Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra: Online Concert Programme | Wed 17 Jun 2026

Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921): Phaéton

Saint-Saëns composed Phaéton in 1873. This was the second of his four symphonic poems, of which Danse macabre is by far the most popular. In Greek mythology Phaethon is the son of the Oceanid Clymene and the sun-god Helios. Saint-Saëns wrote a programme note for the 1875 publication: ‘Phaethon [Ancient Greek spelling] has been granted permission to drive the chariot of his father, the Sun, across the sky. But his clumsy hands lead the steed astray. The flaming chariot, thrown off course, approaches the earthly regions. The entire universe is about to perish in flames when Jupiter strikes the imprudent Phaethon with his thunderbolt.’

A sombre introduction marked Maestoso leads to the main, faster section of the piece, dominated by a galloping rhythm evoking Phaéton’s horse-drawn ride through the sky. When the woodwind take over the galloping rhythm, the strings have accompanying pizzicato. A heroic theme is introduced by the brass and becomes predominant, before a new theme on the horns brings lyrical contrast while the galloping rhythm is relegated to a delicate accompanying role. Saint-Saëns admired the symphonic poems of Liszt, who was the pioneer of the form. Following Liszt’s technique of metamorphosis – or transformation – of themes, Saint-Saëns transforms the character of the heroic theme originally introduced by the brass, as the strings play a smoothed-out version around the middle of the piece. The galloping rhythm returns, and the atmosphere becomes increasingly turbulent, until Jupiter strikes down the chariot with his thunderbolt, killing Phaéton. Here Saint-Saëns reinforces the impact with four pairs of timpani, bass drum, gong and cymbals. A much slower section leads to the subdued ending of the piece.

© Philip Borg-Wheeler

Francis Poulenc (1899-1963): Organ Concerto

1. Andante
2. Allegro giocoso
3. Andante moderato
4. Tempo allegro. Molto agitato
5. Très calme. Lento
6. Tempo de l’allegro initial
7. Tempo d’introduction. Largo

Poulenc gained fame and notoriety as a young man in the 1920s as one of the group of composers known as Les Six, the others being Louis Durey, Germaine Tailleferre, Arthur Honegger, Darius Milhaud and Georges Auric. Initially they worked together, their aim being to draw inspiration from ‘Parisian folklore’, the street musicians and the music halls. However, from this common beginning the members of the group went their separate ways. For the prolific Poulenc this meant an absorption of many different styles, with a clear tendency towards the romantic lyricism that marked him as one of the 20th century’s best song writers.

The Concerto for organ, string orchestra and timpani was commissioned in 1938 by the Princess Edmond de Polignac, to whom it is dedicated. The structure is somewhat unusual, since the whole piece is built on one theme which undergoes various transformations. According to the composer, the conception behind the design was in the nature of Fantasias, by the Danish/German Baroque composer Dietrich Buxtehude and whilst this neo-Baroque approach was perhaps typical of the music being written by others at that time – Stravinsky, for instance – it was less so of Poulenc himself.

Poulenc’s music, as befits a concerto for the king of instruments, reflects the full range of the contrasts which are available. The opening Andante generates music of great nobility, which is then given contrast by the more lightweight mood of an Allegro giocoso. This in turn gives way to a flowing Andante moderato, before the tempo quickens to Allegro in music of driving and purposeful exuberance. The tempo slows once more and accordingly the mood calms, but the original Allegro resumes until in due course it brings the return of the stately opening theme. There is a sense of arrival at this point, but the concluding phase forms an epilogue, with scoring of the utmost sensitivity, as the solo viola is accompanied by the organ and timpani.

© Terry Barfoot

Lili Boulanger (1893-1918): D’un matin de printemps

A brilliantly talented member of a highly musical household (both of her parents and her sister were professional musicians), Lili Boulanger was the first woman ever to win the coveted Prix de Rome, the composition prize of the Paris Conservatoire, in 1913. However, a severe childhood illness meant that she was seldom well for long periods of time, and she died of intestinal tuberculosis when she was just 24 years old. Within her short life, she wrote many vocal and choral pieces – and a small clutch of chamber works, some of which she also orchestrated. These include D’un matin de printemps, composed from 1917-18. Boulanger’s original scoring was for violin or flute with piano, but she also produced a version for piano trio, and a further arrangement for full orchestra, as we hear it tonight.

