The idea for this recording took shape following a concert the Ludwig Orchestra gave in Birmingham when Peppie Wiersma, the Dutch chamber orchestra’s artistic director, wandered into a club crackling with the energy of a crowd ballroom dancing. This led to the Ludwig putting together their own eclectic programme of dance music to inspire their audiences to take to the floor for some fancy footwork.

If you’re familiar with the Ludwig Orchestra’s two previous recordings – ‘Crazy Girl Crazy’ (10/17) and ‘La Passione’ (5/20) – you know to expect the unexpected. Thus Kurt Weill’s sublime tango-habanera ‘Youkali’ bumps up against Barry Manilow’s 1978 hit ‘Copacabana’ (a juxtaposition that’s less than flattering to Manilow’s song-writing prowess), which is followed by the sublime vaudevillian silliness of George Hamilton Green’s ‘Fluffy Ruffles’. Hannigan is featured in four numbers, including the Weill and the Green, which allow her to show her spectacular range in a wide stylistic spectrum of popular song.

She captures the longing for paradise lost in ‘Youkali’ – and listen around 3'20", where her phrasing elegantly binds verse and chorus together. Her sexy smirk in ‘Fluffy Ruffles’ seems to channel Fanny Brice through Barbra Streisand, and surely the purity and charming sweetness she brings to ‘I could have danced all night’ is a nod to Julie Andrews. Most surprising of all, though, is the emotional intensity to Glenn Miller’s signature tune, Moonlight Serenade. Miller’s original is coolly atmospheric, a swaying nocturne in black and white; Hannigan gives it to us in portamento-laden Technicolor, as if the song were a matter of love or death.

The tautness of the Ludwig Orchestra’s playing – augmented in four dances by the Berlage Saxophone Quartet – echoes that of the best bands of the big band era, and the arrangements are not only effective but cleverly detailed. I love the dark swells and accents in the strings in the intro to Pablo Beltrán Ruiz’s ‘Quien sera’, the neon brightness of the woodwinds’ accompanimental figures in Xavier Cugat’s ‘My Shawl’ and the subtle harmonic twists Bill Elliott adds to In the Mood, another Miller favourite.

I’m especially curious to know how audiences/dancers react to Elgar’s Salut d’amour, the closing number, as it’s not what comes to mind when I think of a slow dance, which is how it’s categorised here. Heard in this context, however, Elgar’s chaste romance might not be quite as chaste as I’d previously thought. If you’re in need of some serious fun – and who isn’t these days – ‘Dance with Me’ may just sweep you off your feet.