La clarinette francaise indeed, where the repertoire is concerned, but not where the style of playing is concerned. The French style of reed-playing when these composers were alive concentrated on technical efficency at the expense of style and warmth of tone; Emma Johnson does not, managing to offer all three of these desirable attributes in generous measure. To hear their clarinet music played as well as this would, I think, have delighted these composers greatly.
It is also very likely indeed to delight equally any of today's listeners to the record; you may have to be a player of the instrument (quite possible: at times it seems that there must be about two million clarinet-players of varying degrees of skill in England alone) to appreciate fully the great technical accomplishment involved: but you only need to want to enjoy the music to appreciate the warmth and style with which it is conveyed.
Johnson's colleague, Gordon Back, of course, makes his contribution where the piano is concerned with great skill but he makes a further contribution, less self-evidently, with good arrangements of several short pieces admirably suited to the repertoire. Milhaud's Brazileira, however, is not (I learned from the informative notes) an arrangement, but the original form of the Scaramouche suite, which was conceived in the colouring of piano with clarinet doubling sax for use as incidental music to Moliere's Le Medecin volant. Milhaud also contributes his exacting Duo Concertant, Poulenc his moving Sonata; and Saint-Saens his own Sonata, earliest of the music and an endlessly fluent piece, agreeably exemplifying the composer's view of himself as an apple-tree which could not help producing apples. This particular apple is among the tastiest; and so is this clarinet record.'