Here is a glittering centenary tribute to Cuba’s King of Charmers. Shuttling effortlessly between Carnegie Hall, the Sid Caesar and Ed Sullivan shows, Ernest Lecuona (1896-1963) had little use for conventional musical divisions and simultaneously bewitched Ravel (who thought “Malaguena”– from Andalucia – infinitely more fascinating than his own Bolero) and Tinsel Town. Happy to compose on cocktail napkins or playing cards while conversing with friends, Lecuona lived essentially for the brilliant moment, and would have been amused to find himself immortalized by such favourites as The Breeze and I, “Andaluza” from Andalucia, Suite espanola or Canto Siboney. Not surprisingly Lecuona paid a price for his occasional ‘cult of vacuity’ or such dazzling fluency and precocity. And even if you have a taste for sugar and spice – not always offered in equal proportions – you will have to search hard for ingredients of real worth. There is much that is trite rather than endearing, yet “Malaguena” remains as catchy as on the day it was written, and who could resist “Cordoba” from the same suite, its rising and cascading line made so much more eventful by Tirino than by Leonard Pennario on his long-deleted suave and stylish LP (Capitol, 7/58). “Alhambra”, too, whirls a conventional idea into ingenious and hectic life, and only puritans or musical Malvolios will turn away from “Preludio en la Noche” or a habanera to end all habaneras. The “Mazurka en Glissando” is strictly for those who think such slides are an underexploited trick of the trade, but I have a soft spot for “Noche Azul”, a romantic undulation played with a special feel for its starlit charisma.
The Danzas Afro-Cubanas are an alternatively teasing and tumultuous success. “La Conga de Media Noche” provides an instant solution for those in search of that ultimate encore, for those anxious to take their audience by stealth and storm. “Y la Negra Bailaba” and “Danza de los Nanigos” (recorded in the early days of LP, though never available in the UK, by Jorge Bolet, who remembered his Cuban origins and even allowed a ghost of a smile to cross his normally saturnine features) are two other winners and so, too, is Mientras yo comia maullaba un gato, where a Cuban society hostess’s cat capers and miaows in the feline equivalent of a jam session. The Dolls cavort and jitterbug to good effect in “The dolls have a party” from Diario de un nino, and there are many sly winks and nudges for attention in the Chrysanthemum Waltz; one of several dances composed “for the ladies”.
The works for piano and orchestra have all the obligatory ingredients, luscious if oddly unmemorable tunes, a sexy ache, and sudden bursts of volubility to offset all possible lethargy or indifference. But here not even Tirino’s authentic completions of some oddly incomplete scores or his expert partner’s playing could fully convince me that I was listening to a ‘Cuban Gershwin’.
However, the performances are irreproachable and BIS’s presentation and recording are vivid and enthralling. Thomas Tirino’s cut-glass virtuosity (listen to him in the central octave play of “Y la Negra Bailaba”) and wickedly seductive charm are formidable, and his notes are tirelessly enthusiastic and informative. For good measure, BIS have supplied a photograph taken in 1931 of Lecuona with Buster Keaton, and these three CDs include many world premiere recordings.'