Dan Flanagan, violin

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 25, 2024

Dan Flanagan is back in town. The violinist and art patron brought his one man show, The Bow and the Brush, back to New York, only this time in a larger and more storied venue, Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. The change in location offered some advantages (more seating capacity, better acoustics) and some disadvantages (primarily the inability to project images on a screen for the audience to see). The images in question are the paintings that inspired a variety of composers to create short works for solo violin, all commissioned by and performed by the violinist. Mr. Flanagan, ever the professional, compensated for the missing visuals by acting as docent on a mini-tour of his collection, though his homespun manner was more Garrison Keillor than Philippe de Montebello.

This year’s slightly expanded program offered nineteen works, six of which were new to me. Trevor Weston’s Notre Dame au milieu de l’eau et du ciel was remarkable for its quicksilver shifts in mood and technique, a compositional response to the artist Lebourg’s juxtaposition of the natural world (sky, water) and the spiritual (Notre Dame). This conceptual approach worked, made even more convincing by Mr. Flanagan’s playing, which is narrative in the best sense.

In Jessica Mays’ And miles to go…, Albert Malet’s painting evokes in turn a Robert Frost poem, and the two come to life beautifully in the composer’s treatment. The main theme, haunting and impassioned, is frequently interrupted by short pizzicato fragments, as if the traveler on this wintry path is torn between stasis and movement. It was interesting to note the equation between perspective in visual art and volume in music, a choice which several of the evening’s composers made convincingly. Catherine Neville’s Danses should really be choreographed, so successfully did she evoke the spirit of dance by mere suggestion. All the elements of Fantin-Latour’s painting were there– melody, articulation, rhythm – but in short bursts that sketched a body in motion.

Part of the immense appeal of Mr. Flanagan’s concerts is the opportunity to be introduced to contemporary artists as well as to brush up on your art history. Who knew that the Impressionist Camille Pissarro had several progeny that were fine artists in their own right? Michael Panther, in his second commission for this series, chose a canvas by Georges-Henri Pissarro, third son of Camille, as a departure point for a piece that uses French traditions – sensuous melodies, exotic harmonies, pastoral folk dance- to illuminate a lakeside scene at change of seasons. The work of Pissarro’s fourth son, Ludovic-Rodo, was also on display in Edmund Campion’s terrific Le Grand Écart. Alternating compositional styles and violin registers mirrored Pissarro’s chalk drawing of a dancer in full split. As in Mr. Campion’s case, the brevity of the commissions and their relationship to a specific work of art allowed the composers to narrow their focus and strike at the heart of inspiration.

As if his plate were not already quite full enough, Dan Flanagan the composer was also on display. An Animated Street in Autumn, alternating between frenzy and quietude, and LeGato au Chocolat, an homage to the feline in charge of Mr. Flanagan’s household, served as vehicles for the violinist’s profound talent. He is a composer’s dream, an imaginative and reliable conduit for the vast array of musicians whose contributions he solicits.

This iteration of The Bow and the Brush included performances of several solos from the 2023 tour, all of which are worthy of repeated hearings, in particular Shinji Eshima’s The Collection, for sheer beauty and fluidity, and Libby Larsen’s, The Only Way Through is Slow, for finding novel solutions to this unusual format. My only recommendation for the future of this series is to trim the program even further. Mr. Flanagan’s natural generosity is admirable, but more compositions means more repetition, especially in the area of extended technique. Still, I found this time around even more enjoyable than the first. May there be many more generations of this wonderful program to follow.

Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Conductor
Sir Karl Jenkins, Conductor
Jeff Spurgeon, Host
Blythe Gaissert, Mezzo-Soprano

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra
Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 15, 2024

Sir Karl Jenkins, a prolific and celebrated composer in England and around the globe, was given a joyous and heartfelt tribute at Carnegie Hall by Distinguished Concerts International New York. The rapid approach of his ninth decade has not diminished his popularity or vitality, as he is currently juggling several projects and commissions.

