Rock Choir

Marcus Alleyne, Richard Toomer, Carey Camel, Directors

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 22, 2025

On Saturday, March 22nd, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented one of their most memorable concerts ever, bringing the world’s largest contemporary choir, called Rock Choir (www.rockchoir.com), from the United Kingdom to make its Carnegie Hall debut. To be more precise, we heard under one percent of Rock Choir, because, though over 300 members had flown in from London (filling some half a dozen risers on the Perelman Stage), the entire choir has actually around 33,000 members. Yes, that is not a typo – 33,000. Though we heard “only” around 300 choristers, with three dynamic conductors, there is a Rock Choir team in the UK of around 130 individuals (including 100 professional musicians) who lead tens of thousands from 400 communities across the country. They are more than a choir – they are a movement.

From the very first notes of their opening, Sweet Child O’ Mine (Guns N’ Roses), the chorus “had me at hello” (albeit with some minimal piped-in background music, as needed in a few selections). With their clapping on offbeats, swaying, and hearty voices, their energy was contagious. What followed was a stirring program of twenty-one pop and rock hits of all moods and styles, from 60’s and 70’s (Shake a Tail Feather, 1963, and Bridge over Troubled Waters, 1970) to the present day (This Is Me, 2017, Shallow, 2018, Green Green Grass, 2022, and Mountain, 2023). All three conductors – Marcus Alleyne, Richard Toomer, and Carey Camel – were skilled and charismatic, and their tag-teaming was swift and seamless.

The audience was invited to join in if moved to do so, because, as Mr. Toomer said, it’s “that kind of concert.” Many did join in. Especially fitting was the chorus’s exultant version of the second song, led by Carey Camel, What a Feeling (Giorgia Moroder, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher) from the movie Flashdance. The choice of this song seemed especially appropriate, in view of the movie’s famous audition scene, in which the Jennifer Beals character defies expectations in a winning performance. This chorus itself defied expectations here, for several reasons.  

One of the things that makes Rock Choir so special is its inclusivity. It was founded by Caroline Redman Lusher in 2005 on the belief that music has the power to unite communities and enhance the health and self-esteem of all who share in it. To this end, there are no auditions for Rock Choir. There is no musical experience necessary to join – not even the ability to read music. So, though this concert was expected to be a lovely event with a “feel good” mission, nothing about its background or the absence of prerequisites prepared one for the high standards we heard. The chorus was tremendous.

Over the course of the concert, the members sang in multiple parts, with impressive descants and some tricky suspensions and modulations, and they were nearly always beautifully in tune. Perhaps it is a case of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts, but if there was a weak voice or an unsure pitch, it was swept up in the power of music that expresses the full range of human emotions – grief, joy, and everything in between. Though mention was made of the benefits of being a member of Rock Choir, those benefits could be felt by their listeners as well, as one could sense audience members gradually shedding their inhibitions. Rock Choir’s joy, simply in being human, is contagious. Mr. Toomer mentioned perhaps starting such a group in New York, and he may have been joking, but yes, please.

Mr. Camel followed Flashdance with Video Killed the Radio Star of The Buggles (arr. Alex Hawker), and then I Wanna Be the Only One (Bebe Winans/ James Lawrence, arr. Josie Black), before Mr. Toomer returned to add his special touch to three songs, the Caribbean-inspired Green Green Grass (George Ezra, arr. Katherine Tye), the Whitney Houston favorite, I Wanna Dance with Somebody (George Merrill/ Shannon Rubicam, arr. Charlotte Nash), and Only You (Vince Clarke, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher). For the last one, Mr. Camel joined as piano support.

Mr. Alleyne brought the next three to life, starting with A Thousand Years (Christina Perre, arr. Josie Black), and it was enhanced by having Mr. Camel at the piano again and Mr. Toomer now adding violin (as he did elsewhere). There seemed nothing these three gentlemen could not handle together. In fact, one couldn’t help thinking that possibly with the addition of some portable percussion or a synthesizer, they could pull off an entire concert using nothing pre-recorded. It would be a great endorsement of purely live music, which needs every champion it can get right now. Mr. Alleyne then led the chorus in what was a concert highlight for this listener, Bridge Over Troubled Waters (Paul Simon, arr. Alex Hawker). Its gentle beauty was a welcome solace, and Mr. Camel handled the piano part well.

On a side note, there were a few diction surprises through the evening, and the latter song included one. Though American choruses often try to adopt British pronunciation (or as many say, the “correct” pronunciation), that choice can be startling in certain American selections, such as Bridge Over Troubled Water. As it had been made famous in the version sung by its New York composer, the British pronunciation of “water” really jumped out. No criticism is meant – it was just charming – but the chorus did capture a more regional American flavor in some other songs, such as For Once In My Life, which Stevie Wonder popularized (Ron Miller/Orlando Murden, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), and Shake a Tail Feather, sung famously by the Blues Brothers (Oath Hayes/Verlie Rice/Andre Williams, arr. Alex Hawker).

A special highlight of the program was This Is Me from The Greatest Showman (Benji Pasek /Justin Paul, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), also conducted by Mr. Alleyne. Once again, the choice was particularly appropriate for a chorus that embraces singers of all levels, ages, and backgrounds. Every member seemed to belt out the recurring line, “This is me” as if it were written expressly for them.

Other songs included She Will Be Loved (Maroon 5, arr. Katharine Tye), conducted expertly by Mr. Toomer and I Don’t Want To Miss a Thing (Diane Warren – popularized by Aerosmith), handled sensitively by Mr. Alleyne. Mr. Camel then led an appealing performance of the UK hit Somewhere Only We Know (Keane, arr. Sam Smith and Josie Black) in the Lily Allen version.  

Mr. Toomer, along with keeping delightful and educational commentary going between songs, led several more favorites, including Like a Prayer (Madonna/ Patrick Leonard) and Jolene (Dolly Parton). Though there was a group of four songs left to be conducted by Mr. Alleyne to conclude the concert, Mr. Toomer threw the choice out to the audience as to whether the fourth would be played as an encore, depending on audience response. Naturally it was. No one was in a hurry to leave, it seemed, and one side of the audience had a group of people dancing. We heard excellent renditions of Shallow from A Star is Born (Lady Gaga / Mark Ronson, arr. Charlotte Nash), the ever-popular Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), and a particularly self-affirming version of Mountain (Sam Ryder, arr. Sam Smith), in which the line “I am a mountain” refers to the overcoming of obstacles in life. There were probably very few in the chorus for whom these lyrics did not resonate – for a start, managing the thousands of miles to come here and sing – but they certainly “hit home” for this listener as well.

With loud cheers and stomping, the audience demanded the encore of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now (Freddy Mercury, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), and it brought the house down. Thank you, Rock Choir, and please come back soon!

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Ian Hobson, Pianist

Tenri Institute, New York, NY

March 21, 2025

A full house at Tenri Institute Friday enjoyed an evening of Schumann, as renowned pianist Ian Hobson played yet another installment in his cycle of Schumann’s complete piano music (which has included piano-based chamber music). The project started some five years ago just before the pandemic derailed everything, and fortunately for us there are more concerts to go. This particular concert, entitled Colorful Album Leaves, included the Bunte Blätter, Op. 99 (Colorful Leaves) on the first half, and the Albumblätter, Op. 124 (Album Leaves) after intermission, a total of 34 miniatures. Schumann had wanted to call all of these Spreu (meaning “chaff”), as they were amassed over about twenty years of being cast aside. Thankfully, Schumann was dissuaded from using that title, as chaff they are not. In addition to their individual merits, one finds in them elements that illuminate Schumann’s larger works. They are, as the noted music writer Paul Griffiths calls them in his excellent program notes for this concert, “brilliant winnowed flecks.”

Pianist Ian Hobson should need very little introduction (to anyone who has paid attention in the music world for the last four or five decades), but a few words are in order. With some 60 releases in his discography, there is very little he has not covered, from the complete sonatas of Beethoven and Schumann to the complete variations of Brahms. From delving into lesser-known masters (such as Moscheles, Hummel, and Stöhr) to championing works by composers of today (Chumbley, Lees, Gardner, Liptak Ridout, and Wyner), his range is encyclopedic. Launched internationally in 1981 with First Prize in the Leeds International Piano Competition, he is one of those special prizewinning pianists whose momentum seems to have simply grown by the year, whether in the realms of conducting, educating, or cycles of live concerts.

Having heard and reviewed Mr. Hobson several times now, this reviewer has come to think of him as a “big” pianist, the description stemming not from his physical stature (though that happens to apply) or his sound (which also applies), but from his ability to convey the big picture, painting his interpretations in broad brushstrokes, with an architect’s grasp and without fussiness or self-indulgence. Generally one might not expect such a pianist to handle well all the delicate fluctuations of these miniatures – as Schumann can be rather “needy” – but what Mr. Hobson brought to them on this occasion was a refreshing clarity, perhaps akin to his conductor’s overview. In any case, it was welcome. We could enjoy the vista of hills and valleys without getting too lost in the flurry of foliage.

From the first notes the Bunte Blätter Mr. Hobson proved to be in fine form. The first piece in this set had been Schumann’s Christmas message to his wife Clara in 1838, and one could hear the sentiment in the pianist’s warmth of tone and phrasing. No. 2 flew by with Schumann’s characteristic restlessness, and No. 3 found Schumann’s famous alter-ego Florestan presiding. In the melancholy 4th piece (which became the subject for sets of variations by both Clara Schumann in her Op. 20 and Brahms in his Op. 9), we heard from another of Schumann’s alter-egos, Eusebius, and here Mr. Hobson’s control of voices was exceptional. On the subject of control, the little finger of his right hand proved capable throughout the concert of a more penetrating sound than many a flute or violin section. When he chose to highlight an important line, it was with the sonic equivalent of a Sharpie.

In the third and fifth pieces of the Op. 99, plus a few others, the high speed led to the occasional smudge, but this reviewer decided to tune out such imperfections, as there was so much music to absorb. On that topic, a half-century of experience warrants a certain reverence, and “teachable moments” abounded. As an example, there were times when this musician thought, “Oh, there could have been more made of that phrase” – but after two iterations or further development, the “more” would come, and magically so, thanks to not giving in to immediacy.

Favorites included the Sehr langsam (No. 7), in which the suspensions were heart-rending. The Praeludium (No. 10) was also memorable for its stormy drive. Ones that were harder to embrace included the Marsch (No. 11) – with the trio section’s incessant repeated chords emerging as a bit overbearing in this hall – and the Abendmusik (No. 12), which was simply hard to follow. These are not the friendliest of Schumann’s strays, but Mr. Hobson did give them a good home for the evening. He also brought to life the Scherzo (No. 13) and the quirkily humorous Geschwindmarsch.

After intermission, Mr. Hobson emerged with the score to the twenty pieces of Op. 124 (Albumblätter), but only, as he quipped to the audience, to check “which order” they’re in. Indeed, the music sat by the side of the rack, ignored until a quick check for sequence around the twelfth piece.

Highlights of this set included the Walzer (No. 4), which had a welcome liberty about it, and the winsome Wiegenliedchen, though it had more momentum than what one might expect from a lullaby. A less familiar one to this listener, the Burla (No. 12), was delightfully robust, and the next Walzer (No. 15) was beautifully ethereal. The final piece, Canon (No. 20), closed the concert with a hallowed feeling. One already looks forward to the continuation of the cycle on April 25, with a concert entitled Love and Nature III. Looking further down the road, Schumann and Hobson fans can save September 26, 2025 as well.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Chloe Chuyue Zhang, piano

Orpheus Classical, 2022

Fans of piano music, particularly Russian piano music, have a new collection to enjoy, the solo debut album of pianist Chloe Chuyue Zhang, released by Orpheus Classical. Listed at some sites as released in 2022, it was recently made available through multiple music platforms (Spotify, Apple Music, and more) and so is listed in some places as a 2025 release. Whichever the date may be, it is definitely worth a listen. It includes Prokofiev’s Seventh Piano Sonata, Op. 83, Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Op. 42, and Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, Op. 37a.

It is not easy in this age to release something “new” from these three composers. There are countless excellent pianists  who have played and recorded Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata and many who have played the Rachmaninoff Corelli Variations (actually based on a theme called La Folia once attributed to Corelli). For just the Prokofiev, the options are great, including Sviatoslav Richter, Vladimir Horowitz, and a virtual pantheon of greats. A search for those who have recorded the Prokofiev and Rachmaninoff yields another formidable list including Mikhail Pletnev, Vladimir Ashkenazy, Valentina Lisitsa, and too many others to name, though in most cases one would need to buy two separate recordings;  a striking feature of Chloe Zhang’s release, however, is the juxtaposition of both of these giants along with Tchaikovsky’s set of twelve miniatures, The Seasons. Although there is also a large catalogue of recordings of the Tchaikovsky set, this reviewer has never encountered the set alongside these two monuments.

It is a fascinating listening experience to hear all three in a row, in reverse chronological order as they are offered here. It is like experiencing a war ending with a cataclysmic battle (not a stretch, with the Prokofiev being one of the three “War Sonatas” from 1942), then collapsing into tearful and cathartic reverie about it all (Rachmaninoff’s Op. 42 dating from 1931, with shadows of war and loss never far) – and, to recover, spending months looking out a window, watching the world go by at a safe distance (from the rural Russia of Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, 1875). To play all three requires a pianist of excellent technique and a wide range of expressivity, and Chloe Chuyue Zhang has both.

Dr. Zhang, who hails from Shenzhen, China, has achieved quite a few distinctions in music, including numerous concerts and broadcasts in the US, China, and Europe, and several prizes, notably First Prize in the Bradshaw and Buono International Piano Competition. Her studies include an MM degree from The Juilliard School with Jerome Lowenthal and a DMA degree from the Eastman School of Music, with Natalya Antonova. In addition, she has worked  with Robert Levin, Joseph Kalichstein, Alexander Kobrin, Alexander Korsantia, Matti Raekallio, Boris Slutsky, and Martin Canin.

Dr. Zhang’s recording starts off with a strong account of Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata. She clearly has all the “nuts and bolts” well in hand, and she gives a performance of great clarity and detail. She shifts easily from sharp attacks to muted colors, from rapid repeated notes to stomping bass chords – the whole range. She does tend, overall, to favor staccato articulations where not notated, such as in the opening, but there are naturally varying interpretations possible here. One of my favorites is a performance by Horowitz (Carnegie Hall 1951), who by contrast has a rather slithery legato to start, setting a sinister tone for the movement. Richter’s is more detached – and many have considered him the last word, as Prokofiev entrusted the premiere to him. At any rate, Dr. Zhang’s clean detached approach works well and is intensified by the recording quality, which is exceptionally clear as well.

The second movement begins movingly, with warmth of sound, as marked, caloroso, and its dramatic arch is also built skillfully. One was a bit perplexed by the delivery of some triplets in the poco agitato section (as they seem to resemble a different rhythm), but then again, rhythmic interpretations are not always literal, and without multiple conceptions we wouldn’t need multiple recordings. The overall effect is persuasive.

Dr. Zhang also handles the infamous last movement with dispatch. There seems to be no challenge in it that she cannot handle with ease – and one’s only reservation relates to the fact that it seems almost too easy. It is quite exciting, without question, but this listener wants even more ferocious, unbroken energy (even when in lower dynamic levels). Naturally this is easier to transmit in live performance. In a recording studio, the focusing on details (marking phrase ends, tapering of motives after accents, etc.) can detract a bit from the inexorable drive of the piece. At any rate, she gives the piece an impressive powerhouse finish.

Few works could be more welcome after the Prokofiev than Rachmaninoff’s Op. 42, and this pianist gives the haunting opening theme just the right transparency of tone. Though your reviewer prefers a more gentle, gradual unfolding afterwards in the first variation – and more leggiero feel in the second – it is, all in all, beautifully done. Dr. Zhang in her program notes points out that the Op. 42 is unlike Rachmaninoff’s “more overtly virtuosic” compositions in its nuance and intimacy. That is true, though it has some deceptively difficult technical challenges. She is on top of nearly all of them – from the registral shifts in Variation V to the rather awkward leaps in Variation XX, which are exemplary in her hands. Only in Variation X, with a slight slowing of the parallels, does she betray any hints of strain, but she re-establishes her command with force in Variation XI.  Especially captivating are the harmonic twists and turns in Variation VIII and quixotic changes in Variation XII. To this reviewer, there could be more care in the shaping of phrases in the meltingly beautiful Variation XV – as well as a bit more freedom in the Intermezzo – but overall, the great beauty of this masterpiece comes through.

After the blistering brilliance of the Prokofiev and heart-rending pianism of the Rachmaninoff, the Tchaikovsky character pieces seem almost like playthings, but they are admirable in their own right. They were commissioned in 1875 by Nikolay Matveyevich Bernard, editor of Nouvellist magazine, to be released one per month to the readership, with each piece representing a month of the year (and subtitled by Bernard). If they strike one as salonish, it is because they hearken back to the days when there were pianos in so many homes that a player of moderate ability might have played them (hence amplifying Tchaikovsky’s income). They are worlds away from the Tchaikovsky most of us know for his symphonies and concerti – but several of them, treated as singular gems, have attracted programming by virtuosi – including by Rachmaninoff himself.

To perform the whole set requires special patience, and where Dr. Zhang stands out is that she does not overdo anything. Though these pieces have been used by teachers to cultivate expressiveness in young pianists (resulting sometimes in miniature dramas), Zhang’s playing is notable for its simplicity and restraint. This quality is particularly appropriate in pieces such as January (“By the Hearth”) where, upon repetition of the same phrase – largely the same way – one can envision the recurrence of almost workaday winter pastimes.

February (“Carnival”) is festive in her hands, with ringing clarity, and her March (“Song of the Lark”) follows with melancholy. In April (“Snowdrop”) there is a sparkling, balletic quality, reminding one that Tchaikovsky was just finishing Swan Lake as he composed this – and her stretching at the end is graceful and lovely. May (“Starlit Nights”) conveys both brooding to reveling.

