HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante in Review

HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante in Review

HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante, piano
“Masters of High Romanticism”- Concert I: Chopin-The Four Ballades, The Four Scherzi
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY
October 31, 2014

The great pianist Alfred Cortot said of the Chopin Etudes that “they are as inaccessible to the technician without poetry as they are to the poet without technique.” The same could apply equally to all of Chopin’s works. Carlo Grante possesses both technique and poetry in formidable degrees. His daunting program consisted of two giant blocks of the repertoire, the four Ballades and the four Scherzi of Chopin. These works are so well-known that their themes have become part of the musical subconscious, so to speak. They are also routinely massacred by well-meaning pianists, both professional and amateur.

From the opening stark low C of the first Ballade, the audience sensed it was in the presence of total mastery and a personal vision for each phrase and each work as a whole. Color variety was abundant, reflecting the deep and dramatic emotional shifts that frequently turn from brooding to exultant in these lyrical narratives. At times, a daring and personal sense of rubato was applied, but always with a structural view, never distorting the total architecture. He didn’t play these works “the way you’ve always heard them,” thank goodness. After all, if you can’t be individual in works from the Romantic period, you are in the wrong business.

Pianist Carlo Grante. Photo Credit: Steve J. Sherman

Pianist Carlo Grante. Photo Credit: Steve J. Sherman

In his detailed and very intelligent program notes, Mr. Grante discusses the layers of accretion that have gathered on these works, and how a newer analytical sense has slowly gained ground, leading to more interpretive choices and greater coherence. I agree with his remarks, and also with his interpretations, and they are just that: interpretations. How refreshing to find such individuality combined with faithful adherence to the score. All this sounds very dry and technical—the result was anything but. Some ladies seated near me were grumbling that he didn’t “sing” enough (meaning ‘bring out the right hand’), the way they had been taught ages ago by their teachers, prior to their giving up lessons. I resisted the temptation to lecture them; to say that he was indeed singing all the principal lines.

People have tried to attach specific programmatic content to the Ballades for over a century-and-a-half, understandable given their literary title deriving from epic poetry, but Chopin himself never alluded to any such storytelling, preferring to do it exclusively through musical construction and scale. This we heard clearly in Mr. Grante’s lucid renditions. The Scherzo (Italian for “joke”) began as a rapid transformation of the Minuet movement in sonatas and symphonies. It has often been remarked that, except for the E Major, Chopin’s Scherzi are some of the “blackest jokes” ever, containing mostly fury instead of humor. Even so, Mr. Grante managed to find qualities of coquettish grace in passages that are usually banged or hurried through.

Mr. Grante’s fluid and rapid fingers absorbed Chopin’s use of the “little” notes, arabesques, filigree, and other ornamental strategies, creating delicious harmonic washes of sound surrounding melodies that are often in the left hand, the one most ignored by amateur pianists. He revealed the contrapuntal mastery of Chopin, one of whose idols was Bach, which is too often glossed over. Mr. Grante also had a great sense of forward propulsion, the result of his firm understanding of the music’s ultimate goal.

Mr. Grante is a Bösendorfer artist, and his choice of instrument ideally suits his strong qualities. The sound was melting and mellow, a sound jaded New York ears used to the brilliance of Steinway may not be accustomed to but should grow familiar with. There were even notes that I wasn’t sure I heard, so delicate was his approach to the keys in certain soft passages. However, this was due to his creating “in the moment” rather than parroting a rehearsed “plan” for each piece.

Mr. Grante’s stage manner is not theatrical. He simply proceeds to reveal the deep structure and feeling embodied in the notes. His phrase-end taperings were spectacular, vocal in nature, adding to the sense of poignancy and nostalgia. There was great strength in the “apotheosis” sections of each Ballade, with never a harsh tone. The Scherzi benefitted a great deal from Mr. Grante’s fluidity and organization; even with their many repetitions, they never felt long.

Two (very) minor quibbles: 1) At times, the ending cadential formulae of the Ballades seemed a bit perfunctory, considering the grand heroic narratives that had preceded them. 2) I would have enjoyed a presentation by opus number, thereby mixing Scherzi and Ballades.

The enthusiastic audience seemed to realize the great gift they were being given. This is no everyday event. Mr. Grante played the wistful Mazurka in A Minor, Op. 68 No.2, written when Chopin was only seventeen, as a ghostly, nostalgic encore, bringing just enough “fatal optimism” in the C Major modal sections.

There are two more evening planned by Mr. Grante in his series “Masters of High Romanticism,” Schumann sonatas, and Brahms variations. I advise lovers of the piano to go.

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The Douglas and Inyoung Boyd Foundation and The Mason Gross School of the Arts of Rutgers University present A Classical, Jazz, and Chamber Music Extravaganza in Review

The Douglas and Inyoung Boyd Foundation and The Mason Gross School of the Arts of Rutgers University present A Classical, Jazz, and Chamber Music Extravaganza in Review

The Douglas and Inyoung Boyd Foundation and The Mason Gross School of the Arts of Rutgers University present A Classical, Jazz, and Chamber Music Extravaganza
Min Kwon and Fred Hersch, piano; Yoon Kwon, violin; Jonathan Spitz, cello;
Conrad Herwig, trombone; Timothy Cobb, double bass; Choong-Jin (CJ) Chang, viola
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 6, 2014

 

Every so often, a leading conservatory or the music department of a university will book one of the leading New York recital halls for the purpose of presenting their talented, hardworking faculty in concert. This serves the double purpose of providing reward in the form of a major public performance, and good advertising for the faculty and institution, who may attract even more students. On October 6, 2014, it was the turn of Rutgers University’s Mason Gross School of the Arts. A large, affectionate crowd traveled from New Brunswick, New Jersey, and were treated to an unusual programming idea, very well played.

The theme of the first half of the concert was mostly tango or tango-inspired, whether stylized by a classical composer, as in Samuel Barber’s Hesitation Tango from his Souvenirs suite, briskly and beautifully played by Min Kwon and Fred Hersch in its original four-hand guise, or by a jazz composer (Mr. Hersch himself) in his Tango Bittersweet, stylishly rendered for piano trio by sisters Min and Yoon Kwon and Jonathan Spitz.

Mr. Hersch’s well-known affinity for Belle Epoque French music was evident in his lush arrangement of Gabriel Fauré’s song Après un rêve (After a dream), which didn’t fit the tango theme, but whose original words are a translation of a Tuscan folk poem about a lover waking in the dark and begging the illusions of a dream of his/her beloved to return. This was gorgeously played by Mr.Hersch and Yoon Kwon, whose playing all evening had the extra measure of brilliance and star quality that so few have, and did not exclude yearning or lyricism. The pair followed with Nove de Julho (Ninth of July), a composition by Brazilian composer Ernesto Nazareth (1863-1934). The day is a holiday in Sao Paulo state, Brazil, for the constitutionalist revolution of 1932. The classically-trained Nazareth championed the “Brazilian tango,” lest everyone think the dances could only originate in neighboring Argentina. Mr. Hersch played one of his own solo compositions, Heartsong, in which clever rhythmic dislocations, cushioned in complex added-tone harmony, propel the melody to a driving climax, which then subsides.

The hardest working pianist of the evening however was Min Kwon, the chair of keyboard studies at Rutgers. Her liquid tone and seamless phrasing made every piece from the arrangements to Schubert’s Trout Quintet a joy to hear. She was a poised, sometimes humorous, and always gracious colleague.

Two arrangements (Argento: Argentinian Dance #2, and Poulenc: Improvisation #15 Hommage à Edith Piaf, both originally for piano) by jazz composer Bill O’Connell (Rutgers faculty) for trombone and piano constituted perhaps the least convincing element of the program. The trombone’s intonation didn’t always match the piano, and I am not referring to intentional bent or “blue” notes or the like. The volume of this very “present” instrument didn’t accord well with the established palette of piano and strings.

Two arrangements and one composition were included by Grammy award-winning composer Robert Livingston Aldridge, who is also on the Rutgers faculty and director of the music department. He was present at the concert, apparently on his sixtieth birthday. On the first half of the program, was his Bossa-Habanera-Jig, a witty romp through the three dances. On the second half, after Schubert’s Trout Quintet, was his arrangement for the same piano quintet forces of Schubert’s epic ballad/song Erlkönig, in which a father gallops a horse swiftly through a dark forest with his young son on his lap. The son is being seductively lured by the supernatural Erlking. If he gives in, he will die. At first the father is doubtful, but he quickly realizes the seriousness of the boy’s pleas, racing even faster to reach an inn, but it is too late. In his arms, the child lies dead. If you wonder how such a story can even be told without its vocal part, all you have to do is hear this arrangement, in which the characters of the instruments all paint the story vividly. The rendition was fiery and convincing.

Prior to this Erlkönig, and constituting the majority of the second half, was indeed the so-called Trout Quintet by Schubert, whose fourth movement is a set of variations on what had been his “greatest hit song” composed two years earlier. The quintet was written for home music making in the Austrian alpine resort town of Steyr, for an amateur cellist who, according to contemporary comment could “barely negotiate” the cello part. No such worries here, however. All the players had technique to spare, and lavished it on this jovial work. I could have used a little more Gemütlichkeit, homey ease, perhaps not so driven, and with more contrast. There wasn’t enough pianissimo, but the sheer joy of their performance was convincing, and they looked collegially at each other, truly relishing their musical (and academic) partnership.

