Biarent: Symphonie

My reconnaissance of turn-of-the-century French repertoire, with Debussy as the center of gravity, continues to yield unexpected and very happy discoveries! Last week I ordered a limited edition 50 CD collection issued by the Belgian label Cypres at the occasion of the Orchestre Philharmonique de Liège Wallonie Bruxelles' 50th birthday. They are sold at the bargain price of 1 euro/CD and offer a tantalising overview of the orchestra's recorded history, from 1960 to the present day. My interest was particularly piqued given their strength in the French repertoire. I used to know the orchestra well as in the 1980s it was one of the ensembles we tended to go and listen to quite often when they gave guest concerts in the Brussels Bozar's Henry Leboeuf hall. Distinctively bearded Pierre Bartholomée, the orchestra's chief conductor in those years, was certainly one of the most familiar stage presences to me. Likely I'll discuss the contents of this CD box in more depth at a later stage. For now I want to zoom in on just one of the treasures I quite haphazardly drew from this box earlier today.

My hand happened to pick out a recording from a Belgian composer I'd never heard of before: Adolphe Biarent. Wikipedia doesn't tell us much apart from the fact that he was born in 1871 and died in 1916. That makes him pretty much an exact contemporary of Claude Debussy (1862-1918) and Alberic Magnard (1865-1914). He studied in Brussels and Gent, won a Belgian Prix de Rome in 1901 and spent the rest of his life animating musical life in Charleroi. He left a modest oeuvre, consisting primarily of orchestral and chamber works. That's about all we know of him.

His only Symphony in D minor dates from 1908. Obviously I didn't know what to expect but I was hooked after just a few minutes by the first movement's (Allegro assai ed agitato) noble theme proposed by unison trombones and horns. What followed was a half an hour long symphonic fresco that kept me spellbound by its epic grandeur and tight organisation. The musical language is conservative by all standards. It actually reminds me most of the vigorous romanticism brandished by the Wagner of the 1840s and 50s (Fliegender Holländer, Tannhaüser, Lohengrin). Harmonically and architecturally Biarent obviously also leans on César Franck (cyclic principle; incidentally the work is in the same key as the Frank Symphonie). Nevertheless there is a freshness and sweep in the conception that is utterly compelling. This music just feels honest and right and it is intelligently put together to boot.

The initial allegro is bold in the surefooted way it plays out the contrasting material: a nervous theme given to the strings and the somber, almost Brucknerian intonations of the brass. The movement ends on a chilling, crescendo peroration from the trombones. The second movement is a short (4'42") but memorable Adagio that obviously draws on Wagner's Lohengrin but there are also echoes from Franck's Psyche and Symphonie. It's quite touching in its purity and conciseness. An even shorter scherzo follows, flowery in its springy rhythm and delicate orchestration. Themes from the earlier movements are skillfully woven into the orchestral fabric. There are beautiful soloistic passages for the clarinet and horn. All this in a movement of just over 3 minutes long. The lengthy and complex finale (over 13') picks up on the stormy atmosphere of the first movement. There is an almost Lisztian grandeur to the unfolding symphonic conflict. Again there is an imposing, almost ghostly theme that is given as a motto theme to the darker brass. A central episode brings some relief with lighter harmonies and wistful Mahlerian trumpet signals. But soon the conflict flares up again. Lavish harp glissandos announce the work's redemptive and ruminating closing paragraph. A rousing and triumphalist coda brings the symphony to an end.

I have heard the symphony now four times today and I am thoroughly impressed and happy with this discovery. I keep wondering how much glorious music has been barely recorded, or worse, never has seen been able to find an audience at all.  Luckily enough there is more on this and another CD in the orchestra's jubilee box.

The recording dates from 1995 and the Liège Orchestra led by Pierre Bartholomée is to be especially commended for an utterly inspired and characterful reading of this neglected work. Technically and interpretatively this production leaves nothing to be desired. I look very much forward to further exploring this marvelous set of 50 CDs.