Rorianne Schrade | New York Concert Review, Inc.

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Presents Magnificat in Review

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International;

Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Principal Conductor; Nancy Menk, Guest Conductor;

Claire Leyden, Soprano; Lindsey Anderson, Mezzo-Soprano; Jennifer Zetlan, Soprano

Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 17, 2019

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented another large-scale concert this weekend, entitled Magnificat: Music in Celebration of International Women’s Day. The first half included works by Johannes Michael Haydn, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Johannes Brahms, Libby Larsen, Ola Gjeilo, and Zachary Moore, all for women’s choir and orchestra under the direction of Dr. Nancy Menk. The second half was entirely devoted to John Rutter’s Magnificat for mixed choir and orchestra, under the direction of DCINY Artistic Director Jonathan Griffith. As ever, it was an extravaganza, with several hundred voices from all over the world and audience members barely able to contain their excitement, applause, and cheers.

The Magnificat text was present not only in Rutter’s great piece by that name on the second half, but also in several works on the first half. For those unfamiliar with the term Magnificat, it traditionally refers to the musical setting of the Canticle [or Biblical hymn] of Mary, which contains the words that the Virgin Mary spoke (according to the Gospel of Saint Luke) right after the Annunciation (the announcement by the Angel Gabriel that she would soon be giving birth to Jesus Christ). Magnificat settings can also include words spoken to Mary at the Annunciation, and also those about her, along with related texts of the Gloria, Ave Maria (Hail Mary) and more, but in any case, a concert dedicated to the Magnificat centers upon Mary.

Magnificat was thus an appropriate name for a Women’s Day celebration and for a concert billed as a celebration of the 175^th Anniversary of Saint Mary’s College in South Bend, Indiana (Saint Mary here also referring to the Virgin Mary). Two choirs from Saint Mary’s College, their college choir and alumnae choir, represented the school well under Dr. Menk, their Chair of Music, who led them through works in varied styles, including a work which the college commissioned from Libby Larsen 25 years ago, Canticle of Mary. Their combined forces, along with the rest of the Distinguished Concert Singers International, totaled around 260 choristers to share the stage with the Distinguished Concerts Orchestra.

The programming was brilliant, not monochromatic as one might expect with such unity of theme, and even the staunchest atheist would probably acknowledge the power of the music itself, along with its fascinating history. The concert opened with Johann Michael Haydn, the underappreciated younger brother of Franz Joseph Haydn, and his brief beautiful Magnificat served as a somewhat restrained classical greeting before the more involved works to come. It also provided an introduction to this half’s two soloists, soprano Claire Leyden and mezzo-soprano Lindsey Anderson, both excellent.

In complete contrast with the Haydn, the Vaughan Williams Magnificat followed, its mystical atmosphere intensified by shadowy chromaticism and sinuous flute lines. This setting is no heavenly harmony suggesting a serene Mary, but rather an eerie evocation of supernatural forces, its imaginative orchestration eliciting awe from the start. Mezzo Lindsey Anderson was the powerful soloist, singing with outstanding tonal control and a projection of the music’s mystery and grandeur. In what was skillful programming, the Ave Maria, Op. 12 of Brahms followed, relatively delicate in its orchestration, moving to simpler F major harmonies and a lighter pastoral spirit. The chorus sang it with reverent purity.

Dr. Menk conducted expertly throughout her portion of the program, but her skill was especially in evidence in the remaining works, including Libby Larsen’s Canticle of Mary, a canticle of unusual jubilation. Opening with an oboe solo, which in the composer’s words “represents the exuberance and free spirit” of Mary, the piece pulses with anticipation and joy. The choral singers gave their all, and soprano Claire Leyden sent her piercingly beautiful solo soaring from a balcony near the stage.

Ola Gjeilo’s Gloria followed with similar joy, here in a more folk-like vein and sung with gusto. If the theme of Mary was not overt in the final work, Always Keep This Close, by Zachary J. Moore (b.1992), the overall theme of women was certainly present, with text by Colleen Carhuff expressing the love of singing in a women’s choir. Starting out with nostalgic warmth, it built to a tremendous peak, closing with the repeated words “We are one.” The combined choruses were indeed one.

To cap off a brilliantly conceived concert, the second half featured the Magnificat of leading British choral composer, John Rutter (b. 1945). Larger in scope than the Magnificats heard earlier on the program (the longest of those being the twelve-minute Vaughan Williams piece), Rutter’s work spans forty minutes over the course of seven movements. It was interesting to compare how differently Rutter set some of the same text as other composers, for example, the line “the rich he hath sent empty away” which Vaughan Williams punctuated with dramatic rests, while Rutter chose to set it to gentle soothing harmonies. Clearly such a text has inexhaustible possibilities.

John Rutter is a master of his art, and the listener was held in his thrall from his Magnificat’s very first notes. Though Rutter has strangely been criticized for incorporating elements of lighter twentieth-century music (as if he is to remain in an aesthetic vacuum), his music is indisputably rooted in a British tradition that includes Benjamin Britten, David Willcocks, and others. His Magnificat reflects eclectic influences of the late twentieth century as well, but all in what seems to this listener to be a perfectly organic way.

In the first movement, Magnificat anima mea, there are shifts from the feeling of 3/4 to 6/8 via sharp accents, establishing an immediate energy, and these were projected with vigor by the performers. The mood was suitably contemplative in the movement Of a Rose, a lovely Rose, a movement hearkening back to works by Bach and other earlier composers, but the music regained the brassy power of the twentieth century in the third movement, Quia fecit mihi magna. Full mixed choruses produced a big sound, including fifteen choirs from California, Colorado, Indiana, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia, as well as Australia, Canada, and the UK, and, as DCINY always lists “individual singers from around the globe.” Jonathan Griffith held the masses together beautifully, as always.

Superb soprano Jennifer Zetlan was the soloist throughout this work, and her fluid golden tones were particularly beautiful in the fourth movement, Et Misericordia, conveying a sense of solace after the prior fanfares – and before the muscle-flexing fifth movement, Fecit potentiam. The latter was given such assertive projection by the lower voices that it seemed at any moment ready to burst into,“the Jets are gonna have their way tonight” (from Bernstein’s West Side Story) – in other words, it was not lacking in testosterone! One could only admire the way Rutter developed his material here in brilliant imitation before subsiding with the final line about the meek (humiles). The milder Esurientes followed, opening gently with harp and affirming heavenly promises, with the help again of lovely solo lines from Ms. Zetlan, and the subsequent Gloria Patri with cymbal crashes (and the return of the opening rhythms) made for a triumphant end to this wonderful work. It was a triumphant end to a great concert as well. Congratulations to all involved, and encore!

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

A Splendid Torch – Two Evenings in New York

George Bernard Shaw wrote that “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” Saint Patrick’s Day seems a good time to remember these words of the wise Dubliner, and two age-defying performances in New York this past weekend seemed to support that saying. One was a play at the Cort Theatre with the inimitable Glenda Jackson, age 83, in the title role of Shakespeare’s King Lear, and the other was a cello concert at Symphony Space (the Thalia) by Harry Wimmer, now in his nineties. Both evenings were a mix of the theatrical and the musical, King Lear drawing many musicians to hear the incidental music composed especially for it by Philip Glass (b. 1937), and Harry Wimmer’s program “Laugh a Little” blending his highly celebrated cello playing with related puns, witticisms, and sayings of Shakespeare and others. Both were evenings not to be forgotten.

The King Lear production, currently in previews, is directed by Sam Gold and offers a chance to see the legendary Glenda Jackson in the classically male title role that she brought to the Old Vic in London three years ago, causing quite a stir. That gender-bending issue proved here not to be so focal as much as her age – Glenda Jackson is simply too young (“kidding, not kidding,” as the children say). Seriously, one couldn’t help noticing that Ms. Jackson had clearer delivery and projection than nearly every other actor as she held the audience spellbound. As Lear’s world crumbled, she even seemed physically to shrink, such is her acting power, only to expand enough to hold her dying Cordelia. She inhabits this role three hours a night, seven days a week, and is, as my usually understated guest called her on Friday, “off-the-charts amazing.”

And the music? I had my doubts about adding music of Philip Glass to King Lear, but all doubts were allayed. It was delicately wrought, performed onstage but far in the back by a string quartet and later switching with the scene changes to other corners of the stage. The musicians were violinists Cenovia Cummins and Martin Agee, violist Chris Cardone, and cellist Stephanie Cummins, and they were appropriately unobtrusive with some special lyrical moments. Alternating a distant texture of minor thirds and wavering tritones with episodes of greater intensity (and silence), the music reflected occasionally a hint of Elizabethan spirit, though most of it was in keeping with the hypnotic Glass style most of us know and appreciate; Glass fans coming to focus on this music will have trouble, however, as it had a transparency (no pun intended) that allowed the focus to be elsewhere, as one would hope. The production itself seemed to this reviewer to throw in too many distractions from Shakespeare’s own powerful language, but then it is still in its previews and may likely take on more of the power of its lead.

“All the world’s a stage, and most of us are desperately unrehearsed” said Sean O’Casey, and we have Harry Wimmer to thank for reminding us of the bon mot, one of many choice quips throughout his Saturday evening concert, “Laugh a Little” (including words of Shakespeare, Shaw, Melville, Wilde, Prokofiev, Ogden Nash, Alfred Hitchcock, and Groucho Marx). Of course, his concert could not have been not unrehearsed, as it offered a perfectly seamless flow from a huge range of musical selections to enlightening stories and banter. From the opening Toccata of Frescobaldi (arr. Cassadó) and Albeniz’s Tango with pianist collaborator extraordinaire Eduard Laurel, there was no note without meaning. He closed his first half with Beethoven’s highly challenging Variations on Mozart’s Magic Flute and opened the second half with Falla’s Ritual Fire Dance in a Piatigorsky transcription.

This concert was held in memory of Mr. Wimmer’s wife Shirley Givens, world-renowned violinist and beloved teacher, who passed away last year (and proceeds went to a fellowship in her name for the International Chamber Orchestra of Puerto Rico). Shirley Givens’ many stellar students have included Pamela Frank, Joseph Lin, and David Kim, among others, and one of her special ones, Alexis Walls, was present to join the duo of Laurel and Wimmer in a tender rendition of Grainger’s Colonial Song. Ms. Walls later lit into Kreisler’s Sicilienne and Rigaudon with exceptional virtuosity.

Other offerings included vibrant performances from son Kevin Wimmer, one of the premier Cajun fiddlers in Louisiana, with excellent swing/jazz guitarist Tom Mitchell. Interspersed among musical selections, there were appearances from actor, Robert Raines Martin, who added his jokes and antics to the evening, lest things get too tearful, but tears were inevitable from audience members. The Django Reinhardt piece Tears, with father and son playing, was a heartbreaker. Also deeply moving were cello-piano performances The Swan from the Saint-Saëns Carnival of the Animals and Ernest Bloch’s Prayer, from the Jewish Cycle.

For full disclosure, Harry Wimmer and his late wife happen to have been close friends of my parents, but this reviewer’s musical respect exists apart from that, and though Harry has a very modest demeanor, he has received praise from Pablo Casals and Bruno Walter, among others. A little-known fact is that he performed the premiere of Bartók’s Cello Concerto as part of a New York Concert in 1960 (long before what is usually listed as the premiere by Janos Starker decades later). He has played and taught in illustrious venues all over the world, but for more details one can visit About Harry Wimmer. Whatever the accolades and laurels, there is little that compares to continuing it all as a nonagenarian.

This weekend was a good cure for having been sent quite a few viral videos of toddlers playing Bach – not that those are not perfectly delightful, but these two evenings were a reminder that the more one lives the more one can express. They were testaments to the human spirit and inspirations to behold. As George Bernard Shaw said, “Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch, which I have got a hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”

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

Hwaseong City Music Competition Presents New Artists Concert in Review

Hwaseong City Chamber Orchestra with featured winning soloists

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 21, 2019

Though many decry what seems to be a cultural decline and lack of discipline in today’s younger generation, there are always rays of hope, and this listener encountered a dozen of them this Thursday at Weill Hall. Twelve young soloists, as winners of the Hwaseong City Music Competition, flew over from South Korea to perform concerto movements with the Hwaseong City Chamber orchestra – and they represented their nation well.

Though the orchestra was small (two winds and around thirteen strings), and understandably given the small stage of Weill Hall with a Steinway grand, the ensemble was valiant, and the soloists were as well. What could have been a marathon evening simply flew by as the parade of extremely accomplished youngsters gave their all, each for about ten minutes. Sadly, their ages and other information were not listed. The conductor led the ensemble admirably, though astonishingly his name was omitted from the program as well (more on that last issue later).

The first performer, violinist Chae-Lin Suh, played L’inverno (Winter) from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. With a full sound and assertive musicality, she boldly set a high bar for the concert. Occasionally (and possibly with help from adrenaline) she seemed to have a slightly edgier tempo conception than the accompanying ensemble, but as the piece continued, she seemed to energize the group towards her way of thinking. One couldn’t help wishing that there had been an easier way for her to connect visually with the conductor who led from behind her with little chance of eye contact unless she did a one-eighty, but fortunately some expert ears were at work. One doesn’t want to guess Ms. Suh’s age, which could have been anything from fifteen to twenty-four – but suffice it to say that she is already quite an elegant young lady with much potential.

Cellist Man-Jung Kim strode onto stage next to play Popper’s Polonaise de Concert, Op. 14 (first year university, as one gathered from nearby audience members who said they knew him). It was an impressive performance full of élan. He ably negotiated the treacherous high notes in the early cadenza and was unafraid of using expressive slides to convey the grand Romantic spirit. At times the orchestra had some scruffy moments (as one had thought also in the Vivaldi – inevitable perhaps when each instrument is exposed without the cushion of larger forces), but Mr. Kim fared well. He was also somehow able to impart the occasional oblique nod and glance as a cue – well done!

Violinist Jung-Ho Byun dazzled next with the Introduction & Rondo Capriccioso of Saint-Saëns. Looking somewhere in the upper teens in age, he played with a brilliant sound and an impressive degree of accuracy in its most challenging passages. If the sixteenth rests at the opening struck one as surprisingly literal compared to freer versions, he found his comfort zone quickly. It will be wonderful to hear this young player in a year or so to see whether this very famous showpiece will acquire that “tossed off” quality alongside his already considerable technique.

When the little violinist Eun-Seo Cho walked onstage next, there was a slight gasp from some the audience, as she looked no older than perhaps ten years old and played nothing less than Sarasate’s Zigeunerweisen. She handled it with a mature grasp in the passionate Roma melodies and effortless spiccato bowing in its pyrotechnics. This reviewer was ready to jot down how this or that was not quite up to Heifetz’s rendition, only to stop with the realization that my own socks are older than this child, so let it suffice to say that she was amazing. (Now, won’t it be difficult to take that all back if one finds she is actually fifteen and has availed herself of some youth-enhancing technology? Well, then we’ll talk – but she would still be exceptional.)

Just when one thought that prodigies can’t come much smaller, in marched pianist Ye-Seo Nam, looking all of about six or seven. Surely there was some sort of Matryoshka nesting doll backstage – in which case, what could possibly be next? Not to lag behind, though, young Ms. Nam made easy work of Haydn’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in F major – not the third movement as listed in the program but the longer and more involved first movement, which had her fully engaged and moving to the music from the opening orchestral tutti. Her fleet fingers (even with the tricky thirds) may have occasionally needed a bit more “traction” to rein in the speed and keep in perfect alignment with the orchestra, but all in all she was outstanding.

After a bit of onstage shifting to move out the concert grand, the next player entered, pianist Yu-Na Kim, seemingly in her mid to late teens. In some ways, despite the advantage of a few more years, she deserves extra respect for her poise in following such pint-size players (scene-stealers who inspired the famous W. C. Fields advice, “Never work with children or animals”). Ms. Kim sailed through the third movement of Chopin’s Piano Concerto in E minor with grace and authority. The only minor suggestions would be to make some rapid phrase ends less clipped and perhaps to change color and character more in the E-flat major section. Then again, she was impressive simply for pulling off this challenging movement so beautifully with what must have been very little rehearsal (given so may soloists). She also is to be admired for treating the piece as chamber music; at one point, for example, she managed in a long upward run to wait on the penultimate note for the slightly lagging orchestra, so that her top note would be right with them – she is on the ball!

