Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Song/Play in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Song/Play in Review

Florida Symphony Youth Orchestras; Hanrich Claassen, Symphonic Conductor and Florida Symphony Youth Orchestras Music Director
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Cristian Grases and Francisco J. Núñez, Composers/Conductors
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
June 24, 2018

 

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) continued to celebrate its tenth anniversary with the final concert before autumn: “Song/Play,” a treasure trove of music made by youths of all ages and stages of musical development and education. Their Premiere Project also produced notable two world premieres on this occasion. The presence of over 350 singers in the massed choirs, mostly domestic, but some from as far away as China, Finland, and Ireland, and their families in the audience guaranteed an exciting, supportive atmosphere.

The afternoon began with a ravishing display by the Florida Symphony Youth Orchestras and their uncommonly musical, lyrically sensitive conductor, Hanrich Claassen. All the principal players (in fact, all the players) were first-rate, with burnished, plush strings and confidently played winds. The first work was Reflections on the Hudson by a San Francisco-based composer, Nancy Bloomer Deussen, whose work was previously unknown to me. As with most good program music, it portrays the composer’s inner feelings while contemplating the great river, without slavishly illustrating it in music. Its gauzy meditative quality was beautifully rendered by the group, and the middle “busy” section had some nice imitative counterpoint.

The Symphonic Dances, Op. 64, by Edvard Grieg, based on Norwegian folk melodies, followed. These well-known works had dozens of mature details all fantastically worked out by  Mr. Claassen and his team. They gave a truly “hot” reading of music from a “cold” climate. No. 2, Allegretto grazioso was my personal favorite, but all four were excellent. These students are so lucky to have such guidance at this stage in their lives. The look of ecstatic listening and participation on the face of the first cellist, Maxwell Remmer, was priceless. The rapture that younger players have immediate access to has not been bred out of them by routine. May it never be!

After intermission, two composer/conductors, both of whom I have reviewed previously in these pages: Cristian Grases and Francisco Núñez, each with a world premiere. Mr. Grases was given a really young choir to work with. His work, La Cigarra y La Hormiga, set a fable about a carefree partying cicada and an industrious ant (like Aesop’s ant and grasshopper) in a sort of cantata form, with all movements flowing right into each other. Mr. Grases wisely mixed rhythmic speech with well-crafted homophonic vocals to get the large amount of text covered expeditiously. The work, based on pan-Latin dance influences, could have used more variety at times, and it seemed too long. The clever instrumentation was a little too heavy, sometimes covering the large children’s choir. The message is a good one: the ant is generous with her food when the cicada comes over in the cold of winter. Each learns something from the other: that a satisfying life is neither “all work” nor “all play.” Then it was Mr. Núñez’s turn with a mostly older (high school age) group: a selection of his choral music, also including his premiere: Liminality, a complex four-movement work about an abstract idea, standing on the “threshold” of a new state of being but not quite “in” it yet. The third section, My Shadow, My Soul was gorgeous, with a wonderful soprano soloist from inside the choir. Naturaleza was a hymn to the beauty of the earth. Forever Is My Song imitated an indigenous Philippine musical gong, the kulintang. The day closed with the rousing Es Tu Tiempo, an exhortation to remember to dream and dare, sung by slightly “older” young people to those coming after them. Mr. Núñez’s use of percussion and the orchestra is inventive and satisfying, though he also over-orchestrated just a bit, leading to some balance and understandability issues. The DCINY orchestra was its usual fine self.

“Take a chance to dream.” Good advice indeed.

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Jason Sia in Review

Jason Sia in Review

Jason Sia, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
Thursday, June 21, 2018

 

In the movie business, summertime is blockbuster time, so why should it be any different in the recital business? California-based pianist Jason Sia evidently thinks so, as he programmed a string of famous warhorses, with a few oddly sophisticated fellows thrown in. A small turnout listened intently. The results were decidedly mixed for this reviewer.

Let me begin with Mr. Sia’s strengths: he has a beautiful piano tone (not so easy to achieve), and a generally lyrical sense of line that is very fluid. On the flip side: he didn’t breathe, everything was rushed, he lacked a true technical command of these fiendishly difficult musical icons, he overpedaled, he had memory problems (it’s okay to use the score!), he had a curiously uncomfortable stage presence, he lacked charisma, he seemed curiously uninvolved most of the time, and he was reluctant to resolve dissonance into consonance, one of the important hallmarks of musicality. Perhaps nerves got the better of him.

Lest I seem too cranky, let me single out the pleasing moments from the program, and there were some! The Rachmaninoff/Schultz transcription of the 18th variation from Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini, Debussy’s Rêverie (despite a thumping pedal foot), and the Gershwin/Wild song-etudes (The Man I Love, Embraceable You, Summertime) were all played with sensitivity and style, and Clair de lune had good atmosphere, if lacking a bit in accuracy. The Schubert/Liszt Ave Maria had excellent voicing amid the millions of notes, the Wagner/Liszt Liebestod was played orchestrally rather than vocally, which one could make a case for, and  Debussy’s L’Isle joyeuse had moments of great sensitivity and color, though again, technical control was shaky.

