Jihye Chung, Piano; Guest Artist: Jihoon Chung, Violin

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 7, 2024

Korean-born pianist Jihye Chung gave her New York debut recital at Zankel Hall (at Carnegie Hall) this Saturday and showed that she is a musician with much to offer. In a program made up of Sonatas by Scarlatti and Mozart, two Chopin Ballades(Nos. 1 and 3), and Grieg’s Piano Sonata, Op. 7, she also included a duo, Schubert’s Violin Sonata in D Major, D. 384, played with her violinist brother Jihoon Chung.

Ms. Chung’s biographical notes mentioned that this year has included – along with this New York debut – a concert at the Seoul Arts Center, and one assumes there will be many to follow. Her studies and performances have taken her from South Korea to Germany. In Germany, where she lived for thirteen years, she studied at the Hochschule für Musik und Theater München with Franz Massinger, Prof. Yuka Imamine, and Prof. Gitti Pirner (earning a diploma, a master’s degree, and a Weiterbildendes Zertifikatsstudium Meisterklasse) and later at the Hochschule for Musik Carl Maria von Weber in Dresden, with teacher Yevgeny Feldmann. These studies seem to have had a strong impact on her, as she plays with great dedication to detail, bringing focus to her natural musical spirit.

Ms. Chung walked onstage clad in black and with great purposefulness. From the very first notes of her set of Scarlatti Sonatas, she held her audience rapt, including this reviewer, who knows these works intimately. Every phrase had clearly been considered thoroughly, shaped artistically, and delivered with persuasive commitment and assuredness. The first Sonata (D major, K. 96) was exceptional for its delicate rapid repeated notes (to be heard again later in the D minor Sonata, K. 141, often referred to as Toccata), but most importantly Ms. Chung projected its ebullience, savoring the dissonances of its Iberian influences and the playful (but tricky) hand-crossings. The slower A major Sonata(K. 322) was a gem in Ms. Chung’s hands as well. It had a purity of expression and clarity of phrase that captivated her listener. If one says that there was nothing exaggerated or demonstrative – true – it should also be stressed that there was also never a dry or dull moment. There was no note without life or direction. The ever-popular C major Sonata (K. 159) followed with crispness and energy, and the set of four ended brilliantly with the Toccata.

Mozart’s Sonata in B-Flat major, K. 570, followed with similar excellence. Her performance got to the heart of the piece, spotlighting each compositional “event” with care. The first movement stood out for its colorful exchange of voices and that operatic quality that helps bring Mozart’s piano music to life. The second movement enjoyed carefully varied (but never fussy) articulation, and it felt like chamber music throughout, from its horn-like opening onward. Occasionally, one wanted a touch more breathing space, but here it seemed the pianist was focused on keeping the pace, as she also did in the last movement. Though this reviewer prefers the sixteenth-note runs in this Allegretto to have a more “granular” quality, they flowed forward like liquid – at any rate, the piece concluded in high spirits, with its closing measures conveying Mozart’s characteristic mischief.

For the last work before intermission, Ms. Chung was joined by her brother, skilled violinist Jihoon Chung, in Schubert’s Violin Sonata in D major, D. 384 (composed in 1816 when the composer was just nineteen years old). Schubert is often described as having one foot in the Classical Viennese style of Haydn and Mozart (with hints of Beethoven’s influence naturally), while the other foot moved towards the Romantic spirit of later composers. There is consequently a question of which way interpreters will lean, particularly when there are two or more players. It seemed in this duo’s interpretation that the pianist leaned more towards the pristine classical restraint we had enjoyed in the Mozart Sonata, while the violinist looked ahead to the world of later Romantic violin concerti in matters of tone, vibrato, and phrasing. Not to set up false dichotomies – as there can be huge overlap in expressiveness even across many centuries – but one imagines that there will be more of a meeting of minds with more performances together.

After intermission (and a colorful change of wardrobe), we heard two Chopin Ballades, No. 1 in G minor and No. 3 in A-Flat major. Again, the question of style arose, as there seemed a Beethovenian deliberateness that did not quite serve these creations. From the opening of the G minor Ballade, which was suitably ponderous, there was an increase in weightiness that kept the piece earthbound, even where Chopin starts to soar in reverie. Where it seemed that Ms. Chung decided to  “take flight,” it appeared that her hands did not always agree, as they tended to gloss over some passages a bit uncomfortably. The end had one of the slowest starts to the octave accelerando in memory – undoubtedly a heartfelt decision, yet somehow skewing the piece’s proportions. Similarly, the A-flat Ballade felt a bit slow in spots (even for this reviewer, who often prefers slower tempi). Perhaps fatigue was setting in, as there was also a rather stubborn memory glitch around the grandioso towards the end. At any rate, one seldom likes everything in a concert, and the Scarlatti and Mozart had already been more than worth the trip – but there was more.

Grieg’s Piano Sonata Op. 7, concluded the program, emerging as a much better match for this pianist’s stylistic sense and technique. It gave the evening just the right lyricism in the Andante movement and closed with a perfect bravura splash. Hearty applause elicited an encore, and both sister and brother returned to the stage to do it, with no announcement of what it would be. As many may have recognized, it was the famous Csárdás by Vittorio Monti. The sibling duo seemed to have lots of fun with it. One hopes that they will return together, though perhaps with some reimagining. For one thing, this listener kept thinking that Weill Hall (at Carnegie also) would have been a smarter choice as a venue, not only for its size but also for its acoustics, better suited to some of the earlier repertoire. In any case, they should look forward to much music ahead!

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor 

Penelope Shumate, Soprano; Holly Sorensen, Mezzo-Soprano;

Chad Kranak, Tenor; Christopher Job, Bass-Baritone;

Violetta Zabbi, Portative organ;

Distinguished Concerts Singers International;

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra;

Isaac Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 1, 2024

Hearing Handel’s Messiah performed well has long been among the most life-affirming experiences in classical music. It has consistently drawn crowds far exceeding the noteworthy 700 who attended its premiere in Dublin in 1742, and since at least 2011, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) has given it some of New York’s most outstanding performances. This past Sunday’s performance at Carnegie Hall was no exception.

First, for the uninitiated who read this review’s headline and think, “Wait – shouldn’t that read Handel’s Messiah?” – Yes. It is indeed by Handel, but since Mozart revised the orchestration in 1789, it is sometimes called Mozart’s Messiah to distinguish it from the sparer original and later more extravagant versions. As the oratorio soon after its premiere was in demand throughout Europe, various copies were circulating, both in the original English text that Charles Jennens used (from King James Bible verses) and in translations to other languages. By the time Mozart obtained a copy in 1789, in a German version by Daniel Ebeling, it was ready for a musical “update” in keeping with the changing orchestras of the day and with Mozart’s sense of balance. Pairs of flutes, clarinets, oboes, horns, and bassoons were added in a version that has since been widely embraced. Other re-orchestrations followed, including a much larger-scale one made by Eugene Goossens in the twentieth century (which DCINY played as well and recorded), but on this occasion DCINY opted for the more traditional Mozart – sung, however, in English.

This reviewer has heard (and reviewed) DCINY’s now annual Messiah at least three times, both in the Mozart version and the Goossens. Either way, it seems that DCINY has perfected its “recipe” for the piece, and, assuming they are planning to continue it through 2042 (the 300th anniversary of the piece), it may by then be called “DCINY’s Messiah.”

So, what exactly is the DCINY recipe? Well, they start with a core quartet of star singers. Four DCINY “regulars” returned as soloists, soprano Penelope Shumate,  mezzo-soprano Holly Sorenson, tenor Chad Kranak, and bass-baritone Christopher Job – exactly the same as in 2023. (Why tamper with what works?)

From the very first words of the entire oratorio, “Comfort ye my people,” sung by Mr. Kranak, we felt that comfort to which the text refers, ensured by a glorious tenor instrument that never wavered. His melismas in “Ev’ry valley shall be exalted” were as captivating as one remembered from 2023.

Bass-baritone Christopher Job delivered the recitative “Thus saith the Lord” seemingly effortlessly and with refreshingly precise diction. The lines of “But who may abide the day of his coming” extended for miles with similarly seamless ease. His other contributions were excellent as well.

The ever-radiant mezzo-soprano Holly Sorensen sang her first momentous notes with “Behold, a virgin shall conceive,” and from there her voice continued to bloom. Though she was often tasked with singing in a range overlapping with the orchestra’s (including the Mozart wind additions), her voice was rarely lost in the texture, and her phrasing was artfully shaped.

Soprano Penelope Shumate, vibrant as ever, offered perfectly brilliant recitativo introductions to set up the choral “Glory to God.” She simply soared in “He shall feed his flock” as well. One couldn’t help appreciating that, with her energy following through to the last second of each phrase, not a moment or a word-ending was lost.

As for the oratorio’s strictly orchestral movements, the Sinfonia (Overture) and Pifa (Pastoral Symphony), they were as reliable as ever, with concertmaster Jorge Ávila offering exceptionally strong leadership. DCINY has a regular core orchestra with, one assumes, some additions as needed, but as we talk about formulas for success, such long-standing members are not to be underestimated.

Last of all, in the DCINY “recipe,” is the combining of choruses from all over the world to join forces. DCINY finds the perfect blend of professional, semi-professional, and amateur singers, so that, along with the skill required to navigate some demanding music, comes the energy of those who find performing at Carnegie Hall to be a thrilling adventure. The air is always alive with excitement, and this time was no exception, with the parquet and first balcony completely filled (undoubtedly partly by some friends and relatives of performers) as well-trained choruses from far and wide filed onstage to become a single mega-chorus. The participating choruses included the American International School Of Vienna High School Choir (Austria), Arts For Manitoba Indigenous Youth Choir (Canada), The Alabama Civic Chorale (AL), Baha’i Choir (IL), Chorale 77 (PA), Franklin Civic Operetta Association Festival Choir (PA), Illiana Oratorio Society (IL), Madisonville Community Chorus (KY), Mendelssohn Choir Of Connecticut (CT), Nebo Holiday Chorus & Orchestra (UT), St. Paul’s Episcopal Church Choir (NC), Trinity Episcopal Church Choir, Everett (WA), Trinity Episcopal Church Choir, and St. Mary’s City (MD) – in addition to individual singers from around the world.

From the first full choral entry of “And the Glory of the Lord,” the enormous combined choruses were in top form. It was not possible to count them, but they spilled over from the several risers spanning the wide Perelman stage and onto the orchestral area just behind the violins. This sound was possibly even better and stronger than one recalls from previous years. One of the only sketchy moments in the combined choruses arose in the “And He shall purify” movement, where the penchant in various voices to slow down (to articulate each sixteenth note) sometimes threatened the unity of the twisty imitative lines. Maestro Griffith, as ever, held the reins, leading the masses quickly and solidly onward, and the result was stirring. “For unto us a child is born” was simply, as the choral exclamations state, “Wonderful!”

It was a slight surprise that the “Hallelujah” chorus did not conclude the concert, as it would have been ending “on a high” – instead, it was followed by the “Worthy is the Lamb that was Slain” chorus and the final “Amen.” These were played commendably, but this listener would still have opted for the “Hallelujah” close. In any case, congratulations are due to all involved. DCINY’s Messiah seems to mark – along with the lighting of the Rockefeller Center tree – the official start to the New York holiday season!

Gregorio Benítez, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 22, 2024

Spanish-born pianist Gregorio Benítez gave what one could only call a miraculous recital this week, turning Weill Hall at Carnegie into a virtual aviary with seven selections from Olivier Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux (Catalogue of Birds). Mr. Benítez (completely unknown to this reviewer until now) came to New York as part of a world tour dedicated to the complete solo piano works of Messiaen. Anyone who has played from this Messiaen set knows the challenges – the thorny dissonances, complex chords, techniques from total serialism, quixotic rhythms in unmetered measures, and highly precise markings (for articulations, dynamics, and pedaling) – all requiring “translation” through drama and color to an audience without the added stimulus of Messiaen’s evocative scores (interspersed with descriptions of French landscapes). To do just one or two well is admirable, but Mr. Benítez did an entire program of them – and superbly. Straining credulity, he did it as part of a world tour traversal of Messiaen’s complete piano solo works (thus adding the rest of the Oiseaux, the other great cycle, Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus, the Préludes, the Études, and a few shorter works).

Adding to one’s amazement, it appeared that Mr. Benítez played from memory – with no book, tablet, pedal-turner, or anything else visible (unless there was some secret “smart” device in his eyeglasses, in which case this reviewer wants a pair). Lest anyone think that the usual concert mishaps would be easily disguised in Messiaen’s musical bird calls  – with sometimes two iterations, sometimes seven or twelve with tiny variations each time –  there was no “fudging” whatsoever, as your reviewer had access to a score throughout and can attest to the fact that hardly a millisecond was criticizable. The performance could have gone practically straight to release, to be added to the small list of great Messiaen cycle recordings (with those of Yvonne Loriod, Messiaen’s second wife, at the top of the list).

As many performers of pre-twentieth-century repertoire will agree, audiences are often unduly impressed with memorization feats, frequently asking questions such as, “How do you remember all those notes?” We are left wanting to assure them that we are not remembering isolated “notes” but a whole conception made of phrases, progressions, and structures – as with an actor living a role rather than logging thousands of words. That is the case with earlier or more conventional repertoire, but seldom does one see a scoreless pianist inhabiting the newer sonic worlds of this Messiaen set (1959) as Mr. Benítez did. He simply became the lark, the thrush, and the curlew – while coloring the scenery around them.

Catalogue d’Oiseaux includes thirteen pieces (spanning seven cahiers or notebooks), with each piece named after a single bird associated with a French region and each titular birdsong accompanied – or often interrupted and replaced – by songs of other birds from the same habitat. These songs alternate with music in which Messiaen intended to evoke their surroundings – the word “intended” used here only because the composer’s chromesthesia is not always transferrable to the listener. Mr. Benítez brought it about as close as one might imagine.

From the very first notes of the concert in Le Traquet Stapazin (The Western Black-eared Wheatear), Mr. Benítez exuded confidence as he led us on a tour of the sunny Côte Vermeille, dotting the soundscape with cries of silvery delicacy, insistent (and at times comical) squawks, and the occasional brusque avian scolding. Balletic pianistic gestures seemed designed not for show but to feel the character of each moment – as well as ensuring perfect timing from one scene to the next as if shifting the camera lens. Whether or not these movements were conscious, they actually enhanced the experience.

After a short pause, with no applause from the spellbound audience, came L’alouette calandrelle (The Short-toed Lark). One of the most touching of the whole set, its two opening chords recur amongst the bird calls to evoke the arid solitude of the Crau plain. In the opening chord, this reviewer had one of the few reservations of the entire evening, which was the desire for more of the B-sharp against the C-sharp, together creating the sting of loneliness and the memory of that each time it recurs. Overall, though, Mr. Benítez captured the atmosphere beautifully. The skylarks were well-served by the glassy upper register of the piano, and the sounds of quails, cicadas, and a kestrel all combined by contrast to underscore the desolation.

L’alouette lulu (The Woodlark) opened as a dreamy nocturne, its chant-like bass representing the night against the growing songs from the woodlark and nightingale. Le loriot (The Golden Oriole) closed the first half with one of the widest arrays of birdcalls and personalities (including one that was most comically noted by Messiaen as “autoritaire” or authoritarian) – all amid sunlit gardens and woods. Mr. Benítez projected it all vividly, from the moody opening through the long stretches of tangled cacophony, with drama and dazzling fingerwork. Memorable moments included the grive musicienne (song thrush) in what emerged as a moment of avian jazz. Striking also was the matter-of-factness of some of the bird calls, unromanticized. As Messiaen wrote, “My music is not ‘nice;’ it is certain.” These are not the birds of Keats and Shelley – or even of Henselt or Ravel – but creatures possessing a wild and limitless range of colors and energies.

One sometimes feels about this set that Messiaen’s poetic descriptions preceding each score ought to be included in the program, as they fill in blanks about the landscapes and birds where the gap from even a great pianist to his listener may not be bridged. It may also be relevant that Messiaen’s father was a literature professor and his mother the poet Cecile Sauvage, so it was natural to verbalize images that might be hard to transmit through music alone (as, for example, the oriole’s call, which for him was “like the laughter of a foreign prince” evoking “Africa and Asia or some unknown planet, full of light and rainbows and smiles of Leonardo De Vinci”).

The second half of the program was devoted to three Oiseaux, from Le merle de roche (the Rock Thrush), proceeding to Le courlis cendré  (The Curlew), and Le traquet rieur (The Black Wheatear). More of the magic described in the first half was found here, though with more foreboding spirit and some increasingly big sounds as demanded by the composer (at times verging on excessive harshness for this listener who had to cover her ears). A high point was Le courlis cendré – a tour de force in this pianist’s hands.

In summary, whether or not one embraces the piano music of Messiaen, Gregorio Benítez offers perhaps the best chance today to hear his piano music live, at least based on this hearing of seven of the Oiseaux. This listener went from the usual yawn upon reading the glowing words in the pianist’s biography before the concert (“yes, critics say he is ‘hypnotic’ and ‘extraordinary’ – that’s what lots of press releases say”) to thinking such words are inadequate.

Mr. Benítez has performed in the United States, Japan, Germany, Austria, the United Kingdom, France, and Portugal. His recorded works have been featured on MDR KLASSIK, King Classic Radio, NHK, TVE, Radio Clásica, Catalunya Música, Canal Sur, and Cuatro TV. Additionally, he has performed as a soloist with orchestras such as the MDR Sinfonieorchester, the Orquesta Sinfónica de RTVE, the Joven Orquesta de la Comunidad de Madrid, the Ensemble de Música Contemporánea RCSMM, the Osaka Sinfonietta, the Modern Orchestra of Beijing, and the Columbia Contemporary Music Group. He holds a Ph.D. in Music from the Universitat Politècnica de Valencia and has been a contributor to “Melómano” magazine since 2015.

His studies have taken him to the Royal Academy of Music in London and the Hochschule für Musik und Theater in Leipzig, and his teachers have included his father, Dr. Auxiliadora Gil, Prof. Julián López Gimeno, Josep Colom, and Prof. Markus Tomas, in addition to lessons from pianists such as Alicia de Larrocha, Leon Fleisher, Emanuel Ax, Menahem Pressler, and fortepianists Robert Levin, Malcolm Bilson, and Paul Badura-Skoda.

Beyond all his credentials, Gregorio Benítez is simply an amazing artist whose Messiaen interpretations will make a mark. He deserved a much larger crowd at Weill Hall, and one wondered where were, say, all the composition students or pianists from the various New York conservatories (as this concert was the equivalent of a few dozen lessons). In any case, for those wishing to track him down, the other venues listed on this tour include Severance Hall in Cleveland, Place des Arts in Montreal, the Musikverein in Vienna, the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, the Konzerthaus Berlin, the Mozarteum in Salzburg, the Palau de la Música in Barcelona, the Rudolfinum in Prague, the Hong Kong City Hall, and the Oriental Arts Centre in Shanghai.

Teodora Brody, vocalist; Stanley Jordan, guitarist and pianist

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 8, 2024

There is something odd in writing music criticism about musical performers as natural and spontaneous as vocalist Teodora Brody and guitarist-pianist Stanley Jordan. It is rather like reviewing a forest or an ocean. Where does one start – and why? The best that one can do is to urge music lovers to hear them in live concert – rather, experience them – as a large crowd did at Carnegie’s Zankel Hall last Friday. As individual artists, Ms. Brody and Mr. Jordan have reached the heights in their fields, but to evaluate what they did together in this latest program by any established standards would be a mistake. They were doing something rare and original, a musical exploration à deux that was raw, real, and completely of the moment.

Some background on the two is in order. Guitar virtuoso Stanley Jordan has drawn the world’s attention (including this mostly classical musician’s) for decades. His visionary musicality – along with his piano background – led to his probing of touch techniques (including “hammer-on” and “pull-off” techniques using just one hand) to achieve ever greater textures and expressivity, even playing two guitars (or guitar and piano) simultaneously. (The reader can hear his version of “Stairway to Heaven” as one example: Stairway to Heaven- Stanley Jordan.) His music (whether pop-rock, innovative jazz, or classical reimaginings) has taken him to Kool Jazz, Concord Jazz, and Montreux Jazz festivals, as well as earning him four Grammy nominations. The long list of famous musicians he has played with is impressive, including Dizzy Gillespie, Kenny Rogers, Les Paul, and others. Notable among these luminaries was the great Quincy Jones, whose death the world mourns this month and with whom Mr. Jordan played in 1976 while still in high school. To round out the picture, Mr. Stanley’s scholarly credentials include a Bachelor of Arts from Princeton, where he studied theory and composition with Milton Babbit. His impulse for outreach has him now working towards a master’s degree in music therapy at Arizona State University, along with being a lecturing artist and spokesperson in that field. He seems to have no limits.

Crossover artist Teodora Brody, acclaimed vocalist in her native Romania and internationally, has similarly impressive credentials, particularly for her fusion of jazz with Doina, the improvisatory folk tradition of Romania. She has been the recipient of important honors from Romania and the US and has performed at the Montreux, Marciac, and Lugano festivals, among others, as well as at the US Library of Congress, the Corcoran Gallery of Art, New York’s Iridium, and the Kennedy Center. In two weeks, she will perform with the London Symphony Orchestra, with whom she recorded a CD entitled Rhapsody in 2023. She has performed with Johnny Răducanu, Les Paul, and many other well-known artists, and often throughout Europe with Stanley Jordan, who calls the experience of playing with her as “indescribable and unpredictable magic.” Indescribable is what her voice itself is as well, but we are tasked with detailing what we heard, so let’s start with a pitch range of four octaves (bringing to mind the legendary Yma Sumac), matched by the widest imaginable spectrum of timbres and colors, from whispers, moans, and wails to sustained piercing heights, all combining into a limitless palette in service to a fearless spirit.

There was no actual program given out at this concert (just a booklet with biographies and the like), as we were informed that the duo would perform without programs, scores, or even rehearsal. For this concert – fittingly called “Impromptu” – the goal was to create a “wild journey,” as Ms. Brody announced from the stage, connecting to one’s inner self and exploring (as the printed notes state) “how suffering can be transformed into wisdom through the beauty within us all.” Though many classical and jazz musicians also profess to follow the inner self and play all or partially without a score, this particular collaboration took spontaneity to new levels. Aside from a handful of nods to notated music towards the end of this concert, the evening was about an hour and a half (with no intermission) of completely spontaneous music-making, never to be repeated, with almost no songs or composers for a reviewer to cite. With only what one imagines may have been some safety net from past collaborations, the duo launched, with the audience, into the unknown.

The unknown can be unsettling, but in a way that mirrors life. As there were no breaks for talking or applause for roughly the first forty-five minutes of the concert, one was never certain what lay ahead, or for how long – or even how the duo was managing synchronized transitions from one mood or harmonic progression into the next with no visible cues (except for what seemed some possible signals via a cylinder bell from Ms. Brody at certain junctures or lulls). There were often no discernible words either, merely syllables, but as the concert was presented by the Associazione Unifying Worlds, it seemed fitting that the chief language was music. One had to do the best one could to understand it all, but we knew we were in good hands.

How does one start a duo performance with no rehearsal or score? The answer is: alone. Ms. Brody began the program with what resembled an incantation centering on a few words about “the play of life and death we see everywhere,” but the eerie and dramatic tone took musical shape chiefly from wordless syllables to follow. Centering often on a single focal pitch around which she wove expanding melodies (seemingly influenced by her Doina singing, with flavors and motives of Middle Eastern music), she clearly followed that “inner self” with what started as basic harmonic support from Mr. Jordan and evolved into a joint exploration. Together, they settled into expanding patterns, rhythms, and flights of imagination, fusing folk with blues and a range of jazz styles.

Ms. Brody moved from slow lyricism, sometimes basic breathing noises, to high-energy scat singing and rhythmic dance, punctuated by intentional plosives that a beatboxer might envy. She built bluesy riffs into fiery peaks with virtuoso support and inspiration from Mr. Jordan. Overall arch shapes were naturally prevalent as the duo could latch onto a long-term climb or descent together in ways that felt organic. The music alternately sighed, rumbled, and exploded, as uninhibited as something one might create alone at home – but few could pull off such a feat so artfully in public, much less at Carnegie Hall.

Among the few reservations, one was that there seemed some overuse of repeated or drone-like basses – understandably as a way to keep the duo’s improvisations anchored, but still occasionally making things a shade monochromatic at times, despite Mr. Jordan’s brilliant and tonally adventurous elaborations above them.

One could imagine narratives or emotions through much of the evening, but there was little guidance. There was a more explicit narrative as Mr. Jordan moved from his seat in the center towards the stage piano for one of the longer creations (around twenty minutes). There, he started his own solo improvisation, playing both a guitar that rested on his lap and the piano, often at the same time, with his right hand generally on the keyboard and his left on the guitar neck. He began a story as he played, telling the legend of a lake, a forest, and a creature living peacefully there until the invasion of it by those less peaceful. As the story developed, his playing evoked that lake through streaming figurations on his two instruments as well as piano glissandi. Mystical effects of a forest were created in the combination of piano and guitar, with Ms. Brody’s voice joining as the drama unfolded. In the end, the music resolved into peace, as the creature taught the invaders about love. The final message was that “the power of love” wins over “the love of power” – though one couldn’t help thinking that, in Mr. Jordan’s music therapy context, such a story could represent any triumph of positive over negative – including in health. Geared towards a more “lay” audience, it was the kind of music that could be vital in outreach efforts. The improvisation as a whole worked well, leaving this listener with just only one main reservation, that the amplification used made Ms. Brody’s voice simply too loud at times, sometimes reaching a painful level. She is a singer who needs very little help!

On the lighter side, the duo included a Romanian drinking song, and they performed it with just the right bacchanalian boisterousness. Ms. Brody encouraged any Romanians in the audience to join in. Some did, also clapping rhythms – after which the audience gave a hearty round of applause.  The duo also included some clever improvisation based on a name suggestion from the audience – in this case, “Monica” – which became the springboard. It was enjoyed by all.

Towards the concert’s end, we heard Al Jarreau’s “Better Than Anything” (1977) moving almost seamlessly into Bernstein and Sondheim’s “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story (1957), a brilliant pairing with their certain motivic kinship. Ms. Brody quipped that they included these to show they could read music, though there was little doubt of that. An encore of Bach’s Air on the G String followed, recast with jazz elaborations by Mr. Jordan and Ms. Brody’s addition of words from Kahlil Gibran’s “On Love” from The Prophet. It was a moving close to an amazing night.

In addition to hearing these performers’ more practiced efforts (many on YouTube), the reader may want to check out Ms. Brody’s recent CD, a recording this reviewer has yet to hear (Teodora Brody- Rhapsody CD).  Given the huge range of this musician, there is absolutely NO guarantee that it resembles anything heard at Carnegie, but that is where the adventure lies!

Chen Liang, pianist

Recorded, edited, and mastered by Zhen Qin and Jiarui Wang

Recorded at Chengdu City Concert Hall Recording Studio, Chengdu, China, December 28 and 29th, 2023

KNS Classical A/160

The label KNS Classical has released a recording of highly skillful Chinese-born pianist Chen Liang that includes two monuments of the piano literature framed by two new works by Chinese composers (including the performer, b. 1991). The CD opens with Chen Liang’s piece entitled Dream (premiered in 2023 at Carnegie Hall), then proceeds to Debussy’s Études, Book I, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, before closing with Impromptu – Dong’s Drumtower (1987) by Chen Liang’s fellow countryman Xianping Zou (b. 1951). Though dominated by the Debussy and Mussorgsky masterworks, this CD may be most memorable for its Chinese works, as they will be first hearings for many, and in what one can safely speculate may be the finest performances available.

Chen Liang’s Dream is a seemingly improvisatory creation of just under four minutes. Starting with solemn motifs centering on rising fourths over ruminative alternating chords, its phrases gradually extend and build to a more streaming, quasi-impressionistic section and tempestuous pianistic peak before receding to the opening material. Dream is a very accessible, evocative piece, bringing to mind some film scores by Joe Hisaishi and Michael Nyman, but with this pianist’s own personal stamp. It is described in his program notes (credited to Chen Liang with Junheng Chen) as “inspired by the composer’s bike expedition through the breathtaking landscapes of Tibet, particularly the dreamlike reflections of Lake Qinghai and Lake Namtso. The three-part structure reflects the three stages of the dream: from peacefulness to excitement, and from chaos back to calmness.”

The piece closes feeling poignantly unfinished, and that is appropriate, as Chen Liang is undoubtedly far from finished in terms of potential. There seems to be a considerable audience for such improvisatory pianistic styles these days, so Chen Liang will hopefully explore this compositional side of himself further, though his training seems quite focused on being a pianist. His biography lists the usual flurry of competition wins, as well as the requisite degrees. He has two Bachelor of Music degrees, one from Sichuan Conservatory of Music and one from Lynn University Conservatory of Music in Florida with the very distinguished pianist Roberta Rust, followed by MM and DMA degrees from Eastman under the illustrious Natalya Antonova.

The CD continues with Debussy’s Études, Book 1 (1915-16). This set has been heard in complete set recordings by some exceptional proponents – coming to mind as favorites are Walter Gieseking, Paul Jacobs, Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, Michel Béroff, and Mitsuko Uchida – but this listener’s credo with interpretations has generally tended to be, “the more the merrier.”

Chen Liang’s renditions certainly get high marks for accuracy and precision, note-wise, though they are not the most faithful to the score dynamically, and it seems that these pieces could have benefited from more nuance. From the very first Étude (pour les “cinq droits”), the sound struck one as startlingly robust throughout. Lest that be just for comedic effect in the first Étude, a Czerny send-up, your reviewer went ahead to hear the rest, ending up with a similar impression. Assuming such a sturdy sound might be a feature of the recording itself (made at Chengdu City Concert Hall Recording Studio, Chengdu, China), this reviewer listened again, with adjustments to volume, but it seemed that however high or low the volume level was set, there was a rather narrow dynamic range within each piece. Sections with ppp (pianississimo) markings were too often not contrasting enough dynamically from the forte passages that preceded or followed, and sometimes piano or pianissimo markings seemed ignored altogether. Though many consider these Études to be immense technical challenges for a pianist (and Debussy himself considered them so), part of their challenge is to handle all the leaping and legerdemain with the nuance – and frequently lightness – demanded in multiple markings. This listener wanted more of such moments, as marked. Certainly, if one were to set aside this objection, Chen Liang’s purely digital feats were impressive enough to promise an interesting pianistic life ahead for him.

Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition (1874), another masterpiece, has had a similarly storied past in performance and recordings, so one hoped there would be more gradation in this interpretation than in the Debussy. Fortunately, though there were still dynamic quibbles throughout, the overall tonal substantiality had its benefits here. There were harmonies that this listener had never truly analyzed inside and out, but here, because of the extreme clarity of each voice, those are now etched crisply into aural memory. The forte passages incidentally were never what one would call strident – this pianist is thankfully not a “pounder” – but each note was exposed such that one could take dictation from the performance. One reads in the biographical notes that Chen Liang has a minor in Theory, and perhaps that study has lent an analytical starkness to his thinking, but in any case, he realized the notation (apart from expressive markings) with surgical precision. For a student learning the piece and wanting to hear each note in perfect clarity, without overuse of pedal or tonal sacrifices made in the name of phrasing, this performance would be of special interest.

The CD closes with Impromptu: Dong’s Drumtower (1987)by Xiangping Zou. The program notes explain that it was inspired by the composer’s visit to a southwestern ethnic mountain village of the Dong people in China and specifically the “distinctive architecture of the drum tower” (once used as a defensive structure to alert the village of danger and now used solely for celebrations). The piece is also reported to be describing “an ordinary day of life in the village.” It is a fascinating work, reflecting an unusual blend of Eastern and Western elements, with typically folk-like fragments developed into a cohesive and dramatic whole, drawing on Western traditions. It clearly announces its Chinese background, but it has moments of Scriabinesque harmonies and jazz-like rhythms, all integrated into a unified language with remarkable naturalness. It is a worthy work to know, inviting repeated listening, and it certainly adds to the allure of this release – now available on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, and iTunes.

Chenyi Avsharian, violin; Rohan De Silva, piano; Simon Hagopian-Rogers, violin

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 5, 2024

This weekend at Zankel Hall violinist Chenyi Avsharian performed a program entitled “Boundless Horizons,” presenting some of the most well-loved showpieces ever composed or arranged for violin, with pianist Rohan De Silva collaborating and young violinist Simon Hagopian-Rogersjoining for three duets. There was, as the first half, Stephen Foster’s Old Folks at Home (arr. Jascha Heifetz), Sarasate’s Zapateado, Op. 23, No. 2, Mendelssohn’s Auf Flügeln des Gesanges, Op. 34, No. 2 (“On Wings of Song” arr. Jascha Heifetz), and Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst’s Fantasie Brillante sur la Marche et La Romance d’Otello de Rossini. After intermission, we heard three selections (I, III, and V) from Five Pieces for Two Violins by Shostakovich (arr. Levon Atovmyan), the Brahms Scherzo in C Minor (Sonatensatz), selections from Gershwin’s Porgy And Bess (tr. Jascha Heifetz), Piazzolla’s Le Grand Tango, “Mo Li Hua” (traditional Chinese folksong, tr. by Chenyi Avsharian), and Franz Waxman’s Carmen Fantasie to close.

Looking at the selections in advance was like seeing a delightful menu of mostly desserts for the listener – though some mountainous challenges for the violinist. It could almost have been presented as a Jascha Heifetz tribute, given most of the works’ histories with a few exceptions, but in any case, it all demanded Heifetzian virtuosity. Ms. Avsharian, whose credits include winning the Gold Medal in the China International Violin Competition in 2008, was as fit for it as anyone could be. Beneath her modest demeanor onstage, she is a force – a powerhouse performer.

All of the works required masterful technique, but the Ernst and Waxman opera fantasies are replete with so many over-the-top demands that generally just one such piece might crown a program – so Ms. Avsharian is to be congratulated for conquering two of these with such aplomb. More musically memorable moments included the nostalgic phrases of the Foster opening (sometimes called “Swanee River”), the feather-light Zapateado, which had just the right danceable feel all through its pyrotechnics, the intensely bracing Brahms Sonatensatz, and two of the three Shostakovich duets, Prelude and Elegy, introducing talented young violinist Simon Hagopian-Rogers. All of these were well-chosen for audience accessibility, including the three Shostakovich movements, about which Itzhak Perlman once quipped before a performance, “This is Shostakovich without the bitterness or the cynicism, just sweet Shostakovich … maybe he was four years old.” Ha! Of course, there is great depth to be found in them, and Ms. Avsharian and her duo partner relayed it beautifully.

Also of note was the traditional Chinese folk song “Mo Li Hua” (“Jasmine Flower” – estimated to be from the early 1700s, though some say centuries earlier). It has been adapted by many since its discovery, including by Puccini and Tan Dun, and it was played here in a transcription by Ms. Avsharian herself, as a piece she describes as very dear to her personally. It was played with melting beauty. It is so famous among Chinese audiences that some in the hall took the liberty of singing along with it, though with such a heartfelt rendering, one half-wished to hear the violin unaccompanied!

Beyond Ms. Avsharian’s performing gifts, she is a leader at Shar Music and NeuralTones, the latter being a non-profit that, according to the promotional materials, “is committed to exploring the connection between music and brain function and enhancing music education for underserved children.” We had been informed that the event would be “combining live performance with artist commentary and multimedia projections to illustrate how our brains process and respond to music” – so one expected an alternation between music and commentary, with some multimedia additions where appropriate. Admittedly, that would have been a tall order extending the length of the program, but the decision for them to be simultaneous created a different challenge.

Instead of intermittent spoken commentary, there were images projected on a large screen behind the performers all through their performances, some including text about the music and composers, and some showing fleeting brain images (AI-enhanced?) with colors pulsating according to neural responses to music as demonstrated in various electroencephalograms (EEGs). Understandably, these were meant to help grasp the mission of NeuralTones, but this listener found such “meta-musical” additions to be doing a disservice to the live music, which warrants our complete attention. It has been well-documented that music stimulates the brain, but music deserves to be valued and savored on its own. Does it enhance the experience of haute cuisine to watch slides of the food pyramid or lingual papillae – while dining?

In addition, some neural images labeled “happy” and “sad” and cartoons with thought balloons intruded, striking one as uncomfortably limiting compared to what a free listener can notice and feel. It seemed even to contradict the advertising of the Boundless Horizons program, which professes to be “Embodying freedom and limitlessness.” Though projected images pertaining to the libretti behind the transcriptions seemed generally more justified – i.e., Carmen and Otello – program notes would have sufficed less distractingly. While printed program notes can often be superficial as well (and having one’s head in program notes can detract from a concert experience too) at least printed notes can be ignored, while projected images necessarily become part of the experience. This listener, for one, having been assigned to review the concert as a whole, could not ignore them.

There were moments when even the performers seemed to be distracted. The generally superb Ms. Avsharian suffered some moments of iffy intonation in the Brahms, and the languor of Gershwin’s “Summertime” felt lost. Even the generally expert playing of Mr. De Silva seemed a bit rushed in the Piazzolla (was he trying to keep up with visual projections?), and all was less than focused at the start of the Carmen Fantasy.

Alas, we have now become a multitasking world. Though of course good teachers offer stories and artworks to bring life and context to music for the uninitiated and the young, those are ideally part of readiness prior to unfettered listening. Ultimately, great music is enough, in and of itself. On a side note, if we are showcasing neuroscience, it should also be considered that there is mounting evidence supporting a causal relationship between multitasking and anxiety, depression, and a host of other woes – and it would be sad to see concerts adding to that. Undoubtedly, that was not intended, but hopefully, with sensitivity, NeuralTones’ dual missions of research and education will bear fruit in the world without diminishing returns in the concert hall.

The impulse to bridge gaps, regardless of method, was nonetheless appreciated  – and the audience applauded with great fervor at the concert’s end.

Carlos Gardels, piano

Recording: Matthew Snyder at Allegro Recording (6)

Paul Tavenner at Big City Recording Studios (1, 3-5, 7-10, 12);

Hideaway Recording Studios (2, 11)

Mastering: Paul Tavenner

MSR Classics: MS1847

2024

Though many speculate that classical music CDs are going the way of the dinosaur, new evidence to the contrary has been added to this reviewer’s assignments, the debut CD of young pianist Carlos Gardels on MSR Classics (MS1847). It is an actual physical CD, and cheers to that, as this musician is still a fan of holding one in hand as part of the listening ritual. It comes with a booklet, for which the artist (a published writer himself) has contributed some illuminating notes. There is much to praise in this release, which includes six Nocturnes of Chopin and selections by Debussy, but first, a bit about Mr. Gardels is in order.

When one hears the name Carlos Gardels, one probably thinks of the French-Argentine tango composer Carlos Gardels (1890 -1935) – but let there be no confusion, as this young American artist seems destined to add new resonance to the name. A Los Angeles native, the pianist Carlos Gardels made his concerto debut at age 15 as a soloist in the Rachmaninoff Third Concerto with the Pasadena Youth Orchestra. His formal education was at the Manhattan School of Music and Indiana University Bloomington, with principal teachers HakSoon Swiatkowski, Jeffrey Cohen, Émile Naoumoff, and Neil Stannard, as well as mentors David Dubal, Cyprien Katsaris, and Ruth Slenczynska. He made his debut appearance in Carnegie’s Weill Recital Hall in 2016 and has performed widely in the US, Europe, and Asia. His distinctions include prizes from the National Society of Arts and Letters, the Los Angeles International Liszt Competition, and the Young Musician’s Foundation, and he has also taught internationally, from Shanghai to Citrus College in California, where he currently resides. For composition, he has studied with Ian Krouse at the University of California, Los Angeles, and his compositions include Three Fantasies for solo piano, published in 2022 by Theodore Presser to favorable reception by students, artists, and the press.  

One might ask why even mention Mr. Gardel’s composing when his debut CD includes only Chopin and Debussy rather than any of his own compositions, but his playing has a probing quality that goes a bit deeper than the typical output of young pianists today, making that aspect feel relevant. His CD is neither of the “wholesale” single-composer sort nor of the motley debut sampler kind that could be called “pieces I play well” – rather, there has been genuine thought involved in a Chopin-Debussy connection, through both the selections and the performances, ranging from very early works to very late ones of both composers.  Mr. Gardels supports this musical connection in his program notes, citing Debussy’s documented love for Chopin, his editing of Chopin for the Durand publishing house, and his comment on “Chopin’s art of breathing with the pedal.” It is the playing itself, though, that persuades a listener – and thankfully these performances have no whiff of the didactic about them, simply a projection of kinship and musical evolution.

The first work on the CD, Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9, No. 1 in B-flat minor, blooms thanks to Mr. Gardel’s fearless use of pauses and agogics for expressive emphasis – along with the occasional slight roll (or just a bit of left-hand preceding right hand) as he savors specially chosen moments. There is more than a touch of “old school” expressivity here, and one wants to cheer for a player who is not straitjacketed by metronomes and such, as with many players today. Though some could argue that Mr. Gardels is a bit overly generous with lingering and rubati at times (as they can lose potency with recurrence), there seems to be justification in most cases – as if a tour guide were saying “Wait, listen to this.” The recorded sound throughout (from multiple sessions, 2021-2024) is warm and live, but not overbearing.

The tracks that follow offer similarly warm and inviting playing, with singing phrases and skillful dynamic gradations. The Chopin Nocturne Op. 15, No. 2, in F-sharp major is particularly winsome in its feeling of inevitability. Here, Mr. Gardels seems to let the piece unfold on its own, minimizing any sense of interpretive will being imposed upon it.

Both Nocturnes from Op. 27 (C-sharp minor and D-flat major) follow. In the C-sharp minor, Mr. Gardels again lets the drama unfold naturally. When all turns to major mode towards the end, the colors are captured with such melting beauty that a listener has the sense of experiencing it for the first time – a major accomplishment in such a standard work of the piano literature. Mr. Gardels clearly has deep feelings for these works, and they are transmitted directly to the listener. The D-flat Nocturne is played compellingly as well.

The Nocturnes from Op. 62 (B major and E major) follow, representing the late days in Chopin’s oeuvre. The breathtaking B Major Nocturne is handled with intense care, particularly evident in the infamous trilled melody.  In the E Major Nocturne, the liberty may strike a listener at first as a bit too much, almost approaching schmaltz, yet there is sufficient restraint in contrasting sections to help recapture the perfect sense of proportion in retrospect. The whole must be taken into account, and Mr. Gardel’s interpretations do emerge as well-conceived wholes.

The placement of Debussy next in this CD offers a welcome balance, with the Suite Bergamasque feeling like a natural extension of what precedes, but with new colors. The first movement, Prélude, is played in such a way as to illustrate the kinship with Chopin that the liner notes put forward – but with the clear beginnings of Debussy’s own distinct language. The famous Clair de Lune here is captivating as well, again encouraging the listener to listen to a standard work as if for the first time. Mr. Gardels takes time to savor the aftersound of his phrases, leading us to do the same. It has already been mentioned that the pauses preceding some special moments are illuminating, but this pianist also allows sufficient time after such moments to let the listener absorb their magnitude. Passepied closes the suite with just the right delicacy, crispness, and suavity, and to round off the program the CD offers a Prélude and Étude. The Prélude La fille aux cheveux de lin thrives with this pianist’s special tenderness, and the Étude Pour les arpèges composés, arguably one of the more Chopinesque of the Études, is played with artful delineation of harmonic surprises and turning points.

To those with a notion that the genius Debussy sprung forth out of some sort of spontaneous generation, this CD may inspire some rethinking. In addition, at just under 59 minutes, it offers the listener a very accessibly curated selection of two great composers, Chopin and Debussy, played with remarkable sensitivity. The CD can be found here: MSR Classics: MS 1847 and here: Carlos Gardels: Debut Album.

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor for Mozart: Requiem

Distinguished Concerts Singers International; Distinguished Concerts Orchestra

Mark Hayes, Composer/Conductor for Kindness (World Premiere) and The Field

Penelope Shumate, Soprano; Teresa Bucholz, Mezzo-Soprano;

Chad Kranak, Tenor; Christopher Job, Bass-Baritone

David Geffen Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

May 26, 2024

In a Memorial Day weekend program billed as Mozart’s Requiem, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented not only that masterpiece, left unfinished by Mozart in his last days, but also new music by American composer, Mark Hayes. It was a thought-provoking concert, with its music spanning over 200 years, bridging the centuries through themes of suffering and love, human and divine.

With the composer Mark Hayes at the podium, DCINY’s chorus and orchestra opened the program with his short work entitled The Field and continued with his lengthier work, Kindness, a Chorale and Fugue in the Baroque Tradition (a World Premiere, courtesy of the DCINY Premiere Project).

The Field was a captivating start, drawing the listener into a soulful text by the 13th-century Sufi mystic, Rumi. Expressing the world’s oneness through the metaphor of a field, the work expresses the need for humanity to transcend language and other barriers and come together. The music and emotion build very early in the piece (some might say surprisingly so) to large, lush sonorities that convey the expanse of a universal “field” – before dropping to quieter levels in the intimate line, “I’ll meet you there” – a moving moment and a welcome reminder that it all starts with individuals. The expanse of the “field” was like a full orchestral embrace. The imitative setting of the words “ideas” and “language” conveyed just the right sense of “clutter” to support the poem’s sentiment of moving beyond them, into a world that is “too full to talk about.” Using familiar hymn-like harmonies colored with the Lydian mode and some motifs reminiscent of spirituals, The Field projected a timeless grace. DCINY’s combined choruses and orchestra performed it with clear dedication.

The next work by Mark Hayes was Kindness, a Chorale and Fugue in the Baroque Tradition. It is an ambitious and lengthy work (around thirty minutes) that sets out, through a rhetorical approach of alternating questions and answers, to solve the central universal problem of “How shall we live?” The responses to the question are many (“We embrace. We welcome all.”), but the answer is essentially and repeatedly “kindness.” It is not hard to see the need for such a project in today’s world, though pulling off such a text has obvious challenges. 

Though Kindness may employ a Baroque rhetorical approach, even inviting a reference in the program notes to Bach’s B minor Mass and Handel’s Messiah, those predecessors had very different texts with certain dramatic trajectories built into them, including highly specific events (the crucifixion, as an example). Though a work avoiding plot lines to focus on a broad concept of “kindness” may be more universal, such a work also risks feeling more generic unless the text is highly specific and the music exceptionally vivid. A text without some dramatic catalysts or opportunities for dissonance or contrasting darkness can lose differentiation and direction – and the listener’s attention. Just reading the text in advance of the concert and knowing this composer’s penchant for steady and sweet consonance, this listener had some concerns. One was that, with the composer setting his own text, that quality might only intensify. Some of these concerns turned out to be justified, and extensive repetition in the text became part of the issue. Such sweeping terms as “comfort” and “compassion” – and yes, “kindness” – can drain of color with each reiteration, rendering the experience rather amorphous.

Some of these concerns, though, were diminished by some effective decisions, including adding tonal relief through several harpsichord interludes. These interludes broke up the choral segments with contrasting keyboard material that included hints of Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring (as mentioned in the program notes) and textures reminiscent to this listener of Bach’s C minor Prelude from Book I of the Well-Tempered Clavier.

Alternation of solo voices also helped alleviate a tendency toward the monochromatic – and this was especially welcome with the exchanges between soprano Penelope Shumate and tenor Chad Kranak. One has been impressed for many years by Ms. Shumate’s performances, but Chad Kranak had particularly dazzled in last year’s Messiah with DCINY, so it was great to hear him again in fine form. The subsequent blending of Shumate and Kranak in duet illustrated the text eloquently in the words, “our kindness is magnified” (further reprised by the full chorus). The cumulative energy (signifying the growing resolve to be kind) was achieved well in the latter part of the piece. The final chorus, if extracted, seemed like it could become an anthem of sorts, and the final line “Kindness will change the world” brought the work to an optimistic conclusion. Many in the audience clearly enjoyed the experience, applauding heartily.

For the second half, Jonathan Griffith conducted Mozart’s Requiem in the Robert D. Levin completion. It is not every week that one hears this Requiem twice, once in the famous Süssmayr completion and next in the Levin one, but it just so happened that this reviewer attended the N.Y. Philharmonic’s Süssmayr performance under Jaap van Zweden (also at David Geffen Hall) just four days before the DCINY one. Faced with a feast of possible preferences, this listener will just say that both performances were extremely compelling. There is a message here on the importance of the performers themselves – and certainly on how even a few kernels of Mozart bore magnificent fruit.

The Süssmayr completion has frequently been faulted for not being “Mozartean” enough, for various voice-leading and other weaknesses, and for being too thickly orchestrated, with frequent instrumental doubling of vocal parts. There have been other completions since, but it is Robert Levin’s version, commissioned for a 1991 bicentennial of the composer’s death and recorded a few years later, that has been the most highly regarded alternative since then, with good reason. Mr. Levin chose to work with the Süssmayr version, rather than replacing it completely (a wise decision, given the version’s two centuries of becoming ensconced in our minds), but he created, in his own words “a more transparent instrumentation” derived from Mozart’s other church music (placing the choir more “in the foreground”), in addition to a non-modulating Amen fugue, a newly composed Hosanna fugue – and a host of other subtle and ingenious changes. His work is a marvel of scholarship and musicianship.

The DCINY performance of Levin’s version Sunday did indeed have a transparency in which the chorus was supreme, though undoubtedly some of this was owed to the chorus’s enormous size. (One imagines they might have retained sovereignty through the Süssmayr version as well.) The participating choruses included the Greater Lake Area Chorale, Reclaim Arts Academy Chorale, New Dominion Choraliers Of Prince William County, Belin Memorial United Methodist Church Chancel Choir, Yelm Community Choir, Celebration Community Church Choir, First United Methodist Church Of Arroyo Grande Chancel Choir, Jonathan Griffith Singers, Johnson County Choral Ensemble, Weymouth Choral Society, Pilgrim Choir, First Congregational Church, Joyful Band Of Singers, Bach Society Of Dayton, North Decatur Presbyterian Church Community Choir, The Manassas Chorale, SoJo Choral Arts, St. Louis County Community Chorus, Dickinson County Community Chorus, Ipswich River Community Chorus, Stuyvesant High School Oratorio Choir, and the Richmond Choral Society & Arcadian Chorale.  These DCINY choruses constituted, as ever, a virtual army of singers.  By contrast, the chorus with the New York Philharmonic was considerably smaller – though any lack of transparency issues in the Süssmayr score there had been minimized by the superb listening and control of the conductor and ensembles.

DCINY also benefited, as ever, from terrific orchestral players. The Tuba mirum enjoyed outstanding brass playing, and the full forces of chorus and orchestra combined to a thunderous effect, particularly stirring in the Rex tremendae. The dynamic contrasts were striking in the Hostias movement, and the solos were admirable from soprano Penelope Shumate, mezzo-soprano Teresa Bucholz, tenor Chad Kranak, and bass-baritone Christopher Job.

It was mystifying that neither the Benedictus nor the Sanctus (nor Hosanna) was included in the otherwise full printed text of all the other movements – they were definitely heard (though this big double-Requiem week caused one momentarily to doubt oneself) – and they were excellent. Where the text of the Benedictus should have been, your reviewer scribbled “Christopher Job is superb” and “vocal quartet high point.” Whereas the NY Philharmonic had chosen to segue from the Lux Aeterna into Mozart’s profound Ave Verum Corpus, K. 618, this DCINY concert ended on a triumphant note with the Cum sanctis tuis. The audience stood for a loud ovation. Bravi tutti!

New England Symphonic Ensemble; Preston Hawes, Artistic Director and Concertmaster

Peter Tiboris, Jason Sabino, and Jason Strunk, Conductors

Katherine Henly, Soprano; Anna Kelly, Mezzo-Soprano; Hayden Smith, Tenor; Jason Zacher, Bass-Baritone

Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 11, 2024

With characteristically grand style, MidAmerica Productions presented a Saturday night concert at Carnegie Hall that included monuments of music by Haydn and Schubert, with a Mozart Overture added for good measure. In a program divided into a chorus-with-orchestra first half and an all-orchestral second half, the program’s first half was devoted to Haydn’s Mass in D Minor, Hob. XXII: 11 (Nelson Mass or Lord Nelson Mass), with choruses from around the country joining forces with the New England Symphonic Ensemble. For the second half, after a breeze through Mozart’s Overture to Le Nozze di Figaro, the orchestra would take on Schubert’s massive Symphony No. 9 in C major, D. 944 (“The Great”). It was destined to be a memorable evening.

With the world experiencing struggles of all kinds, the programming of Haydn’s eleventh mass, originally entitled Missa in angustiis (Mass for Troubled Times) was a fitting one. Composed in 1798, after multiple defeats of Austria by Napoleon, Haydn created a work of palpable tension, supplication, faith, and jubilation. What Haydn may or may not have known at the time of completing it was that Admiral Horatio Nelson had recently defeated Napoleon in the Battle of the Nile, but, in any case, the news came close to the day of the first performance, and by the time Nelson visited Haydn at the Esterhazy Court in 1800 the moniker Lord Nelson Mass had been well established.

From the austere orchestral introduction to the opening Kyrie, an intense solemnity was set, and from the first ensuing choral tutti, the formidable presence of the combined choruses was established. The first half of the mass was conducted by Jason Sabino and the second half by Jason Strunk – each being the conductor of two contributing choruses. Those choruses were the Century High School Concert Choir and Oregon Chorale from Hillsboro, OR (Jason Sabino, Director), and the Georgetown Day School Choirs and Georgetown Day School Choirs Alumni Ensemble, Washington, DC (Jason Strunk, Director), along with the Southern California Master Chorale, Anaheim, CA (Sheridan Ball, Director) and the Tripoli Senior High School Choir, Tripoli, IA (Chris McIntyre, Director).

It must have been a challenge to penetrate the sound of such a large chorus with orchestra, but four gifted soloists were on hand to do just that, starting with soprano Katherine Henly and following with by mezzo-soprano Anna Kelly, tenor Hayden Smith, and bass-baritone Jason Zacher. These singers clearly constituted great “ingredients” – and the main challenge would be finding the right balance among them, which was most of the time achieved.

Katherine Henly’s tone was pure and true right from the Kyrie but seemed to gain still more comfort and focus as the work developed. Throughout the mass, she seemed to thrive in the slower, sustained lines more than in the rapid melismatic sections, which were occasionally obscured by the sheer numbers. Hayden Smith’s bright tenor emerged as particularly bright and penetrating right from the Gloria, though there were moments when it could be said to have been even a bit too powerful, overwhelming other voices sometimes – in the Quoniam tu solus for example.

In Qui tollis peccata mundi, we especially enjoyed the excellent bass-baritone, Jason Zacher, whose powerful deep register was a joy throughout the mass. Mezzo Anna Kelly was ever vital to the musical texture, but especially notable as a soloist in the Agnus Dei. The choruses were clearly well-trained, and moments of subtle and glacial changes in tone (such as in the Sanctus) were especially impressive. The quartet of soloists was in full bloom as an ensemble by the Benedictus, and the Dona Nobis Pacem concluded the mass with a brilliant sound and hopeful spirit. Bravi tutti!

Peter Tiboris, conductor as well as Founder, General Director, and Music Director of MidAmerica Productions took the stage after intermission. Starting with a precise and spirited rendition of the Overture to Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro, Maestro Tiboris’ style was energized and yet economical in gesture. It was the assured approach of one who knows the responses of his orchestra and has a wealth of experience behind each decision.

Speaking of decisions, there are many highly debated ones on Schubert’s Symphony No. 9 in C major (“The Great”) which came next – starting with the issue of repeats. Already a piece with an immensity that hobbled early partial readings in Schubert’s lifetime (leaving its rediscovery for years later and complete premiere until 1839, over a decade after Schubert’s death), its vastness also inspired Robert Schumann’s famous phrase “heavenly length” as he worked to advocate for it. The symphony has been performed with a wide range of durations to match the many interpretations, some with all repeats bringing the work to over an hour, others with none but the minimal obligatory return in the Scherzo (closer to forty-five minutes), and lastly some combination of these. This weekend’s rendition was the latter, with all repeats observed in the glorious first and last movements – and given the material and well-conceived performances of the outer movements, that decision felt satisfying.

As many know, the work makes reference to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony – directly in the last movement with a quotation from the famous Ode to Joy, but also with arguable connections in the first movement and elsewhere. Schubert had attended the premiere of Beethoven’s Ninth in May of 1824 (the 200th anniversary of which was celebrated last week), and he began sketches of this magnificent work in 1825. The sheer scope owes much to Beethoven, and Maestro Tiboris embraced its expansiveness, as such a noble creation deserves. Moments were chosen to sustain momentum with some tempo flexibility, but never in a way that violated the work’s integrity.

It was undoubtedly because of such surrender to the journey that the large audience remained spellbound for its entirety, from the brilliant horn opening through to the triumphant close. The orchestra members are to be commended for their tremendous stamina through the unrelenting string demands and substantial brass and wind parts. Highlights included, naturally, the oboe part in the Andante second movement (leaving this reviewer sad for the inability to identify or credit any orchestra members, as they were not listed in the program), but then kudos go to every player in collaboration. The finale was especially thrilling, as Maestro Tiboris led a charge of tireless triplet rhythms in an inexorable drive to victory.

The large audience gave a standing ovation, as was richly deserved.

Long Island Concert Orchestra

Enrico Fagone, conductor; Frank Huang, violin; Tim Cobb, double bass

DiMenna Music Center, New York, NY

April 30, 2024

The Long Island Concert Orchestra (LICO) has filled a unique role in the New York City and Long Island areas for eight years, including some of the roughest (pandemic) years for the performing arts. It is thus a pleasure to report, based on a concert at the DiMenna Center this week, that they appear to be thriving. Established in 2016 by composer David Winkler, who continues as Executive Director and Composer-in-Residence, the orchestra fills a niche among local orchestras, including finding seldom-played but exciting repertoire – in this case, the Giovanni Bottesini Gran [or Grand] Duo Concertante for violin and double bass – and presenting mainstream favorites, such as Mendelssohn’s Symphony No. 4 (“Italian”), which we enjoyed as well. The orchestra also naturally performs Mr. Winkler’s own compositions, and fortunately for everyone, he is an outstanding composer. In this concert, we heard his Adriatica – Overture (2024), commissioned by this evening’s excellent conductor (and Artistic Director of LICO), Enrico Fagone. Incidentally, though there was no overtly stated Italian title to this program, there could have been, as each work bore a strong connection to Italy, starting with Mr. Winkler’s Adriatica, inspired of course by the Adriatic Sea.

Mr. Winkler spoke a few words to introduce the program, including mentioning that the Adriatica is part of a set of works he composed based on bodies of water – including also Atlantica and Pacifica. A listener not knowing the title would have probably guessed that Adriatica was connected to water based solely on the music. Shortly after the declamatory opening chords, shifting between major and minor, the lower strings roiled with restless repeated motives beneath high sustained lines, building from undercurrents to outright waves and at one point settling into a calmly undulating expanse. Mr. Winkler seems to compose with very clear conceptions. This work evokes the immensity of the sea. Maestro Fagone conducted it persuasively, and the players immersed themselves in it with intensity. Assuming that the companion works possess similar virtues, this listener eagerly awaits hearing Atlantica and Pacifica.

Mr. Winkler’s announcement of the Bottesini Gran Duo Concertante for violin and double bass included a speculation that probably no one in the audience had heard it before; not to be a stickler (though that comes with reviewing territory), but it may be best not to make such statements in New York City! (Possibly the words “live” or “unarranged” went unheard, in which case the supposition was fairer.) In any case, the piece is certainly not commonplace – and that is understandable, as it is devilishly hard to pull off and requires a compatible – and stellar – duo of violin and double bass. Fortunately, LICO was able to engage two superb New York Philharmonic musicians – Concertmaster Frank Huang and Principal Bassist Tim Cobb.

The story of Giovanni Bottesini (1821-1889), known as “the Paganini of the Double Bass,” is an amazing one, and one which relates closely to the creation of this unusual Gran Duo. Primarily a violinist himself until he learned that the local conservatory had scholarships left only for bassoon or bass, Bottesini managed to learn the double bass in just weeks. It is no wonder then that he approached the hulking instrument with an ideal of litheness hitherto unexplored, and that he would try to satisfy his era’s hunger for showpieces by pairing his native instrument and his adopted one in this tour de force.

The Gran Duo runs the gamut from stratospheric harmonics in both instruments to speed-of-light thirds, sixths, octaves, scales, arpeggios, bouncing bows, and a large array of pyrotechnics. All must be traded back and forth and dovetailed delicately with singing melodies – while sounding “effortless” and spontaneous. Both Frank Huang and Tim Cobb were dazzling throughout. They were also quite sensitive in synchronizing with each other – and the orchestra – as if there were no challenges at all. Perhaps such ease has come to be expected in solo violin music – and to be sure, the range of double bass virtuosity has also expanded hugely since Bottesini and others – but what was remarkable here was seeing feats that would normally be focal points, tamed by the players into collaborative parts. Both players were amazing in this regard, but to witness a bassist’s left hand flying up and down the fingerboard at lightning speed, while remaining subsidiary to violin lines, was jaw-dropping – even comical! With a lesser musician, the challenge could have resembled dressing a T. Rex in a tutu, but In Tim Cobb’s hands, this wizardry was simply part of the music.

On the subject of wizardry in supporting roles, one couldn’t help noticing that Mr. Cobb joined the bass section for the Mendelssohn Symphony No. 4 after intermission, contributing generously to the lower string lines (especially the countermelodies in the second movement).  It is absolutely not expected for a soloist to do such a thing, but it is always wonderful to see. It’s a safe bet that Mr. Huang would have stayed as well if he could have, as both players radiated the spirit of camaraderie. Anyway, there may be no better way to “come down” from the heights of collaboration with an orchestra than to join a section for such a work as Mendelssohn’s Italian Symphony – because it is basically coming “down” to Cloud Nine. Composed at a point of great joy in Mendelssohn’s life, he wrote to his sister “It will be the most joyous piece I have ever done.” This joy has reached almost two centuries of beneficiaries.

The LICO forces gave the symphony an exciting ride, and it sounded as fresh as ever (remarkable considering how often the piece has been excerpted and its themes plundered for various uses).  Of course, every musician has favorite interpretations of such a work, and this listener’s favorite renditions of the first movement have held back ever so slightly on the tempo, enabling a feeling of what one might call traction, for lack of a better word. It is not that the tempi taken in the first and last movements were necessarily faster than the average, but that a suavity and forward fluidity sometimes swept over the rhythmic “grit” with its high gloss.  There were also times when Maestro Fagone countered this tendency with a more grounded feeling – and angular motions to bring that out – and it was a joy. He too seemed elated and smiled broadly for much of it.

In the third movement the only quibble was the occasional need for more clarity ensemble-wise, but the horns deserve special mention for their exceptional playing here, as well as in the fourth movement. The final Saltarello was an intense drive to the finish, and the large audience gave a rousing ovation in appreciation. It closed what was an excellent and quite memorable concert. Kudos to all!