Curated and performed by Elizaveta Ulakhovich, soprano; Perry Sook, baritone

Pianists: Sergey Iorov (episodes 1, 5, 6), Dmitry Myachin (episodes 2, 3, 4)

Directed by Nicholas Grisham

Edited by John Jackson

Voiceover by Victoria Rae Sook

An innovative and intriguing synthesis of two art forms, born in part from a sense of the anxiety and idleness caused by the pandemic, can be found in a forthcoming series of YouTube videos by two up-and-coming opera singers: Elizaveta Ulakhovich and Perry Sook. I sat down recently with the engaging (and married) couple to hear about their process.

Elizaveta has impressive credentials from the Saint Petersburg conservatory and has already sung at the Bolshoi Theater in standard and contemporary opera and numerous recitals, and Perry is a Texas-born, Oklahoma educated star of many musical theater productions, notably Shrek, who is transitioning to opera. He is also an entrepreneur of fashionable sportswear.

The web series is the accidental result of a planned recital that was to take place in an art gallery—before the pandemic and its restrictions. The couple invented a frame story while sitting on their couch talking, a setting that is shown in the first episode. The pretext is that they have enrolled in an online art course to enrich their suddenly experienced surplus of free time. While examining the works of art, they experience feelings which are then correlated to certain arias—one painter and one composer per episode.

Episode 1, “What You Choose,” featured biographical details about Frida Kahlo, signature images by her, and parallels to emotions found in two arias by Handel, from Cleopatra and Berenice. Liza, as she is familiarly known, hastened to tell me that the music always comes first when they are developing a program. Only after deliberating on the emotions expressed in the music are they led to seek a connection in the visual.

Their mission statement includes the phrase “familiarity and fun,” and the cozy domesticity captured in the episode certainly demystifies what may be for many the stuffiness of grand opera.

One fascinating aspect of the Kahlo/Handel episode is the original recitatives, composed or assembled by Ms. Ulakhovich herself. They are uncannily Baroque yet with the couple singing in conversational English to each other, the recitatives seem of this moment too.

In the future, they wish to delve even deeper into the painters’ lives, with biographical detail, anecdote, and image.

The series is constantly evolving, as their thoughts and feelings do. And here’s something for the online age: they actually invite disagreement, which may be expressed in the comment section of the YouTube videos. If a viewer feels the mirroring isn’t quite the “right one,” he/she is urged to suggest another. Seeing more art, education, and good fact checking are all part of the singers’ esthetic.

Their goal for a post-pandemic musical world would be to give immersive recitals, in non-traditional venues, perhaps with projections or actual paintings and sculpture. United Arts Studies is a nonprofit organization with a mission to educate and inspire.

There are six episodes planned (four completed), released on the fourth Thursday of each month: June 24, July 22 (Klimt), August 26 (Botticelli), September 23 (Dali), and so forth. A secret word has it that the audience will be seeing Mr. Sook as Don Carlo, filmed on the Nevsky Prospect in Saint Petersburg. Don’t miss it!

(Website: United Arts Studies on YouTube or their own website, www.unitedartsstudies.com)

“Midnight in Paris”: Bloomingdale School of Music “Performathon” Scholarship benefit

Daniel Lamas, viola

Weiwei Zhai, piano

May 15, 2021

Mon Dieu, que j’adore… oops. I mean, my goodness, how I love French music. I have, as we all have, been so starved for the lively arts, especially classical music, during the pandemic, that when a video of this recent recital at Bloomingdale School of Music was sent to me, it was manna from heaven.

Two artists previously unknown to me, violist Daniel Lamas and pianist Weiwei Zhai, presented a thoughtful short recital of music, some lesser known and one fragment of a warhorse.

Chilean born Mr. Lamas, who has a wide range of experience in orchestras and chamber music, is currently a faculty member (viola, violin, chamber music) of this valuable institution on the upper west side of Manhattan, as well as owner of his own string studio. His training includes both the Manhattan School of Music and the Paris Conservatoire. His philosophy of teaching is “to instruct with care and nurturing,” exactly as he and his partner handled this program.

Ms. Zhai, born and raised in Chengdu, China, is on the piano faculty of the Bloomingdale School. She is currently finishing her doctorate degree at the Manhattan School of Music with legendary pedagogue Solomon Mikowsky. She has won numerous awards in competitions and performed in her native land and Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall..

Their performance was absolutely gorgeous throughout (even with the limited fidelity of online video) as to sonority and especially style. Clarity, simplicity, and accuracy. Really, what more can one ask of French music interpretation?

Darius Milhaud was said to be able to set the phone book to music, so prolific and varied was his ability. A member of the Les Six artist group, he had a strong neoclassical aesthetic, often overshadowed by his penchant for polytonality and Latin rhythms, the result of his trip to Brazil as ambassador Paul Claudel’s secretary in 1917. The excerpt (II. Français) from his First Sonata for Viola and Piano, Op. 240, revels in this classicism; a contemporary layering atop themes from the eighteenth century. It was played with great style and verve by the duo.

The Trois pièces (composed 1914, published 1915, originally for cello and piano) by Nadia Boulanger display her mastery of compositional craft, the kind that was expected of everyone at the Paris Conservatoire, even if they didn’t go into it professionally. Of course, the world knows her better as an inspiring teacher, with her younger sister Lili, the first female winner of the Prix de Rome, remembered as the composer. These three mood-pictures are delicate, generally in the early twentieth century post-Impressionist manner, and they were given perfect performances.

The Finale of the Franck Sonata was played with enthusiasm and grace—and moreover, it never sounded “difficult” -no mean feat. Another astounding example of French craft, the strict canon between violin and piano never sounds “academic.” I certainly want to hear these two musicians live, and hear the three preceding movements leading up to this one.

So, this was a very satisfying “appetizer” and now I want a banquet from this duo, s’il vous plait!

The McCormick Percussion Group

Robert McCormick, director

Julia Keller, double bass; Eunmi Ko, piano; Sini Virtanen, violin

Ravello Records

Catalog #: RR8037

A very stimulating recent arrival across my pandemic-starved desk was Strings & Hammers, a CD of contemporary music with strong social consciousness themes underlying each work. Of course, the critic’s job is to state if the music works “as music” without reference to the declared program. I am happy to report that this recording does so amply.

The very resourceful pianist Eunmi Ko had the initial idea for this suite of works. She is a member of the unusual piano trio “Strings & Hammers” (piano, violin, double bass), though I have heard her shine in more traditional repertoire (Eunmi Ko in Review ). She is a well-known champion of contemporary and under-programmed music, to which her virtuosity adds the excitement that may just get people interested in it.

Ms. Ko bravely dares to do what generations of piano teachers have insistently tried to eradicate from their students: recognize the essential percussive nature of the instrument. Of course, hammers do rise and strike strings, and sound immediately begins to decay—this is just physical fact. Any “singing tone” we impart to the piano is caused by mastering aural illusions through creative use of the pedal and gentle transmission of energy from the fingers, combined with the listener’s willingness to sustain tone in the mind. Ms. Ko’s repertoire of colors prevents her from sounding harsh however, and with the wide variety of repertoire on this disc, the ear never tires.

The opening work is Anthony R. Green’s Piano Concerto: Solution, commissioned by Ms. Ko and Mr. McCormick. The two movement titles, Tension and Solution, are a clever play on the harmony terms tension and resolution. Tension opens with three and a half minutes of kinetic energy and a piano solo that, due to Mr. Green’s compositional skill and Ms. Ko’s playing, makes the soloist sound like she has at least three hands, so instantaneous are her shifts from both extremes of the keyboard to whirring material in the middle register. Had Debussy lived another hundred years, I imagine Mouvement from Images, premier livre could have sounded like this. At this three-and-a half minute mark, clapping, footwork, brushing, and eventually vocalizations begin to cooperate and contrast with the piano part in rhythmically complicated patterns that gradually subside to the end of the movement. The second movement, Solution, begins shrouded in darkness and mystery in the piano, though it does “wake up” about three minutes in. Perhaps solutions are not easily gained. The sonorities are hauntingly beautiful.

Eduardo Costa Roldán’s Pulsar thrives marvelously on the extremes of sonority that are obtainable when piano, violin, double-bass, and percussion combine. The shifting rhythmic patterns, cleverly united through a constant pulse, provide maximum interest. The work builds to a climax and then seems to vanish into cold, interstellar space.

Memento Mori (a reminder of one’s mortality) by Emily Koh begins with ominous rumblings in the percussion, followed by the lowest notes of the double-bass, which is cleverly combined with the violin to create one “super” instrument. This seems to open up a cavernous tomb-space into which have fallen: humanity, civility, morals, courage, empathy, compassion, logic, common sense, and backbone (according to the composer). The work ends with the highest whistle-tone harmonics the violin can provide. Is it a message of angelic hope? Whether this work succeeds as a “charge for those who still stand righteous and strong to fight back and never back down” is for each listener to determine. Ms. Koh calls this work a surreptitious “concerto for superbass and percussion.”

Ice Concerto (for violin solo and percussion ensemble) by Jarkko Hartikainen was commissioned by this recording’s virtuoso soloist: Sini Virtanen. It represents its titular element in all its shifting forms—as temperatures rise (climate change) the ice becomes water, even gas. Overall, the work does create a frozen, glassy effect. Things “heat up” approaching the end, but they subside into eerie high pizzicati in the violin.

Before I speak of the concluding work, a word about the McCormick Percussion Group—these players are at the top of their game. Their virtuosity on the stunningly wide array of instruments, coupled with sensitivity to the huge variety of sonorities called for, makes for unparalleled performances.

Alessandro Annunziata’s often jazzy Apollon is an ingenious evocation of the Greek god of music, prophecy, and healing. The three sections, played without pause, are titled Delphoi (the oracle), Logos (the word), and Ekstasis (the state of being beside, or outside, oneself). It is scored for piano and six percussionists. I’m almost certain that the traditional piano teachers mentioned above would be very happy with Ms. Ko’s beautiful tone throughout. After one has been to the oracle and received the word, one is indeed transported ‘outside’ oneself.

This disc may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you try it, I guarantee that your listening will be expanded to include a wider scope of sound, beautifully played. The physical disc is nicely produced, and the recorded sound is beautiful.

Aliya Turetayeva, piano

KNS Classical

Kazakhstan-born Aliya Turetayeva’s new album is devoted to two major solo piano works by Schumann: the Piano Sonata No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22, and the large set of “fantasies in the style of Callot” (Schumann’s original subtitle) called Kreisleriana, inspired by E.T.A. Hoffmann. The two works enjoy certain similarities, including G minor/B-flat major polarity, constant rhythmic displacement, and white-hot restlessness. Strictly speaking, of course, the sonata is not a fantasy, but I’d like to think the pianist is hearkening to the German word Phantasie (imagination), with which Schumann was abundantly blessed.

In the first movement of the sonata, Ms. Turetayeva plays with uncommon musicality and detailed phrasing, however, the movement is marked so rasch wie möglich (as fast as possible, a typical hyperbolic indication by Schumann), and Ms. Turetayeva never sounds quite breathless enough, or “on the absolute limit” of what is achievable. She often breathes deeply between phrases, normally an admirable quality, but one which interrupts the collective rush. I’d like to hear the same thoughtfulness kicked up two notches.

The second movement, Andantino, is a reworking of one of Schumann’s early songs: Im Herbste (In Autumn, poem by Kerner), and here Ms. Turetayeva’s pianism is gorgeously still and full of quiet longing: “Be silent, you little birds,/So that I, I alone,/May sing and blossom for her.” Both the Scherzo and the concluding Rondo: Presto share the same lack of extremity that I noted in the first movement. Clearly, Ms. Turetayeva is a wonderful lyrical player, and it is a pleasure to hear a young pianist who considers every note and phrase deeply, but when in Schumann’s world, one has to partake of the disturbed quality or it all winds up sounding a bit cautious—a little more Florestan to balance the Eusebius.

Ms. Turetayeva fares much better in the eight pieces of Kreisleriana, a diary of pathological sensitivity, where she begins with exactly that passionate surge I wished for earlier. Her imagination is quite original, and she takes the middle section of the first piece a lot slower than the two outer sections, which is a valid choice, however, I’d suggest she explore keeping the same tempo to see if anything occurs to her.

In the second piece, Ms. Turetayeva hesitates before every downbeat in the theme that recurs so often. If it were done once, it could be very effective. She plays the longer second edition (overseen by Clara Schumann and Brahms), which some scholars say should be retired, for it makes nearly everything symmetrical, adding repeats where Schumann didn’t want them and occasionally removing them where he did. Clara, ever the performer, pleaded with the composer to write something “a bit more comprehensible” for her audiences, saying that these pieces “frightened” her. Although Schumann claimed to have composed the set in four days, it underwent a very long period of revision (at least five years).

The fourth piece is another highlight, leading directly into a wonderfully light and spirited rendition of the fifth. I suspected that Ms. Turetayeva’s rendition of the sixth piece would be wonderful, and it did not disappoint, with its fragmented reference to the Grossvatertanz (concluding piece played at every ball, also found in Papillons and Carnaval). There was plenty of fire in the seventh piece, though she did render some portato indications as outright staccati. The final piece was beautifully played, but I prefer a bit more of the “death on a pale horse” quality- Erlking galloping away with his victim. Ms. Turetayeva has a habit of repeating the exact rubato on every recurrence of a phrase, and the downbeat hesitation again interferes with ideal accumulation of panicked momentum.

For those who like their Schumann ultra-contemplative, this is the recording for you. The program notes are very heartfelt, though they could have used closer inspection by someone fluent in English, and the recorded sound is a bit “close” for my taste, but it enables one to hear Ms. Turetayeva’s detailed account of this complex music. Congratulations to Ms. Turetayeva, I’m sure she will go far in her career.

Ian Hobson, conductor

Jakub Haufa, violin; Zuzanna Elster, harp; Damian Skowroński, organ

Sinfonia Varsovia

Toccata

Catalogue Number: TOCC0557

Ian Hobson can do anything. Here is an interesting parallel: music by a pianist renowned in his time, who wanted to be taken seriously as a composer of larger forms; conducted by a renowned pianist of our time, who is also a gifted orchestra leader.

We must thank Mr. Hobson for rescuing Moritz Moszkowski (1854-1925) from his reputation as a composer of glittery “salon-ish” music (think: Spanish Dances for piano duet, the 15 Etudes de virtuosité for piano, or Horowitz’s classic encore Etincelles), and for blowing some of the musical cobwebs off his diverse output. Some of Moszkowski’s story reads very sadly, as tastes and musical fashion seemed to move on without him. He turned to the United States for salvation, but had to be financially bailed out by sympathetic artists, only to die before receiving the benefits of the concert.

The two suites (Deuxième Suite d’Orchestre, Op. 47, Troisième Suite d’Orchestre, Op. 79) on this disc are not shy, little pieces. The Second Suite, composed in 1890 and given its premiere recording here, is forty-one minutes long. The Suite allowed the composer more structural freedom than a typical symphony, and Moszkowski pours it on, with six movements, including a Prelude, Fugue, Scherzo, Larghetto, Intermezzo, and March; a veritable mini-survey of orchestral variety.

The Sinfonia Varsovia plays beautifully under Mr. Hobson’s direction. The Prelude immediately draws one in with its brooding, yearning, rhapsodic string writing, only to stop on a half-cadence that ushers in a “celestial vision” quasi-cadenza for solo harp and violin. The brief sounds of the organ at the conclusion follow, the only truly Baroque reference, leading to the attacca Fugue, which is livelier in tempo, but with similar emotional darkness- its subject reminiscent of the head motif of Bach’s G minor fugue from the Well-Tempered Clavier, Vol. 1. The entries are easy to follow, thanks to Moszkowski’s transparent handling of a large orchestra. Every contrapuntal device is present- augmentation, stretto, a pizzicato section, and another Baroque reference with the reappearance of the organ. For me, the only miscue (sorry, Moritz!) is the triumphant but inconclusive Picardy third ending.

A lively Scherzo in G minor, with its distinctive motto, is easy for the listener to follow. A Larghetto fourth movement (B -flat Major), the emotional heart and longest movement of the Suite, is intense and passionate, and although some have compared it to Wagner, it is much more concise. An Intermezzo (D major) fills the function of the old minuet and trio from the classical symphony. The concluding March (G major) provides a suitably rousing ending; I found it, thankfully, more elegant than martial, a sort of spiritual descendant of Schumann.

The Third Suite is marginally better known, and at only just over half the length of the Second Suite, is a petite cousin, so to speak. Perhaps that stems from its provenance, just over seventeen years later, after Moszkowski settled in Paris. Even the instrumentation seems a bit more transparent. An opening Allegro has a distinctive horn motto, but doesn’t belabor it, preferring melodic sweep. The second movement, Molto moderato, has a wonderful subtitle: La note obstinée (The stubborn note), which in this case is a middle C, that begins and ends the piece in the horn and transfers to the harp part, around which the music moves in sometimes surprisingly remote keys. The third movement is a glorious salon-waltz, the sort for which we remember Moszkowski, perhaps unfairly. Fanfares announce the finale, which provides a satisfying conclusion.

I can imagine, in a post-pandemic world, orchestral subscription audiences pleasantly settling in to hear either or both of these suites. Moszkowski has indeed found a persuasive advocate in Mr. Hobson.

Eugene Albulescu, piano & conductor

Orchestra of Friends

AMP Recordings

Catalogue Number: AMPA22.2

One of the things that hasn’t been stripped from the arts community during this pandemic is the joy and pleasure of recorded art. Pianist Eugene Albulescu has taken on a mission to restore the dual-role of soloist and conductor, which was quite commonplace at one time, to two concerti of Beethoven, the “first,” Opus 15 (actually the second to be composed) and the fifth, Opus 73, known as “Emperor.” And what joy and pleasure this CD brought me. First off, the name of the orchestra: Orchestra of Friends, which made me think, isn’t that the way it should always be? Made up of the most talented players from the triangle roughly formed by New York, Philadelphia, and the Lehigh Valley, these players are at the top of their game, and they respond acutely to every bit of guidance in Mr. Albulescu’s vision.

Naturally, neither one of these works suffers from a shortage of recorded performances over the years. However, the beauty of an interpretive art is that every single person with skill, commitment, heart, and knowledge may add their own particular touch to a work, no matter how well we think we know it. This is immediately obvious in Mr. Albulescu’s approach.

The opening tutti of the First Concerto is wonderfully phrased and detailed, incorporating many details of the historically informed performance movement, without ever seeming dry or pedantic; it wasn’t hurried through as just a “stop” on the way to the soloist’s entrance. Mr. Albulescu uses a modern Steinway concert grand, perched at a 45-degree angle toward the players to accentuate his desired chamber-music level of communication, along with modern instruments. It just goes to show, if style doesn’t reside within the musician, no amount of scholarly tedium will avail.

And what an entrance it was, embodying Mr. Albulescu’s general approach to his part as soloist, which was, to my ears, to restore some of the radical quality to the music. He plays with an almost impish rubato that is never exaggerated, most pronounced in places where the harmonic exploration is at its most adventurous. It shows that he has deeply considered where the important musical events are, and how one can stand out as soloist, while filling the dual role as conductor.

Generous pedaling, without going overboard, a real measuring of the relative harmonic weight of each chord relative to the ones around it, discreet ornamentation, fabulous trills, all these made this an exciting listen. Mr. Albulescu uses the third of three cadenzas Beethoven left for this concerto, the most “outrageous,” but also the most searching, and he really makes it sound like spontaneous improvisation, rather than something that has been rehearsed hundreds of times.

The second movement, Largo, is played with deep and beautiful singing tone, reflecting the “humanity melody” that Beethoven often turned to when in the tonality of A-flat major. The concluding Rondo, taken at a marvelously impetuous clip, shows us that Beethoven was also a man of great wit and humor, not always the dour figure that posterity has left to us.

Now turning to Opus 73, Mr. Albulescu delivers a wonderfully detailed performance on both counts: solo and orchestra. Orchestral scope enlarged in the years between Opus 15 and this one, and Beethoven’s own treatment of the concerto as a drama pitting the soloist against the orchestra changed too. Here, nothing is left to chance, after the perfunctory opening chord, the written-out cadenza begins the piece before the standard orchestral exposition. This recurs, and even near the end, Beethoven specifies, after the conventional 6/4 arrival chord: “Don’t play a cadenza here, but attack the following immediately.”

Many folks find this first movement rather relentlessly martial in character, Beethoven’s “heroic” mode, but Mr. Albulescu finds the dance within it, keeping textures marvelously transparent. Mr. Albulescu’s depth of musical thought and feeling finds full expression in his use of just the right amount of flexibility at the points of harmonic turning and arrival.

A rapt account of the slow movement, followed by the unbridled joy of the attacca rondo finale was perfectly gauged. Mr. Albulescu’s fleet immaculate articulation allowed me to perceive similarities between this finale and that of the sonata Opus 81, “Les Adieux,” not far away in Beethoven’s output, with its evocation of the dog nipping at the wheels of the carriage bringing his master home after the long absence.

The recorded sound on this disc is beautiful, the liner notes are informative, and there is even a new portrait adorning the cover, taken from a life mask of Beethoven, made by the pianist’s wife, Linda Ganus Albulescu, who is also a flutist on the recording.

Bravi to all!

Sabrina Xiao He, piano

Ivory Classics CD-20190

The pairing of Chinese piano music and that of Claude Debussy is a natural one, given the French fondness for Asian influences in art and music, particularly during the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and the fondness for, and keen appreciation of, nature in most Asian cultures. Keywords are: autumn, moon, lake, water, spring, clouds, bamboo, river, and sunset.

Chinese-born Sabrina Xiao He released a CD of just this combination on the Ivory Classics label (Ivory Classics CD-20190), and the result is 70 minutes of beautiful, fluid, passionately engaged, often meditative playing. The piano sound is also beautifully engineered. Dr. Xiao He, a prodigy in her native China, moved to the United States to continue her musical education, completing her Doctor of Musical Arts degree, in piano performance at the University of Southern California Thornton School of Music 2018.

The first eight selections  (Peixun Chen : Autumn Moon over the Calm Lake (1975), Mingxin Du: Dance of the Waterweeds (1959), Yiqiang Sun: Spring Dance (1980), Jianzhong Wang: Colorful Clouds Chasing the Moon (1975, Ruixing Li: Little Bamboo Raft (1973), Jianzhong Wang: Liuyang River (1972), Yinghai Li: Music at Sunset (1972), Xinghai Xian/Chengzong Ying: Ode to the Yellow River (1969)) are by twentieth-century Chinese composers, all of whom are new to me. This music is becoming much better known outside of China, thankfully, through strong advocacy such as Dr. Xiao He’s.

I’m not sure I possess the innate cultural cues necessary for the involuntary response I imagine a Chinese person might have upon hearing a folksong transformed on the piano, but I can evaluate the playing itself. Dr. Xiao He has a beautiful tone and wonderful elasticity in the phrasing, her technique is fluidity itself. Her pedaling is also superb, creating the mixtures and washes so crucial to this music’s effect. I imagine she’d be successful in most any repertoire that called for sophisticated organization of textures and sound layers. If there’s a sameness to some of the Chinese selections, it’s only because they sound somewhat influenced by previous western styles, especially French.

The second half of this fine disc consists of some early and some mature Debussy. Just one critic’s pickiness: I feel she could have utilized the second book of Images instead of the ‘early’ Debussy—its third movement Poissons d’or was even inspired by the giant koi (Japanese carp) lacquered on a prized bowl that Debussy kept on his composition desk. And the first two pieces of that set also seem much more evocative of Asia than do the Arabesques or even the Ballade slave, despite the exotic titles of the latter. Even Pagodes from Estampes would have been appropriate, if obvious.

That being said, the same qualities that animated Dr. Xiao He’s Chinese repertoire are found here as well. She gives tasteful, unexaggerated accounts of the ubiquitous First and Second Arabesques and Clair de lune. The first series of Images displays Dr. Xiao He’s command of atmosphere, and a very subtle, controlled velocity in the final Mouvement, a depiction of a mechanized society, whirling away to nothingness. The Ballade slave fares very well, Xiao He even makes it sound ‘better’ than it actually is, with her trademark liquid tone. Her Feux d’artifice sounds less violent than one usually hears it, perhaps there is even a playfulness to her approach, although I always sense menace under its surface, and I longed for a bit more of that.

All in all, this is a very beautiful disc, produced with a lot of affection and thought. It is quite an achievement, and we look forward to more.

Zachary DePue, violin; Joana Genova, violin; Michael Isaac Strauss, viola; Austin Huntington, cello

Drew Petersen, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 5, 2020

The Indianapolis Quartet made an exciting, auspicious New York debut on Thursday night. It is young, as quartets go, formed only in 2016, but it has quickly rocketed to the forefront of well-deserved attention. The quartet plays standard repertoire, judiciously combined with contemporary American works, which are often written expressly for it. The ensemble’s strength is in its energetic, often kinetic, enthusiasm, and each player’s individual virtuosity and flexibility—ideal conditions for a unified group. The interpersonal communication was a joy to behold, with plenty of ease which allowed for smiling and eye contact. On this occasion the quartet played two iconic nineteenth century works (one with piano), and two contemporary works (one a world premiere).

The evening began with Frank Felice’s humorous Five Whimsies for Non-Grown-Ups, brief programmatic movements based on children’s books the composer re-acquired in adulthood (Sendak, Tolkien, Seuss, etc.). The quartet’s playing was so clear and their ensemble so perfect that I could almost “read the score” in my head, although the composer and his work were previously unknown to me. The most successful movement, for me, was “Great yawns are in blossom,” which nearly rose to Barber Adagio grandeur. The composer, in attendance, gratefully received his due applause, and showed his beaming approval of the ensemble, any composer’s dream.

The quartet followed this with a thrilling rendition of the great Schumann Piano Quintet in E-flat major, Op. 44, the first great work for this combination in the nineteenth century, acclaimed and beloved immediately after its premiere, by all except perhaps the work’s instigator: Franz Liszt, who called it “Leipzig” music. Maybe he was referring to the omnipresent squareness of phrasing. It takes a great deal of refinement to make the listener forget about that issue, and we were in good hands here, with the addition of pianist Drew Petersen (an Avery Fisher Career Grant recipient!) to the excellent quartet. This rendition thrived on the electric energy of all the players. There was only one “miscalculation” in my opinion: the second movement’s principal theme, a funeral march, should have a more searching, broken quality, more mystery; it’s very difficult to achieve, and they were in fact playing the movement in the proper tempo. The ensemble eventually got to that quality in the final page of the movement. Naturally, the quick movements were played with excitement that did not exclude sensitivity. Not only is the work cyclic, but the descending six-note “Clara” cipher appears in the first two movements, secret messages being Schumann’s default setting.

After intermission came the world premiere of Robert Paterson’s Quartet No. 3, which is also a five-movement series of programmatic content. This is high-energy music, perfectly suited to the quartet’s strengths. The Auction Chant movement was a wild romp, a description of the frenetic sing-song of a typical auctioneer, combined with witty references to country fiddling, often found in conjunction with such sales. Anthem was a humorous take on fight songs and state songs played at sporting events. The other three movements were harder to define—if one hadn’t read the program notes, perhaps they could have been about “anything,” which is a recalcitrant issue with program music ever since its beginnings. Nevertheless, they provided a great vehicle to display the Indianapolis’ many virtues. Paterson, also in attendance, took his bow to the roar of the appreciative audience.

The group closed with Debussy’s iconic String Quartet in G minor, “Opus 10,” which is funny because it is the only work with an opus number in Debussy’s output, added by his reluctant publisher to make it seem more “official.” This is a monothematic, four-movement work, with constantly shifting, elusive harmonic subtleties, modal inclinations, and the groundbreaking “tritone dominant,” in this case G-C sharp (sometimes spelled D-flat), which occurs not only melodically, but in the tonal relationships of the movements. Here the Indianapolis Quartet showed its most ravishing playing of the night. They fully revealed the inherent beauty and mystery in the score, creating ethereal dynamic contrasts, while faithfully executing everything this elaborate work demands. It was a dazzling achievement.

Aleksander Simic, cello

Tatiana Goncharova, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

Tuesday, February 25, 2020, 8 PM

By any standard of measurement, 16-year-old Austrian-born cellist Aleksander Simic (his parents are Hungarian-Serbian) made a very impressive recital debut on Wednesday in New York. Sixteen, let’s let that sink in. Although his program was conservative chronologically (all nineteenth century), it contained two demanding standard repertoire masterpieces, and two showpieces, all played with sweet tone, sufficient, sometimes awe-inspiring, technique, and an un-showy focus that is often rare in young people. Mr. Simic was ably assisted by the hyper-refined pianist Tatiana Goncharova, who was the picture of deference, providing a plush red carpet for Simic to walk on. My only reservation, aside from the short-stick used on the Steinway, was that perhaps she was too deferent, a common enough concern in cello-piano recitals. Fear of balance however, sometimes made her well-phrased contributions take a back seat to the soloist rather than sound like strands fully participating in the musical conversation. She did break out fully late in the program, to my great pleasure (see below).

The recital began with the treacherous Sonata in A minor, D. 821, the“Arpeggione.”. This work, written for a now-extinct instrument (except for museum collections), is almost always played on the cello. Poor old arpeggione, a six-stringed instrument, fretted like a guitar but bowed like a cello. The fear in modern cello performances (which have four strings) is that the work will become a strenuous acrobatic display; its reaches into the upper notes of the instrument are relentless, yet they must sound lyrical and ‘easy.’ Mr. Simic gave us no cause for apprehension—in fact, his handling of the high registers was assured all evening. The lyricism so crucial to this work’s success was revealed so sensitively, my only concern was that there was a certain emotional distance, it seemed almost too reserved, though lovely.

Next came one of Paganini’s ‘trick’ showpieces, originally for violin. The legend dates back to Paganini’s manic touring in early nineteenth century Europe. He’d play so violently that he’d break one of his strings, continue the recital with just three strings, break another one, continue with two, then break that one and continue with just one string. Of course, all this was figured out way ahead of time, but nonetheless impressive. The Variations on One String on a theme from Rossini’s Mosè in Egitto is that piece, and it still stuns when given a passionate run-through on the cello. Here, Mr. Simic showed his ebullience, both in the lyric line and the busy interrupting cadenzas (a quality we would hear later in the program as well). The lavishly printed and photographed program that was distributed didn’t even mention the ‘one-string’ part of the title, and I’m not sure the nearly sold-out audience even realized what an achievement they were hearing.

After intermission, the duo returned with Brahms’ great Cello Sonata No.1 in E Minor, Op. 38, the fruit of his incessant study of baroque counterpoint, in this case Bach’s magisterial summation: Die Kunst der Fuge. The first and third of the three movements are based on permutations of themes from it. (There was a destroyed Adagio movement at one point, what a loss!) Here Mr. Simic stepped fully into the music, and he showed a great deal more emotional vividness (his eyes also traveled a bit more toward the score, which he had ignored completely in the first half). His sound, it was very good to note, changed and became much more appropriately muscular. In the first movement, I wished for more left-hand sound from Ms. Goncharova (see above), as it contains a lot of motivic content, but in the difficult fugal finale, both players really “let it rip,” providing the most satisfying combination of the evening.

Then came the final showstopper, David Popper’s Hungarian Rhapsody, Op. 68. Any number of pianists would recognize at least two of its themes, they served Liszt well in his own Hungarian Rhapsodies. Nowadays it is “politically correct” to note that this genre of work bears no resemblance to authentic Romany music; they are westernized versions, music played by strolling “gypsy” violinists in cafes, using some stereotyped gestures and melodies. But why let that get in the way of our enjoyment, especially when they’re in the hands of such a gifted player as Mr. Simic? Here, he let his impish side come out a bit more (though his focus and concentration never called attention to himself), and the work certainly thrives when the player “winks” at the audience as if to say: “See, not only can I do that, I just did it.” The alternations of lassu and fris, interspersed with crazily florid cadenzas testing every harmonic, were spooled out in masterly fashion. The hall went wild, and deservedly so.

Mr. Simic and Ms. Goncharova favored us with Elgar’s Salut d’amour (another violin original), which was sweetly played. He is sixteen after all, and I suspect that there will be more, shall we say, ‘subtext’ to a morceau like this as he grows and matures. A very impressive player though, also photogenic (which is important), and definitely a “rising star.”