Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 11, 2026

The Chinese New Year is bringing in celebrations all over the world, and none the more festive (and extensive!) than the one I listened to last night (February 11^th) at Weill Hall! Pianist Tiehan Pan (a graduate of Manhattan School of Music who is currently serving on the institution’s International Advisory Board) has put together an evening full of talent and joy, featuring many of his colleagues from MSM and a few other young musicians from Juilliard, the Special Music School, and the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. Mr. Pan, who is also the leader of Lincoln Square Music (described in the program notes as “an education consulting firm that supports institutions and individuals in modernizing arts education for real-world impact.”), is a very fine pianist and a talented curator and presenter. I rather liked his idea of assembling a group of young artists to evoke a 1980’s “Operatic Gala” feel, where each artist performs just one work, not longer than a few minutes, trying to win over the audience in an almost contest-like display of artistry. It must be said, the concert went on for too long (I will get to that later on), but I admit I didn’t feel the time passing and, for the most part, I was completely taken with the impressive musicianship of these young performers.

The first half of the program – which lasted close to two hours! – was divided into three sections: The Classic (where well-known and much loved works from the mainstream repertoire were presented), The Exotic (still mostly repertoire with a “stamp of approval” pedigree, but slightly more adventurous), and The New (a combination of vibrant and exciting new works and AI generated compositions, a fascinating and very intriguing offering).

The Gala opener came from tenor Tong Zhang, whose rendition of Lehár’s Dein ist mein ganze Herz impressed with excellent diction and beautiful phrasing, though the projection seemed a bit forced at times, especially with such perfect acoustics as provided by Weill Hall. 

Next, violinist Marina Alba proved to be an enchanting presence and produced a beautiful tone while resolving all the technical challenges of Kreisler’s Recitative and Scherzo Caprice, showing musical intelligence and refinement.

Pianist Guanxiao Yang delivered the fiendishly difficult Feux Follets by Liszt with elegance and humor. His playing was supple and never heavy-handed, but perhaps a little too careful of taking risks with tempo and thus lacking fire.

Mozart’s Cherubino aria Voi che sapete from Le nozze di Figaro was given an odd interpretation by Zimo Wang: she had problems with the intonation, and the meaning of the words (and the whole story of the character) seemed lost on her. She did, however, wear a stunning and elaborate dress!

Weiwei Kong’s rendition of Dvořák’s Song to the Moon from Rusalka was lovely and fittingly floating. She could have use more nuance and freedom in the phrasing, but her voice and projection were beautifully adjusted to the magical resonance of the hall.

Ending the Classic section of the program, violinist Alix Auclair was joined by pianist Michael Wang in the first movement of Richard Strauss’ Violin Sonata, Op. 18. Ms. Auclair gave a polished and dignified performance, always in full command of the technical difficulties of the piece. She produced a warm tone and played with intelligence and good taste. I felt that at times she could have been better supported by the pianist, especially when navigating the sweeping long lines upon which the entire movement is built.

The Exotic segment was opened by baritone Wei Chen with a shaky version of the Toreador Song from Bizet’s Carmen. The performance lacked gravitas and both performers – singer and pianist – seem to push and pull in different direction, never quite settling on the right pacing for this music. 

Tenor Ramon Gabriel Tenefrancia is the possessor of a stunningly beautiful and capable instrument, as evident in his very musical rendition of Francisco Santiago’s Madaling Araw, but he still needs time to develop and tame that raw material.

Next, pianist Daria Podorozhnova played the Infernal Dance from The Firebird by Stravinsky (arranged by Agosti) with the authority of a fully mature artist. The more intimate and poetic moments were also fully realized. While she produced crystal clear sound throughout and her voicing of the dense chords was perfect, I felt that she could have built up to a more ferocious finale.

Jamil Salizade’s lyrical playing and stylistically accurate performance of Rachmaninov’s Étude-tableaux, Op. 39, No. 8 still needs time to mature and find all of the magic of this heartbreaking music.

Ares Economides’ version of Bartók’s Piano Sonata (first movement) proved very capable but undifferentiated. The accents didn’t have enough “bite” and the rhythmical patterns were softened to the point where they almost lost their potency.

Violinist Betania Johnny and pianist Ainslie Mathew had fun performing African Dancer, the first movement from William Grant Still’s Suite for Violin and Piano, but could have used a more diverse pallet of dynamics which would infuse the music with even more excitement.

Closing this section of the evening, the piano duo Yufei Liu – Yuyue Zhou brought top level energy with an engaging version of Lisa Kaplan’s Boogie-Woogie, complete with elbow clusters and hand tapping for maximum response from the audience.

The next and final segment of the first half was, for me, the most successful and fascinating of the evening. Soprano Zihan Ning seemed to have stepped out of a Chinese fairy tale to deliver her interpretation of Jin Se (Brocaded Zither), which was truly magical. She was also perfectly supported by Mr. Pan, whose gorgeous piano introduction will stay in my ear for many weeks!

Equally beautiful and full of emotion and imagery was the performance of Yuehan Wang in My Faithful Heart Doth Wait for Thee. The voice and the piano blended perfectly and both artists (Mr. Pan was again the pianist) took full advantage of the pristine acoustics of Weill Hall. 

In one of the evenings’ most memorable moments, pianist Vladislav Kern achieved the almost impossible-  he introduced us to one of his own works, Dreamworld Suite, which not only would I want to listen to again and again, but as a pianist myself I would absolutely love to learn and introduce to more audiences throughout the world. In his composition, Mr. Kern creates a magical sound world in which both performer and listener can dream together. A superb pianist as well as an immensely talented composer, he blends melody, harmony and rhythm in a way that is at once fully original and universally relatable, without copying any previous style. As the piece came to an end, I thought to myself this is the kind of new music we need in order for classical music to survive and thrive into this century!

Saltwater, a piano piece by Elle Gurevich, was a fluid evocation of water and perpetual motion, reminiscent of Ravel. Written with intelligence and deft handling of a composer’s arsenal, and performed by Ms. Gurevich with grace and charm, the work was easy on the ears but not particularly original.

Olivia Wu, a 13 year-old singer and performer, decided to employ AI to help her tell the story of the White Horse (related to the Year of the Horse, celebrated this year in the Chinese tradition). The result was a piece that may very well give us a look into what the future holds for the creation of new music and how we as humans will (or will not) be slowly replaced by technology. I commend the idea and I found the result fascinating, albeit not necessarily convincing. The work sounded like a pop song (sung in English and Chinese by Ms. Wu)  with simple harmonic progressions which are very effective in insinuating themselves into the ears of less sophisticated listeners. What it lacked in originality, it made up in sentimentality and cuteness. The question is what do we value more, and what will help our art form survive- giving in to the taste of a wider audience, or preserving an appetite for the hard-won challenges?

As if this last question was hanging too heavily on our minds, the finale of the evening’s first half (!) was appropriately cheerful and low-key: baritone Peiming Cai (expressive and very musical, with a sure and powerful voice) was joined by Wei Chen, Zihan Ning and Yuehan Wang in the song The Moon represents my Heart, a lovely way to end a joyous celebration.

But of course the evening was not over! After a rather long (but much needed) intermission, I was stunned to see how few people opted to come back for the second half. I strongly believe that, in spite of the excessive length of the evening , neither the performer (Yingxin Wang) nor the featured composer of this second half (veteran Chinese composer Weijie Gao) deserved such treatment. In fact, while I was wondering if I would manage to keep my mind fresh for yet another 40 minutes of music, I found myself very much convinced by Ms. Wang’s excellent performance and by the rich musical offerings of this part of the concert.

The small piano suite Age of Childhood is composed of five short pieces, like pastel-colored sketches on faded paper. Ms. Wang played them with bristling clarity and sharp articulation. They were followed by Three Songs after Poems from Yuan Dynasty, which she played with a singing tone and a wide range of dynamics. Her articulation left me speechless. The music (all by Mr. Gao) is sweepingly romantic and descriptive; it belongs to a specific time and place, and its charm resides in transporting us there effortlessly. 

Autumn Fields had a different feel, employing more dissonance, sharp rhythmical figures and expressionistic gestures. The score is technically challenging but Yingxin Wang had everything under control. The musical language reminded me of Szymanowski’s piano suite Masques, a work which I wholeheartedly admire and which deserves a better place in today’s concert life. At times, I felt that Ms. Wang could have explored using even quieter dynamics. The following piece, Winter Snow, employed similar language and further showcased the pianist’s technical and artistic gifts. The next work, Three Preludes, was played with great virtuosity and commitment. 

The last selection on the program (we were now approaching 11:00 pm) was a two-movement suite titled Memories of Childhood. The first piece, Nostalgia, felt a little forceful in its tone, but it did feature some beautiful, evocative moments. The second, Childhood Innocence, lacked a bit in… childhood innocence, and I could not quite see why the composer chose that title. But these were minor quibbles which should not cloud the effect of a truly enjoyable evening (both parts!) which was put together with thoughtfulness and love. Love for music, for young talent, and for the Chinese tradition!

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Chengcheng Ma, piano

Merkin Hall, Kaufman Music Center, New York, NY

January 8, 2026

Forte International Group is, according to its own mission statement, a global cultural enterprise dedicated to bridging the musical worlds of China and the US, specifically through providing promising musicians with premier performance opportunities and resources that help their career development. On January 8, at Merkin Hall in Manhattan, the organization presented a piano recital featuring Chengcheng Ma, as part of their “Signed Artist Series.”  This was the first concert of the group’s 2026 season. Mr. Ma presented an eclectic program composed by some war-horses of the piano repertoire combined with new works (some receiving their New York premiere) by contemporary composers who have a strong professional connection with this young pianist.

Personally, I don’t think that today, as we enter the second quarter of the 21st century, and especially in a cultural haven such as New York City, there is a true necessity to “bridge” the musical worlds of China and America. I think that we are all fully aware of Chinese musicians’ extraordinary gifts, both on technical and artistic levels, as proved for many years and through many generations of outstanding performers. Therefore, I would imagine that, when an organization such as Forte International Group decides to present a new artist to a New York audience, the artist would be quite extraordinary indeed. I am sorry to say that I did not find Mr. Ma to meet that expectation, in spite of his obvious technical prowess and openness to a diverse and challenging repertoire (for which I fully commend him).

The program started with a piece by Kitty Nez, suite française (no caps), which was described in the program notes as a “free meditation on the richly flourished keyboard music of Couperin.” The piece has five distinct movements, all borrowing titles from the classic Baroque dances: Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, Gavotte and Rondeau. The music switches between quoting actual Couperin pieces and trying to develop an updated neo-Baroque language. Unfortunately, it goes on for far too long and soon wears out its welcome. Only in the last movement – a Rondo entitled “The Bees” – did I find the juxtaposition between Couperin’s passages and the stream of consciousness employed by the original interludes quite effective, and I kept wishing that we’d arrived at this earlier, and with less meandering. Mr. Ma displayed impressive clarity in all the ornaments and very crisp articulation, but his performance needed greater charm and imagination, both of which I tend to believe are essential to Ms. Nez’s vision of this musical bridge between two very different periods.

Next on the program was a puzzling choice: the complete set of Chopin’s Op. 10 Etudes. I really couldn’t see the connection between this monumental cycle and the suite we’d heard right before, so my guess is that Mr. Ma (not unlike most young and ambitious pianists) is simply in love with these works and wanted to include them in his recital. While I partly understand such reasons, I think this particular cycle should only be performed if the pianist has something truly original and remarkable to say and also if they are capable to fully transcend the onerous technical difficulties and reveal the great emotional diversity of each of these miniatures.

Chengcheng Ma started the cycle with a capable but perfunctory rendition of the majestic No. 1, lacking spirituality and finesse. In the tricky No. 2, he lost his place and struggled with the material. The intimate and poetic No. 3 lacked its most essential ingredient: a singing tone, and the rubato felt rather gauche. No. 4 was played at what I call “Richter speed” (I invite you to watch the famous video clip on YouTube), but without the clarity and tension of that unforgettable version. No. 5 continued the speed journey, and in the highly chromatic No. 6 the pianist made use of the same pattern of push and pull to emphasize new harmonies and colors. No. 7 was a big blur of sound, and in No. 8 the pianist again had some memory troubles – unfortunately every music lover knows this one note by note, and every accident becomes even more noticeable. In the sigh-inducing and expressive No. 9, I wish Mr. Ma had shown more awareness of the emotional possibilities offered by the key of F minor. No. 10 went by too fast (quite literally!), and No. 11 suffered from lots of missed notes. The famous Revolutionary Etude was given an impressive technical reading, with a truly precise and light-speed left hand, but it lacked nobility and turned into an exercise rather than the heartfelt statement which Chopin intended. 

After intermission, Mr. Ma was back with a new work, Many’s the Time I’ve Seen Her Nude at the Piano, by Rodney Lister. The title is much more exciting than the actual work (a Prokofiev-like Toccata), in spite of Mr. Ma’s efforts to render it with precision and accuracy. 

He followed this with Liszt’s Dante Sonata, performed with the score. I am a great advocate of playing with music, but I wondered why Mr. Ma used the score for this piece and not for the Chopin Etudes. Aside from obvious reasons to use the score when performing new music, I think the decision should reflect a certain philosophy of the performer and therefore be consistent throughout a recital. Still, with or without the music, Mr. Ma charged again at supersonic speed through most of the difficult passages, with different degrees of success. This caused, quite frequently, a lack of tension and purpose. Listening to his otherwise impressive playing I kept wondering why so many young pianists seem to think that this work is an unabashed display of pyrotechnics and brush off almost entirely the philosophical and deeply conflictual side of it. Chengcheng Ma is a musician undoubtedly capable of conquering most technical challenges and has ability to unleash the expressive treasures of such music, so one wonders why he seemed content to just accelerate the tempo at the cost of missing the emotional twists and turns which give meaning to the piece.

The evening concluded with a short piece for four hands by Zhao Zhang (Hua Yi Dance), which Mr. Ma played together with Yimiao Fang. The two pianists seem to have a lovely rapport, and they navigated with charisma and assurance through this very short musical sketch. The audience (an almost packed Merkin Hall) responded with enthusiasm. 

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Yoon Jin Park, cello

Marc A. Scorca Hall, The National Opera Center, New York, NY

December 6, 2025

On a breezy Saturday evening in New York City, the Spanish based Sociedad de Compañerismo de Compositores (The Composers’ Fellowship Society) presented the world premiere of Ross Avant’s monumental new work for solo cello, the Suite No. 2 titled Venient Tenebrae (which translates to “Let the Darkness Come”). Initially I was surprised that the entire concert was to consist of only one piece, but the fifty-minute performance time of this work soon made me understand that the performance would feel anything but short. 

The master of ceremonies for the evening was Jeanette Hoelscher, who introduced herself as a New York-based actress and model. She was a lovely presence, wearing a very high cut dress, and she brought elegance and a breath of fresh air (no pun intended) to the event; however, I couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the services of a classically trained musician would have better served the purpose of this concert, especially during the post-performance talk (with the composer and the performer). Ms. Hoelscher was obviously well prepared and asked pertinent and sometimes interesting questions, but since this was a new work, reaching the audience’s ears for the very first time, it would have helped to have a moderator who could dive deeper into more specific questions about the motivations, goals and inspirations which led the composer to write this unusual (at least for our times) piece of music.

When using the title “cello suite,” one inevitably thinks of Bach and the legacy he left with his extraordinary works in this genre. Even if the musical language is very different, I did feel that Ross Avant was somewhat paraphrasing (or at least paying homage?) to his famous predecessor. Mr. Avant’s work also comes in six movements, which is the established form used by Bach. Both composers use the specifics of the instrument in order to convey a wide range of emotions, from the intimate to the cathartic. Bach looks at traditional dances (such as Allemande, Courante, Sarabande) as inspiration and heartbeat for each movement, and perhaps because of this he achieves great diversity (both in tempo and expression) from one movement to another. In Mr. Avant’s work, the first five movements sounded too similar, almost to the point where I had trouble deciding whether we were still listening to one movement, or have graduated to the next. Only in the last movement did the composer really stir up more contrasting material (an entire pizzicato section, some syncopated melodies) which brought a much needed climax to an otherwise meandering opus. As I was listening to the former movements, I wondered if they had titles, or at least some suggestion as to what inspired them- sadly, the programs were not ready in time for the event, and nobody who was present had the benefit of knowing anything about the piece which was being performed. The answer – which I found later on – is that no, there are no titles for the movements. When I was eventually provided with the missing playbill, I read that Mr. Avant wrote the suite as an homage to the German-Jewish philosopher, critic and essayist Walter Benjamin, who tragically committed suicide in order to avoid being sent to a concentration camp. Mr. Avant’s intent is to evoke not only Benjamin’s memory, but also that of countless victims of the Holocaust and other authoritarian atrocities perpetrated during the Second World War.

As such, the piece is important and undoubtedly deserves to be heard. It is also very refreshing to hear a fifty-minute work for solo cello, crafted with passion and minute care for details, especially in an era obsessed with two-minute Instagram videos, instant gratification, and shorter and shorter attention spans. Ross Avant works here against the current, and that is not only commendable but also encouraging-  perhaps, after all, classical music, and its most traditional forms,  can still provide a thoroughly stimulating and enjoyable experience, without any gimmick. Mr. Avant, who apparently dabbles successfully into many different genres (movie and TV soundtracks, pop tunes) is perhaps an ideal link between the old and the new, bringing to the classical parameters a bit of 21st century salt and pepper. His writing is atmospheric, evocative and I would describe it as faux-melodic in the sense that one can hear many beautifully shaped lines which are, however, impossible to reproduce with the voice or even to remember them exactly after they brushed against your ears. I felt at times that this music might work better as an accompaniment for a beautifully shot sunset in an art house movie than as a stand-alone, listen-with-your-eyes-closed musical journey, but perhaps this is a (small) price to pay for bringing a less savvy audience into the concert hall. 

In the program notes (which I could only read the day after the concert), it is said that the Suite is a “meditation on finality, sacrifice, and the power of resilience.” These are very big words, and listening to the piece as it was performed on Saturday night I would not say that they all came to my mind. Perhaps the cellist, Yoon Jin Park, would need more time to explore the depth and meaning of this complex and ambitious work. Ms. Park is a wonderful performer who plays with grace and a lovely genuineness, making even the most technically awkward passages sound organic and natural. Considering the sheer length of the work, her accomplishment is exceptional and her commitment truly inspiring. I did feel, however, that she was almost avoiding big contrasts as if not to disturb a delicate balance, embedded somewhere in the DNA of the piece. I’m not sure this approach is consistent with the feelings of finality, sacrifice and strength; I dare suggest that a larger spectrum of colors, moods and dynamic changes would help the music seem fresher and even more exciting. Still, there was much to admire in the performance, and in the work itself; towards the end of the fifth movement, the young couple sitting directly ahead of me touched their heads and embraced with sweet affection. What more can we ask from a piece of music, then to bring out the love within us and allow us a moment to savor it?

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

János Balázs, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 9, 2025

How do we pay homage to our idols? How do we trace our inspirations and, once we acknowledged them openly, how do we avoid being compared (probably less favorably) to those who we admire so passionately? On November 9^th at Weill Hall, the Hungarian pianist János Balázs (who is the Artistic Director of the Cziffra Festival, the co-presenter of the event, together with the Liszt Institute in New York) tackled this difficult task. For his Carnegie Hall debut, he constructed a program meant to celebrate the great Hungarian pianist György Cziffra, who was apparently the reason why young János became fascinated with the piano, and especially with the fiery Romantic repertoire in which his illustrious predecessor shone. 

Mr. Balázs’ name is tightly connected with that of Cziffra; he not only won a couple of Cziffra competitions in Europe, but also created a Festival in his name and is a tireless promoter of his artistic legacy. In other words, he does the good work. He also speaks lovingly about his role model, inspiring the listener to seek out older recordings of the great master, something which is touching and relatively rare in today’s world where the “me” culture is taking over more and more aggressively. He is also a good speaker- considering that there was no printed program and no intermission during the performance, it would have been easy for the less savvy audience members to get lost in the intricacies of the program, but Mr. Balázs offered charming and informative “notes” before every group of works, making the evening flow organically and avoiding lulls.

The selection of works included pieces famously performed by Cziffra, such as Liszt’s Dante Sonata and Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6; works which he adapted or arranged, such as the paraphrase on Strauss’s The Blue Danube; and also a few novelties by Hungarian composers Peter Eötvös, László Dubrovay and by Mr. Balázs himself, who treated his very appreciative audience to an improvisation on Hungarian folk tunes. In the latter selections, the young pianist proved to be a genial, humorous and slightly cheeky performer/improviser. The two miniatures, one by Eötvös (Dances of the Brush-Footed Butterfly, full of imagery and character), and the second by Dubrovay (Swallow Songs, a very short and winged musical afterthought) were especially welcome additions to the otherwise heavily Romantic entries.

In these Romantic masterpieces, János Balázs had the opportunity to emulate his famous fellow Hungarian, but to my ears the attempt was not very successful. Cziffra was, by all accounts, an enfant terrible of the keyboard, with a monster technique that allowed him to attack some pieces at supersonic speed, which often led to criticism by the more conservative critics. He was, however, an artist of supreme musicality, who paid great attention to detail and delivered each performance with absolute grace. In contrast, Mr. Balázs seemed to me a forceful performer, concerned more with physical power than spirituality. Where Cziffra demonstrated agility in service to the music, Mr. Balázs demonstrated – musically speaking – an approach that has some majesty but stresses athleticism. His interpretation of Chopin’s Ballade No. 3 lacked the poetic fluidity which is one of this piece’s elusive challenges; the pianist often produced a warm, singing tone but suffered from stiff phrasing and an almost militaristic feel. In Liszt’s Les Jeux d’eau à la Villa d’Este the lowest dynamic was somewhere in the mp vicinity, which is unfortunate when one has the advantage of performing in a hall with such superb acoustics as Weill. Cziffra’s paraphrase on Strauss’s The Blue Danube (slightly embellished by Mr. Balázs’ own contributions) was given an interpretation that felt harsh and needed more finesse. In Isolde’s Liebestod (a famous Liszt transcription after Wagner) the notes were there, but the meaning between them remained opaque; the most transcendental moments sounded like exercises in polyphony, and the grand climax was, again, a beastly fff. In Liszt’s Dante Sonata the demonic quality was always placed in the foreground (complete with a facial frown), but it never really sounded ominous; the only truly frightening element was the volume itself. Last on the program, but not least in decibel levels, the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6 unfolded as a cascade of fast octaves leading to an apocalyptic finale, but all the opportunities to convey wit and nostalgia – as so often is the case with these virtuosic little poems – faded in the shadow of technical wonderment.

Such are, in the opinion of this reviewer, the challenges of linking one’s performance too closely to that of a legendary artist. Perhaps if Mr. Balázs had chosen a more personal selection, filled with more improvisations (to which he seems quite gifted) and a few more contemporary works (which he plays with vitality and a keen sense for contrasts), his incontestable gifts would have shone brighter; such as it was, in a repertoire very much associated with Cziffra, I regret to say that the younger pianist fell short of carrying the torch, so to speak. What I found disappointing is that he seemed to have misunderstood what made Cziffra really special- it wasn’t how many notes he could play per second (and admittedly he could play more than most pianists!), or how much power he released into the keys; it was the razor-sharp lucidity with which he penetrated each piece’s meaning, and the way he imbued every phrase with meaning and grace. János Balázs is undoubtedly a talented pianist who is capable of giving convincing and vivid interpretations. I’m just not sure that it is meant to happen in the same repertoire that Cziffra played.

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Salley Koo, violin

Dawn Dongeun Wohn, violin

Daniel McDonough, cello

Alexander Solomon, piano

Bargemusic, Brooklyn, NY

May 17, 2025

Dari means “bridge” in Korean; this is what Salley Koo, a Korean-American violinist and Professor at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, told us during her recent performance at Bargemusic. Ms. Koo, using funding from the Campus Research Board of the said University, commissioned six Korean composers to write new works for her and her friends (violinist Dawn Dongeun Wohn, cellist Daniel McDonough, and pianist Alexander Solomon) to perform. In fact, as Ms. Koo kindly explained to us, each composer was asked to write two works: one for the performers I’ve mentioned (either solo, or in different combinations) and a companion piece, less challenging musically and technically, for Ms. Koo’s students to learn and hopefully present in concert, alone or side by side with their mentor. This project was meant to “bridge the gap” between Ms. Koo’s self-proclaimed enthusiasm in promoting new music (especially reflecting her heritage) and her students’ reluctance to tackle contemporary repertoire, both in the classroom and on stage. Sadly, on Saturday afternoon – when two performances took place, one at 2:00 pm and another at 4:00 pm – the relatively small audience was treated only to the first category of works (those written for Ms. Koo and her colleagues) while the second category (the pieces written for the students, which presumably had a much more evident educational purpose) were nowhere to be heard. I would have liked to see (and listen to) Ms. Koo perform along with one or two of her disciples these newly commissioned works, and perhaps then I could have better understood the educational value of this project. As it was, the result felt more like a vanity project for Ms. Koo rather than a much-needed and interesting foray into the rewards of exposing the younger generation to fresh and exciting new works.

The audience could find a piece of paper on each seat, prompting us to use a QR code if we wanted more information about the concert, the artists, and the works to be performed. I did so diligently, and the code sent me to the Bargemusic website where, after a bit of online fumbling, I was directed to the calendar of concerts. There I could see the names of the performers and the titles of the works, but nothing else; however, there was a link (which I had to copy and paste into my browser) which sent me to Ms. Koo’s site, where more details could be found about the Dari project. Alas, still no detailed program of the concert! After more research done with a certain amount of embarrassment, since I am a strong advocate of the “no cellphone use” policy at LIVE concerts, I finally found a link which sent me to a .pdf file in which all the information I was looking for could be found. So, from this moment on, every time I wanted to look up something in connection to what was being played on stage, I had to check my phone and possibly look (to the outside observer) as if I were texting or browsing the Internet instead on listening attentively- and I thought that we were making concentrated efforts to encourage people to disconnect from devices and give their full attention to the performance!

And now on to the pieces on the program- first came a solo violin work by Leo Chang, titled 78924, which was about as exciting as the title. Ms. Koo, accompanied by sound effects recorded on tape, produced long, sustained notes which eventually – through a series of waves of crescendos and decrescendos – became louder and more ominous. 

The second piece, by Texu Kim, was called Lots of As and a bunch of Bs – and it was exactly that! Still, the two performers (Ms. Koo was joined here by Dawn Dongeun Wohn) did their best and made reference, for the only time during the concert, to the raison’d’être of the project: the piece evoked a professor-student “in class” exploration of techniques, sonorities, and modes of expression. 

The first concert ended with Juri Seo’s piano trio July Mountain, which offered a fairly traditional soundscape along with beautiful teamwork between the three performers. This piece had more substance than the previous works and was very enjoyable to listen to. I spotted some influences from Michael Nyman’s movie soundtracks, heavy on atmosphere, but I found the acoustic of the place too resonant (frankly, loud) for the intimate effects that the music required.

For the 4:00 pm concert, Ms. Koo was back in her lovely traditional Korean outfit, matched by her usual cheer and sparkle, and started with Matthew Jihoon Pellegrino’s Sanjo Sonata. She played many notes, with obvious prowess and control, but the meaning of the music remained strangely opaque to my ears. While I am a strong advocate for using sheet music during a performance, I did wonder if perhaps memorizing the piece would have given Ms. Koo a wider perspective on the meaning of this work and help her rise above the technicalities in order to shape the content better. One of the characteristics of the work – as described in the program notes I was reading on my phone – is to increase speed from one section to the next. I very much enjoyed this concept, but I didn’t find that the tempo acceleration was matched by progress in intensity or drama.

At the heart of the second program was The unreal never lived by Kyong Mee Choi, a work for piano and violin. This work felt a bit long, but it was played with true commitment by both artists who seemed more emotionally invested here than in the other pieces on the program. The many dynamic contrasts were fully persuasive, and you could feel the energy emanating from these two talented musicians. 

Hee Yun Kim’s piano trio Reboot closed the concert and transported us to a different era, in which melody and harmony still reigned supreme. I admit it was lovely to listen to tango-like rhythms and phrases of luscious lyricism, which are rarer and rarer in today’s musical language. I enjoyed listening to each musician – and they all had their moments to shine! By the end of the piece, I did feel that its intentions were not fully realized, and by trying to be more accessible it became somewhat aimless and facile; but I still applaud Ms. Kim’s courage to use older tools in crafting a work for our times!

Since these two concerts were presumably meant to bridge a gap of understanding and appreciation between two generations of artists and encourage the younger ones to open up spiritually and professionally to new ways of making music, I wondered – again – if by commissioning such an ample project Ms. Koo is any closer to her declared goal. I sincerely hope so. On the other hand, there were so few young(er) people present on Saturday, and I’m sorry to report that a young man of 14 or 15, who was sitting directly behind me during the first concert, was fast asleep by the time the last note was played. The applause did wake him up, though, and perhaps that is suggestive of the fact that, even if we don’t necessarily understand something right away, being able to experience it (and witnessing other people’s enthusiasm about it) could be enough to spark one’s interest! And that is already an accomplishment.

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

BlackBox Ensemble; Dice Trio

DiMenna Center for Classical Music, New York, NY

May 10, 2025

On a beautiful afternoon in New York City, a small but dedicated group of supporters of contemporary music gathered at the DiMenna Center to listen to a prize winners’ concert. The Dwight & Ursula Mamlok Prize is awarded every year to a soloist and/or an ensemble making a significant contribution to the performance of contemporary music, with a special focus on Ursula Mamlok’s compositions; the presentation of the prize alternates between New York and Berlin.

We were treated to the performances of two groups of talented musicians: the BlackBox Ensemble (who performed in the first half of the concert) and the Dice Trio (who closed the evening, after the award giving ceremony took place in the middle).

BlackBox Ensemble is a group of ten performers: soprano Amber Evans, flutist Annie Nikunen, clarinetist Tyler Neidermayer, violinists Lauren Conroy and Teagan Faran, cellist Jordan Bartow, pianist Yifei Xu, percussionist J Clancy,  double bassist Sam Zagnit, and conductor Leonard Bopp, who sometimes does double-duty as a trumpeter. They play in perfect synchrony of sound and musical intention, as if they have been working together their entire lives. They produce a fascinating palette of colors and timbres which help them create a dream-like atmosphere, particularly effective in the intimate concert space at DiMenna. 

The first piece on the program was Ursula Mamlok’s Die Laterne, in which Ms. Evans’ beautiful German diction was a pleasure to listen to, and Mr. Bopp led all performers with exceptional precision and grace. The work, though quite short, makes highly effective use of many different techniques of sound production, and my only quibble was that I would have liked to have an English translation of the text (some of the pieces on the program did have one, but not all).

Didi Gu’s Where Quiet Lives Gather is filled with whispers and squeaky sound effects, evocative of the small living creatures it depicts. With absolute clarity and a seemingly infinite array of shades, the ensemble yet again created a magical sound world brought to life with extraordinary vividness. While I enjoyed the ability to “get intimate” with this music in such a small space, I couldn’t help wondering how it must feel to listen to it on a larger stage, with more generous acoustic, where the mysterious and mystical quality of Ms. Gu’s language could have made an even greater impact.

BlackBox finished their set with Arcades by George Lewis which was – or at least seemed to be – the longest piece on their program. To my ears its structure seemed almost cacophonous, maze-like, and vertigo-inducing. Perhaps a few program notes about the work would have helped identify its meaning, or at least offer a starting point for understanding it better. I felt that – yet again – the performers did their best (Ms. Xu’s repeated notes and trills a particular standout!) but after the first two works, Mr. Lewis’ effort felt a bit like a letdown.

Much as I enjoyed the BlackBox ensemble, I can’t quite get rid of the feeling that they still represent a somewhat established version of the “classical musician,” anchored more in the past tradition than gazing forward towards innovation. They look and sound exceedingly professional and the way they approach music is with reverence and minute attention to detail – all of which is meant to be high praise! However, if we are looking to be surprised, intrigued, perhaps even a little shocked, we should direct our listening gaze towards the second group featured on this program: the Dice Trio.

Adeline DeBella (flute & others), Grace Pressley (saxophone & others) and Sam Friedman (trumpet) seem very, very young. They are dressed in (chic) street clothes, suggesting more a “Sunday-afternoon in Central Park” performance group than a “serious” classical music ensemble. Their choice of repertoire is also quite different in tone and style, the Mamlok piece notwithstanding. They seem to enjoy creating sound effects more than shaping melodies and harmonies. When I glimpsed at one of the performers’ iPad, I almost couldn’t recognize any traditional musical notation; to my “middle-aged” eyes the score looked more like an MRI than sheet music. More than once during their performance I was wondering if I were listening to music, or rather to extremely well organized noises. And yet, unsure as I might have felt about my own level of enjoyment, I can’t help but feel that, with the Dice Trio, we actually did cross into the 21st century – musically and artistically.

Meiling Wu’s Ebb and Flow sounded to me like a “Jurassic Park” soundtrack: exciting, noisy, sometimes scary, always suspenseful, and a tad too long. Mamlok’s Haiku Settings (arranged from the original soprano and alto flute version) is a group of short musical sketches which act as dialogue pieces between two or three instruments. Highly dissonant and eerily atmospheric, the set showcased Ms. DeBella’s and Ms. Pressley’s great versatility in switching between different instruments.

Luis McDougal’s I acknowledge no master is meant to be a musical commentary on some of the questions asked by philosopher Peter Abelard in his work Sic et non. I confess I failed to see how Mr. McDougal’s musical choices illustrate or offer any deeper understanding of these existential questions, in spite of the usual prowess and enthusiasm displayed by the players, who once again showed the highest level of communication and artistic communion between them. I found the composer’s language all too similar with Wu’s Ebb and Flow, and I wonder if that is a result of the writing or perhaps an interpretive choice on the part of the performers?

The last piece on the program was To Build a Fire by Sam Friedman (yes, the same Sam Friedman who is the trumpet player of the group!). House lights were dimmed, an electric light bulb was placed between the three performers who gathered and sat “around the fire,” several light strobe effects were used and a pre-recorded tape of voices and electronic sounds accompanied the experience. Mr. Friedman took a very literal approach to the title, but also a highly original one for a concert stage. Yes, it did sound more like a chilling horror movie soundtrack than a piece of music and I’m not sure I would want to listen to it again, but I certainly felt that we are exploring new territory and that the creative power of this young group of artists is intoxicating (for better or worse). 

As I was leaving the concert hall, I felt puzzled by the effect the Dice Trio had on me: on one hand, I still sense a certain predilection (not uncommon among my younger colleagues) to find exceptionally clever ways to say nothing much; I genuinely question whether anyone would like to re-visit a piece such as To Build a Fire a second or third time (perhaps listening to a recording might still prove interesting, even after several plays). And yet, how could I not give in to their youthful enthusiasm, and how can I not respect and admire their courage to depart from the established norms, and to break free from the many constraints placed for centuries on the shoulders of “classical” music?…

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Balázs Fülei, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 9, 2024

Before taking the stage last night in front of a packed Weill Hall, pianist Balázs Fülei was introduced – by a former college mate – as “one of the nicest people in the world.” After listening to this recital, I tend to agree with that statement, although I’m not sure that is indeed the compliment it was meant to be…

Mr. Fülei is a more than capable pianist, with an impressive resume, but to my ears he sounded a bit too “civilized.” As long as the music asked for straightforward storytelling and for conquering treacherous passages (such as in the extensive Liszt transcription in the second half of the program), this pianist provided a solid account. However, when things got rougher, musically speaking – such as in the Beethoven and Chopin pieces – Mr. Fülei was somewhat less convincing.

In a charming intro to the evening, Mr. Fülei explained that he sees this program as made of questions (the first half, which included Chopin’s Fourth Ballade and Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 23 in F Minor, Op. 57, Appassionata), followed by the voice of conviction (the second half, with works by Bartók, Liszt and Kodály). Personally, I felt that his choices were more along the lines of “homage to the Gods” (first half) and “homage to my home country” (second half). Still, if we are to play along with the pianist’s own description, I dare say that he is more apt at providing answers than asking the big questions…

Chopin’s Fourth Ballade is an over-played but elusive masterpiece; it is equal parts of ancient legend and searing drama. In a really outstanding rendition, the pianist needs to master the intricate texture (highly chromatic and often quite dense) and rise above the complexities of the score, making it sound fresh and almost improvisational. Even from the very first bars, Mr. Fülei seemed earthbound, employing a tad too much rubato and a slowish, deliberate pace which dragged things down instead of lifting them up. The main theme sounded more declamatory than intimate and flowing. He did, however, produce some very nice colors along the way. He also tended to “slap” some of the higher notes in the melody, instead of allowing them to sing. Perhaps because the beginning of the piece felt too “real,” the big climax at the end did not have the necessary impact.

Beethoven’s Appassionata is another warhorse of the piano repertoire, and one with considerable challenges even for the most accomplished performers. In the first movement, one of the most difficult tasks is to keep a relentless pulse – like a heartbeat – throughout the movement and yet make it sound completely free and organic. The three-note motif (on which the entire musical discourse is built) feels almost like a Hamletian Dilemma and it is shrouded in mystery and philosophical undertones. Here we arrive again at the point of “questions” – this being a really big one! – and I felt that Mr. Fülei only scratched the surface of what Beethoven attempted to convey. I also wished for more unity of tempo, instead of offering a slightly different pace for every new passage. The second movement was generally played too loudly, almost in a continuous mezzo-forte, in a terre-à-terre fashion not aligned with the spiritual content of the piece. The stormy finale was generally technically mastered but in my opinion lacked the cumulative effect of an impending wave which sweeps everything in its way. 

In the second half of the recital, Mr. Fülei provided more information about each piece he performed, and he did so with his usual grace and humor. He began with a set of Romanian Christmas Songs, arranged by Béla Bartók. These traditional Romanian Christmas carols, called Colinde, have an ancestral resonance to them, full of mystical touches. There is nostalgia and a feeling of loss and longing (the word “dor” – almost impossible to translate, though close in meaning to “longing” – comes to mind). Yes, there are perky rhythms, which Mr. Fülei attacked with bravura, but the melody – and there is always a melody – needs to shine through and sing (interestingly, in the Romanian language you “sing” an instrument, you don’t play it!). 

Next came the most intriguing and, for me, the best performed piece of the evening. Liszt’s Christus Oratorium (originally written for orchestra) is not a piece I am familiar with. Based on Liszt’s own piano transcription, of which we’ve heard two movements last night, I’m not sure I want to know it better. The music is repetitive, occasionally bombastic, and mostly uninspired. And yet, this is where Mr. Fülei’s gifts truly came to life: telling a story, letting the music breathe, building phrases to reach climaxes. He drew orchestral sounds from the instrument and, in spite of the lackluster quality of the music, he captured my attention for almost half an hour! He found humor in the story of the shepherds by the manger and created a dreamlike atmosphere as the three holy kings bestowed their gifts upon the newborn child. He played with commitment and made a strong case for a work which I’m not sure deserves it – but that is one of the highest achievements a performer can reach.

The last piece on the program, Kodály’s Dances  of Marosszék, was a fitting finale to the recital. This is a great work, again inspired by Romanian folk, and Mr. Fülei played it with spirit and gusto! I would have liked to feel more of a common thread running through the different sections, and perhaps the pedaling was over-generous at times, but it was a joy to listen to the imitation of several folk instruments and bask in the excitement that Balázs Fülei shared with us!

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Louis Pelosi, composer

Sharon Chang, piano; Dominika Gacka, piano; Mateusz Borowiak, piano

Merkin Hall at Kaufman Center, New York, NY

October 20, 2024

On Sunday evening, Louis Pelosi presented the world premieres of four of his piano works, with works by Chopin and Szymanowski completing the program. The audience at Merkin Hall was alarmingly sparse, in spite of the presence of three gifted musicians on stage, who performed the works of a prolific living composer. Alarming perhaps, but hardly surprising; this was only yet another proof that living composers (with a few notable exceptions) struggle to get their music performed and embraced by even the most seasoned and experienced concert goers. It came as no surprise to read – in the program notes – that Mr. Pelosi, who has earned his livelihood as a self-employed piano technician, has been self-initiating and self-funding his own showcases throughout the years. No pretense here, just a frank statement about the status quo: new music is a hard sell, and composers are lucky to find performers who are willing to invest their time and energy in bringing new pieces to life, as well as an audience who has the interest to buy tickets… I suppose Mr. Pelosi can count himself among the lucky ones, though – based on last night’s performance – with different degrees of success.

The concert was dedicated to the late Joe Patrych, a well-known and much-loved producer and recording engineer, who died suddenly at the end of 2023 and is very much missed by his (many) friends. The repertoire was exclusively for piano solo, and it was performed by Sharon Chang, Dominika Gacka and Mateusz Borowiak. Mr. Pelosi offered two sets of miniatures (twelve each), a short piano duet titled Six Tonal Studies and, as the big finale, the Piano Sonata No. 9. His music is filled with chromatic intricacies, occasionally borrowing from old techniques such as Baroque polyphony and canonic imitation, without a key signature but often revolving around a “central” key, which is usually marked in the score at the beginning of each piece (more as a stabilizing reference point than an actual tonal or harmonic adherence). The composer doesn’t shy away from contrasts, which he often employs in effective and surprising ways be it in the form of dynamics, meter, or use of registers. The texture can get busy, but there is a certain clarity of purpose which breaks through the more complicated passages. Every now and then, I detected some Eastern European influences (more than once I recalled Bartók) but perhaps some of this was reflecting my own heritage. 

In the first piece on the program, pianist Sharon Chang seemed very careful to convey every indication found in the music score. Unfortunately, she also overused the pedal, which led to some lack of clarity and a more opaque color palette than this music deserves. Some of the melodic lines got drowned and I wished for more suppleness in some of the miniatures; instead, what should have been flying high was a bit earth-bound. The music seemed to offer more opportunities for nuance than the performer conveyed. 

In a most puzzling manner, Ms. Chang followed the Pelosi piece with a rendition of Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantaisie,Op. 61. I am totally unable to decipher the reason for this pairing, other than the pianist’s love for this particular Chopin opus. (A set of Bach three-part Inventions would have been, in my opinion, a much more logical and intriguing choice; even one of Ravel’s piano suites would have provided a more fitting musical partnership.) Sadly, she seemed to fight laboriously to get to the heart of this rather elusive masterpiece, which is a truly visionary work. While she has undeniable good fingers, Ms. Chang’s body language suggested that she was overwhelmed by Chopin’s challenges rather than rising above them.

The first half of the program concluded with Mr. Pelosi’s Twelve Vignettes, which I confess was my favorite among his compositions on this program. There is a lot of charm in these short splashes of color, and occasionally a pang of depth, such as in the surprising and moving No. 5 (For Dolores), which Ms. Chang performed beautifully.

After the intermission, we were treated to an excellent performance of Szymanowski’s superb suite Three Masques, Op. 34. The pianist, Mateusz Borowiak, clearly feels at home in this powerful and intricate piece, which made for a much better program companion to the Pelosi pieces than the Chopin of the first half. Mr. Borowiak impressed me with his knife-sharp tone, well-delineated levels, and seemingly endless variety of articulation. He played with energy and bravura, maybe lacking a bit in the soft dynamics range; especially in the first movement, Schéhérazade, I felt the need for more mystique. Sometimes he rushed and sacrificed humor to authority.

After the Szymanowski, Mr. Borowiak was joined by Dominika Gacka for a four-hand duet by Mr. Pelosi – the Six Tonal Studies. This was a wonderful, organic collaboration between two gifted young artists, who both connected with the music they were performing. The compositional format of these pieces was (for each one) an intriguing aller-retour between two keys, an idea I found original and beautifully realized.

The evening came to a close with Mateusz Borowiak’s rendition of the challenging Piano Sonata No. 9 by Louis Pelosi. Again, he performed with authority and precision, though I can’t help thinking that the piece requires perhaps more reflection on the part of the performer. There are moments of truly special writing (especially in the second and the last movements) through which the pianist seemed to sail rather than enjoy. The second movement’s Lento became almost Andantino, losing some of the magic with which Mr. Pelosi imbued the score. I felt that this music needs (and deserves) a more intimate, fragile quality. In the Finale, I could have used more difference between contrasting dynamics. However, the overall effect was powerful, convincing the listener that both the performer and the composer have something meaningful and urgent to communicate. 

I walked out of the concert hall wishing that Mr. Pelosi, and other composers of his caliber, would not need to always self-initiate opportunities for their work to be noticed and admired.

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Scandinavia House, New York, NY

October 17, 2024

On the same night when many music lovers flocked to Carnegie Hall for Daniil Trifonov’s latest recital, a smaller but very enthusiastic group filled up (quite literally) the Victor Borge concert hall at the Scandinavia House, for the piano recital of Daniel Gortler. Mr. Gortler, an Israeli-American pianist with an impressive résumé, used this evening as a launching event for his latest recording – a selection of twenty-one Lyric Pieces by Edvard Grieg (of which he only performed twelve at this event). Based on what I’ve heard, I am tempted to purchase the CD and enjoy more of this pianist’s refined playing.

As we were informed in the program, the instrument on which Mr. Gortler performed belonged initially to Victor Borge, and is on loan to the Scandinavia House through the generosity of Borge’s grandson. Perhaps as a nod to the irreverent former owner, Mr. Gortler appeared wearing zipper-pocket pants and white sneakers. I’m not entirely convinced that his outfit complemented the beautifully curated program, and I feel that a fashion statement such as this  would have seemed more natural on a budding young artist, rather than a seasoned musician. 

The program included Schumann’s Kinderszenen, followed by selections from Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words and, as the centerpiece of the evening, Grieg’s Lyric Pieces. This is what I would call a “Maestro’s program,” one which evokes the last recitals of Horowitz and Rubinstein, favoring deceivingly “easier” pieces over the big war-horses of the piano repertoire. Of course, such a selection is in fact one of the most demanding an artist can put forward, and requires a tremendous amount of depth and an almost magical ability to enthrall and hypnotize an audience. I cannot say that Daniel Gortler has reached yet that level of artistry, but throughout the evening, there were glimpses of a great talent, and of a genuine musician of the kind we sometimes label as “the real thing.”

The Schumann cycle was, in my opinion, the least successful of the evening. In a truly outstanding rendition, these pieces possess a delicate wonderment with which a young child looks at the world; somewhat paradoxically, it is usually the older and very wise performers who are able to capture such purity and simplicity. Mr. Gortler has a beautiful and warm tone, but he tends to complicate the phrasing with a (too) generous use of rubato and a dubious appetite for “discovering” new inner voices which sometimes take over the main melodic line (particularly bothersome in Blind Man’s Bluff and Pleading Child). In the first, iconic movement, Of Foreign Lands and Peoples, the accompaniment occasionally drowned the melody and the result was fussy and lacking simplicity. The bombastic arm movements made An Important Event perhaps a tad too important. Still, the pianist found beautiful colors in Dreaming and Child Falling Asleep. Some of the crescendos grew too abruptly and led to banging, such as in Knight of the Hobby-Horse. The last piece, the almost metaphysical The Poet Speaks, presented some interesting colors but failed to raise above notes, phrases, and dynamics.

With the selection of twelve Songs Without Words, Mr. Gortler seemed to warm up, both technically and musically. His wonderful articulation was evident in several of the pieces and it was clear that he connects on an emotional level with these works. In the Venetian Gondola Song he pulled us into a magical world of sound and imagery and Op. 85, No.3, was imbued with genuine urgency and a winged feeling! In the Duetto Op. 38,No.6, Mr. Gortler found just the right individuality for each partner of the conversation. With the fiery Op. 62, No.2, the pianist reached a passionate finale which, in spite of some inaccuracies, was beautifully voiced and gracefully soaring.

Although Daniel Gortler has recorded all the pieces presented on this program, at some point or another, it was clear that the Lyric Pieces by Grieg were the freshest and sharpest in his fingers. I found his interpretations refreshingly spontaneous, unaffected, and beautifully poetic. In Arietta we were treated to the touch of a true master, and the famous March of the Dwarfs revealed an intoxicating sense of humor and excellent dramaturgical sense. In the beautiful Melody Op. 47, No.3,  the pianist found some of the simplicity and magic that eluded him in the Schumann cycle. In Butterflies he created a compelling visual, basking in light and shadow. Mr. Gortler was at his very best in At the Cradle, where he found a tenderness and warmth that are seldomly heard in live performances; he worked with a wide palette of colors and conjured quite a bit of magic. I was very impressed by his sensitivity to harmonic changes, as displayed in Solitary Traveller, and – although marred by some imperfections – he truly made the Brooklet come alive in a vivid tableau. With Summer’s Eve, Mr. Gortler evoked an almost olfactory experience, reminiscent of some of Debussy’s Preludes. Puck was suitably playful, and the final piece on the program, Notturno Op. 54, No.4, was a fitting finale to an evening of sound poetry (the short Schumann encore not withstanding).

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY