Anna Shelest and Dmitri Shelest, piano

The Brandywine Valley Symphony Chamber Orchestra
​Michael Hall, Artistic Director

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 18, 2026

It is rare that a concert surpasses all of a reviewer’s expectations, but such a program took place this past Sunday before a large audience at Weill Hall. The duo-piano team of Anna and Dmitri Shelest, joined by the Brandywine Valley Symphony Chamber Orchestra (Brandywine Valley Symphony) under Michael Hall, played a program of all 20th- and 21st-century music from the US and Ukraine in what was the first event of New York’s fourth Ukrainian Cultural Festival (October 18-Nov 6, 2026). Not surprisingly for such a fine-tuned event, this concert was presented by the Alexander & Buono Foundation, Inc., which, based on other concerts presented by them,  never misses a trick. From their helpful program notes to their seamless organization, it was beautifully conceived in every detail – and in conjunction with Razom for Ukraine and C. Bechstein Pianos. The program had a thoughtful balance of music by Valentin Silvestrov, Philip Glass, Samuel Barber, and Oleh Bezborodko, with the Ukrainian compositions bookending the American ones.

The excellent pianist Anna Shelest opened the program, joining the orchestra for a work entitled The Messenger (1996) by Ukrainian composer Valentin Silvestrov (b. 1937). The rather small stage at Weill Hall was occupied by Ms. Shelest, a Bechstein grand piano, nineteen members of the Brandywine Valley Symphony Chamber Orchestra, and the podium for conductor Michael Hall. What could have been an imposing mass of sonorities turned out to be beautifully intimate, as Mr. Silvestrov’s gentle, ethereal sounds were realized delicately by both pianist and string players alike. Written shortly after the death of the composer’s wife, it was inspired by the notion that a “messenger” (as imagined by the philosopher Yakov Druskin) may move between worlds. Faint fragments borrowed from Mozart wafted through the piece amid a haunting, elegiac haze of sound, with some unresolved lines conveying a searching quality. The air of mystery was increased by the visual uncertainty of when exactly the pianist was actually playing versus merely touching or depressing the keys silently, as one could not quite tell. The required pedal also blurred distinctions. Curiously too, the piano lid was resting on the half-stick, though the composer’s notes (included in the program itself) specified that it should be completely closed. One assumes this was not an oversight, rather a well-considered decision in the context of this performance – but whatever the case, it seemed not to interfere. Together, piano and orchestra made a poignant opening to a concert of enormous emotional range.

The Silvestrov piece led with a feeling of inevitability to the next work, the Piano Concerto No. 1 Tirol Concerto (2000) by Philip Glass (also born in 1937). Apart from sharing a birth year – and the latter’s vocal support of Ukraine – there are quite a few bonds between the two composers. There is a strong affinity, for example, between the minimalist style that Mr. Glass pioneered and the post-minimalist “meta-music” of Mr. Silvestrov – except that, where the Silvestrov piece gave the effect of suspended time, Mr. Glass was working here within a somewhat more conventional form and style, with an energy in the final movements that resembled jazz as it drove to a rip-roaring close.

Ms. Shelest was again the superb soloist, taking on the opening piano section with a decisive energy that carried her through the entire movement. Impressively, she managed to keep the myriad repeated patterns and their slight changes well demarcated, always projecting a sense of the work’s shape and direction. For full disclosure, this reviewer has never been a huge fan of this piece, but that started to change over the course of this performance – a sure tribute to the performers. Ms. Shelest, together with Mr. Hall and the orchestra, showed passionate commitment in their advocacy for it, and it was quite persuasive. The central movement, built upon harmonic progressions from Mr. Glass’s earlier soundtrack to The Truman Show (1998) was engrossing throughout, an impressive feat especially considering there are some stretches where the only changes to a harmony are minimal – through inversion, voicing, or instrumentation.

It may seem trivial or obvious to point out that Ms. Shelest was technically reliable the entire time – since that is almost a given in such a venue and with a respected professional – but it is a comment one can better appreciate if one has ever tried to play the same arpeggiation consecutively sixteen times or more, aware that any slight difference will stick out like a sore thumb. This mastery was especially important in the last movement, full of high-speed syncopations and cross-rhythms, at times enjoying an almost “boogie-woogie”-type bass and at others, relentless right-hand octaves, never letting up on the energy. Ms. Shelest was absolutely brilliant.

It seems only appropriate that the Brandywine Valley Symphony Chamber Orchestra would play something on their own, since it was, after all, the Carnegie Hall debut of this orchestra (founded in 1940). After intermission, Michael Hall led them in Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings (arranged in 1936 from the String Quartet Op. 11). It couldn’t have been a better choice for this concert, program-wise. The ensemble happens to be based where Barber was born, in West Chester, Pennsylvania – and this beloved work has come to be known as a balm in the face of tremendous loss, such as that which was felt in several works on this program. Naturally, such a piece is easier with a large string section (even given the work’s roots as a quartet) – but Mr. Hall and the ensemble handled it admirably, establishing a reflective mood from the start. Of course, there were moments when matters of intonation or evenness were more exposed than they would have been with a larger ensemble, but these were minor in the grand scheme of things.  

As the final work on the program, both Anna and her husband Dmitri Shelest – known through recordings and concerts as the Shelest Piano Duo – returned to the stage to join the orchestra in Concerto for Piano Four Hands and String Orchestra by Ukrainian composer Oleg Bezborodko  (b. 1973). It was a US Premiere, and the composer was present to take a bow and to join a Q&A session afterwards.

Mr. Bezborodko has written here one of the rare concerti pairing four-hand piano with string orchestra, and it has a storied past already. The premiere in Kyiv, scheduled for September of 2025, was prevented by an air raid alert sending the already-present audience to a shelter for several hours, after which the concert had to be canceled. Three months later, the Kyiv Piano Duo and Kyiv Camerata under Kerri-Lynn Wilson finally gave it its premiere, December 2, 2025. Now, ten months later (and with one afternoon’s orchestra rehearsal, we were told), the Shelest duo would blow their Carnegie audience away with it.

About the piece itself, the concerto is subtitled steel violet rage, describing its three movements. The first movement -“steel”- evokes the Azovstal steelworks of Mariupol, Ukraine during the Russian siege of 2022. The movement is fittingly brutal and percussive, in sounds produced both inside the piano and out. The “violet” movement, next, then makes reference to the final poem by poet and soldier Maksym Kryvtsov, shortly before he was killed in action. (It was almost unbearable to type that sentence.) As he thought of his body dispersed through the battlefield, he imagined his severed hands on the ground, sprouting violets in the springtime. In moments of great delicacy, this movement was, as one would expect, simply heartbreaking. In sum, the whole piece was devastating, but one could hope that “rage” at the end, with its strong forward propulsion, had perhaps as an imagined outcome some kind of acceptable resolution.

The Shelest Duo seems to have been made for the piece – its challenges and its extremes. They played with perfect synchronization and even seemingly that special telepathy that married couples can have (also demonstrated in the page-turning for Anna by husband Dmitry in the first works – not an easy thing to do before performing). They handled with ease the awkward extended techniques – including sweeping, plucking, and percussive effects inside the piano by one player, who had to stand while encircled by the arms of the other who needed to reach both extremes of the keyboard at once. Lest it seem as if it were all yet another exercise in the noise of extended techniques, it should be noted that the sounds produced through it all were unique, and in service to the work’s themes. One can only hope, after such monumental work for the musicians, that there will be future performances of it for them all.

One ray of hope in all the violence and devastation projected musically was the affirmation that music can still bring people together, still inspire impassioned performances like what we heard, and still impel the audience to help those suffering – facing a winter ahead with no electricity, no heat, and no warnings about imminent attacks. It was quite powerful in every way. As the tumultuous applause wound down, one could hear shouts of “Slava Ukraini!” from the back of the hall.

