Korea Music Foundation presents Jung-Ja Kim in Review

Korea Music Foundation presents Jung-Ja Kim in Review

Jung-Ja Kim, piano
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center; New York, NY
April 15, 2014

 

The Korea Music Foundation presented Jung-Ja Kim, pianist, in an interesting benefit recital at Alice Tully Hall on April 15. Ms. Kim, a winner of many competitions, including the Young Concert Artists International, New York Philharmonic Young People’s Concerts, and the Kosciuszko Chopin Competition, is now a veteran of the international concert circuit, and a professor of piano at the Boston Conservatory.

Ms. Kim had the intriguing programming idea of three of Maurice Ravel’s major works, plus one work (also major) by American composer Aaron Copland. From the outset, it was clear that Ms. Kim possesses a great pianistic elegance, beautiful sound, and astonishing technical fluency, even in the thorniest passages of the Ravel works. She also possesses a deeply personal approach to each phrase, leading the lines where she wants them to go, with obvious emotional commitment. That being said, it wasn’t always the best choice for some of the programmed Ravel pieces.

The Sonatine, a pristine neo-Classical jewel, with which she opened the program, was beautifully presented, poignantly and clearly. More attention could have been paid to the contrapuntal lines and voicing. The whole seemed a bit too hazy, although well-played and convincing.

In the Miroirs (Mirrors), a five-movement programmatic set of “reflections” on objects (or sounds), two of the five were absolutely stunning, benefitting from Ms. Kim’s introspective playing: the Oiseaux tristes (Sad Birds), and La Vallée des cloches (The Valley of the Bells), which chirped, sighed, and reverberated appropriately, and had gorgeous voicing. In the other three, however, one wished for more irony and sharp humor, an important part of Ravel’s “Apache” esthetic. The Noctuelles (Night Moths) didn’t vanish into thin air (or ash), as they ought. The climaxes in Une Barque sur l’océan (A Boat on the Ocean) never rose high enough to engulf the sailboat. The dry wit of the jester in the Alborada del gracioso was insufficiently biting; the central recitative section was beautifully delineated however.

Probably the least successful performance of the night, for me, was Ravel’s Valses nobles et sentimentales, though one would never have guessed it from the enthusiastic audience reception—again a testament to the communicative power of Ms. Kim. In the very first waltz, she was far from très franc (very forthright) as requested by Ravel. She distorted every measure with great rubati, which Ravel despised. This mannerism grew throughout the work, despite much beautiful piano coloration. Ravel’s score is lavishly marked, with words he seldom used, such as très expressif and also the dreaded rubato, but he wanted it precisely where he had indicated. Only the seventh waltz was played really beautifully, with the lilting charm it needed. Ms. Kim also waited too long between every waltz, even when most are marked to follow immediately. She spoiled what Yvonne Lefébure (a Ravel pupil who worked with him for over one hour on just the first few measures of the first waltz) called the “essential philosophical unity” of the seven waltzes plus nostalgic Épilogue.

Suddenly, with Copland’s masterful Piano Variations (1930), a new, fierce, pianist seemed to take the stage. The theme is a mere four notes long (E, C, D#, C#), a sort of distorted transformation of the four note subject of Bach’s C-Sharp Minor Fugue from The Well-Tempered Clavier Book I. The fourth note isn’t even played; it is depressed silently while other notes are struck violently and released, leaving the “ghost” note to vibrate its overtones. This establishes many of the procedures for the rest of the piece: 20 variations and a coda. I’ve always felt that this work is a successor in importance, if not in Romanticism, to Schumann’s Études Symphoniques. Ms. Kim played this thorny example of American modernism with appropriate verticality and great momentum, lyricism where required, and sparkling wit in the more playful passages. It was a memorable rendition of this neglected work.

She favored the clamoring crowd with one encore: Schubert’s G-Flat Major Impromptu, played with deeply personal, rapt lyricism. She was in private communion with the music, as she had been all evening.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Scriabin Society of America presents Alexander Scriabin: The Russian Prometheus in Review

The Scriabin Society of America presents Alexander Scriabin: The Russian Prometheus in Review

Alexander Scriabin: The Russian Prometheus
Dmitry Rachmanov, piano
Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 13, 2014

 

Dmitry Rachmanov’s all-Scriabin piano recital on Sunday, April 13, 2014, was indeed a “poem of ecstasy” in every sense: giant in conception, quantity, quality, execution, thoughtfulness, and sensitivity. Anchored by four of Scriabin’s ten piano sonatas (numbers 2, 4, 10, and 5), the “little” pieces in between were hardly palate cleansers, and each half of the recital was masterfully organized so that each piece led to the next one logically. Some might say that an entire afternoon of only Scriabin was too limiting, but with such intelligent programming it had all the variety one could wish for, along with the underlying unity of the composer’s musical values and mystical philosophy.

