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
Multicultural Sonic Evolution (MuSE) presents Sookkyung Cho, Pianist in Review

Multicultural Sonic Evolution (MuSE) presents Sookkyung Cho, Pianist in Review

Multicultural Sonic Evolution (MuSE) presents Sookkyung Cho, Piano
Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
March 24, 2015

An engaging evening of piano music entitled “Two in One” started appropriately this week with an enchanting miniature entitled Snowdrop (2015) suggesting the beauty of this time of year, transitions and contrasts between winter and spring, and as the program notes describe, “despair and hope.” Written for this evening’s pianist, Sookkyung Cho, by composer Yui Kitamura (b. 1983 – also the Artistic Director of MuSE), it was given a sensitive and imaginative reading. Evoking the melting of ice under gently streaming treble figurations, the work is characterized by a winsome tonal lyricism that brought to mind the music of Norman Dello Joio, while always possessing an individual voice. It was an auspicious start to the program.

On to the weightier works, Ms. Cho proved herself to be more than up to handling the challenges in Schumann’s sprawling Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6, and more. Ms. Cho is, not surprisingly, the winner of a slew of awards and honors, including from The Juilliard School where she received her Bachelor of Music and DMA degrees, and from The Peabody Institute (MM). She demonstrates a keen intelligence, strong technical command, and impressive stamina, with a physical approach that is strong but undemonstrative. There was much to commend about each of the eighteen character pieces, which alternately conveyed Schumann’s contrasting sides of the spirited Florestan and introverted Eusebius (both part of the “Band of David” to which the title refers – and both in keeping with this concert’s duality theme). The performances were taut, polished, and respectful to the score, with only the occasional fingerfehler. They showed almost no excess (except the rare overly resonant bass line, perhaps due to the piano) and virtually no self-indulgence, so there was not an instant when one would say that the performer’s ego got in the way; on the flip-side, though, one sometimes wanted more individual intimacy and abandon. After all, this set was composed while Schumann was in the throes of longing for his love, Clara, and it contains some of the most vivid and moving music of the Romantic period.

After intermission, Ms. Cho played C.P.E Bach’s Fantasia in F-sharp minor, Wq67, a rather underplayed and intriguing work, and a perfect dramatic and historical pairing with the next, Beethoven’s 32 Variations on an Original Theme in C Minor, WoO 80. In a way, the evening’s theme of duality, or as the program notes framed it, “dialectic in music,” could be plausibly applied to countless works and programs, but it did make a viable “hook” on which to hang these works for those needing more than simply an evening of great works. The best “hook” is always good playing, and we enjoyed a good measure of it, but the premise for the inclusion of this Beethoven work was that it has “an extremely regular bass line with free florid lines in his variations.” That was certainly clear in Ms. Cho’s able hands, with only small lapses.

As part of a Korean-Western duality, two selections from Three Korean Minyo (2014) by Teddy Niedermaier (b. 1983) were presented as a New York Premiere. They were a highlight of the evening. We heard the songful “Bluebird, Bluebird” and the rather jazzy “Song of the Roasted Chestnuts” – both folk song transcriptions full of character and color. Ms. Cho showed the most involvement of the evening in these, and the pieces sprung to life in winning performances.

The program concluded with Liszt’s Après une Lecture de Dante, Fantasia quasi Sonata, to adhere to the theme of the program, the quintessential Romantic battle of light and dark. For many pianists it is also a battle to navigate through torrents of octaves, but there were no such problems for Ms. Cho, who concluded the evening with brilliance.

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

HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante in Review

HH Promotions London LLC presents Carlo Grante, Piano
Masters of High Romanticism – Concert II: Schumann – The Piano Sonatas,
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center New York, NY
December 15, 2014
 

Italian pianist Carlo Grante is a musician of superabundant gifts. Possessing a discography of over fifty CD recordings, he is much more than a recording artist, demonstrating such thorough pianistic mastery onstage that, if his concerts were recorded straight to disc, one would be hard pressed to think of a single spot to edit. He is unflappable in the face of tremendous technical, musical, and intellectual challenges, reminding this reviewer in many ways of Marc-André Hamelin, but with a mellower persona. While Mr. Grante’s weighty program of Schumann Piano Sonatas at Alice Tully Hall perhaps precluded glimpses of the lighter showmanship aspect of Mr. Hamelin, Mr. Grante’s prodigious skills are certainly comparable, and that says a lot.

Incidentally, these two pianists, in conjunction with their Godowsky recordings, were first linked in many minds with the exposure of the now infamous Joyce Hatto recording fraud in 2007, through which their work was appropriated. Though Ms. Hatto was described in the Boston Globe as “the greatest living pianist that almost no one has ever heard of,” she had in fact been wrongfully credited with recordings by numerous other pianists, including Mr. Grante and Mr. Hamelin. If turnabout is fair play, Mr. Grante could thus perhaps have been described as one of “the greatest living pianists that almost no one has ever heard of” – except that we have now heard of him, and for good reason, with a career that has been on quite a roll.