Elsewhere, there were senseless amputations of Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 27, No. 2 (sloppy, dynamically incorrect, and the second movement  omitted),  the Chopin Heroic Polonaise (just shorten the difficult left-hand octave section- maybe no one will notice), and the iconic Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue (begun in the middle at the lyrical theme, and played sloppily to its conclusion). This shows a strange lapse in taste, which was contradicted by Mr. Sia’s elegant playing from time to time. Ravel’s Ondine from Gaspard de la nuit, a frightening encyclopedia of nasty technical things, was mostly improvised, though I sensed that Mr. Sia’s spirit was in the right place. Liszt’s famous Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 was spirited but slapdash.

Mr. Sia’s biography states a commitment to avant-garde music. He even won three awards for it, so I wondered why there wasn’t any on his program. I don’t wish to discourage Mr. Sia, I’m sure he brings great enjoyment to his followers, but when programming the “greatest hits” of the instrument, it is wise to be truly relaxed, carefree, and able to execute them accurately, as well as with individuality.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents The Sacred and Profane: Carmina Burana in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents The Sacred and Profane: Carmina Burana in Review

William C. Powell, Guest Conductor
Rosephanye Powell, DCINY Composer-in-Residence, Narrator, and Soloist
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra; Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra; Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Penelope Shumate, soprano; Dillon McCartney, tenor; Keith Harris, baritone
David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center, New York, NY
May 28, 2018

 

I originally expected to have one experience on Monday at this DCINY concert, but wound up having quite another—this is good. It is hard to upstage the eternal crowd-pleaser that is Orff’s Carmina Burana, whose first chorus is used to sell everything from cars to post-apocalyptic scenarios, but Rosephanye Powell’s Gospel Trinity came very close. The Orff was also given a thrilling read.

Rosephanye Powell turned David Geffen Hall into a gospel church service with the New York premiere of her Gospel Trinity, less an explanation of than a physical celebration of the “three incarnated in the Godhead,” the traditional doctrine not only of Catholic theology but some Protestant ones as well.

Perhaps from a compositional standpoint, the musical content of the Gospel Trinity is somewhat simplistic. It is very approachable, borrowing from extant hymns and standard gospel gestures, but in the hands of Ms. Powell, who also served as narrator and stunning soloist, the Holy Spirit inhabited the hall, and the music led to an experience beyond itself.

Ms. Powell’s voice ranged from baritone low notes to stratospheric high notes and every color in between, all of which were produced with beauty and fervent energy. The massed choirs were conducted with swinging enthusiasm by her husband William C. Powell. The choral body swayed freely, and clapping and other responses were perfect. The entire score was presented from memory, and it contains a great deal of improvisatory spirit. The two Powells exhorted the audience to clap and testify, and the spiritual frenzy mounted—a great manifestation of faith.

In his excellent program note for the Orff, Joseph Kahn states: “If there were a contest for the composer with the most despicable character, Carl Orff would definitely make the finals.” Orff’s own daughter said: “He did not really love people; if anything, he despised people unless they could be useful to him.” Hitler’s minions lionized him, and he did nothing to assist friends who were being rounded up. Eventually, he was “de-Nazified,” officially classified as “gray acceptable” (an upgrade), and he did devise a system of musical instruments in use to this day for the development of early-childhood musical potential. Ultimately, one separates the man from his artistic production.

Under Artistic Director and Principal Conductor Jonathan Griffith, the enormous assembled forces navigated this score with complete assurance, even ease, making all its rhythmic shifts and faux-primitivism seem utterly natural. The three soloists were all top-of-the-line. Baritone Keith Harris had the most to do, and he colored his sections with just the right amount of acting, especially in the bibulous tavern scene. The baritone part is often cruelly high, but he was completely in control. Penelope Shumate, who I’ve reviewed previously in these pages, was radiant in her high-flying Dulcissime, a high D sounded nowhere near the top of her capability. She also gave a charming “look,” full of implicit pleasure, to concertmaster Jorge Ávila as he performed the metric shifts of the Tanz. Her In trutina had a lovely hushed eroticism, virtually banishing memories of Streisand, who recorded it in the 1970s on Classical Barbra in a kind of tranquilized perfection. The tenor, Dillon McCartney, has only one solo, but what a doozy it is! The Roast Swan (Olim lacus colueram) scene, in which the poor bird recounts its own cooking, lies at the outer-space regions of high notes, and once again, Mr. McCartney sounded born to sing it.

The chorus work was world-class, from whispered threats to full-glory exultation, with clear diction in all the ancient languages represented. All the wind and percussion playing in the huge pick-up orchestra was excellent. I have mentioned previously that I think it’s a shame for these players not to be credited. I only mention concertmaster Ávila because I happen to know his name.