Let me describe something not often touched upon in reviews—stage demeanor and piano presence. When Mr. Rachmanov took the stage, he seemed absorbed in steely concentration, as would any conscientious interpreter at that moment. There was no grandstanding here. His technique was a marvel to witness: he never left the surface of the keys, no matter how fast or fierce the figures. This enabled him to achieve the utmost richness of tone and glorious voicing, with never a harsh tone, even at Scriabin’s wildest, most extroverted visionary moments.

From the very first chords of the Prelude, Op 13, No. 1, the deep authentic Russian tone was established, never to be abandoned at any point in this wonderful afternoon. In the Second Sonata, one clearly heard the moonlight glistening on the waves of the Black Sea, where Scriabin spent his honeymoon (the composer’s own programmatic association), which evolved into the tempestuous waves of a capricious ocean in the Presto second movement.

Mr. Rachmanov allowed the tension to relax with a flirtatious rendition of the Waltz, Op. 38, a sort of deconstructed “caprice-waltz.” When the opening theme returned in forte octaves, one was conscious neither of strain nor of any slowing down.

He captured the volando (flying) quality of the Fourth Sonata perfectly, again, with hands close to the keys. This is a pianist’s pianist. His students are certainly lucky to have the opportunity for him to transmit his skill to them. The Tenth Sonata abounds in descriptive directions to the performer (in French) that supplement the purely musical ones we usually encounter (my translation): very soft and pure, with deep and veiled ardor, luminous, vibrating, with emotion, restless, panting, with flair, with joyous exaltation . . . to name but a few. All were captured perfectly with Mr. Rachmanov’s seemingly limitless color range. This is no small point in a composer, Scriabin, who some believe had the condition known as synesthesia, one form of which is the hearing of sounds as distinct colors.

Mr. Rachmanov closed with the Fifth Sonata, written about the same time as the Poem of Ecstasy, and containing the composer’s credo: “I call you to life, oh mysterious forces!” Behind all the pianistic richness, one senses glimpses of worlds that only Scriabin could experience directly. Mr. Rachmanov helped everyone go toward their own visions, with his expert performances.

He favored the large, enthusiastic audience with three encores, including the omnipresent Étude, Op. 8, No. 12, a war-horse of Horowitz. Here it sounded more massive, as though the color was being revealed from within, rather than applied as make-up (and I am a Horowitz fan).

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
music: LX presents Claudia Galli and Grégory Moulin in Review

music: LX presents Claudia Galli and Grégory Moulin in Review

Richard Strauss–des racines et des ailes
Claudia Galli, soprano; Grégory Moulin, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
March 11, 2014

 

In a recital presented by music:LX and the Consulate General of the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg, soprano Claudia Galli and pianist Gregory Moulin had the intriguing idea of an all-German Lieder recital showing the “roots” of Richard Strauss’ song writing and the “wings” of influence he may have cast on successors. This program so rich in promise, both in theory and on paper, didn’t achieve its potential, due to flaws in both programming and execution.

The pair didn’t stray far enough from Strauss’ Op. 10, his first published song opus, which admittedly contains many of his “greatest hits,” but is not necessarily indicative of the theme. They did include one from Op. 19, two from Op. 27 and two from Op. 68, but there are dozens more to choose from. I personally would have preferred to hear some early Schoenberg (Op. 2 or  Op.6) and Korngold Lieder, which truly show the expansion of late-Romantic tonality and the “influence” of Richard Strauss. Neither Schumann nor Brahms made a really convincing case for being a “predecessor” except chronologically.

Lieder is an extremely subtle art form, and is heavily detail oriented, with much of that centering on revelation of the word, first in its musical interpretation by the composer, then by the perfection and nuance of idiomatic diction coupled with good singing by the performer (supported, of course, by an equally fine pianist).

For the first recital in a major US tour, taking place in one of the premiere New York small recital halls, Ms. Galli had a music stand and did not have the music memorized: strike number one. She made many rather histrionic gestures that didn’t suit the words being sung and she had an annoying habit of fiddling with her hair, even during one of the pianist’s postludes, which suggested that she was unconcerned with what came after her part was over. The song isn’t “done” until the last note of the piano part.