As part of a three-concert solo series entitled “Masters of High Romanticism” Mr. Grante brings to this Lincoln Center season the complete Ballades and Scherzi of Chopin (reviewed in this journal-Carlo Grante Review 10/31/14 ), his recent complete Piano Sonatas of Schumann, and, yet to come, Variations of Brahms (February 10, 2015- not to be missed). This series is no mean feat and is bookended by other concerts including fistfuls more of – you guessed it – Godowsky, plus more Chopin and a brand new work by Bruce Adolphe.

While expectations were quite high for this all-Schumann program, and the pianist was in flawless form, this reviewer will confess to a bit of a growing bias against “survey” programs, and this recital reinforced the feeling. While it was interesting to hear the three Sonatas in a row, Op. 11 in F-sharp minor from 1835, Op. 14 in F minor from 1836/1853, and the Op. 22 in G minor from 1833-38, binge listening does not seem the ideal way to experience these works. The idiosyncratic Schumann tends to undercut himself when heard in large quantities, especially when all is grappling within versions of Sonata form, so while it was a fascinating journey in the name of thoroughness and scholarship (reflected well in Mr. Grante’s own thoughtful program notes), one might have enjoyed more of the quirkiness, the intimacy, and the multiplicity that are so quintessentially Schumann, had one included one of the sets such as Kreisleriana or Davidsbündlertänze. Schumann did display manic swings in the Sonatas, but one missed much of the extremely free musical expressiveness that lives in so many of the composer’s other works. If this was to be a traversal of Schumann within the framework of “High Romanticism” perhaps the choice of sonatas from essentially one decade was not ideal. One craved more of the Florestan-Eusebius duality in Mr. Grante’s sane and cerebral renderings. Mr. Grante’s modest demeanor is refreshing for such a powerhouse, but he might have benefited at times from a more demonstrative approach. One eagerly awaits his Brahms on the basis of his tremendous control, effortless technique, and keen musical mind.

His Schumann was in each case, as mentioned before, immaculate, with no hint of technical strain in the large swaths of musical texture. Sections that often seem sprawling and unwieldy were kept well in hand. Mr. Grante recorded these works years ago, and the familiarity shows. A minor grievance was some excessive blurring, which may have been attributable to the acoustics in conjunction with the instrument.

The highest points artistically for me were in the F Minor and F-sharp minor Sonatas – especially the Aria movement of the latter. Oddly, though, the performance of the more accessible and popular G Minor Sonata will not linger in memory with as much luster. Perhaps, because it stands more easily on its own, it was left to do just that, with less energy in the projection. Its Andantino, which I consider a movement of great transcendental beauty, just missed being the dream that it can be. Of course, one’s preferences can grow rather set with a lifetime of hearing (and playing) such favorites.

All in all it was a fascinating evening, an unusual program from a fine pianist whom I hope to hear again soon.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Stecher and Horowitz Foundation Presents Charlie Albright in Review

Stecher and Horowitz Foundation Presents Charlie Albright in Review

 
Charlie Albright, Piano
Subculture, Arts Underground, New York, NY
November 20, 2014
 

Charlie Albright is a pianist whose name music-lovers will be hearing more and more. Winner of a slew of awards, most prominently a 2014 Avery Fisher Career Grant, Mr. Albright is now in the company of classical musicians who have become household names (given a classically oriented household anyway) – Ursula Oppens, Richard Stoltzman, Joshua Bell, Hillary Hahn, Yuja Wang, and many others who have made their marks. Mr. Albright will undoubtedly lend his own additional distinction to this already illustrious group.

As there are no applications for the Avery Fisher Career Grant (only recommendation by a board), the awardees must naturally have sufficient careers to be noticed, so some view the award as more of an honorary plum than an early boost. For the early boost, big kudos are due to the Stecher and Horowitz Foundation’s New York International Piano Competition (NYIPC), which awarded their First Prize in 2006 to the then seventeen-year-old Mr. Albright; they are a rare competition that follows up on their laureates, and eight years later they presented him in this concert, an evening not to be forgotten.