One encore, another Aldridge arrangement of Harold Arlen’s Somewhere Over the Rainbow was ecstatically played by the Kwon sisters, the violin’s final notes becoming even more ethereal, higher and higher, a perfect ending.

How very lucky are the students of such a fine music department to have these (and I’m sure many other) artists to inspire them.

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Distinguished Concerts International New York presents Tzu-Yi Chen in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York presents Tzu-Yi Chen in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York presents Tzu-Yi Chen
Tzu-Yi Chen, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 11, 2014
 

 

A magnificent recital took place on October 11 by Taipei-born pianist Tzu-Yi Chen. I am going to have to discipline myself not to use every superlative in the first paragraph. Suffice it to say that, in a wide-ranging program, she displayed not only the usual technical command one expects, but beautiful tone, total artistic involvement, deep feeling, stylistic understanding, and in an era of cookie-cutter musicians, the feeling of spontaneity, even risk, that makes an evening truly memorable, often electrifying.

The first half of the recital was devoted to “classicism/variation” and the second half to “programmatic illustration.”

Ms. Chen opened with a jewel of late Mozart, Nine Variations in D major on a Minuet by Jean-Pierre Duport, K. 573, written in 1789 to curry favor for possible employment in Potsdam, to a minuet tune by Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm’s cellist. The theme, ninety percent of which -adheres only to notes found in the tonic triad, was presented with limpid grace, perfect phrasing, and breathing that never went overboard. Each variation unfolded with a plan, yet managed to sound as if she was improvising it on the spot. Each repeat was taken, with subtle and tasteful color differences that never overstepped the vocabulary of the period. In the heart-rending D Minor variation, Ms. Chen inhabited it as if it was a lost lament intended for Pamina in Die Zauberflöte, with the fatality of the Neapolitan sixth chord experienced deeply. Next came one of middle-period Brahms’ more massive creations, the Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Handel, Op. 24. Even from the opening notes of the original Handel, Ms. Chen presented the audience with the sound world of Brahms, an interpretation with which I agree. Every single tempo change and nuance was observed, with never a feeling of over-planning. The music simply seemed to be welling up from some secret source within her. Her sense of lyricism and rubato was beautiful. Her pedaling created sophisticated mixtures of harmony, which are specified by Brahms or at least implied by the notation. I can only single out a few highlights from this giant work: Var. VI, the misterioso was the spookiest I’ve ever heard; Var. XII, the soave was indeed suave; Var. XIV, the sciolto (literally: unbound, or non-legato) was ecstatic; Var. XXII, the Musette floated on a cloud of B-Flat; the mad whirling of Var. XXIV was hair-raising. The fugue was presented as a grand quasi-orchestral sonority, complete with majestic bell-ringing.

After intermission, Ms. Chen played the Suite Astrologique for Piano by a fellow-countryperson, Lan-In Winnie Yang (b. 1980). I’m glad the composer didn’t feel the need to follow the calendar, but arranged the twelve short vignettes, one for each sign, in an order that allows the music to flow best. Her work has many audible influences, Scriabin, Chopin, Schoenberg, Rachmaninoff, even a wink here and there to jazz or ragtime, but it manages to remain original and atmospheric, especially when confided to the rich tonal palette of Ms. Chen. If one had stripped the titles from each piece and simply called the totality “Suite,” I feel it still would have had impact. Ms. Chen closed with the titanic Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky, illustrations in music of artworks by a recently deceased friend of the composer, Victor Hartmann. From the opening notes of the first “Promenade” (Mussorgsky’s unifying device that represents walking through the gallery from picture to picture), she became a completely authoritative “Russian” pianist in tone and brilliance. She really opened up for this work’s fierce demands, but always put the emotional content first. One of my favorite sections, not the loudest or fastest, has always been “Catacombs: Con Mortuis in Lingua Mortua” (With the Dead in a Dead Language), which Ms. Chen played as though she herself had either invented the catacomb many thousands of years ago, or been trapped in one. The audience rose to award her a richly deserved standing ovation after she dispatched the octaves of the “Hut on Fowl’s Legs (Baba-Yagá)” with ferocity, and the “Great Gate of Kiev” was depicted triumphantly.

She favored us with two encores, first the final movement of the Ginastera Piano Sonata No.1, Op. 22, marked Ruvido ed ostinato (rough and obstinate), which was white-hot, and played with both total abandon and control, if that’s not too paradoxical. In the second encore, the Bach/Busoni Ich ruf zu Dir, Herr Jesu Christ emerged as a plaintive call of homesickness to her native country. She has traveled much for her training: Paris, Germany, and she now resides in Washington DC, where she must bring great joy and fine instruction to her students in the Levine School of Music. I would like to hear some of French repertoire the next time she appears and there certainly will be many, many more times.

 

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The Kosciuszko Foundation presents “Musical Life of Galicia” in Review

The Kosciuszko Foundation presents “Musical Life of Galicia” in Review

The Kosciuszko Foundation presents “Musical Life of Galicia”
The Rubinstein Players
Tatiana Chulochnikova, violin; Maria Lyapkova, piano
The Kosciuszko Foundation, New York, NY
September 7, 2014

 

The Rubinstein Players, named for composer Anton Rubinstein, gave a well-played recital of three musical “footnotes” and one canonized master. At the outset, let me say that the two players function beautifully as a duo, with unanimity of thought and feeling. Ms. Chulochnikova has a real feel for the grammar of the Classical period. Her phrasing and intonation were true and singing. Her partner, Ms. Lyapkova, also plays with great sensitivity, although a bit too heavy at times.

Galicia, not to be confused with the province of present-day northwest Spain, was a loosely defined area, belonging to what we call today Poland, Ukraine, even Austro-Hungary.

The theme of “Galicia” was honored in unusual repertory choices. I had never heard a work by Ukrainian-born Maxim Berezovsky (1745-1777), who died at thirty-two, even younger than W.A. Mozart. His Sonata however chugged along somewhat automatically, except for more lyricism in the slow movement, never straying too far from tonic/dominant clichés. This work, for harpsichord and violin, could really have benefited from an early keyboard sound, as could the whole program. The performers’ biographies state that they are “equally at home” with period as well as modern instruments. The piano sounded heavy rather than bustling.

Next they played the Sonata for Violin and Piano, Op. 15, by the youngest son of W.A. Mozart: Franz Xaver (1791-1841, born only a few months prior to his father’s untimely death). He studied with Antonio Salieri, which should put an end to the “Amadeus” discussions of Salieri’s having poisoned W.A. Unfortunately for his well-meaning son, the father cast a long shadow. The son’s work has moments of grace, but the ideas don’t really flow inevitably and there is a certain squareness of phrase structure, which couldn’t be masked, even by the sensitive rendition the duo brought to it.

After intermission, the quality of pieces and performances lifted tremendously. First, with the Sonata by Chopin’s teacher, Jozef Elsner (1769-1854), which had Classical gestures but also a capricious harmonic novelty that seemed pre-Schubertian at times. He was born forty-one years before Chopin, and survived his famous pupil by five years. Elsner was born in Poland, but always insisted that he be identified as Silesian, not Galician. The Sonata was given a sterling performance, and there was no balance issue with the piano.

Finally, the great Sonata in G Major, Op. 30, No.3, by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), who I’m pretty certain would have bristled at being called “Galician.” Born in Bonn, he expatriated himself to Vienna by his early twenties. Again, the oneness of the two players made the most of this often hacked-through work. If anything, it could have used just the extra ounce of impetuous fire that truly wakens middle-period Beethoven. The tempi were cautious—the first movement lacked the assai (very) of the Allegro assai. The second movement, marked Tempo di Minuetto, wound up sounding strangely sleepy, largely as a result of their honoring Beethoven’s “second direction” for the movement: “but very moderate and grazioso.” The finale, which is often played way too fast, is marked Allegro vivace, and again here the initial piano figuration is marked piano (softly) and leggiero (lightly). It was far too heavy, which would not have been an issue at a faster clip. Ms. Lyapkova was excellent, however, in the first two movements, whose difficult figurations held no terrors for her.

The duo favored the audience with an encore, Romance, by their namesake Anton Rubinstein. Here, the violinist’s tone suddenly bloomed into the dark plush Russian romantic sound I associate with her Moscow training. Their ensemble was perfect in this delightful bonbon. I hope these two players will consider lavishing their immense gifts on music of greater interest, while continuing to present unusual works too.

 

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New York Concert Artists and Associates, Inc. presents Na Young Kim in Review

New York Concert Artists and Associates, Inc. presents Na Young Kim in Review

New York Concert Artists and Associates, Inc. presents Na Young Kim
Na Young Kim, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
June 30, 2014

 

Technical standards for pianists have changed in just the thirty-some years since I graduated from conservatory. However, I’m not always certain that musical profundity has kept pace with physiological advances. This is what was brought to mind by the generally fine recital on June 30 by Na Young Kim. She is the chairman of the piano department at Sejong University in Seoul, Korea; and her New York debut was only last year.

Ms. Kim has many attractive qualities as a pianist, not the least of which is her passionate, one might say visionary, commitment to every note and piece that she plays. Her mechanism is very fluent, and she possesses great drive and color. I feel that greater attention to detail and a much wider color palette would lend her interpretations more depth.

