Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra led by Gustavo Dudamel with featured artists Lang Lang and Yo-Yo Ma

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Gustavo Dudamel, conductor
Yo-Yo Ma, cello
Carnegie Hall: Stern Auditorium; New York, NY
October 3, 2010

Gustavo Dudamel. Photo Credit Chris Lee

For the Vienna Philharmonic’s last two concerts, the young Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel took over from the veteran Nikolaus Harnoncourt, and a greater contrast can hardly be imagined. Even the seating of the string sections was different: Harnoncourt had the violins on opposite sides of the stage, Dudamel had them side by side. Only a few years ago, Dudamel created a sensation with his extraordinary talent; his amazing youthful accomplishments in his own country and abroad and his meteoric rise to fame culminated in his appointment as the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s Music Director last season. He has impressed New York audiences conducting not only his Venezuelan Youth Orchestra (which he has been leading for eleven years and is now replicating in Los Angeles), but also great orchestras like the New York Philharmonic, and his appearances are always eagerly anticipated. The Vienna Philharmonic’s concerts were no exception.

 The three romantic masterpieces on the final program: Brahms’ “Tragic Overture,” Schumann’s Cello Concerto, and Dvorák’s “New World” Symphony, seemed a perfect choice for displaying Dudamel’s boundless energy, exuberance, and involvement. And indeed his performance of the Brahms was full of promise: noble, somber and austere, it struck a fine balance between passion and restraint, intensity and release. There were no extremes of tempo or dynamics, none of the whispering and crashing of the Vienna Philharmonic’s earlier Beethoven program.

 If anyone whispered, it was Yo-Yo Ma in the Schumann. Of all the great cello concertos, this is perhaps the least soloistic; it feels less like a showpiece than a conversation between soloist and orchestra. Emphasizing its intimacy, inwardness, and the poetic, almost spoken quality of its phrasing and melodic rise and fall, Ma interacted closely with the concertmaster and with the principal cellist in their slow movement duet. Unfortunately, his best intentions were defeated by the size of Carnegie Hall; his playing had all its customary beauty, variety and expressiveness, but his tone was often lost in the large space. Nevertheless, he received a standing ovation, and, after embracing the conductor and as many members of the orchestra as he could reach, notably the principal cellist, he returned to play the first movement of Bach’s G-major solo Suite.

The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra Led by Gustavo Dudamel in Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage with featuring artist Lang Lang. Photo Credit - Chris Lee

 

If the Brahms, with its avoidance of exaggeration, had brought out the best in Dudamel, the Dvorák did the opposite. Everything was excessive and overdone. There was no whispering, but plenty of crashing; this must have been the loudest “New World” within memory. The sound was so thick that many important melodic and harmonic details were lost; the build-ups were so precipitous that climaxes were often reached long before their time. The temptation to draw maximal sound from a great orchestra must be irresistible to a conductor, especially a young firebrand; Dudamel seemed to be unleashing the elemental forces of nature. His conducting style is marked by an almost unremitting tension; he seems like a taut wire, physically and emotionally. Conducting from memory, his gestures were angular and stabbing, producing lots of aggressive accents, or large and sweeping, producing great masses of sound. The result was a “New World” Symphony long on drama, intensity and drive, short on lyricism and repose. The audience responded with the sort of screaming associated with rock stars rather than classical conductors; the encore, the Waltz from Bernstein’s Divertimento, was blessedly quiet.

Though it is true that Dvorák’s “American” works were influenced by native American idioms, his own native Czech idiom is never far away; in fact, his music seemed to get increasingly Czech as he became more homesick. If he had lived long enough to hear the words “Going home” later added to the English horn melody in the “New World” Symphony’s slow movement (played beautifully at this concert), he might have felt that they echoed his own sentiments.  

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Nikolaus Harnoncourt, conductor
Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
September 30, 2010

The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra led by Nikolaus Harnoncourt – Photo Credit: Chris Lee

If the Orchestra’s first program was distinctly conventional, the second program was distinctly unusual: Bedrich Smetana’s six-part tone poem “Ma Vlást” (My Homeland). Though rarely performed in its entirety, the second movement, “Vltava” (The Moldau), is often played separately and has become an audience favorite.