Her voice was large, somewhat over-darkened, and suffered from placement issues and lack of subtle control. The word Einerlei for instance, emerged as “oy-nur-loy,” and so on. She sounded well at times, but not often enough. The song selections themselves seemed to be for many different voice types, from lighter to more dramatic, a range too broad for Ms. Galli’s ability at present.

I thought the pianist would be the special element here. Mr. Moulin played with lyricism and support. But then he botched the rapt introductory measures to Wolf’s Anakreons Grab, which was also played too quickly to create the proper mood of wistful reflection. Later, Mr. Moulin became simply messy (over pedaled) and a bit too loud throughout.

The words to all the songs were not attended to with the specific myriad details that are found in the finest Lieder recitals. Ms. Galli’s technical limitations, and perhaps a propensity to a “bigger” operatic style, would not permit it. For me, the surprising successes were two songs that I had expected to be not so good: Strauss’ Ruhe meine Seele (Op. 27, No 1) and his An die Nacht from the late Op. 68 set. Both are conceived for a large voice, and here Ms. Galli sounded at least comfortable. But the other Op. 68 song she did, Ich wollt ein Sträusslein binden was labored, with the garlands of melismas way too heavy, depriving the message of charm.

All music lovers need to be grateful when any young persons show an interest in this refined musical genre, but the performers need to make sure they are really making the best possible case for it.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
New York Concert Artists and Associates presents Viviana Lasaracina, pianist in Review

New York Concert Artists and Associates presents Viviana Lasaracina, pianist in Review

Winner of 2013 Carnegie Debut Recital-Viviana Lasaracina, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
March 5, 2014
 

Viviana Lasaracina, a young Italian pianist currently studying in London, made an auspicious debut on March 5 in Weill Recital at Carnegie Hall in a program of works by Clara Schumann, Robert Schumann, Scriabin, and Rachmaninoff. Ms. Lasaracina was presented by the New York Concert Artists and Associates as a winner of their 2013 competition.

From the first velvety chord of the first Romance by Clara Schumann, I knew the music and the audience were in good hands. Let me enumerate the admirable qualities in Ms. Lasaracina’s playing: beautiful liquid tone, never a harsh or unmusical sound, exquisite phrasing and phrase shape, generous breathing, a personal sense of poetry and exploration, color and superb pedaling mixtures, contrapuntal awareness, and ability to clarify even the most dense textures and still respond passionately to the music. That’s quite a list of virtues. Ms. Lasaracina did well to open with the Three Romances, Op. 21, by Clara Schumann. They were among her last published compositions, written shortly after the death of her husband Robert. Clara endured the grueling life of a traveling virtuoso in the mid-nineteenth century as breadwinner for her family, which contained eight children as well as her manic-depressive, albeit genius, husband. She would outlive her husband for forty years, a pioneering female in the “boys club” of the virtuosi. The first Romance is truly the gem of the set. Brahms, who played solo piano infrequently, was said to have programmed it. It is imbued with a seriousness that the rest of Clara Schumann’s output often avoids. As rendered by Ms. Lasaracina, one heard the elegiac strains, sounding almost like pointers to the heavier Russian sentiments she would explore on the second half of the program. She followed with the complete Fantasiestücke, Op. 12, by Robert Schumann. They are often heard excerpted, but here the set gained by its integrality. Ms. Lasaracina lived each of the frequent mercurial mood shifts completely, making us feel as though the music was emanating directly from her and composed on the spot, which was no small achievement. The middle section of the fifth Fantasy “In der Nacht” was absolutely heartbreaking in its songful simplicity, a result that concealed the great art behind it. Also wonderful was the “question” piece “Warum?” and the conclusion “Ende vom Lied.”

After intermission, she began with Two Poèmes, Op. 32, by Alexander Scriabin, the Russian mystical composer who many believe had synesthesia, a mixing of sensory input that caused him to hear sounds as colors. These two pieces stand on the cusp of his post-Chopin manner and his outright mystical explorations that many listeners did not understand, and that are still being mined for their content. If there was anything negative I could say, it would be that in the second of the Poems, Ms. Lasaracina did not quite “take flight” to the ecstatic manic degree that truly makes Scriabin work.

She finished with the entire set of Six Moments musicaux by Sergei Rachmaninoff. The title indicates the spiritual inheritance of Schubert, who also wrote a set of six same-titled pieces, but the scale and virtuosity of these leave Schubert far, far behind. Needless to say, Ms. Lasaracina had every bit of the virtuosity required to negotiate this richly ornamented score, but what was even more remarkable was that the line, the musical thought itself, was never obscured or lost amid the welter of flying notes. She has played in a master class by Lazar Berman, the great Russian pianist who was the first I ever heard play these works, so she spoke the idiom very well. For this listener, the fifth, the somewhat more introspective D-flat major Adagio Sostenuto, was the absolute pinnacle of the set. The colors and intimacy were breathtaking.

