Yi-Chih Lu, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

July 6, 2022

A nearly full hall greeted the New York recital debut of Taipei-born pianist Li-Chih Lu. Mr. Lu plays with magisterial fluency of technique, beautiful tone at all times, and most importantly a deep passionate emotional involvement, which was visible even though the artist played the entire recital masked. His elasticity of phrasing and natural sense of color, based on a deep understanding of harmonic tension and release, was often breathtaking, more often than not in fact, though it could also become a liability, as I shall try to describe.

Scant information was provided on the flyer that served as a program: Artists please make (or have your managers make) a proper program with program notes. Mr. Lu appears to be a young man in his mid-twenties, and to fill a recital hall at this time of year (season over, etc.) is no small accomplishment. After hearing him, I can understand how he would generate such enthusiastic devotion. After Taiwan, Mr. Lu completed training in Berlin and Vienna, though no teachers were mentioned. He won Taiwan’s Golden Melody Award (equivalent of our Grammy), though it didn’t state for which of his recordings.

The entire first half of the recital was devoted to all four of Chopin’s Scherzi. Spaced through the composer’s rather short career at regular intervals, these constitute just one of the many “diaries in music” that Chopin left us. Though Chopin never played all four of them at one sitting, nor intended that they be experienced thus, it has become accepted to engage in the omnibus approach. Certainly, there is more than enough variety to sustain such a hearing, and Mr. Lu provided it. Amid a stunning rendition of all four, I would have to rank them from “most fabulous” to “less” fabulous as Nos. 3, 4, 1, 2. I shall discuss them in that order.

The third scherzo, in C-sharp minor, is dedicated to one of Chopin’s favorite students, Adolphe Gutmann, who began lessons with him at age fifteen, and whose octave technique was said to be legendary. Mr. Lu could be said to be the reincarnation of Gutmann on this one point alone, though there was so much more to his interpretation. The sweeping sense of lyricism that was enabled by the sureness of his technique moved this reviewer to tears, and miracle of miracles, it was never bangy. The tiny notes (“waterfall” passage) that accompany the contrasting second hymn-like theme were spectacular. Believe me, I have heard everyone- Richter, Gilels, Ashkenazy, Perlemuter, Arrau, Ax. This traversal of the scherzo can take its place next to theirs.

Perhaps the most “playful” of the four, the fourth scherzo, in E major, has a bouncy up and down chord riff that is very awkward to play, but which sounded effortless in the hands of Mr. Lu. However, he rightly saved the golden treasure for the theme of the sorrowful middle section, nocturne-like, which was varied on each return. One of the characteristics of the grand Romantic style of playing, in fact, is finding new colors in repetitive material, a major strength of Mr. Lu, and a must in the scherzi, which contains many repeats.

The first scherzo, in B minor, for the first time in my concert-going life, actually seemed humorous in its outer sections, which are usually rendered as something more sinister. Mr. Lu’s incredible keyboard facility is what clarified this thick, difficult music, and he actually enabled us to hear, on a monstrous 9-foot modern Steinway, some of the gossamer, proto-Impressionist delicate haze that Chopin was said to create on his lighter Pleyel instruments. The middle section’s lullaby (Rock-a-bye, little Jesus, my little pearl…) was gorgeously played, and in context, one could speculate that the “joke” in this scherzo was how could Mary ever get him to sleep with all the commotion of the outer sections.

Mr. Lu’s presentation of the second scherzo, in B-flat minor, was the most “conventional” though still astonishing in its sense of discovery, that “seeking and finding” that make a performance memorable. I suspect Chopin would have wanted to work with Mr. Lu for many, many hours on the famous triplets of the first theme: the composer wanted them to sound questioning, and would not yield until the student achieved that quality. Here, Mr. Lu was somewhat dry rather than questioning.

After intermission, there was a potpourri of repertoire that showed off Mr. Lu’s above stated strengths, primarily a technical brilliance that gave him the freedom to indulge in his passionate sense of lyrical rubato.

I am a Czerny fan, not for the hundreds of etudes that have terrorized nearly two hundred years’ worth of piano students, but for his serious piano sonatas and chamber music, which can be quite innovative. Unfortunately, the Fantasie brillante on themes from Le Nozze di Figaro is not one of those innovative pieces. It is in fact rather “stupid,” serving only as a show-off piece, and even Mr. Lu’s enormous gifts couldn’t rescue it from triteness. I apologize for seeming harsh, but an artist needs to learn repertoire selection too. It was a shame for Mr. Lu to squander his enormous talent on this work. He ought rather explore the rich territory, for example, of Liszt’s many operatic paraphrases.

Lu then continued with three arrangements of traditional Taiwanese folksongs. I may arouse the wrath of some vintage piano recital goers, but here Mr. Lu’s ear and technique reminded me of the legendary Earl Wild, perhaps not so wildly complex. These were lavish adornments of picturesque scenes: a maiden rejects the advances of a much older suitor; a poor old man selling rice-buns late at night; and another maiden bargaining for a trip across a river by ferry. All three were beautifully played, preceded by Mr. Lu’s charming verbal program notes.

