This must have been one of the last recordings made 
          by the Le Mans Symphony Orchestra founded by Jean Françaix’s 
          father in the 1920s. It flourished for many years, turning professional 
          in the 1980s, only to disband in 1996 due to money shortages. In 1992 
          they were recorded live giving a Franco-Belgian concert of symphonic 
          literature of which only one work, the perennial Franck, will be familiar. 
          The advantage for the record buyer is clear – two works not otherwise 
          (to the best of my knowledge) in the catalogue given in good, disaster-free 
          performances and in idiomatic style. The disadvantage is the quality 
          of the unearthed material because, in all honesty, and as one who reveres 
          Fauré, it would take the oratory of Plato to defend this slight 
          effusion. His op 68 was a Suite d’orchestre in three movements of which 
          this is the first, and written between 1867 and 1873. Its premiere was 
          given in piano duet form by the composer and Saint-Saëns. Whilst 
          it would be wrong to say that the work is not without merit – it embeds 
          some delightful lightness and lyrical felicities in the score – the 
          material as such is neither particularly distinctive nor especially 
          symphonic. The lyricism moreover doesn’t quite "join up," 
          Fauré clearly having some difficulty with the syntax of a larger 
          orchestral score. As a result it seems sectional, and rather shapeless 
          despite the relative formality of the name by which it is now known, 
          the Allegro Symphonique. Allegro pas de Symphonique is perhaps 
          a more apt title, for all its straining after a degree of grandeur. 
          The orchestral strings of the Le Mans orchestra sound a mite undernourished 
          here, though the brass are nicely warm and shape well. 
        
 
        
Messager wrote a symphony. It was news to me as well. 
          He was twenty-two, full of ambition and presumably eager to join the 
          symphonic club. The symphony was first performed by that indefatigable 
          promoter of the native literature and spotter of talent, Colonne, in 
          1878. In the expected classical four movements this is a solidly mid-century 
          Mendelssohnian work. The first movement – sonata form – is fresh nevertheless 
          and melodic and goes with a mellifluous ease with occasional Schumannesque 
          outbursts. The slow movement is gravely attractive and lyrical and has 
          a curiously compelling seriousness – it might do to extract this as 
          an occasional piece because it’s too good to lie languishing on the 
          shelves. The presto has a slightly heavy tread in a Mendelssohnian way 
          but is full of life with verdant wind choirs and gruff lower strings. 
          Messager can’t resist a youthful flirtation with fugato but the trio 
          is nicely spun and relaxed. The finale hardly surmounts that nineteenth 
          century conundrum, the Symphonic Finale Problem, but whilst hardly distinguished 
          thematically is at least sturdy and pleasant. The Franck is of course 
          the odd man out. It receives an equable and attractive reading avoiding 
          the brittleness that can afflict other performances – some warmth here 
          and attentive musicality from Jean-Pierre Ferey. 
        
 
        
The recordings are decent – some of the fortes in the 
          Messager seem a little harsh – and the repertoire of interest to Francophiles 
          looking for youthful evidence of traditional symphonic aspirations from 
          two composers who made their names predominantly in other forms. 
        
 
        
Jonathan Woolf