Ms. Lasaracina favored her enthusiastic and large audience with an encore: the Étude-Tableau Op. 39, No. 1, by Rachmaninoff, dispatched with clarity and ferocity.

A word to the presenters: The lack of a printed program and program notes is quite inexcusable in a major New York concert hall.

 

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
An Evening of Contemporary Music in Review

An Evening of Contemporary Music in Review

An Evening of Contemporary Music: Compositions by George Oakley, Richard Danielpour, Justin Dello Joio
Inga Kashakashvili, Steven Masi, Nino Jvania, Piano; Mary Mackenzie, Soprano; Anton Rist, Clarinet; Jay Campbell, Cello
Merkin Concert Hall, Kaufman Center; New York, NY
February 9, 2014

 An evening of contemporary music is indeed truly new when one of three composers on the program is completely unknown to the reviewer. In this case, the Tbilisi (Republic of Georgia) native George Oakley bookended works by his two composition teachers in a well-played program. All three of the composers share certain affinities and influences: neo-Romanticism, neo-Impressionism. Thank goodness academia has ceased to devalue, or worse, ridicule, music that allows the expression of sentiment through a more traditional use of tonality. All the music on the program was readily comprehensible, clear in structure, and beguiling in sonority. Harold Bloom wrote of the “anxiety of influence,” but this evening was more about influence without anxiety.

Mr. Oakley’s two Shakespeare sonnet settings (Sonnets 56 and 111) were sensitively set, despite the fact that, as Mr. Oakley reminded us, he is not a native English speaker. He “did not kill the spirit of love with a perpetual dullness,” although the songs could have benefited from clearer diction by Mary Mackenzie. Here, one was aware of a sort of “song continuum” from Georges Auric to Ned Rorem and Henri Sauguet, down to Mr. Oakley. The collaborative pianist in the Shakespeare settings, Inga Kashakashvili, segued effortlessly into the Debussy-like colors of three of Richard Danielpour’s From the Enchanted Garden Preludes, Vol. II. Her touch was liquid at all times, with seemingly limitless color, and one always sensed that she meant every note intensely. She also brought out the raucous, jazzy jokiness of “There’s a Ghost in my Room!”

Remembrance for clarinet and piano, by Mr. Oakley, was a world premiere. Its tone was predominantly elegiac, as befit the title. The first section Daydream began in imitative style, interrupted by Dream, a more impassioned outburst, concluding with Awakening, a return to the opening material transformed. Perhaps Mr. Oakley will find more variety in his structures as he matures. Nearly everything was in a very audible three-part A-B-A (sometimes with Coda) form. The performance was beautifully shaded by clarinetist Anton Rist and pianist Nino Jvania. Prelude, Nocturne, and Toccata by Mr. Oakley was given an exciting reading by Ms. Kashakashvili. She never made an ugly piano sonority, even when the music turned more extroverted.

Pianist Steven Masi gave a ferociously virtuosic performance of Justin Dello Joio’s  Two Concert Etudes: Momentum and Farewell. This reviewer did not expect the most “progressive” sounds of the evening to be in this work, but they were. Glimmers of the Scherzo from Barber’s Piano Sonata seemed to be peeking through the rapid-fire textures of Momentum. Dedicated to the memory of Danish opera and film star Poul Arne Bundgaard, Farewell was somber, implying rather than stating its tonality directly, perhaps a metaphor for the death of its dedicatee.

The programming was excellent, saving the best for last, another world premiere, Mr. Oakley’s Sonata for Cello and Piano. This is an extended three movement work, given an impassioned and marvelously “together” rendition by cellist Jay Campbell and the masterful Ms. Kashakashvili. The work was excellently crafted, real chamber music, and the unanimity of the two artists was stunning, not only in their delivering of the musical text, but in their intention. In his program note, Mr. Oakley expressed concern about his ability to write a lighter, happy sort of Finale. He succeeded, without triviality. This work deserves to take its place in the smallish repertoire of cello sonatas, and to be essayed by intrepid conservatory students and other recitalists.

Overall, these composers are extremely fortunate to have performing artists of this caliber take up their music and fill it with such beauty and commitment. It was also heartening to see so many younger children in the audience, listening intently. The Cello Sonata was dedicated to one of these smartly dressed children: Dylan Carlson, son of the principal producer of the event.

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

Musica de Camara in Review

Musica de Camara:“La Passione” A Saint Valentine’s Celebration
Romantic works by Bach, Chopin, Mozart, Schubert, Montsalvatge, Schumann
Byron Marc Sean, piano; Brian Sanders, cello; Camille Ortiz-Lafont, soprano
Christ and St Stephens Church; New York, NY
February 14, 2014

 

Musica de Camara is a thirty-four year old organization with the valuable mission of increasing performance opportunities and audience awareness in minority communities, especially, but not exclusively, among Hispanics and Latinos. An enthusiastic audience turned out for the concert, a respite from the relentless February weather. The founder of Musica de Camara, Eva de la O, was the personification of charm in her pre-concert greeting, in which she shared her dismay at a radio interview when she was a performer (soprano), during which the interviewer said that he didn’t know there were any Puerto Rican classical musicians, or any appreciation of the repertoire.

All the selections were from the standard repertoire, appropriate for a lighter “Valentine’s Day” event, although I would have welcomed some contemporary Latin classical music, to bolster the mission statement. I understand this will occur on their next concert. Again, in keeping with the spirit of the occasion, I can report that all the performances were heartfelt, even when details slid by the board. In a program of such standard repertoire, the pressure on the musicians is much higher, because of inevitable comparison with all who have gone before. Each of the three musicians was very sensitive, but at their young stage of development, they may need further technical refinement to take their rightful place among the very best.

The discovery of the evening for me was the cellist Brian Sanders, who opened the program with two movements from Bach’s Suite for Solo Cello No. 3 in C Major, BWV 1009, played with flawless intonation, and natural phrasing, despite his unusual bow hold. It made me wish to hear the entire suite, which was probably considered too heavy for the occasion. Perhaps the tie-in with “Valentine’s” is that the only extant manuscript copy of the cello suites is in the hand of Bach’s second wife, Maria Magdalena.

Pianist Byron Marc Sean followed with a rendition of Chopin’s Berceuse, Op 57. One critic compared the colors of the piece to the “shifting hues of an eggshell,” and for the performer the piece can be like walking on those same shells, so exposed and delicate is the writing. The tempo and lyricism were appealing, but it lacked the ultimate intimacy, delicacy, and repose to make it a convincing lullaby. Perhaps some of this was due to opening nerves and a strident piano heard on a tile floor with no absorbing textiles.

Soprano Camille Ortiz-Lafont then performed two art songs by Mozart. The wistful Abendempfindung (Evening Mood) was charming, if somewhat forced. An Chloë (To Chloe) was performed too slowly for this impetuous, adolescent “study” for the character of Cherubino. Both were marred by peculiarities in the German diction.

Mr. Sean found a better match in his rendition of Chopin’s Barcarolle, Op 60, where the tempo and big line were nicely managed, even when certain passages were a bit approximate. However, in the magical “kiss in the gondola” moment, marked dolce sfogato (gently expressed) by Chopin, Mr. Sean’s moment was expressed none too gently. After intermission, Mr. Sean found his stride with his best performance: Chopin’s B Flat Minor Nocturne, Op 9, No. 1. Here his lyricism was heard to advantage, and he handled the repetitive middle section with much more color than is often heard.

Ms. Ortiz-Lafont sang two of Schubert’s best-known songs: Die Forelle (The Trout) and Gretchen am Spinnrade (Gretchen at the Spinning Wheel). In both, the tempi were pushed, depriving the music of charm in the first song, and cumulative passion in the second. I don’t imagine that any of today’s young people have ever seen a spinning wheel, let alone operated one, to understand the “tempo” at which it performs its work. Again, the German diction was so peculiar that it undermined Ms. Ortiz-Lafont’s emotional involvement with the music. Her high notes tend to stick out from the rest of her tone, rather than integrate into her pleasing general sound. Then, as if from heaven, she followed with two songs by the Spanish Catalan composer Xavier Montsalvatge from his Cinco Canciones Negras. Singing in her native language released a flood of effortless musicality and charm that I knew she possessed. Mr. Sean rose to the occasion with fine collaborative pianism.

The concert concluded with the return of cellist Sanders and pianist Sean in the Three Fantasy Pieces by Schumann, Op 73. These were performed with beautiful soaring cello tone, perfect intonation and vibrato, and really fine piano colors underneath. Romantic ardor was entirely present and given realization by both performers. The audience was duly thrilled.

Ms. Ortiz-Lafont favored the room with the delicious encore Del Cabello mas sutil by Fernando Obradors.

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