Mr. Lu closed the recital with the solo version of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. Here, I had to take issue with Mr. Lu’s approach and say that he speaks Gershwin with a fussy accent that has little to do with jazz. The “rhapsody” is already written into the music by quick alternation of themes, tempi, mood, etc. You don’t have to show how “musical” you are by bending every single phrase until it sounds like not-so-good Rachmaninoff. I’d recommend that Mr. Lu listens to Gershwin’s own piano roll of the Rhapsody, as well as many vintage recordings of early jazz players to get a better sense of the style.

The Rhapsody in Blue is always enjoyed, but I caution that it has become so iconic that it actually gives listeners an easy satisfaction, the opportunity to “tune out”: you are no longer listening to what is actually being performed. You go into a “zone” in which you hear a pre-fabricated tune that you “already know.” But none of my reservations about the Rhapsody curbed one iota of enthusiasm by Mr. Lu’s ardent fans, and I’m glad for it.

I would need (and doubtless enjoy) to hear Mr. Lu in a much wider set of repertoire (Bach, Beethoven, Schubert, French, contemporary) to be able to assess whether he has versatility, but what an amazing “starting point.”

Mr. Lu preceded his encore with very charming, though heavily accented, verbal program notes. I wasn’t able to catch the title or plot of his arrangement (by advance request from an audience member) of a Chinese folk song, but I ascertained that it was a love song. A fitting way to close an auspicious debut.

Preston Hawes, Artistic Director

Michael J. Glasgow, composer/conductor
Haley Sicking, mezzo-soprano; Erik Earl Larson, baritone
Chorus composed of “friends of the composer from throughout the USA”

Carnegie Hall, Stern Auditorium, New York, NY

June 20, 2022

Mid-America Productions returned to Carnegie Hall’s main stage with another of its dynamic choral extravaganzas on June 20. After somewhat anodyne performances of the Brahms Requiem, and music by Alexis Renee Ward and Ola Gjeilo, came the work I was assigned to review: the world premiere of Gloria by Michael J. Glasgow.

Poulenc, Pärt, Muhly: make way for Glasgow. Isn’t it about time for another stand-alone Gloria to take its place in the liturgical music world? Though the genesis of Glasgow’s work goes back to a “despairing day” in the composer’s life pre-pandemic, the rest was the result of an invitation to perform a completed work, which was then subsequently delayed, due to said pandemic. Mr. Glasgow states that he concentrated the feelings of lament, which after all do not constitute the primary message of the hymn of praise but rather provide contrast, to the middle of his three sections.

The outer two sections, Gloria in excelsis Deo, and Quoniam tu solus sanctus, are cyclic in nature, in a grand tradition stretching back to Franck and Poulenc. Themes used in the first section recur in the final one. These provide important ear and memory markers for the listener, and they are skillfully handled by Mr. Glasgow. I do take issue with the composer’s statement that “many” composers set the text in three movements—the Poulenc, for example, has six.

Gloria, the hymn first sung by the angels at the birth of Jesus, gradually worked its way into the liturgy as the second part of the ordinary of the Catholic mass. Mr. Glasgow has responded to the tone of celebratory announcement by utilizing fanfares and strongly defined rhythmic profiles. The music overall, for me, had a “cinematic” quality, in keeping with the composer’s mission to have the character of the music convey as closely as possible the meaning of the words. Sometimes it tipped over into easier listening clichés, but its convincing quality never faltered.

I thought that the “despairing” middle section could have been more sharply characterized, delving deeper into lament—however, it was beautiful, as was the entire work.

I must praise the two excellent soloists, mezzo-soprano Haley Sicking and baritone Erik Earl Larson, whose beautifully detailed solos soared over the full orchestrations, and who each sounded like they had been performing this work for years, not for the first time.

The concluding Amens, described as an invitation to “an amazing party that you don’t want to leave” were indeed thrilling. Mr. Glasgow, a rather showy, unrestrained (physically) conductor, was dancing to the angels’ song.

Here we have a work that may be very practical to adopt into worship services—to that end, I hope there is an arrangement for organ and chorus soon, if there isn’t one already.

At the risk of blasphemy, Gloria in excelsis Glasgow!

Paul Jacobs, organist

The Church of Saint Mary the Virgin, New York, NY

 June 7, 2022

Any opportunity to hear the internationally renowned organist Paul Jacobs in concert is a golden one, so I was delighted to be assigned to this, the second half of his traversal of César Franck’s complete organ works.

Once upon a time, Franck’s D minor Symphony was a staple of orchestra programs everywhere, but lately it seems to have fallen out of fashion. I would wager that aside from the ubiquitous A major Violin Sonata, the music-going public has not heard a note of Franck’s music. However, to church musicians (organists and choir directors) his works are touchstones. For concert organists, they are a rite of passage on the road to mastery of the instrument, as well as a distinct style of playing: Grand French Romanticism.

The issue with touchstones is to reveal what made them new and radical at the time of their creation, rather than add to their smooth, worn quality. In Mr. Jacobs’ hands and feet, we need not worry—he is known for his uncanny ability to clarify the thousands of sonorities (and thousands of notes!) in the most knotty textures, as his complete Bach and Messiaen series have shown (now there’s a contrast!).

The six pieces heard on this occasion are less well known than the products of Franck’s old age (Trois Chorales), with the possible exception of the Prélude, Fugue et Variation. The program notes, which were written for the series as a whole rather than piece by piece, indicate 1868 for the six pieces, the date of publication. These works germinated over a ten-year period, principally from 1859 to 1862, undergoing numerous revisions. Hardly prodigious, you might say, but remember Franck the child had been groomed for a career as a piano virtuoso by his domineering father, and success came slowly with many setbacks until he settled into his true calling as the organist at Paris’ famed Sainte-Clotilde and as a composer.