She began with Debussy’s second set of Images. In the first, Cloches à travers les feuilles, I felt the mysterious gauzy opening to be splendid, but a closer examination of the score shows that in the first three measures alone, Debussy has composed seven different “levels” of bells. I heard only three. Some of this was due to the extremely bright nature of the top register of the house Steinway in Weill Hall, a factor which should have been mediated and softened by Ms. Kim. There are many melodic lines in voices other than the top that were not given their due and the myriad tints and tones were reduced to a few mainly glassy (though not ugly) ones. The central piece Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut was the most atmospheric. Debussy’s lacquer goldfish, Poissons d’or, were not flirty enough. A few memory lapses and wrong notes marred this otherwise capable rendition.

Her strengths were much better suited to the second section of the program, an excerpt from Messiaen’s sacred suite Vingt Regards sur l’enfant Jésus. Ms. Kim played the eleventh piece, Première communion de la Vierge(“The Virgin’s first communion”). Here, Ms. Kim’s heavenward glances seemed entirely appropriate to summoning the combination of mysticism and notated birdsong that are essential to understanding, and feeling, Messiaen. The score says: “After the Annunciation, Mary adores Jesus within her . . .” You could almost feel the baby kicking in the more boisterous second section. This was truly stunning playing, and one hopes that she will consider learning the entire cycle.

The first half concluded with a standard repertory classic, Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 30 in E Major, Op. 109. This work challenges the intellectual and musical depth in everyone who encounters it, whether player or listener. Attention to detail was somewhat approximate, with contrasts between loud and soft overly exaggerated, but again, played with total commitment. No one ever voices the opening to my satisfaction, so Ms. Kim, you are in “good” company. Her Prestissimo was truly that, and the Variation finale, marked Gesangvoll, mit innigster Empfindung (Songful, with the most intense inward emotion) was quite good, barring the issues of the overly bright top register. It needed more mature mellowness to blossom into the spiritual testament that it embodies.

After intermission, Ms. Kim played a piece that seems to be making the rounds of everyone’s recitals these days (there’s always one or two every season): Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Sonata, Op. 36, in the revised (hard as it is to believe, simplified) version. This she threw herself into with what could almost be termed aggressiveness and big, bold sound, as well as quick tempi that served to organize Rachmaninoff’s sometimes amorphous structures very well. Although the playing became clangorous at times, one could forgive the tone quality in view of what was being pursued by Ms. Kim here: a Niagara-like flow of energy. Caution would have been out-of-place, though I have heard more patrician renderings of the piece. There is certainly a wide scale of possible success in this work, and Ms. Kim definitely found her place within that scale.

 

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Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Under the Western Sky” in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Under the Western Sky” in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Under the Western Sky”
Utah Voices and Legacy Brass Ensemble; Michael D. Huff, director; Carrie Morris, accompanist
Mariachi Espuelas de Plata; Ramon Niño III and Imelda Martinez, co-directors
Cristian Graces, DCINY Debut Conductor; Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
June 22, 2014

 

The program presented by DCINY under the umbrella title of “Under the Western Sky” was really three concerts in one, a rare treat for the enthusiastic audience.

The first half was called “Hometown Praise: Music From Utah,” featuring the Utah Voices, led by Michael D. Huff, accompanied by the Legacy Brass Ensemble and Carrie Morris, keyboard (and an unidentified organist). The large choir  (approximately 110 members by my estimate) was perfectly prepared, in tune, with rich full tone that could produce a thrilling forte or whisper more confidentially at the softer dynamics. If you think “Utah choir” means only the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, you need to hear this group. Only a few times did they threaten to be overwhelmed, balance-wise, by the excellent brass players.

Their selections made one realize what a crucial role the sense of place plays in both faith and patriotism. Standouts included Kurt Bestor’s “Prayer of the Children,” a harrowing plea for peace based on the composer’s experience in Yugoslavia as a Mormon missionary, and Utah composer Leroy Robertson’s setting of “The Lord’s Prayer,” from his Oratorio from the Book of Mormon, NOT to be confused with the irreverent hit Broadway musical. The Irish folk song “Be Thou My Vision” arranged by the conductor, Mr. Huff, was beautifully done, with special contribution from Carrie Morris, finally getting to play the nine-foot Steinway instead of the electronic synthesizer she had been using prior. The section concluded with the rousing English folk song “Thou Gracious God, Whose Mercy Leads,” better known to some as “Oh Waly, Waly.”

After intermission, the tone shifted to a youthful emphasis. First came the charming Mariachi Espuelas de Plata, an award-winning high school group from North Side High School in Fort Worth, Texas. Their three pieces were done with suavity and great flair, using different combinations of the traditional violin, trumpet, guitar, one flute, and one harp, and some vocals.

They then made way for the Distinguished Concert Singers International, a sort of collective choir, indeed international, of all-treble voices from: South Carolina, Indiana, Honduras, California, Australia, Washington State, Norway, Maryland, and Oregon. These girls’ and (unchanged) boys’ voices were scrupulously prepared, each choir by its own regular conductor, before meeting the excellent DCINY debut conductor/composer Cristian Grases.

Much of their work involved the integration of eurhythmics, that method of instilling music in early childhood through the use of bodily movement. You could feel how comfortable everyone was with the complex arrangements, all of which were done with clear diction and excellent pitch and humor, with a choir about double the size of the Utah Voices.

Dr. Grases clearly has a flair for this work, and must be applauded for his care. He was honored with the world premiere of his own Gloria, a setting of the second portion of the Ordinary of the Catholic Mass. Dr. Grases’ is in Spanish, and each of the five sections is a rhythmic travelogue of Latin America, from Colombia to Puerto Rico, the Andes, Venezuela, and Cuba. The joyful bounce was surely appropriate for this most celebratory section of the Mass, even if the numbers did have a certain “sameness” to them, that’s just nit-picking on my part.

Earlier, the choir had imitated the wind, and the conductor invited the audience to join in as well, in “El Viento” from  OperetaEcológica, by Dr. Grases’ teacher, Alberto Grau, whose clever reworking of “La Cucaracha” culminated with the extermination of the bug ( Dr. Grases himself) by a cute child imitating a bug spray can.

The entire afternoon was a multicultural and multi-musical celebration. Bravi!

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Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Dream a Better World . . . Ignite the Spirit!” in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Dream a Better World . . . Ignite the Spirit!” in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Dream a Better World . . . Ignite the Spirit!”
Lincoln High School Gospel Choir, T.H.I.S Movement Players
Darcy Reese, Director
Darnell Davis and The Remnant
Tonia Hughes, special guest
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY
June 14, 2014
  

Good news! Gospel is alive and well in Minnesota. “Gospel” means “good news,” so this is particularly appropriate. Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented a thrilling evening of mission-inspired music in a concert entitled “Dream a Better World…Ignite the Spirit!” at Alice Tully Hall on Saturday, June 14, 2014.

Once in a very great while, all critical apparatus simply must be thrown out the window in favor of a totally emotional “surrender” response to music-making that is so energetic and joyful that words would only diminish it. Nevertheless, I must try with a few words to convey a portion of what took place.

This is the very best of what American youth looks like, in an era when the din of school shootings and bullying threatens to absorb all our attention. Not only was the dedication of the students bursting forth, but the obvious glory of their fine teacher, Darcy Reese, and the supporting musicians and the community that gives rise to the group. The choir celebrates and emphasizes diversity. You can see the joyful commitment on every face. They move and respond naturally to the music in a way the canned antics of the television show Glee can’t equal. This is the real thing: glee.

I was seated amid many Minnesotans, who were beaming with pride. I heard their stories of cancelled flights, and four-, ten-, twelve-hour delays in getting to New York. It was all worth it for them and for the audience. Their children sang a two-hour program of excellent, mostly gospel, arrangements, all from memory. Many solo turns were taken by members of the choir, and they all performed with exquisite poise and sincerity. A few of the pieces were more like “soft” belief-oriented rock, and there were also a few readings made over background music.

The T.H.I.S. (The Hero Inside Shines) Movement was particularly inspiring, with its mission: “We refuse to let the world be as it is. We refuse to blind ourselves by excuses and lies. We are determined to have an effect on the world. We will persevere and change our world, one action, one note at a time.” The students have raised thousands of dollars for worthy causes, including Haiti, Africa, and the “Bully Bench” for children to sit on if they have no one to play with at recess, from a hometown of only 8000 people. If they had blown the roof off of Alice Tully Hall more than metaphorically, I’m certain their life-affirming energy would have spilled over the city, healing and transforming.

Special mention must be made of the heaven-bound singing of the guest artist Tonia Hughes, and one incredible pianist, Aaron Fagerstrom, whose understanding of authentic gospel style goes way beyond his young years. He made me smile when he finished a certain phrase using his wrist as a shock absorber, tapering beautifully and sensitively in the best “classical” manner.

In the words of Ms Reese: “Take the journey, experience the music, and pass it on.” Mission accomplished.

 

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Eunmi Ko in Review

Eunmi Ko in Review

Eunmi Ko, Piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
June 3, 2014

 

Pianist Eunmi Ko gave an exceedingly interesting recital at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall on the evening of June 3, 2014. Her programming was original, as were her interpretations. In general, her strengths are an abundance of technique, as well as a beautiful array of pianistic colors, particularly in the soft dynamic levels.

