AISLE SAY

OSCAR & STEVE

Mandy Patinkin sings the songs of
Oscar Hammerstein II and Stephen Sondheim
  • Nonesuch 79392-2
  • Produced by John McLure

    Reviewed by Jameson Baker

    Review Copyright (c) 1995 by TheatreNet Enterprises
    There's no easy discussion of what Mandy Patinkin brings to the table in a solo album or a concert. He is a complicated creature and chooses not to dilute his industrial strength intensity. In equal measures, he can awe you, touch you and piss you off. Similarly, his performances shift from self-absorbed to over-the-top to subtle-and-artful to humanist-and-generous. So it seems fitting that for his latest solo album, "Oscar & Steve" he would wish to make contradictions and contrasts the very point. In this one he showcases themes as differently realized by the "cockeyed optimism" of lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II and by the much darker cynicism of Hammerstein's protege, composer-lyricist Stephen Sondheim.

    The experience of the album begins even before you insert it in the CD player. For it comes in a slipcover. The photo on it is a medium close-up of Mr. Patinkin, sitting alone in a theatre orchestra of red velvet seats, elbows on armrests, hands locked together and cocked upwards, index fingers against his lips: looking off left, thoughtful. Remove the jewel box from its slipcase and the picture on its booklet cover is quite different. The fingers are now against his chin, and his gaze is directed right at you, and he is smiling pleasantly. The first photo probably a subtle homage to the Sondheim sensibility. The second ... well, you get the idea ...

    In some ways, "Oscar & Steve" is the most conservative of Patinkin's four solo albums (the others being "Mandy Patinkin" and "Dress Casual" on the Columbia label, and "Experiment" on Nonesuch), because he seems less involved in self exploration than in exploring dynamic interplay between two writers -- so that even at his most outrageous here, he still plays it very straight. This may also be a function of the fact that he has made it to album number four, that he has less to prove -- to himself and to us ... and perhaps, subsequently, he trusts us a little more.

    So, straight as she goes, then, the album is hugely satisfying, as Mr. Patinkin wistfully croons the charming "I Have the Room Above" from "Show Boat", in which he sighingly wonders, "Sitting in her room below/How can she know I love her so" ... and then insinuates himself into the haunting obsessiveness of "Loving You" from "Passion" in which he insists, "Loving you is not a choice... "

    There are other black and white contrasts -- back to back renditions of "You've Got to Be Carefully Taught" and "Children Will Listen" or "Honey Bun" and "Not a Day Goes By". But there are solo turns in which Patinkin cuts loose a bit, such as "Beat out dat Rhythm on a Drum" from "Carmen Jones". (This too, is followed by an arguable companion piece, "There Won't Be Trumpets" from "Anyone Can Whistle" -- but that connection is tenuous at best.)

    As he has before, Patinkin makes generous use of two guest vocalists, Michael Yukon Grody joining him in "Poems" from "Pacific Overtures" and a fantastic performance by the ubiquitous Judy Blazer, as his counterpart in "Pleasant Little Kingdom/Too Many Mornings" from "Follies."

    The orchestrations include exciting new arrangements by Glen Daum, Don Sebesky, Glen Osser and Doug Besterman as well as a few Jonathan Tunick originals barely altered from what was played in the Broadway pit. The musical direction of Eric Stern is, as always, top notch, and one suspects that Patinkin's longtime collaborator, accompanist Paul Ford, had more than an editor's hand in helping to shape the album.

    Whether or not the listener considers the album a triumph depends largely upon the feelings Mr. Patinkin evokes. Which, as I say, can be furious, layered and complicated. But as always, he doesn't mind dancing on the ledge with dangerous material (I used to think this was courage on his part; now I just think it's who he is -- if courage is involved, it's a reflex, not a decision) ... and, as always, the listener gets his money's worth. And then some.

    And in this case, so do Oscar and Steve.

    Jameson Baker is a free-lance theatre journalist. He has written CD liner notes and articles for several magazines and newspapers, among them Vanity Fair.

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