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

Mohan Liu, Piano; Yangmingtian Zhao, Piano; Steven Spooner, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 4, 2026

This weekend at Carnegie’s Weill Hall a most unusual concert took place featuring pianists Mohan Liu, Yangmingtian Zhao, and Steven Spooner. What was unusual was that Mr. Spooner was once the teacher of Dr. Zhao, and Dr. Zhao was listed as the teacher from 2017 of Mohan Liu, who currently also studies with Mr. Spooner at Peabody, so we had in a sense three musical generations (in terms of educational lineage, that is, as they are not quite a generation apart in age). The program was fittingly entitled “The Inheritance.” While there are many recitals that present teachers and students, ones spanning from teacher to “grand-student” are relatively rare.

The program included music of Mendelssohn, Schubert, Liszt, Debussy, Respighi, Gershwin, Poulenc, Wenhe Han, Benchao Yang,  and Steven Spooner performing his own etudes (with nods to Richard Rodgers, Keith Jarrett, and the rock band Queen). Rather than zigzagging from pianist to pianist, the program was divided into what felt like three distinct mini-recitals. The “middle” generation, pianist Yangmingtian Zhao, introduced the whole concert, starting with the youngest pianist, Mohan Liu.

The poised Ms. Liu walked onstage to begin Mendelssohn’s Variations Sérieuses, Op. 54 –  a change from the printed program, which had listed Schubert – and right from the opening theme, one sensed her great care in matters of tone and phrasing. Naturally there was a bit of time needed to tame the instrument completely, but she adjusted quickly. Particularly beautiful were Variations XI with its cantabile lines and the soulful XIV. Variation XII with its repeated notes took on the speed of a riveting machine, as did the exciting finale.

She proceeded next to the first movement of Schubert’s Piano Sonata in A minor, D. 784, which had been originally listed to open the program. It was unfortunate that the format of this recital had not allowed the complete sonata, as such a work deserves to be heard in its entirety, but three substantial mini-recitals in a row hardly allow for such a thing. At any rate, she showed fine command. Occasionally one wanted a bit more connection in the two-note octave slurs, which, even if they cannot be connected physically, can certainly be tapered tonally, one to the next. Interestingly she showed the ability to do just that – and wonderfully – in the Liszt Transcendental Étude that followed, Chasse-neige. Here one felt cohesive lines of treble octaves despite Liszt’s intervening flurries. It made for a brilliant close to an auspicious debut. One did not need to guess how proud her teachers were, as they were there.

After a great round of applause for Ms. Liu, Yangmingtian Zhao came onstage and spoke a bit about his selections. Not everything could be heard distinctly over the rustling of the audience (a microphone would have helped), but it was clear that Dr. Zhao is a musician who enjoys sharing, a quality that is paramount for classical performers and is not as universal as it should be. That same communicative quality emerged equally in his playing, starting with Les chemins de l’amour of Poulenc. Originally a valse chantée, this elegant song has been embraced by a growing number of pianists as a solo piece, and quite understandably. In Dr. Zhao’s hands this gem was just right, combining the elegance of Parisian boulevardiers with a disarming wistfulness. Following with more French music, he captured well the washes of color in Debussy’s Pagodes.

Having spoken a bit about the connections between Debussy and Asia (particularly the gamelan music), Dr. Zhao then made a natural segue to Chinese pieces from our own era starting with Indigo Blue Water, newly composed by his friend Wenhe Han (b. 1989). Relaying the composer’s suggestion that the listener be free and not feel tied to the title, Dr. Zhao characterized the music as more post-Impressionistic than Impressionistic, with qualities of Cubism – and with that thought, one could almost imagine the multiple musical “angles” converging. If one understood completely Dr. Zhao’s spoken introduction, he had only learned this brand new composition quite recently but he seemed to have a strong sense of it already. Also newly composed was the next selection, Love Is Humanity’s Ideal by Benchao Yang (b. 1987) – in fact, as Dr. Zhao explained, it is a transcription of themes from an opera still being composed by Yang for an upcoming concert, so in a way this performance was a preview. Dr. Zhao played its lyrical themes with much expressiveness, and where they were embellished in Lisztian fashion, he unleashed plenty of firepower.

Dr. Zhao’s set, including talking, was turning out to be the longest of the three, in a program of nearly two hours without intermission. Someone perhaps ought to have considered durations more carefully – as such shared programs may not seem long to the performers who play a mere fraction of them, but the entirety may feel long to an audience. That said, there was thankfully a good variety of styles and moods. Respighi’s seldom heard Intermezzo-Serenata offered some contrast from the flamboyance of the Yang transcription, and the final piece, Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue (in the solo version)brought not only a new style, but Dr. Zhao’s surprisingly individual version. Some added noodlings, approximated slides, and a well-placed glissando were among the stylish touches. Occasionally, beloved themes were overwhelmed by subsidiary material – and some moments struck this listener as too slapdash and frenetic, but there was enough spirit to make up for almost anything, and quite a spirit of adventure.

Contrary to what one might expect, this concert’s eldest player of the three, Steven Spooner, showed the most adventurous streak of all. For readers who have not heard of this tremendous pianist, his website is here: Steven Spooner – and for those who have not heard him play, there is great exploration ahead. He plumbs the depths of the more standard repertoire – as we heard in his Schubert-Liszt Ständchen to open – but also retains that youthful spirit of pure fun and innovation, as we heard in his own Three Concert Etudes.

Ständchen was a revelation. Few are unfamiliar with this treasured Schubert melody – or even Liszt’s framing of it for that matter – but rarely has this listener heard such emotion wrung from each note of it. Slightly slower than one generally hears it – which some would undoubtedly find too slow – his tempo showed fearless devotion to the moment, in what was a meltingly beautiful interpretation. It may be too tempting to draw connections between his strengths and those of his students – after all, the best teachers of artists foster individuality, as clearly he has – but a special sensitivity to tone seems to be among the cultivated traits. Moments of Ms. Liu’s Schubert and Mendelssohn, Dr. Zhao’s Poulenc, and Mr. Spooner’s Ständchen (plus his second etude yet to come) all had moments of such tonal beauty that they seemed to be portals to another world.

Shifting gears, Mr. Spooner concluded the recital with his amazing Three Concert Etudes, the first called Étude-Toccata, à la Argerich. In it were the rapid-fire repeated notes that definitely did bring to mind some Argerich performances, set in a Latin-flavored jazz toccata that also had one thinking of Ginastera. The audience was quite captivated – and more than amused when the performance seemed to have resulted in a broken a treble string.

The second etude, entitled Keith Jarrett, took a sadder tone, in reflection on this great musician of classical and jazz worlds, whose two strokes cut his composing life short. As Mr. Spooner announced, this performance would be improvised so it would never be heard exactly the same way again – then quipping modestly that, “maybe that’s a good thing.” In fact, it would be very much worth hearing again as it stood, so hopefully it was recorded. This was the hypnotic music of daydreaming, with hints of “My Funny Valentine” poignantly placed. One could hear the proverbial pin drop in the hall.

He proceeded attacca to the final work on the recital, his Vladimir Horowitz: Concert Paraphrase of Queen. It was a bravura closer that introduced Queen’s We are the Champions with the sort of outsized pyrotechnics at which Horowitz excelled. Horowitz’s own fondness for giving audiences a tune to hum while leaving the hall was also a springboard of inspiration – and Mr. Spooner’s treatment of Queen was an imaginative one, even if this reviewer’s “bombast meter” went on the fritz somewhere in the middle of it. It also did with Horowitz sometimes. What we heard, though, seems destined to thrill a wide audience.

Kudos are in order for all three pianists. At one point in his comments from the stage, Mr. Spooner quoted from Hans von Bülow that, “There are no great teachers, only great pupils.” Maybe there are both.

