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Cross-over albums are fraught. So many artists specialising in the classics come to grief crossing over to popular fare especially show music. So often their customary, more solemn style of singing crushes the spontaneity and joie-de-vivre of lighter music. Ian Bostridge not only has to overcome the perils of crossing this divide but also of battling against the formidable, one might also say indelible image of Noël Coward singing these, his own creations although the master’s distinctive way of delivering these clever songs should not be considered as exclusive.

Corin Buckeridge’s arrangements clearly have Bostridge’s voice and range in mind. Except for an occasional self-conscious attempt at too-close-a-Coward emulation as in ‘World Weary’ and ‘Mad Dogs and Englishmen’, they work well. There are disappointments - Buckeridge’s ‘Dance Little Lady’, for example, tends to be too rushed for comfort. Bostridge weaves his way through the intricacies of Coward’s frequent rhythm and tempi fluctuations and his mastery of those quick tongue-tripping lyrics like "Imagination is a form of flagellation, If a sensitive child lets it run wild…" from ‘Mary Make-Believe’ is most impressive. Bostridge’s enunciation is spot on and he delivers all the songs in this compilation with pleasing expressiveness and his accentuations, just short of extravagance, would surely have pleased the master.

Sophie Daneman is an attractive soprano partner, singing well in the spirit of Coward, in ‘A Room with a View’, ‘I’ll See You Again’ and ‘Someday I’ll Find You’ although sometimes the two voices are not in ideal balance. Away from the podium Jeffrey Tate provides an eloquent and often witty accompaniment.

In such a compilation there are bound to be disappointing omissions. For instance, I was disappointed not to hear ‘If Love Were All’ from Bitter Sweet.

A brave attempt at delivering some favourite Coward songs in a (slightly) different style. It is difficult to imagine this recording appealing to older listeners holding so many fond memories of Noël’s inimitable manner, so full of calculated ennui. I imagine that the legions of Bostridge fans will be more intrigued, than fully won over.

Ian Lace

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