Think of La belle époque and I’m not sure Johannes Brahms necessarily springs to mind. Nevertheless, his First Clarinet Sonata, dressed in dubious orchestral garb by Luciano Berio, forms a significant portion of Annelien Van Wauwe’s debut disc for Pentatone, along with the premiere recording of Manfred Trojahn’s 2002 Rhapsodie for clarinet and orchestra. Although its three movements do bear French titles, the Parisian element of this recital is limited to Debussy, Pierné and Widor, aided by Van Wauwe’s silky ‘Vintage’ Buffet Crampon instrument.

Debussy’s Prèmiere Rapsodie emerges gradually from the mists, immediately establishing the Belgian clarinettist’s warm, elegant tone and easy legato. Trills are evenly placed and the high notes are floated without becoming pinched. The Orchestre National de Lille prove sensitive partners, Alexandre Bloch bringing out the rich detail of Debussy’s orchestration. The two other brief French numbers come in rather twee orchestrations by Jelle Tassyns – lots of pretty percussion and coy flutes – but are attractively presented.

Nigel Simeone’s booklet note quotes Brahms’s letter to his clarinettist muse Richard Mühlfeld: ‘I have not been so impulsive as to write a clarinet concerto for you! But if everything goes well, there will be two modest sonatas with piano!!!???’ I’m not sure that gave licence for Luciano Berio to orchestrate that First Sonata, in F minor, for a concerto it is not. The problem for any sonata orchestration is that a sonata is essentially an instrument in harmony with the piano, whereas a concerto sets the solo instrument in (virtuoso) opposition to the orchestra. Brahms rarely pits the clarinet in opposition to the piano so the orchestral result is rather glutinous, the clarinet wallowing in stodge. Berio prefaces the first two movements with short introductions, both beside the point. Van Wauwe plays the sonata/concerto well though, her chalumeau register suitably juicy, and she floats the Andante un poco adagio second movement nicely, with great sensitivity to her phrasing.

The most interesting item on the disc is undoubtedly the Trojahn Rhapsodie. Just 18 minutes long, its three movements never outstay their welcome. The ‘Rêverie’ opens in suitably dreamy mode but soon turns nightmarish, with huge plunges from stratospheric top notes to the bottom. The second movement has a real cantabile character – do I detect traces of Tchaikovsy’s ‘None but the lonely heart’ there? – while the ‘Caprice’ is a helter-skelter high-wire act for the soloist, which Van Wauwe navigates with aplomb.