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

Hai-Kyung Suh, piano

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY 

October 3, 2026 

Carnegie’s Zankel Hall was sold out this Saturday with fans clamoring to hear pianist Hai-Kyung Suh in a concert entitled “In Love” – a program which according to the notes “follows love through four of its aspects: love lost, love unspoken, love newly born, and love made into poetry.” With a first half largely devoted to Brahms and a second half largely devoted to Liszt, the offerings were Romantic with two exceptions – the beloved Gluck-Sgambati Melodie as opener and the World Premiere of a work by Jeajoon Ryu, commissioned by and dedicated to Ms. Suh. The program itself was luscious, and the connections to literature and composers’ lives intriguing, but it seemed that the “theme” could just as well have been oatmeal for such a devoted audience – they had clearly come as fans of Hai-Kyung Suh in what was one of the big piano events of the season. 

As anyone following classical music in the 1980’s probably knows, Hai-Kyung Suh burst onto the music scene in 1980 with her victory in the Busoni International Piano Competition (that year’s top prize) and from there built a reputation as an especially passionate virtuosa. She went on to accumulate more honors, performances with the finest orchestras in the world, and a substantial discography with Deutsche Grammophon and Decca, including four Mozart concertos and the complete Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky concertos. All was interrupted by a 2006 breast cancer diagnosis, but nothing could stop Ms. Suh. A comeback occurred two years later as she returned to the stage at Seoul Arts Center playing Rachmaninoff’s Second and Third Concertos in one evening; as anyone with such a diagnosis knows, however, coming back can be a long road; it was thus extremely heartening and exciting to learn of this Zankel Hall concert with such a robust program. 

As the pianist wrote in her own program notes, reminiscing about learning much of this program as a teenager, “Then, it was about the thrill of playing very difficult pieces, to incite awe and excitement. Now, it is much more about using virtuosity to reveal the artistic intent of the works… Tonight I return to music I have known nearly all my life, carrying everything that has happened in between. That is what I hope you will hear. In the end, it all comes back to love.” The whole evening was imbued with such sentiments – and a refreshing antidote to the dehumanizing influences that encroach on the arts these days. 

From the very start, one knew that this concert would be emotionally charged – but it was clear how unusual it would be when a voice came over the hall’s loudspeaker, announcing that the opening Gluck-Sgambati Melodie would be played with the stage lights turned off, to approximate the darkness of Orpheus’s journey into the underworld to rescue his Eurydice. Many closed their eyes. It was quite a special experience, emphasizing not only the tale’s darkness but also the message that music is, after all, an aural art. Glittering gowns and theatrics notwithstanding, we attend concerts to listen. It was an inspired move – and not an easy one to pull off, as this transcription has its own challenges even when one can see the keyboard – but the piece shone as the gem that it is. A huge ovation followed. 

When the lights came back on, Ms. Suh returned to the stage for Brahms, first the Two Rhapsodies, Op. 79, then the Intermezzo in A Major and Ballade in G Minor, from Op. 118, and finally Book II from Variations on a Theme by Paganini in A Minor, Op. 35. As strange as it had probably been to play in the dark, one worried a bit that it might be still more unsettling to adjust to bright lights afterwards for these more vigorous works. Sure enough, there were some glitches, attributable perhaps to the newly bright lights or the need to settle into things – but one felts always that there was a pro onstage. Overall, the Two Rhapsodies conveyed just what the program notes suggested, “passion under strict formal control.” The Op. 118 selections were commanding, with the Intermezzo in A major full of warmth and the Ballade given just the right drive, offset artfully by its poignant B-major section. 

The first half concluded with power, as Ms. Suh approached the Paganini Variations with the seeming fearlessness of one who had learned them many decades ago – which she had. She made short work out of the sections that hobble many pianists. Variation 4 was especially beautiful (full of the feeling that would permeate the commissioned Valse later), and Variation 11 was so fleet and brilliant that the audience could not contain its applause after. The only scuffs were from occasional impetuousness – something that can happen in performances of repertoire one knows so well as to take almost for granted – but that will be addressed later. The entire set concluded with great virtuosity, again to a huge ovation. 

After intermission came perhaps the highlight of the program, the World Premiere of the Valse per pianoforte by Jeajoon Ryu. The piece belongs to a third suite of dance-based piano works still awaiting publication. As the composer explains, it contains “a four-note motif that persists through every variation, surfacing in changing guises from a solitary opening to a virtuosic coda.” Such a description does little justice to the work, which in this pianist’s hands emerged as a masterpiece of nostalgia, languishing lyricism, and blazing pyrotechnics. Ms. Suh seemed to reach her height of command here, perhaps relishing the act of bringing something entirely new to her audience, and it was a tour de force. Mr. Ryu may need to brace for an onrush among virtuoso pianists, akin to the frenzy over Ravel’s La Valse.

In a judicious switching of order, we then heard Liszt’s Sonetto del Petrarca No. 104 from Années de pèlerinage followed by his Transcendental Etude No. 10 (rather than the printed program’s reverse order). The meditative qualities of the former were just what was needed after the exuberance of the Ryu piece – and that is not to say the etude is any kind of breather for the pianist. The demanding fioritura passages were absolutely sparkling – but the long lines were sustained beautifully and just what was called for. It was amazing that there was no flagging during the Transcendental Etude that followed, but it was given a bravura ride, and Liszt’s Rhapsodie espagnole capped things off with a fittingly fiery finish. 

Alongside the well-deserved praise for Ms. Suh, a few reservations prompted some thought. At several points in the recital, this reviewer was becoming so spoiled with what Ms. Suh can do, that the minor nicks in some impetuous leaps and other slips started to stand out as unnecessary. One wondered whether perhaps these could have been helped by a bit more patience – yet another form of love for musicians. Just an extra millisecond here and there might have refined these wonderful performances still further. Also, sometimes we have a tendency to lavish all our attention on our favorite moments and leave parts connected to them orphaned in a sense (either through missed notes or aspects of phrases deemed “lesser”) – but these are all integral to the whole towards which our work is infinite. So, when we speak of teens being more preoccupied with technical perfection than the concerns of the mature artist, there may be a bit of a false dichotomy here. Optimally we try for both, and if anyone can do it all, it seems that Ms. Suh can. She very nearly has. As Virgil wrote, Omnia vincit amor.

After a well-deserved standing ovation, Ms. Suh rewarded us with Liszt’s Liebesträume No. 3 and the Schumann-Liszt Widmung, both offering moments of great beauty. Widmung concluded with an unusually fortissimo chord – quite a surprise – but given what this program represented, a triumphant flourish was in order. Brava – and encore!

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

Meng Wang Music Academy presents Voices Unbound in Review

Ying Li and Jiacheng Xiong, Piano; Yi Qun Xu, Cello; 

Hector Noriega, Clarinet; Guilherme Andreas, Flute;

Marius Staible and Daniel Roth, Accordion
​Yvette Keong, Soprano
Yunze Mu, Myles Hayden, and Trexler Cook, Data-Driven Instruments

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 2, 2026

On Friday, October 2, 2026, the Meng Wang Academy, in collaboration with the Paulus Hook Music Foundation, presented a concert entitled “Voices Unbound” at Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall, featuring music by thirteen composers of all ages and varying stages of development. Led by dedicated teacher and composer Meng Wang, who has mentored many of them (and also teaches at the Manhattan School of Music Precollege and Mannes Prep), the event had a twofold goal of presenting young talent and raising funds for the non-profit called Facta Non Verba, which supports education in Madagascar.

On the program were solo, chamber, and electroacoustic works, nearly all of them listed as composed or completed in 2026, except for a 2019 accordion solo by Dr. Reiko Füting (teacher of composition at the Manhattan School of Music), and, surprisingly, two song arrangements by Kurt Weill from 1938. The rest of the works were brand new creations by Yunze Mu, Ella Bao, Zoey Feng, Nick Leatherman, Yunxuan Michael Li, Jasper Luan, Austin Ma, Winston Qin, Charles Z. Wang, and Ciara Zhang – some by students as young as eighth grade.

