Lost in the Stars: The Music of Kurt Weill

by

Various Artists

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Nearly every track on this CD (which includes material left off the original 1985 release) is a gem -- even if some are slightly more precious than others.

Sting's take on "Moritat/Mack the Knife" is deliberately low-key and affectless, a lovely antidote (at the time, and even now) to the jokey, albeit entertaining big-band renderings of Louis Armstrong and Bobby Darin.

Lou Reed's "September Song" is an utter delight, as the personification of late 20th-century underworld New York does this set piece from *Knickerbocker Holiday*. Reed's instrumentation echoes John Lennon's last recordings (like the ironically titled "Starting Over") and adds some Stax-Volt-style horns, while his wonderfully world-weary delivery of Maxwell Anderson's cynical *and* sentimental lyrics steals the show.

Other great vocal performances are contributed by Stanard Ridgway from Wall of Voodoo, Richard Butler of the Psychedelic Furs (a splendid "Alabama Song/Whiskey Bar"), Marianne Faithful, Tom Waits, Aaron Neville, and a heart-breaking turn by Dagmar Krause on Weill's perfect subversion of the torch song, "Surabaya Johnny."

Fine arrangements are supplied by members of the Armadillo String Quartet, who ably explore the minor-key sonorities of the "Youkali Tango"; by Van Dyke Parks, whose music-box renderings of selections from "Johnny Johnson" are both oddly fitting and oddly moving; by John Zorn, who applies his distinctive search-and-destroy, acid jazz approach to "The Little Lieutenant of the Loving God"; by Carla Bley, who lets Phil Woods blow incandescent alto sax on the title track; and by Sharon Freeman, who provides an admirable -- both witty and heartfelt -- showcase for Charlie Haden on lead bass for "Speak Low."

I have to confess that Todd Rundgren's version of Macheath's "Call from the Grave" (from *The Threepenny Opera*) disappointed me at first hearing and still does, nearly two decades later: he did this kind of hard rock translation much better with Gilbert and Sullivan's "The Lord Chancellor's Nightmare Song" on one of his own albums and recycles here many of the same techniques and effects. It's still fun, but doesn't supply the punch one expects at this late stage of the proceedings.

I don't know whether Weill would "approve" of all these interpretations, but I think his own eclectic sensibilities -- and his embrace of a wide range of popular and mass-market musical forms -- receive fitting tribute on this CD. One minor cavil: the liner notes could be a little more informative about these recordings. One major plaudit: it's magnificent to have these songs well-engineered in CD format; my 1980s-era cassette had been played to death.