Some of the content of these scabrous medieval doodlings is quite “adult,” and I wondered how (or if) the children and other younger singers were educated about what was going on. I guess I’m giving away my age, for today’s young people see and experience so much more than we did when I was young, including the thrill of a major New York concert.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Vocal Colors in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Vocal Colors in Review

Distinguished Concerts Singers International
J. Reese Norris, Eric Barnum, Conductors
Jennifer Rushton, Kristen Kemp, Pianists
Richmond Choral Society and The Arcadian Chorale
Marina Alexander, Director, Ahram Lee, Pianist
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
May 25, 2018

 

While thousands of New Yorkers were busy fleeing the city for the Memorial Day weekend, hundreds of dedicated choristers, their conductors, families, and friends were flocking toward Carnegie Hall, for the fourth annual Vocal Colors presentation by DCINY (I have reviewed them previously in these pages- Vocal Colors 2017 & Vocal Colors 2016). As Lisa Young’s thulele mama ya says: “Don’t worry, Mama.” Well, mamas will probably always worry, but reviewers needn’t worry about the quality of these events. Once again, the dedication, cooperation, communal spirit, and positive message of choral music showed all its energy.

 

The program was divided into three sections, one before intermission and two after. The first section had an all-female choir, conducted by the esteemed J. Reese Norris, of whose compositions a generous helping was presented. All the selections were performed from memory, an outstanding accomplishment in itself. If there was a sort of sameness to the sound due to the tessitura of young women’s voices, it was relieved by strategically placed (uncredited) instrumental obbligati: light percussion, guitar, cello, with the piano as base. The linking of hands near the end of Jacob Narverud’s Sisi ni moja (We are one) provided a powerful counterpoint to its message, especially in an age becoming inured to mass shootings. Norris’ own Paper Crane (Heiwa), inspired by Hiroshima, had his signature powerful “zoom” ending. His wedding present for his own wife, We Sing of Love, using parts of the Song of Solomon, was lovely. All the works were beautifully prepared and executed.

 

After intermission, another leader in American choral music, Eric Barnum, conducted his group in his own contemplative compositions: Afternoon on a Hill (Millay), and A Thousand Red Birds (poems by Oakes, Bode, and Porter), where soloist Nathan Krueger’s contribution to In the Silence was perfect, as the observer of snowfall. Mr. Barnum concluded with two works he feels belong together as aspects of the same thing: Evensong and Den blomsterid nu kommer (The time of blossom now comes), keen observations of the natural world, captured in music.

 

Then came conductor Marina Alexander with her own groups: The Arcadian Chorale (NJ) and Richmond Choral Society (Staten Island). After a brief, energetic Norwegian Alleluia by Kim André Arnesen, a real neglected masterpiece was given, by a Swedish composer whose work was previously unknown to me (shame on me!): Otto Olsson, who died in 1964. His Te Deum was composed in 1906. What a glorious, powerful setting of this hymn of praise! It certainly deserves to be heard every bit as much as the Berlioz, Verdi, and Bruckner settings. Transcendent beauty, indeed.

 

Well done, colorful vocalists!

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Mason Gross School of the Arts and The Douglas and Inyoung Boyd Foundation present Americans in Rome in Review

Mason Gross School of the Arts and The Douglas and Inyoung Boyd Foundation present Americans in Rome in Review

Americans in Rome in Review
Featuring Faculty, Students, and Alumni of Rutgers University
Min Kwon, Artistic Director and Curator
Min Kwon, Warren Jones, Enriqueta Somarriba, pianos; Kaitlyn Davis, Sonya Headlam, sopranos; Andrew Moore, bass-baritone
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
May 7, 2018

 

For some years now, the Mason Gross School of the Arts at Rutgers has sent its best faculty, students, and alumni to New York each spring for a celebration of their talent at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. Their programs are always thoughtfully conceived around a theme: this year’s was “Americans in Rome,” composers who benefited from a fellowship of some sort at the American Academy in Rome. Three iconic Americans, one lesser-known American, and one young Italian composer were all represented.

Perched atop its hill on the Vatican/Trastevere side of the Tiber River, the American Academy is a haven for creativity of all sorts, not just music: visual art, architecture, literature. (The French winners of the Prix de Rome (since the first recipient, Berlioz) are housed at the Villa Medici at the top of the Spanish Steps on the other side of the river.)

The program focused on Leonard Bernstein (this year is the centennial of his birth), Samuel Barber, and Aaron Copland, along with two world premieres composed specifically for pianist Min Kwon. She met the respective composers in Rome last year. What a cornucopia of entertainment they presented.

Ms. Kwon and her student Enriqueta Somarriba opened with a brash, perfectly coordinated rendition of Bernstein’s Music for Two Pianos, written just for pleasure while he was a student at Harvard at age nineteen in 1937. In it, we already hear his preoccupation with jazzy content, and a foreshadowing of the fourth of Copland’s Four Piano Blues (1948). In her excellent oral program notes, charmingly delivered before each section of the recital, Ms. Kwon stated that Bernstein considered Copland (eighteen years his senior) his “only composition teacher.” Apparently, influence goes both ways.