She began with Mécanisme, the first movement of the two-movement work Dichotomie (2000), by conductor/composer Esa-Pekka Salonen (b. 1958), which she plunged into without even waiting for the welcoming applause to die down. The piece has a certain steely resolve that suits its title, as well as an over-reliance on glissandi; but it creates sonorities that are not often heard from the piano, particularly in Ko’s headlong, momentum-filled rendition. In the composer’s own words: “Mécanisme, is indeed like a machine, but not a perfect one: more like one of the Tinguely sculptures (or mobiles, they really defy all attempts to categorize them), which are very active, extroverted and expressive, but produce nothing concrete. I imagined a machine that could feel some sort of joie de vivre, and in that process, i.e. becoming human, would lose its cold precision.”

Then came the poignant cycle O matince, Op. 28 (About Mother), by Czech composer Josef Suk (1874-1935). Composed in 1907, its five sections are reflective of the various functions of a mother in the course of her life. Obsessive pedal points are found in each movement, symbolizing different things: the enthusiasm of the young mother, springtime, singing to comfort a sick child, her own heartbeat, and finally a remembrance, presumably after the death of the mother. The music was beautifully presented by Ms. Ko, with gleaming color and balances, making it sound more like forward-looking Janáček than a fond look backward to the nineteenth century.

After intermission came a New York premiere with the neo-Baroque high jinks of John Liberatore’s She Rose, and let me in: Variations and Fugue on a Scottish Folk Song, after F. J. Haydn (2013), which takes as its pretext the words to a folksong about seduction, intercourse, unintended pregnancy, and regret, all wrapped up in a happy ending. As Mr. Liberatore’s own aesthetic statement says: “He endeavors to bring together seemingly contradictory aesthetic tendencies: nuance with overtness, strangeness with purpose, levity with depth and sincerity, and outward simplicity with subtle complexity.” All of which was achieved in this witty, whimsical, sometimes abrupt work, whose accessibility to the listener masks its difficulty for the pianist. Ms. Ko had no trouble clarifying the textures, especially in the Fugue. In the concluding Epilogue, played at the softest dynamic levels achievable on the piano, where individual notes from the theme and its variations are heard individually with extreme registral transposition. It was the loveliest playing of the evening, and it was truly magical. The composer, present in the sparse but enthusiastic audience, was duly honored, and must have been pleased.

To conclude, Ms. Ko played an often-heard masterpiece from the core nineteenth-century repertoire: Schumann’s Fantasie, Op. 17. To this work she brought a fierce momentum, organizing it toward the “long line” rather than allowing herself to get caught up in myriad details. This approach resulted in a different interpretation for the piece than one often hears, and I quickly became accustomed to it, usually with pleasure. Her tone was liquid, and there was plenty of poetry, but not bathos or sentimentality. The concluding chords of the first movement seemed to emanate from another world, so quiet were they. In the famously terrifying (to pianists) “skips” of the second movement, she plunged with abandon, the tempo pressing forward boldly. One could forgive the occasional missed note in light of the sheer drive. She brought out a puckish or impish side that is rarely heard in this movement. For me, the only blemish of the recital was the third section of this work, played too quickly and which ended far too loudly, as though Ms. Ko was afraid to let the piece become introverted again, as it should. This work has always been a programming challenge for pianists: where to put it, precisely because of this soft ending. Have courage, pianists!

She offered an encore: Chopin’s Etude Op. 10, No.4, played at a cartoon-chase tempo, way too fast for any poetic musical sense to emerge, but astonishing as a feat of sheer digital prowess. It was a well-earned romp after a well-played demanding program.

 

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New York Concert Artists & Associates presents Winners’ Evening—An Evening of Piano Concerti in Review

New York Concert Artists & Associates presents Winners’ Evening—An Evening of Piano Concerti in Review

New York Concert Artists & Associates “Winners’ Evening—Evening of Piano Concerti”
Merkin Concert Hall, Kaufman Center; New York, NY
May 19, 2014
Suzana Bartal; Photo Credit: Vincent Mentzel

Suzana Bartal; Photo Credit: Vincent Mentzel


The New York Concert Artists & Associates presented three young artists on May 19 in concerti, one for harp and two for piano. According to founder Klara Min, NYCA&A is a “modern-day realization of Robert Schumann’s Davidsbund, an imagined spiritual fraternity of creative minds.” Whether those values were present at this concert is open for debate, but three aspiring concert artists appeared and played very well. I should say: two played with goodness, and one played with greatness.

The curtain raiser was billed as a “Concerto for Harp and String Orchestra” by Vivaldi (RV93). It was a transcription of one originally for lute, today commonly heard on the guitar. Vivaldi would certainly not have recognized the giant chromatic pedal harp, played by Hae Soo Hahn with great charm, accompanied by a small group of string players led by the excellent Eduard Zilberkant. Ms. Hahn found a variety of colors within the admittedly somewhat restrained palette of the harp’s tone. Notions of historically informed performance practice were banished from this rendition. Mr. Zilberkant gave a very genteel tempo to the first movement’s Allegro moderato, which allowed the music to breathe.

