Coward

The Noel Coward Songbook. Ian Bostridge, tenor; Jeffrey Tate, pianist. (EMI Classics 5 57374)

English tenor Ian Bostridge has emerged in the past few years as an unusually insightful interpreter of art songs. His exceptional taste, imagination and attention to diction and the myriad nuances of a text (of a single word, for that matter) put him in the forefront of today's vocal artists. Other tenors can produce warmer, richer tones, to be sure, but few can penetrate a song as memorably and movingly.

Do these gifts, so unmistakable in the realm of German lieder, make Bostridge a natural for crossing over into the urbane musical world of Noel Coward? Some folks, including some of the tenor's own countrymen, have said no. Bostridge has been charged with singing Coward's sophisticated, unconventional tunes in an overly serious, mannered fashion. Given Coward's own definitive recordings of his songs, any vocalist has an awful lot to measure up to; it's impossble to out-Noel Noel. But, on its own terms, Bostridge's survey of the Coward songbook has much to recommend it.

Not surprisingly, this unusually refined singer approaches the material with the same respect - even reverence - that he accords the classical composers. Maybe he does sound a little prim and careful at times, but there's still plenty of charm at work. And the clarity of diction the tenor offers cannot be praised enough; every word is easily savored. And what words they are. Among songwriters, Coward's verbal playfulness has only been matched (sometimes surpassed) by Cole Porter. It's always worthwhile being in the presence of such wit and imagination.

Not surprisingly, Bostridge is at his most beguiling in the ballads, such as "If You Could Only Come With Me," "The Dream Is Over" (with a gorgeously spun-out closing line) and "Let's Say Goodbye." The tenor is joined to charming effect by soprano Sophie Daneman in a few items; they have good fun with the banter in "A Room With a View" and effectively conjure up the mood of impossible love in "Someday I'll Find You."

Jeffrey Tate provides thoroughly elegant styling at the keyboard. Corin Buckeridge did the fine arrangements.

***

Schubert

Schubert: Piano Sonata in A major, D. 959; four lieder. Leif Ove Andsnes, pianist; Ian Bostridge, tenor. (EMI Classics 5 57266).

Schubert lived only a year longer than Beethoven, but he and his music largely belonged to another age. Schubert's late piano sonatas make this clear. They may owe much to Beethoven, not to mention Mozart, but the breadth of ideas and emotions, the sheer dimensions of these works place them squarely into the Romantic mold. The schizoid second movement of the A major Sonata, D. 959, is a case in point; the way Schubert interrupts a tranquil flow of lyrical beauty with ferocious outbursts and disjointed thoughts provides an internal drama that still startles. The lyrical elegance and propulsive yearning in the finale is likewise gripping.

Leif Ove Andsnes performs the sonata with a splendid technique and the instincts of a poet; in his hand, the long score never loses its underlying pulse. This is a powerfully atmospheric performance that achieves its effects without exaggeration. The touch of poignancy the pianist gives to the Andantino movement and the touch of whimsy to the Scherzo are among the insightful details.

Four Schubert lieder - including Pilgerweise, which has a thematic link to the sonata - fill out the disc and are sung with typical artistry by tenor Ian Bostridge, eloquently accompanied by Andsnes. The bleak world of Auf dem Strom is very movingly conjured; the superb support of horn player Timothy Brown adds to the rewards in that song. The rapport between Andsnes and Bostridge reaches particular heights in Die Sterne; their subtle phasing in the second verse is exquisite.

****

Beethoven

Beethoven: Violin Concerto in D major, Romance in G major, Romance in F major. Anne-Sophie Mutter, violinist; New York Philharmonic; Kurt Masur. (Deutsche Grammophon 289 471 349)

Another recording of Beethoven's Violin Concerto? Is there really any need for one more? You bet. After all, when Anne-Sophie Mutter gets hold of music, it can be completely transformed into a brand new experience, which is exactly what happens here. You could claw through a mountain of recordings of this concerto without uncovering a more inventive and involving performance.

Mutter gets an astonishing variety of colors and moods from her fiddle, making it sing, sigh, purr and pull. Unlike many a violinist, she freely alters vibrato, even within a short phrase; she doesn't hesitate to dispense with it altogether to produce an arresting tone, a new shade. She is just as free with tempos. In the first movement, for example, she takes some daringly slow turns that, in lesser hands, would completely destroy the flow of the music; she makes each hesitation speak volumes.

With Mutter, it's all about communicating, not showing off. Note the incredible drama she makes out of the first movement cadenza (the traditional one written by Fritz Kreisler). Full of marvelous sounds and new-found points of emphasis, it has never sounded more organically connected to the rest of the movement.

The violinist's brilliant artistry finds a fully sympathetic partner in Kurt Masur, who has the New York Philharmonic playing at the top of its game in this live performance.

****

Excellent ****; Good ***; Fair **; Poor *