The June movement (“Barcarolle”) is one of the more popular ones in which it is hard to “unhear” the magic of a century of artists who have played it, but Dr. Zhang captures much of its beauty. Perhaps the melody could transcend the meter more at times, but again, this is personal.  The pastoral calm and eventually more bustling feeling of July (“Song of the Reaper”) take us to an August (“Harvest Song”) of frenetic, Schumannesque energy, contrasting with its gentler, more intimate middle section. Shades of Mendelssohn color the prancing September movement (“Hunter’s Song”) and the perennial favorite, October (“Autumn Song”),  exudes special tenderness. The set concludes well with the pianist enjoying the ride of November (“Troika”) and the lilting waltz of December (“Christmas”).

Classical musicians will undoubtedly choose their own favorites to listen to from the entire collection, but it is also worthwhile to hear everything in a row and experience it as a recital. Kudos to Dr. Zhang!

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Distinguished Concert Singers International

Kenney Potter, Guest Conductor 

Irene Messoloras, Guest Conductor 

Kyle Pederson, DCINY Composer-In-Residence & Piano

Shanelle Gabriel, Spoken Word Artist

The Bethel Choir from Bethel University (MN), Merrin Guice Gill, Director

Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra (CA), Elliott Bark, Director,

Hyungbin Jung, Guest Conductor

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 16, 2025

In one of their trademark extravaganzas this weekend, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented a concert including both choral and orchestral works and entitled “A Vision of Light.” Included were two premieres, the world premiere of Elliot Bark’s Mercy for violin, cello, piano, and orchestra, with the Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra, and the Carnegie Hall premiere of A Vision Unfolding, a choral work by Kyle Pederson, with the combined choruses of the Distinguished Concerts Singers International. Along with these two premieres were various other selections, including some additional orchestral works, three contrasting songs from the Bethel Choir of Minnesota, and the always transcendent choral music of Ola Gjeilo and Morten Lauridsen to conclude. Apart from the special 3-song segment by the Bethel Choir, the chorus for the afternoon was the Distinguished Concert Singers International including hundreds of singers (from the Barrington United Methodist Church Chancel Choir (IL), Bethel Choir, the Longmont Chorale, the UCI Choir, Mynderse Academy Varsity Chorus, the Irmo High School Chorus, the Peninsula Community Chorus, Spirit Song Choir, Angeles Chorale, the Crean Lutheran High School Chamber Choir & Saints Singers, and the Gloria Deo Academy Choir).

Aside from running too long for most listeners – at over two hours and thirty-five minutes – the concert was, as usual for DCINY, full of uplifting messages, this time centering on the word “light” as inspiration. The presentation of young but serious ensembles is part of the “secret sauce” of DCINY, and, as the Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra played their portion of the program, one could feel increasing hope for this upcoming generation. They dove into Arturo Márquez’s Danzón No. 2 with precision and didn’t let up on focus for an instant. The guest conductor for this opening was Hyungbin Jung, and he led the orchestra with gusto in a dance of distinctive claves dance rhythms. It seemed that the entire orchestra might just start dancing – and perhaps the audience too.

The premiere of Elliot Bark’s Mercy followed under the baton of the composer, with violinist Andrew Kwon, cellist Janet Park, and pianist Esther Lee as the excellent soloists. The pianist opened with a slow, funereal repetition of middle D which became the start point for implied harmonies and plaintive strains as the violin, cello, and then orchestra joined in a musical “prayer” of sorts. All built quickly to an enormous climax and orchestral tutti, before eventually receding to end with that same lonesome middle D on the piano, now as part of a B-flat major harmony, transformed. If this piece was composed with the goal of exploiting the forces at hand, it did just that, with full strings, winds, brass, percussion and a piano glissando at its peak. What good fortune it is for this fine student orchestra to have this composer at the helm! They concluded their segment of the program with four movements from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition in the Ravel orchestration – the Promenade, The Gnome, The Hut on Hen’s Legs (Baba Yaga), and The Great Gate of Kiev – all showing the players to great advantage.

After intermission the music was all choral, starting with three selections from the Bethel Choir of Minnesota. Conductor Merrin Guice Gill led them expertly, first through an Alleluia by Elaine Hagenberg (b. 1979). I reviewed a work by this composer last year, citing her gift of pulling at one’s heartstrings – and the same gift graced her Alleluia. Dr. Gill led the singers in drawing out the beauty of each line and harmony. Next came (reversing the printed program order) “Yver, vous n’este qu’un villain” from Trois Chansons – Claude Debussy’s setting of a saucy medieval chastisement of winter, delivered with exactitude in its imitative voices. The set concluded with Hold Fast to Dreams by Roland Carter (b. 1942), an impassioned outpouring with its roots in spirituals. It closed the set powerfully, with good support from Emily Urban at the piano and a very powerful soprano soloist who somehow did not take a separate bow at the end but perhaps ought to have.

Following the Bethel Choir was the premiere of A Vision Unfolding by Kyle Pederson, which dominated the second half. As the program notes tell us, Mr. Pederson was commissioned in 2021 to create a work centering on themes of social justice. He wanted a perspective on this subject beyond his own, so he reached out to poet/songwriter/spoken word artist Shanelle Gabriel for collaboration. The resulting work consists of five movements, set to stirring texts by Robert Bode, Walt Whitman, and Langston Hughes, as well as two by Mr. Pederson and Ms. Gabriel themselves. In addition, Ms. Gabriel was onstage throughout the performance introducing each of the five movements with her own heartfelt spoken word recitations. The music itself was composed in a highly accessible tonal language, with a sweetness that was skillfully broken by movements of more determination. Highlights included the first movement “Reach Down, Lord” in which the word “reach” was repeated to percussive effect, as well as the rhythmic piano part in “Beat! Drums!” (played the composer himself, Mr. Pederson). Guest instrumentalists were violinist Emanouil Manolov and – particularly important in the drive of “Beat! Drums!” – trumpeter Christopher Bubolz with snare drummer Charles Kiger. The spoken word as recited by the chorus, when not singing, was also striking and was beautifully held together by conductor Kenney Potter. Though this large work has already had performances, this was its Carnegie Hall premiere, and one can imagine it growing quite popular among the many choruses across the country, especially if movements can be excerpted.

This reviewer’s chief reservation about the program pertained to length. With two of my favorite works yet to come, Ubi Caritas by Ola Gjeilo and Lux Aeterna by Morten Lauridsen, I was already too maxed out to truly experience them as the beauties they are – though beautifully performed as expected, with Irene Messoloras conducting and Philip Hoch at the organ. Lest I be put out to pasture for what may seem a matter of stamina, there were teenagers seated behind me snoring from fatigue. Music is a joy to share, but timing is everything, as the art itself exists in time. The readiness of listeners must not be taken for granted, no matter how manageable the selections may seem to those planning them in the abstract (along with prolonged entries and exits). As this reviewer has commented before, one can move from painting to painting in a museum or from offering to offering at a feast without partaking to excess in either case; with music, however, the only recourse when faced with excess is to leave during a concert, something considered rude by many and an impossibility for a reviewer.

With more sensitivity in their programming, DCINY will undoubtedly continue to fill their important role bringing throngs together in love of music.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Justin Bischof, conductor and artistic director

Alexandre Moutouzkine, pianist

Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Music Center New York, NY

March 12, 2025

The Modus Operandi Orchestra (MOO) outdid itself this week (and that says a lot) in a tremendous all-Beethoven concert at Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Music Center, billing their program as “The Three Bs – Beethoven, Beethoven, and Beethoven” (riffing, of course, on the musical reference to “the three Bs” as Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms). The “three” part referred to the three works, in this case the Coriolan Overture Op. 62, the Piano Concerto No. 5 (“Emperor”), Op. 73, and the Symphony No. 7, Op. 92 – all masterpieces in their respective forms.

With David Geffen Hall, Alice Tully Hall, and other famous venues just a few blocks away – along with conservatory orchestras and concerts galore – it was heartening to see that Merkin Hall was packed with people so excited to hear a program of (presumably) familiar classics. A cheering crowd seemed to know they were in for a memorable night – and they were (including, we were told, thirty-two veterans and friends from the Manhattan School of Music and the Emet Classical Academy). The soloist for the Beethoven Concerto No. 5 would be brilliant Russian-American pianist Alexandre Moutouzkine, who has played with over sixty orchestras across the globe and garnered innumerable accolades (including from New York Concert Review), and the conductor would be, as ever for this orchestra, Justin Bischof, who is also artistic director for MOO (plus organist, fund-raiser, educator, and wearer of countless other hats). The orchestra would be, as it has proven repeatedly to be, a superb combination of some of the top-notch pros in the area, including concertmaster Eiko Kano (who is also the concertmaster for the Pegasus Orchestra and plays for various prominent orchestras in New York) and on this occasion thirty-three other instrumentalists. The Modus Operandi Orchestra may not rack up the hours of rehearsal that other full-time orchestras do, but – to play with another saying – sometimes the best things in life are freelance. There was often an edge-of-seat intensity to their playing that one sometimes misses in full-time orchestras.

Some may assume that there would have to be some trade-off between intensity and polish, but any such idea was dispelled right from the perilous opening chords of the overture. They were as close to perfection in timing of attacks and cutoffs as one could hope to hear. Those enjoying Maestro Bischof’s easygoing manner as raconteur might also not be braced for the ferocity of his musicianship, but after a succinct account of the story behind the Coriolan Overture, he wrung every bit of musical drama from its dualities, from the warring timpani to the imploring violins and every undercurrent along the way.

Incidentally, this reviewer had heard the Modus Operandi Orchestra play a portion of this program two years ago at St. Mary’s Church (Long Island City), where (as part of a Vienna-themed program) they paired the Coriolan Overture and 7th Symphony with a Mozart motet, aria, and symphony (the “Haffner” K. 385). The heft was definitely increased by the addition of the “Emperor” Concerto to the other Beethoven – and though it is generally agreed upon that the name “Emperor” did not come from Beethoven (nor have any relationship to the work) the name is considered by some to have stemmed from its immediate standing as a crowning achievement – or “Emperor”-  among piano concerti. It requires a pianist of consummate abilities, and the choice of Alexandre Moutouzkine, with his impressive array of credentials, was not surprising.

Mr. Moutouzkine showed many of the qualities which undoubtedly contributed to his being chosen as major prizewinner and laureate in many important competitions (Arthur Rubinstein, Montreal, and many more). He is, first of all, reliable to the point of nearly note-perfect performances. On top of that, he is a sensitive collaborator. One of the highest virtues, in this reviewer’s opinion, is the ability to play a concerto as chamber music, and Mr. Moutouzkine does just that. Far beyond merely listening to the orchestra intently at crucial junctures, he appears to be living the music each moment, whether he is playing or not. (If this seems like an obvious sine qua non, this reviewer has heard many soloists without that habit – including one famous violinist who would tweak her shoes with her bow during orchestral sections, inviting speculation about just how much gum she might be removing). There was no question at this concert that the piano and orchestra were united throughout. Still more remarkable, Mr. Moutouzkine showed the ability to adjust by a nanosecond even in the middle of complex passages to facilitate imminent meeting points. His intelligence and mastery were always clear.

Quibbles are inevitable, when a reviewer has a lifetime of adoring a piece, but there were very few. One wish was for just a bit more breathing room in the espressivo moments and for the longer notes of the opening cadenzas. There was also – perhaps due to the piano itself – a tendency for forte and fortissimo sounds to verge on harshness, intensified by the necessary placement of the instrument so close to the edge of the stage in this small hall (such that the piano sound for seats near the front was overwhelming). The extremes of loudness were most conspicuous in the longest string of octaves in the first movement – as well as some of the almost Czerny-esque left-hand finger-work – but because Beethoven’s works are organic wholes, the already wide dynamic range became hard to process. Some pianissimo sections were also so extreme (perhaps from an abundance of caution with the resonance), that they felt by contrast as if they had come from a different planet from the fortes, rather than sharing the same musical “DNA” as the rest of the piece.

Whatever ideals there may be for such music, all in all Mr. Moutouzkine’s performance was outstanding, full of emotion and brilliance that had the audience unable to contain its applause even after just the first movement. The meltingly beautiful second movement had all the tender care it invites, and the rousing finale was victorious.

After intermission, the MOO celebrated Beethoven with the Seventh Symphony, one of Beethoven’s most beloved works and one that even Beethoven himself considered one of his finest. As Maestro Bischof shared, it is a work which even in its premiere elicited an encore of the second movement – then quipping, “we’re not going to do that.”

The orchestra’s performance of this work seemed to have grown even stronger since their 2023

Vienna-themed concert. This reviewer had singled out special contributions then (e.g., the flutes and horns), but that would be hard to do at this concert, as the entire orchestra truly shone. Having been seated right below the cellists, bassists, and timpanist, one could not help admiring them in particular throughout the concert – but all players gave their all. Maestro Bischof’s sensitive approach to the profound Allegretto brought back the tragic spirit that had opened the program with the Coriolan, and he led us through Beethoven’s miraculous transformations. The ensuing Presto was infectiously jubilant, and the Finale was a triumph. Both seemed to emanate from much larger forces than were present.

In summary, the evening was a tremendous tribute to Beethoven. In lieu of an encore, one could only leave with the music in one’s mind, thinking how fortunate the world is to have had Beethoven – and how fortunate New Yorkers are to have the Modus Operandi Orchestra and their illustrious guest artists.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Thomas Nickell, pianist

Tenri Cultural Institute,  New York, NY

March 14, 2025

A capacity crowd gathered to hear composer and pianist Thomas Nickell at the Tenri Cultural Institute this week and enjoyed an evening of the music of Frédéric Chopin that in some ways hearkened back to salon recitals of yore – from the intimacy of the venue (and free-flowing wine) to the family friendliness of the audience. The program included several of Chopin’s most beloved masterpieces, plus some shorter selections. Starting with the Fantasy Op. 49, Mr. Nickell followed with the last six preludes from Op. 28, and then the Berceuse, Op. 57, and the Barcarolle, Op. 60, before intermission. The second half opened with the Four Mazurkas, Op. 24, followed by the first three Scherzi. It was curated nicely for dramatic trajectories and contrasts, taking the audience on a journey that was never dull.

A reviewer hears many highly polished conservatory players who quite often resemble so many cookies from the same batch. There may not be much of a sense of programming sometimes (or awareness of the audience’s “journey”) – and not always a great sense of individual spirit either – but the elements of the score, certainly the notes, tend to all be there from hours of thorough practice. This concert was almost the reverse. There was indeed spirit in each moment – and ideas galore – but sometimes there was just a bit too much “riding roughshod” over the music for a true devotee of Chopin to enjoy. To restate a criticism made in another review from 2023, Mr. Nickell left “a few too many details obscured or glossed over … and one hesitates even to use such a potentially dismissive term as ‘detail’ in discussing the finely wrought creations of Chopin.” It is easy to chalk up a “big picture” tendency to the fact that a performer is also a composer, but more on that later.

The Fantaisie in F minor, Op. 49, was one of the strongest offerings, though there was some sketchiness in the fingerwork surprisingly early on and a few rhythmic anomalies in the B-major section (no, not rubato – as one can tell the difference). What was great was the emotional narrative of the piece – always strongly projected. Mr. Nickell transmitted to the audience what must be his own love of the work, and he did it with warmth of tone and a personal feeling for highlights – as a tour guide might take a visitor to his favorite spots. It underscored for this reviewer how much Mr. Nickell has grown as a pianist and musician in recent years.

The six selections from Op. 28 were less compelling. Prelude No. 19 in E-flat major, understandably a difficult one, needed more accuracy, delicacy, and attention to polish. No. 21 in B-flat major found the left hand obscuring the right. No. 22 in G minor got swept away with emotion – not a bad thing in itself, but it resulted in some mishaps, notably the crucial low C-sharp octave near the end. No. 24 in D minor was quite dramatic – as it needs to be – but needed more attention to the descending thirds. Pianists routinely impale themselves on these, but this reviewer believes that such hurdles can be overcome with lots of careful work, if the piece as a whole means enough to the player. The final three notes were earthshaking – as they should be.

It was particularly beautiful to hear, after such storming, the Berceuse (Lullaby), Op. 57. When this reviewer mentioned earlier the care taken in curating a program, this choice was one of the examples. The juxtaposition was potent. There are always quibbles, however, and there were some here. As anyone who has played this work knows, the left hand repeats its steady rocking pattern nearly exactly throughout the piece, but with sometimes an E-flat and sometimes a C on the fourth eighth of each measure – and it actually matters, because of what is in the right hand. Without the correct notes, doubled C’s or E-flats arise, among other issues. Cringes ensue, the baby awakens, and war breaks out. Well, perhaps that is an exaggeration, but the point stands. If it is worth playing at all, it is worth fine-tuning – and that includes mastery of the later filigree as well, which needed neatening (perhaps with more hand-rotation). Great pianists have famously agonized over accuracy in recording this work – long before the days of splicing and high-tech fixes – and though a live performance is not the same as a recording, it should matter no less.

The Barcarolle closed the first half with another strong performance. Its magnificence was in full sail, and undoubtedly those in the audience who may never have heard the piece before will now feel the pull towards more Chopin. They gave a rousing ovation before the break. Bravo!

After intermission we heard the Four Mazurkas, Op. 24. Considering how many mazurkas Chopin composed, it is a shame that we don’t hear them in live programs more often, so it was a joy that Mr. Nickell programmed these. He brought out much of the originality and “newness” of them, whether through the crispness of the Lydian-flavored No. 2, the chromaticism of No. 3 (which, with overholding of thirty-second notes, sounded like blocked sevenths), and the robust rhythms and metric surprises in all four. They were a joy.

Some of Mr. Nickell’s liberties seemed gratuitous even in these dances (such as the turning of some quarter-note upbeats into eighths at will in No. 3), and though we are no longer in this reviewer’s dinosaur-age school days where such playing would have elicited screeds (“if Chopin had wanted a quarter note, he knew how to write one”), the score is always the starting point. We often hear about the spirit of the law in opposition to the letter of the law in music – but why not have both?

The program concluded with much fire via the first three of the Scherzi, but again sometimes speed took the place of what constitutes true brilliance (generally including the presence of all notes, articulations, and markings, regardless of speed). No. 1 in B minor found excessive haste leading to blurs, omissions, and messiness, including in the big chromatic run at the end, and there were similar results in Nos. 2 and 3. Though there was a certain excitement always, the music devolved at times into mere washes and gestures. Let there be no mistake, we need those gestures, but if everything becomes a glossing-over or gesture, the performance starts to sound like a summary, as if the performer is showing us something approximating “how it would go” if we played it. Listeners may get “the gist” of it, but we generally want more than the gist at a concert. A lecture-demonstration may be different, and one has a hunch that Mr. Nickell may have some of those in his future.

As your reviewer here has written before, Mr. Nickell is a promising young composer as well as pianist. This warrants mention, in reference to a point made earlier. Composers are often cited for performing with less than full attention to detail, perhaps due to their own imaginations’ tendency to grasp what they consider the essence of a piece immediately (and likewise, their desire to transmit it immediately). There also may be issues of time demands, as a composer needing to copy fifteen-part scores may simply not have time to practice scales and passagework. In any case, when we consider what effort Chopin took to write each note and marking (naturally long before the advent of music software), with dozens of carefully chosen pitches and note values constituting each “wash” or gesture, and all organically part of the whole work, we generally feel an awe that compels us to devote no less effort in relaying it – as servants in a way. One would imagine that a composer, perhaps even more than other musicians, might agree out of sheer compassion.

At any rate, when some time is invested in more of the nuts and bolts, there will be yet another reason to hear Mr. Nickell. There are already many.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

José Navarro-Silberstein, pianist

Merkin Hall at the Kaufmann Music Center, New York, NY

February 28, 2025

An exciting evening of piano music – largely South American – kicked off the musical weekend, as Bolivian pianist José Navarro-Silberstein gave his New York recital debut at Merkin Hall, presented by Kantuta Concerts under the auspices of the Foundation for Bolivian Artists. A program dominated by music of Argentina, Bolivia, and Brazil, via Eduardo Caba, Alberto Ginastera, Marvin Sandi, and Heitor Villa-Lobos, it also included a few selections by European composers Franz Liszt and Ferrucio Busoni. Folk influence was present in all, emerging as one aspect of what the concert’s promotional materials termed “the artistic dialogue between Latin American and European composers, exploring how they have influenced and inspired each other over time.”

More specifically, the Foundation for Bolivian Artists and Kantuta Concerts, founded and run by Bolivian compatriot Walter Aparicio (who for full disclosure also writes for New York Concert Review), has a mission to promote and expand awareness of Bolivian art and artists. From Mr. Aparicio’s spoken introduction to the concert, it was clear that Kantuta, now in its second year, is well on its way. A few audience members in the packed hall unfurled a Bolivian flag across their row to underscore just that, though the performances by Mr. Navarro-Silberstein accomplished as much through music.

The reader can find Mr. Navarro-Silberstein’s biography at his website (José Navarro-Silberstein), but to summarize, in addition to garnering some impressive prizes, his performances have taken him to Germany, the UK, France, Spain, Austria, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Slovenia, Croatia, Georgia, Lithuania, Chile and Bolivia. As a soloist, he has performed with the Jena Philharmonic Orchestra, Norddeutsche Philharmonie Rostock, Georgian Philharmonic Orchestra, La Paz Symphony Orchestra, Orquesta de Jóvenes Musicos Bolivianos, and Orquesta Sinfónica Juvenil de Santa Cruz de la Sierra. His debut CD “Vibrant Rhythms” recently released by GENUIN Classics and containing some of the same repertoire he performed at Merkin, has already received international acclaim.

After nearly two decades of writing music reviews (among other musical pursuits), it was a treat for this reviewer to attend a concert that included the work of several completely unfamiliar composers – in this case, the two Bolivian composers, Eduardo Caba (1890-1953) and Marvin Sandi (1938-68); for that awakening in itself, Kantuta is to be congratulated. The opening Caba pieces were beguiling in Mr. Navarro-Silberstein’s sensitive reading. We heard Nos. 1, 4, and 9 from the set entitled Aires Indios (de Bolivia) from 1937. No 1 was a gentle melodic piece, rather reminiscent of some of Grieg’s lyrical miniatures (or even MacDowell’s) in innocence and directness – though of course no country or composer has a lock on pastoral beauty. The second piece reflected more characteristically Latin rhythms, and the final selection brought to mind Ravel’s fountains and fourths. It seems plausible that Caba (who had studied in Europe with Turina – who had studied in Paris) may have absorbed some second-hand influence there. Anyway, it was fascinating to hear, and Mr. Navarro-Silberstein played all three persuasively.

To skip ahead to the other Bolivian composer, Marvin Sandi, we heard Ritmos Panteísticos, Op. 1a (1957) in the first half and In Memoriam (Homenaje a Caba), Op. 1b (1958) to open the second half. Both works of this short-lived composer were composed around age nineteen. In Ritmos Panteísticos, the opening movement “…de la roca” found the pianist enjoying the clashing sonorities that brought to mind Ginastera (as in the Danza del gaucho matrero). The second and third movements, “…de la luz” and “…de la luna,” conveyed the spaciousness one associates with the Andean landscape of the composer’s homeland – with still more tonal exploration,  and the final motoric “…del sexo” closed the set with insistent rhythmic drive projected powerfully by Mr. Navarro-Silberstein. The meditative In Memoriam (Homenaje a Caba) after intermission opened rather severely, with dramatic left hand octaves, but it melted into such soulful lyricism that one could only feel even sadder that the composer did not have many more years of creativity.

More familiar South American fare included  Suite de Danzas Criollas, Op. 15 (1957), by Ginastera and Ciclo Brasileiro, W. 374 (1936-1937), by Villa-Lobos. Mr. Navarro maximized the tenderness in the opening Adagietto of the Danzas Criollas and took us on a wild ride through the rugged turf of the Allegro rustico. He entranced us with the 11/8 meter in the third movement – and made further magic of the fourth, with its play of major and minor seconds that had one thinking of Bartók. He unleashed superhuman energy in the Scherzando – with the coda drawing cheers from the audience. The Villa-Lobos Ciclo that closed the program was similarly brimming with life. Highlights were the dreamily melodic Plantio do caboclo, the famously brilliant Festa no sertão, and the fiery Dança do Índio branco. Together they were an impassioned triumph.

Much of the South American music had a listener wondering whether the pianist would be equally at home in Liszt and Busoni, and the answer emerged as a “yes.” Though (at the risk of having to dodge tomatoes) this listener has never been a fan of the Busoni Indian Diary as more than a curiosity, with its mercurial shifts of eclectic material seeming rather alien to the folk motifs it is based on, but it was still fascinating to hear live – and not a common occurrence, so worth the inclusion (especially given the theme of transcontinental “dialogue” used to promote the program).

As for the Liszt Rhapsody No. 9, Mr. Navarro-Silberstein showed that no pyrotechnics are beyond his grasp – from coruscating runs to blazing octaves. In terms of style, it does seem that he may have missed the opportunity, in the moderato a capriccio, to establish a tempo that was slow and elastic enough to free up the whimsical right-hand elaborations without violating or straitjacketing the left hand, but such preferences always increase with familiarity (and this listener finds it hard to “unhear” a favorite rendition by Cziffra). In any case, Mr. Navarro-Silberstein can be extremely proud of what was an amazing feat – especially on a program that was already so demanding.

One suggestion for the next concert would be the inclusion of program notes, since, especially with a few lesser-known composers slated and the presenter’s mission of increasing awareness of Bolivian music, it would have been educational for the audience. Then again, it is possible that some inserted notes existed, but went missing in the folding, as there was spoken reference from the stage to some other information that was also not found.

Mr. Navarro-Silberstein rewarded a hearty standing ovation with two lovely encores, the first, a Bolivian folk song, and the second, Mihaud’s Corocovado from Saudades Do Brasil. It was a highly auspicious debut for an outstanding pianist who will be well worth following.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Carpe Diem String Quartet
Sam Weiser, Violin; Marisa Ishikawa, Violin

Korine Fujiwara, Viola; Ariana Nelson, Cello

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 27, 2025

The aptly named Carpe Diem String Quartet took the stage of Weill Hall at Carnegie this week to greet their excited audience, and they exuded just the kind of immediacy and energy that will draw new audiences to classical music – particularly to “new” music. Their program, all music of the 20th and 21st centuries, including a New York premiere and two world premieres, was brilliantly curated, but more importantly their playing itself communicated worlds of emotion – with a healthy measure of pure fun. They already have ardent followers and 20-year performing history (though interrupted by Covid and other events), plus a commissioning project honoring their 15th year in 2020 (called “15 for 15”); still, however,  they represent a “discovery” for this listener. It is a thrill to share that discovery, because anyone thinking of hearing or hiring them is destined to be grateful. You’re welcome.

To avoid rehashing lengthy biographies, our readers can visit their website (Carpe Diem String Quartet), but suffice it to say that all members of the quartet – violinists Sam Weiser and Marisa Ishikawa, violist Korine Fujiwara, and cellist Ariana Nelson – have fine credentials individually; what makes the group so special is their connectedness and shared musical passion. The title for their recital – “Interconnected” – was more than just a convenient catchall, but rather a message one could feel through all the music they played by composers Lomax, Kaminsky, Fujiwara, Satoh, and finally Prokofiev.

