There are many recordings of clarinet music from the 19th century. Here we present pieces from the 18th, 20th and 21st. A wide range of compositional, emotional and performance styles. Clarinettists have always embraced different genres, from military music to klezmer and jazz. Here we present a diverse choice of music from the concert platform to demonstrate the versatility of this remarkable family of instruments.
Elizabeth Jordan

Jean Françaix (he did pronounce the X) was born in Le Mans in 1912 and studied at the Conservatoire of Le Mans, where his father was director. He went on to complete his studies at the Paris Conservatoire, with Nadia Boulanger.
He received early recognition as a composer. Maurice Ravel wrote to his father: “Among the child’s gifts I observe, above all, the most fruitful an artist can possess, that of curiosity. You must never stifle these precious gifts, or risk letting this young sensibility wither.” He went on to receive many awards, from a premier prix in piano at the Paris Conservatoire in 1930 to the prestigious Grand Prix SACEM in 1992. He died in 1997 in Paris.
The concerto for clarinet was composed in 1967-68. It was dedicated to the bassoonist and conductor Fernand Oubradous and first performed by the great French clarinettist Jacques Lancelot. When it first appeared, it was considered by many to be virtually unplayable. Françaix’s music is quite tonal within the French tradition, but the key he chose to frame the piece in proves challenging and some wondered if it would be easier to play on the, slightly larger, clarinet in A. The eminent English clarinettist, Jack Brymer wrote: “A work for the future, possibly, when the instrument has developed further or the human hand has changed. At present, its roulades in the key of B major are beyond almost any player; but the work is a worthwhile challenge, and the A clarinet would probably provide the answer.”
Françaix has provided us with a treasure trove of music for wind instruments and must have understood the technical problems as well as anyone. He himself wrote in a programme-note: “This concerto is, or at least I hope it is, amusing to listen to. It is a kind of aerobatics display for the ear, complete with loops, wing-turns and nose-dives which are fairly terrifying for the soloist, who needs to have a good stomach and several thousand flying hours under his belt. I must say the poor fellow has been given the full treatment, including a slow movement full of phrases with great charm but little time for breathing – rather like a long glide in a plane which is constantly on the verge of stalling. Finally, the pilot starts his noisy engines again, but remains carefree to the point of swapping his airforce cap for the revolving wig of a clown.”
Françaix clearly acknowledging the immense difficulty of his work, but proud to embrace it to achieve the kaleidoscope of exuberant virtuosity, the dazzling roller-coaster ride of pure fun which he has achieved. There are 4 movements which follow traditional forms. The first, Allegro, is in sonata form. The solo clarinet weaves an elaborate swirl of sound with the orchestral flute, while the bassoon acts as a comic disruptor. Nearly a third of the movement is taken up by the substantial cadenza.
The playful and witty second movement, Scherzando, is in ternary form. A-B-A. Here the orchestral clarinet becomes more involved. The listener might almost believe they are hearing a concerto for 2 clarinets. The solo opening phrase of the third movement, Andantino, seems to reflect the beginning of the second. A beautiful and wistful theme and variations, the solo clarinet sometimes serenely introverted, sometimes flamboyantly decorated, like distant birdsong. Finally, an exhilarating whirlwind introduction galvanises us into a joyous Rondo, Allegrissimo. Again, dazzling aerobatics, chuckling bassoons, and two further cadenzas bring things to a close.
Carl Nielsen was another 20th century composer who provided us with a magnificent concerto for clarinet. He famously said that he thought it among the very best of his output. Reading Françaix’s programme-note, one has to think that he seemed pretty pleased with his efforts, and rightly so!
Johann Melchior Molter was born in 1696 near Eisenach and spent most of his working life in Karlsruhe. He studied composition in Italy from 1719 to 1721 and died in 1765. If we think that he was born about 10 years after J.S.Bach and died about 10 years after the birth of Mozart we can precisely place him in the evolution of musical style.
His time coincides exactly with the emergence and development of the clarinet and he became one of the first composers to write for it. He had written several concerti for the trumpet and, when we remember that the word ‘Clarinet’ (Clarino, Clarionet) means ‘little trumpet’ we can understand his attraction to it. Clarino came to mean melodic playing in the upper register of the trumpet “with a soft and melodious, singing tone.”
Early clarinets were not fully chromatic, so players would need different sized instruments to manage more complicated key signatures. This has left us with the embarrassing situation today where we have soprano clarinets in A, Bflat and C and sopraninos in D, Eflat, G and Aflat, though the necessity for this has been removed by the development of woodwind technology. Molter chooses to write for the clarinet in D. This was one of the most common at that time and its popularity carried on for a couple of centuries. Many composers, including Stravinsky, Mahler and Strauss (Richard and Johann II) used the D clarinet. If we consider that the Rite of Spring requires the player to change between D and Eflat we must accept that this is for the difference in timbre rather than any practical reason. The clarinet in D has a distinctive sound; brighter than the sopranos, less shrill than the higher piccolos!
The 2 pieces presented here are the concerto no.1 MWV VI/41 in A major and the concerto no.5 MWV VI/36 in D major. The apparent discrepancy in the numbers highlights the fluidity of the catalogue system. We don’t know if pieces were written or discovered out of chronological order, or even, if some might have been originally written for trumpet and then re-orchestrated!
In these pieces, Molter has moved away from his Baroque roots, which might have suggested a style more akin to the ‘Concerto Grosso’, and presented us with small, but perfectly formed ‘classical’ concerto form. Three movements, fast slow fast. No surprises in the orchestra, harpsichord and strings accompanying the soloist. In this performance we have chosen to use single strings to enhance the ‘chamber’ feel which seems to suit the music well.
Harpsichordist Stephen Barlow writes; “The pure pleasure of that music-making, when we struck up the Molter concerti in such an intimate way, did hit me. It, surely, was the same thrill that first performances, with the ink barely dried, must have created. Surely Vivaldi, Bach and Handel’s concerti and concerti grossi, must have been with tiny forces, even single players in some instances. Cantatas too. We must have done those rehearsals in the same way – minimal direction but common purpose, terrific musicianship, just chamber-music at its best.”
Mark Jordan