Though I was unfamiliar with the work of Mr. Jenkins before this concert, his talent and facility as a composer and his commitment to music as a vehicle for pacifism were in evidence this evening. The centerpiece of the performance was The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace, a work in thirteen movements that has the distinction of occupying fifth place in the list of Great British Classics. A fifteenth-century French chanson, L’Homme Armé was the point of departure for an affecting work that evoked both the carnage of war and its opposite, a plea for peace and healing.

Mr. Jenkins is a very fine orchestrator, especially for brass and percussion, and they were given plenty to do throughout this work due to the nature of its subject matter. The players handled it brilliantly, particularly the trumpets, led by Michael Gorham, and every one of the percussion soloists. This composer has a gift for melody however, and it was in those more lyrical movements that the Mass was most compelling. Mezzo-soprano Blythe Gaissert led a simple but poignant Kyrie against an underpinning of low strings and chorus. Similarly, the Hymn Before Action, with its sweeping, unapologetic romanticism, was worthy of a 1950’s biblical epic. But it was the penultimate movement, the Benedictus, that was the highlight of the evening, in large part due to the superb playing of cello soloist Robert Burkhart. In general, the strings played a supporting role in this concert, but they produced a consistently beautiful sound, led by their excellent leader, Jorge Ávila.

Midway through the evening, Sir Karl Jenkins himself made an appearance, sporting his signature walrus moustache and aviator glasses. More encomiums were offered, including a clever arrangement of Happy Birthday played by the orchestra with full audience participation. At age eighty, he seems to have retained his youthful demeanor and commitment to music that has social relevance. After intermission, a selection of his most famous compositions, billed as “The Best of Karl Jenkins,” received a committed performance. Several movements from Symphonic Adiemus, Requiem and Stabat Mater solidified my impressions from the first half of the concert. The composer writes well and idiomatically for orchestra and chorus, albeit with challenging passages. The chorus sounded more settled and accurate in the second half, and once again the percussion section shone with featured solos on traditional Middle Eastern instruments. My one reservation about this concert was the programming of mostly liturgical works that had remarkably similar overall structures. The use of ostinato, driving rhythm and repetition to build tension were present in virtually all of the Allegro movements, while the development of thematic material was largely absent. Played separately, each work would have had more impact, but all of them performed consecutively lessened the effect. Still, I was happy to have spent a night with the music of this celebrated and well-loved musician, Sir Karl Jenkins.

Chang Li, piano

Contemporary musicians have many tools at their disposal with which to promote their artistry.  The Chinese pianist Chang Li, a doctoral student at Michigan State University, and an active solo and collaborative performer, has released a digital album, Trace Back, available on iTunes and various other digital music platforms, as an introduction to his work for listeners who may not otherwise encounter him in a concert setting.  Like many other compilations of this variety, it is a collection of short pieces, some familiar to the casual listener, some not, meant to form an initial musical portrait of the pianist.

After having listened to the album, it is now clear to me that its title refers to the genealogical journey from the first composer represented here, Lowell Liebermann, all the way to his historical ancestor, Domenico Scarlatti.  This temporal reversal, from Liebermann through Scriabin, Debussy, Schubert, and finally Scarlatti, functions as a brief history of the piano as a lyrical, expressive vessel for the composer, allowing Mr. Li to use his natural gifts for flexible rubato and a singing tone.  The one composer conspicuously absent from this collection, Frédéric Chopin, is the unacknowledged link in this chain, the one to whom all of his successors pay homage.  Judging from the care and attention given to all of these selections, it would be a pleasure to hear some of Mr. Li’s Chopin on a future recording. 

The most revelatory performance comes right at the beginning, with Liebermann’s Nocturne No. 1, Op. 20.  I have always been a fan of this composer, especially of his works for piano.  In his treatment of this piece, Mr. Li gives ample space to the constantly shifting harmonies in both right and left hands, creating a sense of unease and mystery.  These passages are then interrupted by brief, fortissimo outbursts of brutality before returning, each time more quietly, to the nocturne rhythm.  This is a sensitive performance of a modern classic of piano literature.