What a change in the aesthetic was wrought by the advent of Franck! Organists of the Paris society churches in the mid-nineteenth century were content to pander to their congregations with junky “tempest” pieces, and cheap medleys cobbled together from the fashionable operas of Rossini, et al. By comparison, Franck, even at his most extroverted, seems practically austere.

Mr. Jacobs, who spoke from the front of the sanctuary but played the concert “invisibly,” from the gallery, announced that he would change the order of the six pieces. There is documentary evidence that Franck himself did perform them together as a suite at least once. I will gratuitously read Mr. Jacobs’ mind here, and assume that the sixth piece (Final), which is musically the weakest (weak at a very high level) with its bombastic fanfare theme, despite a lovely middle section, he wished to bury in the middle of the concert. He played the pieces in the order 4,5,6,1,3,2. There was no applause invited until the end, adding to the strangeness, for the modern music lover, of an organ recital, though the large church was very full of devotees.

These six works are wildly well-constructed, with interpenetrating themes, foreshadowing Franck’s obsession with cyclic composition. Many of the motives are fully realized later in his life in the D minor Symphony, Also beautifully legible in Mr. Jacobs’ crystalline performance was the obsession with canons and other polyphonic development.

For me, the best performances were the opening two pieces Pastorale and Prière, where the meditative quality was strongest, combined with the beautiful registrations this historic organ provides. The instrument, originally installed by Aeolian-Skinner in 1933 and revised many times, the latest being in 1988, offers many of the features of the grand French organs that Franck would have been used to. The reverb in the church, however, is fairly brief, so some of the halo of sound doesn’t happen at the end of phrases, thus influencing phrasing, timing, rubato, and registration (My, my! Don’t organists have a lot of things to think about?).

The Fantaisie and the Prélude, Fugue et Variation were a bit on the fast side, though Mr. Jacobs’ fastidious logic prevailed and was always convincing. He was supple, but contained, very “French” indeed. The Prélude, Fugue et Variation was robbed of an extra measure of sadness that I feel is essential to the work, however, I may be projecting!

The Grande Pièce Symphonique closed the concert, with its massive deployment of two things: all of Franck’s compositional ingenuity, and all of the organ’s potential. The introduction of the term symphonique led to an entire wave of French symphonies for organ (Vierne, Widor, Duruflé). The slight agogic pause before the last chord was breathtaking.

For a French organ music lover, I would kindly suggest that Mr. Jacobs take a diction lesson when pronouncing the words Grande and Symphonique in French. Side note: It reminds me of one of my former professors, who shall remain nameless, who took umbrage whenever a student would correct her pronunciation of this composer: “I got my doctorate from Indiana University, and I’ll say Caesar Frank if I damn well please!”

You’re in good company Paul. And Franck is in good hands with Paul Jacobs. We organ aficionados look forward to your next series.

Elizabeth Pitcairn, violin; Barbara Podgurski, piano
Trio Cabrini: Nuno Antunes, clarinet and bass clarinet; Gina Cuffari, bassoon and voice; Vlada Yaneva, piano and accordion

Stefanie Izzo, soprano; Scott Pool, bassoon; Natsuki Fukasawa, piano
Parhelion Trio: Sarah Carrier, flute; Ashleé Miller, clarinet; Andrea Christie, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 31, 2022

This concert, rescheduled from March 2020 due to that virus, is a celebration of Sunny Knable’s second album. The audience in Weill Recital Hall was the largest I have seen since the resumption of nearly-normal concert life last year. Mr. Knable, the music director of Forest Hills’ (NY) The Church in the Gardens, clearly inspires devotion and friendship in his congregation. An affable fellow, he personally greeted nearly everyone before the concert, making his way through the hall; and his verbal commentary was engaging.

I can report that Mr. Knable is a creator of accessible, attractive, well-crafted works—at their best when they explore rapid, rhythmic textures, with exciting interchange among the parts. A few minor quibbles will be mentioned below, but nothing too worrisome. I can also state that the caliber of all the performers was excellent, fiercely enthusiastic at all times, and in total command of their many and varied responsibilities.

The concert opened with The Green Violin, a pun on the “red” violin, a seventeenth century Stradivarius instrument that inspired a 1998 movie. (Was the violin really varnished with the maker’s dead wife’s blood?) The “Red Mendelssohn” that inspired the screenplay was made in the eighteenth century, and while not the actual mysterious violin, is currently owned by Elizabeth Pitcairn, the excellent soloist here, partnered by Barbara Podgurski on piano, in a brief but effective Irish melodic fantasy. Also, I was pleased to note that the piano was on “full stick” for the entire concert, though that led to a few balance problems later in the evening.

Next came a New York premiere titled …the Place of Longing, inspired by Richard Elliott’s 2010 book: Fado and the Place of Longing: Loss, Memory and the City, describing the Portuguese music of absence and longing. The innovative Trio Cabrini includes a singing bassoonist (Gina Cuffari), and an accordion playing pianist (Vlada Yaneva), as well as Nuno Antunes on clarinet/bass clarinet. Ms. Cuffari and  Ms. Yaneva clapped energetically as well, and Ms. Cuffari engaged in some wordless sighing that seemed slightly extraneous to me, the music was strong enough without it. Mr. Knable combines Portuguese song and Bulgarian rhythms skillfully.

