Marcel POOT (1901–1988)
Symphony No. 1 (1929) [18:10]
Symphony No. 2 Triptyche Symphonique (1937) [22:56]
Symphony No. 3 (1952) [24:33]
Symphony No. 4 (1970) [21:36]
Symphony No. 5 (1974) [17:52]
Symphony No. 6 (1978) [19:43]
Symphony No. 7 (1982) [16:09]
BRTN Philharmonic Orchestra/Hans Rotman (1)
Belgian National Radio Symphony Orchestra/Franz André (2)
Moscow Symphony Orchestra/Frédéric Devreese (3, 5-7)
Antwerp Philharmonic/Léonce Gras (4)
rec. 1960-2021, Belgium.
NAXOS 8.574292-93 [65:47 + 75:39]
Belgium has been the butt of more than a few jokes about its supposed surfeit of dullness. The guffawing “attraction” can be ranked with the sort of spavine ‘humour’ associated with the Irish or with mothers-in-law. In the realm of music, naming Belgian composers of distinction, or at the very least of interest, from the last few centuries is, in fact, not all that difficult.
Recordings, have since the 1950s, opened the door to the curious and then to the knowledgeable. Belgian Decca was once in the vanguard of this process, then along came Discover, Phaedra and Cypres; even Hyperion came to the front. Composers like Meulemans, Boesmans, Jongen, Jef van Hoof, Gilson, Biarent, Benoit, de Jong, Absil, Ryelandt and Mortelmans are just a few examples. If you cherry-pick the offerings on BBC Radio 3’s “Through the Night” programme you will also encounter orchestral magicians like Veremans, Blockx and Alpaerts. Naxos, and previously Marco Polo, now carry the Belgian standard into battle against active hostility, indolence or sheer indifference.
Marcel Poot, of Belgian birth, composed mightily, mostly for instrumental forces and rose to high office in the Royal Conservatory of Brussels. Orchestral music was the main draw for him although there are also works for wind band, a Belgian specialism. Outside his seven symphonies there are various other works including the tone poem Charlot (Chaplin). As an aside: Chaplin’s popularity also drew works from Koechlin, Milhaud and Aubert as well as from Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Ronald Stevenson, Haydn Wood and Teodorescu-Ciocanea. Back to Poot’s symphonies: they populate the years of his late youth, maturity and old age. Predominantly tonal and in three movements, they are hallmarked by rhythmic energy, bright orchestration, lyrical impact and comparative brevity.
Naxos have made undoctrinaire decisions for the present recording project. These extend to a recording of the Fourth Symphony that was first issued in yoke with Alpaerts’ James Ensor Suite on a Cultura LP from the late 1970s. They have also enlisted two discs originally put out on Marco Polo. Here are stereo and mono recordings; all but one being stereo and all neatly and sensibly held in a single width case.
His first three symphonies are notable because they were completed during periods that stood away from the two world wars. Three are from the 1970s and there’s a final one from Poot’s early 80s and six years before his death. Not included here is a recording of the Sinfonietta (1948) from Léonce Gras and the Belgian National Orchestra which might have been known to some from a Decca LP that appeared in 1960.
Symphony No. 1 (1929) holds fascination because it has popular culture (jazz) threaded through it. It was premiered in Brussels in 1930, by L’Orchestre Symphonique de Bruxelles conducted by its dedicatee Vladimir Golschmann. It consists of three movements that are variously flighty with a joyous Wirén-like jumpiness, idyllic with a pavane’s flute-led languor and an eruptive carnival delight. It’s not a heartbeat away from Ibert’s Escales and there’s even a bit part for saxophone. The Belgians will forgive me, but it’s all quite frou-frou French. I am not sure that I picked up on the jazz accents claimed by various sources even if it is certainly written with a smile.
Poot hedged his bets by designating the Second (1937) as “Triptyque symphonique”. Again, it’s in three movements. The first movement has a playground game threaded through its pages of breathless ecstasy. The second is given to brooding around a hymn-like melody. Confident, it was written in the shadow of the Second World War and for Belgium another Occupation. That said, there is little here that foreshadows war. Across the Channel a whole generation of British symphonies (RVW 4, Bax 6 and Walton 1) can be heard as manifesting the rumblings of a world war to come. An ebullient Moderato assai takes time for some ecstasies voiced by the strings and lofted high by the irrepressible brass. Poot dedicated the Second Symphony to conductor Franz André (1893–1975) who gave the premiere and is the conductor for this recording made in 1960. Inevitably its 62 years vintage casts a modicum of harshness across the sound of this work. Nothing to put you off, and even so the brilliance of the sound more than compensates.
A lifetime of world experience rests heavily on the shoulders of the Third Symphony. This takes the form of a certain sobriety of mood to counterbalance a controlled serenade element. This is coupled with downbeat brittle reflections and a ruthlessness of jerky rhythmic activity. The finale embraces Poot’s delight in lofty writing for the French horns.
Poot’s Fourth Symphony again shows emotional restraint. A tight leash is kept on surrender to the passions, gentle and fierce. Again, Poot sets loose a supercharged virtuoso orchestral display - rhythm and uproar in controlled balance - in the outer movements. It also introduces us to what we now recognise as a typically controlled central Poot Andante. The work was premiered in 1971 by the RTBF Symphony Orchestra conducted by Rudolf Alberth. Léonce Gras, who conducted the earlier Sinfonietta vinyl recording, here conducts the Antwerp Orchestra. The present recording dates from 1971 and has been well transferred. The Fourth is the first of three symphonies to be products of the 1970s. In all seven symphonies Poot evinced no time for the experimentation of the Manchester School or New York’s finest.
The Symphony No. 5 is shorter than the Fourth; indeed symphonies 5-7 are shorter than the Fourth. The Allegro vivo blasts along like “Ate … come hot from hell”. It’s followed by a calmer Adagio and a somewhat troubled finale that also explodes into action and only at the end carries the implication of pummelled out victory, as does the next symphony in Poot’s canon. Symphony No. 6 (1978) surrenders to Poot’s weakness for rhythmic punctuation, all the time clawing at the heavens but in the last two movements showing a smilingly indulgent face to the gentler emotions. Dating from four years after the Sixth, Poot’s last Symphony was the Seventh. It is the shortest and most concentrated of the seven. Whatever the composer’s intention, it acts as an epitome of Poot’s symphonic manner and content. Fearful souls could listen to this and if they do not take to it then they need not trouble further with Poot. On the other hand, if its power and beguilements appeal then you will have to hear all the other symphonies.
These are fine works and I count myself fortunate to have heard many of them at least once from other collectors over the years in LP and radio recordings. These featured Belgian orchestras conducted by Fernand Quinet (1898-1971), Mendi Rodan (1929-2009), Fernand Terby (1928-2004) and J Ghyross.
Perhaps Naxos and Peter Bromley, who is the Poot release coordinator, will next look at some of Poot’s Belgian contemporaries. For a start there’s the somewhat stern but noble Victor Legley (1915-1994) who wrote six symphonies variously recorded by Paul Strauss, Daniel Sternefeld and Georges Octors, who was born in the Belgian Congo. Someone should also look at an intégrale of the classy Arthur Meulemans (1884-1966) who wrote fifteen symphonies and a lot more in other genres. Legley is more of a kindred spirit to Poot than the more impressive and romantic-impressionist Meulemans.
The Poot booklet notes are by Luc Vertommen and Jacques Van Deun and the English versions have been fashioned from the originals by Andrew Elliot and Simon Shrimpton-Smith. The disc cover displays Arc-en-ciel (1891) by Anna Boch (1848–1933).
Wonderful evangelical work by Naxos and their knowledgeable and imaginative team.
Rob Barnett
Information received from Eric Schissel
'I
believe Legley wrote 8 symphonies, not 6. (There's definitely a recording of
a 7th symphony for brass, and an I'm sure fallible "catalog of Legley's
orchestral music" lists 8 symphonies from Op.10 of 1942 to symphonies 8 and
7 (opp.121, 112) of 1988/1989.) I've heard Legley's 4th symphony and other
works of his and concur in Mr.Barnett's sentiments.'