After intermission, the concert resumed with slightly older players in general. Baritone Ji-Seok Lee opened singing Hai gia vinta la causa! from Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro. He possesses a magnificent voice, excellent diction, and a commanding stage presence worthy of the Count who delivers this aria. Though there was little in his demeanor (and no gestures) to convey the dramatic aspects of the role, his second selection, Sanchon (or Mountain Village) by Du Nam Cho, elicited his heightened emotions and dramatic involvement – it was a pity that no lyrics were provided. One will certainly look forward to hearing this singer again.

More Sarasate followed, with the Introduction and Tarantella in the capable hands of violinist Sang-Yong Sin. One was becoming rather spoiled by violin virtuosity by this point, but Mr. Sin delivered his solo with tremendous brilliance. The same applied to the next violinist, Hae-Won Choi, who gave a commanding and extremely assertive account of the Praeludium and Allegro of Kreisler (curiously listed on the poster/program with first name “G. P.” rather than Fritz).

Following other players in a group concert is a challenge not to be underestimated, and as the time approached 10PM one felt for these young players. As my colleague Alexandra Eames described so well in a 2011 review (Rutgers Pianists in Review): “To relax and find one’s stride in just one or two pieces is extremely difficult and the performer must go through the same physical preparations (dressing for performance, arriving on time, trying the instrument, etc.) as he would for a full-length recital. Often the most sensitive artists can be sabotaged by the endeavor, whereas the more arrogant temperaments barrel through their nerves.”

Miraculously there was not a single meltdown the entire evening. Cellist Ye-Won Cho followed with a rhythmic and nimble-fingered account of the third movement of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major, and aside from the almost dizzyingly fast tempo that perhaps stemmed from heightened excitement, her account was excellent.

Two pianists were the last performers, starting with Yu-Min Cho, who took on the thorny third movement of Chopin’s Piano Concerto in F Minor. He honored the score with respect and mature musicality, and it was beautiful to behold. It was only through some overpedaling and smudges towards the end that one sensed some fatigue, undoubtedly from waiting through such a long evening. Mr. Cho has the potential for very distinguished playing.

The role of final performer fell to pianist Min-Sun Kim, and that is not an enviable assignment, but she gave an impassioned performance of the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2. She was decisive and clear in her interpretation, delivering the work’s well-known lyricism with mature musicianship and a singing cantabile right hand, while also unleashing ample firepower for its peaks, particularly its high-voltage finale. It was a grand finale indeed, and one could only marvel at how the skeletal orchestra behind her rallied to meet her, playing their hearts out. Brava!

All the players returned to the stage for a final colorful bow, and a representative from the competition (whose name was hard to make out if it was indeed announced) remarked that the competition would be arranging another concert here within a year. He also introduced an honored guest (again with a name hard to discern) to present five special certificates, which went to cellist Ye-Won Cho, violinist Eun-Seo Cho, baritone Ji-Seok Lee, and pianists Ye-Seo Nam and Min-Sun Kim.

The Hwaseong City Music Competition’s organizers certainly know how to find talent, and now it is clear that they know their way here – all a good thing! They also appear to have some corporate backers to help make it happen (notably Kia via their poster); it should not take much more, therefore, to fine-tune the presentation itself (as the musicians had done). The program, really more of a concert flyer, seemed rather hastily assembled with too many typographical errors, and there should not have been any question as to the name of the conductor, the correct movement to be played, or the details of the competition itself (still a mystery after some web searching). There is probably also a way to arrange for a French horn or trumpet, even given limited space – but again, the musicians were remarkable.

Bravi tutti!

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Presents Lux et Amor: Music of Dan Forrest and Ola Gjeilo in Review

Dan Forrest, DCINY Composer-in-Residence, Ola Gjeilo, DCINY Composer-in-Residence and Pianist;

Featuring Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International;

James M. Meaders and Gary A. Weidenaar, Guest Conductors;

Estelí Gomez, Soprano;

Langley High School Concert Band (VA); Doug Martin, Director; Kyle Harrington, Assistant Director;

Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 18, 2019

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) served up another one of their signature musical banquets this week, and, though there may have been a preponderance of celestial fare, there was, in and out of it all, something for just about everyone. Entitled Lux et Amor (Light and Love), the program featured uplifting works for chorus and orchestra by composers Dan Forrest and Ola Gjeilo, along with an introductory mini-concert played by the Langley High School Wind Band (VA), about which more will be written later. The pairing of these two composers is not a first for DCINY, so the following summary from this reviewer’s write-up from April 15, 2018 (DCINY Dreamweaver in Review) may serve as an introduction for those unfamiliar with them: “Both [Forrest and Gjeilo] happen to have been born in 1978, and both write music that employs rather conservative tonality in exploring spiritual themes. Both are part of a growing wave of choral music that often hearkens back to days of chant, while freely tapping into multicultural or folk material, the simple harmonies and spare textures of New Age music, and some cinematic orchestral elements. Both composers are, perhaps needless to say, immensely popular.”

Lest these commonalities lead the listener to think of the two composers as two peas in a pod, they are not. Mr. Forrest emerges as an outgrowth of a church tradition that links him with choral composers such as John Rutter, Benjamin Britten, and others. Mr. Gjeilo, also known for some liturgically-themed work, stands apart for the folk inspiration that is part of his Norwegian heritage, for more prevalent jazz and New Age elements, and for the use of piano improvisation in his works.

As for the program title, Lux et Amor, the “Lux” part of the title is easy enough to explain, as the featured Dan Forrest work is itself entitled Lux: The Dawn From On High (2018), given its New York Premiere at this concert. Without making too literal a distinction, the Amor part seems to refer to Ola Gjeilo’s short piece Ubi Caritas, the text of which refers to an ancient hymn line, “Where charity and love are, God is there.” Again, though, the works of both composers on this program were awash with themes of light, love, peace, and all things heavenly.

LUX: The Dawn From On High is Dan Forrest’s third major work for chorus and orchestra, (after Requiem For the Living and Jubilate Deo). It is a forty-minute composition, consisting of five movements which evoke an arch-like journey of light – especially divine Light – through time. The texts range from ancient liturgical chant and Scripture to modern secular love poetry (in particular “The Sun Never Says” by poet Daniel Ladinsky, b. 1948).

The first movement, Illuminare, unfolds from a hallowed vocal unison into the luminous transparency of sound for which Dan Forrest has come to be known. The ensuing Lux in Tenebris employs, as the composer states, “contrasting musical meters and keys to portray its text about light courageously shining in darkness.” Highlights here were the interplay of harp with flute and soulful solo playing from DCINY’s principal cellist, Elizabeth Mikhael, who brought still more of her burnished tone to the third movement, The Sun Never Says. This latter movement has also been performed by Voces8 for a stunning newly released recording, and it is highly recommended. Dan Forrest has an unquestionable gift for understanding and eliciting the sheer beauty of the human voice.

Gloria in Excelsis followed as the fourth movement in a joyful syncopated setting about the Nativity, leading to the final movement, which is in the composer’s words, “an ancient evening hymn, presented as a solo, then unison, then in increasingly complex canons, before a closing section provides closure and unity between these multiple facets of light.” The chorus and orchestra appeared to revel in the music, under the expert guidance of James Meaders (as well as the many choral conductors involved in behind-the-scenes preparation). A hearty ovation brought Mr. Forrest to the stage to take a well-deserved bow.

The second half of the program was dedicated to three works by Ola Gjeilo (pronounced “Yay-lo” for those wondering). The three started with Ubi Caritas, a gentle hymn to love with Mr. Gjeilo at the piano in sparsely textured improvisations (think John Tavener meets a meditative Keith Jarrett).

Dreamweaver followed, a seven-movement work based on a Norwegian medieval folk poem Draumkvedet, which is, as the composer’s notes describe, “an epic ballad sharing some elements with Dante’s The Divine Comedy. The protagonist Olav Åsteson falls asleep on Christmas eve and sleeps for thirteen days, during which his dreams take him on a beautiful but at times frightening journey through the afterlife.” The text of Draumkvedet was adapted skillfully by Charles Anthony Silvestri, who has worked a regular collaborator with Mr. Gjeilo as well as other DCINY artists and composers worldwide. The work itself is accessible and appealing, with artful balancing of its inherent contrasts of darkness, light, sin and redemption. It was given a fine performance by the DCINY chorus and orchestra, under the sure leadership of conductor Gary Weidenaar.

Right from the Prologue of Dreamweaver, Gjeilo establishes a mood of reverence and purity with a seemingly simple hymn (with some bewitching harmonic turns several phrases in), setting the stage for the journey ahead. Highlights of that journey included the solo singing of soprano soloist, Estelí Gomez, who brought her bell-like clarity to the second movement, Dreamsong, and breathtaking high notes in the third movement, The Bridge, as well as in the fifth movement, Paradise. The latter movement truly lived up to its name.

The fourth movement, Intermezzo, centered on an improvisatory piano solo, played by Mr. Gjeilo himself, and it was an interesting change of texture. The work closed with an Epilogue that essentially reprised the opening Prologue – a full circle worthy of Olav’s journey.

The Gjeilo portion of the program – and the entire concert – ended with his chorale, The Ground, a beautifully wrought hymn for peace. The audience, who seemed not to have read the printed instructions to refrain from applause mid-piece, had clapped throughout the evening between movements, but gave renewed and well-earned applause for the composer and combined forces.

If one could state a general reservation about the concert overall, it just may have been “too much of a good thing.” There was so much to admire in the works of both composers, but the programming of their works together, particularly works of substantial lengths, may not have framed them ideally. Several in the audience commented about the length being too much, and though this listener takes no cues from bystanders, the comments echoed what had already been in mind.

The comparison of a concert to a banquet can go only so far, in that music exists in time, from which a concertgoer cannot slip out or decline second helpings. The result is sweetness upon sweetness harmonically, and the need for some insulin – or at least a pinch of musical “salt.” The only real pinch of salt of the evening was provided at the very beginning by the Langley High School Wind Band, ironic in that the seventy-plus cherub-faced youngsters seemed visually worthy of their own Norman Rockwell portrait. They dove with gusto into to John Philip Sousa’s Bullets and Bayonets, Rimsky-Korsakov’s Dance of the Tumblers (in a Terry Vosbein arrangement), and Grieg’s March of the Trolls (in an arrangement by Brian Beck). Though they did reach deeply into two slow and heartfelt works by Forrest (Good Night, Dear Heart) and Gjeilo (Sanctus), their leaders wisely interspersed these with the zestier fare. They finished their contribution to the program with a celebratory piece entitled Exultate, by Samuel Hazo (b. 1966) – a composer new to this reviewer, but one who clearly feels the pulse of young band musicians today. Doug Martin, Director, and Kyle Harrington, Assistant Director, led them masterfully through their selections, and they should feel quite proud. Congratulations to all involved!

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

Daria Barabanova in Recital

Daria Barabanova, pianist

The Gordon K. and Harriet Greenfield Hall, Manhattan School of Music

Sunday, February 3, 2019

It is a brave soul who schedules a recital on Super Bowl Sunday close to start time, but it was heartening to see this weekend that a warm gathering of music-lovers was more interested in piano music – or at least one particular pianist – than in making the opening of the Patriots vs. the Rams! Daria Barabanova was the excellent young performer, playing a program of Bach, Debussy, Schubert, Chopin, and Robert Helps (1928-2001).

Ms. Barabanova opened with Bach’s Partita No. 5 in G Major (BWV 829) and established herself immediately as a polished pianist. She has effortless finger technique and clearly a strong musical intellect. While not in the least demonstrative or visibly emotional, she possesses a lovely stage presence as well. Her Preambulum was precise and authoritative, demonstrating excellent control of articulation and tonal balance. Her Allemande was serene and well-paced, with a thoughtfully organized approach to musical shape that would bring cohesion later to her Sarabande as well.

There was the tiniest glitch in the first part of the Allemande, which one assumed might have been a reason for omitting the first repeat, but as it turned out Ms. Barabanova was to omit all the repeats in the Bach (as well as in the entire recital). This reviewer is not a die-hard devotee of doing all repeats always, but there are movements in the Bach Suites that are so short that they definitely benefit from the additional hearing in order to fully register in a listener’s mind. The Corrente, for example, was over in such a flash that, before one could fully surrender to its dance spirit, the Sarabande, had already established its stately presence. Similar observations could be made in regard to the Passepied, an even shorter movement, which was over in a blink. One thought that the advice about “stopping to smell the roses” might be apt – but then again, depending on the artist and the occasion, momentum can be of higher priority.

It should be added that there are plenty of pianists one hears and wishes they would omit repeats, so noting their absence in this case may be construed as a compliment. Ms. Barabanova’s finger technique is one of such sparkling ease and dexterity that it is a joy to hear. High points were her Tempo di Minuetto, given colorful staccato articulations, and the very demanding final Gigue. The latter can so easily turn into a tangled contrapuntal mess if one’s left hand is not fully equal to the right, but it was exemplary here, with each voice projecting superbly.

Three Hommages followed, by the American composer Robert Helps. Ms. Barabanova is to be commended for including these underappreciated pieces. Of special nostalgic expressiveness is the first one, Hommage à Fauré, a twentieth-century (1972) evocation of Fauré’s almost unbearably beautiful harmonic language. Ms. Barabanova played it with sensitivity and a golden sound. Hommage á Rachmaninoff was interesting as well, though as a composition it is not quite as evocative of its title composer as the first piece is. The final Hommage á Ravel is reminiscent at times more of Messiaen than of Ravel, though the latter’s Le Gibet did come to mind, with its haunting darkness. At any rate, Ms. Barabanova sustained interest through its extended hypnotic course. All three were played with the score. As the composer himself stated, these works can be played individually, and this reviewer would cast an unsolicited vote for the first one to be kept in the repertoire as an individual gem, perhaps memorized for the even greater deepening that memorization usually brings.

Debussy’s three-piece set, Pour le piano, rounded out the first half with energy and sparkle. Again Ms. Barabanova’s approach was rather matter-of-fact, but it seemed to suit the Prélude. She showed a good range of tonal color. This reviewer usually prefers the Sarabande a bit slower, but then it was in keeping with the general sense of forward propulsion about the afternoon. The brilliant Toccata finished the set (and the first half) bubbling with youthful spirit.

One had an inkling from the first half’s performances that Franz Schubert’s Sonata in A major, D. 664 would be a good choice for such an unfussy interpreter, and it proved to be so. This work (also known as “the little A major” to distinguish it from the larger one in the same key – and seeming extra “little” with the omission of repeats) is known for its melodic directness and simplicity, and these qualities emerged with admirable clarity. This is not to suggest even remotely that the piece is simple to play; in fact, quite to the contrary, a pianist must be able to transcend its challenges and let it sing without overcomplicating it, and that is what Ms. Barabanova achieved. With seamless technique and a respect for each line, she let the composer’s voice shine through. She also showed her awareness of significant harmonic changes through sensitive shading – and though her fortissimo sections were big, they were never harsh. Where there was a tiny mishap in the third movement, she handled things with consummate professionalism.

Chopin’s Scherzo No. 4 in E major ,Op. 54 closed the program. This was perhaps the least persuasive of all the works on the program, and it seemed that the pianist’s involvement was slightly on the wane, but through it all one heard some skillful coloring, some ingenious pedaling, and some perfectly pealing runs. (The final upward run needed more force and sweep, in this listener’s opinion, but then again, the piano’s balance of registers may not have been helping matters.) The Op. 54 is in some ways the hardest of the four Scherzi to sustain, with its frequent and capricious shifts of harmony and color. Some pianists plunge into each moment and experience each nuance, which can leave the listener dizzy and fatigued; others emphasize the big picture but lose “local color.” This listener would put Sunday’s performance in the second category, with the loss of detail probably contributing to things going a bit awry towards the end – in the grand scheme of things, though, hardly a blip.

All in all, it was a highly auspicious recital by a young pianist who should have quite a bright future.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Presents The Music of Sir Karl Jenkins: A 75th Birthday Celebration

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, Distinguished Concerts Singers International,

Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Principal Conductor,

Sir Karl Jenkins, CBE, DCINY Composer-in-Residence

Baidar Al Basri, Ethnic Music Vocalist; Sara Couden, Contralto

Elliott Forrest, WQXR Radio Personality

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 21, 2019

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented another spectacular musical celebration this past Monday on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and the program featured two major choral works by Welsh composer, Sir Karl Jenkins, whose 75^th birthday is marked this year. The first half consisted of the United States Premiere of his hour-long Symphonic Adiemus (including his 1995 Adiemus, reworked and augmented from its version for women’s voices to employ SATB, chorus, and an expanded orchestra). In the second half we heard his well-known Stabat Mater, for which this reviewer covered the United States premiere in 2009, six years before the composer was knighted (when New York Concert Review was still a print-only publication). I wrote then that his music was “direct, appealing, and at times profoundly moving” – and that opinion certainly holds today.

In an age when labels are applied with regularity to works of art as well as to people, the Symphonic Adiemus of Sir Karl Jenkins eludes classification. Though it is built on traditional classical forms, employs classically-influenced harmonies, and requires classically trained orchestral forces, the work is built over a nearly constant rhythmic undercurrent, often syncopated, which seems to invite the sloppy term “crossover.” Thanks to liberal use of African percussion (such as the djembe), Mideastern instruments (such as the riq), a chest-voice style of singing (marked with the word “tribal” in parts of the score), the terms “ethnic” and “world music” get slapped on as well, also not too helpful in an era of constantly intertwining cultures. As Sir Karl Jenkins himself acknowledged during an intermission interview from the stage, “I’ve always resisted categorizing music.” In fact, so averse is he to categories that he created his own language for his Adiemus, in lieu of established texts from any single nation or era.

As Sir Karl writes, “The text was written phonetically, with the words viewed as instrumental sound, the idea being to maximize the melisma … by removing the distraction, if one can call it that, of words. The sound is universal, as is the language of music.” On that premise, Symphonic Adiemus employs syllables text such as, “Za Ma Ba” and “Kayama” and in doing so largely avoids cultural associations and preconceptions. One could argue that “Adiemus” is a Latin word – and it is, of course – but, as Sir Karl recounts, the syllables “Ah-dee-ay-moos” simply emerged from the multitude of syllables, fortuitously corresponding to the Latin word for “we shall approach” (and close to “audiemus” or “we will hear”). As Sir Karl quips, “it could have been a lot worse!”

Musically, the twelve-movement Adiemus is beautifully paced to hold the attention of even the most restless audience – and just when one might be ready to pigeonhole a style or think a pattern formulaic, it all changes.

From the opening percussive blows of its first movement, In Caelum Fero (another case of phonetics emerging as Latin), one senses a heroic adventure ahead, and the brass and ostinati that follow are worthy of an epic soundtrack. One’s imagination supplies the story, especially with such a non-verbal choral part, but several hundred people making music onstage build a case for the hero being humanity itself.

The initial driving energy yields to the gentle Chorale: Za Ma Ba, with long-breathed melodic lines in the chorus and strings, and it is followed by the title movement, Adiemus, known to almost anyone who has been on the planet in the past decade. Associations have long been an issue for composers to reckon with (certainly exacerbated by technology, ringtones, commercial settings, etc.), but if “familiarity breeds contempt” the chant-like Adiemus is holding up quite well!

Nine movements follow, including the delightful Song of the Spirit with its almost raunchy horn licks, followed by Chorale: Elegia, which does not wax elegiac for too long before the ubiquitous rhythms return, now with gentle hand percussion. As if shunning too much of a lull, the next movement, Kayama, opens with a declamatory brass section before the chorus gently re-enters. Two movements entitled Tintinnabulum (parts I and II) follow, bringing the focus to tubular bells, and they provide a refreshing change of color. The highlight for this listener, though, is the ninth movement, Chorale: Cantilena, with its stately simplicity of line, and juicy suspensions and inner lines that tug at the heartstrings. A florid flute solo decorates its central section, and it was well performed. The orchestra throughout was excellent.

After the Cantilena comes Zarabanda, based loosely on the French Sarabande known for its emphatic second beat, but with its more distinctive rhythmic feature here being the constant percussive undercurrent. When the gently beatific Hymn begins after it, without percussion, it is a welcome respite. It is not easy to sustain excitement when there are so many climaxes of all sorts in a work, but thanks to the relative quiet of the Hymn, a resurgence is made possible, and the entire work comes to a rousing close with the Song of the Plains.

One couldn’t help thinking throughout the first half that the neutralizing of the text to mere syllables and the dissolution of certain musical categories are in perfect harmony with the mission of inclusiveness associated with the DCINY organization. DCINY gathers choruses from all over the world, and for this event they had singers from New York, Oregon, Australia, Canada, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Sweden, Switzerland, and the UK, and (as listed in the program) “individual Singers from around the globe.” DCINY regularly reminds potential choristers to come join them, and their extravaganzas frequently fill Carnegie Hall to capacity. It was inspiring to behold their hundreds of singers, old and young, of all stripes, visibly exhilarated by the music and energized by the guidance of Maestro Jonathan Griffith. They also represent the work of numerous choral conductors behind the scenes, and in tribute to one such outstanding choral conductor, Dr. Doreen Rao, DCINY brought her to the podium after intermission to present her with its Educator Laureate Award.

As impressive a feat as it is to create one’s own syllabic language, it is arguably much harder to set music to the Latin text of the Stabat Mater, which has a venerated tradition from Vivaldi and Pergolesi through Verdi, Poulenc, and the present century. Each composer will somehow reflect the musical language of his own era, and yet, irrespective of associations, he must compose in a way that can convey the timeless subject matter of the life of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary.

If one found oneself thinking that some of the Jenkins Sancta Mater seems a bit too redolent of our own day’s epic film scores – one could carp similarly about the Sancta Mater of Rossini, who lets the word “crucifixi” roll just a bit too merrily off the tongue, as if imitating the finesse of his great influence, Mozart. Looking at the bigger picture, the fact is that Sir Karl Jenkins followed his inspiration, and his Stabat Mater goes beyond the European tradition to resembling, as a whole, no other piece.

The central Latin texts are surrounded with those in English, Hebrew, Arabic, Greek, and Aramaic, and include words from the Epic of Gilgamesh and the poet Rumi. The texts are highlighted with the exotic timbres of Arab percussion instruments, which create evocations of the Holy Land. These were used especially effectively in conjunction with pizzicato strings in the eighth movement, Virgo Virginem.

Both chorus and orchestra deserve high praise for stamina as well as overall musicianship. The concertmaster, Jorge Ávila, was as ever an MVP, and Maestro Jonathan Griffith held the masses together in a way that could be described as miraculous. At times, he appeared to be the musical diplomat mediating between the unforgiving precision of the percussion and the giant amoeba of combined choruses – and there were precarious moments – but he was unfailing.

The soloists of the evening were also exceptional. The impassioned “ethnic vocals” of Baidar Al Basri made the second movement, Incantation, memorably stirring – and this listener had originally heard Belinda Sykes, who set a very high bar. Sara Couden’s beautifully penetrating contralto voice was also a discovery, and her superb diction brought clarity to the despairing fourth movement Lament, with text by Carol Barratt (Sir Karl’s wife).

All in all, one was struck once again by what a formidable achievement it all represented. Bravo to DCINY, to all the performers, and to Sir Karl Jenkins – happy birthday, and many happy returns!

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

Jeongeun Park in Review

Jeongeun Park, Viola; Eric Zuber, Pianist,

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 17th, 2018

Violist Jeongeun Park (https://www.jeongeunparkviola.com) appeared in her New York debut at Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall this week, delivering some highly admirable performances of difficult repertoire. She has received numerous distinctions in solo, chamber, and orchestral categories in her native South Korea, where she studied with Do-Yeon Kim in Seoul. Her biography states that she has also performed widely in the United States and participated in many programs, including the Aspen Music Festival. Dr. Park is currently on the adjunct faculty of the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, where she received her MM, Artist Diploma, and DMA under Catharine Carroll Lees.

Dr. Park’s program was an interesting one with a large stylistic and emotional range. The first half included Reinecke’s delightful Three Fantasies for Viola and Piano, Op. 43, and selections from Prokofiev’s well-loved ballet Romeo and Juliet (in a Borisovsky arrangement). Fauré’s ubiquitous Après un Rêve, Op. 7, No. 1, began the second half with stunning Romantic outpourings, and Shostakovich’s profound final composition, the Sonata for Viola and Piano, Op. 147, closed the program.

One knows one is in New York when hearing a fellow audience member actually complaining about hearing the same viola repertoire this week as last (though your reviewer found only the Prokofiev to be duplicated in concert listings); it might surprise the reader to know, however, that, for an instrument which is something of an unsung hero of music, there were no fewer than four public viola recitals (not including group ones) in the concert halls of Juilliard alone – and undoubtedly more, if one includes other New York venues. This listener will not be complaining, though, because most well-written music withstands infinite hearings if played with strong individual commitment.

On this occasion, that individual commitment was certainly transmitted to the audience, though at times it came more noticeably from the collaborative pianist, Eric Zuber. One had a hunch that Dr. Zuber would stand out, as this listener reviewed him glowingly many years ago, well before New York Concert Review went from printed publication to an online one. He is now quite a veteran with more major prizes than one can count, and he enlivened each piano part with his vividness of interpretation and mature musical understanding. From the opening of the Reinecke and on, with its fistfuls of Schumannesque passagework, he was in fact (yes, it is possible) a bit too engaging! One found one’s attention moving more to the piano than to the viola, simply from the intense musicality he projected throughout. No, the reason was not that this listener is a pianist, nor that there was any excessive volume from Dr. Zuber (though the duo probably ought to have set the piano lid on the half-stick, rather than all the way up, as it was for the entire recital); it just seemed that Dr. Park let Dr. Zuber take the reins in more of the recital than one would expect (the collaborative nature of the repertoire notwithstanding).

The three Reinecke pieces made a gracious opening. The duo of Drs. Park and Zuber were right together in matters of tempo and phrasing. A few minor intonation glitches showed what may have been some opening jitters in the first piece, but the second and third movements set sail nicely. Dr. Park showed that she has a beautifully warm sound, especially in the lowest registers.

One couldn’t help wishing that the actual titles of Reinecke’s movements had been listed on the program, rather than mere tempo markings, because it seems worth mentioning that the first piece is not merely an Andante but also a Romanze. It could have enjoyed even more of the feeling that its name suggests. There was, on the other hand, more dreamy spaciousness later on in the center of the second piece (Allegro molto agitato), where 6/8 became 2/4. The third piece, Molto Vivace (also one which Reinecke gave a title, Jahrmarkt-Szene and subtitle, Eine Humoreske), was a good jaunty finish to the set.

On the topic of program notes, there were also a few omissions and errors, including the life dates of Carl Reinecke’s father, listed as “1759-1883” (whose secret of longevity I want to learn!). It is easy enough to understand the occasional typo, assuming some haste, but a New York debut at Weill Hall is worth extra care. Assuming that one of the goals of performing music is to communicate, program notes can help the audience grasp some of what may not be captured in the interpretations. For each listener who has heard several viola concerts in a week, there may also be a listener who has never attended a classical recital but will become the audience of the future.

The first half concluded with Selections from Romeo and Juliet of Prokofiev, arranged by eminent violist, Vadim Borisovsky (1900-1972). Dr. Park’s selections were the Introduction, The Young Juliet, Dance of the Knights, and Mercutio. These were impressive performances in what are virtuosic arrangements, though again – at the risk of asking too much – one wanted more of a sense of the character in each piece. The Knights were not quite as formidable and fearsome as one would like (though the pianist did supply some of the more growling intensity), and one became a bit too focused on the busy-ness and challenges in the Juliet movement; there were some extremely beautiful sounds in the latter, however, especially in the more tranquillo central section.

After intermission came Fauré’s Après un Rêve Op. 7, No. 1, a piece with which Dr. Park seemed completely relaxed and comfortable. It had beauty of phrasing and tone, with just the right liberty of expression. It was good to hear Dr. Park taking a more assertive musical lead.

The Fauré acted as a musical blessing of sorts, before crossing the musical River Styx of Shostakovich’s Sonata for Viola and Piano. Dr. Park was intrepid in this great work, doing some of her finest playing. From the first movement’s searching pizzicato opening and ominous tremolos played sul ponticello (at the bridge of the instrument), she seemed to revel in its most haunting moments. In the central Allegretto movement, where the sheer physical demands require it, her playing was fully involved, fittingly biting, and angular – though perhaps it could have projected still more of its inherent sarcasm. The final movement, with its chilling references to Beethoven, including to his Sonata, Op. 27, No. 2 (“Moonlight”), was played with probing profundity, sending the audience off into a meditative night.

It is a high compliment to performers when one leaves a concert hall thinking about how amazing a composer was, and one did just that after this duo’s Shostakovich. One hopes to hear both musicians again soon.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Ode to Joy: Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 and Choral Fantasy in Review

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra; Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor

Warren Lee, Piano

Danielle Talamantes, soprano; Natalie Polito, soprano;

Claudia Chapa, mezzo-soprano; John McVeigh, tenor;

Peter Drackley, tenor; Christopher Job, bass-baritone

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 3rd, 2018

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) has since 2008 been bringing extraordinary concerts to Carnegie Hall and other venues in New York, and it seems fitting that for the final concert of its 10^th Anniversary season the organization celebrated with arguably the greatest masterpiece in the history of music, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 (the Choral Symphony, Op. 125), preceded by the same composer’s Choral Fantasy, Op. 80.

Beethoven’s much storied (and politicized) Symphony No. 9 was completed in 1824 (three years before he died) as the culmination of several years of intense work, still more years of sketches, and a lifetime of evolution in the mind of a genius. Part of that evolutionary process was the creation in 1808 of the Choral Fantasy, which contains enough thematic kinship to the later Choral Symphony to be considered by some to be a “study” for it, though that assessment seems to be something of an overstatement. The Choral Fantasy is a magnificent piece in its own right, with a piano solo part so prominent that it resembles a one-movement concerto. In any case, however one views the relationship between the two works, to place them one after the other makes for a dream program, musically and musicologically.

The piano soloist for the Choral Fantasy was Warren Lee, whom this reviewer heard just this spring in an excellent program at Weill Hall devoted largely to Leonard Bernstein. Mr. Lee struck one then as a highly thoughtful musician, and his performance in Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy simply reinforced one’s original impression. The Choral Fantasy opens with an extended piano solo, and despite its improvisatory nature, it is deceptively difficult and quite exposed. Each detail must be “just so” as the other musicians onstage, chorus, orchestra, and soloists, wait with bated breath. Mr. Lee handled all of its challenges superbly, with precision and a robust sound in the leaping chords and octaves, fine articulation in the tricky left-hand passages, convincing phrasing in the cantabile moments, and clear projection even at pianissimo levels. As the piece progressed, Mr. Lee showed a keen awareness of the orchestral whole (occasionally seeming almost to conduct), and he effected the changes of tempo and character to its “Turkish” section with convincing drive and energy. His collaboration with excellent conductor Jonathan Griffith was strong.

Only around three quarters of the way through this twenty-minute work do the solo voices and chorus enter, and they were substantial forces with which to reckon. Among the soloists for (just the Choral Fantasy, and not the Ninth Symphony), were the excellent singers Natalie Polito (soprano) and Peter Drackley (tenor), whose voices projected their noble entries with strength and clarity, in combination with the quartet of singers for the Ninth (Danielle Talamantes, Claudia Chapa, John McVeigh, and Christopher Job, about whom more will be said later).