To round out the first half, Song of the Redwood-Tree, a 2012 work on poetry by Walt Whitman, featured Stefanie Izzo, soprano; Scott Pool, bassoon; and the excellent pianist Natsuki Fukasawa (Mr. Pool’s regular partner in duo). As this concert was postponed from 2020, they couldn’t possibly have known how fortuitous it was that Whitman was born on May 31 (1819), but it added a layer of resonance. Mr. Knable’s work, in three sections based on portions of the first and second divisions of Whitman’s long cycle, seeks to express musically some of the references in the poem. Ms. Izzo, possessing a full lyric soprano, handled the demands of the voice part (originally written for someone else) with confidence and feeling, though her consonants were not vivid enough to project in the hall. Part of the blame for this must be laid with Mr. Knable, whose use of extremely high registers makes it that much more difficult to understand this poetic masterpiece; we are not in the world of opera, after all (though even there I’d prefer to understand the words), but vocal chamber music. The setting of the tree’s ‘death-chant’ was histrionic. Mr. Knable also repeated (even sometimes changed) text wantonly (a pet peeve of mine though all the great composers did it at one time or another)—Whitman’s text is already so rich musically that it scarcely needs that type of amplification. In addition, the intrepid Mr. Pool and Ms. Fukasawa had to stamp their feet loudly and engage in Mr. Knable’s signature wordless vocalises. The depiction of the horns of ships leaving San Francisco harbor with the plundered riches of California was breathtaking.

After intermission came the world premiere of Tenacity, in which the composer encapsulates his experience of the pandemic in New York. Seven brief sections, whose titles all begin with the letter s, span from the 24/7 sound of sirens in the streets of New York, all the way to the recent (though tenuous) rebound of hope. However, I must chide Mr. Knable for the title “Six O’clock Clapping,” for every New Yorker knows that this happened at 7:00 pm. every night for many months. The excellent Parhelion Trio (flute, clarinet, piano) played it as though it was many years’ versed in it (Sarah Carrier, flute; Ashleé Miller, clarinet; and pianist Andrea Christie).

The concert concluded with The Busking Bassonist, co-commissioned by tonight’s wonderful Scott Pool, partnered again by Natsuki Fukasawa. Depicting some stages in the life of an itinerant musician in New York, it began with the pianist on stage, nervously looking at her watch because her partner was late. Mr. Pool entered humorously through the audience, and the duo began their set in a subway station. The depiction of the approaching train, on whose passengers their livelihood depends, was spot on. In Park-Bench Ballad, Mr. Pool not only had to play his instrument but embody a random park bench sitter, reading a newspaper aloud (which contained, for me, some very unfortunate references to the recent mass shootings in the US, and an editorial from the New York Times), then the pianist also had her share of reading, this time from a book. Her voice was mostly covered by the bassoon line. This segued into the final section Street Changes, a wild, energetic romp of New York energy, playing into Mr. Knable’s strength with fast rhythmic interest. May I also mention that pianist Ms. Fukasawa had to play a melodica mouth-keyboard, which she did with great poise (and breath).

After a warm ovation, Mr. Knable took the stage to perform one of his delicate piano solos (with vocalise), dedicated to his wife: Chanson de la lumière (from Cartes postales de suisse).

Mr. Knable’s “sunny” disposition will always allow him to find friends, especially among talented performers, and those whose lives he touches as a musical leader and teacher. As Whitman said, “Do anything, but let it produce joy.”

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

The Collective: Douglas Knehans, founder

No Exit New Music Ensemble, Timothy Beyer, director

Composers: Timothy Beyer, Cindy Cox, Amelia Kaplan, Douglas Knehans, Constantine Koukias, Pamela Madsen, Spiros Mazis, Mathew Rosenblum, Edward Smaldone, Jack Vees, and Agata Zubel

Performers: Jenny Lin, piano, special guest; Sean Gabriel, flute; Gunnar Owen Hirthe, clarinet/bass clarinet; Nicholas Underhill, piano; Luke Rinderknecht, percussion; Cara Tweed, violin; James Rhodes, viola; Nicholas Diodore, cello; James Praznik, associate director/electronics.

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 12, 2022

The Collective continued its mission to represent the newest voices in contemporary avant-garde music by presenting Cleveland’s preeminent ensemble, No Exit, founded thirteen years ago by Timothy Beyer, one of the evening’s composers. I didn’t hear anything truly “avant,” but these composers sure know how to use their computers, samplers, and other electronics, added to more traditional instruments, many of which are played with extended techniques.

With the name No Exit, a translation of the title of Sartre’s play Huis clos, in which three characters are dead and condemned to spend eternity locked in a room, I wondered what the message of this ensemble would be. Not to worry, no one was locked in Weill Recital Hall, and no one left either.

The abundant program contained five New York premieres, four world premieres, and two United States premieres. Even from a knowledgeable reviewer’s standpoint, such concerts are exhausting: no scores to study, no precedent, etc. The small audience was composed primarily of the composers, their family/friends, and perhaps a few others. Just who is being addressed by such music was my primary concern, though there were many moments that shone. I decided it was best to follow the advice of one of my former professors: Drop your preconceptions of what music “is” and where it should “go,” just let yourself float in the sound landscape. Doing this revealed a program of great variety, no two of these composers resemble each other. All have immensely personal statements to make with a huge range of techniques.

For me, the absolute standout of the evening was The Collective’s founder’s piece, Mist Waves, by Douglas Knehans, a poignant, succinct modern passacaglia for violin and piano. No tricks, just beautiful soulful material, played with heart by Cara Tweed and Nicholas Underhill.

Other excellent works were: Sonic Entanglement by Spiros Mazis, performed by the supernaturally talented Jenny Lin, with numerous spectral electronic enhancements. Unnatural Tendencies, by Amelia Kaplan, for solo piano, a jittery rumination on the pandemic, performed superbly by Nicholas Underhill. Byzantine Images, by Constantine Koukias, the oldest work on the program (1985), for solo flute with digital delay—this allows the traditional single-line flute to become polyphonic with itself, played hauntingly by Sean Gabriel. The concluding work Two Harmonies, by Mathew Roseblum, for viola, percussion, and piano/sampler, which utilized two different complex microtonal systems (division of the octave into more than the twelve half-steps of the traditional ‘scale’), had great atmosphere, and also did not overstay its welcome.

I have never heard a single bass drum played on a concert before, so I was highly intrigued by MONO-DRUM, by Agnes Zubel, which was given theatrical flair by Luke Rinderknecht, who was charged with emptying a brown paper bag of brightly colored children’s play balls onto the surface of the drum. The vibrations caused them one by one to ‘jump down’ off the drum onto the stage floor. A huge variety of sounds was invoked with all manner of techniques: mallet, ‘wrong’ end of the mallet, hands on drum surface, hands on drum body, balls swishing back and forth on drum surface…

Lines of Desire, by Jack Vees, for bass clarinet, viola, and cello, had an intriguing premise: the representation of those paths we all see in parks where people have chosen a shortcut and cut a rather enduring swath through the grass instead of following the walkway. The challenge of writing for three instruments in almost the same register was expertly handled, the ensemble’s pulse was perfect (Gunnar Owen Hirthe, James Rhodes, Nicholas Diodore).

For me, the least successful works were: Amputate III, by Timothy Beyer, for piano and electronics, with its graphic use of the recorded and distorted sounds of saws going through bones. Despite Ms. Lin’s expertise, the electronics rendered the piece nearly deafening. Owl’s Breath, by Pamela Madsen, originally scored for bass clarinet and electronics, was performed without the electronics, Mr. Hirthe’s playing is always superlative, but I wasn’t getting birds out of the work, as its program note indicated.

I didn’t mean to neglect the two opening works: Duke Redux, by Edward Smaldone, for flute, bass clarinet, cello, and vibraphone, an extension of Ellington’s Come Sunday, and a reworking of a flute and piano piece. Blackwork, Scarletwork, by Cindy Cox, for violin, viola, and cello, claimed to be inspired by Renaissance lacework in Spain.

Perhaps I just needed a little time to accustom myself to this language of music. Certainly there does seem to be an aversion to sustained melodic writing. I wonder if that is a trend or a blip. The advent of electronics, while hardly new, does give composers opportunities their forebears never imagined. And that’s what all the excellence on stage Thursday had in common: a surfeit of imagination, the most precious resource.

Performers: Sophia Steger, violin; Andrew Samarasekara, violin; Kayla Cabrera, viola; Jenny Bahk, cello; Dylan Reckner, bass; Sharon Chang, piano; Mateusz Borowiak

Merkin Hall at Kaufman Music Center, New York, NY

Sunday, April 24, 2022 6:30 PM

I told a friend that I was attending a concert of works by Louis Pelosi, an academically trained composer, but one who has made his living for nearly fifty years as a recognized piano technician. The friend asked: “Well, what does he sound like?” To which I replied: “Why, Pelosi of course!” And that about sums it up.

I had the great pleasure five years ago of attending a recital series by Mateusz Borowiak, one of tonight’s excellent soloists, in which he performed the six piano sonatas by Pelosi alongside the major etude groups by Chopin, Debussy, and Rachmaninoff.

In the interim, Louis Pelosi has certainly not been idle. The five works on the program were all receiving their premieres on this occasion. Mr. Pelosi, rather than playing the sometimes frustrating game of seeking prizes, commissions, etc. that contemporary composers go through, has been mostly self-produced.

The program opened with the only non-piano based work: an Elegy for String Orchestra, heard here in a string quintet version. All the hallmarks of Pelosi are present: strong imitative counterpoint, motivic unity, a recognizably personal sound. Is it ‘too soon’ for something dedicated to the ‘victims of COVID-19’? Not for me to say. Why should Barber’s famous Adagio for Strings be the only elegiac morsel trotted out for solemn occasions? Pelosi’s work may be slightly less ‘surface’ attractive in terms of melody- it is indeed more static, but it gets its message across. The composer was kind enough to send me scores to all the works on this concert, greatly appreciated in the case of new or unusual music. The string players were keenly sensitive, though I would like to hear the work in full orchestra, as they weren’t able to rise to the fff climax, thus somewhat shrinking the emotional gambit.

The evening then turned to four large piano groupings, beginning with the Adagio, dedicated to Sharon Chang, who performed it meticulously. Generally Ms. Chang’s pianism was finely attuned to harmonic color, but Mateusz Borowiak’s playing (to be discussed below) just seemed more in tune with Pelosi’s private expressive world, adding little phrasing punctuations, breathing, and refreshed colors, but never exaggerated. As Pelosi states: “What the sensitive ear can follow, so can the mind accept and the soul be moved and enlarged.”

The first half concluded with the Variations in E-flat, a set of 36 transformations of a rather concise theme that doesn’t slavishly proclaim a tonality of E-flat but behaves more like a prismatic commentary on the ‘note’ E-flat. Pelosi’s scores don’t have key signatures per se, but often the ‘topic note’ is indicated at the beginning. All the notes are marked with accidentals or naturals as needed, which makes sight-reading Pelosi a minefield.

Mateusz Borowiak was definitive here. Pelosi’s writing could become overwrought in the wrong hands, I suppose, were it not for his consummate craft, especially his use of canon and fugato textures that never break into full-fledged fugues but do suggest them. In this way, Pelosi helps ‘untutored’ listeners find their way through his rewarding maze, provided that the ear for voicing and polyphony are present in the performer.

After intermission, Sharon Chang returned in the Canti, a set of six pieces whose title indicates their more overtly songlike textures. She performed them beautifully, but in the order 1, 5, 3, 4, 2, and 6, and I imagine she had Pelosi’s permission to do so. However, that did undo a carefully considered tone structure from the composer: B-E (rising fourth)-E-flat (a half-step lower)-A-flat (rising fourth)-G (another half step lower)-and finally C (rising fourth). Nothing in Pelosi’s art is left to chance, so I found it surprising.

Finally Mr. Borowiak returned to end the recital with a commanding rendition of Pelosi’s Twelve Etudes, which take issues of sonority (primarily) as their focus, but in ways that Debussy (even Ligeti) didn’t imagine. With novel titles such as Harmony As Melody, Melody From Harmony, Intrusion—Inclusion, and the like, these challenge the pianist to hear in such sophisticated ways, all the while negotiating some of the most complex keyboard textures.

Pelosi having spent so much time working on pianos, the instrument does seem to reveal its innermost secrets to him. On the other hand, one could say that because one is a brilliant surgeon that one’s lovemaking technique ought to be superior—I’m sure that’s far from universally true.

Lucky for us, we have Louis Pelosi, who has so much to express, succeeds in doing so, and has the best young performer/advocates to share it with us.

Deke Sharon, Guest Conductor, Arranger & Creative Director

Special Guests: The Barbershop Quartet from the Broadway revival of The Music Man: Phillip Boykin, Eddie Korbich, Daniel Torres, Nicholas Ward

Face Vocal Band

Chesney Snow, Beatboxer

Luke Hawkins, Tap dancer/Singer

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Carnegie Hall, Stern Auditorium, New York, NY

April 10, 2022

To invert the finale of Deke Sharon’s peppy, long-awaited return of Total Vocal: He definitely has found what he’s looking for—a life of great meaning and inspiration at the peak of a cappella vocal art in this country, quite possibly worldwide. I would like to know where he keeps his fountain of youth, for he seems a perpetual twenty-four or twenty-five.

Some of the participating choirs have been on hold for just over two years, so there was a palpable sense of joy at finally being able to make music in person again. I have had the opportunity to review this endeavor a couple of times in these pages, so I won’t dwell on the obvious, that this is a feel-good entertainment, sometimes a bit relentless in its positivity. (Note to self: check the anti-depressant dosage.) If you ever wanted to ‘step into’ one of the Pitch Perfect movies, this is the concert for you.

The massed choir, here only 103 strong, hailed from California, Colorado, Hawaii, Illinois, and Maine, and was quite varied as to age. At various times, extremely poised and self-assured soloists stepped out from the group, to have their memorable moment on Carnegie’s main stage.

The afternoon began auspiciously with the awesome precision and expression of the barbershop quartet from the current Broadway revival of The Music Man. In It’s You and Lida Rose, their ability to make tones travel, swell, and diminish, with crystal bright diction was superb. Keeping the pace quick, Mr. Sharon pivoted to the full choir in an arrangement made for his Disney-sponsored group DCappella, from Aladdin: Friend Like Me. Then fourteen soloists stepped out in front for a soulful rendition of Corinne Bailey Rae’s Put Your Records On (Will any kid even know what a record is?). This was followed by the Edwardsville (IL) High School Choir in a poignant rendition of Loch Lomond, which despite Deke Sharon’s program note, is a Scottish song, not Irish! The group’s young ladies wore matching red sashes and the young men charming red bow ties and suspenders.

Mr. Sharon then related how material always gets cut in the making of movies (in this case, the first Pitch Perfect), and he gave the premiere of one of his mash-ups that was never heard before: Just the Way You Are (Bruno Mars) and Lights (Ellie Goulding).

Next a group took the stage that claims the distinction of being the first one eliminated on the first episode of the first season of a competition reality show The Sing-Off–  Face Vocal Band (aka “Face”). That was in December 2009, and since then (prior to the pandemic) they have performed over 1000 concerts worldwide. They are now in their twenty-first year, take that competition show! They are clearly esteemed by Mr. Sharon, who gave them three selections: Harder to Breathe (Maroon 5), Come Together (Beatles), and From Now On (from The Greatest Showman) where they were joined by the choir. It was a fantastic display.

Inserted (not on the program) was a featured performance by the one choir who flew across half the Pacific Ocean and the entire continental US to be here from Hawaii. In their discreet but telling traditional garb, they sang a Hawaiian folksong beautifully.

Now Chesney Snow was introduced, a regular on these Total Vocal programs. It is truly astonishing what a range of sounds one human mouth assisted by an amplified mike can achieve. He is a master beat-boxer, and he got to riff before launching into Rogers and Hammerstein’s Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’ (Oklahoma), underlining the choir and Mr. Sharon’s vocal solo with his rhythm. By the way, need I make clear that there was not one instrument (other than human voices) used in this afternoon. Next, eight soloists came forward for Elton John’s Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me, which was backed by the choir and Chesney Snow. Luke Hawkins, a Broadway tap dancer, singer, and television actor, got his turn to shine (also as Deke Sharon’s newly-discovered relative) in Randy Newman’s I Love L.A., replete with audience participation. Then Face Vocal Band regained the stage for the finale: Bono and The Edge’s I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. What a triumph!

A traditional built-in encore is the audience-participation The Lion Sleeps Tonight, with all forces arrayed onstage, just before all the individual conductors who have given so much of themselves in preparation received their lusty bravos.

Mr. Sharon so strongly believes in the redemptive power of choral singing that he offers anyone who reaches out to him help in finding a group in their community- now that’s leadership!

Louisiana State University College of Music & Dramatic Arts

Ensemble Members: Jenna Grissom, soprano; Chris Ludwig, flute/piccolo; Javier Elizondo, clarinet; MK Guthrie, violin; Hayoung Cho, violin; Catherine Chen, viola; Meghan Rhoades, piano; Luis Bernardo Castro, cello; Eduard Teregulov, cello; Rosalinda Ramirez, percussion; Jake Ellzey, percussion

Composers: Faculty: Stephen David Beck, Mara Gibson; Alumni: Niloufar Iravani, Thomas Kim, Mikeila McQueston, Thomas Wilson; Current Students: Rodrigo Camargo, Jeremi Edwards, Jake Ellzey, Austin Franklin, Aarón Gonzalez, Treya Nash, Cassidy O’Connell, Hannah Rice, Dan Schultz

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 8, 2022 

This concert was originally scheduled for October 2020, but was derailed due to you-know-what. Since that time, the ensemble’s namesake and creator, Dinos Constantinides, died on July 20, 2021. (I have had the pleasure of reviewing several concerts of his own works in these pages: 2015, 2018, 2019.) Now, his legacy of more than fifty years of service through pedagogy and philosophical leadership lives on in the Constantinides New Music Ensemble, under the direction of Mara Gibson.

Fifteen composers, ranging in age from 22 to 75, displayed fifteen distinct compositional voices, with delightful variations on a palette using mainly flute, clarinet, piano trio, string quartet, and percussion figurations. All the student performers are at the top of their respective games vis-à-vis their instruments and their abilities not only to decipher but to breathe life into these challenging new works.

There must have been some time criterion for works on this generous program, for the pieces ranged from three to eight minutes. Two themes occurred more than once: 1) Pierrot (influence of the seminal Schoenberg work, and responses to it), and 2) Greek mythology (the Constantinides influence: Maze with its Phrygian mode, Minotaur, and Persephone).

I can only fleetingly mention some of the highlights. The duo work of the two wind players: Chris Ludwig on flute (doubling piccolo) and Javier Elizondo (clarinet) were delightful in their closely tuned ensemble playing, especially in three of Stephen David Beck’s Pierrot Etudes. Pianist Meghan Rhoades, playing from an iPad, was stunning in her ability to conjure myriad colors regardless of the demands of the score (even playing ‘inside’ the piano). She was in eight of the fifteen works, a mammoth job, well done. Violinist Hayoung Cho had an even larger share of the evening, in ten of the fifteen works.

Nearly all the composers were present to acknowledge their richly deserved applause. It is one thing to get a piece performed the first time—it is quite another to have your work enter ‘the repertoire’ in any meaningful way. Only time will tell, but they are all off to a great start. Two things they all had in common were: the ability to create striking effects of togetherness (due in no small measure to the performers), and the ‘sense of an ending.’

Hannah Rice’s Prog for Pierrot taught me a new word: prog, as well as introducing me to sounds of ‘metal’ music fused with the traditional Pierrot ensemble. Three of Stephen David Beck’s five Pierrot Etudes were precisely and delightfully realized by the aforementioned flute/piccolo and clarinet duo. Rodrigo Camargo’s Sextet was a very successful fusion of rock, western classical, and Brazilian musical gestures. Jake Ellzey, heard elsewhere on the program as percussionist, composed Departure as a response to a surrealist painting. Its string quartet instrumentation utilized progressive techniques such as striking the wood of the instruments themselves (gently of course). This piece created a haunting tableau. Mikeila McQueston’s The Minotaur, inspired by poetry, posits a post-labyrinth life for the mythical beast. The work rose to shattering climaxes of near chaos before subsiding in most effective fashion, featuring a difficult soprano part, which Jenna Grissom projected as well as she could over the tumult. One issue with percussion being brought into the chamber music realm is that it can quickly overwhelm the instrumental balance.

The following list is for the sake of completeness and in no way does any omission of detailed discussion imply a lack of value: Cassidy O’Connell’s The Abduction of Persephone; Treya Nash’s Nothing Motorized; Mara Gibson’s Blackbird I; Thomas Wilson’s Fighting the Mischievous Imp (based on video game music, with performance length determined by the ensemble); Jeremi Edward’s Beneath the Veil (art vs. machine); Austin Franklin’s  Lanterns II; Dan Schultz’s Pyramids; Niloufar Iravani’s The Maze; Thomas Kim’s Destin; and Aarón Gonzalez’s Pierrot Microbusero (loosely translated “Pierrot on the Microbus”).

Congratulations to everyone for making this the best possible, if inadvertent, memorial service for Maestro Constantinides.

Ann Arbor Public Schools, Ann Arbor Band Associations

in association with Bob Rogers Travel presents Ann Arbor High School Bands Showcase

The Ann Arbor Community High School Jazz Bands; Jack Wagner, conductor

The Ann Arbor Skyline High School Bands; Jason Smith, conductor; Ty Santos, Associate Director of Bands

The Ann Arbor Huron High School Bands; Robert Ash, conductor; Evaristo Rodriguez, Associate Director of Bands

The Ann Arbor Pioneer High School Bands; David A. Leach, conductor; Erin Lilliefors, Associate Director of Bands

Carnegie Hall, Stern Auditorium, New York, NY

March 30, 2022

At first glance around the vast main auditorium of Carnegie Hall, I thought at least half of Ann Arbor had turned out to cheer on their intrepid students. The real figure was more like one percent, nevertheless… Ann Arbor, Michigan is lucky on many levels: they have a branch of the University of Michigan with its renowned music department; but more important: they have a community that actually funds, nourishes, and supports its public school arts programs.

I am happiest to report, from among a perhaps over-long program, that the jazz students, and those in symphonic bands who play jazz-inflected material, are super talented. After all, New York’s Juilliard School has had a jazz major for some time now, helmed by the legendary Wynton Marsalis.

The program began with one of these ensembles, the cleverly named Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse (plus 1), from Community High. Now normally, I would run screaming for the exit if the real “four horsemen” were to announce their arrival, and for the past two years everything has felt somewhat apocalyptic. There was no cause for alarm here- only joy, energy, and pleasure. Their playing, in music by Fisher, Ellington, and Hargrove, had that indefinable element of combined training and spontaneity.

The concert/symphonic bands had more mixed results.  Naturally these groups are larger, with players from many more varied skill sets, and they are, of course, not professional musicians. However, I have a duty to report on what I heard and perceived. From the several tunings the bands made prior to playing, I could tell that, in fact, they weren’t in tune, and that led me to speculate about how finely their ears are being trained, as to pitch. I am happy to report, however, that every group had an acute ability to render the most complicated rhythmic materials, handing off detailed passages from one group of instruments to another, having no trouble at all with irregular meters or syncopation.

The Huron Concert Green band played the Chaconne from Gustav Holst’s First Suite and a transcribed movement from Erika Svanoe’s Steampunk Suite. They were convincing in the depiction of crazed energy that was feared as technology began its relentless march in the nineteenth century: Barnum and Tesla’s Tandem Bicycle.

The Pioneer Concert Purple band then played Samuel Hazo’s Arabesque, which began with an amazing flute solo that was gorgeously played. The composition, I suppose, could be labeled as politically incorrect these days, with its cliché depictions of “exoticism- perhaps it’s a guilty pleasure. They followed with Robert Sheldon’s Metroplex: Three Postcards from Manhattan, another cliché, and I hope they now know, after visiting, how much more intricate Manhattan is than this music.

Another Community High jazz group, the Ballistic Whistle (great name!) shined, especially in Coltrane’s Impressions and Herbie Hancock’s Swamp Rat. Kevin Payne on piano really anchored the group (he would later serve as drummer and vibraphone- what a talent!). The spirit of Coltrane really hovered over their performance, and I wish for these young players that their lives will be longer than his short one, and filled with the same sense of exploration and innovation.

The Skyline Symphony/Concert bands best moment was their performance of Percy Grainger’s Children’s March, an elaborate treatment of some fragments of nursery tunes, the most prominent of which we would recognize as “I’m a little teapot.”

After intermission, the third Community High jazz group, Fantasy in 3, dazzled in Poinciana by Nat Simon and Buddy Bernier, and Cedar Walton’s Ugetsu. Kevin Payne again displayed fearless virtuoso control of the vibraphone.

The Huron Symphony band played a (way too) long Symphony No. 4 by David Maslanka, for this listener it was far from the pretentious “speak to the fundamental human issues of transformation and re-birth in this chaotic time,” though the performance did seem a bit chaotic. Perhaps better repertoire choice would show off this dedicated band, which gave it their all.

Concluding, maestro David A. Leach, who has devoted a lifetime to band conducting, almost apologized for the length of the evening, before launching into Michael Daugherty’s Niagara Falls (no Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotton), and Omar Thomas’ Come Sunday, a new work replete with gospel inflection. Mr. Leach’s joy and freedom on the podium must be so inspiring for his students.

At every point in this long evening, one thing was clear, the enthusiasm of the parents and friends who made the journey from “A-squared” to support their own, and that’s the way it should be. Despite my critical remarks above, one must count this as a success on so many other levels, the most critical being the involvement of young people in the arts. Way to go, “Treetown.”