From what appeared to be a musical marathon (and it did run from 8:00pm to 10:20pm), this reviewer was pleasantly surprised. All of the young composers’ works showed commendable accomplishment and promise – and it helped, of course, that they were performed by experts in the field. The players gave their all as they would for music by Beethoven or any established master. Though details on each performer would be endless, credits are in order. The musicians included violinist Qianwen Shen of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, cellist Yi Qun Xu of the Juilliard Pre-College faculty, Young Concert Artists pianist Ying Li, Curtis Institute pianist Jiacheng Xiong, 2025-26 Rochester Philharmonic Principal Clarinetist Hector Noriega, award-winning flutist Guilherme Andreas, and Metropolitan Opera National Council Winner soprano Yvette Keong. How lucky these younger composers were to have premieres performed by them! The University of Louisville Electro-Acoustic Ensemble – featuring Yunze Mu, Keegan Watts, and Myles Hayden – performed on data-driven instruments. 

The program opened with a captivating piano solo called Continuum composed by Winston Qin. It started with a simple repeated six-note motive that reappeared in the harmonies and through varied iterations to build a beautiful arc – before receding touchingly with remnants of its theme. In just roughly two minutes, it captured the idea of its title as Mr. Qin explains it in the notes, that “what we leave behind keeps shaping the people who come after us.” A piece of music needn’t be long to make an indelible statement, and this did just that. It couldn’t have been a better introduction for the speech that followed by his teacher Meng Wang, about the charitable mission behind this concert. 

More piano music followed with When the Wind Stops  by Ciara Zhang. In a style reminiscent of musical Impressionists, though with a certain individuality, it suggested the alternating movement and stillness of nature. The piano background of this composer was evident in some brilliant treble figuration evoking the wind.

Further inspiration from nature (a recurring theme in this concert) came through a piece for clarinet and piano by eighth grader Nick Leatherman who based his Impressions of Mürren on views of the Swiss Alps, with two movements – “Day: The Flower Trail” and “Night: Stillness and Dreams.” There was a certain Schubertian quality to this music, with virtuoso flourishes suggesting influences of later composers, though with a budding style of his own. 

A piano trio by Charles Z. Wang followed, entitled Paradox. As the young composer wrote to sum it up, “It seems like you’re moving forward or making progress, but in the end, you always end up in the same place.” Full of slides from the strings and questioning gestures, it proceeded with increasing intensity, complexity, and chromaticism, offering the most modernistic style of the program so far. 

Kanonensong, next, from The Threepenny Opera by Kurt Weill, was something of an anomaly on the program but a welcome one, and it was especially interesting in the two-accordion arrangement of Marius Staible and Daniel Roth. The two German musicians are a duo, touring under the name “con:trust” – and they brought this famous number considerable skill and some surprising theatrics as they played. 

Marius Staible then was solo accordionist in the work entitled ineo by Reiko Füting, head of the composition department at the Manhattan School of Music. “Ineo” refers to St. Augustine’s words (translated from Latin as “I enter”) and for the composer (according to his notes) refers to ideas of Hannah Arendt on “the potential for political change represented by the birth of each human being.” The relationship between this reflection and the actual piece requires some speculation, but contrasts were clear between the hymn-like keyboard parts (fragments of Josquin Desprez) and the extended techniques, including non-verbal utterances, loud breathing, gasping, and sounds produced by shaking, tapping, and dragging the hand across the bellows of the accordion. 

To close the first half was a piece called Galactic Railroad by Yunze Mu for electro-acoustic ensemble. The composer’s notes state that “It was inspired by Night on the Galactic Railroad by Japanese author Kenji Miyazawa. In my imagination, the Milky Way is filled with steam trains. They meet, travel together for a time, and eventually part ways. None of them knows its final destination; they simply continue moving forward, restlessly, toward the unknown.” The University of Louisville Electro-Acoustic Ensemble – including its composer plus Trexler Cook and Myles Hayden – came onstage with laptops and devices in hand to recreate this conception, controlling the electronic output with at times expansive arm gestures. Many classically trained musicians like to critique such creations as “sound effects” rather than music, but frequent exposure can start to affect how one hears everyday sounds. Case in point, just as the performance conjured sounds of being on a train (perhaps near a loud construction site, with storms brewing in the distance), this reviewer’s actual subway trip home after the concert almost had her searching the train platform for whom to applaud.

After intermission, we heard another Kurt Weill composition, his September Song, played sensitively by Daniel Roth, back with his accordion. His fluid jazz style was winning, showing expert timing and a flair for musical “punchlines.” 

After the Weill, young composer Ella Bao came onstage to speak, not only as one of the featured musicians but as the philanthropic liaison whose experience staying in rural Madagascar gave rise to the charitable effort, “Voices Unbound.”  Her song, Whispers of Silence followed, and it was lyrical and engaging. One wished that there had been a printed text for it though, as even with the soprano’s commendable diction, it was impossible to understand longer words, especially as the piano shared the spotlight.

A piano trio came next, Blossom, by Chongyu (Austin) Ma. Described by the composer as “reflecting on” the fragile and changing nature of human connection,” it came off thoughtfully, evoking the hesitations and remembrances. 

Feathered Flight for cello and piano by Zoey Feng followed, conjuring the wonder of birds overhead with fluttering piano figuration and soaring cello lines.

More nature inspiration was evident in a piano trio called Glimmering River  by Jasper Luan. Again of somewhat impressionistic style, it went far beyond glimmering into an intense exploration with quite a bit of percussive dissonance.

The concert concluded with a quintet for flute, clarinet, violin, cello and piano, entitled Idyll by Yunxuan (Michael) Li. Young Mr. Li, who is described in the biographical notes as drawing inspiration from Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky, is described in the program notes as moving in this work “beyond his musical comfort zone.” Indeed, there were hints of Shostakovich and others of a later vintage here. Most importantly, though, there was skillful treatment of his material, which he developed with fiery energy and a conversational fluency among instruments. It was quite compelling and made a great finale to the concert. 

All in all, it was an inspiring evening. One had to admire that so many of these young talents have worked with one mentor, Meng Wang, and yet there was still considerable individuality among them. Aside from a penchant for nature-based compositions, there were distinct musical personalities emerging among them. Congratulations to all, and best of luck on this charitable endeavor. 

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

New England Symphonic Ensemble; Preston Hawes, Artistic Director

Michael Glasgow, composer/conductor

Haley Sicking, soprano; Michael Kelley, baritone

Isaac Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

June 6, 2026

The New England Symphonic Ensemble, under the auspices of MidAmerica Productions (MAP), continued their impressive concert schedule at Carnegie Hall this weekend in a program pairing them with choruses from far and wide, in music from the Baroque period to the present. From Vivaldi’s Gloria in D major (RV 589) and Schubert’s Mass No. 2 in G major (D. 167) to Elaine’s Hagenberg’s Illuminare and Michael J. Glasgow’s Gloria, MAP offered its usual surfeit of riches. I was assigned, though, to review just the Glasgow piece which closed the program, so will keep this review focused on that. To cite just a few highlights leading up to it, though, there was some captivating solo work from mezzo-soprano Jordan Seguin-Gascoigne (in the Vivaldi, the Dominus Deus agnus Dei in particular) and from baritone Robbie Raso (in the Schubert, Agnus Dei, in particular). Elaine Hagenberg, whose music I reviewed favorably in 2024 and 2025, did not disappoint.  The guest conductors, Yelitza Green, Jay Dunn, Jed Hyun Ragsdale, and Scott L. Martin, were commendable in corralling the forces.