Then Andrew Moore, a warmly expressive bass-baritone about to earn his Masters of Music degree from Rutgers this spring, sang Lonely Town from Bernstein’s On the Town, and two of Copland’s Old American Songs: Simple Gifts and At the River. His tone was beautifully produced, and his diction fantastically clear. He radiates unpretentious sincerity, and his large fan club showed him the love.

On this recital, I did feel that Copland got shortchanged, with just the two songs above representing him. I would have loved to hear Ms. Kwon and Ms. Somarriba (or Warren Jones) play the Danzon Cubano, or a section or two from Rodeo.

Then came the two world premieres. Italian composer Vittorio Montalti was in attendance for his haunting Solo (the title refers not only to a musical work, but the Italian word for alone), given a fiercely concentrated performance, which did not neglect beautiful sound, by Min Kwon. The work, which deals with solitude (“singing in the desert”) begins with a very high keyboard cluster played so softly that one can only hear the “wood” of the key hitting the key-bed, this ostinato grows in intensity and volume, like a cosmic clock ticking, and repeats this growth in two cycles. Meanwhile, the left hand plays a fragmentary melody that “goes nowhere” in octaves. A few deep bass notes accompanied by filigree that would not be out of place in Messiaen are added. (I’m pretty sure Montalti did not mean to write a “distended” piece, as his program note states.) Solo shows a composer with a real ear for the possibilities of keyboard color.

Ms. Kwon followed this with her second world premiere, Jonathan Berger’s Il Beccafico (a Roman warbler). In this charming programmatic piece, a bird annoyingly torments the concentration of the would-be composer, who is trying to recall bits of nineteenth-century piano repertoire at the piano in his studio, while the bird keeps intruding. Rather than use descriptive “real-life” imitations of the warbler, Berger cleverly turns its cries into psychological birdcalls within the frustrated head of the composer. Apparently, this happened not only in Rome, but also when Berger returned to New York. Ms. Kwon again proved herself to be a superb advocate for contemporary piano music.

The first half closed with the well-known Symphonic Dances from Bernstein’s West Side Story, arranged for two pianos by John Musto, and played gorgeously by Ms. Kwon and Ms. Somarriba.

After intermission, Ms. Kwon was joined by legendary collaborative pianist Warren Jones for two pieces from Barber’s Souvenirs for piano duet, Op. 28 (1952). Barber himself said that they were meant to evoke the aura of the afternoon teas at the Palm Court of the Plaza Hotel. The two movements played were the Waltz, with its swooning melody and flirtatious ending, and the Hesitation Tango, with its attraction/repulsion, and the ecstasy of the major-mode “love theme” and its “hesitation.” I have heard smoother, suaver renditions of the waltz, but I enjoyed it because of their enjoyment. Ms. Kwon and Mr. Jones visually displayed not only their affectionate collegiality, but the salon charms of the work. I would have loved to hear the entire set!

Sonya Headlam took the stage with Min Kwon for the four songs of Barber’s Op. 13. They are so different, as Ms. Headlam explained, but they are unified by an implicit presence of “woman” at varying stages of life and experience. Ms. Headlam has a light lyric voice with a fast vibrato. She communicated her complete involvement with each text and character very well, but Barber requires a bit more power and width in the middle-to-low passages, and clearer diction. The Secrets of the Old was a bit too fast to allow the humor to be understood. Ms. Kwon’s playing of the double-canon in Sure on this shining night (what the voice sings in the first half is the piano melody of the second part and vice versa) was ravishing. With Barber, rigorous structural details like this are so deftly tucked into a beautiful melodic/harmonic texture that they can go unperceived until pointed out.

The program concluded with a “mini” version of Bernstein’s Candide, with three selections played at two pianos by Ms. Kwon and Mr. Jones: the Overture, I Am Easily Assimilated, and Bon Voyage. I did miss the words on “Assimilated,” the poignant humor is so crucial. Then Kaitlyn Davis sang the showpiece Glitter and Be Gay (with Mr. Jones) in an appropriately hammy, humorous, and sleazy way, all the while removing an array of jewelry baubles from her décolleté and putting them on her fingers, wrists, neck, while singing!

As an encore, the three singers joined Mr. Jones for a fervent rendition of his own arrangement of Somewhere from West Side Story. Bravi to all.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Wa Concert Series presents Celebrating Winds in Review

Wa Concert Series presents Celebrating Winds in Review

Charles Neidich, Artistic Director
New York Woodwind Quintet:Carol Wincenc, flute/piccolo; Stephen Taylor, oboe, English horn; Charles Neidich, B-flat clarinet, E-flat clarinet; Marc Goldberg, bassoon, contrabassoon; William Purvis, horn
Tenri Cultural Center, New York, NY
May 4, 2018, 7:30 PM

 

One of the great delights of the New York concert season has been my discovery of the Wa series, now concluding its first year. This is truly the “caviar” of chamber music series, with its carefully curated repertoire, emphasizing unusual or neglected composers and pieces, not to mention the lavish hand-crafted menus served before, during, and after the performances, created by artistic director Charles Neidich’s wife, Ayako Oshima.

There was so much wind-superstar power in one room that it took my breath away! Better mine than theirs, however, for they would need every ounce of it to play this difficult program. In the case of musicians on this level, there was never even a hint of strain or difficulty.

