Frank Daykin | New York Concert Review, Inc.

Mateusz Borowiak in Review

Mateusz Borowiak, piano

Merkin Concert Hall at Kaufman Center, New York, NY

Sunday, November 5, 2017 8PM

A stunning display of profound musicality and musical profundity took place in the first of Mateusz Borowiak’s epic three-recital series at Merkin Concert Hall, the venue of his US debut. When I first saw advance notice of the series, presenting the complete piano sonatas of American composer Louis Pelosi, two per recital, coupled with three of the major etude cycles—all twenty-four Chopin, all twelve Debussy, and Rachmaninoff’s Etudes-Tableaux, Op. 39, I thought “This guy is either a foolhardy daredevil, or one of the great pianists.” After this first recital, I’m inclining to the latter.

Mr. Borowiak calls the presentation of the Pelosi works a “world premiere.” Perhaps it is for all six together, but I recall hearing Donald Isler perform the Sonata No. 1 a few years ago. No matter, it is certainly a noteworthy occasion in anyone’s musical calendar. Pelosi, who makes his living as a piano technician, calls himself a “tonal contrapuntist.” He believes in one “central tone” that dominates the proceedings.

I was going to compare Pelosi to Chopin, if Chopin had died 150 years later, with a dose of Anatoly Alexandrov, but that would be unfair to Pelosi. He is an original. His music is very brooding and gestural, favoring imitative counterpoint, with difficult, intricate piano textures that utilize the whole keyboard. He accomplishes all this without sounding neo-Baroque. Pelosi certainly has an ideal advocate in Mr. Borowiak, a pianist of serious demeanor and great concentration, who wore white tie and tails—one doesn’t often see that these days. The two have collaborated before, on a recording of preludes and fugues by Pelosi.

This recital opened with Pelosi’s Sonata No. 4, and closed with his Sonata No. 6, framing the complete Chopin etude sets of Op. 10 and Op.25. Both sonatas were rendered from score with clarity and expressiveness, even in the thickest murky textures. Pelosi seems to speak of tragic things, immense things, and his use of what I call “seeking and finding” in evaluating various contrapuntal outcomes leads him to his own seeking and finding of interior emotional states, which he generously shares with the listener. The music requires intense concentration, which is the least we can do when someone creates such material. Just when you think it’s perhaps a bit too discursive, it breaks into a sort of consoling song-like episode, then it turns to a jittery fugue. The works hold together because of superb thematic unity, and very often they are cyclic—themes from earlier in the piece return later in the work.

The Chopin Etudes were revelatory. Tempi in the fast ones were very fast, yet one never felt that Mr. Borowiak was at the outer limit of what he was capable technically. His lyrical playing was melting and passionate. He even managed to find flexibility, elasticity, and a certain flirtatiousness amid the welter of notes. Was it my imagination, or did the E-flat minor, Op. 10, No. 6, sound “Pelosi-like” in his hands? Really, all of Op. 10 was great, with perhaps two miscalculations: No. 10 needed more variety in the articulation, however it was completely convincing; and No. 12, the celebrated “Revolutionary,” was exciting but harsh (but certainly passionate!). I wrote “wow” next to No. 8, this was one instance of the flirtatious quality. Remember, Cortot said: “The Chopin Etudes are as inaccessible to the virtuoso without poetry as they are to the poet without virtuosity.” I imagine Cortot would have been pleased, for Mr. Borowiak possesses both.

The Op. 25 set was even more successful overall, if that is possible, a matter of degree. The pieces were stitched together into a sort of compelling narrative by Mr. Borowiak, from the delicacy of No. 1, “Aeolian harp,” to the feather light No. 2, with excellent attention paid to the left hand, the “not obviously difficult” one. His playful leggiero in No. 3 was breathtaking, and his incredible double thirds in No. 6. Again, only in the octave etude, No. 10, did I feel that he miscalculated the sound in the room, but it is a violent piece, and the middle section was gorgeous. I could go on, but this will have to suffice.

I can’t wait for the next installment!

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

Carnegie Hall presents China NCPA Orchestra in Review

Lü Jia, Music Director and Conductor

Haochen Zhang, Piano

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 30, 2017

An exciting, successful concert was given on Monday night by the orchestra of China’s National Centre for the Performing Arts. This seems to me to be an unbilled youth orchestra, for the ages of the virtuosic players appear to be late-teens to mid-twenties. Even their excellent conductor is younger than average, as conductors go. I did not hear one single flub of a note, even in the treacherous horn (and other wind) parts. The strings make a luscious warm sound that would be the envy of any orchestra; and these players not only play their instruments beyond reproach, but their interpretations are full of real passion.

The first work, Qigang Chen’s Luan Tan, in its US premiere, was most effective for me in its early minutes, where the persistent click of the temple blocks really seemed authentic and mysterious. (Unfortunately, it was marred by a very noisy group of people who were in the reverberant hall just outside the auditorium.) The title of the work refers to a style of Chinese drama in the 17th century, one that was rowdy and boisterous, rather than based on decorum. Later, the work veered into what I would call “Debussy 2.0” (the late Debussy of Jeux), not surprising in a student of Messiaen. The piece built and built relentlessly, until I began hearing the influence of another French composer, Ravel, in the annihilating crescendo of his Bolero. Luan Tan even ends with a similar closing figure to Bolero. The frenzy was beautifully conveyed by the group.

Haochen Zhang, pianist

The next work, I will admit, I am not predisposed to like at all, was the totemic Yellow River Concerto. It is a four-movement work adapted from an earlier cantata, and it is so derivative in its bombast that I just can’t take it seriously. The whole thing sounds like bad Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, Dvořák, and even Stephen Foster at times. I don’t see why such an important symbolic work should sound so “Western.” Even the pentatonic folk tunes on which it is based are stereotypical of what’s bad about imperialism, bound to major-minor tonality. I do apologize to any Chinese folk who think I am stupid or narrow-minded; I am not. The Yellow River is a “mother river” symbol, and as such, is very important to the Chinese. I first heard the work played by Lang Lang at the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. Since Lang Lang injured his left arm through over-practicing Ravel’s left-hand concerto, he was replaced here by Haochen Zhang. It is therein that the magic begins- this pianist was simply superb. He was the gold medalist at the 2009 Van Cliburn competition, and has since made a good career for himself.

Mr. Zhang drew me right in, despite my considerable reservations about the piece. I simply cannot recall the last time I heard a pianist of such quality and poetry. Every phrase was effortlessly dispatched, and lyrical passages sang with unbelievable poignancy. Also, on a less profound note, his repeated notes (in imitation of a Chinese wind instrument) were gasp-inducing; and he played this whole thing with sobriety, and with none of the theatrical facial contortions one has come to expect from Lang Lang. After his glorious ovation, he returned for a well-deserved piano solo encore: Chopin’s Lento con gran espressione (Nocturne) in C sharp minor, Op. posth. (1830). It passed by in a ravishing, delicately melancholic dream-state, the effusion of a very “old-soul” pianist.

After intermission, the orchestra gave a fully charged reading of Sibelius’ best-known and loved symphony, the Second, Op. 43 (1901/02). Sibelius’s lonely grandeur and constant questing were given ample space and time to occur. (The only finer performance I’ve ever heard was by Leonard Bernstein.) The deep, full-throated string tone was stunning, with a great sense of pull and elasticity, and the winds were perfect. The pizzicati in the second movement were perfectly together and expressive. The symphony gave rise to many conflicting opinions in the early 20th century, some not-so-favorable—people who were used to clear structural cues were disoriented (though they are present). I always think it’s wiser to feel the climaxes, those typical events in which Sibelius’ cosmos just seems to end, followed either by silence, or a renewed sense of either faith or optimism. These are the events that are his structure, and they were powerfully rendered by this orchestra under their superb conductor.

After the Sibelius, the orchestra performed two encores- Bamboo Flute- Tune, by Yuankai Bao, and Brahms’s Hungarian Dance No. 6.

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

Sohyun Ahn: J.S. Bach “Goldberg” Variations BWV 988 in Review

Sohyun Ahn, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

October 8, 2017

Unmatched in contrapuntal science and expressive power, the Goldberg Variations are one of the definite “Mount Everests” of the pianist’s world. Sohyun Ahn gave a fully expert, involved reading of the work. Her recent Mozart CD was already reviewed in these pages, and I can attest that she has mastered what I call the “slender tone” that makes performances of Baroque and High Classical music on a modern piano successful.

Her approach worked best in the very fleet movements (Variations 5, 14, 17, 23, and 26, for example). She did not over-ornament anything, even in the repeats, all of which she observed. I think of her performance as very “Age of Enlightenment,” in that everything was balanced and rational. This is not to say that there was no emotion, far from it, but it was tempered in the service of the big picture, which in this case, is quite big. The entire set flowed out of her in a very natural way, for which I was greatly appreciative—this is not easy to achieve in music of such complexity.

One of the most terrifying things about a piano performance of the Goldberg Variations is that it was conceived for a two-manual (two-keyboard) instrument. The task of sorting out all the possible collisions and hand-crossings deters all but the most fearless. Here, Ms. Ahn was an absolute master, and I really didn’t see any rearrangement, only flexibility and comfort.

If I wished for anything, it would have been a greater sense of tragedy in the three minor-key variations, especially No. 25, which should really give the feeling of time having stopped in contemplation of something vast.

As mentioned in the Mozart review, Ms. Ahn does have a tendency to rely too much on echo effects for repeats. Variety can also be achieved with color change and touch alteration, which she sometimes did. Charles Rosen strongly objected to echoes ,except where specifically called for, saying that he found them emasculating.

After the humor of the Quodlibet (Variation 30: “Cabbages and beets kept me away, had Mother cooked meat, I would have come,” an example of the Bach family humor) and the sublime reappearance of the Theme, there is really nothing more to be said. Thus, I found it a bit shameless and not quite in good taste for Ms. Ahn to present the Mozart “Duport” Variations, K. 573, as an encore. She played them repeat-free, and displayed her considerable strengths: crystalline sound and precise, rapid fingers; but after the Bach, even the great Mozart just seemed trivial. That’s just me. Everyone leapt to their feet for well-deserved ovations after both works.

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

The Art of Listening in Review

The Art of Listening- Chopin: Scherzo No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 31

Javor Bračić, piano

National Opera Center, New York, NY

October 8, 2017

Mr. Bračić, has created a series and a format that aim to “change the way you think about classical music.” Based on my experience this past Sunday, I’d say he’s well on his way as a persuasive music educator, and he is a very capable pianist. The series has been reviewed favorably elsewhere in this journal.

When I saw the repertoire choice, Chopin’s Scherzo No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 31, my immediate reaction was “Oh no, not that warhorse,” but my worries were unfounded. He is one of only two pianists I’ve ever heard who played the opening theme in the proper “questioning” way that Chopin was always asking for—and with no rhythmic distortion. The other pianist was the estimable Krystian Zimerman. Because of his fleet fingerwork, many passages also seemed more “playful” (scherzando) than usual. As Schumann said: “It remains an utterly compelling piece; one could compare it to a poem by Lord Byron: so tender, coquettish, and affectionate—yet so full of scorn.”

He began by dividing the work into its major sections and giving a sort of gentle exegesis of Chopin’s process and possible meanings, but his engaging, soft-spoken manner, and his ability to involve the audience created an ease that drew everyone right in, regardless of their prior music education or experience. Everyone’s input was valued, there was never any condescension or feeling of “this way is right and that way is wrong.”

After a full exploration, he then concluded with a complete performance, very well-rendered, especially after having talked for nearly an hour. Not everyone has this double ability to speak well about music while remaining a super executant, but Mr. Bračić, definitely has it. I see that a future event will focus on Samuel Barber’s Sonata for cello and piano. This is to be commended, as the more “modern” repertoire needs even more advocacy.

I should mention the format was gracious too (despite the limiting piano quality of the National Opera Center, which Mr. Bračić, took in stride with no apparent difficulty): the audience mingles and chats, with wine and cheese served both before and after.

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

Non Profit Music Foundation presents Eduardo Frias in Review

Eduardo Frias, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 3, 2017

A disappointingly small audience turned out for what proved to be a well-played evening of contemporary Spanish piano music, about which, however, I had some reservations.

Eduardo Frias has made himself a champion of the piano music of Jorge Grundman, whose complete works for piano (up to 2016) were played on this occasion. He has worked side-by-side with the composer on developing this music, and he has also recently recorded them on Sony Classical.

Mr. Frias has an uncannily beautiful sound, especially at the softer dynamics, piano all the way down to ppppp. He never loses expressivity, and understands the nature of rubato. At the few louder moments in the program however, his sound grew strident. He used scores for the concert, yet did not deliver a “note-perfect” rendition of all the works, especially in those rare instances when the music got a bit rambunctious, breaking out of its gauzy moderato softness.

The music of Mr. Grundman was previously unknown to me, and since this is a rare and precious event in the life of a busy reviewer, I was looking forward to hearing it. He calls himself a “music writer” rather than a composer, whatever that means; and he has written chamber music and operas, besides this piano output.

Unfortunately, the piano music all sounded extremely similar: poignant, lyrical, and mournful, but too often with predictable formulae and cliché gestures. There were a few melodic moments that were compelling, but the main interest is in the harmonic changes. Mr. Grundman sounds like a neo-romantic composer combined with a minimalist (perhaps with more heart, but less craft).

In his mission statement, taken from his own website, he states: “I am sorry because there is nothing new in the music I write and, moreover, it was not even my intention. This might be the reason why I prefer to say that I consider myself a writer of music more than a composer. I just try to tell stories through the music narrative. I do this in the simplest, almost naive way possible. However, if there is something that leads me when I start writing a piece, it is to avoid communicating something tiring and boring. I want people to find my music sentimental and moving and also, as far as possible, to fancy listening to it again. I am talking about being accessible to the listener and the performers. In other words, I do not write for composers.”

I agree that he accomplishes nearly everything he said. The music is indeed sentimental, and sometimes quite moving. I just don’t feel there is enough strength on the compositional side to make it enduring. His justifications are numerous, all in this direction, and he claims humility as his start- and endpoint, but that seems like a defense. (Critics have been wrong many times before!) His titles verge on maudlin, though they must come from a very sincere place (Who Remembers Beauty When Sadness Knocks at Your Door? and We Are the Forthcoming Past).

Despite the attenuated Alberti-bass figure in Mozartiana, there was very little of either homage or even pastiche in it. The same was also the case for Haydiniana. Only in Chopiniana was the overt shadow of Chopin’s Etude Op. 10, No. 12 (“Revolutionary”) evoked, a bit heavy-handedly. These three pieces comprise the “Genius Suite for Sara.”

Of the four Piano Fantasies, I found Will Not Remove My Hope to be the most successful. The Lullaby for the Son of a Pianist had an appealing wistfulness, making ample use of Mr. Frias’s gorgeous whisper-soft playing.

For me, and I’m certainly willing to admit that I was not on the wavelength of this composer, Mr. Frias should lavish his talent on music that is of higher quality. From the first notes he played, I was immediately reminded of some of the sonorities of Giya Kancheli or Arvo Pärt. I wish him success in his performing career.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Canta! Canta! Canta! in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Canta! Canta! Canta!
Cabrillo Symphonic and Youth Choirs, Cheryl M. Anderson, conductor
Ensemble Monterey Chamber Orchestra; Cabrillo Symphonic and Youth Choirs, John D. Anderson, conductor
Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Francisco Núñez, composer/conductor; Kristen Kemp, piano; Steve Picataggio, percussion
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
June 26, 2017

The final choral offering of the 2016/17 season presented by Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) fell into two highly contrasted halves, musically and culturally, the whole making a complementary and enjoyable evening.

The first two offerings were by Latvian composer Ēriks Ešenvalds, who has become highly sought after in his field. His music evokes natural and cosmic vistas with beautiful use of accessible diatonic tunes, tone clusters, soaring descants, and good quality texts. The Long Road is a Latvian poem (sung here in English translation) about a young woman whose lover she has lost to war, she yearns for their reunion but realizes that that may constitute a “long road.” As conducted by Cheryl M. Anderson, the radiance of the music perfectly underscored every line of text, which was rendered crystal clear by the large choir.

Then followed the New York premiere of what one might term an “environmental” piece: Mr. Ešenvalds’ Sunset in My Hand: Ancient Voices of the Wild Pacific Coast. The work was extremely effective at portraying the moods of the sophisticated poems (by Teasdale, Neruda, Gioia, Steinbeck, Jeffers, and an anonymous Franciscan monk) as each one of them contemplates a different aspect of nature, hence reflecting upon themselves too. John D. Anderson led the group beautifully. One of the movements, Prayer at Winter Solstice, contained a slow-ticking metronome, with which the choir was deliberately supposed to sing “out-of-sync” to show the difference between measured time and “felt” time. This was the only problematic movement for me, as the metronome interfered with the gorgeous choral output. My personal favorite was Evening Ebb, a meditation at sunset on the ocean shore. Its rising and falling palindromic cluster chord repetitions were stunning. The inclusion of an Ohlone chant (the indigenous tribe of the San Francisco/Monterey region) in the final section, I Hold the Sunset in My Hand, was a nod to California’s colonial history.

My only suggestion to Ēriks Ešenvalds would be to create more variety of tempo in his otherwise transcendent output. Everything sounds very stretchy, like slow floating. I would have liked to hear this central-California coastal group cut loose in something with a bit more rowdy energy.

After intermission, Francisco J. Nuñez took the stage with his own renowned Young People’s Chorus of New York City, part of a composite group that included many other children’s choirs from across the US. Mr. Nuñez is a recipient of the prestigious MacArthur Foundation Fellow “Genius” grant, and has devoted his life to the creation and commissioning of quality accessible choral materials for children, works that will teach not only musical skills (while providing enjoyment) but also moral precepts such as diversity, strength, and faith.

His set was mainly of shorter “fun” pieces like the traditional Spanish song De Colores (colors of the rainbow and sounds of animals) and Pinwheels (joy of young people spinning and turning), but the Misa Pequeña Para Niños, an abbreviated Catholic Mass setting in Spanish was a novelty to me—its tiny dimensions coordinating with the children singing it. Four young soloists with great self-possession fulfilled the brief solo parts nicely. May I also note that the choir’s diction was clear as well, an accomplishment not so easy to achieve. An uncredited duo, one playing flute/piccolo/clarinet, the other violin, added excellent evocative sonorities to the piano and percussion.

The concert concluded with a rousing performance of La Sopa de Isabel (Elizabeth’s soup), a merengue that involved all manner of eurhythmic clapping, stomping, turning, etc. Mr. Nuñez’s sheer joy in this work was front and center, his hips grew ever looser with each repetition, and it was clear how much the children enjoyed working with him and he with them.

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

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

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

Charlotte Symphony Youth Orchestra (NC); Ernest Pereira, Director

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Cristian Grases, Guest Conductor

María Guinand, Guest Conductor

Alberto Grau, DCINY Composer-in-Residence

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Saturday, June 17, 2017, 7 PM

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented an intriguing mix of French-“Spanish” music, music by Spaniards who studied in Paris, and one Spanish-born composer who has spent most of his life in Venezuela, working with young musicians.

The Charlotte Youth Symphony, ably conducted by Ernest Pereira, began with Chabrier’s evergreen orchestral rhapsody España, already so ubiquitous in its time (1883) that it was parodied by Satie a generation later as Españaña (1913). The players’ youthful enthusiasm was equaled by their instrumental ability. The notorious fortissimo outburst of the trombones made its (unintentionally?) humorous mark.

They followed with the Act II ballet music from Massenet’s opera Le Cid (1885). “Beginning of Act II ballets” were an onerous requirement for composers, so that members of Paris’ ultra-elite Jockey Club could have their intermission dinners (or clandestine affairs) and make it back to the opera house without missing anything of the actual opera. The five short sections reflect different regions of Spain, with appropriate musical symbols that represent the Frenchman’s “idea” of Spain, an obsession ever since Bizet’s Carmen (and even before) that would continue into the masterworks of Debussy and Ravel.

Then came two shorter works by Spanish composers who studied in Paris in the early twentieth century, where they were encouraged by their professors to develop their own nationalistic voices rather than try to recreate the sounds of “Impressionism.” Manuel de Falla’s Ritual Fire Dance, from his ballet El Amor brujo (Love, the Sorcerer, 1914/15) is a musical exorcism that has not lost its hypnotic power, and it was well-played here. Turina’s Orgia (Danzas fantasticas, Op. 22, 1919), an Andalusian farruca (dramatic flamenco dance usually performed by men), is preceded in the score by a line from the novel that inspired the work: “The perfume of the flowers merged with the odor of manzanilla, and from the bottom of raised glasses, full of the incomparable wine, like an incense, rose joy.” All of this was enjoyably audible in the performance.

After intermission came two works by the Spanish-born Alberto Grau (b. 1937), who has spent most of his life in Venezuela developing high-quality choral works for children’s choirs. Venezuela is of course noted for its astonishing music education program El Sistema, which has produced the conductor Gustavo Dudamel, among many others.

The first work, La Doncella (The Maiden, 1978), is a short fable about a girl whose beauty wins over the sun, moon, and stars, when other, wealthier suitors are rejected by them. Mr. Grau’s characteristic shifting metrics enlivened the score, and they posed no problem either to orchestra or choir, conducted by Cristian Grases, a student of Mr. Grau. An English-language narration was provided on stage, very expressively, to illumine the suite of dances.

During the switch-out of choruses, a brief interview was held with Mr. Grau and his wife Maria Guinand (the next conductor on the program) who translated charmingly for him.

Then came the World Premiere of La Avispa Brava (The Angry Wasp), which Mr. Grau puckishly claims is autobiographical, though that is hard to believe. It is a moral fable about the insect (i.e. person) who is so consumed by anger that she cannot escape from a house that has all its windows and doors open. She falls into a glass of water “so small even a mosquito could save itself from it,” but our angry insect instead rages and drowns. Ms. Guinand’s supportive, energetic touch kept the extremely young singers in line, with more of the complicated rhythms, and lots of eurhythmic activity: clapping, stomping, vocal whooshes and slides. There were charming “group solos” and all the choristers were wearing insect antennae, wings, and various costume details. Were they musically “perfect” at every moment? Of course not, but what valuable exposure they are getting at such a young age.

The message of La Avispa Brava is a valuable one, not only for children’s growth and maturity, but for the adult world as well, as Ms. Guinand suggested during the interview.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Sancta Civitas & Dona Nobis Pacem: The Music of Vaughan Williams in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Sancta Civitas & Dona Nobis Pacem: The Music of Vaughan Williams

Nina Nash-Robertson, Guest Conductor; Latoya Lain, soprano; Eric Tucker, bass-baritone

Craig Jessop, Guest Conductor; Kerry Wilkerson, baritone

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

June 11, 2017

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented a marvelous afternoon concert devoted entirely to the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams, with two infrequently heard works, one of which was a Carnegie Hall premiere. The first piece was the cantata Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace). Those words come from the Agnus Dei section of the Mass. However, Vaughan Williams makes use of three poems written just after the Civil War by Walt Whitman, and a portion of a mid-nineteenth century British political speech to intensify his fervent appeal for an end to senseless human conflict. Vaughan Williams enlisted in World War I (at age forty-two, mind you) and drove ambulances in France, Belgium, and Greece. He saw plenty of carnage, and was forever affected by it. The Dona Nobis Pacem was premiered in 1936, when Europe was only a few years from yet another conflagration.

Nina Nash-Robertson led the excellent Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and the composite choir (she got to bring her “home choir” from Michigan in addition to the others) in a performance that was brisk and always bracingly transparent even when the choral and instrumental writing gets complicated. The choir was thrilling in the forte sections, and very good at the softer ones too. The soprano soloist, Latoya Lain, had a gorgeous voice, with deep sincerity of expression and a wonderful variety of colors—she reminded me of a combination of what is best about Leontyne Price and Jessye Norman. The baritone soloist, Eric Tucker, was more successful in the second of his major solos: The Angel of Death, where his stentorian quality fit the mood. I didn’t feel that he found the tender sadness of Reconciliation, in which Whitman realizes, as he looks at his dead enemy’s body in the coffin, that he is “a man as divine as myself,” tenderly kissing the brow of the departed. The Dirge for Two Veterans was heart-rending, wherein a mother looks down, in the form of moonlight, on a funeral procession for her husband and son, killed on the same day. When the moon appears, the shimmer of string sound was magical.

Men don’t ever seem to learn the lessons of warfare in any lasting way, but Vaughan Williams believed that artists had to be messengers of hope.

After intermission, Jonathan Griffith, the co-founder of DCINY and its principal conductor, presented the DCINY Educator Laureate award to conductor Craig Jessop, who led the next work, Sancta Civitas (The Holy City), a Carnegie Hall premiere. In his remarks, Mr. Jessop said how much he learned from Robert Shaw, one of his choral mentors. Indeed, he had a “Shaw-like” quality to his own conducting that made this apocalyptic vision from Revelations even more intense. To name but one of his many accomplishments- Mr. Jessop led the Mormon Tabernacle Choir from 1999 to 2008, earning many Grammys in the process.

The main choir was on stage (Mr. Jessop also had his “home choir” from Logan, UT, as one of the composite), a divided balcony choir was on either side in the front of the hall, and the “distant” choir (and trumpet), Vaughan Williams’ specification, was all the way at the back of the hall, though it could have used some more acoustic “distance” of the sort provided by the great British cathedrals. The spacial distribution worked like a charm. The concertmaster, Jorge Ávila, was radiant in his personification of the human soul ascending in the And I Saw a New Heaven section, which sounded a lot like a less-ornamented “cousin” of Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending. Mr. Ávila had also been perfect in the Reconciliation movement of Dona Nobis Pacem. The English horn and trumpet solos also were sensitively done. Baritone soloist Kerry Wilkerson rendered all his interjections beautifully, with clear diction and mellow “British” tone.

“Babylon the great is fallen” cried the chorus, and my mind went to the many cities in Iraq (and elsewhere) that have shared the same fate. Another Dona Nobis Pacem moment.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) and The Tyler Clementi Foundation present Portraits of Healing: Tyler’s Suite and the Music of Ola Gjeilo in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) and The Tyler Clementi Foundation present Portraits of Healing: Tyler’s Suite and the Music of Ola Gjeilo

James M. Meaders, DCINY Associate Artistic Director and conductor

Ola Gjeilo, DCINY Composer-in-Residence, piano

Tim Seelig, Conductor Laureate

Stephen Schwartz, DCINY Composer-in-Residence

Michael McCorry Rose, Special Guest Artist

Andrew Caldwell, tenor; Steve Huffness, bass; Nancy Nail, mezzo-soprano; Keilan Christopher, tenor; Jorge Ávila, violin; Carl Pantle, piano

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, Distinguished Concerts Singers International

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

June 4, 2017

Talk about a concert with a mission! Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented the very moving New York premiere of Tyler’s Suite, a work commissioned by the Tyler Clementi Foundation in 2012 (the 2014 world premiere was in San Francisco) to honor the memory of the eighteen-year-old college freshman who committed suicide nearly seven years ago, due to intense, vile, cyber-bullying. We will get to that work , which comprised the second half of the concert, later.

The concert opened with four choruses by the Norwegian-born composer Ola Gjeilo, an eminence in the field, despite not yet having reached age 40. Even their texts seemed to relate to Tyler Clementi. For me, the standout was Dark Night of the Soul, from the poem by St. John of the Cross, the Counter-Reformation mystic whose sacred raptures border on the erotic. “One dark night,/fired with love’s urgent longings/–ah, the sheer grace!–/I went out unseen,/my house being now all stilled,” for example. Mr. Gjeilo is what I call a “maximal minimalist,” at times sounding like a descendent of Philip Glass, but with much greater access to emotion, and much more romantic. The Dark Night was preceded by The Ground, a reworking of a portion of Mr. Gjeilo’s Sunrise Mass that had a beautiful three-note “Brahmsian” motive. Then came the phoenix legend reconsidered beautifully in Across the Vast, Eternal Sky. Finally, a counterpart to Dark was provided by the Luminous Night of the Soul, words mostly by Charles Silvestri, but with the inclusion of more St. John of the Cross. The composite choir was excellent, with absolutely stunning blends, surely the achievement of the conductor; the composer himself was the pianist, along with the strings of the Distinguished Concerts orchestra. Mr. Gjeilo’s sensitive rendition of the extended piano interlude in Luminous Night was breathtaking.

DCINY, Tyler’s Suite Dr. Timothy G. Seelig, Conductor Laureate
Stephen Schwartz, DCINY Composer-in-Residence
Carl Pantle, Piano

After intermission came the main event, Tyler’s Suite– a collaboration among nine of today’s most celebrated composers: John Bucchino, Ann Hampton Callaway, Craig Carnelia, John Corigliano, Stephen Flaherty, Nolan Gasser, Jake Heggie, Lance Horne, and Stephen Schwartz, with the libretto by Pamela Stewart, Mark Adamo, and Joe Clementi. Jane Clementi, Tyler’s mother, was introduced by composer Stephen Schwartz (of multi-Broadway show fame). I don’t understand how any mother (or parent, sibling, or friend) can ever truly “heal” from such an immense loss, however, she spoke with great composure and passion about the need for kindness and an end to bullying (online and offline), harassment, and humiliation. The family started the Tyler Clementi Foundation in the hope that their worst nightmare would not have to happen to anyone else. Tyler’s father even collaborated in part of the libretto.

The work is in nine sections, with a violin solo prominent (due to Tyler Clementi’s talent on that instrument), piano, SATB choir, and soloists. There was one lighter moment in The Unicycle Song, about Tyler’s ability to play the violin while riding, you guessed it, a unicycle. The points of view of mother, father, and brother were all represented in this collaborative work, whose composers aren’t identified by specific section, nor are librettists identified by whose words are which—they truly meld their identities in the service of this memorial.

As Jane Clementi said, she truly believes that perhaps only music has the power to reach inside and transform someone’s attitudes and soul. Overall, the work was at all times beautiful, but very difficult for me emotionally, but what is my discomfort compared to the family’s grief. Perhaps some of that was due to the raw, literal nature of the words. The children’s nursery rhyme “London Bridge is falling down” (in the movement called A Wish), though conceived years ago for this work, seemed strangely prescient given yesterday’s terrorism in London on that very bridge. It caused me to think about whether it is proper to take aesthetic enjoyment as a result of someone’s tragedy. However, if that were the case, we wouldn’t have Shostakovich’s Babi Yar symphony either. The soloists and choir were very, very good; and it was great to see the concertmaster of the Distinguished Concerts orchestra properly credited (he was the violin “embodiment” of Tyler Clementi).

This work should be required listening for every high school and college. Click here to watch the live video of the concert. Please be kind, people, and use social media for good purposes only.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Artist Series presents Ian Gindes in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Artist Series presents Ian Gindes

Ian Gindes, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 30, 2017

The Memorial Day weekend concluded with a solo piano recital by a Captain in the Army National Guard, Ian Gindes, who has a formidable piano study pedigree (including a D. Mus. Arts). His recital was a study in stark contrast, with his best work in the twentieth-century American repertoire that he has made his calling card.

He began with an account of Bach’s first Partita (B-Flat major, BWV 825), and he kept his right foot far away from the sustaining pedal, which in itself is admirable, but which in this case led to somewhat stiff, wooden readings of all but the final movement. His contrapuntal clarity was good, but he never rolled a single chord in the entire work, which was particularly detrimental in the Sarabande, making it sound heavy rather than sensual. In the Menuet II, he did not wait the correct amount of time before beginning the repeats, rushing instead and creating a sort of unease in this listener. Finally, in the concluding Gigue, joy entered his fingers, and that was the best movement.

A Chopin group followed, it suffered from a lack of elegance and/or poetry in the interpretive approach. The famous E-Flat major Nocturne (Op. 9, No. 2) had a punched melody way too loud for the accompaniment, some wayward rubati and some artificial-sounding lingering (still, I’d rather be irritated than bored). The A-Flat major Impromptu (Op. 29) lacked sensitivity and a tossed-off quality. In the Etude (Op. 10, No. 3) in E major, Mr. Gindes did present the iconic melody very beautifully. The next Etude (Op. 10, No. 4) in C-Sharp minor showed that he can move his fingers in the requisite fashion, but it was marred by heaviness.

Mr. Gindes followed this with a Liszt group. Two selections from the less-often played Années de pelerinage: Suisse were included. Here his thunderous approach suited the Chapelle de Guillaume Tell very well, invoking church-organs, battle horns, and echoes across mountain valleys. In Au bord d’une source however, his water did not play and sparkle, the tempo was too slow, though in Liszt’s “small-note” cadenzas he played beautifully; I wish he had brought that quality to the whole piece. Part of my definition of virtuosity is not only the ability to play difficult pieces, but to give the audience the sense “of course I can do that, AND I can do so much more.” In Liszt’s Paganini Etude La Campanella, Liszt set out to create a level of difficulty in purely pianistic terms that would equal what Paganini made one lone violinist do. Mr. Gindes seemed at the outer limit of what he is capable of doing, with nothing left to spare.

After intermission, it was as though a different person took the stage. I marveled at the utter perfection of his Copland groups, and the Gershwin/Wild song transcription/etudes. Mr. Gindes played one of my all-time favorite piano transcriptions by Copland, his Oscar-nominated score for the movie version of Our Town (1940). I could not believe how completely he was attuned to the content of the music, the beautiful piano tone, and the absolutely appropriate sentiment of every moment.

Probably only Earl Wild could make his own etudes based on Gershwin popular songs sound completely easy and effortless, but Mr. Gindes certainly gives him a run for his money, particularly in the sensuous rendering of Embraceable You.

Mr. Gindes finished with Copland’s own piano transcription of his ballet Rodeo (1942) composed for Agnes de Mille. Every buckaroo sprang to life, the wistfulness of the silent corral at night, the dancing flirtations of the Saturday night couples, and the final Hoe-Down. It was truly a celebration of America and Americana, in which Mr. Gindes did NOT seem at the limit of what he could do.

We need more contemporary American piano music on recitals, and Ian Gindes can fulfill that role beautifully.

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