In his “Quarterly retrospect” in August 1996, RL pointed out that “while Bartok has always had a following among the wider musical public, for some reason Roussel never has”. Perhaps the answer lies in Basil Deane’s assessment in Grove that “Roussel’s style was essentially an eclectic one, based on personal manipulation of traditional elements”. Bartok’s mature style was never ‘essentially’ eclectic. But listening through Roussel’s fine symphony cycle is to witness, for the most part, a genuine symphonist at work. There is a fascinating progression and shift of references, from the late-romantic time-scale in the first two symphonies – Debussy and d’Indy in the pre-war First’s pictorialism, early Prokofiev in the Second’s brooding and eruptive post-war blues (blatantly borrowed Prokofievian motor-rhythmic style in evidence near the end of its finale) – to the crystallization of the mature Roussel 1930s style in the more neo-classical concision of the last two symphonies (a manner that does not prevent heartfelt expression, glorious melodies and sweeping gestures in both symphonies’ slow movements). Roussel himself declared that his music was destined for “very rare listeners”, yet there are no barriers to its ready appreciation, once one has accepted that, unlike Bartok, he wasn’t a true original.
Since this Dutoit Roussel cycle first appeared, we have had another from Marek Janowski, which I underrated in my original review, overlooking his very considerable achievements in the First and Second Symphonies. Heard after Dutoit, Janowski brings an extra dimension to these two symphonies, allowing himself more freedom and space for evocative shaping and shading (the forces of darkness in the Second are more powerfully drawn). And adding positively to this are the deeper perspectives of Janowski’s RCA recordings. But turn to the Third and Fourth, and it is Dutoit and his players who more consistently deliver the essential incisive accentuation, and whose engineers relay tone and detail with a more immediately engaging bolder projection and lively presence. So, six of one and half a dozen of the other, though the Dutoit set is half the price of the Janowski.
There is every reason to regard Honegger’s five symphonies, as a cycle, as important as Roussel’s. But although the composers overlapped, were both pupils of d’Indy, and may have both learned too much from 1920s Stravinsky and Prokofiev, Honegger is very obviously next generation, musically, and in his response to not one, but two world wars. The music is harmonically much more daring (plenty of writing in two keys at once), dealing in sometimes consecutive, at others simultaneous, but always very bold and often very moving contrasts – gesturally graphic grim realities and possible deliverance or almost escapism – all within a neo-classical framework. Dutoit is perhaps rather better at the often seraphic beauty of the deliverance and escapism – for example, the haven of the Fourth Symphony is the single most successful performance here – than he is with the music’s muscular driving force and dark power. Nevertheless his cycle is a considerable achievement, and the Munich recordings, though not as vividly present as some, are faultlessly balanced and satisfyingly natural. In short, at the price, an attractive starting-point for the Honegger symphonies. Minimal insert-notes are a feature of these Ultima reissues.'