This evocative work captures the busy, buzzing energy of a spring morning: harp and percussion glitter and shine in the early light, and Boulanger sends the strings, flute and clarinet shooting and skittering around the ensemble. There are darker moments too: rich and uncertain harmonies that seem somewhat unearthly, before the orchestra seems to shake off their influence and send us back to the sparkling figures and textures of the opening. The extraordinary vividness of Boulanger’s writing and orchestration hints at what a central role she might have enjoyed in French music of the 1920s and beyond, had she lived: this is music with all the evocative power of Claude Debussy, already pre-empting the dash and swagger of Francis Poulenc.

© Katy Hamilton

Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921): Symphony No. 3 ‘Organ’

1. Adagio – Allegro moderato – Poco adagio
2. Allegro moderato – Presto – Maestoso – Allegro

Saint-Saëns was a prolific composer throughout his long and distinguished career. With his creative gifts of fluent and elegant invention, skilful craftsmanship and well-balanced orchestration, he was possessed of a rare talent. For example, by the age of 12 it seems he could perform all the Beethoven piano sonatas from memory, and soon after he had become established in Parisian musical life, Berlioz said of him: ‘He lacks nothing except inexperience.’

The nature of Saint-Saëns’s musical style leaned in the direction of elegance, wit and sophistication rather than towards either modernism or emotional turbulence. What is more, the man himself left an artistic credo which is particularly revealing: ‘For me, art is form. Expression and passion seduce the amateur above all; but for the true artist it is different. A composer who is not fully satisfied by elegant lines, harmonious colours and beautiful harmonic progressions has no understanding of art.’

The creative development of the long career of Saint-Saëns, in common with those of so many other 19th century composers, was advanced by the encouragement and support he received from the great Franz Liszt. The Symphony in C minor, which was Saint-Saëns’s largest and most ambitious orchestral composition, was modelled on the principle of ‘symphonic metamorphosis’, as found in Liszt’s symphonic poems. Moreover, before the work was fully scored, Saint-Saëns played the music through to his hero at the piano. It had been his intention to dedicate the Symphony to Liszt, but the latter died before the first performance took place in London on 19 May 1886. Therefore, the published score featured an inscription to Liszt’s memory.

Saint-Saëns had already composed four symphonies prior to this example, but he did not permit the first two to reach the stage of publication. The commission for the symphony came from the Royal (then London) Philharmonic Society; and from the outset the work proved extremely popular with audiences both in England and in France. Indeed, for the French premiere, the Orchestra of the Paris Conservatoire had to schedule three performances in order to satisfy the immediate demand to hear the music.

The orchestral forces are somewhat unusual, since in addition to a large ensemble featuring triple woodwinds, there is a solo role for the organ, and in the finale a piano at which two players are required. In terms of structure, too, there is a strongly individual approach. Saint-Saëns was sufficiently aware of the music’s originality in this respect that he felt inclined to provide an explanation: ‘This symphony is divided into two sections. Nevertheless, it contains in principle the four traditional movements. But the first, arrested in development, serves as an introduction to the Adagio, while the scherzo is linked by the same process to the finale.’  However, this description takes for granted the masterly fashion in which the transitions are brought about.  And it says nothing of the characteristics found in the ideas themselves which, while fine inspirations in their own right, have that close organic unity demanded by the overall conception, as inspired by Liszt’s ‘metamorphosis’ principle.

Saint-Saëns holds back the full effect of his orchestral resources until the finale, in which the entry of the organ at the beginning of the Maestoso is a thrilling coup-de-théâtre. The theme of the first movement is heard on the strings with piano accompaniment, then in the full orchestra along with the organ, before an intensified rhythmic emphasis develops a powerful momentum in the approaches to the grandiose coda.

The Symphony, so preoccupied with expressing majestic triumph, is in many respects the exception among the output of this composer whose style is more frequently associated with witty vitality. But there can be no doubting that the music achieves its objectives. After the first French performance, Charles Gounod described Saint-Saëns as ‘the French Beethoven’, confirming that here is music to stir the emotions.

© Terry Barfoot