very atmospheric and Mozartian Adagio which begins amiably, turns serious, then morphs into a lively Allegro vivace.
The shade of Beethoven hovers benignly but dominantly over Saint-Saëns’ symphony. It is much more purely “classical”, driven and “masculine” in affect; the prominent timpani and the woodwind interjections bear witness to his influence over the young aspirant composer. Despite his enduring reputation for conservatism, I personally find it more involving and interesting than Gounod’s elegant but essentially anodyne diversion. The little Scherzo flits by like a puff of wind – an apt enough simile as its burden is borne by flutes – and the presto finale scampers along engagingly in moto perpetuo, Mendelssohnian stye.
None of the triple-bill of music here is “major” but it entertains and engages admirably.
Ralph Moore
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