Jason Victor Serinus

That's the question raised by Antheil: Orchestral Works (Chandos 10982), the latest anthology of symphonic music by composer/pianist George Antheil (1900–1959). This second Antheil title from John Storgårds and the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra finds Storgårds exploring music written on both sides of Antheil's successful Symphony No.4, which can be found on Vol.1 of what looks to be an ongoing Antheil series.

Born in Trenton, NJ, Antheil initially made his considerable mark in Europe. After a number of riot-causing concerts in Paris, including the infamous 1926 premiere of his Ballet Mécanique for 16 player pianos, airplane propeller, electric bells, and a kitchen sink's worth of additional instruments, Antheil continued to engage in any number of attention-grabbing stunts, including climbing up the side of Shakespeare & Company in Paris to the apartment where he lived with his wife.

After moving to Germany and finding his music increasingly out of favor with the Nazi orthodoxy, Antheil returned to America. Starting in 1936, he wrote over 30 film scores for the likes of Cecile B. DeMille and Ben Hecht. In the 1940s, he and actress Hedy Lamarr together developed a frequency-hopping scheme to help Allied torpedoes circumvent anti-torpedo technology.

In the second half of his life, Antheil seemed to have beat a musical retreat of sorts by adopting a more conservative, tonal approach to composition in which neo-romantic vigor and short bursts of film score-like inspiration sometimes uneasily inhabited the same bed. Just as those two parts of his musical personality were attempting to join together in holy union, his unpredictable little kid would suddenly emerge, jumping up and down on the mattress and sending notes, themes, and all semblance of cohesion all over the place.

Auditioned in 24/96, Storgårds's just-released anthology open with Archipelago (1935), a wild 6-minute rhumba. Imagine Carmen Miranda and Bugs Bunny doing the rhumba together in Disneyland, and you'll begin to get a sense of what's going on here. Just as those delightful little chickadees fly into view, gayly chirping away, Bugs Bunny yells "What's up, Doc?" and the fur begins to fly. This six-minute piece is a must-hear.

The recording includes two other short, must-hear works. Hot-Time Dance (1948) sounds a bit like the Camptown Races, while Spectre of the Rose Waltz (1946, re-orchestrated 1947), from a film by Ben Hecht, begins kinda lovely and romantic until things suddenly go all unhinged.

The volume's two longer works, the 25-minute Symphony No.3 "American" (1936–41, revised 1946) and slightly longer Symphony No.6 "after Delacroix," puzzle even as they delight. While both contain some delightfully wacky stuff, they often jump from motif to motif and then back again, as if Antheil were scoring a film. I love the crazy chase in the Third Symphony's final movement, "Back to Baltimore," but sometimes I'm unable to figure out if Antheil knows where he's heading. What, for example, are those virtual quotes from the last movement of Sibelius's Symphony No.5 doing in there?

Symphony No.6 certainly sounds American in places—you'll hear the influence of Copland, whom Antheil knew, and whose sensibility also pops up in the Third Symphony—but you'll also hear more of the Keystone Cops wackiness from Antheil's early days. You may find yourself laughing uproariously, or you may feel impelled to jump up from your seat and start playing bone fetch with your doggie.

While I can't find the recording on YouTube, Qobuz appears to have it in 16/44.1 if you want to give it a try. As Antheil's oeuvre begins to scramble your brain, you may find yourself standing up on your hind legs, begging for more. If you do, the 24/96 download is surely the best way to go.