Raymond Scott is best known as the composer of famous tunes that pop up throughout Warner Bros cartoons. In the late 'Thirties, his celebrated Raymond Scott Quintette was a huge commercial success, a singular ensemble playing a unique and unmistakable style of jazz, full of whimsy and bravura. By the late 'Forties, he had become an electronic music pioneer, both as an instrument inventor and composer. His music is everywhere these days, not just cartoons. For example, Lizzo's recent hit 'Tempo' samples (sips from?) his 'Nescafe,' and he is heard in the recent Netflix hit show Hollywood. The lost chapter between the Quintette and his electronic music was every bit as compelling, starting with the first multiracial radio big band, the 'CBS Big Band'whose ranks included legends Ben Webster, Cozy Cole, and Charlie Shavers. Not only did this unit swing hard, they could also execute the intricate passages for which he was so famous. Hemidemisemiquaver: Buried Treasures of the Raymond Scott Big Band collects 26 exciting cuts, mostly unreleased radio broadcasts recorded by Scott himself and restored by Gavin Ross at Steady Studio in Burbank, CA.
This is a great example of the "old school" of English oratorio performance. Actually, it's not that "old" because although it uses modern instruments, Raymond Leppard is as fully informed about Baroque performance practice as any period instrument guy. Beyond that, he has a stunning line-up of soloists, lead by Dame Janet Baker, who sing their roles with appropriately operatic fervor.
The performance here of Samson is definitive. It is lively, colourful and highly dramatic. There is no comparison with the tedious performance by the Sixteen on Coro. The performance of the Messiah with limited modern instrumental forces of the English Chamber Orchestra and Chorus with very good soloists doesn't sacrifice grandeur nor does it go to the other extreme of over-blown pomp. It is a very good performamce on modern instruments under the direction of the Baroque music specialist conductor Raymond Leppard.
The New Colony Six started out as one of the better garage bands to come out of the Midwest in the mid-'60s, playing tough British Invasion-style rock & roll (their "At the River's Edge" made it onto the Nuggets box set), and they later evolved into a surprisingly sophisticated and skillful pop group that scored nationwide hits with the singles "Love You So Much" and "Things I'd Like to Say." However, this collection of odds and ends doesn't quite play to either side of the band's personality; in fact, most of the 24 songs aren't actually by the New Colony Six, with 11 tunes by the Raymond John Michael Band (which featured three NC6 alumni, singer Ray Graffia, drummer Chick James, and keyboard man Craig Kemp) and one each by Junior and Graffia, both latter-day Ray Graffia projects…
Froggatt's debut album was a bland singer/songwriter effort, mixing in parts of troubadour folk and late-'60s middle-of-the-road British pop/rock. At times, particularly on some of the more bittersweet tunes, it's a little reminiscent of the softer aspects of the early Bee Gees (check "Lonely Old World" for a dose of that). Some of the more hale pop-folk-rock cuts might vaguely bring Donovan's more mainstream work to mind, although Donovan was miles better. Occasional tracks like the traditional "Corinna Corrina" and the guitar instrumental "Sonnet by Hartley Cain" tread close to contemporary folk. But others deploy hokily dated and at times unbearably cutesy orchestration, such as "Red Balloon (Callow-La-Vita)" (covered for a British hit by the Dave Clark Five) and the oompah-horn-laden "Roly." It's a peculiar endeavor that seems unsure of whether to aim for a frivolous pop audience or a more serious folky one, but the lack of focus is less of a problem than the mediocrity of the music. [The 2004 CD reissue on Repertoire adds a dozen bonus tracks from 1968-1969 singles, though three of these are just the single mixes of songs from the album.]
Francesco Cavalli's ''L'Ormindo'' is not the oldest opera in existence - in fact, Monteverdi was already dead when it was first produced in Venice in 1644. Still, this 338-year-old work stands far enough from us in the operatic distance to make any production of it an automatically controversial event. As with all works of opera's early decades, ''L'Ormindo'' is in many respects a blank page, on which modern producers are free to write, or perhaps scribble. Cavalli's score, for instance, gives few hints as to orchestration: history tells us that opera orchestras in the early 17th century were pretty much made up of whatever instruments happened to be at hand.