The evening began with a selection of Elizabethan lutenist John Dowland’s secular dances, transcribed by hornist William Purvis, who is passionate about this period of music. He deftly and simply explained the concept of “broken consort” to the audience. The music emerged in all its eloquence, with Lachrimae Antiquae a particular highlight.

Richard Wernick’s name and music were new to me on this occasion. He was in attendance, and explained that at “his age” (Mr. Wernick is 84) he decided to compose only what he wished (not to deadlines) and only for friends, preferring to envision “faces instead of clefs” at the beginning of each stave. Thus, his friends the New York Woodwind Quintet gave the world premiere of his Quintet No. 2, a work that makes use of the color palette of the winds to differentiate the strands of counterpoint. They played the work brilliantly, clarifying every texture. Mr. Wernick’s use of klangfarbenmelodie (sound-colors melody), in which the same pitch is repeated by (or traded to) another instrument was remarkable for the way in which the transfers were subtle: one could hardly tell where one instrument began and the other left off.

Then came Elliott Carter’s second wind quintet, Nine by Five, a work completed on his 101st birthday (!). The title refers to the nine instruments played by the five members, each one doubling on another instrument (except the horn). The scenario is one of conversation/argument/ignoring/togetherness, as of actors on a stage, and again these players dramatized every moment of this raucous mini-play.

After intermission came a curio, about which I was initially anxious. How can a string quartet, essentially an intimate form for four players, be transferred to a more “public” type of ensemble, and expanded to five players, without betraying some of its substance? My fears were unfounded, as somehow I expected they would be. Once again, Mr. Purvis displayed his perfect taste-level in his rendering of the Mendelssohn String Quartet No. 2 in A minor, Op. 13. This work, begun in July 1827, has a motto that quotes from a June 1827 song Frage (Question), the question being “Ist es wahr?” (Is it true: that a secret admirer asks the moon and stars about him?) This is due to the eighteen-year-old Mendelssohn’s crush on Betty Pistor, a member of the Singakademie for whom Mendelssohn was the accompanist. Mr. Purvis explained how Mendelssohn fuses the motto technique inspired by Beethoven’s last quartet with the contrapuntal wizardry inspired by Bach. There are numerous references to various late works by Beethoven in each of the cyclic movements, which Mendelssohn wrote about: “the relation of all 4 or 3 or 2 or 1 movements of a sonata to each other and their respective parts, so that one already knows the mystery that must be in music.”

The performance was transcendent, with transparency preserved and the lightning fast “elfin” Mendelssohn interchanges among the instruments every bit as light as when heard on strings. Naturally, the work gained a bit of heft, particularly in the lower lines, but it became its own work of art, as Mr. Purvis said “because it’s so darn fun to play.” Carol Wincenc inhabits another universe of flute playing, inaccessible to mere mortals, but she was not alone in this regard. Mr. Purvis’ muted horn pronunciation of the fugue subject in the second movement was a paragon of subtlety, with the sighing affect ever so poignantly shown. As always, Mr. Neidich was in that alternative universe of perfection too, as were Stephen Taylor and Marc Goldberg.

As an encore, they offered another Purvis transcription, of a Gesualdo madrigal, another of Mr. Purvis’ passions: Moro, lasso, al mio duolo (I die, alas, in my suffering), the chromaticism of which would not be encountered again until Wagner in the nineteenth century.

Mr. Neidich stated that the concert series for next year will be made known very soon. A word to the wise music lover: Run, don’t walk, to this series.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Center for Musical Excellence presents Heegan Lee in Review

The Center for Musical Excellence presents Heegan Lee in Review

Heegan Lee, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 24, 2018

 

Normally, when I see the words “prodigious musical savant” I get a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. So often, things do not turn out well for prodigies. This unease was largely put to rest by Heegan Lee after the first few notes of the Andante from the Cello Sonata in G minor, Op. 19 (transcribed by Arcadi Volodos), the first Rachmaninoff transcription on his recital: liquid phrasing, sensitive rubato, a beautiful piano sound at all times, and technique to burn. Mr. Lee was a different kind of prodigy: At age fourteen, he (purportedly) “learned the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto [I assume the first] by ear after hearing it but once on a DVD.” He then continued to learn other works by the Romantics in much the same way. He went on to earn Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees from Manhattan School of Music.

For an official debut recital, there was not enough variety for this reviewer to fairly assess the quality and range of this artist, though he obviously has many virtues in place already. Min Kwon, who introduced Mr. Lee, said we’d hear his love for the piano, and we did. He took the stage with a surprisingly sober demeanor for such a display-oriented player.

I must begin with the second half of the recital, which was a handful of “New Age” (Mr. Lee’s words, not mine) piano music, as arranged by Mr. Lee, by Yiruma (the stage name of Korean composer and pianist Lee Ru-ma), Kevin Kern, and Mr. Lee himself. In his oral remark before playing, Mr. Lee said he chose them to avoid what he called the “monotony” of the typical recital. I’m sorry he feels that way, since there are tens of thousands of varied piano works, very few of which he seemed compelled to perform on his debut. Something tells me he didn’t learn Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier by ear after one hearing. Every one of his arrangements sounds exactly the same, with the same arpeggiation, climax, and left hand cross-over high note. Yiruma’s River Flows In You, and Kiss the Rain are so much prettier and more eloquent in his (Yiruma’s) own solo piano version “without cosmetics,” so to speak. I’m sorry to be so rough, but maybe one piece would have sufficed to show Mr. Lee’s talent in this direction.

The first half of the recital contained his best playing, despite its lopsided structure. He played two Rachmaninoff transcriptions (one by Volodos, already mentioned, and the other, Vocalise, by Earl Wild) and two short original works. All were given the red-carpet treatment, and his affection for beautiful piano sound was in abundant evidence. I have heard cleaner performances of Rachmaninoff’s Moment musical (Op. 16, No. 4) and Prelude (Op. 32, No. 10), but his emotional involvement and technical fearlessness drew the listener in. The Prelude was mannered, but the Moment was exciting in an impetuous way. The best performance of the evening was his Vocalise, in which he “out-Wilded” Wild.

The Chopin group did not stray far from unabashed warhorses: the Fantaisie-Impromptu, the Revolutionary Etude, and finally a deep work that demands maturity, the F minor Ballade. All contained successful fluidity of fingerwork, but strangely, they began to sound like transcriptions too. I found myself wondering why this bothered me so much. After all, isn’t everything we perform a transcription? We take in the “dots” the composer gives us and process them through our hearts and intellects, our physical gifts, and our nervous systems, and then deliver our “transcription” of the piece. Mr. Lee’s pianistic point-of-view doesn’t seem to change much with the change of piece.

The Fantaisie-Impromptu’s outer sections were daringly too fast for clarity, but they worked. Only in the famous I’m Always Chasing Rainbows melody of the middle section did Mr. Lee seem reluctant to truly vary the color of the many repeats, which I thought he’d be doing lavishly, based on the Rachmaninoff. The Etude was, again, too fast for rhythmic clarity, but impressive if such things impress one. He also changed the concluding run to a vulgar interlocking octave showpiece that, strangely, is easier than Chopin’s original unison run for both hands. In the F minor Ballade, there was a rather slapdash approach side-by-side with great emotional involvement, some exciting rubati, even some intimacy. He displayed very individual ideas (this is good, no “cookie-cutter”) and a big temperament, but the piece could have used more elegance.

None of this fazed the large, enthusiastic crowd, and he gave as an encore an elegantly done Tchaikovsky/Volodos Lullaby, Op. 16. No baby is going to be lulled to sleep during that lullaby!

A debut recital ought to present a calling-card to the musical community, one that shows as many facets of the artist as possible. I know there is “more” within Mr. Lee, and I hope he persists, finds it, and then shares it with us.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Wa Concert Series presents Schubert Masterworks in Review

Wa Concert Series presents Schubert Masterworks in Review

Charles Neidich, clarinet
Smithsonian Chamber Players- Vera Beths, Cynthia Roberts, violins; Steven Dann, viola; Kenneth Slowik, cello; Anthony Manzo, double bass; Andrew Schwartz, bassoon; William Purvis, horn
Tenri Cultural Center, New York, NY
April 21, 2018

 

Clarinetist Charles Neidich impeccably curates a gem of a concert series called Wa (circle, harmony, completeness) at New York’s Tenri Cultural center. Not all of the important musical events in a city as rich in them as New York take place in the “big” venues. Each Wa concert also comes with hand-crafted snacks before the concert and dinner with wine after, made by Mr. Neidich’s wife Ayako Oshima ,herself an accomplished clarinetist. On this occasion, Mr. Neidich enlisted the services of one of the nation’s eminent chamber groups: the Smithsonian Chamber Players, to perform a single masterwork: Schubert’s epic-sized Octet in F major, D. 803.

 

Commissioned by clarinetist Ferdinand Troyer, the Octet was composed in March 1824. The work was premiered at Archduke Rudolf’s home by many of the same musicians who played Beethoven’s Septet. Schubert goes Beethoven one better by adding an additional violin to the instrument group. The Octet’s length was noticed even in 1824; it runs at least one hour depending on repeats, and led Stravinsky (as related in the very complete oral program note by cellist Kenneth Slowik) to say that he “didn’t mind if he occasionally fell asleep during a work by Schubert, since I know I am waking up in Paradise.” After all, isn’t listening to an hour of Schubert better than updating your Instagram feed?

 

These players gave a triumphant reading of the piece, full of sensitive detail and shaping, with full emotional commitment and harmonic direction. In the case of the Octet, as with most of Schubert, remote keys are visited with such rapidity and fluidity that it can all pass by too easily unless the performers make real events from them.

 

I’m tempted to say: “There are only two kinds of clarinetists: Charles Neidich, and everyone else.” Perhaps this is unfair to the many great players out there, but every time I’ve heard Mr. Neidich this season, I come away with the same stunned revelation of superb lyricism coupled with supernatural breath control. He possesses that nearly untranslatable German quality of Innigkeit (inwardness, combined with emotional intensity). He also has a great deal of wa.

