There is no shortage
of Anderson compilations at the moment
and the inquisitive can search out Frederick
Fennell’s classic recordings and augment
them with the Naxos
set conducted by Richard Hayman
or the fine RCA Slatkin/St Louis selection.
Or indeed this latest entrant into the
stakes, with Paul Mann conducting the
Melbourne Symphony in newly minted performances
containing a raft of favourites but
temptingly adding a bit of ballast in
the shape of the Piano Concerto.
Versatile and colourful
orchestrator that he was there is seldom
a drop in piquancy or ear-catching delight
in the 70 odd minutes. So, yes, we get
the clatter of typewriter in the first
track and those naughty string glissandi
to mimic the cat’s waltzing miaow. Big
on playful pizzicati (a trait he shared
with ace British-born, American-resident
orchestrator and arranger David Rose)
he animates Fiddle-Faddle with
them a-plenty, before adding some big
band jazz, triple-tonguing trumpets,
and a modicum of hokum. His ingenuity
can best be seen in Horse and Buggy,
which has the luscious warmth of the
Great American Songbook in its middle
section. And he has the polished versatility
to turn Belle of the Ball with
ante-bellum ease. ABC’s compiler obviously
has a wry sense of humour – sticking
the raucous The Irish Washerwoman
next to the maudlin The Last
Rose of Summer does indeed have
a kind of internal, emotional logic
as the latter sobs its way, Mischa Elman-style,
to its tear-stained conclusion.
Who did the Piston
and Enescu-educated Anderson listen
to? Try Gershwin in the Blue Tango
and then indulge yourself in his
big hits such as Sleigh Ride and
Plink. Plank, Plunk! For
greater depth the Concerto has a snappy,
jazzy neo-classical stamp that hits
on the Alec Templeton Bach Goes To
Town, Jazz-meets-the-Classics vernacular.
That fuguing drive is augmented by Rachmaninov
and stentorian Tchaikovskian moments
and an admixture of Francophile lightness
and clarity – an attractive if not overly
stunning brew. But he spins a gorgeously
lyrical line in the slow movement, winningly
fluent and further on some dancing vernacular
with a strong cantilever of vocalised
melody.
The performances are
warm and sympathetic and the notes good.
I’d not really thought of Anderson as
the Norman Rockwell of 1950s American
music, as the notes suggest – I’ll have
to go and have a look.
Jonathan Woolf
Simon Tedeschi (piano) *