Co-Founders of LSMMC 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, 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 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 on him in the program, as he performed quite well and was apparently substituting for the previously announced guest artist, Brenda Iglesias.

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 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, degrees from the Manhattan School of Music (with Marc Silverman and Phillip Kawin), doctoral studies at the University of Hartford (with José Ramos Santana), 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

Zeze Xue, pianist

Klavierhaus, New York, NY

December 28, 2024

Pianist Zeze Xue was the young soloist at Klavierhaus this weekend in a concert not to be forgotten and not apt to be duplicated. As background, I had reviewed Mr. Xue favorably in 2021 – once after a recital in Bruno Walter Auditorium and once for a compilation video celebration of the 85th birthday of his teacher Solomon Mikowsky (who left the world this March and to whose memory this weekend’s recital was dedicated). Mr. Xue’s performances were certainly impressive three years ago, but his wide-ranging and highly ambitious program for Saturday was an even more tantalizing prospect. The concert would open with J. S. Bach’s Italian Concerto and continue with Sergei Rachmaninoff’s sprawling set, the Moments Musicaux, Op.16. The second half was to focus on music of the United States from the 20th and 21st centuries, including works by Charles Tomlinson Griffes, George Gershwin, Samuel Barber, John Cage, and Elliott Carter.

Though the program was generous (lasting around ninety minutes), it never “wore out its welcome.” Spanning the gamut of pianistic styles, it was curated in such a way that it stimulated but did not tax the listener; it did, however, present just about every challenge a pianist could undertake, from the precise transparency of line in the Bach to the wide range of textures and emotions in the roughly thirty-minute Rachmaninoff set. The second half moved to different demands, starting with the coloristic nuance of the Griffes Three Tone-Pictures and continuing to the “Americana” and jazz styles in Barber’s Excursions and Gershwin’s Songbook. In complete contrast came Cage’s In a Landscape, requiring a sustained trance-like calm, and Carter’s Caténaires, demanding detached digital ferocity. Few pianists could cover such a massive range of repertoire convincingly within a single program, but Mr. Xue did just that before a grateful capacity crowd.

Bach’s Italian Concerto established a heraldic spirit as the opening. The first movement celebrated with robust sound and rhythmic energy. It was immaculate, with impressive clarity in each note. Occasionally, given the very bright instrument and resonant space, there could have been more moments of piano lightness, but the overall exuberance was welcome. The second movement introduced my only real reservations of the evening (admittedly personal ones), which centered on a desire for more sustained and shaped melodic lines. To this end – though many prefer Bach without much or any pedal (as it seemed Mr. Xue does) – just a dab here and there might have helped the arioso treble to offset the very uniform “footsteps” of the bass. There are countless approaches to Baroque music as played on the piano, but one credo is that the very act of playing it on a modern piano makes it, in a sense, a transcription, so (with due respect to early instruments) one might as well take advantage of all that a piano offers. In any case, it was devoutly rendered, and the final movement positively danced.

The six Moments Musicaux took the listener forward in time a century and a half to a ruminative Rachmaninoff – and to quite a different musical world. Mr. Xue was more than up to shifting gears, and he showed a stellar grasp of all the work’s demands. No. 1 in B-flat minor was poignant and doleful, soaring beautifully in the con moto section. No. 2 in E-flat minor exuded yearning with its corruscating chromaticism. The funereal No. 3 in B minor was heartbreaking in the stoic restraint Mr. Xue lent it, and No. 4 in E minor cried out with passion and brilliance – eliciting applause before the entire opus was over. No. 5 in D-flat major probably would have sounded more settled without having to follow that outburst, but Mr. Xue may need to get used to such applause in “regrouping” for the perfect autumnal mood; that being said, he conveyed much of its warm beauty. The final piece of the set, No. 6 in C major, was startlingly good – one of the best performances of it in memory. Your reviewer, a lifelong devotee of Rachmaninoff, will confess to normally disliking this one piece, which tends to display more muscle-flexing than the kind of imagination for which the world loves this composer (or was it haste to get the music to the publisher at this vulnerable time in his life?); in this concert, however, Mr. Xue gave it just the bravura ride it needs. He “sold” the piece in a performance of boundless energy and heroism.

Non-pianists may want to skip this next paragraph, but the Moments had a few curious readings (no, not finger slips, as one can tell the difference, and there are a few differing editions around). One was the left-hand chord in the cadenza of No. 1 (where there is usually a G-flat – m. 57), and one was in No. 2 (mm. 34, 37 where the melody generally returns to E-double-flats, and analogous spots). These are mentioned only because the likelihood of recording the entire set seems strong, and before doing so, there should be “no stone unturned” among editions (or, as violinists like to say, “no tone un-Stern-ed”).

Onward to the second half, more variety ensued. Mr. Xue mesmerized us with the lapping waters of The Lake at Evening from the Three Tone-Pictures, Op. 5, by Griffes, and – not far from the world of Debussy –  the impressionism continued with The Vale of Dreams, which was magic in Mr. Xue’s hands. The Night Winds closed the set with glistening sweeps.

Refreshingly, eight songs from the Gershwin Songbook followed – not in the more elaborate transcriptions one hears by Earl Wild and others, but in Gershwin’s own settings, quite effective as they stand (though this reviewer finds it hard to “unhear” Wild’s Etude on Fascinating Rhythm). Highlights were The Man I Love, which opened dreamily, a very playful Stairway to Paradise, and the finale, Strike Up the Band. The others –  Lady Be Good, Clap Yo’ Hands, Somebody Loves Me, and That Certain Feeling – were all excellent as well.

Mr. Xue continued to offer gems with Barber’s treasured Excursions. The riveting rhythms of the first, the nostalgia of the third, and the superb repeated notes in the hoedown fourth movement were all just right. The blues of No. 2 were quite persuasive too (though there may have been another curious reading in the treble around m. 26-7?).

As a complete break in style, next came Cage’s In a Landscape (1948). It is a gently drifting musical meditation of about nine minutes on a few repeating or similar patterns. In it, Cage captures to a tee the timeless floating style that one sometimes associates with his predecessor, Erik Satie, but which was to be explored more fully by minimalist (and “New Age”) composers starting around a decade and a half after this was composed. Mr. Xue hypnotized his audience with it and then blew us away with a dazzling finale, Carter’s Caténaires (2006). Bravissimo!

After a standing ovation and bow, Mr. Xue commented that he had worked very hard on this program and was glad that we had liked it. Several called out, “We did!” – and another followed with, “A LOT!” Considering that your reviewer had heard one of those very voices at intermission sighing that the second half was going to be “all modern music,” it seems that Mr. Xue performed an important service for his audience (and for new-ish music). As an encore, he gave a charming rendition of a Chinese folk song entitled, Why are the flowers so red?

Upon a brief browsing of Mr. Xue’s recent concerts, it appears that he has been performing a large range of substantial repertoire, including Bach’s Goldberg Variations, the complete Chopin Scherzi, and other massive solo works of Schubert, Scriabin, Albeniz, Ravel, and Rachmaninoff – including concerti – all apart from this weekend’s program. His career appears to be on the upswing, and deservedly so. Despite what we read in his biography about a teaching load of forty students, he is making his mark as a performer. One eagerly awaits his next concerts!

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

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!

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

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!

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

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.

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

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!

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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