The link between Liebermann and Scriabin is cleverly made more obvious by the pianist’s immediate segue into Scriabin’s Five Preludes, Op. 16.  Right away, No.1 continues a similar left hand motif, though now in Scriabin’s voice, still harmonically surprising, but of an earlier era.  Again, perhaps to emphasize the connection, Mr. Li employs ample rubato, phrasing with much freedom.  The remaining preludes are all gems, in particular, No. 4 and No. 5, which show the unmistakable influence of Chopin in an uncanny way.  These preludes fit the pianist like a glove and served to remind me of Scriabin’s essential place in the history of Romantic composition.

Mr. Li’s interpretations of Debussy’s Suite Bergamesque and the four Schubert Impromptus, Op. 90 (D. 899) were equally impressive for sheer tonal beauty and sensitive phrasing.  I have heard the Debussy played with more reserve, more brain than heart, but these were valid approaches also.  In Clair de Lune however, a little less pedal and more emotional distance from the music might have served it better. 

What a brilliant idea to end with Scarlatti, another titan of the keyboard, whose joyful Sonata in C major, K. 159, brought this album to a close.  With impeccable fingerwork and crisp execution, Mr. Li proved his versatility as an artist here, as in the entire recording.  I look forward to hearing more from him, perhaps even in a real concert hall someday.

Jiao Sun, piano

Southampton Cultural Center, Southampton, NY

November 19, 2022

The pianist Jiao Sun is the perfect ambassador for classical music in an era when cultural organizations are rethinking their approach to audience building.  In what is frequently becoming the standard for recital programs, she offered a hearty tasting menu of works spanning the centuries, along with her own friendly and informative prefaces.  The concert clocked in at about one hour, a streamlined but satisfying way to spend a late Saturday afternoon.

A good deal of thought went into the structuring of this program, beginning with the choice of three Scarlatti sonatas, in contrasting keys.  Though I normally prefer not to separate technique from expression, it must be said that Ms. Sun has a secure technical foundation, which she uses in service to the composer.  The two sonatas in major keys were straightforward, brilliant examples of the kind of keyboard writing that is Scarlatti’s domain (those scales in thirds !), but it was the middle sonata in D minor that drew me in the most.  The pianist employed a beautiful singing tone to weave a pure and simple lament into an aria worthy of Handel at his best. 

I would not immediately draw a line from Scarlatti to Haydn, but this juxtaposition in Ms. Sun’s programming allowed us to see the obvious relationship between these two unconventional keyboard composers.  Her modest and contained interpretation of Haydn’s C minor Sonata, Hob XVI/20, suited this work, most especially in the tender Andante con Moto, in which the pianist created a long arching melodic line from start to finish.

Three unrelated compositions, like those socks that come out of the dryer without partners, served as a diversion between the heftier repertoire which framed them.  The pianist had plenty of opportunity here to highlight her strong left hand in Gershwin’s I Got Rhythm and, to a larger extent, in Scriabin’s Étude  Op. 42, No. 5.  I have heard Gershwin’s own recordings of his piano works, and he may not have embraced Ms. Sun’s rubato, but it was a still an infectious interpretation.  And the Scriabin was a triumph, a roiling, turbulent reading of a fiendishly difficult piece.  Ms. Sun’s friend, the Peruvian  Hwaen Ch’uqi, composed the middle work of this trio, a tragicomic short story with the curious title, Threnody of the Elephants on the Death of Their Friend. As befitting it’s subject matter,  this slow, ponderous  elegy hardly ventured above middle C.  The pianist employed subtle dynamic shadings throughout, eventually building a great mass of sound at the climactic conclusion.  This was a strong piece from a composer of promising talent.

All the stops were pulled out in the two concluding pieces of this program, Chopin’s G Minor Ballade and the Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody #6, both of which posed no challenge to Ms. Sun’s stamina.  In particular, the Liszt seemed be squarely in her comfort zone, as she dug deeper into the keys to produce a more robust, meaty sound. Her command of the octave passages in the finale was truly astonishing, and a thrilling end to the evening.

Ms. Sun has all the skills needed for a successful career as a performing artist.  Her gifts are prodigious and her preparation is rigorous.  I would only plant one thought in her head, and that is to allow for more spontaneity, more connection to her own, personal voice as a musician, to bring her to the next level of artistry.

