George GERSHWIN (1898–1937)
Concerto in F (1925) (New Critical Edition) [30:17]
John HARBISON (b. 1938)
Remembering Gatsby
(Foxtrot for Orchestra) (1985) [6:38]
Walter PISTON (1894–1976)
Symphony No. 5 (1954) [22:08]
John TOWER (b. 1938)
Sequoia
(1981) [16:12]
Kevin Cole (piano)
National Orchestral Institute Philharmonic/David Alan Miller
rec. 2019, Elsie & Marvin Dekelboum
Concert Hall, The Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center,
College Park, Maryland, USA
Reviewed as a 16-bit download
Pdf booklet included
NAXOS AMERICAN CLASSICS 8.559875
[74:59]
I first encountered conductor David Alan Miller and this ad hoc
orchestra in a thoroughly entertaining collection of pieces by Carl Ruggles,
Steven Stucky and John Harbison (Naxos). American music is their forte, and it shows in their sure sense of
style. Also, Miller has a knack for compiling programmes that celebrate the
diversity and strength of such repertoire.
Unusually, perhaps, I came to Gershwin’s Concerto in F by way of a witty
sequence in Vincente Minnelli’s iconic musical, An American in Paris (1951). In it, an aspiring concert pianist
- portrayed by the real-life pianist Oscar Levant - imagines himself
conducting and playing various instruments in that fabulous finale. As it
happens, my go-to account of the concerto stars André Previn, who spent
much of his early career in Hollywood. That high-octane performance, in
which Previn serves as soloist and conductor, was recorded with
the LSO in 1971 (EMI-Warner). Like that musical, its all-Gershwin programme
is a genuine classic. My other comparatives here are: from 2011, Freddy
Kempf, with the Bergen Philharmonic under Andrew Litton (BIS); and, caught
live in 2017, Kirill Gerstein, David Robertson and the St. Louis SO
(Myrios).
In fact, none of those recordings is strictly comparable to this Naxos one,
which is the first to use the New Critical Edition of the score. As Thomas
Freeze points out in his very useful liner-note, the concerto - a Walter
Damrosch commission - was unlike anything Gershwin had attempted before, so
it’s hardly surprising the original manuscripts lacked expressive
indications and tempo markings. To complicate matters, various editors had
tried to make sense of the many tweaks and annotations the composer added
over the years. Now we have this definitive new edition, the result of
painstaking research, that takes us right back to the score as the composer
himself performed it. As for Kevin Cole, the soloist here, he has a
longstanding interest and involvement in the music of George and Ira
Gershwin.
Anyone familiar with the concerto will be intrigued by the changes wrought,
cued examples of which may be found in the booklet. Aided and abetted by
Phil Rowlands’ detailed and very well balanced recording, Cole and Miller
deliver a wonderfully lucid performance, rhythmically discreet yet bursting
with joie de vivre. The orchestral playing is first rate
too, the woodwinds - so naturally rendered - sounding quite magical in the
central movement, marked Lento. Goodness, how eloquent, how musical, Cole is here. And while the finale isn’t as unbridled as
some, it’s very much in keeping with the rest of this perfectly judged
performance. As for that famous tam-tam stroke - a highlight of Levant’s
fantasy concert - it’s both tastefully and thrillingly done.
I’ve no doubt this performance is an important addition to the Gershwin
discography. Indeed, in many ways, it sets new standards for this
oft-played piece. Kempf/Litton is broadly comparable in terms of scale and
execution, the Lento especially limpid, but any sign of restraint
is overshadowed by a spectacular, undeniably exciting finale. As good as
that version is - it’s also very well recorded - I have to say Cole/Miller
seems more satisfying overall; even the Naxos engineering is up there with
the best. Still, I wouldn’t want to be without Previn; nor could I part
with Gerstein, whose Lento is the loveliest of the lot. Elsewhere,
his fusion of impulse and intellect generates enough electricity to power a
small city. A million miles from Cole/Miller, it’s true, but not to be
missed. The fillers, including a piece by Levant, are pretty good as well.
Staying with the Roaring Twenties, we have John Harbison’s Remembering Gatsby (Foxtrot for Orchestra), derived from sketches
for an opera - eventually realised - based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic
novel of the period. Commissioned by Robert Shaw, this compact little piece
gets the big-band treatment here. Highly dramatic and rhythmically alert,
it also shows how polished and versatile this ensemble really is. Joan
Tower’s Sequoia, a commission from the American Composers
Orchestra, was her first orchestral piece. I much admired DNA,
included in American Music for Percussion Vol. 1 (Naxos). With its formidable array of percussion instruments, Sequoia
packs quite a punch. But it’s rather more than that, displaying as it does
real imagination and a sure sense of structure. Besides, I can’t see it
being better played or more spectacularly recorded than it is here.
I suspect fans of Walter Piston’s eight symphonies will be familiar with
the not-quite-complete Delos/Naxos traversal, nearly all of which features
Gerard Schwarz and the Seattle SO. This Miller/NOIP account of No. 5 plugs
a gap in the series, with No. 8 still to come. There are much earlier
recordings of Nos. 5, 7 and 8 on First Edition; as Rob Barnett noted in his
2005
review,
the performances are good but the sound is somewhat variable. Collectors in
search of a rather special account of No. 6 should hear the superbly played
and engineered recording with Lance Friedel and the LSO (BIS). That album also includes symphonies by two other American composers,
Samuel Jones and Stephen Albert, both of whom should be better known.
Back to the present, and the Miller/NOIP Piston Fifth upholds the high
standards set in this varied programme. For those who don’t know the
symphony, it’s in three concise movements with a glorious harp-drenched
opener. Flashes of Copland, perhaps, but otherwise Piston is very much his
own man. As ever, Miller’s direction is firm yet affectionate, his players
utterly focused throughout. Also, the soundstage is wide and deep, with
timbres particularly well caught. (Just listen to the dark pizzicato figures at the beginning of the middle movement.)
There’s a hint of gnarliness at times, but really this is a very accessible
piece.
Indeed, it culminates in a cheerful finale, the playing as jaunty as one
could wish. The interesting notes for this, as well as the Harbison and
Tower pieces, are by Frank K. DeWald.
Recordings of 20th-century Americana don’t come much better than this; a
welcome addition to this most stimulating series.
Dan Morgan