 

Mr. Neidich’s assembled team plays period instruments (or faithful modern copies), and this immediately solves any vexing problems of balance, leaving the way open for the players to focus on inspiration, which they possess in abundance. Particularly enjoyable were the contributions of Anthony Manzo, double bass, whose visual involvement with the group was a delight, and bassoonist Andrew Schwartz, whose tone was so mellow I often had to glance around the group to make sure it was coming from him. All played with the highest possible level of musicianship. For an “occasional” work, this score abounds in tricky material, and no player is spared from great technical challenges, all of which have to sound effortless. Vera Beths and Cynthia Roberts handled the violin parts beautifully, and violist Steven Dann had the most delightful pizzicati. Cellist Slowik played with immense lyricism and William Purvis handled the peril-prone valveless horn with his customary aplomb. Ultimately it was the magic created by Mr. Neidich that ruled and was especially heartbreaking in the second movement, appropriate since the work was commissioned by a clarinetist.

 

At the beginning of the last movement, we hear what Alfred Brendel calls “the trembling of the syphilitic” dramatized by the ensemble, a window into Schubert’s lifelong “Todesahnung” (presentiment of death), especially poignant since he was just re-entering musical and social life after a spurious mercury treatment for his syphilis. The melodic fragment heard over the tremolo strongly resembles one of Schubert’s Schiller settings: Die Götter Griechenlands (The Greek Gods, 1819), which opens with the line “Schöne Welt, wo bist Du?” (Beautiful world, where art Thou?), the entire Romantic period summed up in one line. The entire “trembling” episode then serves merely as the introduction to a foot-stomping folk-like song/dance that had numerous audience members vainly resisting to tap their feet.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
SubCulture presents Ian Hobson: Sound Impressions: The Piano Music of Claude Debussy & Maurice Ravel- 6th in series

SubCulture presents Ian Hobson: Sound Impressions: The Piano Music of Claude Debussy & Maurice Ravel- 6th in series

Ian Hobson, piano
SubCulture, New York, NY
April 18, 2018

 

 

Ian Hobson concluded his six-recital series of the complete solo piano music of Debussy and Ravel with his finest playing of the season. His customary technique did not fail him, but he added elements of dynamic control and total emotional involvement that rendered many moments simply breathtaking. I have reviewed the first, third, and fourth recitals previously in these pages, and I have been quite firm with Mr. Hobson because I believe “French is in the details,” but on this occasion, I had no reservations. The program consisted almost entirely of valedictory pieces, the last works of each composer, with one relatively early work by Debussy. The common threads: the only toccata by each composer, music inspired by wartime, and neo-Baroquism.

 

Mr. Hobson began with Debussy’s “updated Baroque” homage, the suite Pour le piano (1900/01), giving it one of the finest renditions I have ever heard live. The energy of the opening Prélude was fierce, and he respected the very long pedals requested by Debussy, which I have heard other pianists try to “neaten up,” thereby falsifying an important part of the color. Then came the Sarabande, a slight revision of an earlier work, redolent with the influence of Satie. Here Mr. Hobson became revelatory, with a mournful, dignified tempo and gorgeous chord balancing. Of course, his reliable nimble fingers gave us the perfect Toccata.

 

He followed this with two little-known Debussy gems from very late in his career: the haunted Élégie, a charity piece for a series on “Women and War,” and the Pièce pour l’oeuvre du “Vêtement du Blessé, written for the WWI relief organization, “Le Vêtement du Blessé” (The Dressing of the Wounded). Debussy, who was mortally ill with the cancer that would kill him and sick at heart with the violence of war, often wrote of the impossibility of composing music in such a time, yet he persisted. Both works were played with total sensitivity.

 

Mr. Hobson then presented Ravel’s final solo piano work, Le Tombeau de Couperin, a tombeau being a Baroque musical honoring of a departed colleague: here the pretext is not only Couperin, but the entire French eighteenth century, one of Ravel’s favorite idealized pasts. Ravel heightens the elegiac content with dedications to friends killed in World War I: one friend per movement, except the Rigaudon, which is dedicated to childhood friends of Ravel, Pierre and Pascal Gaudin, from Saint-Jean-de-Luz, killed by the same shell on November 12, 1914. It was their first day at the front. Their mother’s name syllabified, Ma-“rie Gau-din,” inspired the punning dedication of the Ri-gau-don. The Prélude spun its imitation harpsichord web with perfect delicacy and beautiful voicing. Hobson’s Fugue was a marvel of contrapuntal clarity (the only fugue in Ravel’s published oeuvre, its keyboard layout is confounding and awkward) and the ending vanished into heartbreaking silence. The Forlane and Rigaudon had great energy, with the middle section of the latter bringing the sense of loss firmly into our awareness. The Menuet was perfection, particularly in its final coda-like page that dissolves into a dissonant trill. Only in the Toccata (another awkward series of nightmare problems for the pianist to solve) was I aware of any slight technical struggle, yet Mr. Hobson’s unflagging momentum and his total emotional commitment made it the shattering yet triumphant ending it should always be. Ravel himself served in the war (enlisting at age 41), witnessing the horrors while driving a dilapidated truck; truly his fallen colleagues are transformed in this remarkable work. Their lives were not sacrificed in vain.