Heather Sorenson, Composer/Conductor

Joseph M. Martin, Composer/Conductor

Sarah Whittemore, Soloist; Sue Martin, Soloist; Layke Jones, Soloist

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

David Geffen Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

November 20, 2022

I must admit I approached this concert with trepidation, because when it comes to holiday music, I’m a bit of a Scrooge.  So it is with surprise and delight that I found this to be a thoroughly enjoyable way to spend a chilly Sunday afternoon in New York. 

The program was divided evenly between two composer/conductors, featuring their original choral compositions and their arrangements of the most beloved Christmas carols.  The chorus, comprised of a consortium of choral groups from around the U.S. and beyond, were a well-prepared, balanced, and committed ensemble.  Heather Sorenson, whose pieces formed the first half of this program, conducted with utter clarity and precision throughout a cycle of nine contemporary liturgical works.  The current trend in this branch of the musical world freely borrows from an array of sources – Renaissance music, traditional Celtic folk tunes, Disney-style ballads – all cleverly and attractively arranged.  I was especially taken by Who’s the Little Baby? delivered with gospel-flavored gusto by the excellent Sarah Whittemore. Though I cringed at the thought of a carol inspired by the ubiquitous Canon in D, A Pachelbel Noel was in fact a creative melding of two beautiful melodies, a brilliant and moving hybrid.

I am familiar with the work of Joseph M. Martin, having reviewed him in a previous issue of New York Concert Review, and I am an unabashed fan.  He has a firm grasp of a variety of compositional styles, yet he infuses them with his own personal touch and wit, Tidings of Joy, his suite in ten parts, incorporates the best of our traditional Christmas fare (I Saw Three Kings, Joy To the World, The First Noel) into a joyful tribute that transcends this holiday season.  God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen is transformed into a sea shanty, complete with bouncing bongos, and Joy To the World, unbelievably, is pure vaudeville in his rendering. Mr. Martin’s podium demeanor is focused and motivating. 

There was an unmistakable patina of professionalism over the whole endeavor, from chorus to soloists to instrumental ensemble.  In addition to the previously mentioned Sarah Whittemore, kudos must go to Sue Martin and Layke Jones for their sensitive contributions in Mr. Martin’s half of the program, and to Brad Nix,  a wonderful pianist who is a frequent collaborator with Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY). Since this concert took place at the newly renovated Geffen Hall, any review within six months of its opening cannot avoid an appraisal of its acoustics.  I was seated in row F, fairly close to the stage, and the sound there was a mixed bag.  The small chamber ensemble, of impeccable quality, came across with clarity and richness (I’m not sure they were all credited in the program).  However, the chorus, while audible, could have benefited from more definition and projection, especially in the first half.  This is to be expected, as the kinks in this new environment are eventually worked out.  In the meantime, DCINY continues to be an important part of the musical life of New York City.

Lynn Spurgat, soprano; Jason Wirth, piano

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 15, 2022

The soprano Lynn Spurgat is a storyteller, and lest we forget that singing is essentially storytelling, she reminded us of that in the most charming and affecting way in her recent recital at Zankel Hall.  Her collaborator, the gifted pianist Jason Wirth, created landscapes of color and dynamics to bring their interpretations to vivid life.

Perhaps this is not fair, but I feel that the program would have been near perfect if the opener, Mendelssohn’s concert aria Infelice, had been jettisoned in favor of something less weighty and imposing, something, in fact, more Mendelssohnian.  The back story for this work is fascinating, but the aria itself is not distinguished enough to merit its inclusion.  I give Ms. Spurgat credit for having the guts to start off firing on all cylinders.  However, it was only after this that her true talents as a singer became apparent.

Francis Poulenc’s monologue for soprano and orchestra, La Dame de Monte Carlo, was written for Denise Duval, Poulenc’s muse in the final years of his life.  By reputation, she was a superb singing actress.  In her own rendering, Ms. Spurgat, alternately comic and tragic, gave a rich account of this very special work.  Though she stopped once because of a memory slip, no one, least of all me, seemed to care.  Her voice, now relaxed and expansive, had a beautiful spin to it in the upper register, and her low notes were expressive and secure.  She has a big sound that can fill a room easily, without having to push.  This was a witty, nuanced performance from both soprano and pianist.

It was a treat to hear the Brahms Zigeunerlieder again, in an impassioned, strongly rhythmic reading that built steadily from its first song to the last, an uninhibited outpouring of ardent love, with Ms. Spurgat’s voice off the leash and in full bloom.

I’ll take a moment here to mention the excellent program notes, which managed to provide both introductory information for the uninitiated and esoterica for the seasoned concertgoer.  Speaking of esoterica, am I the only one who didn’t know that the celebrated writer Anais Nin was the daughter of the composer Joaquin Nin, the Cuban expatriate who was a contemporary of Granados and Albeniz?  In a brilliant stroke of programming, Ms. Spurgat launched the second half of her recital with the Diez Villancicos de Noel, a cycle of Christmas carols from diverse regions of Spain.  Each one was a gem, a microcosm of the rhythms and folk song traditions of those provinces, Mr. Wirth shone here in his voicing and sensitive pedaling, and the soprano held the audience in rapt attention with her melismatic, earthy singing of Jesus de Nazareth, the penultimate piece of this work.

The selection of Kurt Weill songs that brought this evening to a close confirmed for me his status as one of the great theater composers of the 20th century.  Here was a perfect meeting of artist and songwriter.  Ms. Spurgat is adept at conveying the quicksilver changes of mood and the pathos just below the surface of Weill’s creations.  Actors like to say that comedy is harder than tragedy, but what is harder than both is the juxtaposition of the two, and Ms. Spurgat excels at this. 

The enthusiastic audience demanded two encores, and Ms. Spurgat generously complied.  Once again, I can’t stress enough the contributions of Jason Wirth, one of the finest collaborative pianists I have heard, and a rock-solid support and inspiration for Lynn Spurgat.  Finally, compliments also to Laura Lutzke, the excellent violinist in the Mendelssohn concert aria.

Lynn Spurgat’s warm presence and talent for connecting with her audience made this evening a success.  My admiration for Poulenc and Weill was renewed and I discovered Joaquin Nin, all through her committed performances of their compositions.  Who could ask for anything more?

Dan Flanagan, violin

Marc A. Scorca Hall, National Opera Center, New York, NY

October 3, 2022

Dan Flanagan is a true Renaissance man.  During the height of the pandemic in 2020, while the rest of us were baking sourdough bread and watching Netflix, he was busy commissioning sixteen short works for solo violin, inspired by the paintings in his own art collection. Most of the composers, and some of the artists reside in the Bay Area near San Francisco, where Mr. Flanagan is an active freelance musician, a faculty member at UC Berkeley, and concertmaster of the Sacramento Philharmonic. 

Every aspect of the production was thoroughly professional and of a high quality, yet presented in a relaxed and engaging way.  Mr. Flanagan is an excellent violinist, versatile enough to serve as a blank canvas (and I mean this in the best sense) for the diverse styles of all the composers.  The selected paintings were displayed clearly on a large screen.  Before each composition, the violinist rendered a brief introduction, with personal notes about the visual and musical artists.   Marc A. Scorca Hall is a small room, but perfect for this sort of evening, and the acoustics are superb.

Time and space do not permit me to review each of the participants, so I will mention a few highlights: The Collection, by Shinji Eshima, was inspired by a portrait of the violinist by Paul Gibson.  Mr. Eshima wove a theme based on the four notes of Bach’s name into an expressive, rhapsodic piece, employing all the basics of violin technique.  Raven’s Dance, to a texturally vivid painting of that creature by Nina Fabunmi, led Linda Marcel to create an aural landscape of fluttering, skittering, clawing sound, using a battery of contemporary techniques.  I was surprised to learn from the extensive program notes that Oil on Canvas was the composer Michael Panther’s very first piece for solo violin.  If so, this is a very impressive partner to another Gibson work called, simply, AB White.  Of all the solos, I felt that this one struck the perfect balance between subjective and objective modes of interpretation. It certainly made we want to hear more of Mr. Panther’s work.  Equally compelling was Émergence, a haunting evocation of Susan Bostrom-Wong’s Stepping Out.  In both works, concrete ideas emerge from a hazy background in a beautifully modulated fashion. 

At this point in the program, Mr. Flanagan paused to tell the story behind the next piece, Blue Swan, by Evan Price.  In his recounting, to relieve his boredom during lockdown, he developed a new hobby – destroying old string instruments that were already beyond hope.  The cello that appears in Sean O’Donnell’s Allegro Non Trollop was in fact, thrown off a fourth story building, and became the model for his sculpture and for Mr. Prices’s bluesy transformation of Saint-Saëns The Swan, from Carnival of the Animals. 

James Stephenson, a successful orchestral musician turned composer,  chose Armand Guillamin’s Cour de Ferme, Breuillet, as a departure point for an entire vignette with some dark overtones. A demonic country fiddle tune becomes frenzied as the story behind the painting unravels.  Mr. Flanagan brought this to life convincingly, as he did in the following solo, Peter Josheff’s Same Old Sadness, and exquisite, shimmering evocation in the alpine regions of the violin of an untitled canvas by Peter Canty.  Finally, in Couple au lit, David Mecionis explores the netherworld between waking and sleeping, in a thorny, eerily beautiful and challenging solo. 

I must list all the composers and paintings on whom I could not elaborate:  Victoria Veedell, Cindy Cox, Elaine Pratt, Maija Hynninen, Rachel Dwan, Nathaniel Stookey, Ludovic-Rodo Pissarro, Edmund Campion, Carrington Arredondo, Emily Onderdonk, Joaquin Turner, Nikki Vismara, Libby Larsen, Robert Antoine Pinchon, José González Granero, and last, but certainly not least, the unassuming star of the evening, Dan Flanagan.  His generosity and intelligence informed the entire program, and both of his own compositions affirmed his talent and (especially in the encore) his virtuosity.  This presentation is scheduled for an extensive touring season, and I wish it much success.

Pepper Choplin and Joseph M. Martin, composers/conductors

Anne Moody, Brad Nix, Joshua Chai, pianists

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Isaac Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 2, 2022

A convocation of choral groups from across the nation gathered at Carnegie Hall on May 2nd to sing the works in the field of church music of two distinguished composer/conductors and Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) favorites.  In keeping with current norms of this season, the program ran with only a pause between its two halves, lasting a mere eighty minutes, but with a enough variety to serve as an engaging introduction to the world of contemporary liturgical composition.

In the first half, a cantata by composer Pepper Choplin (in his 9th appearance with DCINY) entitled Once Upon a Morning offered a refreshing alternative to the canon of existing Easter cantatas.  The events, beginning with the death of Christ, and extending to Pentecost, were explored in a series of musical portraits based on New Testament scripture.  Each section began with a narrator (noted for her clarity) and piano prelude (the excellent Anne Moody). 

Mr. Choplin’s compositional style is appealing, rooted in soft jazz harmonies and Broadway-style anthems.  He is adept at building sound through the gradual layering of canonic entrances.  In the most exhilarating  section of this nine-part work, Why Do You Seek The Living Among The Dead, syncopated accents and a propulsive rhythm illustrate the text vividly.  The classic and enduring hymn, Christ The Lord Is Risen Today by Charles Wesley, was woven into the fabric of the song, this quotation serving both as an homage, and as a unifying motif, appearing again in the final selection of the cantata. 

The overall effectiveness of the pacing was somewhat diminished by the similarity in tempo, meter and tone of the cycle.  A whole stretch of material midway through the piece had a sameness that was overly predictable.  However, Mr. Choplin’s precise leadership at the podium and the committed singing of the amassed choristers and two vocal soloists helped to make the performance a success.

After a brief pause, and a resetting of the stage, the concert continued with a new mix of singers, two pianists instead of one, and the estimable composer and conductor Joseph M. Martin (in his 10th appearance with DCINY).  Though not connected by a narrative, these eight songs were thematically of a piece, celebrating music and the human voice as a testament to faith and optimism.  The two piano arrangements, in their debut performance, added great variety and verve to the canticle, especially in the terrific hands of Brad Nix and Joshua Chai.

Standards of preparation and interpretation were remarkably high in this performance.  The chorus’ sound was balanced beautifully,  employing a broad range of finely tuned dynamics.  Credit is due to Mr. Martin, first as a gifted composer, and then as a galvanizing force for his fellow musicians.  I enjoyed the songs so much, it is difficult for me to single out my favorites, though I was particularly impressed by the finale, Sing To Me, with its exquisite piano prelude, and monumental finish.  The composer has a talent for seamlessly weaving a variety of musical genres (folk song in The Lord Is My Light and symphonic repertoire in Sing Your Way Home) into his work.  Most importantly, he is a natural musician, and a generous one, both with his colleagues and with us, the audience.

Those present were enthusiastic in their applause.  The night’s program could not have been better as an introduction to this very special branch of the musical world.

Christopher Jessup, piano

Provided to YouTube by CDBaby

Released on: 2021-06-12

The young and talented pianist Christopher Jessup has produced an album that is based on a novel premise.  What if one was to play only the very first movements of some of the cornerstones of the piano repertoire?  This is a provocative way to structure a recording, and I admit to having mixed feelings about this project.  As Mr. Jessup surely knows, a sonata is a musical narrative, and the omission of the later movements leaves a story untold, a story with no resolution.  This sense of incompleteness in the musical works extends to our knowledge of the artist as well.  Can we know him fully from these partial sketches?  I suspect that the pianist is offering us a tasting menu as an introduction both to him, and to the works he is playing.  As a marketing ploy, it may be ingenious, especially as a way to attract new audiences to classical music. For those discovering these works for the first time however, it would be helpful to credit the composer next to the title. 

Mr. Jessup is a very fine musician with a high standard of technique that is always in service to the composer.  He has a brisk, clean approach to the instrument,  coupled with a sense of the overall musical architecture in mind.  This serves him most well in repertoire from the Classical era, represented here by the Haydn B minor Sonata, Hob. XVI: 32 and the Mozart D major, K.311.  Both works were marked by beautiful, sensitive phrasing, with well-calibrated dynamics and careful attention to voicing.  The Haydn was particularly well played, at a slightly faster tempo, but with its drama intact.

I found it refreshing that the pianist did not adhere to the convention of presenting the works in chronological order.  The juxtaposition of the Ravel Sonatine and the Mozart, for example, is illuminating.   Mr. Jessup shows an affinity for Ravel in the same way that he does for the Classicists.  There is much to admire in this light, gossamer, pristine interpretation and again, the phrasing is impeccable.  Similarly, his Beethoven is a model of clarity and balance, and belies a composer’s understanding of harmony and modality.

As is the case with most artists, their strengths may also prove to be their weaknesses on occasion.  For this reason, I felt that both the Grieg Sonata and the Bach Italian Concerto were not convincing, due to a restraint that robbed them of their most important qualities.  The Grieg lacked passion and the Bach was too polite, without the driving rhythm that makes it so purely joyous.  The ” stylistic approaches”  which the pianist refers to in his notes are too muted here to be effective.

Mr. Jessup very generously includes a “bonus track” to conclude this album, and it is indeed a bonus.  His own composition, Le Revenant (The Ghost), develops from its opening tritone theme into a mysterious, skittering moto perpetuo that is impressive for the quality of the playing, and its coherence as a composition.  I would love to hear more of his output as a composer.  This will also feed him as an interpretive musician, and expand his already considerable gifts as a pianist of note.

Ju Hee Kang, Flute

Heejin Kim, Piano

Yeon Hwa Chung, Harp

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

September 18, 2019 at 8:00 pm

Some performers exude an air of professionalism and intelligence before the concert has even begun. Ju Hee Kang is one such musician. Flute recitals can venture quite easily into overly familiar terrain, with the kind of easily digestible material that has made the instrument so popular.  Ms. Kang managed to avoid that, with a program that included some rarities, a world premiere, and a virtuoso showpiece of true musical value.  Her partners in this recital, the pianist Heejin Kim and the harpist Yeon Hwa Chung, provided seamless support as ensemble players and shone beautifully in their many passages of solo playing.

At some point before the evening of the concert, the advertised program was altered slightly to omit a Handel Sonata and to include Emile Noblot’s Andantino for Flute and Harp and Ibert’s Entr’acte. Noblot, a French pianist who studied at the Conservatoire de Paris, became a renowned bandleader, and a staple of French radio broadcasts after World War II. The harmonic language, use of the whole tone scale, and structure of his Andantino reflect the still pervasive influence of Debussy on many mid-century composers. Ms. Kang was wise to choose this as an opener.  Her strengths, a big beautiful tone, smooth legato phrasing, and fine breath control, were immediately apparent. Ms. Chung  played with an acute sensitivity to dynamics.

Jacques Ibert’s Entr’acte, frequently played as an encore, provided  Ms. Kang with an opportunity to feature the more fiery side of her temperament.  Here, the composer, an avid Hispanophile, painted a tonal portrait of a traditional Spanish dance, complete with percussive effects on the flute to replicate the rhythmic stomping of the dancer.  Ms. Kang easily negotiated the rapid  staccato passages and shifted beautifully between contrasting dynamics.  Perhaps the harp lacks some of the bite of the guitar, but I was happy to hear the engaging musicality of Ms. Chung once more.

A more substantive composition, the Bartók Suite Paysanne Hongroise, occupied the largest spot on the program’s first half.  This solo piano work, arranged for flute and piano by Bartok’s student, Paul Arma, is one of the fruits of the composer’s many years of research into the folk music of the Carpathian Basin.  It’s a fascinating arrangement of a rich trove of musical material.  Ms. Kang and her pianist, Heejin Kim, delivered a solid account of a work that poses many technical and stylistic challenges.  I especially enjoyed the improvisatory feel of the first song, the bluesy quality of the second, and the infectious fourth, with its leaps into Alpine territory amidst the driving foundation of the piano part.  The finale of the whole suite, a multi-tiered accelerando into a virtually unplayable tempo, made for great musical theater.  Ms. Kang may have faltered slightly at the climax, but it was still an exciting ride.

A bit of esoterica, the Sonatine by Walter Gieseking, brought us slightly further into the twentieth century chronologically, if not compositionally.  Gieseking, one of the giants of French pianism, who adopted Germany as his home, was also an active composer.  The Sonatine, a very attractive work in three movements, owes a great debt to the influence of Francis Poulenc, an exact contemporary of Gieseking.  The simple walking melodies over unexpected harmonic changes and the Gallic cabaret waltzes are the language of Poulenc, and they are present in the Sonatine also.  Of all the works so far, this one posed the most challenges for Ms. Kang in interpretation and execution.  The moments of rubato in the second movement felt somewhat forced, and in the last movement, a test for anyone’s stamina, she seemed to lose steam on the repeated high notes.  Still, I’m grateful to have heard such a charming piece, written by an artist whom I admire so much.

The world premiere, Beceues, by Vartan Aghababian, was an intelligent piece of programming, offering thematic continuity with both the Bartók (works derived from folk tunes) and the Schubert (theme and variations).  Mr. Aghababian, who has had extensive experience in film scoring and editing, wrote well for Ms. Kang’s talents.  With a leisurely pace, and long, shapely phrases, the flutist played with a dreamlike quality, as if recalling a memory from the distant past.  It was a thoroughly convincing performance.

Only a confident artist like Ms. Kang would leave the meatiest and most technically taxing piece for last, but it was a pleasure to hear her rendition.  Trockne Blumen, one of the last songs in Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin cycle, is the basis for a set of variations for flute and, just as notably, piano.  Though the Introduction is bleak  (mirrored by the flutist with a colorless, pale tone), the variations, in full blown Romantic style, pull out all the stops.  Ms. Kang and Ms. Kim aced it all – torrents of arpeggios, cascading triplets in both flute and piano, and the final variation ending in a barrage of brilliant sixteenth notes. To their credit, they made affecting music in the process.  This was a satisfying end to a well balanced concert by three promising, gifted musicians.