Oftentimes, the most beautiful piece is never the most difficult or the flashiest one.
Cantabile. Lyrical. Expressive. Jean-Pierre Rampal plays the flute as if he were singing — every phrase shaped like a breath, every note carrying the weight of a spoken word.
Camille Saint-Saëns’ Romance, Op. 37 isn’t a technically demanding piece. The notes are simple, the scales predictable, the fingerings familiar. On paper, it looks almost effortless — something any advanced student could easily sight-read.
But that’s the illusion. To play this piece well indeed does not need conquering difficulty. But, since there are no dazzling passages to hide behind, no acrobatics to distract the ear — one need to transcend above simplicity. Every contour of a phrase, nuance of breath are exposed under a microscope.
And this is where Rampal shows us what true artistry means. The flute only sings if the musician does. It demands patience and devotion. One thing all the (interesting or difficult) piece taught me over the years is that, mastery isn’t always about doing the basics well, then beauty naturally arise without forcing it.