We are pleased to share a special Musings, a preview of the program notes for our upcoming concert. Enjoy these notes, and buy tickets for the livestream of the concert to hear these pieces played in person.
Cello Concerto No. 1 in A Minor, Op. 33
Camille Saint-Saëns
Camille Saint‑Saëns may not be the first name that comes to mind when we think of “musical genius,” but leaving him off that list would be a mistake. His God‑given talent was of the sort that makes even other prodigies shake their heads. By the age of two he could read; by three he was composing little pieces at the piano; and by ten he was giving public concerts where he famously offered to play any Beethoven sonata from memory as an encore. What’s remarkable is how he carried that early brilliance into adulthood with a sense of discipline and curiosity that kept his music fresh long after the novelty of precocity had faded.
His childhood was shaped by a focused education and a deep immersion in the artistic life of Paris. His father died when Camille was an infant, prompting his mother and great‑aunt to devote themselves entirely to his upbringing. They ensured he had the finest teachers and the freedom to explore his talents. What they—and his teachers—discovered was that he was something of a young sponge, absorbing languages, literature, mathematics . . . everything . . . with the same ease he absorbed music. That breadth of learning became a hallmark of his creative life, as though demonstrating he was as comfortable discussing astronomy as he was counterpoint.
By his twenties, Saint-Saëns was already a respected organist and composer, admired by luminaries such as Franz Liszt and Hector Berlioz. And in 1872, at the age of 37, he produced one of his most enduring works: the Cello Concerto No. 1 in A Minor, Op. 33. The piece brims with energy, and clarity, but with a desire to push musical forms of the time in new directions.
The concerto was written for the cellist Auguste Tolbecque, a virtuoso known for his warm tone and expressive phrasing. Saint‑Saëns responded with a work that treats the cello not as a noble, brooding soloist but as a quick‑witted conversationalist, taking its cues from the orchestra from the very start. In fact, the cello leaps into action in the opening measure without the usual orchestral preamble, as if Saint‑Saëns simply couldn’t wait to let the instrument speak. The concerto unfolds in a single continuous movement, though its internal sections give the impression of a three‑part structure. This seamless design was innovative for its time and reflects the composer’s belief in expression through economy—qualities he prized throughout his life.
Listeners often notice the concerto’s blend of elegance whilst getting caught in the whirr of the technical passages. Saint‑Saëns gives the soloist moments of brilliant agility, but he also writes melodies of lyrical simplicity that speak to the listener with the affection of a folk song being passed down from a favored relative. For a young soloist performing it today, the concerto offers a chance to inhabit that same spirit of poised excitement. It invites the player to be both storyteller and gymnast, shaping lines that sing while navigating the work’s mercurial turns. Hearing it, one understands why this concerto has endured so vibrantly in the centuries since its composer passed into the ages.
The rest of the Musings for “Impressions: How Do They Do That?” are posted on the Bloomington Symphony website. Join us in person on Sunday, April 12 at 2 p.m. at the Gideon Ives Auditorium at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. This concert includes Marko Bajzer’s Sky-Tinted Water, Samuel Dangerfield performing Camille Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1 in A Minor, and Ottorino Respighi’s Pines of Rome. Purchase your livestream ticket here.