The charismatic Dr. Mark Lomax II, composer of the opening work Ubuntu (2023), was the first to come onstage, to introduce both the concert and his own piece in what was its New York premiere. He explained that, in the languages of Zulu/Xhosa, the “Ubuntu” philosophy is, “I am because you are, and because you are, I am.” He spoke about the need for humanity to connect, and the music itself supported his words with seemingly disjunct, but infectiously energetic, rhythmic motives all interacting to find one another, eventually uniting as the quartet played in harmony and unison (with a nice final touch of F major, like the Prokofiev, which would close the program). It was a sensational start to the program.

Laura Kaminsky, especially renowned for her groundbreaking work in opera, came onstage next to introduce the world premiere of her string quartet, Vanishing Point, commissioned by the Carpe Diem String Quartet. Dedicated to the memory of Chas Wetherbee, first violinist of the Carpe Diem Quartet until he passed away in 2023, it centers on the feelings in the aftermath of loss –  as the composer’s notes describe, “swirling emotions of loss, persistence, and hope.” As much as one expected that Ms. Kaminsky’s gift for the vocal and dramatic would shine through in her instrumental writing (and it did), nothing prepared one for the emotional impact of this quartet. Part of it was the dramatic structure. As she writes, “The piece begins with an extended trio, minus the first violin, with the strings starting from nothing and increasing in intensity, until, finally, they ‘find’ and ‘invite’ the first violin to join them, a quartet at last.” That sheer absence of the first violin was enough to crack one’s heart in two, but the plaintive solo cello followed by soulful viola utterances in the first minutes finished the job. One almost couldn’t recover to fully experience the “swirling emotions” that followed, but the fade to the end was perfect as a “vanishing point.” A well-deserved ovation elicited a bow from  Ms. Kaminsky and the quartet.

The final work before intermission, the world premiere of Korine Fujiwara’s Mosey could not have been better placed to bring everyone back to smiling. Inspired by the scenes at an airport of people moving in all sorts of individual worlds – with the two very different definitions of the “mosey” pace in play – violist Fujiwara wrote it for her own quartet colleagues, as a sort of musical metaphor for traveling through life. Full of humor (as she is in her comments and program notes), it lives in a language of folksy charm combined with a frenetic edge (bluegrass fiddling meets hints of Raymond Scott’s Powerhouse). All the performers ramped up the energy, complete with dizzy slides and percussion on the body of the cello, and the cumulative effect was dazzling. This is one of those pieces that all quartets will want to play – in the same way that Jessie Montgomery’s Strum has taken hold. Once again now, to any quartet players reading this: you’re welcome.

After intermission we heard Toward the Night, by Somei Satoh (b. 1947), known widely for his works using Japanese instruments and electronic music. First violinist Sam Weiser introduced it and spoke of it expressing the Buddhist idea of samsara or transmigration towards the next life. To quote the notes (which seemed to be by the composer, although it wasn’t clear), “after millions of years, the existence of mankind is beginning to sink into the deep dusk.” The music, accordingly, shifts glacially from each gentle dissonance to the next – at times conveying human pathos, at times an atmosphere vaguely ominous, and overall a sense of vast space. The quartet played it with meditative feeling – something that could not have been easy, given what Mr. Weiser had just prior to it remarked about the evening. He had said, “They say that a quartet is like a marriage between four people, and with the number of family and friends here tonight, many meeting for the first time, this really feels like our wedding.” It was a testament to this quartet’s powerful focus and emotional projection that the audience remained in what seemed a hypnotized state for the entire Satoh work.

As Mr. Weiser had also noted, much to the audience’s amusement, the Prokofiev is “not like that at all.” Indeed, Prokofiev’s String Quartet No. 2, Op. 92 (1941). is brimming with energy, and its Kabardinian folk themes and robust rhythms brought us back to the world of purposeful action, within more typically classical form and phrase structure. The quartet lit into it with gusto, and it was good to see that there was none of the myopic obsession with “purity” of tone that can plague string players at the expense of the right rustic feeling. The players at times lit into the piece with the delicacy of shovels and spades – and it was a joy. The audience was rapt throughout and burst into a standing ovation for the performers, joined by those composers present.

As many may know, reviewers are often the first to bolt for the door at a concert’s finish, but your reviewer was actually sad to see this one end – despite its ample length. It was so heartening to hear performers who are not merely “well-trained” but whose mission is to communicate. They created magic to inspire their listeners, and if they keep that up, they will be a much-needed gift to the music world.

I suggest that our readers, whether fellow quartets, music lovers, or presenters, grab any chance you can get to go hear them. And for the third time, you’re welcome.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Co-Founders of LSQ Music and pianists: Yimiao Fang and Tiehan Pan,

Guest Artist: Peiming Cai, baritone

Steinway Hall, New York, NY

January 31, 2025

Yimiao Fang and Tiehan Pan, as pianists, co-founders, and directors of Lincoln Square Music Management and Consulting (LSQ), presented a lovely concert at Steinway Hall last week that featured, in addition to their own performances, eight young pianists and guest baritone Peiming Cai. As the event took place two days into the Chinese New Year, Ms. Fang introduced the concert with some inspirational words about the spirit of renewal before contributing her own performance of Chopin’s F major Ballade (Op. 38), and the concert concluded with two Chinese songs, sung nostalgically by guest baritone Peiming Cai, with Mr. Pan at the piano. In between these adult bookends, what took place was not unlike the student recitals with which most pianist-teachers are familiar, with a mixture of adrenaline highs and some “teachable moments” destined to be discussed at further lessons. In that light, though I was assigned to give my professional review this concert, I will cast aside my “crusty critic” persona and wear the “auntie” hat, going light on quibbles, as these darling youngsters are years away from deciding whether to brave the rigors of life as professional musicians. (Also, for full disclosure, this concert is being reviewed on the basis of a professional video recording of it, not live attendance).

On the subject of group recitals, no finer description has been written than that by my good friend and colleague Alexandra Eames (Rutgers Pianists in Review), who wrote the following:

“Most musicians cut their teeth in group recitals, whether in their suburban teacher’s living room or community music school recitals. This is an awkward and nerve-wracking experience; one waits in the wings unsure of when he will have to step onstage and face the specter of inevitable comparison. To relax and find one’s stride in just one or two pieces is extremely difficult and the performer must go through the same physical preparations (dressing for performance, arriving on time, trying the instrument, etc.) as he would for a full-length recital. Often the most sensitive artists can be sabotaged by the endeavor, whereas the more arrogant temperaments barrel through their nerves.”

Considering such issues, this Steinway recital was well planned to be a New Year event, making each player part of a celebration, rather than the subject of an adjudicator’s checklist (e.g., memorization, polish, phrasing, dynamics, pedaling, articulations, balance, expression, etc.). Commentary from Mr. Pan was interspersed between performances, and generally these added off-the-cuff friendliness (though in some cases one felt sorry for the performer, waiting through introductory comments while onstage).

Of the young pianists, the first was Ziwei Xu, who imbued the third movement of Schubert’s Sonata in A major (D. 644) with amiable feeling. To do just the third movement of one of Schubert’s masterpieces is an unsettling proposition, as the movement’s magic connects to the rest of the Sonata, but young Mr. Xu took on the challenge bravely. There was no age or biography given for any of the eight young pianists, so one would have to guess at Mr. Xu’s age, but certainly his relatively thoughtful approach to this classic marked him as one of the more mature players.

Ethan Wong was the next promising performer, offering the Etude Op. 65 in F major (the 25th of 48 Progressive Etudes) by Carl Albert Loeschhorn (1819-1905). It was a pleasure to hear from a set of pieces we don’t hear too often these days, and Mr. Wong’s performance showed commendable poise and control for one so young. Undoubtedly, with time, the balance between melodic and accompanying material will be refined still further.

The next few works brought us into the twentieth century, starting with the Enrique Granados set of gems, Valses Poeticos, published in their second – completed – version right around 1900. Tingjun Chen played No. 6 from the set, showing real tenderness and dedication as he colored the work’s poignant harmonies. Occasionally he could have observed the rests more – but the overholding was certainly preferable to the opposite in this soulful piece. William (Mingzhen) Ma was next with two selections from Prokofiev’s Music for Children, Soir and March (Op. 65, Nos. 11 and 10 respectively). These performances stood out, first for the sensitivity in the beautiful Soir,and then for good rhythm and articulations in the March. Emma Magni added some Kabalevsky mischief to the mix with what was listed as A Little Joke (usually listed as A Little Prank), Op.27, No.13. She played with poise and confidence.

A French segment emerged next, as Jason Zhou played Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1, followed by Heaven (Mingxi) Ma playing Auguste Durand’s Valse No.1, Op.83. Mr. Zhou handled the Arabesque‘s challenges with aplomb for one so young. Though one imagines it will acquire more and more mastery with just a bit more attention to nuance and pedaling, it is well on its way. It was also nice to hear Mr. Ma play the seldom heard bonbon by Durand, a musician known not so much for his compositions as for his publications of Ravel, Debussy, and numerous other great French composers. Mr. Ma showed good skill in his fleet fingerwork.

The youngsters’ portion of the concert concluded with Mozart, as we heard Alma Zhang playing the first movement of the F major Sonata K. 332. She gave it an excellent performance for one so young, showing strong promise.

The final offerings, Chinese songs By the Waterside and China in the Lights, found LSQ Music Co-founder Tiehan Pan as the able piano collaborator with Peiming Cai, who lent his rich baritone voice to cap off the festivities. It was a shame not to have any biographical information of Mr. Cai in the program, as he performed quite well and was apparently substituting for the previously announced guest artist, Brenda Iglesias. Mr. Pan handled his part well, never overwhelming Mr. Cai but lending strong support. His background includes degrees from the Manhattan School of Music and studies at Columbia University and NYU, as well as performances in noted concert halls and participation at numerous festivals. His full-time accompanying of the studio of renowned mezzo-soprano Mignon Dunn certainly has prepared him well, and so these very accessible songs were “child’s play” for him.

It is never easy to be director, emcee, proxy stage-parent, speaker, and performer, all in the same concert, but both Ms. Fang and Mr. Pan were able to handle multiple roles. As co-founder Ms. Fang (neglected in this review thus far) opened the concert with Chopin’s Ballade in F major, Op. 38, one marveled that she could capture the mood so well after handling spoken introductions (in a non-native language) and what one imagines were probably last-minute questions and concerns from nervous children and their parents (plus recording issues and more). Inevitably, this would not be the scenario for an ideal performance – and indeed she faced a few issues, including some lost inner textures and lapses; that said, she captured much of the drama of her piece and set the tone of professionalism for what followed. She has good credentials, including various awards. Her biography includes studies with Prof. Yunjie Chen (who teaches at the Central Conservatory of Music) and degrees from the Manhattan School of Music (with Dr. Marc Silverman and Prof. Phillip Kawin), and doctoral studies at the University of Hartford (with Prof. José Ramos Santana). She has had concerts in important venues and participation in various festivals – as well as a strong record as a teacher herself. It is also clear that she is on a mission to support the love of music and advancement of young musicians, so congratulations are in order for this successful inaugural concert of her organization.

As the young performers stood on stage at the end to receive certificates, they beamed with pride, their hard work having born fruit. It was heart-warming. Congratulations to all!

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

The preeminent clarinetist Charles Neidich took time out of his busy day recently to chat with New York Concert Review about the imminent return of his extremely popular WA Concert Series and, what’s more, the creation of a new and innovative orchestra in New York, the WA Sinfonietta, with concerts in March and May under the auspices of the newly established Artena Foundation. Big things are afoot!

Classical music lovers need little introduction to Charles Neidich, as he has made his mark in New York and internationally for decades, performing with the world leading orchestras and ensembles, but we’ll summarize (and the reader may also visit his website, charlesneidich.net). Brought into prominence in 1985 as the first clarinetist to win the prestigious Walter W. Naumburg Competition, he is known not only as one of the world’s foremost virtuoso clarinetists but also as a musical visionary who also composes, conducts, edits, curates, and teaches (Juilliard, Manhattan School of Music, Mannes, and CUNY Graduate School). He can be heard on the Chandos, Sony Classical, Sony Vivarte, Deutsche Grammophon, Musicmasters, Pantheon, and Bridge labels, and most recently in the Mozart Basset Clarinet Concerto on historical instruments for Bremen Radio Hall Recordings.

New Yorker music lovers will undoubtedly be excited by the return of the WA Concerts (reviewed several times in New York Concert Review by this reviewer and others), but the news of a new orchestra, the WA Sinfonietta, brings the anticipation to a new level.  We are delighted to share with our readers his discussion of all this and more.

Rorianne Schrade: I understand you’re bringing back WA Concerts! I’ve heard several – including one last year – and they were fantastic, so I can’t wait!

Charles Neidich: Thank you very much. The WA concert with that we were going to start with is

March 9th at 3:00 PM, and that will be Wind Miniatures. Our program is not completely set, but there is a work with for clarinet and alto saxophone by Gabriela Ortiz, and then there are Three Sonnets for Woodwind Pairs by Elinor Armer  – and we’re filling it out with other pieces as well.

RS: Is this also at the Tenri Institute?

CN: Yes this will be at Tenri.

RS: I’m so glad you are returning … and do you have any other WA dates we can share with our readers?

CN: Well, basically, the bigger project that is happening is from our foundation which we have just started, which is called the Artena Foundation, and that is the WA Sinfonietta, which is an orchestra. So, I will conduct that, and this is the beginning of a larger project which will involve educational outreach and also opportunities for young people to play concertos with the orchestra as well …  but we’ll start this season with two concerts.

RS: This is fantastic! Please tell me more about those if you would – and also about the name Artena.

CN: Right. Artena is basically an acronym from art, technology, and nature.

RS: Ah, I see …  and I recall that the name WA itself also had a special meaning. For readers unfamiliar with the WA series, started by Mr. Neidich with his wife and brilliant clarinetist Ayako Oshima, WA is a Japanese word for a circle or ring symbolizing harmony, completeness, the continuity of past, present, future, and the unity of all of humankind. So Artena embraces this as well. And so you’re starting the WA Sinfonietta with two concerts?

CN: Yes and the first concert will be the evening of March 23rd, and that will be in the Good Shepherd Faith Church which is on 66th Street.

RS: Right near Juilliard …

CN: Exactly right, and this particular concert will take its meaning in a certain way from the concert which was October 25th, 1885, where Brahms premiered his Fourth Symphony with the Meiningen orchestra called the Meiningen Court Orchestra. The Meiningen Court Orchestra was considered to be the best orchestra in Europe, and it was Brahms’s favorite orchestra. Meiningen at that time was a tiny little town, but it had a Duke who loved music and was very close to all things which were modern at that time. He was also very close to Wagner, and many of the musicians from the Meiningen orchestra actually played in the Bayreuth orchestra also. That was the sort of gig that they did, the kind of extra work for that particular orchestra. Now, the Court Orchestra was very interesting, because it was a small orchestra of basically 48 players, so if they had needed something more, they would add let’s say extra brass or extra percussion, but basically it was that. You had basically nine first violins, nine second violins, you had let’s say five violas, four cellos, four basses in there, and double winds and brass. Brahms wrote his Fourth Symphony for this orchestra, and so in this concert that we’re doing, the makeup of the Sinfonietta will be like the Meiningen Court Orchestra. What is interesting about that is that, with the smaller number of strings, you have much more equal balance between winds and strings.

RS: I see .. very interesting.

CN: Yes, so that I look at the at the Fourth Symphony as a work which is in a certain sense almost in between orchestral music and chamber music, and it was this smaller configuration that Brahms actually preferred for this symphony, because when he premiered it at the Meiningen he was offered extra strings, but he declined the offer!

RS: That’s important to know…

CN: You see he wanted more equal balance between winds and strings, and what we hear first of all with that kind of orchestral setup even in the beginning of it is that what the winds play is actually an outline of the melody in canon. We never hear that. You see, so it’s quite beautiful in this way. I think it’s quite illuminating to play this piece that way. Also, what you can do is have much more flexibility in terms of tempo. And, if we read for instance the notes of Steinbach, a composer Brahms was very close to, he has notes about all the symphonies and we can see how he as he mentions about tempo and this kind of flexibility of tempo.

Now, one other thing with the Fourth Symphony which is going to be quite notable, I think, is that Brahms actually wrote a four-measure introduction and he was convinced not to include it in the publication, and I think it’s never actually been performed. There is an interview with George Szell where he talks about that a little bit, but I don’t think he presents it very convincingly. (The listener can hear Szell’s explanation here: George Szell and Brahms).  I actually think that the introduction gives a very different sense to the piece, you see, so it’s it becomes a little more like, for instance, in the second movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony – you have this A-minor chord and the winds that get softer, and then the piece starts after that – and I have the feeling that that may have been the inspiration that Brahms had. So, you have this, which comes out very strongly and then sort of goes back, and in the way Brahms wrote it, it actually starts in A minor then goes to E minor, then finally it keeps diminuendo-ing until the strings come in. I think that enables that opening melody which he writes as piano in the orchestra to really be piano.

RS:  What a difference… and I’m curious to know, because I know you’ve done a lot of conducting, have you done this particular Symphony this way before?

CN: I’ve never done it this way. I’ve actually conducted the Fourth Symphony but I never did that, but I think that especially going back, because we’re remembering the world premiere of the piece in 1885, maybe we can have a second World Premiere.

RS: A second premiere of Brahms sounds amazing! Are there other pieces on the rest of the program that you can share with us?

CN: Well, the program will be based on that concert from 1885, … and that concert started with the Mendelssohn Opus 32,  the Overture to The Beautiful Melusine, so we will start with that. In the concert in 1885, that was followed by the Brahms Violin Concerto – instead, I’ll play Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, and then we will end with the Brahms 4th Symphony.

RS: I can’t wait for that concert, March 23 – not to be missed. Now, can you also tell us a bit about the second concert, the one in May?

CN: Yes, so the second concert will be on May 13th.

RS: And is this second one also at Good Shepherd?

CN: No that’s going to be at the DiMenna Center. And this one will involve a smaller orchestra but it’s  going to feature first the Mieczyslaw Weinberg Clarinet Concerto, which is his Opus 104, which he wrote in 1970, and that will be an American premiere.

RS: Very exciting!

CN: Then, also the Weinberg’s Fourth Chamber Symphony, which is the last piece that he wrote, and that’s also I think its American premiere, though I’m not exactly sure, but I think it is. We will start that program with Shostakovich. There’s an arrangement of the Shostakovich Third String Quartet which Rudolf Barshai made. He was a great violist and the conductor and founder of the Moscow Chamber Orchestra, which I played in when I was a student in Moscow.

