The New York Philharmonic; Stéphane Denève, conductor

Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano

David Geffen Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

November 26, 2025

David Geffen Hall was filled to capacity on the eve of this Thanksgiving by listeners eager to hear – among other enticements – the New York Philharmonic with superb pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet under the baton of the dynamic Stéphane Denève. For this reviewer, it was one of their most striking, brilliantly played programs in recent memory. Combining music of Aram Khatchaturian – his Piano Concerto Op. 38 – with music of Lera Auerbach, Einojuhani Rautavaara, and Ottorino Respighi, the program itself was inspired, uniting a vast range of mythological, historical, natural, and emotional themes, all building to a powerful and uplifting finale.

Maestro Denève proved to be an intensely musical leader, showing a strong rapport with the orchestra and easy communication with the audience. He drew his listeners in by commenting on the works from the podium – though there were generally good printed program notes as well. To start, he remarked before the opening Auerbach piece that this program could have been named “The Augmented Orchestra” concert, as the scoring of each work extended well beyond traditional orchestral instrumentation. He briefly explained, while also crediting the instruments’ guest performers, who had been omitted from the printed program.

Starting with Lera Auerbach’s Icarus, Denève cited its remarkable inclusion of the theremin.  For those unfamiliar with the sound of this instrument, he asked for a demonstration from guest thereminist Rob Schwimmer (who chose to riff on an excerpt from the main theme of the television show Star Trek – to the delight of the audience). In addition, Denève noted, there would be Khatchaturian’s use of the musical saw, to be played by Dale Stuckenbruck in the Piano Concerto, Op. 38, with Jean-Yves Thibaudet. After intermission would be two works that incorporated bird songs into orchestral textures via recording, first in Rautavaara’s Cantus Arcticus, Concerto for Birds and Orchestra, using a recording created by the composer in 1972, and then in Respighi’s Pines of Rome, using bird sounds recorded decades earlier on a 78 recording (the exact one specified by Respighi to be used in the New York premiere under Toscanini in 1926). An imposing 1909 phonograph behind the winds had been lent to the New York Philharmonic for this occasion. It was just one way in which this entire concert wedded a rich musical history with the exhilaration of the new.

While such unusual scorings were certainly exciting to highlight for all present, the true excitement followed, thanks to the composers’ vivid conceptions and the performers’  impassioned commitment. The opening Icarus by Lera Auerbach evoked the ill-fated flight of the mythical character Icarus as he dared come too close to the sun. The work is based on material from her 2006 Symphony No. 1, premiered in its current version in 2011 at Verbier, and given its New York premiere at this concert. Though the program notes stated that Ms. Auerbach chose the title after the piece was composed, anyone present at this concert would now surely link the music inextricably with Icarus. One felt his initial urgency to escape earthly imprisonment, the chimeric rise, the ecstatic soaring, and even perhaps the melting of his wax wings in theremin waves near the final tragic plummet to earth. As Ms. Auerbach stated in her notes, “Sometimes I think that it is the law of gravity that truly defines our existence.”  This twelve-minute work conveyed that sense, and all that comes with it, from courage in the face of the unknown to glorious aspirations and hubris, from the inevitable fall to the reflections on both beauty and pain. It was a powerful experience, and Ms. Auerbach was present to take a well-deserved bow.

Though the Khatchaturian Piano Concerto (1936) is not a new work for the New York Philharmonic (having given its New York premiere in 1942 following its 1937 Moscow premiere), it enjoyed at this concert a long-overdue revisiting in the hands of the brilliant Jean-Yves Thibaudet. Maestro Denève announced Mr. Thibaudet as “the most American of the French pianists” (again to the delight of the audience) – but one wasn’t sure whether that was a reference to Mr. Thibaudet’s playing style or a certain wardrobe flair that brought to mind Hollywood (not far from where he is artist-in-residence at the Colburn School). His playing itself was free of sheer display, as he simply made short work of the tremendously challenging score, handling fiendish sections with suavity. Whether rapid-fire double notes, octaves or whiplash-inducing ritards after accelerandi – all in remarkable synchronization with the orchestra – Mr. Thibaudet was precise and indefatigable. The second movement was memorable for its bass clarinet lines, soulfully projected, and Mr. Stuckenbruck’s musical saw lent it all an otherworldly feeling. As the program notes reminded us, this work and others were “not instruments of musical propaganda” despite coming out of the early Soviet years, but Khatchaturian meant them as celebrations of Armenian culture.  Just two years ago, in fact, another outstanding performance of this concerto was reviewed by New York Concert Review, as passionate Armenian pianist Kariné Poghosyan performed it with the MidAtlantic Philharmonic Orchestra in honor of Armenian Independence Day. The New York Philharmonic’s last performance of it for some reason dates back to 1961, but after the tremendous response from this week’s audience, one doubts there will be another sixty-year hiatus. Mr. Thibaudet responded to the huge ovation with an encore of O polichinelo from Prole do bebê by Villa-Lobos, played with panache.

After intermission came Einojuhani Rautavaara’s Cantus Arcticus, Concerto for Birds and Orchestra, Op. 61 (1972), a favorite of this reviewer for over twenty years on the basis of a recording by the Royal Scottish National Orchestra (RSNO, Naxos 1999). It is hard to believe that this evening marked the New York Philharmonic’s first programming of it, but the magnificent performance it was given on this occasion will surely keep planners from waiting another half-century to include it again.

From its chromatic flute lines at the opening to the wind-like whistling and deep chant-like basses, the piece evokes a vast frigid landscape that is raw and melancholy as well as miraculous. The bird sounds are about as far as they can get from the Romantic sentimentalizing of, say, Henselt’s If I Were a Bird – these are birds that cry, wail, squawk, warble, and merge into a unified texture that inspires an awe of nature. When the audience can unite in recognition of such a landscape, the experience can be potent and life-affirming, and it was. Maestro Stéphane Denève gave his all to it, and the orchestra gave theirs.

Just when one thought nothing further could add to the evening, Respighi’s Pines of Rome (1923-24) capped off the program with its own its magic. The Pines of the Villa Borghese was jubilant and shimmering. The Pines near a Catacomb was doleful, yet regal, bolstered by the exceptional brass section. The Pines of the Janiculum found the sparkling piano part setting the tone for a moonlit night, and the clarinets were sublime in their lines – rivaled perhaps only by nature’s own “winds” – the birds via phonograph. Not far after the last heavenly strains of the harp in this third movement, one of the most glorious crescendos of music begins in The Pines of the Appian Way – and how glorious it was in this orchestra’s rendition!Trumpets emerged in the upper boxes drawing looks of wonder from the audience, as the other brass, percussion, and strings built to a majesty that simply exploded. What a great finale to a great evening!

There are still two performances left at the time of this writing – so I do urge music lovers to run, not walk, and hear one!

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

House Concert, New York, NY

November 13, 2025

It may be rare for a reviewer to be asked to write up a concert in a private home (as opposed to one in a traditional concert hall), but “house concerts” have long been a way of sharing classical piano music, and they appear to be enjoying an increase in popularity. Nearly two hundred years ago, composer and pianist Frédéric Chopin was one example of a musician who preferred to share his music this way, in fact giving relatively few public performances in standard concert venues. (Such a fact seems hard for many to process, given the scope of the composer’s renown during his life and beyond, but it was the case.)  It thus seems rather appropriate that, for a recent house concert given by pianist Ivan Gusev, the works presented were by none other than Chopin.

Mr. Gusev is a native of Kazakhstan who, after relocating to Russia at age four, started piano studies at age six and went on to distinguish himself at the Moscow Conservatory, where he received Bachelor’s, Master’s and DMA degrees with highest honors, having studied with Mikhail Voskresensky and Eliso Virsaladze. He has received prizes in Italy (the Mauro Monopoli Prize International Piano Competition), Russia (the Benditsky Russian Piano Competition and the Third International Neuhaus Piano Competition), and here in the United States (the 3rd Gershwin International Music Competition, the Dorothy MacKenzie Artist Recognition Scholarship Award from the International Keyboard Institute and Festival, the Chopin International Piano Competition in Hartford, and the New York Piano Festival and Competition). He also completed a Master’s degree at Mannes with Jerome Rose. Mr. Gusev has been reviewed by New York Concert Review on several occasions, quite favorably by this reviewer in a Mannes concerto prizewinner’s concert in 2017 and in his solo debut at Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall in 2018.

In this evening of all Chopin, he played a program that was thoughtfully constructed, with the largest work and finale being the Sonata No. 3 in B minor. Leading up to it were two Ballades (No. 1 in G minor and No 2 in F major), two Nocturnes (Op. 48. No. 1 in C minor and the Op. 37, No. 2 in G major, the latter opening the second half before the sonata), the Waltz in A minor, Op. 34, No. 2, the Mazurka in B minor, Op. 33, No. 4, the Étude in C-sharp minor, Op. 10, No. 4, and the Scherzo No. 3 in C-sharp minor, Op. 39. All were arranged with care in regard to either key relationships, continuity, or contrast. Though the word “curate” sends many cringing from its overuse, there is definitely an art to curating a musical experience, and Mr. Gusev excels at it. The audience was rapt.

The Ballade in G minor opened the program, inviting us into a world in which Mr. Gusev is clearly comfortable. One had the sense that this pianist has lived inside this piece and knows and loves every corner of it. The only real glitch (aside from minor smudges in the coda) was a missing phrase on the opening page shortly following the pitter-patter of a family pet who decided to enter, crossing between the audience and the piano to curl up right near the piano (only to be removed after the piece concluded). Mr. Gusev continued the musical poetry without the slightest interruption.

While house concerts can be among the most memorable and intimate experiences of shared music, they can also bring the sorts of issues that concert halls largely eliminate – whether crying babies, delays, clinking wine glasses, or even a sense of obligation to socialize before playing. Thanks to Mr. Gusev’s considerate hosts, there seemed few of these here, though this listener wondered whether another concomitant of such concerts might have been affecting the sound – and that is the nagging compulsion an artist can feel to politely subdue the music’s greater storms for such a gemütlich environment. Often during Mr. Gusev’s excellent performances – and they were, as one has come to expect, marked by special sensitivity and care  – one had a sense that he was holding back in the more dramatic sections and that he could have projected more contrast. Mr. Gusev has on several occasions struck this reviewer as a special artist, closer in understated spirit to, say, Richard Goode than to the flashy firebrands who abound these days; still, he may need to watch the tendency to be so self-effacing that some drama is lost. Sometimes an actual concert stage offers not merely physical elevation but the kind of elevation that encourages a separation from the realm of the everyday.

The Ballade No. 2 which followed enjoyed a beautifully conceived opening. Where the piano tone did not always sustain fully in longer notes (possibly due to the instrument itself needing a bit of voicing work), the pianist’s own sense of line and pacing sustained the life of the phrases. The left-hand “E” in the final chord resounded prominently in a way that pointed up the continuity to the opening of the subsequent Waltz Op. 34 in A minor, and in this waltz the pianist cast a musical spell of sorts. The audience refrained from applause afterwards, as they did following the beguiling Mazurka in B minor, the noble C-minor Nocturne, and even the brilliant C-sharp minor Étude. This latter piece was given an impressive ride, with exceptionally dry pedal for extra clarity. The first half then closed with the Scherzo in C-sharp minor, which found the pianist reveling more in Chopin’s full range of emotions and sonorities.

After a brief intermission, Mr. Gusev played the Nocturne in G major, Op. 37, No. 2, one of the most deceptively difficult of the Nocturnes to hold together. It was a joy to hear this pianist’s silken double-notes, particularly as he eased them gracefully into the piece’s Barcarolle-type flow, rather than heralding their entry as one hears all too often. He put the music first – a quality one would think should be a fairly obvious prerequisite for performing, though it isn’t always the case. There were moments when one wondered about various readings or editions (once in the F Major Ballade just before the stormy A-minor entry, once in this Nocturne before the second theme, and later in the Sonata’s second movement, trio section), but these questions became almost negligible within the overall experience.

One could predict that such a thoughtful pianist would handle the large Sonata in B minor well, and he did just that, managing to hold the sprawling first movement together quite convincingly. The second movement had the right leggiero touch and the Largo movement was extremely moving. The last movement was particularly successful and carefully planned from its measured start to its more impassioned finish. While one felt that there was still more power to unleash, one holds out hope that Mr. Gusev will bring this program to a larger venue with a concert grand soon. He will undoubtedly have a growing number of connoisseurs to appreciate it.

Meanwhile this audience was visibly thrilled and offered a standing ovation. He kindly obliged with an encore of Chopin’s Mazurka Op. 68, No. 2 in A minor – played with grace.

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

Ian Hobson, piano

The Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

November 7, 2025

A finale that was truly grand concluded Ian Hobson’s long-running New York cycle of Schumann’s piano works this weekend, as he played to a full house at the Tenri Institute. The program consisted of Schumann’s Piano Sonata No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 11, and his Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6. The concert was entitled “Florestan and Eusebius” – after the names of Schumann’s famously contrasting alter egos – the former being a bold adventurer and the latter, a more introspective dreamer. It would not be difficult to include much of Schumann’s oeuvre in a program named for these two spirits, but the title did seem especially apt here, particularly for the Davidsbündlertänze, which in its first edition actually had each of the eighteen pieces ascribed to either Florestan or Eusebius – in a few cases both. The printed program for this evening included these ascriptions, a helpful guide to the unfamiliar listener, along with the excellent program notes (as usual) by Paul Griffiths.