 

Mr. Hobson then played Debussy’s truly “last” work for solo piano, a barely-there two pages discovered in 2001, titled Les Soirs illumines par l’ardeur du charbon (Evenings lit by the glowing coal), ironically found among the possessions of a Parisian coal merchant who made sure that Debussy’s home stayed warm—there were such critical shortages of coal during World War I. The title is a line from Baudelaire’s Harmonie du soir, which Debussy had set as a song for voice and piano in 1887/89. The music browses freely from snippets of his earlier works of all periods and ends almost before it begins, which does not lessen its heavy air of nostalgia.

 

Mr. Hobson finished with what many consider the greatest set of Etudes since those of Chopin, Debussy’s two books of six each, containing fiendish technical challenges, all of which must stand in the service of the most sophisticated musical ideas. Each one was given the perfect treatment, just a few highlights: the fourths and sixths were magic, and the first five of book two were mesmerizing in their variety, all perfectly done. Debussy turned to the abstract as an escape from the hideous realities with which he had to deal, yet for those who listen intently, one can hear distant horn calls and barely suppressed violence even in these elegant works.

 

This was an immense achievement (I mean not only this recital but all six), and it brought the proper attention to a repertoire that, while “popular,” is not programmed often enough. Bravo, Ian, and come back soon.

 

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Viola Sings: Noree Chamber Soloists, NYC Concert Series III in Review

The Viola Sings: Noree Chamber Soloists, NYC Concert Series III in Review

 Yoon Lee, Yi Qun Xu, artistic directors
Yoon Lee, piano; Stella Chen, Bela Horvath, violins; Sung Jin Lee, Caeli Smith, violas; Aaron Wolff, Mariko Wyrick, Yi Qun Xu, cellos; Yi Hsuan Chiu, double bass
Church of the Blessed Sacrament, New York, NY
April 12, 2018

 

The Noree Chamber Soloists gave a good program April 12th at the Church of the Blessed Sacrament that featured the viola in various prominent roles. For me, the terms “chamber” and “soloist” don’t really belong together, their two aesthetics opposed, but perhaps I’m just being cranky. These young players are all obviously in command of their instruments, playing with musicality of a high order. Any reservations I have I will attempt to clarify in the details below.

The evening began with a beautifully phrased account of Mozart’s well-known Piano Concerto No. 23 in A major (K. 488), in which the soloist and artistic director Yoon Lee showed fleet scale-work, utterly even runs, and poetry when needed, despite the inferior instrument on which she had to perform. I did feel that it sounded “denatured” without the ever-so-important wind parts. Perhaps K. 414 (No. 12, the “other” A major) would have been a better choice, since Mozart himself arranged it for piano and string quartet. The strings sounded well, but I would have preferred greater inflection in phrase direction; I thought the acoustics of the large cathedral space were “eating details,” so to speak. I would have liked to hear more from Yoon Lee, but this was her only contribution to the evening.

A very good rendition of Ligeti’s solo viola sonata by Sung Jin Lee followed. It uses Rumanian folk-sources and their characteristic quarter-tone bending to tell its story. No matter how well one explains the pitch bending, it remains difficult for ears that are not culturally accustomed to hear it as anything but “out-of-tune”. It was certainly not in this case.

Yoon Lee, Pianist

All the works were preceded by verbal program notes, which I enjoy, but the speakers need to project their voices so all might hear them clearly, especially in such a reverberant space. The lack of printed program notes, a lamentably common event in New York of late, seemed especially wrong given the unusual repertoire presented.

Next came an excellent rendition of Derek Bermel’s Soul Garden, for viola and string quintet, with Caeli Smith as soloist. Mr. Bermel delivered his own program note, stating that he conceived the viola as a sort of “gospel baritone,” and the bluesy flavor of the solo part was perfectly done. The difficult ensemble accompaniment was especially ethereal.

After intermission, Brahms’s String Quintet No.1 in F major, Op. 88 was given a strong, committed reading, one that flowed with liquid enthusiasm, appropriate for this mostly sunny score. Phrasing, direction, and many details were all carefully worked out, though I wished for more “growing” when, for instance, a note is played syncopated and held while a new harmony appears underneath it. It is too easy to play one’s instrument so well that the sense of yearning, so crucial to Romantic period music (especially Brahms), can be minimized, removing an important dimension from the music. Also, as often happens in such an acoustic, the lowest sonorities tend to disappear, and I felt the cello part needed to compensate more for that. Sung Jin Lee was the excellent “singing” first viola. Stella Chen on first violin, and cellist Yi Qun Xu were also wonderful, which is not to ignore the contributions of the others at all. These musicians will mature even more if they remain together, but their starting level is already high.

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY