New York Concert Artists & Associates Present Sergey Kuznetsov, 2014 Carnegie Debut Recital Winner in Review

New York Concert Artists & Associates Present Sergey Kuznetsov, 2014 Carnegie Debut Recital Winner in Review

New York Concert Artists & Associates Present the 2014 Carnegie Debut Recital Winner
Sergey Kuznetsov, Piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
Wednesday, March 11, 2015

A barn-storming firepower Russian virtuoso of the “old school” variety swept into town on Wednesday night in the person of Sergey Kuznetsov. I should qualify that by saying that in addition to absolute technical command and big line, Mr. Kuznetsov adds the virtues of a steely concentration, fierce intellect, and a great deal of lyrical intimacy. I’d say overall for me he was at his best in precisely those lyrical moments—however he generated the greatest audience excitement when giving full vent to what are his obviously huge passions about the music he is playing and what it is expressing. He took risks, and they paid off.

He began with a searching account of Schubert’s Impromptu No. 1 in C minor, D. 899, one that emphasized the implacable march-like nature of the material, but then dissolved into moments of heartbreaking lyricism, with a perfect singing legato and voicing. Mr. Kuzetsov then launched into the true curiosity of the program: his own transcription for solo piano of the great Schubert F minor Fantasie, D. 940, originally for piano four-hands. This is one of Schubert’s final compositions, and arguably the most profound work ever written for the medium of two players at one keyboard. I confess to being worried that the essential intimacy of the chamber-music genre would be lost, but my worries were unfounded. Due to Mr. Kuznetsov’s unlimited technique and total understanding of each gesture, I quickly and happily surrendered to this version. Interestingly, the unavoidable need for him to leave out at least some of the notes led to an increase in transparency for the piece as a whole. I only missed some of the massive climactic sonority in the final fugal section, which needed deeper basses.

He then turned to his fellow Russian, the deeply mystical, often misunderstood Scriabin. First he teased out the brief, evanescent mini-dramas of the Three Pieces, Op. 45, from Scriabin’s fully-formed mysterious late-style period. They progress backwards, with the final short piece called Prelude. Perfectly rendered, as they were here, their enigmas remain unsolvable. Mr. Kuznetsov then played Scriabin’s Third Sonata, which still relates to the Chopinesque romantic style of Scriabin’s youth, but expands the rhythmic ambiguity greatly, on the way to the later sonatas. Here Mr. Kuznetsov’s tempestuous emotions added immensely to the success of the work. I’d like to add also, that he understands something very important abut Scriabin: if you merely do literally what is on the page, often the music just “lies there.” Mr. Kuznetsov possesses the secret of what I call the “Scriabin rubato,” which knows when to surge forward, pull back, and group certain notes and rhythms together in a slightly (!) altered fashion, so that the true gesture emerges. An exciting performance.

After intermission, Chopin was the subject, starting with the rarely performed Rondo à la Mazur, an early work. I had only heard it once live, at a Horowitz recital. Mr. Kuznetsov brought so much authentic mazurka characterization to the main theme that it became a dancing joy. His sparkle and glitter were in abundance too. The 24 Preludes, Op. 28, followed. This work is far from rare, even though Chopin himself didn’t perform all of them at one sitting; this only became popular in the twentieth century. Mr. Kuznetsov seemed to have an overall plan to make these mostly brief character pieces into one arching statement. To that end, he de-sentimentalized many of them, not in itself a bad thing. I felt an indefinable need for less aggression though, only at times, and just when I was beginning to get uncomfortable with it, he redeemed it with a moment or two of stunning intimacy. A very individual approach, completely admirable in such an iconic, even overplayed, work. [A note to Martha Argerich . . . I’ve finally found someone who can play Chopin’s Prelude No. 16 faster than you, with no dropped notes, musically, and live!]

He favored his enthusiastic audience with two encores: the Chopin Berceuse, Op. 57, which contained all the delicacy I craved in the Preludes. Then the monstrously difficult Godowsky/Strauss: Symphonic Metamorphoses on Themes from Die Fledermaus. This piece contains enough notes for six hands, or, if you’re lucky enough to have him: one Kuznetsov.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Musica Sacra in Review

Musica Sacra in Review

Musica Sacra
Kent Tritle, Music Director; Michael Sheetz, Assistant Music Director
Lianne Coble, soprano; John Turanno, tenor; Malcolm J. Merriweather, baritone; Arthur Fiacco, Jr., cellist; Walter Hilse and Raymond Nagem, organists
Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, New York, NY
March 4, 2015

 

It is not often that one hears three world premieres all in one evening, with the notable exception of sacred concert music, a sphere that continues to thrive due to the dedication of organists, choir directors, choral singers, and their supporters and patrons. This wouldn’t be the usual volunteer church choir music, rehearsed but once on a Thursday evening prior to the Sunday service; rather it is intended for professional choirs with appearances both in and out of the liturgical setting.

Continuing its commitment to expanding the choral repertoire, Musica Sacra dedicated its final concert of the season to three world premieres, including The Wisdom of the Wise Old Man by Juraj Filas, Returning by Michael Gilbertson, Lux Aeterna by Robert Paterson, as well as Parable, A Tale of Abram and Isaac by Judith Lang Zaimont. [Reviewer’s note: This review will concern itself primarily with the Juraj Filas premiere.]

Briefly stated: What is there that Kent Tritle can’t do? His presence in the New York organ and choral scene is dominant, and always excellent. Since his taking over the group Musica Sacra, its already first-rate reputation has been sharpened and focused even more. His conducting is lyrical, energetic, and, for lack of a better word, mystical. He draws forth the entire scope of dynamics and color variety from the lean choir, composed of just twenty-eight singers.

Mary B. Davidson, a board member of Musica Sacra, and Arthur Fiacco, Jr., a fine New York cellist (and long-time collaborator with Maestro Tritle), were both so moved by a recent trip to the Nazi show-camp of Terezín (better known by the German name Theresienstadt), in what today is the Czech Republic, that they commissioned the prolific Slovak composer Juraj Filas to create a suitable memorial to mark the seventieth anniversary of the liberation of the camp, and all the extermination camps (of which Terezín wasn’t one, offically), and the end of WWII in the European theater.

What do I mean by the term show-camp? Terezín was used by the Nazis as propaganda to show how they were tolerant and not cruel. Red Cross groups were regularly paraded through Terezín to see for themselves the orchestra, chamber music, theater, poets, etc. Of course, all this was but the thinnest of masks to the real horror. Most of Terezín’s inmates were transported to one of the extermination facilities, if they didn’t die of disease first.

Mr. Filas can be considered the ‘composer-grandsonʼ of one of Terezín’s inmates: Rudolf Karel, who was his teacher’s teacher.

We tend to think of horror as zombies, chainsaw massacres, and the like, but the real horror is when man inflicts humiliation, torture, and death upon his fellow-man. Mr. Filas seized upon this realization to craft a dramatic cantata for soloists, chorus, cello solo, and organ, that uses one section of Dante’s Inferno, and some lines from a fairy tale by Czech author Karel Jaromír Erben.

While the Dante dwells on the terrors of the damned as they descend to their various punishments (“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here” sung in Italian, as were all the Dante lines), the Erben urges its hearers to carry on, that “We will cross the threshold of wisdom and leave for the place, which knows no joy or sorrow, where there’s neither delight or death, where there’s eternal peace and paradise.”

Mr. Filasʼ compositional style (in this piece, anyway) tends to the portentous and bombastic, although, I must say he acheived an almost Mahler-like transcendence in the consoling words of Erben heard at the end. There are at least two ways of looking at originality: (1) is the composer creating a new vocabulary of music or adding something never before done?, and (2) is he expressing himself as only he can, thus original and authentic? Mr. Filas is certainly a (2), and if I knew more of his music, perhaps I’d be inclined to add (1).

Mr. Fiacco played his yearning cello part with all the commitment and soul one could ever wish for, and it’s only a shame that it was audible only during his solos and when he was with organ; but not when the full choir was singing. At those times he looked very busy but one wasn’t hearing his contribution. The chorus and solists were magnificent, their diction was crisp and intelligible even in the cavernous acoustic of the cathedral, with its many seconds of reverb.

“Love is the truest elixir. . . This is the wisdom of the wise old man.”

 

 

 

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Community High School District 99 and Bob Rogers Travel Present “New York Nouveau” in Review

Community High School District 99 and Bob Rogers Travel Present “New York Nouveau” in Review

Community High School District 99 and Bob Rogers Travel Present “New York Nouveau”
Downers Grove North High School Symphonic Band and Wind Ensemble: William S. Miller, Jennifer Mullen, Brayer Teague, conductors
Downers Grove South High School Wind Symphony and Wind Ensemble: Greg Hensel, Craig Roselieb, Glenn Williams, conductors
Guest Artists: Gaudete Brass Quintet; Don Owens, composer/conductor; Peter Wilson, violin
Distinguished Alumni Guest Artists: Kristin A. Bowers, clarinet; Ian Williams, piano; Lauren Wood, saxophone; Hannah Young, harp
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
March 2, 2015

 

There’s an old saying in show business: “Always leave them wanting more.” It would be hard to imagine any “more” after the three-and-a-half hour epic concert presented by the symphonic bands and wind ensembles of the two high schools in Downers Grove, Illinois. There were twenty-one pieces (some quite lengthy), seven conductors, and six soloists.

I deeply admire and respect the commitment of the school board to music education, as represented by these enthusiastic young players, as well as the parent, teacher, and community support that keeps them going. A concert in legendary Carnegie Hall is truly a crowning accomplishment that many will remember for the rest of their lives.

That said, the program was not well-structured, and was way too long—it could easily have been pared down by at least an hour-and-a-half, with more selectivity. “New York Nouveau” celebrated music with unique ties to the Big Apple. Highlights included a world premiere of a commissioned work by American composer Don Owens (Concerto for Brass Quintet and Wind Ensemble), a New York premiere of Black Dog, featuring Kristin Bowers of the United States Air Force Band of Washington, D.C., and the original version of George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, as premiered in New York by the Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra in 1924.

The school ensembles were led by their respective conductors (three from each high school), who excelled in bringing dynamic nuance and contrast to marches that are often just raced through. Other matters, such as bloopers, and fuzzy rhythm plagued the symphonic-sized groups more than the leaner wind ensembles, particularly in arrangements like that of the Finale from Dvořak’s Symphony No. 9 “From the New World.” Moving one of these bands around, musically, must be like turning a large ocean liner: it doesn’t happen swiftly. The excellent violin soloist, Peter Wilson, had trouble getting group and conductor to follow his impetuous tempi in Henri Vieuxtemp’s old chestnut, Souvenir d’Amérique, which is really a set of virtuoso variations on “Yankee Doodle.”

The French word for the musical off-beat is contretemps, which is also the word for an argument. The off-beats in many of the arrangements may have caused many an argument, as they furnished the principal locus for coming-to-grief in otherwise energetic interpretations.

Saxophonist Lauren Wood showed great flair in the celebrated Harlem Nocturne by Earle Hagen. The Gaudete (Latin for rejoice) Brass Quintet was gleaming and precise in the most “modern sounding” work of the evening, the world premiere of Don Owens’ Concerto. They performed the aptly-titled first movement: Rejoice! A New York premiere of Scott McAllister’s Black Dog for clarinet (the superb Kristin A. Bowers) and harp and wind ensemble revealed a really good piece based on the Led Zeppelin song.

 

The Music Faculty of Downers Grove North High School

The Music Faculty of Downers Grove North High School

Other highlights were the “classic” marches, whether by Sousa ( Manhattan Beach March from 1893) or Sousa-followers—Karl King’s Torch of Liberty (1942), Thomas Allen’s Whip and Spur March (1902), and Otto H. Jacobs The Aviation Cadet March (1944).

The concert concluded with a war-horse that should have been more enjoyable than it turned out to be, perhaps because of the extreme length of the preceding concert: Gershwin’s evergreen Rhapsody in Blue in its original jazz band instrumentation, with piano soloist Ian Williams and players made up of students, alumni, and every member of the music faculty. Maybe it should have been called the Gershwin/Williams Rhapsody, for Mr. Williams exhibited immense rhythmic and tempo waywardness that went far beyond rubato, and he embellished many of Gershwin’s lines with jazz-inspired improvisatory filigree that didn’t really enhance the strong clean lines of the original. Let us recall that Gershwin himself made a piano roll of the part, and it is very swingy, but quite classically restrained in style. On the positive side, Mr. Williams did make the work sound very personal, his own, difficult to do with such iconic music. Nevertheless, Mr. Williams successfully performed on the main stage of Carnegie Hall, as did all these young musicians.

May their achievement be multiplied many times over, all across America. It is so important to present and hear such inspiring success stories when the “voices of doom” continually renew their prophecies of cuts in the arts, decline of interest in art music, and the like. Bravo.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Cincinnati World Piano Competition presents the 2013 Gold Medal winner: Marianna Prjevalskaya in Review

Cincinnati World Piano Competition presents the 2013 Gold Medal winner: Marianna Prjevalskaya in Review

Cincinnati World Piano Competition presents the 2013 Gold Medal winner
Marianna Prjevalskaya, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
February 23, 2015

A miracle happened on one of the coldest nights in a seemingly endless New York City winter- a stunning debut piano recital by a young competition winner. It was one of the finest piano recitals that I have heard in many years.

Marianna Prjevalskaya won the Gold Medal at the Cincinnati World Piano Competition in 2013, and since then has been scooping up prizes in other competitions at a great rate, while continuing her Doctoral studies at Peabody.

She chose a daunting program that would cause many a more famous, seasoned pianist to quake in their concert shoes. The entire first half consisted of the Debussy Préludes, Deuxième livre, which is heard much less often than the first book, and is much more elusive, not to mention technically challenging. I’ll admit I was skeptical: Would there be sufficient control of the soft dynamic ranges, and the sophisticated pedaling required? I had no cause for concern, from the very first note I knew Ms. Prjevalskaya was in complete command and control of the material. Her Brouillards were as mysterious as her Feuilles mortes were properly mélancolique. Each prelude went from rapture to rapture, there was no downside. The deceptively simple single melodic line that opens Bruyères was heartbreakingly beautiful. The alternating thirds (Les tierces alternées) in the eleventh Prélude , which I regard as the “thirteenth” Debussy Étude, were marvels of clarity and speed.

Absolutely every note, articulation, blend, layer of sonority, had been completely thought through, yet never sounded premeditated, qualities that extended to the rest of the evening’s program. This was a stunning display of mature pianism, and was probably too “good,” too subtle for the audience to fully appreciate.

After intermission, Ms. Prjevalskaya favored the hall with masterworks by Chopin and Rachmaninoff; surely these would be crowd pleasing. The Chopin was his Fantaisie in F minor, Op. 49, a large work with a funeral march introduction, three repeated allegro passionate sections in different keys (between the second and third is a hymn-like meditation), and then a coda. Her sensitivity to harmonic color and her natural romantic rubato was glorious. She varied the second passionate material to make it more intimate and delicate, and then varied the third appearance to exult in a triumphant way.

The final work was Rachmaninoff’s massive Variations on a Theme of Chopin, Op. 22. The theme is the famous Prelude No. 20 in C minor, unfortunately known to many only by its presence in “Could It Be Magic,” a Barry Manilow song. This work is much less often performed than Rachmaninoff’s Corelli Variations, and it is easy to see why. The complexities are staggering and the technical demands enormous. The entire work is like an encyclopedia of Rachmaninoff gestures from many of his other works, notably the Piano Concerto No. 2 (in the same key, C minor), and his Preludes and Études-Tableaux. Ms. Prjevalskaya conjured everything from piano sonority to a metaphor for full orchestra without once making a harsh sound or playing an unmusical note. Her ability to clarify the densest textures was absolute. And through all this, one sensed her fierce commitment to each and every note and phrase, all dispatched with a relatively sober demeanor—no grimacing or grandstanding. All her energy went into the notes themselves.

At the end of the Variations, I leapt to my feet (which I rarely do, because I feel standing ovations are overdone), and found to my non-amusement that I was the only one doing so. Not to worry, she will find her audiences, and they will hang on her every note.

I would love to hear that pianism brought to bear on an unorthodox idea: a complete Well-Tempered Clavier of Bach. (Just a suggestion, Marianna!) She favored the audience with one richly deserved encore: Chopin’s Nocturne, Op. 27 No. 1 in C-sharp Minor, which was redolent with dark visions of (perhaps) Venice at night.

[A word to presenters and recitalists: If you are giving a recital in a major New York hall, a 4” x 6” piece of card stock is NOT a sufficient “program.” Also, artists: PLEASE have written program notes (your own), or, if you are not comfortable doing so, hire someone who is. Of course, it is better if you do it yourself—it adds a whole layer to the audience’s understanding of your involvement with the music before you have even played a note.]

The preceding paragraph is only addressing a distressing trend I see in these debut recitals, and is in no way meant to take away from what was one of the major piano recitals of the season. I look forward to much more from Marianna Prjevalskaya.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Mason Gross School of the Arts presents “The Unknown Diabelli Variations” in Review

Mason Gross School of the Arts presents “The Unknown Diabelli Variations” in Review

Mason Gross School of the Arts presents “The Unknown Diabelli Variations”
With pianists from the Mason Gross School of the Arts
Min Kwon, artistic director
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
February 17, 2015

Mardi Gras is a day for excess before the penitential season of Lent. There certainly was an excess of variations on a waltz by Diabelli at Weill Recital Hall last night, and an excess of pianists and composers, all under the watchful, charmingly humorous eye of their mistress of ceremonies, Min Kwon. Call it “50 Shades of Diabelli,” if you will.

Nearly everyone knows of the great Beethoven set of 33 variations (Op. 120) on what he termed a “Schusterpfleck” (cobbler’s patch), the inane waltz by Anton Diabelli, with its square, symmetrical phrasing and obvious sequences. There was even a Broadway play (2009) called 33 Variations, starring Jane Fonda as a musicologist on the trail of secrets about the piece.

The mission of the Mason Gross piano department was to correct the imbalance, and to present the other fifty composers’ responses to Diabelli’s vanity request. Diabelli was an important Viennese music publisher, and I imagine you wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. He published Beethoven’s monumental set by itself as Volume I, and all the others as Volume II.

Nearly all of these other composers, with the notable exceptions of Schubert and Liszt, are nearly or completely forgotten today, so much so that even the enterprising Ms. Kwon, who read interesting facts about each before their variation (and introduced each pianist), had nothing to say about a few of them.

Twenty-five (!) pianists divided the set among them, each taking one, two, or three of the variations, some of which presented nightmarish problems of digital dexterity, in the best tradition of early-nineteenth century Viennese pianistic showmanship. Sadly, the inspiration level of the variations was, at least 95% of the time, as banal as the generating tune that gave rise to the whole thing, but the inspiration level of the performers, including their commitment, joy, and technical ability, was much higher.

Beethoven immediately set about pulling apart the theme, teasing out every motivic implication as only he could. Given a waltz, he turned Variation I into a march in 4/4 time, and so on. By the time this metaphysical journey is over, the lowly waltz “caterpillar” has been transformed into a courtly minuet “butterfly.”

Mason Gross School of the Arts presents “The Unknown Diabelli Variations”

Mason Gross School of the Arts presents
“The Unknown Diabelli Variations”

The fifty composers’ primary approach was for the “ornamental” variation, in which the main features of the original are very much on the surface. I counted only four who even dared venture into the minor mode, including the haunting Schubert contribution, a waltz that managed to say more about Schubert than the source material. It was gorgeously rendered by Nathaniel Francis. The variation by C.M. von Bocklet, a friend of and interpreter of Beethoven, sounded like he had heard Beethoven’s own Variation XXI, perhaps in private in Beethoven’s quarters. Others chose fugal imitation as a response, there was even a Polonaise. A particularly lovely variation was by one Joseph Kerzowsky, about whom nothing was known other than his participation in this set. That was played meltingly by another of my favorite pianists of the evening, Di Wang. Liszt could be forgiven for his tempestuous C-Minor rant, buried in rushing figuration—it was, after all the product of an eleven-year old, who had only been studying with Czerny for three years. W.A. Mozart’s second son, Franz Xaver, contributed a rather dull variation, and Beethoven’s own Archduke Rudolph reveled in displaying his understanding of counterpoint with a largely fugal variation that didn’t really “arrive” anywhere.

I couldn’t tell whether all of the composers were being absolutely serious, or if they were trying to “out-trivialize” their given theme. By the second half of the concert, the signature features of Diabelli’s tune: the turn, the five-one “thump,” the sequence, were so distressingly familiar that one could have probably held a sing-along.

One very innovative facet of the evening was the presence of seven contemporary composers (also from Mason Gross School), and their own takes on Diabelli’s fling. These were offered as a sort of pianistic “sorbet,” placed after every seven or so of the older variations. These were mainly clever, but the standouts were: Chung Eun Kim’s jazzy flirt; and then the “encore” by Matt Anderson—a frenetic 7/8 romp, with the added interest of being scored for piano four-hands.

Overall, this was an interesting presentation, perhaps a bit too didactic for a real evening of “entertainment,” but I do salute and appreciate the talent and hard work involved, and the seriousness of intent. There’s something really good going on in the piano (and composition) department of the Mason Gross School of the Arts at nearby Rutgers University.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Pathway Concert Series presents Hyojung Huh in Review

The Pathway Concert Series presents Hyojung Huh in Review

Hyojung Huh, piano
“Earth and Heaven”: Chorale Fantasies 1, 2, and 3 by Shinuh Lee
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
December 18, 2014

It seemed as though there were two recitals happening side-by-side on Thursday, December 18, 2014. The first: a display of superior pianistic skill, with thundering climaxes, ethereal pianissimi, lyricism, beautiful tone, and totally committed playing. The second: an overview of one contemporary composer’s work that, to put it positively, would be called “eclectic, polystylistic.” To put it less positively: “derivative” and at times “cliché.”

Both composer and pianist are obviously totally involved with a certain Christian mystical communion with their beliefs. This allies them with Bach and Messiaen (a large influence on Shinuh Lee), and that is not bad company at all. Wasn’t it Stravinsky who said “Steal only from the best.”?

Shinuh Lee’s three Chorale Fantasies are ambitious works, difficult to play, but somewhat unwieldy in their attempt to illustrate religious mysticism with musical tones. She is very lucky indeed to have such a gloriously gifted pianist as Hyojung Huh as her advocate.

The three works were played in the reverse order of their composition. The third Fantasy “Alleluia,” began with impressionistic sounds, awash in pedal. Someone should show Ms. Huh how to release the pedal without the annoying “damper catch” sound at the end, for it detracted from the rapt intensity of the lingering resonances. Birdsong made its entrance (Messiaen), and mostly one was reminded of Scriabin and Debussy. At times, a simplistic interruption was heard in imitating voices. Much of the time, I wanted Ms. Lee to stay with one idea longer. However, at other times I wished certain passages were better edited. This fantasy didn’t really sound like what the word “Alleluia” denotes to me (and did to the early Christians): joy and triumph.

The second fantasy, “The Collar,” was based on a not-very-subtle mystical poem by 17th century poet George Herbert. I was an English minor in college, and even I find Herbert rough going today. How all this became music was again, a matter of subjective opinion. The poem tells of the weary, cynical poet who is lamenting his sterility, when suddenly he listens and there is the voice of God calling him “Child.” The “collar” is the restraining device that keeps us connected to our divinity, but that makes us seem like dogs, doesn’t it? Of course, clerics wear collars too. In this work, influences included: Copland (Piano Variations), Boulez (without the intellectual rigor), Bartók, and Prokofiev. It was uneven in its pacing, not Ms. Huh’s fault, who, by the way, played the entire incredibly complex evening from memory.

After intermission came the first Fantasy “Comfort, comfort my people,” based on selections from the Bible. Each section has a subtitle taken from The Screwtape Letters by mystic author C.S. Lewis. Here, Ms. Lee introduced her own original chorale melody to serve as intermezzi between the more tempestuous sections dealing with man’s sinful nature. Eventually she quoted from Bach himself-Christ lag in Todesbanden (Christ lay in the bonds of death, used in Cantata BWV4), and the comparison was not kind to Ms. Lee’s own chorale, which was bland by comparison. Her influences here seemed to be: Prokofiev (the “Montagues and Capulets,” from Romeo and Juliet), Ginastera, Bach-Busoni, Rachmaninoff, and Messiaen’s Vingt regards sur l’enfant Jésus (Twenty Looks at the Baby Jesus, which sounded more like a borrowing rather than a mere influence). Ms. Huh had the opportunity to use some fierce fist-clusters in the lowest register of the piano; and I must say Ms. Lee’s use of the total instrument and its color possibilities was most attractive. I just wish that her compositional voice was more original.

As for Ms. Huh, I’d dearly love her to give a recital of more varied fare, without abandoning her muse, Ms Lee. Bach, late-period Liszt, Messiaen, Scriabin would all suit her. Ms. Huh, as George Herbert said: “There is fruit, and thou hast hands.”

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Messiah . . . Refreshed! in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Messiah . . . Refreshed! in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Messiah . . . Refreshed!
Eugene Goossens’s and Thomas Beecham’s 1959 re-orchestration for full symphony orchestra.
Jonathan Griffith, conductor
Penelope Shumate, soprano; Holly Sorenson, mezzo-soprano; John McVeigh, tenor; Christopher Job, bass/baritone
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Avery Fisher Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY
November 30, 2014
 

Okay purists, put down the lorgnettes and stop sniffing in disdain. Absolutely no Messiahs were harmed in the making of this Messiah. Quite the contrary, a mostly thrilling and detailed performance of this evergreen work, full of passion and commitment, took place on November 30th at Avery Fisher Hall. Messiah is the one work that overshadows absolutely everything else in Handel’s output.

Let’s get the bad jokes out of the way now: “Messiah Inflated,” “The Biggest Gainer,” “Enlarge Ye my Orchestra.” Feel better? Gigantism began creeping into the work even in Handel’s time, with the famous English choral societies often numbering in the hundreds. This was the age of absolute rulers—palaces and pomp. And no less a genius than Mozart thought fit to re-instrument it for his time and style. These practical men of music didn’t suffer from the stilting reverence of which we are often guilty. If we are going to perform this work in a hall that seats 3000, some adjustment may be permitted.

With just a few cuts introduced by Eugene Goossens, the performance clocked in at about 2 hours 40 minutes, the same as on my Christopher Hogwood ground-breaking “historically informed” recording from the 1980s. Conductor Jonathan Griffith led the massed forces with great energy and a compromise approach, including some stylish double dotting, but broader tempi to accommodate the increased instrumental sound. He also introduced some very “grand old British gentleman” ritards which were absolutely welcome. I don’t know if that was his innate musicality, or if they were specified by Goossens or Beecham. The only minor annoyance was the presence of the triangle and cymbal, neither of which added much to my enjoyment.

The “Pifa,” or Pastoral Symphony that is in Part I was absolutely magical in the pianissimo return of the theme, played by a smaller cohort with pinpoint style and hushed, awestruck beauty.

When the chorus entered for its first number “And the glory of the Lord,” the sound was absolutely thrilling. These choristers are a cosmopolitan bunch, from France, Brazil, Guatemala, Georgia, Kansas, Hong Kong, Wisconsin, New York, Australia, Tennessee, Missouri, and Germany, obviously so well prepared by their local conductors that they can travel to New York and put themselves together with Maestro Griffith and his orchestra, who brought great unity and color variety to their singing, which was never generic, and was most exciting in the full-voiced passages. Their clarity and rhythmic vitality was very good in the difficult chains of sixteenth notes.

The four soloists were also excellent, with visible involvement in their texts, crystal clear diction, and stamina. Tenor John McVeigh has a sweet lyrical voice that would sound well in front of a Baroque orchestra as well. His “Behold, and see if there be any sorrow” was a highlight of the tenor-heavy Part II.

 

Messiah...Refreshed!

Messiah…Refreshed!

 

Soprano Penelope Shumate was a real find for me, with a voice that has been described previously in New York Concert Review as “radiant,” and I can see why. The clear tones were true and expressive, one of the best “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion” that I have ever heard live. Her “I know that my redeemer liveth” was lovely.

The mezzo-soprano, Holly Sorenson, had perhaps the hardest job being heard over the increased orchestration, no fault of hers, but an accident of the lower tessitura. Her “He was despised” was lovely and appropriately grief-stricken, but I wanted to hear the middle section and da capo (shame on Goossens for this one).

Bass-baritone Christopher Job avoided the hollow, sepulchral tones that one sometimes hears from true basses. His voice ideally suited the punishing “The trumpet shall sound,” and was every bit the match for the clarino trumpet (excellently played). However, I would have wished for a darker color on “For behold, darkness shall cover the earth,” which he did beautifully on “Behold, I tell you a mystery,” with “mystery” having its own special mysticism reflected in the voice.

Griffith found a nuance I had only heard once before (in a “historically informed” performance by Les Arts Florissants): the lightening of the voices in the chorus “His yoke is easy and his burden is light” on the final two words, perfectly realized tone painting. The Hallelujah chorus and the concluding “Worthy is the lamb that was slain” and fugal “Amen” benefited from two extra “ambush” antiphonal choirs placed in the left and right balconies of Avery Fisher Hall. The proximity of the sound to the audience only added to the grand intensity of these seminal moments.

Worthy indeed, was this Messiah.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “The Oracle at Delphi”: The Music of Dinos Constantinides in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “The Oracle at Delphi”: The Music of Dinos Constantinides in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “The Oracle at Delphi”: The Music of Dinos Constantinides
Margaret O’Connell, mezzo-soprano; Lin He, violin; Robert DiLutis, clarinet; Michael Gurt, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
November 22, 2014
 

If my Greek philosophy serves me right, the inscription over the entrance to the oracle at Delphi proclaimed its most important maxim before the seeker even entered to ask his real question. That saying, “Know thyself,” aptly describes Greek-American composer Dinos Constantinides. He knows his heritage, style, and compositional craft very well. In this all-Constantinides program, he was privileged to have four extremely capable, committed, and evidently enthusiastically involved artists to bring his works to life. They are all faculty members of Louisiana State University, where he is Boyd Professor, the highest academic rank.

Constantinides’ work is conservative, approachable, and generally tonal. He exemplifies Hindemith’s saying “There are only twelve tones, we must treat them with care.” It is gratifying to find a composer in academia who is not writing serially, but is mining the simple expressive power of the twelve half-tones of our traditional chromatic scale. His hallmarks are: motific unity and good, audible counterpoint, pleasing instrumental sonorities, and a mix of lyricism and jauntiness, even humor. The novice listener can follow the discourse immediately without disorientation.

The first work, Mountains of Epirus, dedicated to the memory of his mother and father, established his general processes, with clear counterpoint in the “At the Village” movement, and a lively motoric seven meter in the “Country Fair” second movement. It was beautifully played, by violinist Lin He and pianist Michael Gurt. Glimpses of modal melodies peek through, though they are probably not quotes, but original outgrowths of his immersion in native folklore. Next came the Midnight Fantasy II for clarinet and piano, whose genesis owes to a small cluster of notes from a Nat King Cole song. The brilliant clarinetist Robert DeLutis, again partnered by Mr. Gurt, conveyed the “musiques nocturnes” feeling well.

Lazy Jack and His Fiddle for unaccompanied violin has the air of a children’s piece, indeed it is based on a children’s tale, but few children would ever be able to negotiate its virtuosic demands. Here, the motific unity lends strength to what might be a lighter, “occasional” sort of piece. The slothful fiddler amuses us by mistaking A-Flat for the last note of a piece in G, then the other way around, before conclusively resolving in G. Transformations for clarinet and piano showed an uncanny unanimity of ensemble between the two players; they were no longer separate, but “one instrument” in thought, execution, and feeling. The endings of movements were transfixing.

Listenings and Silences was the concluding work on the first half, sung unaccompanied by the expressive mezzo-soprano Margaret O’Connell. It is based on poems or poem fragments by the former Poet Laureate of Louisiana, Pinkie Gordon Lane (1923-2008). Ms. Lane’s quietly expressive take on race issues (which earned her no favors with the more militant black community) was evident in the first section “A Quiet Poem,” which was sung with just enough gesture by Ms. O’Connell. “Poem Extract” and “Listenings” were also delivered well, though an unaccompanied voice is so very exposed, a few of the words were lost as she ascended into the upper reaches of her otherwise rich voice.

After intermission, Ms. O’Connell returned for another solo work Delphic Hymn, whose origin was incidental music for a production of Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex. This was a wordless vocalise, and since no one really knows what Greek music from the second century BC actually sounded like, the claim that it incorporates fragments from the actual antique Delphic Hymn can’t be substantiated. But the work does have atmosphere, although its dimensions were too slight to contain the full horror and anguish of the Oedipus drama.

Music for Violin and Clarinet contained rapid interchanges between the instruments, as they negotiated Prologue, Dialogue, Monologues I and II, and an Epilogue. There was humor here, as the clarinet got the “last word” in during the Dialogue. Fantasia for Solo Clarinet showcased the tonal color range of the marvelous Mr. DiLutis. Idyll, for violin and piano, followed. In my understanding, an idyll is an extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque episode or scene, often an idealized, unsustainable one. This work seemed rather unhappy, meandering through a number of minor keys before finding some sense of resolution.

The final work, The Oracle at Delphi, is scored for the unusual trio combination of violin, clarinet, and piano. The work is based on a modal Greek “folk-like” tune which is developed among the players, reflecting Constantinides’ heritage. His music does not shout at you. It is sensitive, and this work tended to “withdraw” at the end, making a somewhat somber ending for a very honorable afternoon.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Coudert Institute presents Alexander Beridze in Review

Coudert Institute presents Alexander Beridze in Review

Alexander Beridze, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
November 12, 2014

Georgian pianist Alexander Beridze played a recital with great passion and excitement on November 12 at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; the program of standard repertoire was touchingly dedicated to the memory of his mother. I wonder if the works chosen were favorites of hers. Mr. Beridze was presented by the Coudert Institute, a Palm Beach “think tank”, whose motto is “subjects that matter with people who make a difference,” that also supports the arts. Amen to that.

Mr. Beridze began with Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 101 in A Major, the first of the famous “last five” sonatas, in which Beethoven simultaneously pushes music forward toward the Romantic period, while re-exploring the intricate counterpoint procedures of the Baroque. Mr. Beridze caught the delicate lyricism of the first movement perfectly, which begins “in the middle” of the phrase, adding numerous touches of beautiful articulation and melting legato touch. His understanding of the musical/rhetorical/emotional content of each phrase is quite deep, and he is able to bring all these together. The second movement, a truculent march marked Lebhaft (lively) still could have used a slightly more controlled tempo to allow for accuracy and clarity. Sometimes, in faster and louder movements, his enthusiasm runs away with him a bit, leading to finger slips and even memory lapses, though they don’t detour him from his expressive goal. The quasi-recitative of the third movement was rendered delicately with certain soft chords evocative of prayer or other metaphysical states, uncommonly beautiful. This led directly into the sonata/fugue hybrid fourth movement, played with brilliance, including wonderful trills.

The two Brahms Rhapsodies, Op. 79, followed. In the first, a more extended work in B Minor, Mr. Beridze’s phrasing and phrase grouping was utterly natural. He made the work sound inevitable and a lot less square and heavy than one often hears. However, in the second Rhapsody, in G Minor, the tempo was too rapid for clarity and expression, and it bordered on merely hectic and loud, and again, the memory suffered.