By 10:40pm (with the concert having started at 8:30), the performers finally filed onstage for the Glasgow Gloria to finish well after 11pm.It did something of a disservice to Mr. Glasgow (and to his audience) to have so much preceding what would be a thirty-plus-minute work. With two intermissions for multiple choruses to file in and out through the course of the evening (and their respective fans in the audience doing much the same) such extravaganzas – as festive as they are – can easily devolve into a string of “selfie” opportunities. This reviewer was starting to think that nothing short of an explosion would reclaim the musical focus.  As luck would have it, the musical equivalent was imminent.

Michael J. Glasgow walked onstage to conduct his own piece, and at the very opening of the first movement (of three) he led the orchestra in such a massive buildup of brass and percussion – with a cymbal swell to a full impassioned choral tutti – that one wondered where it could possibly go from there. Sure enough, though, it was just the first of multiple peaks. Though the declamatory opening was followed by a drop in dynamics, there was no drop in energy. The momentum continued in pulsing rhythms (of 3,3,2) to build again – and again – throughout the work. The excellent orchestral players sustained it well, and the agile Mr. Glasgow, seeming almost ready for liftoff, led with exuberance. The singers combined with the orchestra in a massive sound, producing a potency worthy of the words Gloria in excelsis Deo. As the composer states in his notes, “I’ve taken care to ensure that this Gloria actually sounds like what it says: the first movement is one of jubilant praise and faith.”

For those unfamiliar with Mr. Glasgow there is much to read at his website (Michael J. Glasgow), but suffice it to say this was not his first Carnegie Hall appearance, nor even the first Carnegie performance of his Gloria, which had its world premiere there in 2022, after a pandemic forced its postponement.

Settings of the Gloria within masses are many, and the standalone settings number quite a few as well, but this was clearly a Gloria reflective of its time, a twenty-first-century expression distinct from its predecessors. If the opening of the Gloria unleashed the heroic might one associates with blockbuster film scores, a more contemplative section of the first movement had the harmonic familiarity of a simple pop ballad. Occasionally such juxtapositions gave the piece a feeling of having been “assembled” (as opposed to unified organically) but transitions were helped along by skillful orchestration – and, after all, such styles and contrasts reflect much about our time. Just as the more intimate mood and texture were established, the beautifully complementary voices of soprano Haley Sicking and baritone Michael Kelley sent the music skyward again to still more exultant heights. After multiple fanfares, climaxes, and an abundance of “bells and whistles” (or in this case bells and cymbals), one might be tempted to call such writing “over the top” but given the subject of the text, what should one expect? The audience was so taken with the first movement that it couldn’t refrain from applauding. Mr. Glasgow has many fans, and the choristers were surely among them, described on the program simply as “Friends of composer Michael J. Glasgow (from throughout the USA).”

The second movement, described by Mr. Glasgow as “a quiet prayer” with the text qui tollis peccata mundi  (“who takes away the sins of the world”), was actually the first part of the piece he composed. As he recounts it, “The last day of November 2018 was what I identified as a ‘despairing day,’ and as is often the case in difficult times, I composed music for comfort. The fruit of my labor that day was the introduction and coda of the second movement. I didn’t know what would happen with the rest of the work (I didn’t even know what would happen with the rest of the second movement!), but I knew that the music I had created – which completely redeemed my ‘despairing day’ – would one day bookend the middle movement of a three-part Gloria.” If only everyone’s despairing days were so fruitful!

Though composers have traditionally and understandably set the peccata mundi (“sins of the world”) to dark harmonies and dissonances, the comfort of this setting’s initial inspiration seems to have bathed the movement in a wash of relative tranquility. The mood seems less from the “despairing day” and more from redemption of it – fair enough – more tollis than peccata. Though the composer’s notes mention setting those central words peccata mundi in a minor key, the bulk of the movement is actually dominated by major harmonies. It was a surprise to hear, but thankfully, composers can shine their musical “light” where they choose, even in traditional texts. It still offered contrast between the buoyant outer movements.

The third and final movement (and this reviewer’s favorite) was set to the Quoniam tu solus sanctus (“For Thou alone art holy”). It took back up some of the material of the first movement and developed it expertly.  As the composer writes, “the final movement is an explosive celebration of mixed meter (with more than 70 time-signature changes), syncopation and cross-rhythms, culminating in ecstatic Amens that I envisioned as ‘an amazing party that you don’t want to leave.’” Indeed, and it was remarkable, after such a full evening, to see that he was able to rouse audience so thoroughly. What might have seemed like excess in the opening movement felt just right in the third, with crescendo upon crescendo and all the stops pulled out, towards an ecstatic finish. Michael J. Glasgow knows how to keep a chorus “on its toes” tossing material excitedly from voice to voice and building momentum, so one can expect this work to gain increasing popularity in the choral world. This chorus was “all in” and so was the audience, who gave it a standing ovation.

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

Richard A. Nichols, Bobby G. Helms,  Joshua Chism, Victoria Gau, and Kathleen Allan, conductors

Chessa Metz, soprano; Kameron Keller, tenor; Sherryl Sewepagaham, vocals and drums

Listed collaborative pianists: Mary Nelson and David Brewster

Narrator: Nathaniel Sullivan

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 25, 2026

MidAmerica Productions continued their fine record of outstanding concerts with their 1pm concert this Memorial Day (with another one scheduled for the evening). They combined the excellent New England Symphonic Ensemble with choruses from throughout the US and Canada, uniting choirs from Idaho, Oklahoma, Maryland, Mississippi, New Jersey, New York, Texas, and Ontario. Their program included a varied selection of contemporary choral works including three world premieres and four Carnegie Hall premieres  – all alongside the masterful and well-loved Schicksalslied of Brahms. Among the premieres were works by Richard A. Nichols, Sherry Blevins with Raphael Fusco, Cris Derksen, Sherryl Sewepagaham (including one co-written with Andrea Neumann), and Patti Drennan. Among non-premieres- aside from the Brahms, of course – was the increasingly performed Te Deum by Dan Forrest. It was a long program, well over two hours including two intermissions, so to keep this review brief, those interested in reading the program notes can find them here: Program Notes

First off, a hat tip is in order for the overall selection of works on this concert. For a holiday that observes both loss and heroism, sorrow and triumph, this music encompassed it all. To start were three selections of movements from Requiem for Patriots by Richard A. Nichols set to speeches of three U.S Presidents – narrated here by Nathaniel Sullivan. The first, entitled Requiem, set a dramatic tone for the whole program with low string tremolos, a soulful trumpet entry, and bells, all leading to the stirring recitation of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, supported by the ensemble, coloring the speech emotionally. The second (Kyrie), was based upon the words of George W. Bush at National Cathedral after the attacks of 9/11/01. To this listener, who recalls vividly the horror of the attacks, the music had a sweetness that was hard to reconcile with the day’s reality (think “Music of the Night” for harmonic flavor at the opening), but then again, its gentleness allowed some more words about the murdered innocents to stand out. The bravery shown that day connected to the third and final movement (In Paradisum), drawing on words of comfort and courage from the speech of Ronald Reagan after the 1986 Challenger disaster. Together the movements conveyed feelings of courage and faith, with the texts enhanced by imaginative musical scoring. These were memorable and moving performances, and the introduction and conducting by the composer himself made them even more so.

Moving to more familiar day-to-day subject matter (though still grand in its own way and certainly set musically as such), we heard To Truly Love, by Sherry Blevins / Raphael Fusco, five movements set to texts about unconditional love and the nature of parent-child relationships. Bobby G. Helms conducted, leading the chorus in admirable balance with orchestral forces in the opening movement, entitled The Wonder of Your Life. The second movement, Your Masterpiece, introduced tenor Kameron Keller, who projected the text with a penetrating and pure sound befitting a child’s pleas for love. The orchestra set a somber mood in the minor harmonies of the third movement, When Darkness Came, but all grew brighter with the pristine sound and intonation of soprano Chessa Metz in Stay Here with Me, followed by To Truly Love – an expansive finale that drew a large ovation.

After the first intermission came the magnificent Schicksalslied, Op. 54 (Song of Destiny) of Brahms. Based on a free-verse passage of Friedrich Hölderlin’s novel Hyperion, the text can be described as invoking “a pantheistic vision of the world and … the return of the golden age through poetry and love” (as summarized in the helpful notes by Leonard Burkat). The creation of this work represented a three-year struggle for Brahms, to frame somehow the poem’s heavenly visions with earthly struggles. To hear the end result, though, is to hear Brahms in a warm musical embrace of the universe. It is always transporting, and this was no exception. It was conducted beautifully by Victoria Gau and made a perfect addition to the program.

If a trip to the water (specifically the North Sea) was said to have helped inspire Brahms to compose his Schicksalslied, the reverence for water (in fact activist concern for it) continued to be present in several Cree-inspired pieces that followed, but first there was a musical greeting by Sherryl Sewepagaham. Ms. Sewepagaham was present not just to sing these but to play drums, under the dynamic conductorship of Kathleen Allan. We heard Tawâw (Welcome Song) – conceived, we are told, in a time combining earthly births and the passing of a loved one, and the music reflected that. Its triadic and pentatonic motifs were indeed accessible and welcoming, but the steady underlying drumbeat gave it a dark, almost ominous quality.

To add to the day’s sadness, we were informed through an insert in the program that the composer of the next Cree works, Chris Derksen, lost her life on May 15 in a tragic auto accident – one which also left her wife critically injured. To add to that pain, one learns that she had been en route from her father’s funeral. The insert paid heartfelt tribute to her, with Ms. Sewepagaham dedicating her Tawâw performance to her and the conductor Kathleen Allan dedicating her performance as well. There is little one can say of comfort after such a tragedy, but Ms. Derksen’s music did, in a sense, speak for her. Her mission to protect our planet’s water was not necessarily the kind of military fight one associates with Memorial Day, but it loomed as life-and-death to her. Selections from her Mass For Nîpîy: A Prayer for Water included A Prayer for Nîpîy’s Spirit and Prayer for the Rivers, both evoking a ritual solemnity through repeated minor motifs and both gradually building a powerful sense of urgency. We also heard later her Never Dry (from the same Mass for Nîpîy), with percussive suggestions of rain mounting in primal rhythms to a visceral energy, all skillfully handled by Ms. Allan.

In between these water-inspired pieces of Ms. Derksen’s we heard Papîyahtik (Peace Chant) composed by Sherryl Sewepagaham with Andrea Neumann. One quibble this reviewer had was that there were no pauses between the two Nîpîy pieces by Ms. Derksen and this. In a concert with all unfamiliar music, no breaks for applause, a dramatic midair cutoff, some circling back in composer order, and a few similar ceremonial qualities among pieces, all can start to blur together, which does a disservice to the composers. If it hadn’t been mentioned in the program notes that Papîyahtik starts with an alto flute solo, one would not have known which was which (and yes, there were QR code program notes – sadly right above the request to turn off mobile devices and with little time to access Wi-Fi). At any rate, Papîyahtik announced itself with a soulful alto flute solo, followed by indigenous chant enhanced by various extended techniques, swaying, and stomping that blended evocatively with the indigenous chant. The music seemed to bring joy to audience and performers alike.

In a surfeit of riches (translation for the presenters: please consider curbing the length in future programs), the program had a third and final segment after the second intermission, and there was a switch from the printed program, so that it started with Patti Drennan’s The Mighty Power Of God (World Premiere), rather than Dan Forrest’s Te Deum, which was saved for the concert’s finale. Ms. Drennan’s piece opened boldly, with a heraldic spirit. Unequivocally tonal, this music simply burst with passionate energy, bringing to mind some epic film scores. While it was not the easiest to understand every single word of the text from the large chorus, that became moot upon the entry of the Wyatt hymn, O God, Our Help in Ages Past, set beautifully here. Joshua Chism kept all well in hand and concluded the concert with the familiar Te Deum by Dan Forrest. A highlight was the hallowed middle movement entitled simply Prayers, but the final Praise to Christ was pure musical celebration.

Congratulations are in order to all the participants and musicians, and to MidAmerica, for whom this was their 1,528th concert worldwide, 1,186th concert in New York, and 732nd concert in Carnegie Hall – a huge achievement.

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

Nana Miyoshi, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 3, 2026

Eighteen-year-old pianist Nana Miyoshi gave her solo recital debut this May  at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, under the auspices of the Alexander & Buono and Marcello & Graziano Roviaro Foundations, and though sadly we were not able to be present, there was an excellent recording to review. When I first read that eighteen-year-old Ms. Miyoshi had won First Prize in the Bradshaw and Buono International Piano Competition in 2019, I thought, “they must mean she was eighteen when she won so in her twenties now, because she wouldn’t have won at age eleven” – but upon visiting her website (Nana Miyoshi), it became clear that she had indeed won the top prize at age eleven – a remarkable achievement, as the competition has had some noteworthy winners. Since that year, she has continued her studies with Cosmo Buono.

Her debut program opened with the beloved Sheep May Safely Graze (J. S. Bach, in the Mary Howe transcription). The performance stood out at first for its very deliberate pace, slower than one has typically heard, but refreshingly so. One often is struck by excesses of speed in such young players – and the opening of this concert could have seen an adrenaline moment like few others – but here we felt the pacing of a very patient soul. The slower the tempo gets, the harder it is to sustain the chorale theme, but the melodic lines still kept a sense of flow overall. It was perhaps wise, in view of the chosen tempo, that Ms. Miyoshi omitted the opening recitative. At any rate, the piece set a thoughtful tone for the recital.

Chronologically and key-wise the segue was perfect to Mozart’s Piano Sonata in B-flat major, K. 333, which the pianist approached with playful energy and articulation. Some unusual manipulations of tempo could have been labeled “Romantic” by many, but Ms. Miyoshi carried them off with genuine feeling, rarely sacrificing momentum (as well as omitting repeats). Her dramatic projection was also exceptional, almost as if there had been explanatory captions. As an example, her approach in leading into the first movement’s recapitulation had such a pronounced ritardando that it seemed to tease the listener, saying “wait for it…” – and then “here we are again!” Such demonstrative instances of bending in the central Andante cantabile were occasionally exaggerated beyond what this listener enjoys, but it was still refreshing to sense strong, communicative impulses. In the final movement, Mozart’s own marking in the autograph manuscript actually specifies that the finale’s cadenza should be in tempo (a marking conveyed also in the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe and observed by pianists including Mitsuko Uchida and many others), but it was still a joy to hear Ms. Miyoshi highlight certain creative moments by stretching (as hinted at, for example, in the wonderful Maria João Pires performances). Though ideally one can achieve equivalent shaping through varying tone and touch rather than manipulating tempi, it is hard to argue when Mozart’s score ultimately comes to life, and it did. Ms. Miyoshi played it with jubilance and received an enthusiastic ovation.  

The program continued with Chopin’s Ballade No. 3 in A-flat major, Op. 47. Here one noticed something quite beautiful about Ms. Miyoshi’s playing, and that was her penchant for reacting in retrospect to her own music-making, as if reflecting on the living wonders of Chopin as she goes along. At times, that pondering may verge on excess, leaving one craving a bit more flow, but I’ll still take it any day over the unthinking or unfeeling that one sometimes hears. She tended lovingly to the inner voices in the gentle “rocking” section and built to a passionate peak and triumphant close.

After intermission, we heard Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 17, Op. 31, No. 2 in D minor (“The Tempest”), given a compelling performance overall with quibbles being mostly minor. and somewhat personal. Though many pianists start the interrupting allegro phrases rather slowly as if testing the water, these segments struck one here as starting a bit too slowly, sounding almost mannered; moreover, the half notes just before the development (and similar spots) were slow to the point of being unrecognizable as half notes, sacrificing for this listener a sense of rhythmic proportion. The Adagio was similarly expansive, but to good effect, and with a feeling of profundity. By the time the Allegretto movement started, the tendency to emphasize importance through slowness had started to undermine itself from overuse. Some rethinking and prioritizing could make this piece still more cohesive, but it was nonetheless a heartfelt journey.

