Pianists Nana Miyoshi, Maxine Park, Crystal Chen, Andy Liao, and Rixiang Huang

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 19, 2019

Two large Weill Hall recitals were presented this Sunday to feature winners of the 2019 Alexander and Buono Competitions (alexanderbuono.com), the first featuring winners of the Barry Alexander International Vocal Competition (covered in a separate review) and the second, covered here, featuring the winners of the Bradshaw and Buono International Piano Competition (named for the two-piano team of Cosmo Buono and the late David Bradshaw). Messrs. Buono and Alexander were present to get the evening started with a few words, after which five excellent prizewinners took turns onstage, three before intermission and two after. Their prize categories were Elementary School (ages 4-11), Middle School (12-14), High School (15-18), Amateur Adults, and College/Adults.

The youngest category’s winner, Nana Miyoshi, opened the program with Mozart’s Sonata in F Major, K. 332. While one regularly hears very young pianists play selected movements of Mozart Sonatas, it is less common to hear one in its entirety, due to the required concentration and tonal control, especially for an inner slow movement. Ms. Miyoshi played the entire work with a poise and polish that belied her young years – and it was no small feat just to walk onto the stage of this storied hall and be the first performer of five. (For an excellent description of the rigors of such group recitals, one recommends once again the following review by Alexandra Eames: (Rutgers Pianists in Review)

As one expects of a prizewinner, Ms. Miyoshi was technically reliable in realizing Mozart’s score, but she also showed the beginnings of deeper interpretation of it, particularly in her first movement. The first dramatic C-sharp heralding the move to D minor was full of the operatic intensity one often wishes that more adult performers would project. Moments in the second movement were a bit romanticized for this listener (including generously rolled chords and instances of the left hand preceding right), but all in all the lyricism was quite appealing. With time, this young pianist will gain the ability to gauge the tone of longer note values so that they can last and connect ever more smoothly to subsequent tones, but again the phrasing was generally quite graceful for one so young. The last movement showcased Ms. Miyoshi’s impressively sparkling passagework, with only some telltale rushing reflecting her youth and the excitement of the day.

The second performer was Maxine Park, age fourteen, who played Bach and Chopin. First came five movements from Bach’s Partita No. 2 in C minor (sadly omitting just the Courante). Ms. Park showed outstanding decisiveness from the first notes of the Sinfonia, delivering the double-dotted rhythms with crispness and confidence. Though this reviewer felt there could be more nuance even within the French Overture spirit, such preferences are personal – and again one reminds oneself that this performer is younger than the coats in this reviewer’s closet! Ms. Park sailed through this work’s brisk dance movements with assuredness, and slower sections were thoughtfully rendered. All movements were played with no repeats, except in the Sarabande, which enjoyed some tasteful elaborations on the second iteration. The final Capriccio was wonderfully precise in its leaping tenths, showing excellent pianism, rhythm, and ebullience.

Moving on to Chopin’s Sonata No. 3 in B minor, Op. 58 (just the first movement), Ms. Park showed her interpretive potential in a more Romantic vein, making good sense of a movement many consider unwieldy. It is a bit surprising to hear such a young player take on such a mature work even in these days of prodigies abounding, but Ms. Park did so with admirable projection of the varying moods and skillful transitions throughout. Despite a small misfire in the early measures – something one has heard from numerous seasoned professionals – it was clear that Ms. Park has the technique and temperament to be a strong interpreter one day, if she chooses to be. One can expect great achievements from her as she continues to develop.

Still within the category of pre-college years (now high school) was Crystal Chen, age sixteen, playing selections by Beethoven, Liszt, and Bartok. She started with the first movement of Beethoven’s Sonata in C major, Op. 2, No. 3, in which she made short work of the challenges, from its tricky opening thirds to heraldic broken octaves, all with hearty Beethovenian spirit. As with Ms. Park’s single movement of the Chopin, one was reminded that we were in effect hearing an encore of a typical prize-winning audition, rather than a preview of the concerts these young pianists may give one day as full-fledged soloists, but audience members who liked what they heard will simply have to stay tuned for what is to come.