Smetana (1824-1884) has been called the founder of nationalism in music. At a time when his country was part of German-speaking Austria, he studied and mastered Czech, an extremely difficult language, joined the nationalist movement, and incorporated Czech folk-music into his compositions. (The most famous one is the delightful comic opera, “The Bartered Bride.”) “Ma Vlást,” a highly programmatic work, is a celebration of Czech culture, history, and the beauties of the countryside.

The first movement, “Vysehrad,” describes the grand medieval Castle that once towered above Prague; its theme, the majestic opening arpeggios played alternately by two harps (seated in this performance on opposite sides of the stage), recurs in different forms in several movements.

The second movement, “Vltava,” is a Rondo whose theme is a broad, haunting melody with a strange resemblance to Israel’s national anthem, “Hatikva” (Hope). The music follows the river from source to estuary; on the way, it encounters peasants frolicking at a wedding, elves dancing in the moonlight, a forest hunt, and the rapids. When it passes Prague and Vysehrad, the harps re-state their arpeggio theme, taken up emphatically by the orchestra.

The third movement, “Sarka,” is a percussion-driven war-like march. Sarka, a maiden betrayed by her lover, seeks revenge on all men; she has assembled a band of warrior-maidens to battle an army of men. She tricks its leader into falling in love with her, then drugs the men into a drunken sleep and calls on her women to slaughter them. The music is loud, wild, and chaotic – a vengeful orgy.

Peace is restored in the fourth movement, “In Bohemia’s Fields and Forests.” It, too, is sometimes heard separately; its pastoral serenity, melodic flow, rich harmonies and concluding cheerful dance have made it almost as popular as Vltava.

The last two movements, “Tabor” and “Blanik” are meant to be played together, because both are based on the same Hussite hymn. Tabor is a Bohemian town used by the followers of Jan Hus (later executed as a rebel) as the site of their resistance to royal authority. Blanik is a mountain where a band of dead knights (or their spirits) stands ready to aid the nation in times of travail. The Hussite chorale serves as a majestic march of the rebellious and ultimately victorious Hussites, and finally as an assertion of “the resurrection of the Czech nation, its future happiness and glory.” “Tabor” is perhaps a bit too long; the chorale is repeated too many times, though in different keys, but “Blanik” is concise and ends triumphantly, with the Vysehrad theme sounding in the distance.

The work was ideally suited to the famous “Vienna” sound: the warm, velvety strings, the colorful woodwinds, the mellow brass, especially the prominent horns. The musicians seemed to revel in their own ravishing tone, the masterful orchestration, the idiomatic Czech rhythms and melodic lines. Again, the only flaw was a lack of balance: the middle voices often obscured the melodies and the brass and percussion were too loud.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra at The Carnegie Hall Opening Gala

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Nikolaus Harnoncourt, conductor
Lang Lang, piano
Carnegie Hall Opening Gala, New York, NY
September 29, 2010

Carnegie Hall opens its 2010-2011 season with a gala benefit concert featuring the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra led by Nikolaus Harnoncourt in Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage. The all-Beethoven program includes Symphony No. 7 in A Major as well as the Piano Concerto No. 1 in C Major, featuring guest soloist Lang Lang. Photo Credit: Chris Lee

 

To launch its new season, Carnegie Hall invited the Vienna Philharmonic for four concerts, the first two conducted by Nikolaus Harnoncourt, the last two by Gustavo Dudamel. The Opening Night Gala also celebrated the Orchestra’s 101st performance at Carnegie Hall, giving it an especially festive air.  

As is often the case with Gala concerts, the program was very conventional: Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony and first Piano Concerto. The only surprise was that the 80-year-old German-born, Austrian-based maestro had personally selected the 28-year-old Chinese pianist Lang Lang as his soloist, an odd choice that seemed based on an attraction of opposites. But as soon as the music started, it was clear that it was grounded instead in mutual respect and pleasure in working together.  

Harnoncourt is best known for his pioneering work with period-instrument groups, but he has gradually broadened his activities, conducting symphony orchestras and exploring the romantic literature. Using no podium or baton, he exhibited a degree of physical energy and emotional intensity that a man half his age might envy. His Beethoven interpretations seemed to follow traditional lines: respect for structure, dynamics and phrasing; restrained tempi, steady rhythm, and expressiveness without sentimentality. The only exception to this moderation was his penchant for excessive contrast between loud and soft, and for going from whisper to explosion with startling abruptness. In the most forceful moments, the strings sounded positively scratchy, the brass raucous – a distinct departure from the Vienna Philharmonic’s famously pure, mellow tone. Moreover, in Beethoven’s frequent descending two-note figures, Harnoncourt exaggerated the phrasing by dropping the second note to near-inaudibility. The performance’s most pervasive flaw was a lack of orchestral balance, with the winds, especially the brass, consistently overpowering the strings. Though this often happens with today’s orchestras, it came as a surprise here. Generally, though, the playing was as fine as always; intonation, ensemble, and precision were impeccable; every instrumental timbre stood out yet blended into the whole. Concertmaster Rainer Honeck (whose brother Manfred recently became Music Director of the Pittsburgh Symphony), seemed unusually active, leading with vigorous, assertive motions of his whole body.  

Lang Lang played the Concerto beautifully, with charm and a courtly grace free of the exaggerations which sometimes mark his playing. His legato sang; he brought out inner voices usually ignored; his tone was lovely at every dynamic level and full of subtle colors and nuances. Rhythmically flexible but not erratic, the music was sprightly and rippling in the fast movements , simple and expressive in the slow one. Though he reserved his by now legendary virtuosity only for the cadenza, he received a standing ovation; four eager little girls delivered gorgeous bouquets, which he presented to the three women who have cracked the orchestra’s all-male code, tossing the forth into the wind section. Then came the encore: the Finale of Prokofiev’s Seventh Piano Sonata, a marathon of racing, pounding fingers so wild as to be virtually unrecognizable.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Music at the Ballet? Really?

Ballet and Music

Overheard before a performance of American Ballet Theater at the Metropolitan Opera House:  Old lady to usher: “Where can I get one of those infra-red listening devices?” Usher (incredulously): “For the ballet?”  Old lady (indignantly): “There’s an orchestra, isn’t there?”  With another usher’s help, she got her device and departed contentedly, but the incident clearly illustrated the disrespect with which a pit-band is customarily treated. Surely it is the management’s fault that the program lists the orchestra personnel in print so small as to be almost unreadable, and that, though section leaders often play substantial solos, their names are not included in the credits. Audiences are discourteous, talking during musical preludes and interludes and starting to applaud the dancers long before the music stops. But it is the dance critics who show their disdain for the orchestra most blatantly. They usually don’t mention the musicians or the conductors at all, and when they do, it is only to criticize, never to praise them. Obviously, the only people who actually listen to the music are music lovers and fellow musicians, especially those acquainted with the challenges facing a ballet orchestra: the technical difficulties of the scores; the constant alertness required to adjust the music’s demands to the dancers’; and the physical and mental strain of playing eight performances a week.

These reflections were inspired by several visits to American Ballet Theatre’s latest New York season. The repertoire featured some of the most formidable orchestral scores, such as Prokofiev’s “Romeo and Juliet” with its stratospheric string writing; Mendelssohn’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” with its elfin fleetness and delicacy, and Tchaikovsky’s “Sleeping Beauty” and “Swan Lake” with their almost symphonic orchestrations. All include great solos for the principals; those for violin in “Swan Lake” are essentially concerto in length and virtuosity, but even concertmaster Ronald Oakland remained nameless in the program.

The programs also offered very skimpy information about the music itself. For example, the new ballet “Lady of the Camellias” was only described as set to “music by Chopin.” The program did not identify, or even list, the individual pieces, which included several Preludes and Waltzes in their entirety, and a lot of longer and shorter excerpts of different works for solo piano and piano with orchestra, such as the two Piano Concertos, the B minor Sonata, a Ballade, and two Polonaises. This omission left many members of the audience shaking their heads in puzzled frustration.

Performing this musical quilt required two pianists, so the Company invited Koji Attwood and Soheil Nasseri, both excellent players, to share the program. Probably because they were guest artists, they were given full credit in the program, though who played what was not indicated. But perhaps pianists are considered superior to humble pit-band players: the Company’s own fine pianist, Barbara Bilach, was prominently listed when she performed the solo part in Tchaikovsky’s Third Piano Concerto for “Allegro brilliante.”

Those who undervalue the musical dimension of ballet should remember that the music, whether arranged or expressly written for dancing, can stand on its own, while there would be no dancing without the music or musicians to play it.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Musica de Camara String Orchestra

Musica de Camara String Orchestra
Roselin Pabón, conductor
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY
September 25, 2010

Musica de Camara String Orchestra

Musica de Camara was established 31 years ago by the Puerto Rican soprano Eva de la O with a mission to present Hispanic music and musicians in concert. The organization has given several hundred performances in famous venues such as Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center, and in educational institutions, community centers and churches, for audiences who rarely have an opportunity to hear classical music.
This concert presented the Musica de Camara String Orchestra in a program by Spanish and Latin American composers. The Orchestra, founded in 2008, grew out of a smaller chamber ensemble formed several years earlier to give concerts in New York City’s public schools. The present group of about 30 players has continued this commitment, and recently added lecture demonstrations on various aspects of music to its educational activities.
The members of the Orchestra constitute a veritable United Nations. Though they live and rehearse in New York City, they trace their heritage to many countries, including Yugoslavia, Korea, China, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela. For their concerts, they invite guest conductors. This performance was directed by the Puerto Rican Maestro Roselin Pabón, for 30 years Associate Musical Director of the Puerto Rico Symphony Orchestra, Musical Director of the Conservatorio de Musica, San Juan, and a frequent guest with orchestras in Europe and North and South America.
The players, all aspiring soloists, are young, serious, and committed to music; some are still pursuing advanced studies. For example, the assistant concertmistress, Nicole Leon, studies with Itzhak Perlman at the Juilliard School. Their playing was a bit tentative, but time and more performing experience will give them sufficient self-confidence to throw restraint and caution to the wind and give free rein to their natural, youthful involvement and enthusiasm. Concertmaster Francisco Salazar, principal second violinist Luis Casal, principal violist Edmundo Ramirez, and principal cellist Veronica Parrales played a number of solos with vibrancy and aplomb, indicating the group’s high level of talent.
The program opened with Fuga Criolla, a substantial, classical-style Fugue by Juan D. Plaza (1921-1965) from Venezuela. Of the two Danzas Concertantes by Xavier Montsalvatge (1912-2002) from Spain, the slow one had an American, the fast one a Spanish flavor. Aruán Ortiz (b. 1967) from Cuba was present to hear his Perla Caribena; its leisurely melodiousness gave the players a chance to make their instruments sing, as did the lush, sonorous Canambu by Eduardo Gamboa (b. 1953) from Mexico. The Suite for Strings, Op. 115, by Blas E. Atehortua (b. 1943) from Colombia had two fast movements: a rollicking “Scherzo a la valse” and a rhythmic, pungent Finale. Puerto Rico was represented by two composers: Jack Delano (1914-1997), whose Sinfonietta for Strings had a lyrical slow movement and a cheerful fast one, and Guillermo Figueroa (1892-1962), the earliest-born composer on the program, whose Puerto Rican Rhapsody on Themes of Rafael Hernández caressed the ear with its flowing melodies and old-style harmonies. Finally, Michelangelo 70 by the great Argentinean composer Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992), orchestrated by Carlos Rengifo, made a rousing finale, eliciting a standing ovation from the large audience, which had been showing great appreciation throughout the concert. Maestro Pabón responded with an encore: a Puerto Rican Danza, Sara, arranged by Guillermo Figueroa which Johann Strauss could have written on a Puerto Rican vacation.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

South Pacific, by Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein

Live from Lincoln Center
South Pacific, by Richard Rogers and Oscar Hammerstein
Kelli O’Hara – Nellie Forbush
Paulo Szot – Emile de Becque
Danny Burstein – Luther Billis
Loretta Ables Sayre – Bloody Mary
Andrew Samonsky – Joseph Cable
Sean Cullen – William Harbison
Li Jun Li – Liat
Bartlett Sher – Director
Ted Sperling – Music Director
Telecast on PBS Channel 13, August 18, 2010

 

This Rogers and Hammerstein classic, one of the most beloved musicals of all time, hardly needs an introduction. The latest revival, which opened in 2008 and closed a few days after this telecast, won seven Tony Awards and unanimous critical praise, and no wonder: it was an eye- and ear-catching production. Having had two years to grow into their roles, the performers seemed not to play but to inhabit them, yet they had retained their spontaneity and, where appropriate, sense of fun. One of the best things about the show was that everybody appeared to be having a really good time.

The two stars naturally dominated the stage. Kelli O’Hara’s Nellie was all youthful, ingenuous charm (though it seemed strange that she spoke with a mid-Western accent, but sang in unaccented English); Paulo Szot’s Emile was mature and worldly, and he seemed to regard her naiveté with incredulous delight. It was clear that their romance was based on an attraction of opposites. Szot, who recently made his Metropolitan Opera debut in the lead part of Shostakovich’s “The Nose” – in every way a far cry from “South Pacific”– is a terrific singer, able to challenge the never quite exorcised ghost of the role’s creator, the great Ezio Pinza. Other stand-outs were Danny Burstein’s Luther Billis, Andrew Samonsky’s Lt. Cable, and Li Lun Li’s very beautiful Liat. The orchestra was most excellent.

In the course of its long history, “South Pacific” has sometimes been accused of ethnic prejudice because Nellie reacts with horror to the discovery that Emile married the Polynesian mother of his children and because Lt. Cable, though in love with Liat, goes back on his promise to marry her. (We should remember that in James Michener’s stories, which inspired the musical, Emile has fathered many daughters with several native women, but did not marry any of them. One must wonder what Nellie would have thought of that.) Even today, this is a fraught subject, but has not affected the musical’s popularity. To the objective viewer, Bloody Mary seems the “ethnically” most objectionable character: the stereotypically cagey native who sells dubious artifacts to unsuspecting foreigners and lures them to engage in dubious activities. In this production, Loretta Ables Sayre underlined this by emphasizing her raucousness.

Ultimately, the most potent magic of “South Pacific” lies in the music. Those lovely songs, hummable tunes and catchy rhythms make up for any dramatic weaknesses or “politically incorrect” elements. No wonder they are firmly embedded in the public’s ears and hearts. 

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Renée Fleming and Dmitri Hvorostovsky: A Musical Odyssey in St. Petersburg

Great Performances
Renée Fleming and Dmitri Hvorostovsky: A Musical Odyssey in St. Petersburg
Telecast on PBS Channel 13, September 1, 2010

 This “Odyssey” was a feast for eyes and ears. Viewers were guided by the American soprano Renée Fleming on walks through St. Petersburg’s streets and squares and on boat rides on its canals, and were also invited into the magnificent Czarist Winter Palace, Peterhof Palace and Yusupov Palace, in whose glittering theaters and ballrooms Fleming and the Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky presented concerts of songs and operatic scenes.

The music was mostly Russian, but began with duets from two Verdi operas: “Il Trovatore” and “Simone Boccanegra.” The confrontation between Count Luna and Leonora in the former presaged the vocal and emotional intensity that infused the whole program, but stopped before the climactic moment when Leonora secretly drains the poison in her ring, though Fleming actually wore a ring that looked as if it had been chosen for that purpose. The recognition scene between Boccanegra and Amelia in the latter depicts the unexpected reunion of a father with his long-lost daughter; it was an outpouring of joy and love.

 The program closed with the final scene from Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin,” an opera the two singers have performed together at the Metropolitan Opera to great acclaim, and have made their signature collaboration. For this, they used the host palace’s lay-out: the camera followed Hvorostovsky as he hurried up the wide, regal staircase to make his entrance, every inch the impatient lover.

 Needless to say, the singing was wonderful. The performers entered so deeply into their roles that they were able to immediately establish an atmosphere and create real characters, without scenery, props or costumes, using only their voices and personalities. Even if one did not understand the words or know the operas, one could guess what they were singing about. The State Hermitage Orchestra under Constantine Orbellian accompanied them with care and sensitivity, but sounded too discreet and distant.

 Alternating in songs by Rachmaninov, Rimsky-Korsakov, Medtner and Tchaikovsky, the singers adjusted their voices admirably to fit a smaller, more intimate room. Fleming was partnered by the Russian pianist Olga Kern, who recently won the Van Cliburn Competition, Hvorostovsky by his regular pianist, Ivan Ilja. The Bechstein piano they used looked and sounded beautiful. Again, music proved to be the best ambassador and bridge-builder between nations.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Armida (1817)

Great Performances at the MET

Armida (1817)
Music by Gioachino Rossini (1792-1864)
Libretto by Giovanni Schmidt
Production: Mary Zimmerman
Conductor: Ricardo Frizza
Choreographer: Graciela Daniele
Set & costume designer: Richard Hudson
Armida: Renée Fleming
Rinaldo: Lawrence Brownlee
Goffredo: John Osborn
Gernanco: José Manuel Zapata
Carlo: Barry Banks
Ubaldo: Kobie van Rensburg
Telecast on Channel 13 PBS: August 18, 2010

Armida- Renee Fleming and Lawrence Brownlee- Photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

“Armida” is one of Rossini’s less familiar operas. It requires not only a soprano who combines dramatic power with brilliant coloratura, but includes no fewer than six tenor roles (shared in this production by five singers) demanding a stratospheric range, bel canto lyricism and ringing heroics. No wonder it is so rarely performed. Created for Renée Fleming at her request, this new MET production was a vocal and visual bonanza.

The story takes place during the Crusades, but evokes legends of earlier times. Princess Armida is a beautiful sorceress who lures men to her magic island (think Circe) and holds them captive in her luxurious palace (think Venus’ Mountain), entertaining them with music and dancing. This offers opportunities for spectacular scenery and ballet sequences, first by a group of demons with horns and long tails, then by wave upon wave of gorgeously costumed dancers. Armida finds the crusading knights easy prey, but falls in love with Rinaldo, the army’s general, when he succumbs to her spell. He has to be extricated by fervent appeals to duty and honor – unlike Tannhäuser, who abandons Venus because he has become bored – leaving Armida devastated.

The opera begins with a dark, ominous Overture notable for its colorful woodwind solos, performed most impressively by the principal players. Generally, though, the music is not top-level Rossini in invention or originality; indeed, whenever an arresting passage emerges, it bears a definite resemblance to “The Barber of Seville.” The vocal lines are designed primarily for maximal technical display with brilliant, florid ornamentation, not for melodic beauty or delineation of character. Armida, of course, gets the lion’s (or lioness’) share of pyrotechnics, but the tenors are not far behind: they seem to vie for the top notes and most spectacular coloratura. One might almost call the opera “The Battle of the Tenors,” and in fact one of them soon slays another (over an insult, not the highest note).

The singing in this performance was truly stunning. Renée Fleming, whose physical beauty made her a very convincing seductress, sometimes seemed a bit overwhelmed by the sheer length and intensity of her role, but sang with enormous virtuosity and abandon. The tenors dispatched their vocal fireworks with incredible bravura; Lawrence Brownlee made a real character of Rinaldo, the most demanding role musically and dramatically.

For these telecasts, the MET invites one of its stars to introduce the opera, and also to interview one or more of the principals during intermission. This requires stopping tired cast members on their way to the dressing room and subjecting them to usually inane questions about their feelings for the role they are performing – an imposition on the singers, who clearly yearn to be left alone, rest their voices and concentrate on the next act. Fleming could hardly contain her impatience to get away, though, although in an earlier telecast, she herself had interviewed Simon Keenlyside, a hot and weary “Hamlet,” who was reacting in exactly the same way. Could these interviews not be taped at some time other than during the performance? Though this might cause some loss of immediacy, it would save the singers – and many empathetic viewers – a lot of discomfort.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Mostly Mozart Festival

Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra
Louis Langrée, conductor, Stephen Hough, piano
Carolyn Sampson, soprano, Sasha Cooke, mezzo-soprano
Steve Davislim, tenor
Concert Chorale of New York, James Bagwell, Director
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
August 20, 2010

Stephen Hough-Photo Credit: Christian Steiner

The Festival dedicated its final concert to the genius for whom it was named with an all-Mozart program: the Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, K.467, and the Cantata “Davidde penitente,” K.469, both written in 1785. The Cantata is not performed as often as it deserves. It was written at the request of a Viennese charitable Artists’ Society devoted to looking after the widows and orphans of musicians. Mozart was a member of the organization and had promised to compose a choral piece for a benefit concert, but was too busy to create a major original work, so he took parts of his own unfinished C-minor Mass and just added two new arias. He used an Italian text based on the Psalms of David, said to have been provided by Lorenzo da Ponte, his later librettist. Thus, the music is vintage Mozart, with many grand choruses using complex counterpoint, and extraordinarily difficult arias that would not be out of place in any of his operas. The soprano goes up to high D’s and E’s and engages in spectacular vocal acrobatics; the tenor has a long “scene” with almost equally demanding coloratura passages. The soloists at this concert did nobly, but could not conceal hints of struggle. The chorus was wonderful; Langrée handled his large forces admirably.

Sasha Cook-Photo credit: Christian Steiner

The C-major Piano Concerto became famous because the slow movement was used in a film called “Elvira Madigan;”  many people became familiar with it who would never have heard the concerto. It is one of Mozart’s sunniest, most beautiful works; its tunes are simple but can be endlessly developed; the solo part is brilliant; the scoring includes timpani and a full complement of winds. The lovely slow movement shows Mozart at his most romantic, the Finale at his most playful. Stephen Hough played it with ease, elegance and expressiveness; he used his own stylistic, effective but unostentatious cadenzas. His encore, Schumann’s “Träumerei,” was properly dreamy but a bit too free.

Carolyn Sampson-Photo Credit: Nina Large

The orchestra was in top form all summer, but the balance favored the winds and percussion under every conductor. Under Langrée, the timpanist frequently entered a split second too early, especially at the beginning of a piece; later, he seemed to settle into the beat. The concerts were very well attended, and it was a pleasure to watch the unstinting enthusiasm with which the audiences gave standing ovations to the orchestra and all the conductors, demanding encores of practically every soloist. Another observation was more troubling: the number of wheelchairs, crutches, walkers and canes seems to increase not only every year, but also in the course of a single season. In a way, though, this may be encouraging: it indicates that more and more people with disabilities are determined to participate in New York’s cultural life and enjoy its abundant offerings.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Mostly Mozart Festival

Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra
Louis Langrée, conductor
Joshua Bell, violin
Jeremy Denk, piano
Pre-Concert Recital: Joshua Bell and Jeremy Denk
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
August 18, 2010

 

Joshua Bell-Photo credit: Bill Phelps

This No-Mozart, all-Romantic program was one of the Festival’s best. It opened with Weber’s Overture to the opera Der Freischütz and closed with Schumann’s Symphony in D minor No. 4, Op. 120, in the revised 1851 version. In between, Joshua Bell, Jeremy Denk and the Orchestra’s string section played Mendelssohn’s Concerto for Violin, Piano and Strings in D minor, the second Festival program featuring two major works in the same tonality. Written when the composer was 14 years old, the Concerto is not top-notch Mendelssohn and is only infrequently performed, but it is full of youthful romanticism, exuberance, and the promise of future greatness. The soloists reveled in the brilliant passage-work, alone and together, tossing off the long runs in parallel thirds with easy virtuosity and perfect coordination; Bell’s pure, expressive tone cast a silvery radiance over the lovely melodies. The Orchestra, under-employed except for the Introduction, offered discreet support, and everybody had a grand time.

The performance of the Weber and Schumann indicated that Langrée harbors a romantic soul under his penchant for cool, speedy, almost vibratoless Mozart. He encouraged the musicians to surrender to the passionate ardor of the music using their warmest, most intense sound, and they responded whole-heartedly. The Overture overflowed with vigorous energy without getting hectic; the strings sang out, the wind solos were wonderful (those Freischütz horns!).

Schumann cast his fourth Symphony in his favorite “Fantasy” form, with its four contrasting movements  melting into each other. Originally composed in 1841, it was actually his second symphony, but its negative reception caused him to put it aside. Ten years later, having written two more symphonies, he revised it, refining the transitions between the movements and adding a lot of doubling to the orchestration – a decision that has remained controversial: the texture gains substance but loses transparency. Langrée used the second version; while he could not save the sound from becoming murky at times, its richness made up for the lack of clarity, and he brought out the character and changing moods of the music: the vitality of the fast sections, the poetry and romanticism of the slow ones, the assertive robustness of the Scherzo.

Mozart visited his Festival at the Pre-Concert recital, when Joshua Bell and Jeremy Denk played his “big” B-flat Major Sonata K.454, written in 1784, the first of his last three great violin and piano sonatas. Though Avery Fisher Hall is hardly the best place for intimate chamber music, the performance was admirable. Frequent partners, the two players have achieved an extraordinarily high level of ensemble; they took over each others’ lines, calibrating the sound for relative prominence, built on each others’ dynamics, tonal and expressive intensity, and created a true “conversation between friends.” Their subtle interplay was even more impressive than their dazzling collaborative virtuosity in the Mendelssohn Concerto. 

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY