YO-YO MA ET AL.
New Impossibilities

Yo-Yo Ma is on the Silk Road again, with a just-released CD called “New Impossibilities” (Sony Classical). That’s a cute title, and a pretty good one, too. Of course, the famed cellist is in the company of lots of others: his Silk Road Ensemble, plus the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. There’s only so much you can do with the cello alone (unless you’re Bach, in which case you can do anything).

The tracks on this album are in the category of “world music,” for lack of a better term. The pieces are a little ethnic, a little folky, a little rustic — you know: world music. The album begins with “Arabian Waltz,” which is whirling and swirling and Middle Eastern indeed. It continues with “Night of the Flying Horses” by Osvaldo Golijov, who is becoming nearly ubiquitous. In the first part of this piece, there’s a sad little tune, over a lamenting accompaniment. Eventually, the whining ceases, and we get those flying horses (I believe). The music is joyful and klezmer-like.

That track is followed by another equine piece, “Galloping Horses,” by Hai-Hai Huang. (“Hai-Hai” is what you say when you want to make sure the person you’re greeting has heard you.) This piece is a short, East Asian ride, complete with skillful whinnying.

The final track on this disc has the cutesy title “Vocussion,” and it consists of a lot of drumming and chanting. The chanting resembles an elementary-school exercise: “tah, tah, tee-tee tah.” But the piece is peppy and fun. You may think of it as a kind of rap.

By the way, I once heard Marilyn Horne tell an audience that rap is not music. “Rhythm and poetry, I’ll grant you, but not music.” Hear, hear, brave one.

Where the Silk Road is concerned, a little goes a long way, in my view. Of course, plenty of people think that about Vivaldi, and other revered composers. And Yo-Yo Ma can only be commended for wanting to chart new courses in his career. It is true that man can’t live by the Dvorak Concerto alone. (Incidentally, Mr. Ma will begin the New York Philharmonic season with that piece in about a month and half.)

SEQUITUR
To Have and To Hold

Sequitur is a group devoted to cabaret, of the higher-brow sort. Some people might claim that this is cabaret of the pretentious sort. Sequitur has performed in such way-cool New York venues as The Knitting Factory and Joe’s Pub. And they have a CD, entitled “To Have and to Hold,” on the Koch label.

The liner notes make clear that Sequitur is committed to the “forbidden,” e.g., sex. I can only point out: If sex is forbidden, someone forgot to tell TV, the movies, pop music, advertisements … “Beware, incautious listener,” say these liner notes: “This disc is likely to make you weep, make you giggle, turn you on, and, above all, make you think. It’s the danger of music.”

Yeah, yeah. We’re also told that the songs here include “sociopolitical commentary.” For example, one song uses “the terrifying Lawrence Summers testimony wherein pollution is bottom-lined as a cash incentive.” Are you terrified?

So, Sequitur thinks of itself as an audacious, trail-blazing bunch. But are they any good?

“To Have and to Hold” consists of 16 songs by 16 different composers. Apparently, these songs were written expressly for Sequitur. And, as is only natural, some are better than others. The songs range from enjoyable t o disposable.

Eleanor Sandresky’s “My Goddess” is a clever number, building up to a very dirty word. It’s a word that has been used constantly for the last several decades. But don’t try to stop someone when she’s trying to be naughty. Another song, Richard Adams’s “Under Oath,” uses words by Monica Lewinsky. You may remember some of them:

“I used to say, ‘I like it when you wear my ties, ’cause then I know I’m close to your heart.” “In the windowless hallway outside the study, he asked if he could kiss me.” “I told him my name; I had the impression he had forgotten.” Believe it or not, this song has a certain emotional power. The words are very skillfully selected, ordered, and set.

“Is Money Money,” by Anne LeBaron, has a cash register (I believe), and it reminded me of Leroy Anderson’s “Typewriter,” that old Boston Pops favorite. And the disc concludes with Scott Wheeler’s “Gold Standard,” a well-made song in a long American tradition.

Sequitur’s principal performers are Kristen Norderval and Dora Ohrenstein, both of them sopranos. The former sings clearly, simply, and unaffectedly. Indeed, her voice is ingenuous, which makes for a nice contrast when she’s singing “daring” lyrics. Ms. Ohrenstein is the earthier singer here, more classically cabaret-like. Both singers are consistently effective. And the instrumentalists are sharp, too (not in pitch).

Permit me to fall back on a cliché: If you like this kind of thing, this is the kind of thing you will like. I must say, however, that there is a slightly harmful sameness to this album: Many of the songs seem to feature a lot of talking over a noodling, bluesy clarinet. And Sequitur might do well to belessimpressedwithitself, where audacity is concerned: Sex, obscenity, and “sociopolitical commentary” are nothing new, baby. And the biggest danger you may face in these areas is boredom.

THE ELGAR EXPERIENCE

Finally, an album called “The Elgar Experience” (Warner Classics). Many of us consider Elgar an underrated composer, and this two-disc set gives you a strong dose of him. We have a couple of “Pomp and Circumstance” marches, the “Enigma Variations,” and other lovable works. What did Elgar say when he composed “Land of Hope and Glory”? “I’ve got a tune that will knock ’em flat!” Right he was.

The pieces on this disc are all orchestral, with a couple of movements of the Cello Concerto thrown in. The disc’s performers — with a lone exception — are the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Sir Andrew Davis, conducting. They can be counted on for competence. Because of the all-orchestral nature of the disc, we miss some great Elgar: the “Sea Pictures” for mezzo-soprano, for instance. But I guess one-stop shopping is impossible.

“The Elgar Experience” is the kind of product that drives some purists crazy. The cover is corny, and some pieces are merely excerpted. The two movements of the Cello Concerto we have are broken up — indeed, on separate discs! But “The Elgar Experience” is both a clever marketing idea and a service. Often they go together.

And it’s a joy to rediscover — or to discover — Elgar. He is full of soul, inspiration, and humanity. And he is free of some of the most overrated traits known to man: irony, sarcasm, and cynicism.