Book Review: The Piano Teaching Legacy of Solomon Mikowsky By Kookhee Hong

Book Review: The Piano Teaching Legacy of Solomon Mikowsky By Kookhee Hong

The Piano Teaching Legacy of Solomon Mikowsky
Kookhee Hong
LAP, Lambert Academic Publishing
209 pp. (with photos and appendices)
ISBN: 978-3659804656
New York, NY, 2013

 

Breaking from the tradition of New York Concert Review as a publication chiefly about concerts and recordings, this book review is justified based on its subject, noted musical pedagogue, Solomon Mikowsky, whose musical legacy dwells in the concert halls and music schools of New York and throughout the world. As “one of the world’s most sought-after artist teachers” (Clavier), whose students have racked up over 150 international competition wins, he has been a vital if often behind-the-scenes figure in the world of concert life today.

Among Mr. Mikowsky’s students have been some highly celebrated pianists of the day, including Simone Dinnerstein, Kirill Gerstein, and others. Many are on piano faculties throughout the world, guiding the next generation of musical leaders, performing, serving on juries, and yes, still competing and performing in contests themselves. Lest the reader be misled by the word “legacy” in the book’s title, let there be no doubt that Dr. Mikowsky is still going strong after many decades of teaching, notably at the Manhattan School of Music since 1969.

What’s more than all of the credentials and success he has achieved – though going hand in hand with it – is his successful personal mission to share music, more a way of life than a profession. It is that personal mission that makes Dr Mikowsky’s career worthy of a book, rather than just a list of prizes in some compendium. His students, present and past, speak of him as a beloved friend, who has helped them artistically, personally, and even financially. They have traveled to new places because of him, tried unknown exotic repertoire because of him, sampled new foods, read new books, and met new people because of him. Together they are helping to keep the love and celebration of piano music alive. Anyone who was captivated by the 2015 film about music teacher, Seymour Bernstein (Seymour: An Introduction), should enjoy Ms. Hong’s book in a similar way, but with new dimensions: enter Solomon.

At this point, it may sound as if Ms. Hong, a former student of Dr. Mikowsky, has written a promotional puff piece, but rest assured that the book goes much deeper than that. Though one or two moments in the interview-format book may resemble the so-called “humble-brag” as various triumphs are recounted (how can they not with his string of achievements?), there is always rigorous self-assessment with Dr. Mikowsky, from the half-joking wish to refund money to students at some earlier points in his career to his comments about how much he is still always learning.

There is also much more to the book than a recollection and analysis of his teaching – beyond the ample discussion of fingering approaches, editions, and other specialized issues. Dr. Mikowsky’s life has been one of serious ups and downs, all which have made him the remarkable man that he is. The reader will find references to his Russian-Polish-Jewish roots, an engrossing account of his parents’ immigrant experience, colorful descriptions of his early days in Havana and a family jewelry business, and his musical beginnings. There are some humorous personal anecdotes, but also chilling references to his extended family’s peril at Auschwitz. There are tales of financial and personal struggle – including a physical injury preventing him from performing – but also tales of addictive Cuban croquettes. One is reminded in some ways of the much longer memoirs of another gourmand, pianist Arthur Rubinstein, as Dr. Mikowsky has a similar zest for living (without Rubinstein’s much-touted dalliances). One can only envy his current class of students. Young musicians will find in this book the constant reminder that not only must life be filled with music, but music must be filled with life.

Among the valuable cautionary tales, Dr. Mikowsky recounts various tests of character and diplomacy, such as politically constrained competitions and his dilemmas when colleagues’ students have wished to study with him. He also tells of one of his students asking to study with a different teacher, a technique specialist of dubious grounding – guessable by those in the know, but mercifully unnamed. Though there is some name-dropping, names are generally only mentioned when historically significant or of personal importance to him, such as his teachers Sentenat and Gorodnitzki.

From political obstacles to personal sacrifice, from student years in one’s homeland to scholarships in the US at Juilliard, doctoral studies at Columbia University and years of teaching, Dr. Mikowsky shares a wealth of experience – even how he became involved in a lucrative real estate investment out of his involvement in an apartment originally for the benefit of a student. Such serendipitous situations, plus much hard work have enabled him to gift performance halls and pianos to the Manhattan School of Music, the Chicago College of Performing Arts, and the City of Havana – all in addition to spearheading several festivals. It is not every piano teacher who maintains such philanthropic endeavors on the side. There are lessons to be learned from his life story as much as from the valuable section on pedagogy.

The book is a quick read at 148 pages, plus 50-plus more in appendices, and flows like a fireside chat. Ms. Hong is to be commended for achieving this effect naturally, without intrusive editorializing or ego. Part I centers on the biography of Dr. Mikowsky and Part II, on his pedagogical beliefs and experiences, with some interesting specific examples. Part III is a very generous string of appendices about pianists and teachers, plus student testimonials and lists of laureates. Those readers not interested in piano teaching may not be inclined to read Part II on pedagogy (just over half of its 148-page main text), though it seems that any lover of piano music could benefit from it all.

On a critical note, there is room for some further editing of this book (perhaps before its next printing), as some corrections are needed. Most seem not to be the fault of the author but of other contributors, but at least “sic” would be welcome occasionally, as the spelling of “Juilliard” appears “Julliard” and “book” becomes an unfortunate palindrome, which I’ll omit here. I’m sure, when a students states, “Another day goes by without me using something that you thought me…” that it was meant as, “Not a day goes by without my using something you taught me” but such errors such as these are easy to fix. The spelling of “Solomon” should be consistent, as “Salomon” in the photograph section was surprising.

Minor quibbles aside, I feel this book is a valuable addition to any music library. Dr. Mikowsky is a gift to the music world, and thankfully part of that gift is now knowable in prose form.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Larry Weng in Review

Larry Weng in Review

The Stecher and Horowitz Foundation Presents New York International Piano Competition Laureate Pianist Larry Weng in Recital
SubCulture, New York, NY
November 19, 2015

Rainy November evenings may not be ideal for New York concertgoers, but when the concert includes several works by one of the leading composers in the U.S. (along with related mainstays of the repertoire) and is played by exceptional young pianist Larry Weng – and at a casual downtown venue with refreshments – the picture can change rapidly. I had a hunch that I might be rewarded for wading through endless puddles.

For starters, the program included piano works by U.S. composer Lowell Liebermann (b. 1961), a tantalizing prospect. Mr. Liebermann’s works are beautifully idiomatic for the instrument, as the composer himself is a pianist steeped in the keyboard tradition; in addition, Mr. Liebermann is so prolific that, despite his presence on many programs, one always has the sense of barely scratching the surface of his output. To see two substantial works of his on one program is not too frequent, but we had that chance here with Mr. Liebermann’s Three Impromptus, Op. 68 (2000), and his Four Etudes on Songs of Johannes Brahms, Op. 88 (2004) framing Intermission. Bookending these were the opening works, Four Impromptus, Op. 90 of Schubert and the Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13 of Schumann to close – a beautifully balanced combination of the familiar and the new, and with interesting connections among them.

Larry Weng is a musician whom I’d had the pleasure of reviewing previously with particular praise for his Schubert (Aldo Parisot presents Larry Weng in review). On this occasion, his Schubert Impromptus were as thoughtful and well wrought as anyone who heard his NY Debut would expect. Here, his interpretations seemed more orchestral than vocal in conception (complete with some left hand “conducting” during right hand solo lines). His playing illustrated well his own comment from the stage about Schubert’s accompaniments, coloring the same melodic tones differently on different iterations, with different ambiance. Each of the four pieces enjoyed a balance between local color and broad overview, showing polish and sensitivity. The fourth, though, must be singled out for a leggiero touch that went beyond lightness, not feathers but nanofibers – a treat to hear!

The Liebermann Impromptus that followed were introduced by Mr. Weng as possessing certain similarities to Schubert’s. It was ingenious programming by the artist, to engage the audience in such comparative listening – even if the title “Impromptu” leaves things wide open to enable “apples and oranges” comparisons. The Liebermann pieces are naturally quite different (as one would hope, given nearly two centuries’ time difference), exploiting the keyboard’s full range in register, tonality, and dynamics, with much virtuoso writing. Mr. Weng gave them highly compelling performances.

As for Schubertian parallels, more than any similarity to Schubert’s Impromptus, one was struck by an extended, transformed reference to Schubert’s Moment Musical No. 2 in A-flat Major at the beginning of the first Liebermann Impromptu (or so it seemed, without the aid of any Program Notes). From this Schubertian kernel, the music took off into great pianistic flights of imagination. Mr. Weng played it brilliantly, as he did all three. He left the audience in a stunned state at the set’s haunting ending.

After Intermission, we heard Mr. Liebermann’s Four Etudes on Songs of Johannes Brahms, Op.88 (2004), songs of great romance and longing. These seemed really more Brahms than Liebermann, but in either case were welcome, especially in such a soirée-type milieu (and as preludes to Schumann). The Brahms originals are stunningly beautiful, with texts of longing, loss, love, harps and violets, including “Muss es eine Trennung geben” (Op. 33, No. 12), “Es tönt ein voller Harfenklang” (Op. 17, No. 1), “An Ein Vielchen” (Op. 49, No. 2), and “Eine gute, gute Nacht” (Op. 59, No. 6). Anyone who has tried to transfer lieder from voice to solo piano knows what art is required, but Mr. Liebermann’s distribution of these melodies and accompaniments flying across registers appeared to be quite a challenge, more than justifying the title “Etudes.” Much of the originals’ beauty came across in Mr. Weng’s able hands.

Schumann’s Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13, capped off the evening with bravura, despite some glitches. Many pianists go a bit adrift in the Finale, but some messiness elsewhere could perhaps be chalked up to some excessive speed – or possibly a bit of fatigue from the many demands of the rest of the program. In any case, Mr. Weng is a pianist from whom one expects the best, and there were some great moments, particularly the “duet” right before the Finale. The closing spirit was robust, and a cheering audience elicited an encore of the Bagatelle No. 5 in G Major from one of the most moving sets by Beethoven, his Op. 126.

Big congratulations go to Larry Weng and to the Stecher and Horowitz Foundation for this memorable evening.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Scott Watkins, Pianist in Review

Scott Watkins, Pianist in Review

Scott Watkins, Piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 10, 2015

 

American pianist Scott Watkins performed music of Bartók, Hanson, and Debussy last weekend, in a program that was well suited to his particular pianistic and musical gifts. A keen intellect was immediately apparent in his opener, the Piano Sonata Sz. 80 (1926) by Béla Bartók (1881-1945), which drew upon his laser-like focus, faultless memory, and considerable analytic grasp. It was bold and bracing in its relentless rhythms without ever devolving into the earsplitting harshness that one so often hears in this piece. Though many advocate unleashing the beast in this work (a product of the “barbaric” period of the composer’s life), pacing and control are still important – and one can appreciate so much more of the composition if one is not covering one’s ears! Thankfully, Mr. Watkins showed judicious control and steadiness, but with plenty of stamina. For this listener, a fan of Murray Perahia’s recording of the work, it might have benefited from even more imaginative orchestral color, but it was certainly outstanding.

 

The rest of the first half consisted of a remarkable discovery (or rediscovery), the Piano Sonata in A Minor, Op. 11 (1918), by the prominent American composer Howard Hanson (1896-1981) in its first New York City performance. According to Hanson’s own notes, the Sonata was first performed in 1919. Unpublished for nearly a century, the work enjoyed some attention in a different incarnation around the year 2000, when pianist Thomas Labé made his own lushly Romantic completion of the piece from an unfinished manuscript and recorded it for Naxos; timing was not on Mr. Labé’s side, however, because after all that work, another manuscript surfaced, this one complete, and the Eastman School of Music acquired it in 2007. It is this second discovery, the original, which Mr. Watkins performs and has also recorded. Though it is impossible to “unhear” Mr. Labé, who channeled the composer’s style well, one naturally wants to experience Hanson’s actual composition, and Mr. Watkins makes that possible, with excellent attention to detail and respect for the score. This listener sometimes longed for more of a sense of emotional involvement, as the piece has a highly personal expressiveness about it, reminiscent of MacDowell or Grieg; on the other hand, it is not easy to make a heart-on-sleeve approach convincing in such a youthful work without it degenerating into schlock. Some musicians like to downplay the excess while others embrace it, and Mr. Watkins chose the more restrained approach, with the fidelity of a music historian.

Mr. Watkins is currently Associate Professor of Piano at Jacksonville University, and since 2011 he has held the position of Visiting Foreign Scholar at Beifang University’s Conservatory of Music and Dance in Yin Chuan, China. Along with an active career including collaborations with prominent musicians such as violinists Eugene Fodor and Hillary Hahn, he holds a doctorate from Florida State University and clearly has a scholarly bent. It was therefore not so surprising that his playing emphasized the more cerebral qualities in each work.

Debussy’s Préludes Book II were a good match for Mr. Watkins’ gifts. Despite the tendency of many pianists to use the excuse of “impressionism” to run wild and drown some of these twelve pieces in pedal, we know that Debussy was against such abuse, and Mr. Watkins gets it right. He plays with the requisite clarity, but with great sweeps and washes of sound when required. These were excellent performances.

There was delicacy in Bruyères and a haunting quality in Feuilles mortes. Mr. Watkins is an undemonstrative player, but the music spoke for itself. A “straight man” approach in fact enhanced the fun of “Général Lavine” – eccentric and Hommage à S. Pickwick Esq., P. P. M. P. C., as one might expect.

Les tierces alternées (No. 11) was also a highlight. Mr. Watkins was extremely impressive in his handling of its exposed technical challenges. While it is not this listener’s favorite Prélude, it took a prize for sheer digital prowess. Only Les fées sont d’exquises danseuses disappointed a bit, sounding a tad heavy for fairies, but allowances must be made for a bright piano. Feux d’artifice (No. 12) was a brilliant close, played with vivid imagination and fire. All in all, it was a highly praiseworthy concert – a fulfilling musical evening.

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists Presents Gala Winners Concert in Review

The Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists Presents Gala Winners Concert in Review

Gala Winners Concert, The Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists
Bruno Walter Auditorium, Lincoln Center, N.Y.
October 18, 2015

 

It is hard to believe, hearing the winners of the Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists, that it was just 2003 when it was all conceived to honor the celebrated Bach interpreter Rosalyn Tureck just prior to her death. Founded by Golda Vainberg-Tatz in honor of her mentor (and with Ms. Tureck’s blessing), each competition is an enormous undertaking, drawing an international jury and attracting outstanding international participants, ages 7-20. The repertoire, wide-ranging and demanding, makes for great listening, and this year it all took place (with the exception of screening DVDs) in the high visibility venue of the Bruno Walter auditorium, with the co-sponsorship of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. I’ve had the pleasure to observe this competition’s Winners Concerts several times, and each time has been of a higher level than the last.

The Jury Members were Emanuel Krasovsky (Chairman), Sara Davis Buechner, Michael Charry, Mirian Conti, Sharon Isbin, Zhou Keng, Jose Ramos Santana, Matti Reakallio, André-Michel Schub, and Founder-Director, Golda Vainberg-Tatz.

The contestants ranged from the promising young Megan Xie, age 8, playing Bach’s Little Prelude and Fugue in G Major (BWV 902) with polish and surprising assuredness for one so young, to Kai Ono, age 19, playing Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue (BWV 903), in a style reflecting his varied experience with composition and jazz. The other offerings included more Bach categories (all kinds of Suites, Preludes, Fugues, Toccatas and more), contemporary music (another specialty of Ms. Tureck), and the first honorees ever in the challenging category VIII, none other than the Goldberg Variations! Adrian Fan, age 15, and Angela Xue, age 16, were both recognized in this category, though Ms. Xue performed Sofia Gubaidulina’s Chaconne for the winners’ concert, and quite powerfully.

After the opening of Megan Xie, we heard Anthony Reznikovsky, age 12, in Bach’s Duet No.2 (BWV 803). It was crisp and clear, with beautiful control of the tricky contrapuntal writing.

The gap between ages 12 and 14 is sometimes night and day, and Alexander Tsereteli showed us a glimpse of the developed artist he is headed to be. His Preludes Op.53, Nos.17 and 18 of Nikolai Kapustin were excellent, with a precocious grasp of their jazz-inspired idiom.

Back to Bach, one heard Connor Sung, age 10, in movements from the French Suite in E major (BWV 817). His marked articulations in the Allemande were staccato on each sixteenth, bringing out a perpetual motion quality that many Bach players choose for its connection to the harpsichord style. The intervening Sarabande was a pleasant change in texture, and creatively done. What this listener appreciated most, though, were the declamatory agogic accents in the Gigue, giving this dance movement a sense of gusto.

With a more sedate approach to the keyboard, Benjamin Wolfson, age 9, found beauty in two movements from Bach’s French Suite in C minor (BWV 813), namely the Allemande and the Gigue. Not only was his lyrical approach to the phrases refreshing and unforced, but he gets kudos for performing a Gigue that is one of the thorniest, least child-friendly of the lot.

Next up, Angela Lee, age 11, fairly knocked everyone’s socks off with her Nocturne, No. 4, Op. 38, by Lowell Liebermann. She demonstrated the sensitivity, maturity, power, and pianism that one often misses in pianists twice her age. It is not a huge surprise that, in addition to winning in Category V (Various Works), she also received the Evgeny Kissin Grand Prize.

Enjoying the surfeit of riches, we heard still more Bach, the Toccata in E minor (BWV 914), played by promising young artist Keiju Takehara, age 17, plus the Prelude and Fugue in C sharp minor (Book I, BWV 816), played with complete command by Vladislav Kern, age 16.

Non-Bach offerings included “China Dream” by Zhang Zhao, in the rendition of Xu Yue, age 16, plus (as mentioned before) Gubaidulina’s Chaconne, played by Angela Xue. The latter, showing much of Bach’s influence was an especially good twentieth century choice for this Bachian event.

To close the program, the audience heard a sampling from the Goldberg Variations (BWV 988), as played by Adrian Fan. In addition to (of course) the theme, we heard a wonderfully lively Variation 1, a good Variation 6, and a very precise and well-articulated Variation 7. There was a particularly well-controlled performance of the often scrambled Variation 14, a thoughtful and sensitive Variation 21, plus the subsequent one, and to cap it off, the brilliant Variation 29. One may have reservations about the integrity of excerpting such a piece, but if more and more contestants start performing such a work in its entirety, the Tureck Competition will need to book a venue for months and raise a lot more funds!

All in all, it was an inspiring event. Congratulations to all the young participants whose playing was not only life-affirming, but a reminder never to underestimate human beings based on how long they have lived on the planet! They bring hope for the future. Congratulations go to the directors of the competition for bringing it all to fruition.

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
“Leonard Bernstein Remembered” in Review

“Leonard Bernstein Remembered” in Review

“Leonard Bernstein Remembered” in Review
Lloyd Arriola, Pianist and Musical Director
Christ and St. Stephen’s Church, New York, NY
October 14, 2015

 

Nearly four years after reviewing pianist Lloyd Arriola in an excellent New York debut recital (marking the 200th anniversary of Liszt’s birth: Lloyd Arriola-pianist-in-review), it is a pleasure to review him again, now in the rather different role of musical director for an ambitious tribute to Leonard Bernstein. On this 25th anniversary – to the day – of Bernstein’s death, Mr. Arriola served as producer, collaborative pianist, and occasional vocal complement to twenty accomplished singers in selections from Bernstein’s operettas, musicals, and other vocal works. It was apparent what a labor of love and expense it must have been for him to coordinate and rehearse so many singers from near and far. He spoke briefly of being a student at Peabody Institute when the news of Bernstein’s death broke, of the shock, and of the 25 years since then, culminating in this concert.

The evening began with a procession of nearly twenty singers to the front of the church, a formidable array one assumed to be the complete personnel until statuesque contralto Nicole J. Mitchell made her dramatic entry from the back, singing Bernstein’s “Somewhere” from West Side Story as she walked. It was one of the most haunting renditions I’ve heard, and I’ve heard many. An emotional tone was set for the evening.

“A Simple Song” from Bernstein’s Mass followed, sung with beautiful clarity by baritone, Sam Fujii. There was a good alternation of solo, duo, and ensemble textures throughout the evening, and “Readings” (from the funeral scene of the opera A Quiet Place) came next, enlisting the forces of seven of the evening’s stars. It is difficult to pull such a scene out of the context of the musical in a way the audience can fully understand, because, even though in English, the lyrics intertwine among voices; that said, one appreciated the exceptionally clear diction by tenors, Marcos D. Vigil and Lawrence Rush. The performance prompted one to explore this whole work more deeply.

From the funereal to the lighthearted, the evening progressed to “Carried Away” from On the Town, sung by Erika Person Werner and Eric Werner – not surprisingly a duo with a strong and appealing rapport. They projected its giddy subject matter with flair. On a similarly comical note (and also from On the Town) came “Carnegie Hall Pavane” a jazzy sendup of singing lessons. Mezzo-soprano Christine Thomas and soprano Barbara Porto brought out the campy fun. Of course On the Town has its melancholy numbers too, and “Some Other Time” is one. Ms. Thomas joined a quartet with Alison Davy, David Bell, and Lawrence Rush, in a moving performance. The musical sighs of “oh, well” conveyed the song’s sense of resignation with special poignancy.

“A Little Bit in Love” from Wonderful Town, featured Ms. Davy again in a strictly solo capacity. She was thorough and convincing, sensitive to both theatrical elements and phrasing. She teamed up with Ms. Thomas afterwards in a winsome rendition of the clever number “Ohio” (“Why, oh why, Ohio?” – also from Wonderful Town).

No Bernstein tribute would be complete without selections from Candide, and indeed we had two. The first was “Glitter and Be Gay”, a coloratura showstopper requiring a singer to be Queen of the Night and a Rockette all rolled up into one. Soprano Kinneret Ely was both, giving a high-energy performance. “We are Women” followed with more comedy, teaming up Jessica Fishenfeld with Ms. Thomas, who had already had quite a busy night but was showing no signs of flagging. Their mincing gestures to the lyrics about “little, little women” were hilarious.

Returning to music from West Side Story, we heard the touching “One Hand, One Heart” sung movingly by the duo of Amy Palomo and Marcos D. Vigil. It was followed by “Tonight” in a rousing quintet version. Bernstein’s range was especially striking throughout this program, but then again, that range typified everything about the late maestro’s musical life.

After intermission, we heard the only piano solo of the evening, the 3rd of Bernstein’s Four Anniversaries, played with tender expressiveness by Mr. Arriola. He accompanied beautifully throughout the evening, but it was good to hear him in solo performance. Dedicated to Stephen Sondheim, the piece served as a prelude to the evening’s only non-Bernstein song, Sondheim’s “I Remember” – sung with heartrending nostalgia by special guest, Rosemary George.

The brooding continued with “Lonely Town” (from On the Town), sung with a powerful sense of desolation by baritone Gustavo Morales, and “Morning – Good Morning” (from A Quiet Place), given an eerie otherworldly quality by soprano Joyce Yin. Two songs from Peter Pan were equally ethereal, including “Dream With Me” sung by outstanding countertenor Daniel Gundlach and “Build My House” given a fine performance by soprano Lotte Crayton.

“Duet for One – First Lady of the Land” (from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue), is just the challenge that the title suggests – one singer, in this case Lindsay Blackhurst, handling two roles alternately in one song. It was well done, though perhaps some exaggeration of the different inflections or accents could have helped even more than the comic prop of a liquor flask. The alternations can be a bit hard to follow if one blinks, unless one is completely immersed in this musical (and few are, as it was famously a flop on Broadway). Two ensemble works followed, “Nachspiel” from Arias and Barcarolles, and “To Make Us Proud” (from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue) with Lawrence Rush as Theodore Roosevelt. They capped off a highly successful program with spirit.

All in all, this concert broadened one’s understanding of the late Leonard Bernstein greatly, while naturally leaving room for much more. As Mr. Arriola stated in his emotional conclusion, the 100th Anniversary of Mr. Bernstein’s birth is approaching in 2018, and plans for more are afoot. Mr. Arriola has a track record of surpassing himself, so one looks forward to the next venture.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante, Pianist in Review

HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante, Pianist in Review

HH Promotions London LLC presents Carlo Grante, Piano
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center New York, NY
September 15, 2015

It’s a World Premiere! With the same exhilaration that one feels in exclaiming “it’s a boy!” or “it’s a girl!” the world welcomes a new piano work, Chopin Dreams (2014), composed by Bruce Adolphe (b.1955) and given a masterful first performance this week by Italian pianist Carlo Grante. Commissioned by The Concert Artists’ Promotion Trust for Mr. Grante, the work is brimming with all the poetry and virtuosity one would hope for in a work inspired by the great Frédéric Chopin, but its tonal language is deliciously modern. As Mr. Adolphe writes, “To compose this work, I imagined Chopin alive today, living in New York, perhaps making some money at a jazz club rather than teaching so many students.”

Made up of six pieces, the work lasts around 24 minutes. The first of the set is New York Nocturne, a sensitive meditation through a melancholy jazz haze, as if Chopin’s sensibilities had been transported to a dusky New York scene. Mr. Grante captured the music’s improvisatory magic with exquisite colors and nuanced pianism.

The second piece of the set, Jazzurka, was even more captivating (if one may indulge in favorites), and if the composer allows the pieces to be performed individually, this one will surely take on legs of its own. From its opening, with delicate hints of Chopin’s A Minor Mazurka, Op. 17, No. 4, the most ingenious jazz development ensues. One can only guess how devotedly Mr. Grante must have lived and breathed this Chopin-Adolphe hybrid over the past year, but he truly brought it to life.

Brooklyn Ballad, the fourth of the set (containing material from Chopin’s G Minor Ballade), seems to tell an urban tale, as if a counterpart to one of Chopin’s poetic inspirations were channeled through Bill Evans. Again, Mr. Grante was outstanding.

The fifth piece, cleverly entitled Quaalude (a play on “Prelude” and using similar left hand passagework to that of Chopin’s G Major Prelude) was another tour de force, played brilliantly. The Chopin connection seemed tenuous in two dance forms which, as Adolphe notes, Chopin never heard of – hip-hop rhythms as heard in Piano Popping (the third piece) and the Hora as heard in the final (sixth) piece of that title – but these pieces are musical “dreams” after all. They livened things up well, and Mr. Grante played them with panache. The audience exploded into applause for both the pianist and the composer, who was present for bows.

As if all of this had not been enough of a draw for one evening, Mr. Grante presented, for the program’s second half, a string of virtuosic Studies on Chopin Etudes by Leopold Godowsky (1870-1938), selecting those based on Chopin’s Études Op. 10 and including four arranged for the left hand. Though the program had listed twelve of Godowsky’s 53 (1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 21, and 22), Mr. Grante wound up omitting Nos. 1 and 21. In any case, playing even ten of these is something of an Olympic trial for a pianist, and one could enjoy the thrill simply on that level. Pianophiles will inevitably recall performances that set the bar higher for this or that one (some of Marc-André Hamelin’s come to mind), but again, just how often does one hear so many in live performance?

Mr. Grante’s execution in the Godowsky had much to admire, as one has come to expect with this pianist, especially in the left hand technique. One reservation was that the resonant bass and middle registers sometimes interrupted or overwhelmed more delicate top voices, breaking lines, but much of this issue may have been due to quirks of the Bösendorfer piano and acoustics. In the pianist’s pursuit of extremely soft sounds, some tones vanished altogether, and as one issue affects the next, tempo and fluency occasionally sounded encumbered. As challenging as these pieces are, one wants to hear them sound like child’s play.

Despite such reservations, one’s focus in hearing the Godowsky was not so much in assessing the virtuosity as in wrapping one’s mind around the dazzling tonal world that grew from Chopin, from that of his own original compositions, to Godowsky’s early twentieth-century expansions, and to the newer musical explorations around them, by Bruce Adolphe and others. The programming itself urged such an appreciative listening approach, despite offering plenty of bait for the keyboard-centric. It was beautifully conceived.

The sole original Chopin work of the evening was the opener – Chopin’s Sonata No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 35 (the “Funeral March” Sonata). It has a long tradition of great performances and had much to praise here too, but again, whether due to acoustics, the piano, or a novel conception that just eluded this listener, some of work’s most singing lines felt disjointed or too thin in relation to basses. This was most noticeable in the slow movement, but it affected earlier movements as well. The imbalance somehow was not as distracting during the evening’s premiere (but then again, there is no basis for comparison with a new work).

On the plus side, Mr. Grante’s extremely soft pianissimos for ethereal effect succeeded in entrancing for prolonged spells the otherwise rather ill-behaved audience, who were leaving cellphones ringing, clapping between movements, and even drinking from a bottle in the front row! While Mr. Grante was quite gracious and acknowledged the applause at whatever points it came, it was still annoying to have the “afterglow” constantly interrupted. One was thankful that, upon the last notes of the heartbreaking Chopin slow movement, Mr. Grante overrode the stirrings of applause by launching straight into his last movement, the famous “wind over the graves” Finale. It was chillingly transparent in tone and a reminder of how vital and “new” to our ears Chopin can still be.

All in all, with minor quibbles aside, it was an extremely stimulating evening, just what a culturally spoiled New Yorker wants, and an auspicious start to the new concert season. Bravo!

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Miryong Cha, Pianist in Review

Miryong Cha, Pianist in Review

Miryong Cha, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
June 23, 2015

In the highly competitive field of classical music, it is a significant achievement to earn one’s major degrees in piano at a prominent conservatory such as the Manhattan School of Music and to top things off with a Doctor of Musical Arts degree from an established school such as Rutgers. These credentials, plus some awards, concerts, and two teaching posts in Korea, were listed in the program biography of Miryong Cha, who performed last week in her New York Recital Debut.

One might assume that any young performer having studied with some highly respected teachers and passing such hurdles, has probably had his or her devotion to music tested thoroughly – the faint of heart do not easily pass jury exams and test recitals (let alone competitions) without determination and love of the craft. Actual concerts, presumably with unfettered choices of repertoire, are expected to be somewhat easier. It is thus perplexing to witness a recital that feels as much like a trial as did that of Ms. Cha. One wonders whether she was perhaps not feeling well – and the ten-minute wait for her to appear onstage at the beginning seemed to suggest as much. In any case, for unknown reasons, her demeanor and playing projected such a combination of resignation and doom that this listener felt like an unwelcome spectator at a punishment, a tricoteuse by the guillotine.

A work where the gallows bleakness is appropriate is “Le Gibet” the central movement from Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit, and indeed this was fittingly dark in Ms. Cha’s hands – but there were also numerous points in the program where one’s spirit could have soared with the music and it wasn’t happening. The rest of the Ravel set contained some of Ms. Cha’s better playing of the evening, particularly in “Ondine,” though still Ms. Cha favored the “doldrums” aspect of the ocean sounds, tempering all high points. “Scarbo” was unusually slow and lacking in its usual nightmarish intensity.

Despite the fact that Ms. Cha’s biography lists a recent lecture in Korea on the “Stylistic Analysis of Chopin’s 24 Preludes” she seemed skittish about the Chopin. Perhaps when one writes in depth about a work, one can psyche oneself out a bit, though ideally an analysis should deepen one’s interpretations.

The C Major Prelude (marked “Agitato”) was surprisingly slow and cautious (what one might call “practice tempo”), but it still had more than the typical number of errors, particularly in the left hand. No one is perfect, and the best pianists have errors in live performance, but sufficient awareness of the harmony should prevent an excess of these. At first, one chalked things up to nerves, but there developed a growing sense that all had not been prepared with sufficient loving care. Frequent mishaps beset the Preludes in D Major, F-sharp minor, G-sharp minor (which did however have a strong ending), and others. The ferocious B-flat minor Prelude was not quite mastered but was “prettified” with receding climaxes. By contrast, several of the slower Preludes were played disconcertingly briskly, including the A Minor (“Lento”) and the B minor (“Lento Assai”), the latter of which had been chosen for Chopin’s own funeral. There may have been some theory at play that the slow ones need to be played faster and the faster ones, more slowly – one doesn’t know – but if so, the case needed to be made convincing to the listener.

A layman could overlook the misfires in less famous Preludes, but it is hard to conceal harmonic lapses in a work as well known as the E minor Prelude. Many amateurs and students have played this one – along with the A major, B minor and C minor – so finesse is especially important. The A major seemed disturbingly fast, bordering on flippancy, and with some note slips as well. The D-flat Prelude flew by without any projection of the suspensions, so the resolutions felt superfluous as a result.

Some of Ms. Cha’s playing stood out as more successful, such as the F major Prelude, the E major, which enjoyed a deeply resonant bass, and the G major, which showed a solid (if slightly overpowering) left hand. The famously difficult E-flat Prelude was also in the beginning surprisingly clean compared to the others, though some exposed peak notes were missed. Perhaps with time, the entire set will ripen. Again, it is possible that for much of the recital Ms. Cha was in some kind of discomfort, because she seemed to be moving her right shoulder in random gyrations that bore no relation to the music or physical act of playing.

In addition to Chopin and Ravel, Ms. Cha included the lesser-known Fantasy in C minor, K.396, based on two pages of an unfinished Violin Sonata by Mozart, but actually finished as a piano piece by Maximilian Stadler (1748-1833). It was listed as Mozart (as it often has been), but I feel Stadler’s name needs to be there as well. Widely thought to have been an attempt to sell Mozart’s musical scraps as a meal, it is a roughly nine-minute pastiche sounding like C.P.E. Bach thrown into a blender with Mozart, Beethoven, and a dash of Czerny. This hybrid work has attracted many fine pianists including Sofronitzky, Gieseking, Brendel, Kraus, and others, though it takes imagination and power of persuasion to pull it off. It made an interesting addition as a listener sorted out which parts sounded truly Mozartean and which did not, but it never quite rose above the level of that mental exercise.

I do hope to hear Ms. Cha again, hopefully on an evening that reflects better her fine credentials.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Yerevan Perspectives International Music Festival Presents Evgeny Kissin: “With You, Armenia” in Review

Yerevan Perspectives International Music Festival Presents Evgeny Kissin: “With You, Armenia” in Review

Yerevan Perspectives International Music Festival Presents Evgeny Kissin: “With You, Armenia”
A Concert to Commemorate the 100th Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide
Evgeny Kissin, piano; Hover Chamber Choir, Sona Hovhannisyan, Director and Choirmaster
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
May 26, 2015

 

Just over a week after a full-length solo piano recital at Carnegie Hall (including Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, and Prokofiev), Evgeny Kissin shared a program with the Hover Chamber Choir, an Armenian ensemble, marking the 100th anniversary of the Armenian genocide that started April 24, 1915.

The first half was approximately an hour of unaccompanied choral music from the twenty-five singers under the direction of the Hover Choir’s founder Sona Hovhannisyan, and the second half was all-Chopin in the hands of Mr. Kissin, including the Fantasy in F minor, the Nocturne in F-sharp minor, Op. 48, the Polonaise in C minor, Op. 40 and the Scherzo in B-flat minor. It was a moving occasion, its somber premise illuminated by moments of hope and heroism.

Mr. Kissin is an artist of heroic stature himself, avoiding the gimmicks of so many colleagues, maintaining integrity and the highest standards, and embracing philanthropic pursuits. A giant in the piano world at age 43, he never rests on his laurels but constantly evolves and surprises. On this occasion Mr. Kissin’s choices of repertoire were full of gravitas, and his playing seemed colored by the solemnity of the occasion. The martial opening of the Fantasy in F minor was fittingly sober in matters of tone and tempo, and the same could be said of Chopin’s Nocturne in F-sharp minor and Polonaise in C minor, Op. 40, all with moments of ethereal beauty, but with the careful unfolding of a sage storyteller. There were musical revelations throughout and always a sound that projected singingly, even at pianissimo levels, to the farthest corners of the hall. Chopin’s Scherzo No. 2 in B-flat minor ended his half brilliantly calling for two encores.

One will not soon forget his second encore to this Chopin half-recital, a rendition of Chopin’s “Heroic” Polonaise (Op. 53) that made jaws drop. The speed with which he started the notorious left-hand octaves seemed almost foolhardy at first, but he kept them up with such turbo-charged power and precision that one could only admire. While I’ve always enjoyed Vladimir Horowitz’s more gradual buildup, it was hard to resist this sheer thrill.

Undoubtedly Mr. Kissin could have obliged his clamoring audience with a longer string of encores, as he usually does (one Carnegie performance eliciting twelve), but he showed deference to the solemnity of the occasion by limiting it to two; it was clear that he was not merely a “headliner” for this concert but an artist with a special empathy for the suffering of the Armenian people. His first encore was thus a haunting transcription by Georgy Saradjian of the song “Grounk” (or “Krunk” – “The Crane”) by composer, priest, and patriarch of Armenian music, Komitas Vartapet (1869-1935). Based on a poem by Hovhannes Toumanian (The Crane), this music expresses the desolation of those mourning the loss of their homes, friends, families, and cultural “nest” while the crane returns to his; it is thus a song of great symbolism to the Armenian Diaspora. The audience, including many Armenians, gave thunderous approval, as if a century’s worth of unheard pain were being released through the music.

For around a century, “Armenian Genocide” has met some resistance as a term to describe the brutal massacre by the Ottoman Empire of an estimated 1.5 million Armenians (between 1915 and 1923). The tiptoeing around it, the lumping of it with World War I, and the outright denial of it have taken the Armenian heartbreak to new lows, as have the displaced and ruined lives of victims and their descendants. The facts are stubborn, however, and the former Prime Minister of the Republic of Armenia, Tigran Sargsyan (currently Ambassador of Armenia to the US) was present to introduce the occasion as the anniversary of the “first modern genocide.”

Among the victims of the torment was the abovementioned composer Komitas himself (often referred to without “Vartapet” which was comparable to “Father”). Komitas survived the horrors of 1915 only to live his last twenty years a broken man. His is a gripping story, the telling of which might have deepened the listeners’ experience, but sadly there were no program notes about him – or about any of the Armenian composers presented. This was a woeful omission, especially considering that Armenia has suffered from loss of a voice for so long.

With the exception of the last choral piece Sweet Breeze – a highlight of the program with its wind-like effects– we heard the Komitas works just as he wrote them, a cappella (except for the conductors’ own additions of some bell-like sounds). The program included Folk songs and selections from the Armenian Divine Liturgy. The music, based on monody, was modal and melismatic, sensitively set, and sung with a balanced and luminous sound. In the interest of space, the list of songs will not be included here, but may be seen at the Carnegie Hall event page (Program listing). An hour was perhaps too heavy a dose of similarly textured music for the uninitiated – something to consider if the goal includes furthering Armenian music – but the concert certainly opened some musical doors.

Interspersed were more contemporary Armenian works including the wide-ranging Waterfall Music by Vache Sharafyan (b. 1966), the imaginative Three Portraits of Women (The Rainbow) by Tigran Mansurian (b. 1939), and a fanciful piece, The Little Prince and the Fox by Anna Azizyan.

Sadly, the only program notes given were about internationally renowned Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki (b. 1933), whose “Psalm III dedicated to the Armenian Genocide” was presented in a World Premiere. Mr. Penderecki was expected to be present but could not attend. He missed a moving performance. His Psalm III is a stirring work, full of faith but also of anger, with the text opening, “Lord, how many are my foes!” The Hover Chamber Choir performed it with tremendous expressiveness.

Other works were an interesting free arrangement of “Es ist ein Ros entsprungen” (“Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming”) by Jan Sandström (b. 1954) and “Carol”(“Maiden in the mor lay”) by Benjamin Britten (1913-1976). They were beautiful and despite the lack of an explicit connection to Armenia, quite meaningful to this observance.

All in all, despite small issues about programming and the absence of notes, the evening succeeded in its goal of commemorating a grave event in history. Congratulations are in order for the large undertaking. One hopes that it served to further a renaissance of sorts, empowering Armenians to find an ever-greater voice.

 

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Maria Prinz, piano, in Review

Maria Prinz, piano, in Review

Legato Arts presents Maria Prinz, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 18, 2015

Maria Prinz, a Viennese pianist who has been heard with flutists in New York in recent seasons, returned last weekend to perform a solo recital that was in her words, “all about Mozart and Schubert’s Vienna” in the first half, namely Mozart’s Sonata K.330 in C Major and Schubert’s Vier Impromptus, Op. 90. The second half was devoted to Schumann’s Carnaval – and as the pianist noted, though Schumann was not Viennese, the work’s title and subject “have to do with Vienna.” The program promised a musical feast, and so did the set of program notes written by the pianist herself and revealing considerable passion for this music. Starting off with the declaration, “I love Vienna!” Ms. Prinz expressed just the enthusiasm that one wants to see in program notes, rather than mere dry dates and details.

Ms. Prinz’s playing of Mozart showed that she possesses a sure memory, keen harmonic grasp, and a penchant for assertive, stylish, articulations. It also revealed her boldness in taking tempi just a tad slower than one is accustomed to hearing. Her measured tempi were refreshing, as there is much to explore in each phrase of this great work.

Whether the pianist’s explorations were completely successful is a matter of debate, for while her playing was replete with musically interesting ideas – the sorts that make students run to a practice room after a lesson to rethink things – one didn’t always feel that Ms. Prinz followed through on her own demonstrated impulses. For example, while she excelled at demarcating phrases, especially entrances, there was not the same attention to shape and sustained line. One could almost hear the declamatory “here is the main theme!” before it receded, or the hushed “here is an introspective echo” right before it resurged. Occasionally such reservations seemed a matter of digital control – as top “pinky” notes seemed eclipsed by stronger fingers, trills were sometimes labored or uneven, and crescendi seemed to need more gradation – but it seems fairest to assume that a performer is playing a certain way because he chooses to, and not by default, so I will simply say that I did not always grasp Ms. Prinz’s aesthetic.

In some ways, such a style resembles that of harpsichordists at the piano, quite sensitive to varying articulations and precise in attack, but not always fully utilizing the resources of arm weight to maximize a piano’s capacity for flexible “singing lines.” The result is sometimes more brittle than delicate. While this approach is less than ideal in solo playing, it is common enough in collaborations, and in fact Ms. Prinz is a very active collaborator. She arranged Mozart’s Sonatas for flute and piano with her flutist collaborator Patrick Gallois, and the 2013 recording of it is available on Naxos. Incidentally, her discography is growing to include many items of interest, including works of Schulhoff, d’Indy, and Krenek.

Moving on to Schubert, Ms. Prinz again exhibited an intense energy throughout, never “phoning it in.” Her notes stated that each Impromptu is a “musical jewel” – and this reviewer agrees! The C minor Impromptu was a treasure chest of ideas – again some left unfulfilled but still memorable. The E-flat Impromptu was effective overall, with polished pearling runs over a sure left hand in its outer sections. Only the middle section disappointed, with the repeated triplets becoming overly insistent to overpower more melodic lines. Once again, though, there was always a conscious quality that provokes thought.

The much-loved G-flat Major Impromptu, along with being a gem, is a good litmus test for tonal control issues (though again we do not know what the pianist intended); in any case, the lower accompanying figures tended to overwhelm the outer lines yet again. It is possible that it was a case of deliberately championing the “underdog” underlying harmonies, but in this listener’s experience, the most transporting performances give a sense of those harmonies without their being too pronounced – like a person whose presence is felt without asserting a dominating voice.

The final Impromptu in A-flat closed the set and the first half well, showing admirable lightness in the cascading right hand. While I did not agree musically with the pronounced accent at the foot of each descent, it was an interesting interpretation leading one to look forward to the second half.

Carnaval, in the recital’s second half, had much to admire. Here, by necessity, Ms. Prinz took a much freer approach, physically and musically, and explored a much wider range of dynamics – and the approach suited her. Unafraid to take Schumann’s eccentric fluctuations of tempo to extremes, even with some accompanying risk-taking, Ms. Prinz showed an imaginative grasp of Schumann’s fanciful cast of characters. Her Pierrot movement showed good humor, and her Eusebius had the most persuasive singing lines in the whole recital. Occasionally things got a bit too hectic (particularly the Paganini section), but it was refreshing to see this pianist cast caution to the winds. The close was a wonderful stomping march against the Philistines, a strong finish that left the happy audience clapping in rhythm. Encores were Chopin’s “Black Key” Etude in G-flat, from Op. 10, and Träumerei from Schumann’s Kinderszenen.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Sound of Unity: Exhibit in Concert in Review

The Sound of Unity: Exhibit in Concert in Review

The Sound of Unity: Exhibit in Concert
Sven Stucke, violin; Johann Blanchard, piano
St. Peter’s Church, New York, NY
April 11, 2015

 

In celebration of the 25th Anniversary of the German Reunification, W&T Arts Promotion presented a moving and informative evening of film and music that was, by virtue of its very historical background, far from celebratory until the very end. Recounting the division of Germany, heartbreaking separations of loved ones, struggles of the East Germans that included oppression, failed efforts to escape, and death, the chief rays of hope were US contributions and the Berlin Airlift – that is, until the film’s apotheosis, the final reunification of the nation. It was all an important reminder of the mistakes and horrors the world must avoid.

As described on the presenter’s website, the event combined “exclusive digital exhibition materials provided by Stiftung Gedenkstätten Sachsen-Anhalt with carefully programmed live music to replicate a neo-silent film experience.” The term “silent film” was not quite accurate (hence the prefix “neo” I suppose), because there were some spoken interviews in the film while live music was being performed (not so respectful to the music, in my opinion); in many respects, however, the stated mission of the presenters was successful, that is, to tell this tragic but ultimately triumphant chapter in the world’s history.

Assigned as a music reviewer, I was prepared to focus on the two German musicians, violinist Sven Stucke with pianist Johann Blanchard, and some accompanying atmospheric film footage, but the evening, as I suggested, turned out to be more about the film. Such events are not the ideal forum for reviewing musicians, but both performers acquitted themselves of the task remarkably well.

 

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Substantial text on the history was projected onto one wall with dramatic images, which directed one’s attention largely away from these two engaging musicians, so the effect was that of a soundtrack heard live, probably not quite the best use of the talents that these classical musicians have honed. With apologies to The Buggles, the evening brought to mind the famous song “Video Killed the Radio Star” – in a classical context. Each musical work was chosen to flow seamlessly into the next (with no introductions or pauses), but a measure of musical integrity was sacrificed in the process, despite much superb playing. Perhaps it also didn’t help that I happened to sit just between the musicians and the wall on which the film turned out to be projected – a whiplash-inducing situation which forced a choice between performers and film as a focus. Some misspellings and unidiomatic English (in captions and text) required several readings of various parts, so that even less attention was left for these fine musicians.

The musical aspect suffered some of its own compromises as well. The very first musical selections were excerpts from Vitali’s Chaconne in G Minor and Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 1. One had barely heard what seemed like a few moments of the Chaconne from Mr. Stucke, an excellent violinist, when it was time to move on to the Bruch, again an excerpt – and with piano reduction. Even in a composer’s arrangement and with an expert collaborator in Mr. Blanchard, such a reading is not as fulfilling as one with an orchestra, and any experienced musician cannot help comparing.

Playing-wise, Mr. Stucke displayed effortless precision in his intonation and intense expressiveness. In addition, he showed impressive stamina, playing for around ninety minutes straight, with almost no rest, though he did have a two-minute break while the pianist played “Von fremden Ländern und Menschen” from Schumann’s Kinderszenen – very sensitively, one should add. In other words, Mr. Stucke played what amounted to a generous full-length violin recital, but with no intermission, a demanding feat, for which a performer might expect to reap big artistic rewards. Instead, the program resembled a musical “potluck” in service to a documentary. Let there be no mistake – this evening was indeed informative, the marking of this anniversary was extremely important, and the footage used was quite moving. It just seems that, if the presenter of it is also the manager of these two artists (as it appears from the website), more caution needs to be taken with their art.

The pianist Mr. Blanchard matched the violinist in outlays of energy, though occasionally I found him overly deferential to the violin part. He is a skillful and versatile musician who has ample credentials, including a recently recorded CD of the music of Chaminade.

The program continued with two Shostakovich Preludes (Op. 34, No. 10 and 24), plus the Perpetuum Mobile from Ravel’s Violin Sonata No. 2, and selections from Dvořák’s Four Romantic Pieces, Op. 75. All were played well, to complement scenes that shifted from mournful to frenzied, from nostalgic to diabolic. The inclusion of Devil’s Dance, by John Williams, was an effective touch. Perhaps the use of more such film music would strike musicians in the audience as less of a compromise than a pastiche of concert excerpts.

The largest share of the program went to music by Lera Auerbach, a composer I greatly admire. Two Preludes were selected from Op. 46 (Nos. 15 and 16) and the Sonata No. 2 for Violin and Piano, Op. 63, followed. At one point during extremely bleak and quiet music, a voice in the film burst forth loudly completely breaking the spell, but the pieces were nonetheless hauntingly played. There were several such cases where the synchronization seemed awry somehow.

The Sonata, which is subtitled September 11, was powerful in evoking tragedy and devastation, albeit from a different source and point in history than East Germany’s. I hope to hear it performed live all over again, but with my own imagined (and unfortunately remembered) “footage.”

Poulenc’s Sonata, FP 119, was the last large work and was also a successful collaboration between pianist and violinist. Again, one would like to hear the duo perform it without the accompanying mental exercise of wondering how this or that was meant to fit with the film. In any case the duo should perform it often.

The program concluded with– what else? – Beethoven’s Ode to Joy in a Blanchard/Stucke arrangement. It is a hard thing to pull off the nobility and scope of this symphonic movement without a full orchestra, but the duo coped well, starting softly and slowly before bursting into a pyrotechnic Paganini-esque display. There were quite a few “un-Beethovenian” sounds in the ramped up violin part, and the piano part sounded somewhat improvised – probably another ad hoc element on this program – but it all built to enough of a climax to close the program with spirit.

 

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