The program was, as Mr. Albright described from the stage, made of “familiar and less familiar” works. The more familiar included Beethoven’s Sonata in C-sharp minor, Op. 27, No. 2, Quasi una fantasia (the “Moonlight”), though, as the pianist noted in his informal comments from the stage, it is so famous that it has become almost “infamous” and is relatively underperformed today. It was good to hear this work in its entirety, live, and not massacred by a teenager as it so often is. Mr. Albright took a sprawling, leisurely tempo for the first movement, a challenge to sustain, but he held the audience’s unwavering attention. I was initially concerned about the casual feel of this rather trendy venue (with a bar adjoining and listeners quickly finishing drinks before start time), but I was quickly reassured. Blue lighting set a peaceful atmosphere for the capacity audience of avid listeners, and one could hear the proverbial pin drop. I began to see “what the fuss is all about” with this venue. Classical concert life is evolving in interesting directions, and the attempts to modernize it are interestingly bringing it back to the warm intimacy one associates with nineteenth century salons. What was old is new again. Beethoven, for one, felt new, because as casual as Mr. Albright was in his stage style and commentary, he was equally intense in his high-powered performances. The finale of this 1801 work took on the fire of the master’s Op. 57 or 111. It was brilliant, precise, and powerful.

Janácek’s Piano Sonata 1.X.1905 (“From the Street”) may have been meant to be among the “less familiar” but has been programmed increasingly in the last decade or so, so I’ve heard it no fewer than six times live in the past few years; it is always, however, a revelation. Mr. Albright chose to take dynamic markings to extremes more than I’ve heard in the first movement (especially left hand phrases, even though marked in the score as strong). The exaggeration was striking, although not always completely convincing to me.

The despair inherent in the Janácek was dispelled by Chopin’s well-known Andante Spianato and Grande Polonaise Brillante, Op. 22. Mr. Albright projected the opening phrases with limpid delicacy and took the ensuing Polonaise by storm. It was a joyous romp, untroubled by petty concerns, free and full of whimsy and yet cohesive, which it often is not. The way Chopin dovetails delicate cadences with bursts of virtuoso energy is enough to cause a good musician the emotional equivalent of whiplash, but Mr. Albright steered things gracefully always, appearing to have fun all the way. In fact, throughout the entire evening, he displayed a joy in playing that was utterly infectious. He disarms jaded concertgoers with an openness and humility that for some reason we are not prepared to expect of one who earned simultaneous degrees in Economics (Harvard), and Pre-Med (Harvard), while studying for a Master of Music degree the following year (New England Conservatory). Clearly not wanting for “gray matter” Mr. Albright brings a vibrant spirit and limitless range to his performances. He possesses the kind of intellect that doesn’t stop growing and will no doubt continue to surprise as his career progresses. I’ll be looking forward to following him.

The second half consisted of the twelve Chopin Etudes, Op. 25, continuing to exploit this pianist’s nearly effortless technique while reflecting sensitivity and imagination. Mr. Albright offered a thumbnail description of each Etude (a nice touch along with the fine program notes), adding a healthy dose of humor. He peppered his comments on the first one (“Aeolian Harp”) with references to “that thingy” the harpist does and drew appreciative laughter, but then played it with sincerity and mastery. He described Chopin’s F Major Etude as resembling galloping horses (though adding, “not quite ‘Gangnam Style'”) and his playing followed through with tremendous spirit and interesting voicing surprises. The A Minor Etude, Op. 25, No. 4 he likened to “target practice” – and anyone who has played it would have to agree – but Mr. Albright is an able marksman and fared well. The E minor (which he likened to a “drunk guy” in the opening section) included some of his most inspired playing, replete with playful pauses, creative accentuations, and interesting voicing (if some vanishing right hand passagework in its central section). The B minor Etude in octaves (No. 10) was too fast and rough for my liking but it was certainly effective in building blizzard-like effects, and the central B Major section was ethereal. The Etude No. 11 (“Winter Wind”), was, as they say, “as good as it gets” – and so was No. 12 (“The Ocean”), which started more softly than one usually hears, a good decision (despite markings) when pacing so many Etudes in a row.

A highlight of the evening was the first encore, Mr. Albright’s own improvisation on notes provided by the audience – in this case, B-flat, C, E-flat and A. He looked unfazed by the first three suggested notes, but the fourth offering was apparently bad news, prompting a grimace and an “oh, boy … we’ll talk after the concert.” The improvisation was nonetheless spectacular, and the spontaneity, even with stylistic similarity to Chopin and Rachmaninoff, kept one on the edge of one’s seat. If the music world is worried about the widening chasm between audience and performer, Mr. Albright is just the answer, especially with this improvisatory element. While I can’t say I agreed with every interpretation by this pianist, especially the occasional roughness that sometimes comes with “going for broke,” the improvisation alone was worth the trip, and the program offered much to love.

A second encore, the Mozart-Volodos Rondo alla Turca (with some Albright additions?) was perhaps a bit “too much of a good thing” but one must allow a mid-twenties artist his exuberance. It seemed that a broken string was adding to the clangor, the Steinway’s own contribution to the Turkish Janissary band. Bravo – and encore!

 

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