A word here about the NYCA Symphony Orchestra and Mr. Zilberkant is in order, for the following two concerti were both war-horses of the late-Romantic era. It must have been a challenge to fit the requisite players on the small stage of Merkin Hall, itself too small for a presentation of this kind. Acoustically, the sound can’t bloom, and there were frequent balance and intonation problems. However, Mr. Zilberkant was an extremely lyrical leader of this scrappy group, treating every phrase as though he had the Philadelphia Orchestra in front of him. He was also an ideal, flexible collaborator for the soloists.

 

Vladimir Milosevich

Vladimir Milošević

The first piano concerto was the celebrated Grieg A Minor, Op. 16, played with great power and intention by Suzana Bartal. Her strengths lay in the direction of volume and flair, which did not exclude a few moments of subtlety. One wished for more delicacy and poetry however, in the second movement, and in many portions of the outer movements as well. Perhaps she will grow into that and not force the tone so much. Many in the large enthusiastic audience rewarded her with loud applause.

After intermission, Vladimir Milošević played the equally well-known Tchaikovsky First Concerto in B-Flat Minor, Op. 23. Instead of the opening “crashing” chords one usually hears, there emerged full, warm, elegant blocks of tone. His technique was a joy to behold, with flexible wrists that cushioned and created beautiful sound at all dynamic levels. He found colors and phrase shapes that I had forgotten were even possible in this overplayed masterpiece. There was no technical problem in this virtual encyclopedia of “nasty passages” that wasn’t solved with utmost fluidity, combined with poetry. He also appeared to be enjoying himself, sporting with the piece and meshing with the conductor—a hallmark of the highest virtuosity.

I read with dismay that current flooding in Mr. Milošević’s native Serbia is threatening to engulf a Nikola Tesla power plant that provides over half that country’s electricity. If only they could harness the electricity from Mr. Milošević’s beautiful playing, I’m certain they’d be fine.

 

 

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Hee Sung Jang in Review

Hee Sung Jang in Review

Hee Sung Jang, Piano
New York Debut Recital
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 22, 2014

 

Pianist Hee Sung Jang, born in Korea, made her New York debut recital on April 22 at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. There were moments of magic in every selection, even when certain details were lacking.

She opened with Haydn’s Piano Sonata in C Minor, Hob. XVI: 20, certainly a gem of this repertoire, but a somewhat odd way to open a recital, because of the work’s essential austerity. It doesn’t sparkle and tease the way many of Haydn’s works do. Brahms liked this sonata so much that he stole the opening rhythmic/melodic gesture of the first movement for his song Immer leiser wird mein Schlummer. Her phrasing and tone quality were stylish throughout, but only in the songful middle movement (Andante con moto) did Ms. Jang reveal how deep her emotional involvement was with the music. It was truly lovely.

She followed that with Ravel’s Valses nobles et sentimentales, which was refreshingly distortion-free, played with flexibility rather than gooey rubato. A number of wrong notes threatened to (but didn’t fatally) mar the performance, which could also have used more gradations in the softer dynamics.

The final group prior to intermission consisted of three of the late pianist Earl Wild’s seven virtuoso etudes based on songs by George Gershwin: Somebody Loves Me, Embraceable You, and I Got Rhythm. Perhaps the epigram that precedes the Ravel Valses: “The delicious and always new pleasure of a useless occupation”- could also be applied to these works. Ms. Jang certainly had sufficient technique to negotiate easily their florid demands. Her piano tone was sumptuous, however, in the first two song/etudes she lacked that little “spark” of wit and coquettishness that Wild had. I call it “playing with a wink.” You know you’re great and you’re having fun. Fortunately, she connected with precisely that quality in the final I Got Rhythm, whose concluding forearm cluster delighted everyone, including Ms. Jang.

After intermission, she tackled (and subdued) the Rachmaninoff Second Piano Sonata, in the composer’s “slimmed down” 1931 revised version. It is hard to believe the work was once nearly twice as long, with even more sequential development and thickets of difficult notes. This was by far the best prepared and executed work on the program, with all of Ms. Jang’s admirable qualities, that tone, and an ability to organize all the passages to form a coherent whole. Although her command of the score was total, I only wished for a bit more fiery abandon. Her delicate lyrical moments were superb however.

Overall: beautiful playing by a very tasteful pianist, with good emotional connection to the music. As she develops under the tutelage of her current teacher, master pianist Anton Nel, I’m sure she will grow into her already large gifts.

 

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