Finding ever-new ways
to recycle Copland material is something
Sony is expert at doing and no complaints
from me on that score. Following relatively
hard on the heels of their three CD
sets comes this Essential Classic which
features old friends – another welcome
case of old wine, new bottle. Not that
everything is vintage of course: just
what was Ormandy thinking when he set
down this peculiar Fanfare for the Common
Man, a recording which induces the words
"portentous" and "fast
asleep." But then we get right
down to it. Does anyone not like
Louis Lane’s perky, fresh air and powerful
Rodeo? He shows us how to judge an orchestral
pause to perfection in Buckaroo Holiday
and the Cleveland Pops’ trombonist knows
just how to get down with the best of
them. The folk fiddles warm up at the
start of Saturday Night Waltz
and the Hoe-Down is full of the
warmest and most idiomatic verve.
More panache and momentum
comes in the shape of An Outdoor Overture,
a bustly, bright, avuncular and entirely
captivating piece performed with an
equal measure of conviction by the Pops
orchestra. The 1948 Red Pony suite is
performed by the St Louis Symphony and
André Previn in a recording made
forty years ago. If anything this receives
one of the most searching, cleverly
paced and sensitively played performances
on the disc. Morning on the Ranch
reaches an exultant and wonderfully
judged fresh-aired climax whilst the
Dream March takes on a bit of
expressionist chill. The later movements
of this seven-movement suite are illumined
by some gorgeous string playing, full
of affectionate elegance and by Previn’s
sure sense of form, colour and also,
importantly, drive. I know that the
Lincoln Portrait takes a regular pasting,
and this particular recording of it
hasn’t escaped censure, but Ormandy
redeems himself here and Adlai Stevenson
reads it senatorially straight, if obviously
not in the same acoustic.
If over the years you’ve
missed any of these attractive readings
– barring Fanfare – here’s a fine and
inexpensive way of adding them to your
doubtless overburdened shelves.
Jonathan Woolf