Ms. Chen followed her Beethoven with a fierce performance of Liszt’s La Campanella from the Grandes Études de Paganini. La Campanella can fall somewhere between target practice and a kamikaze mission, so those who choose to perform it live – and at such an important occasion, with little warming up and much unpredictability – deserve kudos for bravery alone. Ms. Chen was more than up to the task, though, and if it was not exactly a model of neatness, it certainly whipped up a huge lather towards the end, lifting her practically off the bench in the pursuit of a big sound – which she did indeed achieve. The audience was thrilled. She closed the first half with a bristling account of the first movement of Bartók’s Piano Sonata, another bold choice showing her power and potential.

Interestingly enough, some of the most satisfying music-making of the evening came through the hands of Andy Liao, from the so-called “Amateur” category, though if he is called amateur, then heaven help the professionals! Mr. Liao offered just one complete piece, Ginastera’s demanding Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 22. He gave it a great ride, with a wide dynamic and emotional range and plenty of technique for its tremendous pianistic demands. From the declamatory opening through the smoldering presto misterioso and ensuing Adagio, one felt that there was no note without intent. The Ruvido final movement had just the right driving energy, stirring the audience to a rousing ovation. This piece has had many passionate champions – the name Terrence Judd springs to mind as a favorite – but Mr. Liao now holds a place among them. Bravo!

The final performer, Rixiang Huang, faced quite a difficult task in following so much extraordinary piano music – and in a recital starting at 6:30pm his own offerings finished close to 9pm. As Mr. Huang won in the College/Adult category, it was natural that the presenters wanted to feature him as the concert’s grand finale – and in a wide spectrum of repertoire – but somewhere along the way, the notion of strain on the audience was lost. Though there were some audience members who came and left, present especially to hear their friend or relative, the listener who is present from start to finish ought to be considered as well. Even the hardiest music-lovers reach a point of aural saturation. By the time Mr. Huang walked onto the stage, this listener was ready to hear perhaps one more small piece but probably not another miniature recital. Such matters should be considered, lest the presenters do their winners a disservice.

Despite the above mentioned issues, Mr. Huang appeared unfazed as he calmly wiped the piano keys before his own long segment of the program. His confidence, as one discovered, was well justified, as this young man knows how to play! Currently a Master of Music degree candidate at Juilliard studying with Matti Raekallio and Jerome Lowenthal, Mr. Huang offered a mini-recital made up of Haydn’s Sonata in E minor Hob XVI.34, Beethoven’s Sonata in F-sharp major, Op. 78, Los Requiebros from Goyescas by Granados, and, to cap the evening off, Liszt’s Dante Sonata.

The Haydn could have easily been omitted, as it did not seem to show qualities unique to Mr. Huang and was challenging to listen to with fresh ears after the Ginastera; that said, Mr. Huang gave it good attention to detail, in particular the slow movement which reflected well the improvisatory style associated with C. P. E. Bach whom Haydn highly respected. Repeats were omitted, except in the last movement.

The Beethoven that followed, the two-movement Op. 78, was a refreshing choice, as it is often bypassed in favor of the more dramatic Sonatas Opp. 53, 57, 110, and others, though it is a beautiful and ingenious work. Mr. Huang played it commendably, with sensitivity in its lyrical opening and great care in the details of articulation and dynamics in its later flights.

Still more lyrical was Los Requiebros, and there was a suavity about this performance that was just right. Mr. Huang seemed to feel quite at home with this Spanish style of musical dreaming, and it was a good bridge into the Romanticism that followed in the form of Liszt’s Dante Sonata, properly named Après une lecture du Dante: Fantasia quasi Sonata from the Années de Pèlerinage, V. II. Here, in the Liszt, came the style of virtuosity for which Mr. Huang stood out the most. The Dante Sonata is notorious for its ferocious octave demands. In this reviewer’s conservatory years, a dear class clown when offended would issue mock threats to play “Dante Sonata on your head” – and in all seriousness, it is that fiendish; in Mr. Huang’s hands, however, it was child’s play. Moreover, the music always came across, never devolving into mere noise. Mr. Huang moved easily from the softest tremolos to superb arpeggiated elaborations and, yes, torrents of octaves (and he may have broken speed records in some of those torrents!). He was, in a word, superb.

All in all, it was an auspicious evening for five highly promising pianists. One hopes to hear more from all of them in the future. Congratulations to all.

Ivan Ženatý, violin, Dmitri Vorobiev, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 9, 2019

It is one of the joys of long-term reviewing (nearly thirteen years now) to re-hear an artist one praised years before and find one’s earlier impressions not only confirmed but intensified. In 2012, I first heard the violinist Ivan Ženatý in music of Dvořák, Janáček, and Smetana, and wrote glowingly. This week, in music of Robert Schumann, Edvard Grieg, Oskar Nedbal (1874-1930), and Juraj Filas (b. 1955), he was possibly even greater. His pianist was Dmitri Vorobiev, who was also superb.

For those who are not familiar with the Czech violinist, Ivan Ženatý, he has a discography of over forty recordings including the complete works of Telemann, Bach, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Schulhoff, Dvořák and Grieg, and his repertoire includes over fifty violin concertos from Bach through Britten. He has taught at the Cleveland Institute for Music and is currently Professor of Music at the Royal Academy of Music in Copenhagen. Being a prizewinner in the prestigious Tchaikovsky International Violin Competition some decades ago has become almost parenthetical among his credentials – and that says a lot. For more information one can visit www.ivanzenaty.com.

His program offered many enticements, not the least of which was the first work, Schumann’s Märchenbilder, Op. 113, from 1851. Though one generally falls in love with this set as a viola work, it works as a violin piece as well, with some parts simply raised by an octave, and others with reworked arpeggio inversions and the like. It was, in fact, dedicated to the violinist Joseph Wasielewski, a good friend of Robert and Clara Schumann. Though this listener still prefers the work on the viola, especially the inspired depths of the fourth and final piece, the music speaks in almost any incarnation as long as there are sensitive interpreters, and there certainly were on this occasion. Mr. Ženatý played with the refinement and thorough musicianship one has come to expect from him, and Mr. Vorobiev was right with him. There was the flexible artistry that is possible only with complete trust in the collaborators’ responsiveness. It didn’t hurt either that Mr. Ženatý plays a rare Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu violin made in 1740 (thanks to the Harmony Foundation).

Oskar Nedbal (1874-1930), pupil of Dvořák, was the composer of the next work, the Sonata in B minor, Op. 9, for Violin and Piano. For full disclosure, I can’t recall hearing this Sonata in live concert ever, and though an internet search will yield some scattered recorded files of it, most are by – you guessed it – Ivan Ženatý. Nedbal may be best known for his shorter Valse Triste, which is in the repertoire of Czech orchestras. Mr. Ženatý has performed a valuable service for music and musicology by investing his energy and interpretive artistry into this work, and though the composer may not rival Brahms or Beethoven in a musician’s pantheon, it was fascinating to hear, both for its Dvořák connections and its idiomatic and brilliant writing. Both pianist and violinist conveyed its Romantic spirit and drama well, making short work of the spates of stormy virtuoso passages. They lent it the persuasiveness that comes from truly believing in a piece’s worth. I for one will aim to give it several more hearings.

Both players, despite the tremendous technical demands of the program, never flagged or played up the showman aspect with physical demonstrativeness. That integrity was familiar from Mr. Ženatý’s last recital, and he clearly has a gift for finding pianists with similar virtues. It was an evening of pure music-making at the highest level.

After intermission we heard Les adieux for Violin and piano by Slovakian composer Juraj Filas (b. 1955), who was present for the performance. As Mr. Ženatý wrote in the program notes, “During a very happy period in my life, I asked Juraj for a ‘Romance’ for Violin and Piano. Instead, he wrote, ‘Les Adieux’ for me in 2003, a romantic story about lost love; terribly sad but magically beautiful…” Indeed, the piece lived up to this description, with extremely poignant harmonies underscoring its lyrical lines. Mr. Filas came to the stage for a much-earned bow afterwards.

The final work, Grieg’s Sonata in C minor, Op. 45 (1886), was feast of music-making in all respects. From the first movement’s driving intensity – and the purity of its gentler E-flat theme – right up to the final movement’s triumphant major ending, there was no moment without commitment and character. Mr. Ženatý is far from self-indulgent, and because of such restraint, the listener is even more captivated by the occasional Romantic flourish, lingering, or slide. One heard the seasoned veteran’s ability to be expressive within boundaries and with respect for proportion.

Technically no hurdle was too great for this duo, and incidentally the piano lid was all the way up, with no problems of balance resulting. Mr. Vorobiev was able to keep the torrents of notes within his controlled grasp and unafraid to take the lead where called for, though never intrusively.

The audience gave a much-deserved standing ovation but rushed to sit down again at the prospect of an encore. When De Falla’s Spanish Dance was announced one could hear a gratified “mmm” from the hall, and no one was disappointed. Mr. Ženatý tossed off the Kreisler arrangement with dazzling skill and panache. As grounding as it was to hear such a thorough musician for an entire program, it was a delight to see him having fun just reveling in some fireworks. Mr. Vorobiev collaborated expertly.

Incidentally, not that one assesses an artist by his following, one simply could not help appreciating the audience itself – not for sheer size (though it was large) but for apparent musical awareness. The duo clearly attracted experienced listeners, and they responded to performers’ mastery. In many spellbinding moments, one could hear the proverbial pin drop (not the shuffling and unwrapping of candies, as often occurs). Upon entering one even overheard a ticketholder mentioning that he “came to hear the Nedbal” (and one wondered whether Nedbal himself had encountered that as often as he should have).

It was an evening to reaffirm one’s faith in unwavering high standards. Bravo!

Jinho Hwang, tenor; Steven Crawford, pianist

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

March 22, 2019

Sogno di Primavera, or Dream of Spring, was the title of tenor Jinho Hwang’s recent recital at the National Opera Center, and it was an evening that reflected Romantic dreams as well as optimistic beginnings. Though Mr. Hwang is not at the beginning of his career, with various prizes and noteworthy operatic appearances behind him, he seems to be enjoying a comeback of sorts after some unspecified medical challenge he alluded to from the stage at the end of the concert – and he appears to have fully recovered. The audience, many of whom undoubtedly have been with him through it all, were fervently supporting him.

Mr. Hwang’s program was full of impassioned and sensuous music about love and nature, predominantly Italian art songs (Bellini and Tosti) with a few Italian opera arias (Donizetti, Verdi, and Cilea), a French aria (Massenet), and two Korean songs (by Panghil Park and Geung Soo Lim). The texts were wide-ranging, suggesting longing, nostalgia, euphoria, and despondency, and brimming with Romantic imagery of roses, rivers, kisses and tears. The works lived up to the title, Dream of Spring – with Tosti’s Aprile feeling especially fitting as we speed toward the end of March.

As for Mr. Hwang himself, he seems to possess all of the vocal ingredients that one should need for a fine career; the main question, though, is how he will use those ingredients, in what balance, to what degree when, and in what repertoire. He has an extremely powerful voice, for example, and yet it did not always work to his advantage in a hall with such extremely live acoustics as the Marc A. Scorca Hall at the National Opera Center. One is faced generally with several choices in such cases: switch halls, switch repertoire, or scale down one’s dynamics. One would hesitate to suggest switching halls, as this one is a fine, intimate space and boasts a nice seven-foot Yamaha piano. The repertoire switch is probably not the answer either, as, even in the more delicate pieces such as Tosti’s A vucchella, the sound still came across as overly bright. The remaining option is to make big vocal adjustments, something any artist needs to learn to do throughout a career – and yet all remained overpowering. One was left guessing whether the hall acoustics were misleading from the performer’s standpoint or the dominance of such a consistently big sound was actually an artistic preference. There also seemed to be a preponderance of high drama from which some quieter miniatures would have offered relief, the sort of gentle miniature that is perhaps not typical on an audition demo recording but exists as art. Programming is an art in itself, and ideally it balances dramatic tension and urgency with release.

Music of the bel canto master Vincenzo Bellini opened the concert. Rather than opt for Bellini’s operatic arias, Mr. Hwang chose five songs from the more intimate Ariette da Camera (omitting only the fourth, Almen se non poss’io). The first two selections, Ma rendi pur contento and Malinconia ninfa gentile had glimmers of the beautiful timbres of which this singer is capable, but it seemed that Mr. Hwang was already working for large-scale operatic projection, as if directing his sound to the back row at La Scala. This approach did not reel in the listener as one hopes from an opener, but rather tended to draw the listener’s ears toward whatever imperfections of intonation there may have been as the singer was still finding his stride. Mr. Hwang does not appear to make things easy on himself.

In Vanne, o rosa fortunata, the superb collaborative pianist Steven Crawford provided a gently playful introduction, and it set the tone for a more relaxed, less stentorian approach. Mr Hwang here reflected more of the character of the text and also sang with delight in the diction (one dazzlingly rolled “R” comes to mind).

The following Bellini selections, Bella Nice, che d’amore and Per pietà, bell’idol mio again showed tremendous power. The latter enjoyed some glorious high notes, and Mr. Hwang was especially compelling in the unaccompanied sections, as if his gifts had been waiting for the cue to soar with increased freedom. More of that freedom elsewhere, paired with a search for more dynamic low points, will help deepen these pieces even further.

Two twentieth-century Korean pieces followed the Bellini group, Twilight over the mountain by Pan Ghil Park and As if spring comes across the river by Geung Soo Lim. Both were evocative in the manner of film scores, and both showed the singer at his most expressive so far. He then turned to opera arias to close the program’s first half, maximizing the drama in Donizetti’s Una furtive lagrima (from L’elisir d’amore) and lending a swagger to Verdi’s La mia Letizia infondere (from I Lombardi). He was quite visibly expressive in both of these, and – it should be mentioned as well – had a regal bearing throughout, which should serve him well in his operatic roles.

A beautiful array of six art songs by Francesco Tosti opened the second half. La serenata brought a gently rolling feeling to the program, and Mr. Hwang sang it with a natural ease, as it demands. It was followed by L’ultima canzone, A vucchella, Ideale, Aprile, and finally L’alba separa dalla luce l’ombra, all with moments that reminded one in purely vocal qualities of some of the great tenors of the past. What will ripen these pieces further will be more of a focus on the musical uniqueness of each one, irrespective of any issues of technique, passaggio or vocal fixations of any kind. It is always interesting to note how even many of the so-called technical challenges fall more easily into place as one gets away from audition-style demonstrations of skill and goes more deeply into the music. Of course, the opera world is filled with buzz about this or that singer’s “high C” and other strenuous achievements, but many listeners simply want music, with all its nuance, color, and variety.

The last two works were dramatic tours de force which elicited Mr. Hwang’s all, Massenet’s Pourquoi me réveiller (from Werther), with some magnificent vocal peaks, and Cilea’s E la solita storia del pastore (from L’Arlesiana). They closed the program with brilliance from both performers, drawing hearty ovations from the audience. There is no question that this singer has remarkable gifts, and – as one noticed a video camera filming it all from the back – one imagines some of the concert will result in some excellent demos and roles to come. There is much promise for Jinho Hwang – now may he enjoy the ride!

After some humble thanks to his friends, family, and God, Mr. Hwang announced that he would sing one more song, Grace of God. He sang it in Korean, with considerable emotion, and it was quite moving.