Franz Liszt’s Réminiscences de Norma closed the program. In some ways, such a Romantic-era piece felt like it would be a good match for Ms. Miyoshi’s ruminative gifts, and it was a joy to be able to soak up some of its luscious harmonies at greater leisure than what one usually experiences. On the flip side of things, though, where the piece tends to gain momentum, it felt still a bit held back for this listener. It was a joy to hear each detail (a luxury one usually has only at “practice tempo”), but one hopes Ms. Miyoshi will truly let it “take flight” as she lives with the work. She undoubtedly has great potential, and one looks forward to watching her music truly soar in the years to come.

Two lovely encores followed, the Earl Wild arrangement of Gershwin’s Embraceable You, the concert’s single – and very welcome  – foray into the twentieth century, and then Fanny Mendelssohn’s Nocturne in G minor. They both were fittingly gentle and lyrical. Ms. Miyoshi can feel quite proud of her achievement – as can her teacher.

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

Michael Bragagnolo, Tenor; Jan Kriz, Tenor; Pavel Vitek, Baritenor; Marian Vojtko, Tenor

Special Guest Singers: Daniel Assetta, Heather Makalani, Rachel Zatcoff

​Instrumental Musicians: Frantisek Krticka, Piano; Craig Klonowski, Guitar;

Chrystelle Catalano, Violin; Viktor Jan Kuru, Violin; Vladan Malinjak, Viola; Simon Marek, Cello

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 11, 2026

The sensational singing group known as 4 Musical Tenors (or 4 Tenoři to their base of the Czech Republic) made a highly successful return to New York this Monday, inspiring their audience at Carnegie (Zankel Hall) to several standing ovations. A crossover group in the style of their predecessors, the Three Tenors (Pavarotti, Domingo, and Carreras), they combine operatic selections and popular showtunes. Based on this concert, they tend to favor the latter, but they proved to have ample gifts in both areas. Having elicited comparison to other renowned groups such as Il Divo and Il Volo, they have had several Gold and Platinum albums in Europe and have accumulated more than 16 million views on YouTube. They even drew a good-sized crowd to Zankel Hall on a Monday evening, not always an ideal time. The audience, as well as including several dignitaries from the Consulates of the Czech Republic and Slovakia, included some youngsters, which was nice to see. A portion of the proceeds from the concert were to go to the organization Broadway Cares.

 The concert opened dramatically with an instrumental ensemble onstage (a piano, guitar, and string quartet) setting the mood for the first selection, “This is the Moment” from Jekyll & Hyde (Wildhorn). After a brief musical introduction, the four charismatic tenors  strode onstage – Michael Bragagnolo, Jan Kriz, Pavel Vitek, and Marian Vojtko. The feeling was, as their opening title suggests, momentous, and they moved seamlessly from exchanging solo lines to converging in powerful harmonizations. The sound was miked, with several speakers spanning the stage, but one had the sense that all would have been sufficiently powerful to fill the hall with no amplification.

Jan Kriz introduced the next selection, as he did through much of the evening, and the four followed with “Never Enough” from The Greatest Showman (Benj Pasek/Justin Paul), riding the tide of their energetic opening. The next two selections were from musicals by Andrew Lloyd Webber, starting with “Love Changes Everything” from Aspects of Love. It opened with a touching gentleness, setting up what would be a long build-up from all four. It was quite moving.

Shifting to a more comedic note, Jan Kriz took the spotlight for the next Webber selection, “King Herod’s Song” from Jesus Christ Superstar, a rock opera which he described as a favorite of his since childhood. He added that with such a small ensemble as theirs, there were few songs he could select from this rock opera. Though this listener can’t quite agree (thinking “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” – with its heavy debt to Chopin’s Op. 35 – could also work with a small ensemble), Mr. Kriz did a splendid job. As many know, there is a special appeal in playing the villain, and Mr. Kriz did so with exceptionally nasty relish. The pianist, Frantisek Krticka, unleashed his own wicked vaudevillian fire to match. Beyond this, the singers had great support all evening from guitarist Craig Klonowski, violinists Chrystelle Catalano and Viktor Jan Kuru, violist Vladan Malinjak, and cellist Simon Marek.

For the next selection, “A Whole New World” from Aladdin (Alan Menken) the group introduced their first special guest, soprano Heather Malakani, joined by the four tenors. Ms. Malakani seemed in her element singing as Princess Jasmine, a role she has sung extensively. Her lovely soprano sound balanced beautifully with the four lower voices. She then took the solo spotlight with “Astonishing” from Little Women (Jason Howland). Here was a more intimate outpouring, and she plumbed its depths with drama and passion, receiving a loud cheering ovation.

4 Musical Tenors & Friends. Photo Credit: Rebecca J. Michelson

Emotions of longing continued to flow as the four tenors returned to the stage for a stirring rendition of “Bring Him Home” from Les Misérables (C. Schönberg). It was clear that all four felt a strong attachment to this musical, having all played roles in it, and their performance was heart-rending. It led well to the evening’s only true opera aria, Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma” from Turandot, sung by Michael Bragagnolo (described in introductory remarks as the most operatic of the four tenors, with a nod to his Italian roots). Mr. Bragagnolo’s powerful operatic resonance was commanding, right up to the infamous high B in the final word “vincerò” which typically leaves an audience gasping – this audience being no exception.

Shifting away from opera, the four singers then reconvened for “Can’t Help Falling in Love” (made famous by Elvis Presley and featured in the musical All Shook Up (Peretti / Creatore / Weiss). It was a beauty, as was the subsequent selection,  the nostalgic “Massachusetts” (B. Gibb/R. Gibb/M. Gibb). The latter was introduced with an invitation for the audience to join in – and one cringed slightly at the thought, as such a song can be rather unforgiving for “herd singing” – but mercifully the only singing was from the stage. Sometimes it’s best to leave such things to experts – and they came through beautifully.

Four Sondheim hits followed, including the first solo for Pavel Vitek, “Send in the Clowns” from A Little Night Music. Mr. Vitek captured its melancholy perfectly, with poignant pauses just where they would convey the song’s spirit the most. A Bernstein-Sondheim collaboration followed, with all four tenors savoring the perennial favorite “Maria” from West Side Story. More from West Side Story would be heard, with their second special guest Daniel Assetta joining the quartet, but first Mr. Assetta took the spotlight with Sondheim’s “Losing My Mind” from Follies. This listener has never been a huge fan of this song, but Mr. Assetta’s thoughtful and persuasive interpretation really “sold” it, showing what artistry can do. “Somewhere” from West Side Story (Bernstein/Sondheim) found all four tenors returning to form a quintet with Mr. Assetta to good effect.

After what was close to an hour of music (and what might have been time for intermission, had there been one) there were six songs left, the first four by Andrew Lloyd Webber. The first Webber selection was “Till I Hear You Sing” from Love Never Dies, performed by the four tenors with great tenderness. The following three were from The Phantom of the Opera, starting with”The Music of The Night” with Marian Vojtko as soloist. Mr. Vojtko, who has sung the title  role in productions of the musical, exhibited a huge range, from his breathy opening to his expansive development and peaks in an extreme treble register. One had noticed throughout the evening that Mr. Vojtko had shown a supportive versatility in the ensemble pieces – but here it was front and center.

The evening’s third and final guest, Rachel Zatcoff, was introduced next to continue the Webber-fest, and she took the stage for “Think of Me” (again from The Phantom of the Opera). Having sung the role of Christine in this musical, she was clearly in her comfort zone, and she gave the song a virtuosic ride, complete with dazzling high notes in a cadenza near its close. The audience seemed enthralled and gave her a standing ovation. Mr. Vojtko and then the rest of the quartet came on to join her in the title number, “The Phantom Of The Opera,”  cranking up the drama alongside still more stratospheric high notes from Ms. Zatcoff.

The group then announced that their final song would be next, “You Raise Me Up” by Rolf Løvland  – it was beautifully done, but this listener was sad, as the program had also listed a finale of “Seasons of Love,” from Rent (Jonathan Larson) – a seemingly perfect closer. As it turned out though, the Rent hit was performed afterwards, and it brought the house down. All seven singers came onstage to cap off what was truly a memorable evening – and for this, the audience did join in, unasked.

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

David Witten, pianist;

Grace Renée Pfleger, mezzo-soprano;

Italian Academy, Columbia University, New York, NY

April 16, 2026

Among the exciting celebrations of America’s musical heritage this year so far (the Semiquincentennial of the USA, as some call it), was an April recital entitled “From Sea to Shining Sea: Music to Celebrate America’s 250th Birthday,” given by respected pianist and professor David Witten. Listed under the aegis of Carnegie Hall as part of their festival “United in Sound: America at 250,” the concert took place at the Italian Academy for Advanced Studies in America at Columbia University (also listed as presenter). For the record, this listener was not at the live concert itself, but an excellent video of the complete event (by Asaf Blasberg) was provided for review.

It has been fascinating to see how many kaleidoscopic programs have already been built this year on American music – many with completely different repertoire, reflecting the nation’s great musical diversity. Several works on Mr. Witten’s program were in fact unfamiliar to this reviewer. Rather than simply featuring traditional favorites, his selections included some by composers whose births preceded the nation’s founding and on through the twentieth century. The program moved from works of Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791), Alexander Reinagle (1756-1809), and Louis Moreau Gottschalk (1829-1869) up to Charles Ives (1874-1954), Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco (1895-1968), and Judith Lang Zaimont (b. 1945). The result was historically illuminating, as well as moving and entertaining.

The entertainment aspect appears to be a special gift of this pianist, who excels as a curator and raconteur, radiating warmth and humor as he invites us into the musical equivalent of a curiosity shop. Not to understate his credentials as a pianist, which are substantial (see his website- David Witten), his gifts beyond the piano are what made the occasion especially memorable.

The concert opened with the Sonata No. 2 in E major (1790) (from The Philadelphia Sonatas) by Alexander Reinagle. Mr. Witten introduced the work with some background about Reinagle’s life in Philadelphia (where George Washington and his family lived), and set the scene for the piece, speculating that Washington may have attended one of the many concerts at which such pieces were presented.

While Reinagle certainly is interesting from a historical perspective, filling in some blanks for those early American years when most masterpieces were coming from Europe, the Sonata No. 2 is hard to embrace. Bearing signs of the influence of C. P. E. Bach, it blends the latter’s mercurial, improvisatory keyboard style with more rigid formulaic elements, so that moments of high drama move to facile resolutions in puzzling ways – as if heated disagreements are being followed by the words “have a nice day” and the like. The first movement in particular is not easy to pull off convincingly and seems in some ways to be in search of itself, just as America was in its formative years. Some have handled the structure of it by facing its capriciousness head-on, with strong dynamic differentiation and very decisive and deliberate transitions between otherwise strict tempi. This was not so much the case here, but overall Mr. Witten handled it well, leaving out repeats to good effect and omitting some ornaments that would have weighed things down. In particular, he handled the second movement Adagio well, with strong conviction. The lively final Allegro benefited from his brisk tempo, crisp articulation, and what one guesses was his own tasteful extemporizing where needed.

Mr. Witten then introduced several works by Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, a composer known for having written scores for some 200 films among his many works. It seems only fitting to have included the work of an Italian-American composer, given the Italian venue and presenting organization, but Castelnuovo-Tedesco was an especially welcome choice, as his work is still relatively underplayed compared to that of some of his contemporaries. It is highly evocative, as we might expect from a prolific film composer, and it deserves to be heard. We were fortunate here to hear his Autunno (Autumn) from Le Stagioni (The Seasons), Op. 33 composed in 1924, Two Film Studies, Op. 67 composed in 1931, and a selection entitled Deanna Durbin from a set entitled Stars: Four Sketches for Piano, Op. 104 composed in 1940.

The Autunno selection was a discovery for this reviewer, and Mr. Witten’s performance of it was enchanting, with gentleness in the right hand’s fluid streams and remarkable sensitivity to its harmonic colors. The Two Film Studies brought a welcome note of lightness. The first one, Charlie, was named after Charlie Chaplin, and its dissonant repeating patterns evoked the title character’s famous walk, along with his trademark mixture of the serious with the comedic. The second of the Film Studies, entitled Mickey Mouse (Topolino), needs little explanation – Mr. Witten captured the antics with a mischievous elasticity of tempo and delivered (with a perfect poker face) the composer’s playful references to the Toreador Song from Bizet’s Carmen and bits of Vissi d’arte of Puccini. The sketch Deanna Durbin from Op. 104 capped off the set with easy ebullience (though it certainly would not be called “easy” as a piece) and a flair worthy of its Hollywood honoree. One could hear audience members’ delight in response.

Moving the program back in time to 1788, Mr. Witten introduced mezzo-soprano Grace Renée Pfleger, with whom he would collaborate on selections from Songs for Harpsichord or Fortepiano by Francis Hopkinson. Additionally, he offered some of the history of Hopkinson, whom he described as not only a composer but an artist (who designed one of the first flags of the US), poet, and lawyer. Most remarkably, he was one of the founding fathers who signed the Declaration of Independence. Frankly, simply knowing the very history of this composer made hearing these pieces an engaging experience, though purely musically they all seemed to owe a heavy debt to Handel and other earlier masters. We heard the first, Come, Fair Rosina,  the second, My Love is Gone to Sea, and the sixth, Over the Hills. It was a refreshing choice to throw some vocal music into the mix.

Ms. Pfleger – described in her promotional materials as “an opera singer, music therapist, and community advocate” – brought a charming stage presence and sincere expressiveness to these songs. Particularly winsome was the innocence and sorrow she conveyed in My Love is Gone to Sea. She is currently pursuing her Artist Diploma on full scholarship at the Cali School of Music at Montclair State University. Mr. Witten accompanied her ably, as one would expect, reclaiming his solo role afterwards for the program’s final offerings, selections from A Calendar Set (1972-78) by Judith Lang Zaimont, Variations on ‘America’ (1891) for Organ by Charles Ives, and The Banjo (1853) by Louis Moreau Gottschalk.

There were just two selections chosen from Ms. Zaimont’s twelve-month set – November and July in that order. As Mr. Witten explained, he included July – “of course” – as, even with all its dissonance, there are three patriotic songs in it. As for the rationale behind November, Mr. Witten shared that, when pianists play only selections from the set Ms. Zaimont requests that they include the month of their birth, and Mr. Witten was born in November. At any rate, both were fine additions to the program, November for its austere beauty (prefaced by the quotation “November’s sky is chill and drear” of Sir Walter Scott) and July (“The Glorious Fourth!”) for its references to The Stars and Stripes Forever along with snippets of Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean and Yankee Doodle. Well done!

The penultimate work of the program was Variations on ‘America’ for Organ (1891), composed by Charles Ives at age seventeen and arranged for piano by Mr. Witten. Based on the anthem that is also called My Country ‘Tis of Thee, it was a good choice to project a mixture of national spirit and Ives’s own brand of individualism and trademark cacophony. Mr. Witten played it with panache.

The program closed with a spirited rendition of The Banjo (1853), Gottschalk’s once ubiquitous showstopper. It was great to hear again after years of not encountering it on recitals, and Mr. Witten conveyed well its carefree innocence and joyous spirit. Kudos go to him for including it, and for the whole memorable recital. I’ll just conclude by saying, “Encore!”

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