After intermission, he gave an electric rendering of Schumann’s “diary” of bipolar illness Kreisleriana Op 16. The eccentric, willful Kapellmeister Kreisler is a character in the novel of E.T.A. Hoffmann that had a great influence on the ever-susceptible Schumann. This work can handle an infinite range of approaches, but here Mr. Beridze’s headlong dive into the insane extremes of Schumann’s two alternate selves—Florestan (the fiery, impetuous side) and Eusebius (the dreamy poet)—were vividly contrasted. I did prefer his softer lyrical playing; it was truly poetic and lovely, whereas the “hyper” movements had less chance for subtlety, and there was definitely a missed opportunity for tenderness in the middle section of No. 1. I’ve always associated the final piece with the painting Death on a Pale Horse, with its evocation of nocturnal galloping. Although it is marked Schnell und spielend (Fast and playfully), it is the playfulness of something sinister toying with mankind. Mr.Beridze caught the disappearing nature of the nightmare perfectly.

Ideally, I would like to hear Mr. Beridze in a program that showed a greater range of piano styles and vocabularies.

He favored his sold-out crowd with one mighty encore, the Paganini/Liszt/Busoni multiple transcription and inflation of one of Paganini’s fierce violin solo caprices, La Campanella, played with even more fire and abandon than the entire recital which preceded it.

 

 

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Hilton Head Symphony Orchestra presents Shen Lu in Review

Hilton Head Symphony Orchestra presents Shen Lu in Review

2014 Hilton Head International Piano Competition Winner’s Recital
Shen Lu, pianist
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
November 8, 2014

 

An interesting recital was presented by the winner of the 2014 Hilton Head International Piano Competition, Shen Lu. While there were many moments of great beauty, he is not a “finished” pianist. (Who among us is?) I appreciated his total immersion in the music, but have some reservations, which will follow below. He is obviously well taught and has considerable emotional immersion in the music, although at age 29, perhaps I expected a more complete artist. His strengths are fleet fingers, a flexible, relaxed technique, and ravishing soft dynamics.

His program suffered from an excess of unusual choices, beginning with two Scarlatti sonatas, which were played with dreamy tones, though not unstylishly. Neither contained the customary sparkle that contest winners customarily resort to, though I appreciated his unique introversion. Next came the famous Beethoven “orphan,” the Andante favori, which old Ludwig had the good sense to remove as the central (slow) movement from the Waldstein sonata, adding the famous Introduzione instead. This work, however, has great integrity in its unfolding of continuous variation. Mr. Shen did not find the maximum magic in the key change to D-Flat Major, which occurs three times within the piece. This work is also essentially introspective, which Mr. Shen brought out nicely.

The first half concluded with Ravel’s Miroirs, an elusive body of work that perplexed even Ravel’s friends, members of the Apaches artist group of early twentieth century Paris. Mr. Shen’s amazingly fluid technique enabled him to negotiate the fearsome complexities of the score with ease, although the music could have used more clarity, dry wit, and irony. Ravel’s mirror-gazing needs a truly empathetic soul, not a skilled make-up artist. The best pieces were: the Noctuelles (Night Moths), whose fragile flittings were evoked beautifully, but with too much rubato, Oiseaux tristes (Sad Birds), whose flight amid the “torpor of a summer evening” (Ravel) was beautiful yet tragic, and La Vallée des cloches (The Valley of the Bells), which Ravel insisted was inspired not by a picturesque Alpine valley, but by the tolling of Paris’ church bells at noon. Mr. Shen clarified textures in the Une Barque sur l’océan (A Boat on the Ocean), but at the cost of leaving out some of the (many) notes. The famous Alborada del gracioso (Morning Song of the Jester) was dispatched at a dizzyingly fast tempo, thereby losing much of the character of the Spanish fool. His double glissandi were played softly, thereby avoiding calluses and bleeding fingers.

After intermission, Mr. Shen spent a great deal of pianistic capital on Tan Dun’s Opus 1: Eight Memories in Watercolor. Mr. Shen’s bio states his commitment to contemporary Chinese music. Although the set was played with total involvement, the music’s derivative nature could not be hidden: Debussy mainly, with hints of Bartók in his “For Children” mode. I am a great admirer of Tan Dun’s music, and I also love to explore the various composers’ “Opus ones,” but this set didn’t add much credit to either composer or pianist.

Finally, Mr. Shen negotiated the fierce demands of Rachmaninoff’s first set of Etudes-Tableaux, Op. 33. Here, his tone turned stereotypically “Russian,” if by that one means more aggressive, extroverted, even harsh. I have heard these pieces performed with greater linear clarity, although Mr. Shen’s total immersion was wonderful to behold. A brief memory lapse didn’t derail his poise or concentration. Rachmaninoff resisted assigning specific programs to these pieces, and they can well be appreciated simply as very difficult studies in the possibilities of piano sonority, without any further associations.

He favored the enthusiastic and large audience with two encores: a Prelude by Swiss composer Frank Martin, and a lyrical piece by (if I heard correctly) Chen Peixun. A word to those contemporary Chinese composers: please try not to imitate Debussy.

 

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