The French composer and music critic, Paul Le Flem, died in 1984 at the amazing age of 103, and although his music draws on a number of fairly obvious influences (his teachers Roussel and d'Indy being among the most conspicuous), he certainly raged against old age. At least that's the impression gained from listening to his unremittingly outspoken Fourth Symphony (1971-2), a veritable cornucopia of abrupt contrasts and dramatic incidents with an atmospheric Lent at its core. Le Flem's language was mostly descriptive and tonally based, and his symphonic poem Pour les morts (dedicated to the memory of two of his children) expresses a melancholy protest that recalls both Debussy (most specifically of Pelleas) and Chausson. D'Indy gave the premiere in New York in 1922 and described it as one of the finest symphonic compositions known to him at the time.
The benign centrepiece of this Marco Polo selection is made up of two suites, both of them relatively lightweight: the pleasant but somewhat anodyne Sept pieces enfantines (orchestrated from piano pieces that were originally composed in 1912), and a modestly scored sequence of film music, Le grand jardinier de France, music that sounds exactly as one might expect—tuneful, blandly eventful (evoking various styles and genres) and without the least pretension towards sequential logic.
The playing on this disc is adequate for the purposes of presenting Le Flem to repertory-hungry adventurers, but certainly isn't good enough to convert those who habitually avoid the musically second-rate. Wind and brass tuning is occasionally suspect and the strings lack polish, but the spirit seems right and the recordings (which date from between 1987 and 1993) are generally excellent. As to risking a recommendation, I'd say that film buffs and light music devotees should sample before purchase; but if originality and a strong creative profile are your main priorities, then anything more than a lukewarm commendation from me would be misleading.'