It is generally accepted that French composers of the 19th and early 20th centuries were not by nature writers of symphonies and concertos. Perhaps the symphonies by Gounod and Saint-Saëns and the delightful early one by Bizet may be classed as exceptions. But where in the repertoire now are the piano concertos of Castillon, Dubois, Godard, Diémer and Gedalge? Those of Lalo and Massenet occasionally surface, Litolff’s Fourth Concerto Symphonique had a brief period of fame some years ago, and the C minor Concerto of Pierné is certainly not negligible. But it’s a fairly meagre haul, and not notably expanded by any concertos in the 20th century until Ravel’s two of around 1930.
Saint-Saëns’s five piano concertos need, then, to be seen in the context of this dearth, and seen as something rather extraordinary. Happily, this composer is no longer viewed as some desiccated promoter of threadbare traditions, but even so his contribution to the genre is little short of revolutionary. One point, barely mentioned in the context of these works, is that of course they reflected the composer’s own pianism. Recordings of his playing show that he was a master of what was dubbed ‘le jeu perlé’, a stylenone, that came later to be rudely rejected by players of the German and, especially, Russian schools, where weight and brilliance were to the fore, with fingers pressing down to the key bed. This light-fingered keyboard style had the virtue, for the composer of concertos, of lending itself to a contrast with richer, louder sounds emanating from the orchestra – which is not to say that Saint-Saëns’s piano parts are not sometimes loud, but volume never rules for very long.
