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As is the Violin Concerto/Symphonic Poem Le Ménétrier (The Minstrel) from 1911.

Most of it I find very attractive, but unfortunately d'Ollone's orchestral works are rather difficult to get performed because of his unfortunate choices (in hindsight) of genre. The Fantaisie is too short at 13 minutes (alas, don't get me started about the demise of the Konzertstück); the scènes lyriques, orchestral songs, cantatas and chorales are uncommon genres for a modern concert hall; at just under 20 minutes, the wonderful symphonic poem Les villes maudites is really too long for the overture slot but too short to be the major orchestral piece of the evening (not even counting the required choir). Le Ménétrier may the only work I know of his to have a realistic shot at revival in the concert halls. That's a pity, because a lot of his music is tuneful and driven, yet contemplative in a way somewhere between Pierné and Tournemire. Of course, there's also quite a lot of chamber music, which is all just wonderful.

I generally agree with what's being said here, but I do ask myself whether we - as a modern audience - are that well suited to judge this piece on its own merits. We simply lack experience with this subgenre of 19th-century theatrical music, which may sound very "trashy" to our ears. Hurwitz doesn't really help, because calling something "really a symphony" provokes comparison with what is a very different world of music; there was a very good reason why Suppé didn't want to do that and it goes well beyond the arguments mentioned by Hurwitz. Having said all that and liking Suppé's Fantasia more than (apparently) most of you do I still think it's hard to make the case that it's a major re-discovery. However, I do think it's an interesting piece.

His aesthetics is peculiar from time to time. He thought Pfitzner's PC, and by extension, all of his compositions are extremely boring.

Can't say I wholly disagree there, though.

Thanks, this sounds like a really interesting set; not least because they show a very clear musical evolution. However, that might even be more illustrated if everyone didn't keep forgetting about the other symphonies. After all, Enescu wrote nine of the things. 

Now, I sort of understand the reluctance about Bentoiu's completions of the E minor (1934) and D major (1941). But the neglect of the "Study symphonies" is more difficult to fathom. The fact that they were written when in he was his teens doesn't mean they've stopped being symphonies all of a sudden; the "study symphony" ephitet to justify ignoring them is even possibly even more moronic than talking about numbers "00" and "0" (Bruckner) or just assigning random symphony numbers to orchestral things even if they're not symphonies (Mendelssohn).

Allow me to revive this ancient thread. I have found another piece that employs the same five-note motif (CCCD#C) at the start, Hendrik Waelput's Pacification of Ghent cantata of 1876:

So now there are three pieces that contain this fragment, all from the French-Belgian tradition and written in 1876 (Waelput), 1884 (Jaëll) and 1891 (Hamerik). It's awfully close to the opening of Mozart's Requiem, but slightly different. I'd be grateful if anyone would be able determine where this comes from?

In a general sense, this thread strikes home for me professionally as well. I was trained as a historian in the early nineties. At that time, sources were a rare thing, something to treasure. Many historians, myself included, developed what might be called a "hamster mentality", just collecting everything you could because you didn't know whether you'd ever get the chance again – basically turning us into professional hoarders. 
Since then, a paradigmatic shift has come about because of the digital revolution. Instead of collectors we've become curators, selecting what we need from a vast forest of possibilities. Ironically, that comes with the same fear of overlooking that crucial bit of information that you really need. As a music collector, it still pains me to throw things away as much as it does as a historian.

Perhaps it's somewhat of an over-compensation of the "great slowing down" of the twentieth century. Still, although I like a first recording of a piece to keep within conventional limits I have no problems with subsequent ones being more experimental.

I like those too, but I'm glad there are others, which seemingly show a somewhat different approach.

The thing with Mahler is that no (or hardly any)one else conducted his symphonies for a fairly long time. He was no fringe figure as a conductor, but certainly not (yet) particularly broadly known as a composer outside of a few musical centres where people were able to see his performances for themselves. The three composers that you mention all existed in the direct personal orbit of Gustav Mahler himself, and as important as that circle and Vienna as a musical capital were, it wasn't the entire musical world. Mahler's present eminence in the concert hall has exaggerated his contemporary significance.

To be honest, I'm not pessimistic about symphonies at all. About he concert hall repertory perhaps, yes, but the issue isn't so much the audiences as the moving parts necessary to get music performed. From arrogant impresarios, via soloists unwilling or unable to study new music, to marketing people that remain desperately afraid to lose their dwindling subscription audiences - but refusing to engage with a new, more opportunistically concert-going public. I've met them all and have been part of one of these groups. It is the gigantic infrastructure of classical music that is threatening to bring it all down.

Both of Franck's recorded symphones are hugely enjoyable works; what they also share is a certain, almost muscular, confidence. 

Chronologically, the A major and Bb major symphonies are Franck's Symphonies No. 4 and 5. There seem to be various dates floating around, from the late 1850s (IMSLP) to 1882/1883 (German Wikipedia), and it is not entirely clear which one was written first. For me, the A major feels the more "senior" of the two, but of course that doesn't mean much. 

There are three earlier symphonies in A minor, G minor and B major written in the 1840s and 1850s but they are listed as "verschollen" (lost). Does anyone know more about them and how "lost" they are exactly? 

Amazon.de/.nl/.fr/.es however, are not. Personally, I'd wait until JPC gets it.

Oops! I see that Amazon.de does list the CD.

It should be added that Glazunov's status in Russian concert halls is much more solid, but those performances aren't listed on Bachtrack for ... obvious reasons. I'd say his best-known works west of Kaliningrad are probably the ballet Raymonda (which has seen a surprising number of performances of late) and the Alto Saxophone Concerto (also because of the scarcity of concert repertoire for that instrument).

Years ago, I was fortunate enough to witness an absolutely scorching performance of the Glaz 5 by the Netherlands Radio SO under Alexander Lazarev, and the audience's reaction was as euphoric as the one mentioned by Martin. That experience renewed my faith in people's ability to listen past the iron repertory, and it also showed that these are not risky pieces to program.

FWIW I think there's only so much further you can take the Berlioz-Liszt-Mahler conception of the symphony. There's probably a lot more life left in something rather more modest, but just as effective. I know which I favour...

That is why I think the efforts of composers such as Woyrsch, Larsson, Gram and others to get out of the corner Mahler c.s. painted themselves into by moving to smaller forms are so fascinating. The post-Mahlerian popularity of forms like the Sinfonia Brevis and Kammersinfonie might express the same desire.

All good points. I was mostly considering Mahler's influence on his direct contemporaries, to be honest; a few decades later it was obviously greater. 

Not sure about Sibelius, either. His introduction into the Germanic performance canon is a fairly recent one, if memory serves – his music was certainly more popular in the UK for a long time.

In a different thread, Maury and I were discussing Mahler's contemporary influence, which he rated higher than I did. After some further digging I think I was in the wrong in at least one aspect: the symphony for solo voice (usually soprano) and orchestra - i.e., a symphony with an orchestral song inserted for just one voice in the finale. I know of no examples before Mahler's Fourth in G major (1901), but have counted no fewer than five in the years afterwards: by Hans Huber (4th, "Heroische" in C minor, 1902), Mathilde Kralik von Meyerswalden ("Hymnische" in F minor, 1904*), Jan van Gilse (3rd, "Erhebung" in D major, 1903) and Rued Langgaard (2nd, "Vaarbrud" in A minor, 1914). That can't be a coincidence. Peter Gram's 2nd symphony of 1927 could also be mentioned, but it's quite a bit later, and the song is used in the penultimate movement, not the finale.

Interestingly, of these really only Van Gilse's sounds somewhat Mahler-esque at some points, and it is also the only one to share a major key. The rest appear to have used the form (orchestral song by soprano as movement or part of movement(s)) but not so much its musical content. I am not entirely certain what that means for my hypothesis about Mahler's rather limited influence, but I am reminded of a possible parallel in popular music: David Bowie. A hugely successful artist, but arguably more influential in issues of form and presentation than in the music itself.

All this to lead up to my question: can you think of other examples of this setup, possible even ones predating Mahler? I have been looking, but came up short. There are several for voice and chorus

*From Kralik's great-grandson I understood that the symphony's fourth movement was probably not completed before 1943, but it was conceived as containing an orchestral song from the beginning in 1904).