As usual, DCINY gathered forces from far and wide, including choruses from across the US (Alabama, California, Georgia, Idaho, Massachusetts, Michigan, Montana, and Texas), as well as international choruses from Germany, Hong Kong, and New Zealand, and, as DCINY states, “individual singers from around the globe.” The collective sound was formidable.

Hearing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in live performance is a thrill which must be experienced to be believed – and it doesn’t get “old.” As the music has been heard in reductions and excerpts and arrangements of all kinds, there are undoubtedly many more people who feel they know it than ones who actually know it in its entirety, as it is a colossal undertaking for any orchestra, plus chorus and soloists. Thanks are due to DCINY for once again broadening the musical horizons of the large audiences they reach. They gave a powerful performance of the work, under the always masterful leadership of Maestro Griffith, and to tremendous ovations.

In matters of balance from section to section, clarity of motive, and technical polish within sections, all was performed at a high level. Ensemble was precise, and there was clear unity of conception in each movement.

If one could generalize about DCINY, one might say that their “specialty” in a sense is in performances of uplifting energy. Accordingly, the most successful sections in their rendition were the more overtly joyous ones – and no, it is not all “Joy” in the Symphony of the famous Ode to Joy, because the very first movement, for one, is long, probing and weighty. Most memorable perhaps in the DCINY performance was the second movement with its precise opening attacks in and almost frenetic energy. The buoyancy of the C major sections was downright infectious, and the winds shone in the 4/4 D major parts, which were magical.

The third movement, Adagio molto e cantabile, was beautiful, though perhaps missing the utter transcendence of some of this reviewer’s favorite performances; the final movement, however, after patient and artful building of energies and sonorities from double bass on up, was glorious. The quartet of soloists was superb.

It was a joy to hear the return of the outstanding voices of Christopher Job, bass-baritone, and John McVeigh, tenor (both performing by permission of the Metropolitan Opera). Mr. Job had the first vocal lines of this predominantly instrumental work, and he sang with a big tone, clear diction, and tremendous drama. The vocal quartet and choral section that followed generated such excitement that right after the words “vor Gott” the audience burst into applause. The Alla Marcia which followed was then irresistibly rhythmic, with Mr. McVeigh giving his lines a pulsing energy.

Claudia Chapa, mezzo-soprano, has been heard numerous times in DCINY performances, and her strong, warm lyricism never disappoints. Her voice blended beautifully with that of soprano, Danielle Talamantes, who is for this listener a new discovery and navigated the perilous high registers easily right up to the final “flügel Weilt” before the prestissimo “last hurrah” of the work.

Prolonged thunderous ovations followed the finale, and one left marveling at what a surfeit of gifts Beethoven brought to the world with his music. Of course, it takes live performances to carry these gifts to the next generation, and a special debt of gratitude is owed to DCINY for its hard work from both Co-founder and Director Iris Derke (who spoke eloquently between works) and the Co-founder and Artistic Director, Maestro Jonathan Griffith. Bravo to all of the musicians – and here’s to the next ten years of DCINY!

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

Adrienne Haan in White Christmas in Review

Adrienne Haan, Cabaret Singer; Richard Danley, Musical Director, Pianist, and Arranger;

Script by Laurence Pierron; Peter Martin, Producer

The Triad Theater, New York, NY

December 7th, 2018

Adrienne Haan is not only a highly gifted cabaret singer, but she is one of the most versatile that this listener has heard. She has been reviewed (and favorably) several times in New York Concert Review, but this reviewer heard her for the first time this past Friday at the Triad Theater in a show about the life and work of Irving Berlin. It was, to sum it up, a hit. Striding charismatically onstage in a glittering minidress, Ms. Haan proved herself, in an hour-plus of songs, medleys, and anecdotes, to be the consummate entertainer. She drew upon a wide range of singing gifts, from purest high notes at lyrical moments right down to a guttural comedic growl in the rowdier ones. She also proved to be a natural raconteuse.

The reason for the occasion (not that one needs a reason!) is that this year marks the 130^th anniversary of the birth of Irving Berlin (1888-1989), one of America’s most celebrated songwriters. As Ms. Haan quoted Jerome Kern as saying, “Irving Berlin has no place in American music—he is American music.” Composer of well over a thousand songs and the scores for several dozen original Broadway Shows and Hollywood films, Berlin may be best remembered for his beloved song White Christmas (from the 1954 film of the same name). It was thus an apt title for this show paying tribute to him as Christmas approaches. Ms. Haan sang around six songs from White Christmas towards the end of the program, including Count your Blessings Instead of Sheep (given an especially sweet delivery) along with a medley that included Happy Holiday, Let Yourself Go, Snow, and I’ve Got Love to Keep Me Warm. Concluding the set was White Christmas itself, for which she invited the audience to join the singing. It was a touching and generous gesture, even if there were some atonal contributions to Ms. Haan’s beautiful singing.

Throughout the show, Ms. Haan seamlessly wove details of Berlin’s life into the string of fifteen or so songs and medleys – a balance of vignettes, some heart-rending and some amusing. Though credit was given to a script-writer, Laurence Pierron, who presumably provided much of the rich biographical detail, Ms. Haan clearly made the show her own with impromptu touches. From the very opening number, There’s No Business Like Show Business (from Annie Get Your Gun, 1946), she showed she not only can sing, but she can move gracefully across the stage and spontaneously through the audience. Alexander’s Ragtime Band (Irving Berlin’s first international hit song composed in 1911) found Ms. Haan flirting with a handsome audience member (whom she dubbed one of her “victims”) and bringing him up to the stage. She spiced up her performances of The Hostess with the Mostes’ and Lichtenburg (both from Call Me Madam, 1950) with colorful descriptions of Perle Mesta (Berlin’s inspiration for the show) and followed the mock discovery of some risqué undergarments in the audience with the quip, “Diplomats! – kinky as hell.” There certainly wasn’t a dull moment.

Those wanting to hear the more familiar Irving Berlin output enjoyed a Hollywood/Broadway Medley that included the rhythmically energetic Blue Skies (from The Jazz Singer) and a warmly romantic renditions of Cheek to Cheek (from Top Hat) and They Say It’s Wonderful (from Annie Get Your Gun). Ms. Haan’s delivery of I Got the Sun in the Morning (also from Annie Get Your Gun) had particular gusto in the opening declarations of “got no diamonds, got no pearls.” Ms. Haan is a singer with an impressive range of registers, moods, and accents. Knowing of her German/Luxembourgian background, one is not surprised by her grasp of European languages (and she will be performing Kurt Weill in her upcoming season, having frequently performed German cabaret); her versatility with regional American accents, though, was a pleasant surprise.

Also quite familiar was the song Always, presented to Berlin’s wife Ellin McKay on their wedding day. Always is a song that has not only enjoyed popularity but also occasionally suffered from it. Trotted out ad nauseam by those of the “pitch and tone quality optional” schools of music, the song was at one point a cue for this musician to leave the room. Thankfully, Ms. Haan’s performance redeemed it from the realm of all things cornball, and this listener found herself appreciating its beauty once again.

It should be stressed that, despite the antics used to guarantee the attention of even the most attention-deficient audience, Ms. Haan possesses serious excellence as a musician. Her pitch was surefire throughout, and her vibrato, while ample, never obscured the music. She showed sensitivity to the harmonies throughout, especially in pairings with excellent pianist Richard Danley, who also sang quite beautifully with her in several songs.

There was only one song in the show not by Irving Berlin, and that was Oyfn Pripetchik (On the Hearth, song & lyrics by Mark Warshawsky (1848-1907). Sung in Yiddish, it was Ms. Haan’s tribute to Mr. Berlin’s origins as Israel Beilin, born in the shtetl of Tolochin in the Russian Empire (now in Belarus). It was a hauntingly beautiful performance. Also relating to the immigrant experience was Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor (from the 1949 musical Miss Liberty).

