Piano Concerto No.2 in G minor, Op.22

The Piano Concerto in G minor “begins,” it is said, “with Bach and ends with Offenbach.” It is true in a way, although there is far more to it than that of course. Leaving Offenbach aside for the moment, Bach is certainly present in the Andante sostenuto opening bars where, in a solo fantasia, Saint-Saëns the pianist dramatically recreates the experience of Saint-Saëns the organist at the Madeleine.

Immediately after the first entry of the orchestra, however, he recreates another experience. While he was at work on the Concerto in the Spring of 1868 Gabriel Fauré, a former pupil, came to him with a recently completed setting of the Tantum ergo for voice and organ. “Give it to me!” said Saint-Saëns, “I can make something out of it.” In fact, he made the rest of the first movement out of it, improvising on Fauré’s solemn melody and integrating it with the fantasia material in a way which the public didn’t immediately understand but which Liszt certainly appreciated for its originality. In spite of its debts to others, it is a first movement like no other of its kind.

One reason why the audience at the first performance in the Salle Pleyel in Paris in 1868 found the first movement incoherent is that, having had only three weeks in which to write and rehearse the work, Saint-Saëns played it (as he himself confessed) “very badly” and failed to do it justice. The Allegro scherzando, on the other hand, was an instant success. Based on two delightful tunes - a mercurial study in parallel thirds, introduced by the soloist in a rhythm gently suggested by the timpani, and a rather more humorous idea introduced by bassoons and lower strings over a vamped accompaniment on the piano - it is certainly not lacking in charm.

If Saint-Saëns could get away with the Scherzo on insufficient rehearsal, he must have made a real mess of the Presto last movement. Although it is as stylish and as cheerfully irresponsible as any finale in any of the Offenbach operettas which were so popular in Paris at the time, it was considered a failure at first. Carried forward on an irresistible tarantella rhythm and disinclined either to rest or to change the subject more than briefly, it has since proved to be one of the major attractions in a work of brilliant wit and lasting popularity.