# Gossec’s Symphonies: Germanic Form in Gallic Dress
François-Joseph Gossec: Four Symphonies
Symphony in C, Brook 85; Symphony No. 1 in B-flat, Brook 81; Symphony in C “Sinfonia periodique a piu strumenti,” Brook 87; Symphony in D “La caccia,” Brook 62
Orchestra de Bretagne/Stefan Sanderling
ASV CD DCA 1123 [66:03]
François-Joseph Gossec lived to ninety-five—long enough to witness the entire trajectory of the symphony from its galant origins through Haydn and Mozart to early Beethoven. He died in 1829, two years after Beethoven himself, having outlived nearly everyone who mattered in the Classical period. Yet despite this remarkable longevity and his position as France’s leading instrumental composer of the latter eighteenth century, Gossec remains a figure more cited than heard, more respected than loved.
These four symphonies, culled from the fifty-odd he composed (mostly between 1756 and 1778), make a persuasive if not entirely compelling case for reassessment. The problem—and it’s hardly unique to Gossec—is that competence, even considerable skill, doesn’t necessarily translate into music that demands repeated hearings. Ates Orga’s exceptionally informative notes make this point inadvertently: his bravura analysis, mixing biographical flair with musical delineation, serves ironically to expose what the music itself sometimes lacks in sustained invention.
Take the Symphony in C, Brook 85. It opens with genuine rhetorical grandeur, the kind of declamatory gesture that announces serious symphonic intentions. But the subsequent movements retreat into merely pleasant territory—attractive, certainly, but lacking the kind of distinction necessary to lift them beyond the diverting. One admires the craft without feeling particularly moved by it.
The Symphony No. 1 in B-flat fares somewhat better. The Larghetto Siciliana offers a flowing Italianate melody over thrummed pizzicato that achieves genuine poignancy, though again the movement doesn’t quite know what to do with its own best ideas. This is music that gestures toward profundity without fully committing to the journey.
But the Symphony in C, Brook 87—the “Sinfonia periodique a piu strumenti“—is another matter entirely. Here Gossec shows what he could achieve when inspiration matched mastery. The gallant-style brio of the opening "Allegro" has real snap, and the Minuetto’s thinning to single voices shows imaginative orchestral thinking. The "Presto" "finale", with its Mannheim crescendos and rustic drones, is downright clever—this is symphonic writing worthy to stand beside J.C. Bach, which is no faint praise. The movement has genuine wit, that quality of musical intelligence that transcends mere facility.
Throughout these works, one hears the fusion—or perhaps collision—of influences: Italianate lyricism, Mannheim orchestral effects, Germanic formal procedures. It’s difficult to describe the result as discernibly French, though perhaps that’s asking the wrong question. Gossec was working in an international style, and the fact that his music doesn’t announce its nationality may be a feature rather than a bug.
Stefan Sanderling and the Orchestre de Bretagne prove more than merely affectionate proselytizers. This is a small ensemble—lean strings, period-appropriate winds—and they play with expressive point and rhythmic spring. The recorded sound from Rennes captures the hall’s resonance without blurring inner voices. Sanderling understands that these symphonies live or die by their sense of forward motion; he keeps things moving without rushing, finds elegance without preciosity.
Matthias Bamert and the London Mozart Players have recorded other Gossec symphonies for Chandos, with no overlap. I haven’t heard those performances, but on the evidence here, Sanderling’s interpretations would be hard to better. He brings out the music’s wit and charm while not overselling its profundity.
The essential question remains: does this music reward the investment of time and attention? The answer is qualified. Three of these four symphonies are pleasant examples of their type—well-crafted, occasionally inspired, but ultimately decorative rather than essential. The Symphony in C, Brook 87, however, is the real thing: a work of genuine character and accomplishment that deserves a place in the repertoire alongside the symphonies of J.C. Bach, Stamitz, and the young Haydn.
Recommended, then, particularly for that one symphony. And perhaps that’s enough—one genuine discovery amid three competent but less distinctive companions. In an era when we’re constantly being told that the canon needs expanding, it’s worth remembering that not everything that’s been forgotten deserves resurrection. But some things do, and Gossec’s best work—as represented by that Symphony in C—certainly qualifies.