As part of what might be termed a “novelty” category, Marie from Sunny Italy was included, Berlin’s first published song from 1907. It was a great excuse for all sorts of mugging from Ms. Haan, as well as some fun pairing with Mr. Danley. Also included were several songs of a military nature, reminding one that Mr. Berlin had been drafted during World War One, an experience which had inspired the show Yip Yip Yaphank (1918), including the number, Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning. The latter, complete with mimicked bugle reveille was sung with humor and spirit, as was the later song This is the Army, Mr. Jones (from This is the Army, 1942).

Mr. Berlin’s patriotism was strong to a degree many today find implausible, and that was evident as Ms. Haan sang the song that he had composed for the IRS entitled I Paid My Income Tax Today (1942) – and for which he assigned all royalties to the United States Treasury Department! The text of this song expresses an almost jubilant pride in paying this nation’s taxes (including supporting US efforts in World War Two), but its overzealousness – somewhat predictably – took on a cartoonish cast with this modern-day audience. Ms. Haan played on the reaction with exaggerated zest, much to everyone’s amusement. Times have changed.

What has withstood the test of time much better is Berlin’s God Bless America, another song originally written for Yip Yip Yaphank in 1918 but only introduced some twenty years later. Ms. Haan sang it for an encore, and it was stirring, a moving ending to a memorable evening.

Ms. Haan repeats the show Monday, December 10, at the Triad – those able to obtain a seat will not be disappointed!

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

Sound Ways Presents Ivan Gusev in Review

Ivan Gusev, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 17, 2018

The name Ivan Gusev is a name one keeps encountering lately in association with exciting musical events of all kinds. Last season, for starters, this reviewer had the pleasure of hearing him in a performance of Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A minor as winner of a concerto competition the Mannes School of Music at the New School (the reader may see that review by clicking here: 2017 Mannes Concerto Competition Winners in Review). This week Mr. Gusev played a highly demanding solo program at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. In the interim, he has, among other pianistic activities, won a prize in the Chopin International Piano Competition, 2018 (USA) – to add to his already substantial list of awards and accolades – and has graduated with a Master of Music degree from Mannes, as a student of Jerome Rose.

If one had already formed a favorable opinion of Mr. Gusev’s playing last season, his musical gifts were even more clearly apparent in this recital. The program, for starters, contained a wide range of expressive musical styles and tremendous challenges. It included, for its major works, Mendelssohn’s Variations Serieuses, Op. 54 and Scriabin’s Sonata No. 2 in G-sharp minor (“Sonata Fantasy”), Op. 19, on the first half, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition on the second half. In addition, there were two Debussy Préludes from Book I, two Rachmaninoff Études-Tableaux from Op. 39, and to open, Scarlatti’s Sonata in F minor, K. 466.

As often happens, some of the shorter works were the most memorable. Mr. Gusev’s Scarlatti immediately established him as the kind of pianist whose playing will not be crimped by dictates of historic performance practice purists. He played with the full range of sounds that a modern grand piano affords and sufficient pedal to give each note a glow that reminded one of Scarlatti in the hands of Vladimir Horowitz. Rhythmically, there was an elasticity which gave shape and momentum to his phrases (with very few “tolls” paid to the downbeats), while never undercutting the solidity of the overall conception or meter. He graced his cantabile melodies with the kind of independence that leaves the left-hand part at times seeming merely to intertwine casually with the right (including some instances of left preceding right by a hair, and the reverse).

Dynamically, he was liberal with small expressive surges, and though some call this tendency “romanticizing,” such expressiveness has undoubtedly breathed life into vocal music since the beginning of time, and the world of piano is not so far removed. In summary, it was Scarlatti that brought a welcome measure of spontaneity to a world of dutiful readings and reflected Mr. Gusev’s familiarity with the styles of history’s great pianists.

Following Scarlatti came Mendelssohn’s Variations Serieuses, Op. 54, one of the composer’s masterpieces dating from 1841-2. Mr. Gusev shaped the weighty opening theme with exceptional dynamic gradation. Overall, the rest of the piece was played admirably too, though for this listener the earlier variations took flight a bit too soon. As compelling as these were, one wanted to savor more their relationship to the original theme, which can require a bit of time and breathing. There is plenty of speed and brilliance later in the piece, as Mr. Gusev made evident – from the fiery arpeggios of Variation VII, to the whirling triplets of VIII and IX, the rapid repeated chords of XII, the staccato passagework in XIII, and of course the virtuosic final variations. All were played with ample firepower, with the main reservations being occasional loss of clarity from some haste and heavy pedaling. A highlight was the D Major Variation XIV – which one would call Brahmsian, if Brahms had not been a mere child of around eight at the time! Here one heard the reverence so richly deserved by a composer too often pigeonholed for his “light fare.”

After the brilliant Mendelssohn came the relatively quiet lull of Rachmaninoff’s Étude -Tableau in A minor, Op. 39, No. 2. This is a piece which, though emotionally powerful with its slow trance-like minor triplets, is extremely hard to sustain for many artists. What impressed one about Ivan Gusev’s performance was that it had the perfect spaciousness for its long introspective opening – and yet without ever dropping the thread of continuity that holds the listener. He demonstrated excellent pacing as he built momentum to the work’s stormy center and returned to its desolate close. This Étude can feel interminable when not played well – but it was just right. Bravo! Again, it is often the smaller works which are memorable. The program continued with more Rachmaninoff, the darkly brilliant E-flat minor Étude, Op. 39, No. 5 played with excellent command.

Mr. Gusev closed the first half with Scriabin’s breathtaking Sonata No. 2, treating the first movement with utmost care in its warmly projected melodies and shimmering accompaniments. This listener favors a slightly slower tempo, simply because one then beholds each facet of that shimmering in all its crystalline glory – but then, that may also reflect this listener’s reluctance for the movement to end. There is not much that can follow such a movement except for the agitation of Scriabin’s seascape in the second movement – and Mr. Gusev played that as well as it can be played.

After intermission came two Debussy Préludes from Book I, No. 2 (Voiles, or Sails) and No. 3 (Le Vent dans le Plain, or Wind in the Plain). Voiles was wonderfully delicate, and both Études showed superb control. The two also set the stage well for more tonal “painting” to come in Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, which occupied the rest of the program.

Pictures at an Exhibition is the sort of tour de force which demands enormous stamina – and to have it looming at the end of an already demanding program presents formidable challenges. For full disclosure, this reviewer confesses a slight bias against this piece, which often rewards the players of sheer brute force and little else, with some notable exceptions (including irresistible performances by Barry Douglas, particularly in Moscow nearly thirty years ago). A player of subtlety can be up against a juggernaut, though, and it does seem that there are many works of music better suited to Mr. Gusev’s gifts. That said, there was much to admire. Highlights included the Ballet of Unhatched Chicks, given biting precision and lightness, and Limoges, The Market (about which this reviewer noted simply, “quite brilliant”), and Bydlo, evoking the heavy plodding of oxen in its lumbering chords that receded into the distance.

Among reservations was that there was a tendency towards stridency rather than the sonorous grandeur one wanted in the Promenade and some other powerful sections. Some glitches in the fourth Promenade (in B-flat major again) were possibly due to some flagging energy, but there was also some messiness and what seemed excessive pedaling in Baba Yaga (“The Hut on Hen’s Legs”). Some of the latter could be said to enhance the nightmarish quality of that scene, which verges on madness anyway, but the finale, The Great Gate of Kiev, was also not the neatest; small mishaps are inevitable in the hands of the best pianists, however, and the program closed with great spirit.

Mr. Gusev played three encores, starting with Chopin’s posthumous Waltz in A minor. Here one heard more of Mr. Gusev’s imaginative interpreting, and more of those unfettered right-hand cantabile lines. Where the music moved to A major, his delicacy was captivating, with pedaling creating a reverberant effect resembling that of a music-box. He closed this magical waltz with a tossed-off quality that was a bit flippant, but not far from what one heard from some Golden Age pianists – as if to say, “c’est ça!”

A second encore followed, now Schumann’s Träumerei from Kinderszenen, played with a sensitivity and tonal glow worthy – again – of Horowitz. Following more warm applause, Mr. Gusev closed the evening with Chopin’s Waltz in D-flat, Op. 64, No. 1 (the “Minute” Waltz), played with elegance and flair. He is an artist with much to offer and one looks forward to hearing him again.

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