The original inspiration for Nocturne arose from a kind commission from the clarinettist Emma Johnson in 2008 as an addition to the substantial number of pieces from different composers she has brought into being and performed over the years. Emma made no conditions relating to the form my piece might take, and although she may have imagined something more obviously in the mould of the ubiquitous concerto, I was drawn immediately into thinking of something more abstract with the wonderfully varied colours and virtuosic capabilities of the Clarinet in mind. The Marimba seemed to me an obvious partner, sharing as it does such richness and velvety softness in the lower registers, but also possessing percussive and atmospheric qualities to contrast with the Clarinet’s supremacy where legato is concerned.

I don’t know where the idea for a Nocturne came from, but it wasn’t from the classically romantic form conceived and so beautifully romanticised by John Field and Frédéric Chopin. ‘Nocturne’ instead suggested sleep and dreams, and the way our subconscious takes over in the quietest hours, constructing dreams over which we have no control, but which are of our own making, indelibly linked to our joys, aspirations, fears and failures. Sometimes they seem logical, sometimes very much the opposite. The Nocturne for Clarinet, Strings and Marimba as a result is a Fantasia, a journey, not lacking in some logicality and form but moving step by step, occasionally unpredictably. The Marimba begins as an accompanist to the solo Clarinet, is often in dialogue but sometimes acts as catalyst with dramatic effect, only returning at the end of the adventure to its supportive role. The Strings are the landscape, contributing dimension to the drama, the unfolding of a narrative which, like a dream explains nothing but can feel so fleetingly tangible.
Stephen Barlow