In addition to all the helpful notes, Mr. Hobson spoke at the concert’s opening, to welcome the audience and to introduce the first piece, the Sonata, Op. 11. Especially illuminating were his mentions of the third movement sections – from scherzo to waltz, pompous polonaise, Bachian interlude, and back – and on to the last movement, which he rightly described as “discursive” with all its twists and turns.

Mr. Hobson’s playing showed the same overview, and he was a sure guide through all of Schumann’s wide-ranging explorations. He seemed quite comfortable through the sonata’s most unwieldy challenges. Naturally, he has always been a pianist of all-encompassing technique and repertoire, so his mastery is never a surprise, but it seemed that there was some increased comfort this time, compared to prior recitals at Tenri, possibly attributable to raising the piano lid by only an inch or two, as opposed to full-stick or half-stick. Mr. Hobson announced that, in response to the condition of the instrument and the acoustics, the lid would be raised only by a book – and at that, a volume of Schumann, much to the audience’s enjoyment. All seemed much more manageable with this setup. Incidentally, that volume of Schumann was not needed for actual reading, as all was played from memory.

A word is in order on memory. Too much may sometimes be made of memory, and many pianists feel exasperated after pouring heart and soul into a performance, only to hear from listeners, “how did you memorize all that?” – as if that were the focus, and of course it is not. That being said, having heard Mr. Hobson play from memory most of this cycle, including around 1,600 pages of solo music (not even counting the chamber music), this reviewer has to say that for such an achievement alone, our admiration is warranted.

The sheer act of memorizing the lifetime output of a composer is also bound to affect the performer’s – and audience’s – perspective, sometimes altering the balance between a work’s idiosyncrasies and the general architecture and momentum. Though this listener has not always been an advocate of complete cycles in concert, it became clear through this one that Mr. Hobson, whom one thinks of as a supremely organized player, had found a certain order to the world of a composer who sometimes seems to defy organization. Though his interpretations were different from many performances I’ve loved dearly, in which the performer has seemed actually to inhabit Schumann’s world, living (and suffering) through each mercurial moment, there was a wise overview here, as if one of Schumann’s stabler friends were relaying the composer’s thoughts and feelings. Clearly Mr. Hobson is “friends” with all of Schumann’s quirks and dreams, and he presented them with spirit, directness, and a superb control of line and texture. The Sonata in F-sharp minor held together more surely than it often does, and where the very rare but inevitable glitches or smudges arose, they were swept easily into the flow of the music.

The Davidsbündlertänze, Schumann in some of his most ebullient writing, came after intermission. The sequence of short pieces felt utterly natural – holding together just as Paul Griffiths so artfully framed Schumann’s goal, “as much by contrast as coherence.” They gleamed like the tesserae of a large mosaic. Most memorable ones included the seventh, which on the first repeat felt not at all like a mere reiteration, but a deepening. The ending of the eleventh, Einfach, was particularly poignant, and the twelfth, Mit Humor, had just the right rambunctiousness complete with whimsical – almost perfunctory – ending. The thirteenth, Wild und lustig (with both Florestan and Eusebius alternating) had the perfect feistiness alternating with a quiet nobility, and the seventeenth was sheer heaven (apart from a slightly rough ending).

There were a few surprising interpretive decisions, such as in the fourteenth (Zart und singend), where one usually encounters a slower tempo along with its feeling of intimacy, but here it moved right along. As is often the case with seasoned artists, one simply had to wait for the reasoning to become clear in retrospect. In this case, more time was taken in its second section, and it thus made sense not to pile lingering upon lingering.

If there were spots that one might want to redo for an immaculate recording, those would probably include moments in the eighth (which actually had exceptional humor), the ninth, and the thirteenth. The third, fifteenth, and sixteenth seemed at times to lack Mr. Hobson’s characteristic ease, but any extra effort seemed to be geared towards spotlighting certain accents and patterns.

All in all, this concert brought many new thoughts on the piano works of Schumann – as did the entire cycle – tying together various “loose ends” of Schumann’s musical life for this listener. It was an education, and that comes from a reviewer with decades of hearing and playing Schumann’s music. Bravo!

On the subject of education, one can only imagine what good fortune it would be to study with Mr. Hobson, who, if asked “what Schumann have you performed?” could honestly now respond, “all of it.”

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

Internationally renowned violinist Zoltán Mága took the time recently to chat with New York Concert Review about his recent American tour. Mr. Mága has given concerts in nearly one hundred countries on five continents, playing for kings, heads of state, and church dignitaries. His materials state that he has played for President Donald Trump, Pope Benedict XVI, Prince (now King) Charles, Mohammed VI, the king of Morocco, and Konstantin II, the former king of Greece, as well as famous actors such as Robert de Niro and Salma Hayek, among other celebrities. He has performed with world-renowned musicians, including Didier Lockwood, Stéphane Grappelli, and Richard Clayderman, and has had countless television appearances, notably one from the Hungarian National Opera House that was enjoyed by viewers in 22 countries.

Rorianne Schrade (RS): Welcome Mr. Mága . We’ve read much about your illustrious career. Please tell us a bit more about yourself, how it all began, and what inspires you.

Zoltán Magá (ZM): I come from a dynasty of musicians — my father, my grandfather, and if we look back several centuries, every generation of my family has carried a deep love and respect for music. For us, music is not only a profession but also a heritage, a way of life, a spiritual calling.

I grew up in humble circumstances, but my parents did everything they could to ensure I lacked nothing essential for my musical development. We didn’t have money, but we had faith, love, and determination. My father was a musician, but he also took on physical labor to buy instruments, pay tuition, and provide me with opportunities he himself never had. My mother, quietly and selflessly, held our family together behind the scenes.

I began my journey in the Rajkó Orchestra, living in a dormitory, and as a child, I already understood that dreams must be fought for. While other children played, I practiced — until dawn, again and again. I knew I had to work twice as hard to get even halfway there. But I never saw it as a sacrifice, because for me, music was not just a vocation, but a refuge and a path.

I had no influential family behind me, no connections, no easy road — only my instrument, my diligence, and my faith. Yet I made it to the world’s most beautiful concert halls, royal palaces, and churches.

I believe that talent alone is not enough — it must be brought to life through hard work, humility, and perseverance. One’s origin, skin color, or social background should never be a barrier: the language of music speaks to everyone and connects us, no matter where we come from.

If my story gives strength to even one young person who is struggling today but still believes in themselves, then all the sweat, exhaustion, and sacrifice will have been worth it. Because for me, music has always been about this — the triumph of the human soul.

RS: We read that you’ve recently been in the United States on concert tour. We’d love to hear a summary of where you played, and anything you can share about what comes next on your concert schedule.

ZM: We embarked on a grand American tour with my orchestra, bringing the beauty of Hungarian music, the message of national unity, and the power of charity overseas. Our journey began in Washington, leading us through New York, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles, and concluding at the world-famous Carnegie Hall.

Our opening concert at the Kennedy Center in Washington was held in the spirit of Hungarian freedom, Christian values, and national pride, and was met with great international success. It was moving to see the audience rise to their feet in applause and to feel how music truly unites us Hungarians wherever we live in the world.

On October 23, the anniversary of the 1956 Revolution, we paid tribute to the heroes with our music at the Embassy of Hungary in Washington in the presence of Minister of Foreign Affairs Péter Szijjártó and numerous diplomats. We believe that the courage of the heroes of ’56 still teaches us today to preserve our faith, freedom, and national independence.

In New York, at the commemoration held at the United Nations in collaboration with the Consulate General of Hungary, we addressed the nations of the world through the voice of Hungarian music. It was deeply moving to see diplomats from nearly one hundred countries bow their heads together before the Hungarian heroes while our music carried the message of courage, gratitude, and freedom.

In Philadelphia, we performed at the historic Union League building, where Hungarian music reached representatives of American political, cultural, and diplomatic life. It was a special honor to receive an invitation to the celebration of the 250th anniversary of the United States, where we will once again represent Hungary and Hungarian art.

In Los Angeles, we gave a concert at the legendary Bel-Air Country Club to benefit victims of the wildfires. There we met our friends David Foster and Katharine McPhee, and new outlines of American-Hungarian cultural collaborations began to take shape. I also performed one of my dearest pieces, the hauntingly beautiful theme from Schindler’s List by the legendary John Williams. Wherever I perform around the world, I play it to remember – and to remind others – of the lessons of our shared history.

The highlight of our tour was Carnegie Hall in New York, where the audience gave us a standing ovation even before we stepped on stage. The proceeds from this charity concert were donated to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and we decided to contribute an equal amount to support Hungarian children’s hospitals as well, because we believe that help should begin at home.

The funds raised at the charity concert will be complemented by contributions from the Hungarian government and additional supporters, making the final donation substantial. I will return to New York on December 13 to personally present the total amount to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

At Carnegie Hall we performed a completely acoustic concert—without amplification—so that every nuance of the music could be heard purely, naturally, and full of soul. Pianist Brent Morden, the Budapest Gypsy Virtuosi, and my son Zoltán Mága Jr. also performed, and his playing received tremendous ovation.

During our stay in New York, we also held diplomatic meetings, including with the leaders of the Young Republicans of America, to discuss the future of Hungarian-American cultural relations. We were invited to the organization’s Christmas Gala, to which President Donald Trump is also invited. Overall, our American tour was not only an artistic success but also a profound human and cultural mission. We brought the message of Hungarian music, charity, and bridge-building between nations to the world’s greatest stages. For us, music is not merely a profession but a calling—to carry Hungary’s good name around the world and to show that the power of faith, love, and togetherness knows no boundaries.

RS: You are also the featured performer of Hungary’s largest annual New Year’s Concert. Could you share more about this?

ZM: On January 1, we will hold the Budapest New Year’s Concert for the eighteenth time. Over the years, it has become one of Hungary’s and indeed Europe’s most significant cultural events. During nearly two decades, this concert has provided not only an exceptional musical experience but has also grown into a true national tradition and a moral message. The motto of this jubilee year—“Together for 18 Years!”—perfectly expresses what we aim to convey each year: the importance of peace, unity, shared values, and national cohesion.

Throughout the years, we have performed alongside world-famous artists and multiple Grammy Award–winning musicians who are at home in the greatest concert halls around the world. Our guests have included David Foster, the sixteen-time Grammy Award–winning producer and composer, and Katharine McPhee, the American singer and actress with whom we have performed several times. We are proud to have shared the stage with Ramón Vargas, the world-renowned Mexican tenor; Aida Garifullina, one of the brightest stars of Russian opera; and Sheila, the American pop icon—all of whom have contributed to making our concert a truly international event.

Of course, the greatest figures of Hungary’s artistic world also celebrate with us every year—Kossuth Prize-winning singers, musicians, and actors—without whom the concert would not be complete, either musically or emotionally. They are the ones who represent Hungary’s cultural values with dignity, and whose talent and dedication elevate the splendor of the evening time and again.

For us, the New Year’s Concert is not merely a grand musical event but a mission: to convey, through the power of music, the beauty, spirit, and message of peace of Hungary to the entire world. Each year, we strive for our audiences—both Hungarian and international—to feel through music what faith, love, and togetherness mean to us.

RS:  And to return to your American tour, let’s hear some more recollections about that.

ZM: One of the most defining experiences of my life was this year’s American tour, which led from Washington through New York to Los Angeles, carrying with it the message of Hungarian music, love, unity, and charity to some of the world’s most prestigious stages. I am deeply grateful that, as a Hungarian artist, we could once again conquer America — and even more grateful that through the power of music, we were able to build bridges between nations and between people.

RS: And can you share some more specific recollections, as you played in Washington, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and New York?

ZM: Washington:There was a message of freedom and national unity in Washington. The first stop of the tour was the Kennedy Center in Washington, where we performed before a fantastic audience. It was a deeply moving experience to represent Hungary, the Hungarian spirit, and the message of freedom and Christian values at one of the world’s greatest cultural institutions. Ambassador Szabolcs Takács welcomed the audience, praising not only the international stature of Hungarian art but also the cultural and human mission that my music represents. After the concert, the audience expressed their appreciation with a long standing ovation – I felt that with every note, we carried the heart of Hungary to Washington.

As I said then, “At the Kennedy Center, music once again united us. Every note carried the message of the Hungarian soul — the power of faith, love, and patriotism.”

On October 23, it was a great honor to perform at the Embassy of Hungary in Washington in memory of the heroes of the 1956 Revolution and War of Independence. Among the attendees were Minister of Foreign Affairs and Trade Péter Szijjártó, American secretaries, ambassadors, and diplomats — representatives of numerous nations from around the world. As I said that evening: “The courage of the heroes of 1956 continues to teach us that we must always preserve our freedom, our faith, and our national independence — peacefully, yet resolutely.”

New York: The highlight of the tour was Carnegie Hall, where it was once again an honor to perform on one of the world’s most iconic stages. The audience rose to their feet as I stepped on stage — a moment I will never forget. It was also a great joy that the concert was entirely acoustic, without amplification — the music resonated sincerely, purely, and with soul. Sharing the stage with me were pianist Brent Morden, the Budapest Gypsy Virtuosos, and my son, Zoltán Mága Jr., whose virtuosic performance received a standing ovation.

Also, in cooperation with the United Nations and the Consulate General of Hungary, I had the privilege of performing a commemorative concert marking the 69th anniversary of the 1956 Revolution. Ambassadors and diplomats from nearly one hundred countries’ permanent missions to the UN were present – it was the first time such a wide international community paid tribute to the Hungarian heroes. There, at the UN, while I played, I felt that Hungary’s voice was speaking to the world – through the language of music, the voice of freedom, faith, and gratitude. As I said then: “Music is the language of the soul that transcends all borders. Today, Hungary’s voice was a message of gratitude, respect, and freedom to the nations of the world.”

During my stay in New York, I also met with Stefano Loudarus Forte, President of the New York Young Republicans, and Vice President Brent Morden. Our discussion centered on strengthening Hungarian–American cultural relations and on the nation-building and value-preserving role of art. I was invited to the Young Republicans’ Christmas Gala, to which President Donald Trump himself is also invited.Az űrlap teteje

Editor’s note: The New York Carnegie Hall Concert of Mr. Zoltán Mága was organized by the Liszt Institute New York.

Philadelphia: We brought Hungarian music to the heart of American history – Philadelphia. Philadelphia, the historical capital of the United States, was a particularly special venue for me. We performed in the elegant building of the Union League, America’s first Republican club, where we presented Hungarian music to the American political, diplomatic, and cultural elite. I vividly remember how uplifting it was to stand in the place where America’s freedom was born and to serve the ideal of unity through the sound of the Hungarian violin. Earlier, I had the privilege to play personally for President Donald Trump, who spoke with great appreciation of Hungary, the Hungarian people, and Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. He said: “Your Prime Minister is a leader who bravely stands up for his country, for peace, and for Christian values — setting an example for all of Europe.” In Philadelphia, I felt once again that music builds bridges between our nations.

Los Angeles: In Los Angeles, at the legendary Bel-Air Country Club, I performed before world-renowned producers, artists, politicians, and diplomats. The evening was held to support the victims of the wildfires, once again showing the power of unity through music. It was a joy to reunite with my friend, sixteen-time Grammy Award-winning producer David Foster, and singer Katharine McPhee.

During our conversations, new opportunities for American-Hungarian cultural collaboration began to take shape, and I received an invitation from Lance O’Connor, the owner of Minted Content, to take part in next year’s even more extensive American tour. I am grateful to be able to present the beauty of Hungarian music in a world-class setting. I firmly believe that music is the most beautiful bridge between nations.

RS: And clearly charity is an important part of your activities. Please share anything else you’d like to about your extensive charitable work.

ZM: About my charitable work, looking back over the past decades, I can proudly recall that I have given nearly one thousand charity concerts, through which we have been able to provide assistance worth several million dollars to those in need—both in Hungary and beyond its borders.

As I mentioned, all the proceeds of my concert at Carnegie Hall were donated to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and as I announced: “Whatever amount of donations was raised here in America, I will match with an equal contribution to support Hungarian children’s hospitals, from the proceeds of the Budapest New Year’s Concert. Because we must first help at home, in Hungary — and from there, wherever we can around the world.”

RS: Thank you so much for sharing your time, experience, and feelings with us today – and with our readers.

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

James (Zijian) Wei, piano

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 26, 2025

One of the joys of reviewing in New York is seeing a rising talent from another country blow into town with boundless enthusiasm and gifts galore, and such was the case this weekend with the Zankel Hall (Carnegie) recital of Chinese pianist James (Zijian) Wei. Mr. Wei is the 2024 Mixon First Prize winner of the Cleveland International Piano Competition (CIPC), and the presentation of this important concert by Piano Cleveland was among his generous prizes. 

As anyone witnessing the proliferation of competitions can attest, few performers win an award without vying for a dozen, but to succeed in multiple competitions says something about a performer’s drive, broad appeal, and the stamina needed for a career. Mr. Wei’s distinctions have been many, including the First Prize in the 2017 Changjiang Cup National University Piano Competition, the Grand Prize in the Professional Category of the 2018 Huanglong Music Season Piano Competition, First Prize in the 2018 Jianfa Gulangyu International Piano Competition, and Third Prize in the 76th Geneva International Music Competition, as well as the receipt of the Rose-Marie Huguenin Award in 2022. In addition to being the 2024 Mixon First Prize winner in the CIPC, he won CIPC’s Best Chamber Music Performance Award, Henle Verlag Urtext Special Prize, Audience Choice Prize, and Young Judge Prize. Mr. Wei has also played with quite a few orchestras, particularly in China, where his teachers have been Jay Pengjie Sun, Liu Xi, Galina Popova, and, since 2016, Danwen Wei at the Central Conservatory of Music. Based on the snippets of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3 and others that this reviewer has heard from young Mr. Wei (just 26 years old), he excels as a passionate concerto soloist, which is a good thing, as he is apt to have a full plate of those. Sunday, though, he was a recitalist, and he impressed as a performer with much to say.

Mr. Wei burst onto the stage of Zankel Sunday with enormous energy, and his excitement was infectious. Though his first half was solidly from the classical era –  pairing Mozart’s Piano Sonata in A major, K. 331 (yes, the one with the Rondo alla Turca last movement) with Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 101 (also in A major) – the second half would offer contrast with Scriabin’s Sonata No. 5, Op. 53, Barber’s Excursions, Grainger’s Ramble on the Love Duet from Der Rosenkavalier of Richard Strauss, and Ravel’s La Valse. It was apparent from the start that Mr. Wei is a pianist who enjoys adventures and extremes. 

Mr. Wei took a quiet moment of meditation before his Mozart, as if for something sacred (which, after all, music is), and he began with an ethereal tone one rarely hears in this first movement. He lavished each phrase with affection, flexibility of tempo and the occasional left-preceding-right luxuriance. Some call such a style over-Romanticized, self-indulgent, or precious – and this reviewer too generally prefers a bit more restraint – but it was hard to resist Mr. Wei’s emotional responses. 

Mr. Wei’s Mozart also reflected a sense of liberty that was striking in this oft-played work. Surprises abounded, from the first movement’s elaboration added in the repeat of the fifth variation, taking us at one point up to the modern piano’s highest D (which of course did not exist on Mozart’s instrument) to his quiet end to the movement – the opposite of the robustness one expects. It was clear that Mr. Wei is a performer who goes his own way. The Menuetto was memorable for its spirited operatic contrast, and the Rondo alla Turca enjoyed delightful articulations and nuanced dynamics from one iteration to the next. In fact, one wished he had observed all the repeats later in the movement, but he seemed focused on driving the momentum to the boisterous finish (for which he took the left hand chords an octave down). The audience seemed enthralled. 

There was a slightly more reverent approach to Beethoven’s Op. 101, and it was welcome in this shining masterpiece. Mr. Wei projected all the warmth of its opening movement and all the energy of the subsequent march. Much of the Adagio was simply sublime, and the mastery shown in the last movement’s challenging fugato was admirable. 

The program after intermission was a dream for such an extroverted pianist, starting with Scriabin’s Piano Sonata No. 5. Your reviewer has actually never heard this piece’s opening attacked with more savagery. The ride that followed was wild, with Scriabin’s own eccentricities magnified by the pianist’s own uniqueness. The languido moments were like perfume, and the volando sections seemed to take literal flight. It was brilliant, and all seemed improvised from the pianist’s own spirit and prodigious technique. 

The Barber Excursions that followed were excellent overall, though this reviewer, having some strong attachment to these pieces, found some unsettling surprises, one arising rather conspicuously in the third piece. The lay reader may want to skip to the next paragraph, but suffice it to say that the groups of seven at mm. 49-55 were played with the second quarters of each measure becoming eighths in what then resembled an ordinary 6/8 meter. Unless there is some edition out there unknown to me, that interpretation strays beyond “liberty” into the category of a misreading. It may sound picayune, but much of the heraldic joy of the piece stems from this section’s first two quarters being equal in each measure – which can be achieved simply by counting to seven eighths. The final rustic movement was charming.

Every recital is enhanced by the inclusion of a rare gem, and that gem here was Percy Grainger’s marvelous Ramble On The Last Love-Duet, arranged from Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier. Its lush harmonic language was magical, and it made a perfect transition to Ravel’s La Valse, which closed the program. In La Valse, as if all were not virtuosic enough already, Mr. Wei added octaves where many pianists struggle for just single notes. Despite the occasional glitch (and for this musician an occasional longing for a bit more waltz continuity), it was a tour de force, greeted with a long and excited standing ovation. 

Two encores followed, first Wencheng’s Autumn Moon on a Calm Lake popularized notably by Lang Lang some years ago) and then the beloved Schumann-Liszt Widmung. Both were lovely additions to an exciting afternoon. Kudos go to Zijian Wei and to Piano Cleveland!

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

Rachel Youngberg Payne, Mezzo-Soprano, Jack Tyndale-Biscoe, Piano

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 26, 2025

A completely delightful concert took place this Sunday, the New York Debut at Weill Hall of Duo Atlantis, a collaboration between mezzo-soprano Rachel Payne and pianist Jack Tyndale-Biscoe. The program, entitled “Echoes Across the Atlantic” blended British and American art song, including music of Edward Elgar, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Benjamin Britten, Muriel Herbert, and Bear McCreary (b. 1979) from the UK, plus selections by Samuel Barber and Aaron Copland representing the US. This duo connected much more than the two already-related cultures. Drawing inspiration from the ocean between the two, plus the shared human experiences of  “travel, love, memory, and humanitarian stories” (as their Carnegie summary states), they communicated with each note, connecting with their audience and reminding us how deeply we all are connected. It was a thoughtfully conceived program to make us laugh, cry, dream, and wish. All of that would mean little, though, if they had not performed it superbly as musicians – and they did indeed.

Opening with two selections from Elgar’s Sea Pictures, Op. 37, the duo set a haunting tone first in Sea Slumber Song, starting with Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe’s atmospheric piano introduction. It is usually a matter of just a minute or less before this reviewer finds a nit to pick with singers, but Ms. Payne started off beautifully and continued so, with a pure and rich tone, true and focused intonation, and thoughtful and communicative phrasing. Any vocal imperfections were transmuted by the alchemy of her expressiveness. She clearly shared in the intensity of the piano part as well, “living” each entire piece, not just her part – which ought to be the norm, but one sees the opposite all too often! Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe, showing consistent mastery, drew no attention to himself, simply serving the music and realizing it expertly. His piano introduction to the next Elgar selection, Where Corals Lie, picked up the pace and captured just the right restlessness.

The next pieces were a wonderful surprise, which this reviewer can’t recall ever hearing in concert: selections from Children’s Songs by Muriel Herbert (1897-1984). Ms. Payne announced them as “charming and disarming” – and they were just that. Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe didn’t miss a trick in setting the tone for – and punctuating – these miniatures, each one finishing in a wink. We enjoyed the whimsy of Merry-go-Round,the acrobatics in the growing of The Tadpole, the happy affirmation of differences in Jack Spratt and finally The Bunny, which was simply adorable. At one point in the concert Ms. Payne mentioned from the stage that she has children to whom she sings, and it does seem that such basic musical directness is an integral part of her magic onstage.

Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe spoke eloquently to introduce the next works and he more than lived up to his tantalizing descriptions with his playing. The duo gave a dreamy reading of Samuel Barber’s Nocturne from Four Songs for Voice and Piano, Op. 13, and then crossed the musical ocean to perform two selections by Ralph Vaughan Williams, his Let Beauty Awake from Songs of Travel and Silent Noon from The House of Life. The “poetry and philosophy” that Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe had spoken about in these songs were both evident to a poignant degree, with both musicians savoring the warm and wistful creations.

Not a duo to avoid humor, they delighted next in Benjamin Britten’s Calypso from Cabaret Songs, a musical “race” to get to a train station, appropriately here, Grand Central. It was all that Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe had described it to be- “playful, ironic, and theatrical.”  Lest we grow too lighthearted, two of Copland’s Old American Songs followed to bring us to tears, The Little Horses and At the River, closing the first half with further reminders of children and community – both themes at the center of the premiere after intermission.

The second half of the program was devoted to the world premiere of Dragon’s Blood:  A Four-Part Song Cycle for Voice, Piano, Harp, Cello, and Percussion composed by Emmy-winning (and, in the UK, BAFTA-winning) composer Bear McCreary. Set to a heartbreaking text by screenwriter J.D. Payne, the song cycle spotlights the impact on children of cobalt mining in Congo, using a “dragon” in a cave as a metaphor for the harm that can come to children from such work. Incidentally, the concert was co-sponsored by Floodlight, an organization involved in promoting ethical industry practices, and the performance of this song cycle certainly made a powerful statement towards that end.

It was not as radical a shift as one might think from the first half’s music to this troubling story, as thoughts of children were already in the air. In fact, for an audience immersed just moments before in Herbert’s carousels and Copland’s “little horses” lullaby, the descriptions of an innocent young Congolese boy with dreams of sunlight and warm bread were simply devastating. Mr. McCreary’s score, an immediately accessible and colorful one, was conveyed with all the agony of the situation, but also with some hope in the final rallying cry to the community. The Atlantis Duo was as powerfully communicative as ever, responding to the text and music with just the right sensitivity and drama.

Credit to the cellist, harpist, and percussionist should not be omitted. The harpist Karen Tay helped evoke the beauty of childhood, while the cellist Wangshu Xiang created the ferocious growls of the titular dragon. Grace Goss on percussion added intensity throughout. If any of these names are incorrect, that is from a hasty search to find out who they were, as they were not listed on the program (with surely some administrative glitch responsible). Anyway, the overall effect was potent, and undoubtedly the audience was moved to learn more and to do more. An encore of Mahler’s Urlicht capped off the recital, with a panel discussion on the Dragon cycle to follow, to delve into it all further. Sadly this reviewer could not attend, but it did seem that no further words were needed after such a moving afternoon of music.

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

Performers and composers presented by the Mayflower Art Center:

Joanne Kang, Foo Jeng Wong, and Maxwell Lu, piano;

Yeji Pyun and Sara Salomon, violin; Clara Cho, cello; Daniel Lamas, viola;

KaiChen Cheng, flute; David Valbuena, clarinet

Youngwoo Jeon and Yoon Sang Timothy Cho, conductors;

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

October 25, 2025

An evening of music by twelve promising – and in several cases much-lauded – young composers took place this weekend at the National Opera Center as part of the 2025 MusicON Festival under the auspices of the Mayflower Art Center, an organization offering education and support to young aspiring musicians. As the three-day festival was held from October 24th to October 26th, and this reviewer only attended the October 25th concert, a reader wanting to grasp the full scope of the festival will be able to find more about the other evenings by other reviewers at this site.

Meanwhile, as co-hosts Tianzhe Chen and Emily Bai announced at the concert, MusicON is in its fourth year, having worked with musicians of twenty countries and regions, featuring more than fifty performers and presenting 141 musical works. This year’s offerings featured thirty-eight composers, including six finalists in this year’s MusicON International Composition Competition, eleven works by invited composers, and twenty-one compositions by students of the Mayflower Art Center. Though Saturday’s concert included “only” twelve works, there was a dizzying amount of information to process, including which works were composed by those designated as Guest Composers, Honored Graduates, Emerging Composers, or Finalists of this year’s competition. Sadly there were no biographical notes on anyone, nor any program notes on the music, but more on that later.

Starting with highlights, one work will linger in this reviewer’s mind, and that is a piece called Syriac Fugato 2 by young Lebanese composer Sami Seif (Finalist in this year’s competition), as performed by Yeji Pyun on violin and Daniel Lamas on viola, both of whom performed standing up for the first time in the evening. The piece resembled a vocal improvisation passed between the two instruments, sometimes with strained hoarse sounds suggesting moans or crying out, but conjuring an overall sense of desolation throughout. There was effective use of  a wide range of techniques – from bouncing bows and tremolos to microtones and slides – but it was the focus on a single tone, departure from it, and return (with humming at its close from the violist) that helped give the piece its compelling unity and humanness.

Another piece memorable for its sheer sense of adventure was Jetlag  by Yiming Jia (Honored Graduate), performed by violinist Yeji Pyun, cellist Clara Cho, and pianist Foo Jeng Wong. Synchronized sweeping string slides against the rather jazz-infused piano part – along with several rapid tempo changes – gave the piece a disorienting effect one can only assume was meant to evoke the title condition. The overall impact was dreamy and humorous at once.

Among pieces one may need to hear twice to fully fathom was the closer of the program, Two Islands, by Fabian Leung (Honored Graduate). It overflowed with lush harmonies, interesting ideas, and contrasting styles, perhaps a few too many for this listener to assimilate in one hearing, but it was certainly brimming with energy and potential. As with all the works on the program, it was given a dedicated performance by skilled musicians – here, pianist Joanne Kang, violinist Yeji Pyun, cellist Clara Cho, flutist KaiChen Cheng, and clarinetist David Valbuena, with Yoon Sang Timothy Cho conducting (yes, due to the rhythmic challenges in much of the music on the program there were conductors listed even for some trios and quartets).

One comment on the overall concert was applicable here, that though it seemed there was much happening in the music, the listeners were left in the dark, figuratively speaking. It would not be too much “spoon-feeding” to illuminate the performances with some ideas of what each composer intended in each work (as audiences still benefit from program notes for music in very well-known styles, after all). Several composers were in attendance, and a few words from them (or printed notes) about their inspiration could have guided the listeners’ ears through some of the unknown territory.

Moving to the many other works on the program, there was as the opener, Silence Of Lost Songs in Extinction by Xinze Shi (Emerging Composer), played by pianist Joanne Kang, violinist Yeji Pyun, and cellist Clara Cho, with conductor Youngwoo Jeon (the latter whom at that point I could not see, before moving from the back of the hall). The performers navigated its mercurial shifts well, from the acerbic opening dissonance to more tonal glimmers from the piano, and on to quasi-Baroque sections, presumably among the “lost songs” to which the title refers.

A Short Conversation Without Words by Winston Schneider (Guest Composer) found pianist Foo Jeng Wong, violinist Yeji Pyun, cellist Clara Cho, and clarinetist David Valbuena wending their way persuasively through the piece as it developed from an expressive opening clarinet solo to more ominous and searching interchange.

Water Makes Many Beds I by Olex Li (Emerging Composer) was also rather cryptic, but the title seemed appropriate for some of the flowing, quasi-impressionistic sections. Pianist Joanne Kang and violist Daniel Lamas captured a floating feeling at times. Showing still more aquatic inspiration was Cerulean Cascade by Albert Lu (Emerging Composer). Though the music did not overtly convey a sense of the work’s title throughout, it explored numerous appealing effects from slides in the strings to flutter-tonguing in the flute part. The players – pianist Foo Jeng Wong, violinist Sara Salomon, cellist Clara Cho, flutist KaiChen Cheng, and clarinetist David Valbuena, seemed to handle their parts well, and conductor Yoon Sang Timothy Cho kept the flow with a solid beat in what seemed to be some metrically nebulous writing.

The Tree Has Seen Nothing by Cyrano Jett Rosentrater (Guest Composer) set up an interesting mystery of pleasant and contrasting sounds, though, as with other selections, one could only guess at the composer’s intent. Flutist KaiChen Cheng, violist Daniel Lamas, and guitarist Luis McDougal built it from its placid opening to a shrieking peak, before it receded into a gentle ambling guitar part and fadeout to the flute’s final quavering.

Fi by Maxwell Lu (Honored Graduate) found the composer serving as pianist himself, along with clarinet Jefferson Sheng. The word “Fi” means quite a few things, so again it would have been great to have some guidance via program notes. The innumerable repeated treble notes in the piano found the able clarinetist adding his lines to the texture and joining in exploration before the return to the high treble repeated notes. Crack by Sofia Jen Ouyang (Guest Composer) possessed yet another title with many meanings. Pianist Foo Jeng Wong joined cellist Clara Cho and David Valbuena on bass clarinet. The piece was filled will interesting effects from its explosive opening through to the end.  More furious repeated notes were heard in Torque by Asher Lurie (Finalist), performed by pianist Foo Jeng Wong, violinist Yeji Pyun, and cellist Clara Cho. The exploration of subtly changing rhythms along with gradually expanding intervals was intriguing. One could almost imagine the rotational tension suggested by the title.

Tangle by Jingya Huang (Finalist) was then performed by a string quartet. Violinist Yeji Pyun, violist Daniel Lamas, cellist Clara Cho were listed – though there was another violinist not listed, who appeared to be Sara Solomon (though it is hard to say based on one’s view of the stage). Conductor Youngwoo Jeon kept the group on course from its measured beginning and ostinato-like sections right up to its dramatic final chords, played with ferocity.

Undoubtedly, we will be hearing more from many of these performers and composers, and one looks forward to following their development.

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

Ian Hobson, pianist; Andrés Cárdenes, violinist,

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

September 26, 2025

For those who have missed news of one of the epic piano cycles of the past decade, Ian Hobson is nearing the end of his live New York recital traversal of Schumann’s piano works. Having launched the cycle on February 19, 2020 – just before COVID-19 obliterated concert life as we know it – Mr. Hobson resumed the series in March of 2022 and has enriched New York musical life with several Schumann concerts each year since. As New York Concert Review writer Frank Daykin described Mr. Hobson, he is a “heroic completist.” As such, Mr. Hobson has included not just all of Schumann’s solo piano works (large, small, celebrated, and neglected), but all of Schumann’s chamber works that feature piano as well. On September 26, for the penultimate concert of the cycle, we heard all three of Schumann’s sonatas for violin and piano (Op. 105, Op. 121, and WoO 2) with guest violinist Andrés Cárdenes – a program of extraordinary difficulty and one which many music lovers seemed to know in advance would be a special event. Friday’s crowd filled the Tenri hall to capacity, so Schumann lovers who have not obtained tickets for the final concert on November 7 will want to do so posthaste.

Though this Schumann cycle is by nature piano-centric, it should be noted first off what an inspired choice it was to collaborate with violinist Andrés Cárdenes. Well-matched to Mr. Hobson in terms of his decades of international performances, enormous discography, accolades, and versatility as teacher and conductor, he also plays with a full, rich tone, and a resonance that faces little danger of being overwhelmed even by the typically large sound of Mr. Hobson – or the highly resonant piano at the Tenri Institute. Additionally, Mr. Cárdenes possesses that kind of felicitous technique where there is simply nothing too difficult: he makes child’s play of rapid leaps, double-stops, and often unwieldy passagework, with nary a scratch, stumble, or strain. It was one thing to hear Schumann’s bravura fistfuls on the piano in these works – sometimes so awkwardly scored that they sound like, well, fistfuls – but then to hear some of that same material in the violin part played with such consistently surefire intonation was astonishing.

Hearing all three sonatas in an evening was memorable, and as Mr. Hobson commented after intermission: “We don’t get to hear them very often and certainly not in one recital.” He then pointed out that reverse chronological order had been chosen for the program, with Sonatas No. 3 (WoO 2) and No. 2 (Op. 121) coming before intermission and Sonata No. 1 (Op. 105) closing the program. There seemed a slight implication of having saved the best for last as he announced that the Op. 105 (composed in 1851) is “undoubtedly a masterpiece.” To this listener, that hint of a preference for the earliest sonata seemed evident in the duo’s performance itself. In it the duo found warmth, phrases that breathed, and structural cohesion. There was even a sense of spaciousness that afforded the observation of repeats (generally and wisely omitted in the more taxing works preceding intermission). The Sonata No. 1 was worth the trip by itself.

So, what of the first half of the program? The later Sonatas 2 and 3 did constitute a mammoth achievement simply in terms of the duo’s impressive unity as they tackled the challenging writing – not to mention their stamina – but this listener wanted more from the experience. For one thing, there needed to be more dynamic contrast, particularly on the softer end of things, where the score is marked piano or pianissimo. Such dynamics of course indicate more than mere decibel levels, as they evoke echoes, whispers, and entry points to much more, so it is a loss to miss those opportunities. Whether by mutual decision or a desire to be heard over the piano, Mr. Cárdenes had very few moments of piano or pianissimo dynamics himself, though he clearly is capable of the full spectrum, as we later heard.

To compound matters on the first half, the duo seemed bound to each other less by the glue of phrasing than by the rivets of rhythm, with accentuation dominating to excess. Hearing a composer noted for his shifts of mood and color, from his robust alter ego Florestan to that of the vulnerable dreamer Eusebius, one felt hard pressed to find any signs of Eusebius. Was the difference between first and second halves simply a matter of settling into the hall and getting bearings, or was it musical preference? It is hard to say.

For readers new to these works, the Sonata No. 3 in A minor (WoO 2) was considered Schumann’s last complete work (based on the co-composed Brahms-Dietrich-Schumann “F-A-E” Sonata, of which the Brahms and Dietrich portions were later replaced by Schumann to make the resulting work his own). Some feel that the piece’s patchwork history is evident in ways that detract from its unity and potency. Clara Schumann suppressed it on the advice of violinist Joseph Joachim, and it lay dormant until publication a century later in 1956. By contrast, the Sonata No. 2 in D minor, Op. 121) from 1853 is sometimes thought to reflect more of Schumann’s truer self, though the writing is technically ambitious, or to use Mr. Hobson’s word, “impressive.” It was certainly technically impressive in the Cárdenes-Hobson delivery, with only the occasional glitch, but the virtuoso elements felt a bit too dominant, taking on a relentless quality throughout. It is tempting to call a bit of “riding roughshod” one of the hazards of complete cycles – after all, the program was monstrously hard, and it is not easy to “sell” all of a composer’s oeuvre equally.

Fortunately, the Sonata Op. 105 came as a reminder of the reasons we treasure Schumann. It was a beauty in which virtuosity was at the service of musical substance, and both players shone – as did Schumann himself. It was greeted with a long standing ovation.

One eagerly awaits the cycle’s final concert, November 7, featuring an enticing program of the Piano Sonata No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 11, and, as the second half, the Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6. The concert is entitled “Florestan and Eusebius.”  As they say, “run, don’t walk” to hear it.

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