RS: Yes, I know that in the seventies you were there in Moscow on a Fulbright for three years.

CN: Yes …  and Barshai arranged the Third String Quartet for a Chamber Orchestra, and it has the name Shostakovich Symphony for Strings and Winds opus 73a. The Opus 73 is the quartet, and so they list this arrangement as 73a. This was supposedly given approval by Shostakovich, and it’s very well done. I’m very happy in a very nostalgic way to do that piece, because I played in the Moscow Chamber Orchestra, and I was fairly close to Rudolf Barshai, first as a student in Moscow. That was very interesting, because I was just an American student there, and I got a notice in the dormitory mailbox to please show up at this rehearsal. I had no idea, and I showed up and there it was, the Moscow Chamber Orchestra. I don’t know why and how, but he had I guess heard of me being there and maybe wanted a good clarinet player.

RS:  From what I’ve heard, you were much more than “just an American clarinetist” there … but more on that later…

CN: So anyway, this is also in a way kind of in memory of Barshai, as well as Shostakovich, that I’m doing that – and Weinberg. Weinberg was alive when I was a student there, although he was not living in Moscow, but I had no idea of his existence. He had been very much in Moscow and Leningrad (now Saint Petersburg of course), but he was completely … oh … canceled, I guess you could say. He was composing still, but he was not being performed at all and not even mentioned, his name. It’s very interesting … I think he was in Minsk, and maybe his music was played in Minsk, but not where I was at all, so I didn’t know of his existence.

RS: You’ve done so much to unearth music from composers who were canceled by the Soviets in that era. Can you tell us some more about that?

CN: It’s very interesting that Shostakovich had three major composers whom he in a way championed himself, and were sort of acolytes. Weinberg was the closest, and they were almost the same age I think, and they were really very much best friends. Weinberg, of course, had had a very tragic life and Shostakovich was not able to help him. Then the other one of course was Galina Ustvolskaya, who was considered to be his best student and his favorite student, and she totally broke with Shostakovich finally, even though they were very close, because she felt that he did not stand up for his principles with enough force. I think that she basically took herself out of circulation in a way, but her music is actually remarkable. The other composer’s name was Alexander Lokshin, and at least I was able to meet Lokshin. The reason why, although he was very much also kind of canceled when I was there, was that he had a few supporters, and Barshai was one of them. Barshai took me to meet him at his little apartment, and we had a whole afternoon together, very fascinating … a brilliant fellow, he was. Also we recorded I think it was his Tenth Symphony with Barshai, and so I played a solo clarinet part – there was a contralto clarinet, violin, and orchestra – so he had me play in that recording. So, I have a little more personal recollection and experience with Lokshin, but those three were the most important I should say followers of Shostakovich, and it was so interesting that they were really shunted it off completely to the sidelines when I was a student there, which actually was one year after Shostakovich’s death, and I don’t know why, but it was interesting.

RS I believe my first big exposure to Lokshin came through your WA concerts…  but this concert in May reflects more your exploration of Weinberg and Shostakovich.

CN: The Weinberg Clarinet Concerto was I guess you could say in a certain way rediscovered quite recently. Even when I was in Moscow I didn’t know of its existence, and he had written in 1970, so I  was in Moscow after he had written it. I asked friends of mine in Moscow when I found out about its existence – and I even went there a few times early in the 21st century and asked about it – and nobody knew about that piece. So it’s really more recently that Weinberg’s music has actually once again come to the fore, and his music is quite remarkable, I think.

RS: We need to know more.

CN: That’s right, and the Fourth Chamber Symphony, which is the last work, is very, very special in a way. So, the second concert will have the Shostakovich arranged by Barshai and the Weinberg Clarinet Concerto, and then we’ll end with Weinberg’s Fourth Chamber Symphony. That piece is so … it’s not tragic, but  there is something about it which is sort of not completely of this world. It’s a very remarkable work. Of course you know always the music from what was the Soviet Union time and the Eastern Bloc, the way the composers composed was very much like writing memoirs, which they wrote in music, like in a diary in music … and this has that sense of his life. There are all sorts of different things happening and then finally coming to terms with the end of life, in a way.

RS: This should be a monumental concert. Where else would we be able to hear such a concert led by someone who has delved so deeply into this music? I don’t want to change gears, and I would love to hear much more about this, but I meant to ask you about your own composing as well and everything else that’s going on. Also, are you going to record some of these?

CN: I’m hoping, and beginning in a certain way, to create a legacy, and I have been composing. It’s a slow process, because I’m doing too much teaching and everything else, but you know that’s not unimportant to do. So, I do have some pieces that are sort of in process now, and pieces which I have written already – and I’m also doing more editing. I  will start again to record, and in the not too distant future I’ll be recording the Brahms sonatas with the piano that Brahms played, and the clarinet which is his great friend Richard Mühlfeld played, and that will be with Robert Levin. We’ve had a history with those pieces and also playing them on so-called period instruments as well.

RS: So exciting … I would love to hear more about that. I also hope you record the Weinberg and all of these lesser-known works in May for posterity.

CN: That’s right, so we hope to have recordings. It’s always an issue, you know, you record from a concert, and then it’s an archival recording, so can we release it or can we not release it – there’s all that kind of problematic stuff,  but we will record them.

RS: A lot to look forward to … well, I’m tempted to ask you a million more questions, but if you’ll indulge me, one odd question I have is based on a story I’d heard back in the eighties, about how the Soviet musicians were mesmerized by your breathing techniques, something they were at the time not so familiar with…

CN: Well, that was what’s called circular breathing, and that was actually a very ancient technique, and it’s in Eastern classical music, whether it’s Indian music or Chinese or Japanese, the wind players always were able to do this. This circular breathing was even mentioned by the flutist who Bach knew and whom Bach wrote for named Pierre-Gabrielle Buffardin, who mentioned that he learned to circular from the glass blowers in Constantinople at that time, and of course the glass blowing you must do circular breathing because you have to keep blowing through the glass as you’re creating it – otherwise you have to start again, you see. So that technique is very ancient, and I actually believe that it was much more common 200 years ago, or even like 150 years ago, than it was recently, and there have been jazz players who did it, but in the clarinet world, at least in the modern clarinet world, I was pretty much, I think, the first person to do that.

RS: Meaning the first in the Soviet Union? or here?

CN: Maybe in general in classical clarinet. It’s possible there was someone else, but I’m not so sure about that. Nowadays this technique is much more common, but I actually see that I’m actually the root of that.

RS: I’m so glad to have followed up on that after so many years. Also, I was wanting to ask, after I reread about your degree in anthropology from Yale, how that may have informed  your musical life – and also what  advice you would give to younger musicians now, compared to, let’s say, in the 70s and 80s.

CN: I can just mention just very briefly about anthropology. So I was of a generation where I went to school to get an education to learn things, you see, and I didn’t have any sense that I’m going to school to get a profession… and I think this was maybe a wonderful time. I was not alone at that time, when I was doing that, so it was a much more idealistic, maybe naive, time that we had then. And so I did study anthropology, and then I studied philosophy. I majored in anthropology, and I think what I would say is just that it gave me a broader worldview, if not an understanding and interest in many different kinds of musics throughout the world.

RS: Well, that shows.

CN: Also, especially in philosophy, it’s how to think about things … and I think about what I would tell young musicians now. You know this is a difficult time. It’s much more difficult than when I was a student, I have to say. And you don’t know why there are all sorts of monetary problems, natural problems, climate change, and all sorts of social fabric around the world sort of cracking about, and I think that young musicians have to see themselves as advocates for the value of humanity, in a way, and have to sort of have that always in mind.

RS: “Advocates for the value of humanity”  – that is a powerful phrase to remember.

CN: That doesn’t help them get a job of course.

RS: No, that’s a different story (sigh)… we won’t go there.

CN: Nowadays, also in a way, musicians have to have a kind of entrepreneurial spark, so they can’t just be content with getting this position here or this position there. We have to reinspire a love of classical music, and it’s a big very big responsibility,

RS: Perhaps because you were not ever limited to a small practice room aiming to have a profession, you became more a citizen of the world. At any rate, you are a great ambassador for those wanting to learn about classical music. I always find your concerts thought-provoking. There are always patterns and themes, and that’s part of what is so enriching about them.

CN: Well, thank you. I always try for that, and I try to show that we can use classical music to connect to many different kinds of people.

RS: I also recall the amazing spreads after WA concerts… and for a while you all went virtual, and we were all so distraught missing the live concerts.

CN: You know the pandemic really did terrible damage to so much…

RS: Live music particularly …

CN: That’s right, because music is a communal art form. The idea of having food and music and different things, it’s just more difficult or scary to do now. You know, if we can emotionally come out of this in in a positive way – because I think we’ve come out of the pandemic in a very negative way in a lot of respects – then maybe we can start again with these kinds of more communal things.

RS: That’s a beautiful thought. I love that. I don’t want to rack this up, but that would be a good note to end on. I will close with just wishing you the very best in all these exciting ventures. I know they will bring yet another gift from you to the world.

For more information on the WA Concert Series, the WA Sinfonietta, and the Artena Foundation, please visit: artenafoundation.org

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY