Şahan Arzruni, pianist and musicologist

The National Arts Club, New York, NY

March 5, 2024

The National Arts Club this week hosted one of the most engaging lecture recitals in memory, as Armenian pianist and musicologist Şahan Arzruni discussed and performed music by Armenian women composers. He featured the composers (listed chronologically here) Lucy Hazarabedian, Koharik Gazarossian, Sirvart Karamanuk, Gayane Chebotaryan, Geghuni Chitchyan, Alicia Terzian, Sirvart Kazandjian, and Mary Kouyoumdjian. Their compositions ranged in date from 1879 to 2020, but thematic origins go much further back in the case of the Alicia Terzian piece, based on the melody Zarmanali e ints (“It is amazing to me”), which is an eighth-century chant known to be composed by a woman and still sung in Armenian churches today. It is, according to Mr. Arzruni, the world’s earliest extant example of music created by a woman (whether that woman was Khosrovidukht, as most believe, or Sahakdukht, as others maintain). So, given that chant, the evening could be said to have spanned over a millennium of music by Armenian women.

All of this history would be interesting to any musician or Armenologist, but it was the talented and passionate Şahan Arzruni who brought it all to life for us on Tuesday. An octogenarian now, he projected more of the spirit of exploration than many teenagers. His excitement over his various discoveries was contagious. Having reviewed him in 2016 in a benefit concert he played to raise funds for an Armenian home for the elderly, I already knew of his ceaseless work for Armenia, but his honors and distinctions have only grown, too many to enumerate, so the reader is encouraged to visit his website (Şahan Arzruni ). A CD of the music we heard is in the works, and based on what I heard I’ll be looking out for it.

Mr. Arzruni opened with three of the Six Preludes from 1948 by Gayane Chebotaryan (1918-1998), whom he called the grande dame of Armenian music. As Gayane Chebotaryan was also a musicologist who wrote about the music of Aram Khachaturian in 1969, shades of Khachaturian’s sound in her music seemed not too surprising; apart from that, there was also a highly individual bluesy quality to the opening selection, and Mr. Arzruni drew his audience into its inviting tonal world. The third selection brought to mind hints of the Polovetsian Dances of Borodin (not too surprising, as the old region of Polovtsi – also known as Cumania – abutted Armenia), and Mr. Arzruni played it winningly. He finished this opening set with élan.

Moving to our time, we heard the Ode to Vahan (1996) by Alicia Terzian (b. 1934), an Argentine composer of Armenian descent who at Mr. Arzruni’s request based her work on the abovementioned eighth-century chant; don’t be misled, however, into thinking that the chant’s sacred spot in the liturgy made Terzian’s work a peaceful one. Ode to Vahan is a probing and troubling work, opening with explosive bass clusters on the piano and combining recorded sounds –  spoken and choral – to haunting effect. When one learns the devastating story behind the chant, the drama is more graspable, but there will be no spoilers here. The reader will simply need to read the CD liner notes when the time comes. Meanwhile, Mr. Arzruni is to be commended for taking on such a challenge and playing it with mastery.

Zigzagging back another half-century, the recital continued with Koharik Gazarossian (1907-1967), who was greatly influenced by her experience copying scores by Komitas, the “father of Armenian music” (whose exile during the Armenian Genocide had also resulted in the relocation of his manuscripts, hence the need for copying). Two of a set of four of her pieces from 1947 were included, My Child, Your Mother Is Dead and Your Name is Shushan. The first was of course funereal, with even just its title too unbearable to hear – while the second piece seemed to reflect more the folk influence of Komitas, who had gone to great lengths to collect original Armenian music, as Mr. Arzruni explained. This reviewer, for one, felt inspired to explore further.

Sadly there is no way to condense a dissertation’s worth of information into this review – or to replicate Mr. Arzruni’s skill as raconteur, but suffice it to say that his gifts in that area made this already revelatory evening still more of a delight. His personal experiences with several of the featured composers colored the drier scholarly information, and though he would say “this is neither here nor there” about a digression, his human interest tidbits did much to bring the composers closer to us. Mr. Arzruni is no stranger to the world of pure entertainment, after all, and it should be remembered that he was once the “straight man” (and collaborative pianist) for the great Victor Borge. He repeatedly checked the audience’s pulse with, “How are we doing?” – and it was so refreshing after many concerts in which the audience has felt like an afterthought; exactly like Borge, however, Şahan Arzruni’s gift for humor works alongside a considerable musical gift that is not be taken lightly.

The next composer included, and the youngest was Mary Kouyoumdjian (b. 1983 in Beirut of Armenian heritage), currently part of the New York Philharmonic’s Project 19 (a multiyear initiative to commission new pieces from 19 women composers). Ms. Kouyoumdjian’s piano piece, I Haven’t the Words (2020), was written in response to the pandemic along with the growing social and political unrest of that year, and the music left this listener feeling exactly the sentiment of its title. Repeated eighth note patterns in expanding intervals created an almost nightmarish spell – and not through harsh cacophony but through cumulative musical tension. The composer was present to take a bow with Mr. Arzruni and was given an enthusiastic ovation. Many will certainly want to attend the premiere of her new work by the New York Philharmonic on May 10th.

A total break from our time came with The Nightingale of Armenia (1879) by Lucy Hazarabedian (1863- c.1882). Hazarabedian was, Mr. Arzruni speculates, probably the first female composer of Armenian piano music. Though The Nightingale of Armenia is simply a friendly little polka created when the composer was just sixteen and first published in an almanac in 1913 (long after the composer’s untimely death), it was certainly a welcome touch to have something from the nineteenth century on the program, and Mr. Arzruni played its century-overdue premiere with charm.

Following the Hazarabedian miniature came a spontaneous-sounding Dance-Song (1965), composed by Mr. Arzruni’s maternal aunt, Sirvart Karamanuk (1912-2008). It was given an energetic performance and was followed by The Bells of Ani (1971) by Sirvart Kazandjian (1944-2020), from Ms. Kazandjian’s volume À ma Patrie (To my Homeland). Though Ms. Kazandjian was actually born in Ethiopia where there was once a strong Armenian community, her myriad bell sounds spoke from her Armenian heart, built to a huge climax, and left a feeling of tragedy in the aftermath. Mr. Arzruni was an excellent advocate for the piece, as he was for each one on the program. Though it is hard to believe in this day of information overload that much of this Armenian music remains virtually unknown, Şahan Arzruni is here to remedy that, among other missions.

The program closed on an “up” note with the Sonatina (1986) by Geghuni Chitchyan (b.1929). As things seemed to be running late, Mr. Arzruni quipped “I’m gonna play as fast as possible” – and he did just about that! The little piece breezed by, with its energetic neo-classical opening, beautifully lyrical central movement, and jaunty last movement with hints of humor à la Shostakovich. It was a strong ending to an inspiring evening.

One could only feel grateful for what was a life-affirming reminder – even from such a troubled region in a troubled world – that the greatness of Armenia is here to stay. Zarmanali e ints, indeed. It is amazing to me.

Charles Neidich, clarinet; Ayako Oshima, clarinet

Michael Lowenstern, bass clarinet; Mohamed Shams, piano

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 1, 2024

The Tenri Cultural Institute was packed this Friday as the WA Concert Series presented a “re-debut” program entitled “The World of the Expanded Clarinet” led by WA co-founders Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima. It reminded us of how much we’ve been missing since March of 2020, when the onslaught of COVID-19 forced their hiatus (apart from some virtual offerings). I am happy to report that they are back and better than ever!

WA concerts have always been known for their fascinating, sometimes eclectic, programs, performed by dazzling musicians, with clarinetists Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima (Mr. Neidich’s wife and partner) at the helm. Your reviewer (along with most of the music world) has admired the virtuoso playing of Charles Neidich for over four decades now (his biography being too crammed with honors and distinctions to relay but found here: Charles Neidich), and the brilliant Ayako Oshima has established herself as a formidable force in her own right – but Friday’s “dream team” was made still stronger with the inclusion of rock-solid pianist Mohamed Shams and ingenious bass clarinetist Michael Lowenstern.

The program incorporated old and new, including well-known nineteenth-century music by César Franck and Ernest Chausson and twentieth-century works of Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979), Yayoi Kitazume (b. 1945), and Edison Denisov (1929-1996), plus compositions by Mr. Lowenstern (b. 1968) and Mr. Neidich (b. 1953).

The evening started with Trois Pièces by Nadia Boulanger, a set originally composed for organ in 1911, arranged by the composer in 1914 for cello and piano, and transcribed for clarinet “last week” by Mr. Neidich, as he announced much to the amusement of the audience. The opening Moderato was a perfect welcome to the concert, with its dreamy clarinet lines floating over quasi-impressionistic piano accompaniment. The second piece, Sans vitesse et à l’aise,brought to mind the restrained sorrow of some of Ravel’s more solemn works and was delivered with eloquence. In both of these pieces, the clarinet handled the original cello lines with equivalent or heightened lyricism, sacrificing nothing, while in the third and final piece, Vite et nerveusement rythmé, the clarinet seemed actually to add a spiky precision to the work’s frenetic energy. Bravo to this wonderful addition to the clarinet transcription literature!

Ayako Oshima took the stage next to perform the U.S. premiere of a 2017 work by Yayoi Kitazume with its title translated from the Japanese as “Teetering Balance” and based on the Paul Klee painting of a similar title, usually referred to as “Unstable Equilibrium” (1922, watercolor over pencil). Until Ms. Oshima pointed it out, this listener was unaware that there were program notes (accessible by a QR code in the printed program), including a reprint of the Paul Klee artwork, so not having been able to envision the artwork before hearing it made listening an even more interesting experiment. There was only the music as a guide in what seemed a fascinating exploration of musical space. Upon later reading in Ms. Kitazume’s notes that she “wanted to construct a three-dimensional piece of music that blended time frames and directions of consciousness” the work and performance seemed in retrospect even more remarkably on target. Ms. Oshima painted with her clarinet a picture so vivid that most visual artists would be envious. It was a highlight of the concert.

Another highlight of the program was the performance by Mr. Neidich of the Sonata for solo clarinet (1972) by the important Russian avant-garde composer Edison Denisov, whose brilliance transcended Soviet beleaguering and blacklisting. We know from Mr. Neidich’s introduction that he personally knew Denisov from his own time in Moscow and that Denisov considered Mr. Neidich’s 1975 performance of the piece to be its premiere (in terms of authority if not chronology), and one could see why. The work is, among other things, a tour de force for the instrument, exploiting microtones, the haunting bending of pitches, flutter tongue techniques, fiendish leaps of register, and constant metric changes – and Mr. Neidich is clearly still a master of it all nearly fifty years later. Part of his power is that he projects the character and direction of each phrase as if playing it for the first time – never any “phoning in” – and even a lay person, who might be unaccustomed to navigating such challenging music, could grasp it. Particularly striking was the second and final movement, Allegro giusto, in which a quietly obsessive B-flat (concert pitch A-flat) asserts its presence persistently amid surrounding histrionics (suggesting the disproportionate havoc caused by something tiny, say, a mouse). To hear these disjunct roles achieved by a single player is amazing, and the way Mr. Neidich concluded the work with that final idée fixe note after a long rest made it hard not to gasp in reaction (whether or not an audience member could distinguish any pitch from a hole in the ground). That is communication through music, and that is what one has come to expect from WA concerts.

It is always interesting to hear a performer play his own music, and this evening’s inclusion of Why? (2020) by Charles Neidich (the in-person world premiere) was no exception. It offered the opportunity to hear the Neidich-Oshima clarinet duo in what was Mr. Neidich’s musical response to the “tragedy, misfortune, and injustice” (according to his notes) that loomed in the early stages of the pandemic but with “even more urgency in 2024.” The question “Why?” refers to “why people do not take the necessary step of joining together to protect humanity and the world we live in.” The duo made their statement with music of individual searching, incidental dissonance, and clashing parallel pursuits that never quite meet or settle.

The first half concluded with the balm of a more familiar style via the Andante et Allegro (1881) of Ernest Chausson. It was given a winning performance by Mr. Neidich with Mohamed Shams, whose collaborative skills rendered his considerable pianism almost parenthetical.

Every concert has its takeaway “discovery” – and, in this instance, that discovery greeted us after intermission. Billed on the program only as “Surprise” to be played by Michael Lowenstern, it turned out to be Mr. Lowenstern’s performance of his own bass clarinet version of Summertime from Gershwin’s opera, Porgy and Bess, based on an improvisation Mr. Lowenstern first recorded in 1994. It seems hard to believe that back when this reviewer was a doctoral student frequenting “record stores” (remember those?), she had never come across Mr. Lowenstern’s awe-inspiring performance; in retrospect, however, she just might have heard it in passing but assumed it was some kind of unusual jazz ensemble. You see, what Mr. Lowenstern does here is to become a one-man band. If one closes one’s eyes, one hears not just the clarinet singing out the famous melody, but the gradual entry of a percussion section through the equivalent of clarinet beat-boxing, miraculously the faint pizzicato of a double bass interwoven here and there, and myriad other wind evocations – all held together with a beat sometimes heard but sometimes simply felt. To hear it is a delight – but to see it is mind-boggling. It was a miraculous performance.

Mr. Neidich reemerged from backstage with evident pride in a musician he smilingly called “my progeny” and was then joined by Mr. Shams for the Sonata for violin and piano in A Major (1886) of César Franck, transcribed for clarinet by Mr. Neidich, himself. It was an unforgettable feat, especially after so much other music-making. Mr. Neidich’s playing, with tremendous support from Mr. Shams, made a great case for the clarinet’s ability to do just about anything. That being said (and with apologies), this listener is a diehard fan of the piece in its violin (and even cello) versions, still preferring the string timbres and still preferring the way the phrases seem somehow born to be bowed. It need not be an either-or proposition, though, as pianists know very well (as they plunder the entire orchestral repertoire) – so it is chiefly a personal preference. Such objects of “transcription desire” are like Mt. Everest – we have to climb it because it is there. This Franck transcription undoubtedly expands the repertoire for the clarinetists out there who can handle it, as has been done for the flute and any number of other instruments. After all, Franck “asked for it” by composing such a gorgeous piece of music. The resulting standing ovation was well deserved, and an encore of Autumn Song (October) followed, from Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, in a touching clarinet-piano arrangement.

Unbelievably, the musical feast was followed by a gourmet feast – the creation of Ayako Oshima. Long may the WA concerts brighten the cultural scene in New York City!

Mira Armij Gill, pianist; Francisco Salazar, violin

Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall, New York

Sunday February 25, 2024

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall was packed this Sunday with an audience eager to hear pianist Mira Armij Gill play a program of Samuel Barber – and they were amply rewarded. The concert was billed as “In Memory of John Browning” (1933-2003). Mr. Browning was of course (among other distinctions) an outstanding champion of Barber’s music, and he was also one of Ms. Gill’s teachers at the Juilliard School, where she received her bachelor’s and master’s degrees. For those unable to attend Sunday’s performance – or for those who want to hear the music again – a CD of her playing this same repertoire has been released just this month on the Centaur label, now available for purchase from major streaming and retail sites. Autographed CDs are also available for purchase at her website via the following link: CD).

For a (mostly) single-composer program, this concert was artfully varied. It helped that, in addition to playing Barber’s Sonata Op. 26 (1949), Excursions Op. 20 (1944-48), Ballade Op. 46 (1977), and Nocturne Op. 33 (1959), Ms. Gill was joined by her husband, violinist Francisco Salazar, in Barber’s Canzone Op. 38a (1962), the essence of which many would recognize from the slow movement of Barber’s Piano Concerto Op. 38  (in one of its incarnations from 1962 – the Elegy  for flute and piano of 1959 being another). This change in instrumental timbres brought welcome refreshment to the program – and the duo played it beautifully together.

As soloist, Mira Gill clearly demonstrated that she has earned the many laurels that appear in her biography. She is gifted with both technical facility and interpretive imagination. The first piece, Barber’s Nocturne, opened with a warm, lovely sound. Though it had some of the unease that can beset recital openings, it progressed quickly to more involved music-making, with some moments that were truly inspired. The trill towards the end, which Barber marks with the rather unusual instruction trattenuto,was absolutely transporting.

Next came a moving rendition of Barber’s achingly beautiful Canzone by Ms. Gill with her husband Francisco Salazar. Though this reviewer prefers the tonal purity of the flute instrumentation of the original Elegy, the duo made the piece their own, with some generous slides and a ravishing final note from Mr. Salazar.

The Excursions were a great choice to follow, brimming with Americana to finish off the first half. Moments of these gems seemed again a bit less than settled, but certainly such moments would not exist on the newly released CD. If one were to guess, the issue could have been the shift between collaborative and solo playing, the adjustment from tablet for chamber score-reading back to rack-less piano for the solo works – or simply the stress of many friends needing to find a seat in the hall, as they seemed to stream in for much of the rather brief (twenty-eight-minute) first half. In any case, the rhythms were not quite as steady or motoric as one wants in the first piece, and there were momentary glitches here and there in the others. The third Excursion, though – the musical heart of the set – was played to a tee. This listener is quite fussy about that third Excursion, but Ms. Gill could give a masterclass on it, right down to the perfect final voicing and pedal change. The audience seemed to agree and could not restrain their applause.

The second half opened with the only non-Barber work, the Romance for violin and piano by Reinhold Glière, played in moving tribute to the memory of the recently departed sound engineer and producer, Joe Patrych. For all of us who miss Joe and his ubiquitous presence in the New York music world, it was hard to hold back tears.

On the subject of musicians we’ve lost, this listener could only wonder throughout the concert what insights about Barber may have emerged from Ms. Gill’s lessons with John Browning. There were moments in Ms. Gill’s Barber interpretations that sounded unlike any others that this listener has heard, and presumably some of those may be attributable to studies with Mr. Browning.  One of the aspects of Ms. Gill’s playing that stood out was her penchant for demarcating phrases with longer than usual breaths. There was never the sense one hears from many players today of a metronome hiding in the wings. Then again, while a flexible, human sense of rhythm is important and dear to this reviewer’s heart, there were also moments in the concert when long breaths of demarcation struck this listener as possibly excessive. In the Ballade which came next for instance, though Barber does mark a comma sign in the opening phrases and in the return later, a lot of extra stretching threatens to turn 6/8 time into 7/8 time. Curiously, right before the allargando (in both beginning and return), the reverse happened, with rhythms feeling rather compressed. Such moments were thought-provoking, as they seemed fully the pianist’s intention, though they did surprise a listener accustomed to straighter renditions.

Barber’s greatest solo piano work, his Sonata Op. 26 (1949), is a powerful way to end a program, and Ms. Gill’s audience was not disappointed. There is a distinguished history of great performances of this piece, and the pianists topping the list include (among others) Vladimir Horowitz, John Browning, and Naumburg Award winner Howard Aibel (who happens to be the Founder and President of New York Concert Review, but whose stunning performance requires special mention here regardless); there is always room, naturally, for many more recordings of such masterpieces. Based on glimmers from Sunday’s performance, Ms. Gill’s interpretation seems destined to bring new angles and new touches of poetry to the mix. Her Adagio movement captured well the mournfulness of its mesto marking, and her finale had just the right ferocity in the coda. One looks forward very much to hearing it on disc, and if the recording projects the music’s power as well as she did in the heat of the moment – with no editing capabilities and many distractions – it promises to be a solid addition to the Barber discography. Brava!

A grateful audience gave a final standing ovation and was rewarded with an encore of Piazzolla’s Libertango, with Mr. Salazar joining again on violin. One looks forward to hearing Ms. Gill – and Mr. Salazar – again.

Distinguished Concert Singers International; Tucker Biddlecombe, guest conductor

Downtown Voices; guest conductor, Stephen Sands

Elizabeth Bates, soprano

Gabe Terraciano, fiddle; Jacob Joliff, mandolin; Charles Butler, banjo; Jerry Kimbrough, guitar; Mimi Jones, bass

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Sunday February 18, 2024

A large and enthusiastic crowd was present at Carnegie Hall this Sunday for yet another impressive program by Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) entitled “Bluegrass Mass” – named for just one of several powerful works they presented. DCINY has developed the knack for streamlining their massive undertakings, with seamless exits and entrances by hundreds of singers (and no intermission), so this concert, which lasted just one hour and contained just four works (three shorter, followed by the longer Bluegrass Mass) still felt jam-packed with enough music to ponder for a lifetime.

The program opened with three works sung by New York City’s very own chorus, Downtown Voices (a group of sixty-plus singers from a quick count), which combines voices from the Choir of Trinity Church Wall Street along with high-level volunteers. Downtown Voices sang three works, starting with a movement from Akathist by rising star Benedict Sheehan, moving on to Arnold Schoenberg’s Friede auf Erden (Peace on Earth) Op. 13, and closing their selections with Rachmaninoff’s sublime and moving “Bogorioditse Devo” from the All-Night Vigil Op. 37.

If this reviewer were primarily a choral musician, the composer Benedict Sheehan would surely have been a familiar name before this concert, as he is a two-time Grammy nominee and prizewinner whose proponents have recently included the stellar group Voces8; as an introduction, however, his uplifting composition spoke for itself. The Downtown Voices’ rendition of “In the Wondrous Blending of Sounds” the central movement from his larger work, Akathist, was simply breathtaking. Based on what Mr. Sheehan refers to as a “gently ornamented melody inspired by South African folk music” it was a perfect start to a program filled with references to peace and prayer amidst an often opposing reality. The choir projected its luminous harmonies with polish, thanks to the expert conducting of Maestro Stephen Sands, who led them from the movement’s faint beginnings into its full bloom. Soloist Elizabeth Bates contributed her pure senza vibrato soprano in one section, which intensified its hallowed feeling. The composer was present for a well-deserved bow from the balcony.

Arnold Schoenberg’s Friede auf Erden, Op. 13 (composed from 1906-1911 and premiered in 1911), provided just the right ballast amid such highly ethereal music. It is based on a poem by Conrad Ferdinand Meyer (1886), which despite its Christmas origins is filled with gritty reality and darkness. The music teeters accordingly between faith and desperation. A challenging and dissonant piece to sing (and originally premiered with orchestra for the purpose of keeping singers on course), it was sung here as originally written, a cappella. Any fleeting awkwardness in pitch only served to intensify the emotion of the piece, which ends in somewhat tenuous harmony, presumably reflective of the composer’s sentiments and those of many today. As Schoenberg wrote (1928), “It is perhaps correct that one must be religious in order to compose church music, or in love in order to compose love songs […], but still one must certainly not be wounded in order to portray a wounded person or dying in order to portray a dying person. And so it would certainly be possible to compose a peace hymn without believing in an eternal peace.” Sigh.

Especially on that note, the Rachmaninoff “Bogorioditse Devo” came as a balm in the program. One of this reviewer’s favorite pieces to begin with, it was given an extremely sensitive performance, vibrant with tonal colors. Its enormous dynamic range took one from gripping forte levels, enhanced by an especially fine bass section, to exquisite pianissimo levels, approached with masterful nuance. Bravi tutti!

After these three exceptional performances came the balance of the program, Carol Barnett’s The World Beloved: A Bluegrass Mass, for which the concert was given its title. Though the chorus Downtown Voices did not leave the stage, they were joined by several hundred more singers constituting the Distinguished Concerts Singers International, led by DCINY Guest Conductor Tucker Biddlecombe. These two hundred or so singers combined the forces of the GPS Singers, Dubuque Chorale, McCallie Men’s Chorus, Green Hope High School Voices Of Hope, Nashville Symphony Chorus, SMS Heritage Singers, Northport High School Tour Choir, and as always with DCINY “individual singers from across the globe.” As they quickly filed onto the Perelman stage, one could hear the discreet tunings of five bluegrass instrumentalists, Gabe Terraciano (fiddle), Jacob Joliff (mandolin), Charles Butler (banjo), Jerry Kimbrough (guitar), and Mimi Jones (bass).

As the composer Carol Barnett states herself, “To bring the solemnity of the classical choir-based mass together with the down home sparkle of bluegrass – now there’s an assignment for a composer!” Together with librettist Marisha Chamberlain, Ms. Barnett has done just about that. The work’s twelve sections, some in Latin as with the traditional mass, were woven expertly among more folklike movements of colloquial texts, and with the help of the five excellent bluegrass instrumentalists, there was music of intense syncopation, strong rhythms, and freewheeling fiddle licks. Maestro Biddlecombe was masterful in uniting the huge combined choir.

Though my colleagues have reviewed this mass for New York Concert Review starting over a decade ago, this was my first hearing, and I am happy to say that I thought it worked beautifully overall. From the opening Ballad, rather straight and sung with an unnamed soprano soloist, it kicked into high gear for the ensuing Kyrie with the help of bassist Mimi Jones. The whole bluegrass “band” (though not given a group name and presumable ad hoc freelancers) made a celebration of the fourth movement, Gloria, and it was a singular treat to hear for the very first time the “plenio sunt coeli” text sung in swing rhythm in the Sanctus. Other highlights included some expert mandolin playing in the Credo and the singing by several other unnamed soloists.

With of course no disrespect at all to bluegrass, the style sometimes (via banjo twanging and folksy rhythms) can evoke associations that run counter to the heft of a text, and that fact came to the fore primarily in the eighth movement where mention of the falling of towers and the voice of God seemed to cry out for more of what the composer herself calls “the solemnity of the classical choir-based mass” – and less of what she calls “the down home sparkle of bluegrass”  (a matter of timing). Though we know that the voice of God need not be a basso profundo (and in fact in the twelfth movement God is described as a She) – and we also know that the idea is meant to be of God coming down as a mere mortal – still, one craved the sense of omnipotence at the heart of more traditional masses. This reviewer found herself at times searching for it. Otherwise, the work as a whole came off as a remarkable achievement.

The audience gave a rousing ovation, undoubtedly for performers and composers alike – in addition to the various choral directors who also took a bow. As usual, DCINY is to be congratulated.

Yuwan Zhang, vocalist

Jeffrey Chappell, pianist

December 31, 2023

A link to the album “Move Forward Like the Seasons” wound up in my box for reviewing this holiday season, the first album for singer Yuwan Zhang, and it made for some lovely listening. In the collection are five standards billed as from the “American Songbook”: Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most, Summertime, Autumn Leaves, Blackberry Winter, and Fly Me to the Moon. Clearly, there is a seasonal theme at play, and we are told by Ms. Zhang in notes not provided to the public that it arose from four jazz ensemble concerts over four semesters at Goucher College, 2017-2019. She called the concerts “The Season Tour” and four years later, the piano-vocal version of these songs became her first album. As Ms. Zhang writes, “This album contains many seasons of mine … The reason for me to choose “Fly Me to the Moon” as the last piece is because I believe no matter how seasons go by, we always see the loved ones in our hearts.” She adds that the title of the album is from the lyrics of a song called Seasons written by her favorite singer-songwriter Greyson Chance, whose mother said, “We don’t grow up with years, but with the rotation of the seasons.”

Most music lovers will be familiar with several of these standards, such as Summertime (1934, by George Gershwin, with lyrics by Ira Gershwin and DuBose Heyward), Autumn Leaves (1946, by Joseph Kosma, lyrics by Johnny Mercer), and Fly Me to the Moon (1954, music and lyrics by Bart Howard). The two songs that may be slightly less familiar to many are Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most (1955, music by Tommy Wolf, lyrics by Fran Landesman) and Blackberry Winter (1976, music by Alec Wilder, lyrics by Loonis McGlohon).

These last two were highlights for this listener. Though there is a stunning Ella Fitzgerald rendition of Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most – and more recently Norah Jones and others – this listener hasn’t encountered it in concerts more than once or twice, so it was good to see it on this new recording by Ms. Zhang. She delivers the lines with persuasive pathos. As one heard in several other songs there was also a chance for a more up-tempo interlude by the pianist Jeffrey Chappell (who was also Ms. Zhang’s jazz performance teacher during her undergraduate years). A graduate of Curtis and Peabody, Mr. Chappell is currently Professor Emeritus at Goucher College, composer, journalist, recording artist on multiple labels, and a member of the award-winning jazz quartet, Otherworld. He and Ms. Zhang collaborate well, at least as heard here.

Blackberry Winter is another underappreciated gem. In fact, if one searches the title, one will find much information about the seasonal phenomenon of “Blackberry Winter” (the kind of mid-spring cold snap that inspired the song) before one even finds this song. Ms. Zhang’s rendition captures the song’s captivating wistfulness, and Mr. Chappell provides beautiful support.

Of the more familiar songs, Summertime was a surprise. To start with, it was miles from the slow steamy versions that bring to mind sweltering scenes of Catfish Row in Gershwin’s opera Porgy and Bess (from which the song comes). That was already a jolt, but then the Zhang-Chappell version took a new direction structurally as well, with a rhythmic keyboard bass in the introduction and an up-tempo middle section featuring walking bass and lively keyboard improvisation. This middle section made the return to the sultry opening all the more poignant, but it will be for some an acquired taste. Also, in terms of timbre, Ms. Zhang’s voice (a light mezzo) showed in this song more the breathiness of an ingénue than the world-weary heroine we expect from this historic opera.

Beyond these surprises, there was little attempt to simulate the regional dialect one usually hears in this song (no dropped G’s for example). Granted, there is room for reimagining such songs – even Janis Joplin did a version Gershwin would hardly have recognized (though even Janis Joplin dropped a lot of G’s!), but it may be tough for some diehard fans of this song’s tradition to hear it afresh. Among other surprises (and at the risk of seeming to advocate for cultural appropriation – a charge that has beset this opera and Gershwin in general in recent years), there is a regional spirit at the roots of this music, and the absence of that left this listener feeling that something was amiss at times. That said, undoubtedly new young listeners who are less steeped in the history of this opera may enjoy the ride.

The accompaniment of Summertime was again expertly done by Jeffrey Chappell. Frankly, the instrument he played on sounded more like an electronic keyboard than an acoustic piano, but as we were not informed of the details about the recording (no dates, places, or engineering credits named, not even composers in what I was sent), it’s anyone’s guess. Whatever the case was, he handled his part beautifully.

More of Mr. Chappell’s styling was enjoyed in Autumn Leaves. Here Ms. Zhang was also at her best, savoring the low register with the melancholy feeling that expresses the heart of this song. Just as in Summertime, Autumn Leaves enjoyed a “breakout” moment in a brisker tempo.

The extremely famous standard, Fly Me to the Moon, was a pleasant surprise. It opened with what was either another singer in duet with Ms. Zhang or it was overdubbed by Ms. Zhang herself. Again, we don’t know, but whatever the case may be, it was charming. At just around a minute and a quarter (much shorter than the usuals, including Sinatra et al.), it seemed to be over too soon.

Ms. Zhang has an appealing musicality and much flair. Hailing from Chengdu, China. she came to the United States in 2016 (graduating in 2020 with a bachelor’s degree in music and biology from Goucher College) and has already won some prizes and appeared at Carnegie Hall. She studied vocal music performance with Annie Gill and is currently in the Master of Fine Arts in Screen Scoring program at Columbia College, Chicago, studying with Michael Patterson and Kubilay Uner. With such wide-ranging skills in music, Ms. Zhang will surely make her mark through one or more of them. For now, you can catch her “on the rise” with this recording.

The Zhang-Chappell collection is being released on December 31^st on Soundcloud, Bandcamp, and NetEase Cloud Music, with other platforms to be announced.

Modus Operandi Orchestra, Justin Bischof, conductor

Chloé Kiffer, violin soloist

Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Center, New York, NY

November 30, 2023

This week an exciting concert took place as the Modus Operandi Orchestra (MOO) presented “Three Great

Romantics: An Evening of Brahms, Coleridge-Taylor, and Mendelssohn” at Merkin Hall.  In a program that included Mendelssohn’s Hebrides Overture and Brahms’s Symphony No. 1, there was already plenty of inducement to attend, but its rarest offering was the less well-known Violin Concerto by British-Sierra Leonean composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875-1912). The Modus Operandi Orchestra concerts have a history of interesting programming, and this was no exception.

The works themselves seemed simpatico sharing this program. Brahms himself famously admired Mendelssohn’s Hebrides Overture (also called “Fingal’s Cave”), and, though his Symphony No. 1 is of course completely different, both exude a feeling of spaciousness in their noble lines. The Hebrides Overture swept the listener up in its inspired waves of sound, setting the tone for the evening. Though the size of Merkin Hall places the listener so close to the “action” that the awareness of each detail sometimes hindered the ideal blend, the details themselves were quite polished. The Modus Operandi Orchestra is made up of fine players, many, we are told, from the Manhattan School of Music, of which the conductor is an alumnus. Together they captured the atmosphere of this evocative favorite. Occasionally the brass section was a bit overpowering for the space, but with the orchestra’s vibrant spirit, such reservations tend to diminish. Overall, Maestro Bischof showed that he has a clear conception of the music and the skill to make his conception a reality.

As for Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, whose music has been enjoying some rediscovery in recent years, he fit into this group of composers in several ways (aside from being counted among the “Great Romantics” as the program title states). For one thing, Coleridge-Taylor had stated his desire to incorporate folk elements into his writing somewhat as Brahms had done (along with Dvorak and Grieg), and he did so in a similarly stylized manner. Though Coleridge-Taylor was, as the program notes mentioned, sometimes called an “African Mahler” (and though others more aptly called him an “African Dvořák” due to this folk aspect), he can ultimately be appreciated for his own distinctive voice and compositional style, despite his having only lived to the age of 37. The Violin Concerto is a good example of that voice. Maestro Bischof announced that, since the concerto’s premiere in 1912 in New York, his research has turned up no other complete New York performances of it with orchestra until this concert, but one trusts that there will be more, as it is a worthy work.

For the concerto, the soloist was Chloé Kiffer, who has been championing the piece and had returned recently from playing it in Texas, we were told, shortly before this Merkin Hall performance. One needed only a few measures to see what an excellent violinist she is, and she delivered the work with virtuosity and a great deal of panache. It was an exciting evening for all of us who had never heard the entire piece live. Still, this listener was left afterwards trying to figure out what exactly it was that felt missing, and the word that kept coming to mind was “inevitability.” While it may be unfair to compare recorded performances with live, I must admit to becoming fond recently of a recorded performance of Tasmin Little playing the entire concerto with the BBC Philharmonic from 2015 – and perhaps still more partial recently to a performance of the first movement by Njioma Chinyere Grevious, with the Sphinx Symphony Orchestra. What these recorded performances have, to help persuade a listener of the piece’s worth, is a slightly greater level of abandon to some of the work’s idiosyncrasies. Samuel Coleridge-Taylor created a mercurial and rhapsodic work here, one with tempo changes and dynamic extremes every few moments, and surrendering oneself to the inner logic of these, almost as if improvising it oneself (as opposed to imposing logic from without) helps its structure to feel organic. That may require a bit more rehearsal time than the average orchestra has with their soloist, but it would probably be worth it.

After intermission, we heard a bracing rendition of Brahms’s Symphony No. 1, a piece that probably gets described as overplayed more often than it actually is played – from the paradoxical category of “works so overdone that they start to be ignored.” Kudos to the Modus Operandi Orchestra for programming it and for giving it such an energetic ride. The blend and balance were excellent, and what appealed to this listener especially were the many moments of expansiveness and warmth, achieved with no loss of precision. Standing out was the first movement, which had a cohesion that may relate to the fact that Maestro Bischof conducted it from memory. The last movement, with its famous C major theme in the Allegro non troppo, was conveyed with exalted spirit.

As the pursuit of the new and different dominates programming these days, it is good to see musical leaders who remember that there is a new generation coming up that may never have heard some of the core masterpieces of the classical canon. This Brahms deserves to be known by all (despite a prominent New York paper – to remain nameless – publishing the remark some years ago that there were “too many” Brahms Symphonies” one season – ingrates!). On this occasion, one couldn’t help noticing that there were some young children in the audience, a heartening sight. With Maestro Bischof’s penchant for delivering the classics with entertaining “relatable” banter, some dedicated children’s programs might be something to consider if they haven’t done some already.

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International,

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor

Penelope Shumate, Soprano; Holly Sorenson, Mezzo-Soprano

Chad Kranak, Tenor; Christopher Job, Bass-Baritone

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 26, 2023

You know it is officially the holiday season when Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) brings Handel’s Messiah to Carnegie Hall, and once again this year they magically transformed this reviewer’s post-Thanksgiving stupor into a readiness for carols, miracles, and all things Christmas. In case we needed a little extra magic, DCINY even had a Santa on hand, “working the crowd” before the concert. Though Handel’s music needs no such extras, many children could be heard requesting selfies with old Saint Nick in what may become a family tradition for many.

Several writers at New York Concert Review have reviewed this recurring gift to the New York concert scene over the years, so to avoid restating the same background information on history and differing versions, the reader can find more in this 2022 review: Mozart’s Messiah 2022. Though there have been variations in DCINY’s chosen versions (including those by Goossens and Mozart) and varying soloists and choruses (some returning and some new), the feeling of exhilaration seems as great or greater each year.

This year DCINY again chose (as in 2022) Mozart’s version, sung in English. They performed what are commonly called the “Christmas portions” of the three-part oratorio, those being the twenty-plus movements of Part I, plus the Hallelujah Chorus of Part II as its finale. Gone were some of the more somber sections including those dominated by the words “despised,” “broken,” and “grief,” for example – and in this time of sorrow, anger, and bitterness over world events, the more positive elements offered some much-needed brightness. Though performing just the “Christmas portions” sacrifices some beloved moments (such as from “All We Like Sheep,” “The Trumpet Shall Sound,” and more), it was a wise decision to keep the length manageable for an audience of all ages (particularly when there is no intermission). In a day of smartphones and short attention spans, it is worth winning audiences away from mere Internet listening towards a live experience that simply cannot be rivaled.

As the several hundred singers of Distinguished Concerts Singers International filed onto the stage one had to marvel at DCINY’s undertaking. The forces included choruses from Australia, Canada, Germany, the United Arab Emirates, the United Kingdom, and the United States, plus (as DCINY advertises) “individual singers from around the globe.” Combining such personnel could approach the challenge of herding cats, but given the well-prepared ensembles and the expert conducting of Jonathan Griffith the resulting performances were commendable. Only briefly in the imitative entries of the choral movement “For unto us a child is born” did the timing feel a tiny bit precarious.

It was also good to see the Distinguished Concerts Orchestra onstage again. The opening Overture found the orchestra favoring warmth and lyricism over stateliness. Though one is used to perhaps more crispness from them (especially in the lower strings), Maestro Griffith held the reins well.

The soloists were excellent, as usual. Tenor Chad Kranak, whom this listener had not heard before, stood out in “Comfort ye my people” for a sound that was full enough to soar over the orchestra but always warm and mellow. One especially admired how, even through the extended melismas of “Ev’ry valley shall be exalted” his pitch was always centered and true.

Bass-baritone Christopher Job delivered his formidable recitatives arias with the penetrating sound one recalls from prior performances, but some of his best lyricism came through in “But who may abide the day of his coming?” – and his lowest notes in “The people that walked in darkness” were especially impressive. In parts of these movements, one of Handel’s own more spare versions may have been easier for vocal soloists to cut through than this fuller Mozart instrumentation, but the singers managed to meet the demands.

Mezzo-soprano Holly Sorenson, whom one has admired in prior DCINY performances, brought her vibrant sound most notably to “Behold, a virgin shall conceive.” It is one of the untold challenges of oratorios that often a soloist will need to sit still onstage for half an hour or longer before uttering their first sounds, with any warm-ups they have done beforehand becoming a distant memory. Sometimes, because of this waiting, one can detect a hesitancy at the openings of such solos – but not here. Ms. Sorenson was strong, assured, and persuasive from the start. Similarly, there is a special place in Valhalla for any Messiah solo soprano, whose first recitative comes after sitting onstage for the better part of an hour. The soprano in this performance was Penelope Shumate who, when it was finally time to stand, delivered several outstanding performances, starting with “There were shepherds abiding in the field. ” Not surprisingly she gained in ease as she continued, and “He shall feed his flock” was both musically and physically expressive, settling into a joyous calm.

The irresistible movement for many, of course, is the famous Hallelujah Chorus, and it did not disappoint. The audience seemed to include some Messiah veterans, who immediately stood for it, honoring the tradition established by King George II in London in 1743. There is little that can approach the musical and spiritual jubilation of this moment, so one can only hope that each audience member carries that energy forward to share somehow with the very needful world.

As a critic wrote in 1742 at Messiah‘s Dublin premiere, “Words are wanting to express the exquisite delight that it afforded the crowded and admiring audience.” That crowd was 700 people – and this weekend, 281 years later, Carnegie Hall held the cheering of what was easily several times that number. My advice to audiences for next holiday season 2024: book your tickets to DCINY’s Messiah as soon as they are out – word spreads fast, and you might miss your chance!

Sihao He, Luiz Fernando Venturelli, Sydney Lee, and Haddon Kay, cellists

Merkin Hall, The Kaufmann Center, New York, NY

October 20, 2023

Some reviews are a joy to write, and this is one of them. Some ensembles “have it all” and the Galvin Cello Quartet is one of those, based on their New York Debut on October 20 at Merkin Hall. Despite the seeming sameness of four cellists as an ensemble, these four highly individual musicians, Sihao He, Haddon Kay, Luiz Fernando Venturelli, and Sydney Lee (the only female), showed what a surprising range of sound and repertoire is possible for this combination, especially when each member is also an experienced soloist boasting an impressive array of prizes and distinctions, as is the case here. Their vibrancy is enriched by their diverse cultural backgrounds (China, Brazil, South Korea, and the United States), and at the same time, they exude the warmth of their common bond as students of Hans Jørgen Jensen at the Bienen School of Music, Northwestern University. In fact, their name “Galvin” is from the Mary B. Galvin Recital Hall at that school.

Presented as part of a series called “Musicians on the Rise” by the Kaufman Center and Concert Artists Guild, whose competition they won in 2022, the Galvin Quartet members are most definitely on the rise, though one senses that if they stayed exactly where there are right now, they would be just fine with that – such is their infectious positive energy. Their mission to share the love of music is palpable and irresistible, a quality the classical music world needs sorely. Though this reviewer has come away from the finest recitals thinking, “I wish there were a larger audience to hear them,” the Galvin Quartet recital has gone a step further leaving one thinking, “They’re going to create that larger audience.” Attractive, personable, and passionate, they are a manager’s dream.

The evening opened with a short video about the quartet, not something true music lovers expect or need, but perhaps a sign of things to come in this social media world. The quartet was shown preparing for a recording session, posing for photos, making dinner together, and generally enjoying their obvious camaraderie. (For full disclosure, I was unable to attend this recital in person, so was given unedited footage of the entire event).

Directly after that video, the quartet launched into the final Presto of Vivaldi’s “Summer” from The Four Seasons. It was a fresh, riveting arrangement in which one never missed the original instrumentation. The cellists exchanged furioso passages with crisp precision and an edge-of-the-seat excitement. Though the Vivaldi is quite familiar, it is certainly not familiar in this cello quartet arrangement, as Sihao He noted. Joking about the rarity and quirks of cello quartets (including the unusual need for eight flight tickets to travel), Mr. He was determined to put the audience at ease, saying “Be comfortable and please don’t behave” – and “Let’s have some fun tonight.” In explaining why the group plays mostly without music stands (unusual for a quartet of strings), he stated that the group likes for there to be no barriers between them and the audience, opting for closeness, a preference we could already sense.

If all of this “fun” had one wondering whether these players might be all levity with little substance, the next work set that record straight. Wagner’s Feierliches Stück (ending with strains of the famous Wedding March) was given an intensely stirring performance. Each cellist played with refined lyricism, and the group blended magnificently.

Rotating roles and microphones, Sydney Lee spoke next, to introduce Rossini’s piece Une Larme (“A Tear”), originally for cello and piano, but heard here in an arrangement that divvied up the melodies. She asked Haddon Kay to play the descending “tear” motif so the audience could look out for it – a helpful suggestion that bodes well for the group’s work in schools and outreach. Despite this sad motif, the piece built to quite a lather, with bouncing bows and cadenzas abounding in pyrotechnics.

Mr. Venturelli, Ms. Lee, and Mr. He shared in the announcement of the next work, the world premiere of a piece called Cadence by Zhou Tian. Commissioned in partnership with Concert Artists Guild, it represents part of the quartet’s effort to expand the repertoire for this particular instrumentation while exploring diverse cultural backgrounds that connect with theirs. Exciting and colorful, it brought out the oneness of sound that this quartet can achieve, whether playing in harmony or in rapid alternation, while also exploring a wide range of sonorities. From lyrical moments to more dazzling perpetual motion sections, the piece and the performers were captivating.

Haddon Kay introduced the next work, Leyendas: An Andean Walkabout, by Gabriela Lena Frank. He spoke about cultural connections shared with the composer’s heritage (Chinese, American, and South American) and gave eloquent descriptions of each of its six movements, Toyos, Tarqueda, Hymno de Zampoñas, Chasqui, Canto de Velorio, and Coqueteos. All that he described sprang to life in the group’s playing – the evocations of panpipes, “smoky” landscapes, guitars, and more.

Mr. Venturelli then announced the ensemble’s arrangement of Three Preludes by Gershwin. We’ve all heard countless arrangements of these gems, and for good reason. This one, very free in the playing and in the arrangement itself, can certainly hold its head up among the rest. The program was capped off with Piazzolla’s La Muerte Del Angel, given a driving energy that galvanized (or shall we say “Galvin-ized”) the audience into a rousing standing ovation. Some very gracious thanks from Ms. Lee to all those involved in the concert followed, capped off with an encore of David Popper’s Elfentanz, at near record-breaking speed.

Congratulations go out to all involved in this quartet’s exciting debut, not least of all to Concert Artists Guild for choosing them!

Regina Shenderovich, piano

The National Opera Center – OPERA America, New York, NY

November 3, 2023

In one of those miracles to which New Yorkers are privy if they pay attention, gifted Russian-American pianist Regina Shenderovich came to the National Opera Center this Friday to play the complete Book II of J. S. Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier – in other words, the last 24 of the Bach 48 Preludes and Fugues. It was extraordinary. This reviewer had heard Ms. Shenderovich last in 2018 in a live performance of Bach’s Art of the Fugue, another unusual undertaking (reviewed here: Regina Shenderovich), and it was a pleasure to be present for this continued traversal of the great master’s work. 

For those wishing to know the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, arguably the greatest composer who ever lived, one could hardly do better than Books I and II of his Well-Tempered Clavier (48 Preludes and Fugues, two in each key, major and minor). It is a feast for the ears, mind, and heart. Complete sets of recordings have been made by some of the greatest musicians (including pianists Gould, Richter, Tureck, Gulda, Demus, Schiff, Nikolayeva, Hewitt, and Barenboim, and harpsichordists Leonhardt, Kirkpatrick, Landowska, and Gilbert, for a start), but there is perennially room for more. Despite the greatness of these works, not many pianists (or harpsichordists) take on even a single complete book of them in live concert. Undoubtedly this rarity is largely because of the demands on the performer for what approaches a 130-minute marathon (not including intermission), but it also may be out of concern for today’s audiences. Even the staunchest concertgoers (let alone the hyper-stimulated Auto-Tune crowd) may prefer to savor a couple of Preludes and Fugues at a time from a favorite recording at home, rather than sitting bolt upright in a concert hall through hours of cerebrally taxing music, no matter how magnificent. That said, it is an unforgettable experience to witness the performance of an entire volume in an evening, and Ms. Shenderovich gave us that rare opportunity to hear the set played exceptionally well. 

Technically, she displayed superb control. There was hardly a finger slip in the entire evening, and those that occurred were negligible, like the rare absent tone tending to coincide with a rough page turn. (Ideally, if one is performing these with a score, today’s technology could make that page-turning aspect seamless.)

In matters of tempo and dynamics, Ms. Shenderovich showed an uncanny sense of what works best for nearly every piece and was able to highlight each individual voice throughout, through the most challenging stretti and dense counterpoint. For this listener, fortunate enough to have a score on hand, everything on the page was matched aurally with a lucidity that brought back inspirational graduate seminars in Bach. 

From the very first notes of the opening Prelude and Fugue in C Major (No. 1), we knew we were in good hands. From the regal feeling in the Prelude to the crisp mordents in the Fugue, all felt just right. Repeats were never “rubber-stamped” but were refreshed, in the C-minor Prelude (No. 2) through varied voicing, in the heraldic D-major Prelude (No. 5) through phrasing, and in the D-sharp minor Prelude (No. 8) through altered articulation, including some skillful overholding to bring out a previously underplayed alto line. 

Other particularly good articulations were in the D-minor Fugue (No. 6, with a delightful lift before subsequent tied notes) and the G-minor Prelude (No. 15) with its nearly double-dotted crispness à la French Overture and masterfully fleet four-voice fugue to follow. The D-sharp minor Fugue (No. 8) stood out for the dynamic shaping of its subject, which can easily sound obnoxious if played as equal hammer blows (as sometimes happens). The time taken at the end of this one also felt appropriate. 

There seemed no formula for ritardandi (or anything else) in this set, with a number of pieces ending somewhat abruptly and others winding down gently, but clearly much thought went into each one. (Occasionally this listener wanted more winding down.)

In terms of flow, Ms. Shenderovich showed remarkable ability overall. In the Prelude in E Major (No. 9), she managed to mark phrases with artful breathing, while keeping a sense of pulse, a virtue not as common as one might hope. This pulse felt slightly less regular in the G-major Prelude (No. 15, in which the left hand seemed a tad slower on entry than the right hand), and also at times in the B-major Fugue (No. 23), but in general, it felt just right. One marveled in the F-sharp minor (No. 14) which managed to be slow enough to let us assimilate all the harmonic implications but never so slow that it dragged – perfect. 

The C-sharp major Prelude (No. 3) was special for its transparency under its beautifully held top notes, and its staccatissimo Fugue subject was a joy to follow. One was reminded that when Bach compiled the first book of the Well-Tempered Clavier in 1722 (with the second to be compiled in 1742) he wrote that the set was “for the profit and use of musical youth desirous of learning, and especially for the pastime of those already skilled in this study.” Those who perform these pieces are in a sense teachers, who must strike the balance between revealing Bach’s imagination and exercising their own. Ms. Shenderovich proved herself to be just such a teacher. 

In terms of emotional projection, favorites were the Preludes in F major (No. 11), which felt peacefully improvisatory, the F-sharp major (No. 13), given a wonderfully light touch, and the freely expressive F-sharp minor (No. 14). 

Sections that reflected less distinction were in the C-sharp minor pair (No. 4) and E-major Fugue (No. 9), which seemed just a bit less engaging. Beyond those, I had interpretive reservations about the E-flat Prelude and Fugue (No. 7). Though the Prelude had a gracious feeling about it, there could have been more sensitivity at times (such as at its meaningful return to the opening), and its corresponding Fugue seemed to ask for more tenderness as well. This Fugue was a favorite of Mozart’s, one guesses for its lyricism – so much so that he chose to arrange it for string quartet. Once one has heard that, one can hardly help feeling inclined towards a less crisp, less detached approach to its inherent lyricism. There also might have been more tender expansiveness in the G-sharp minor Fugue (No. 18 – a double fugue), where one sensed a harder edge and the drive to move things along, as well as in the F-minor Prelude and Fugue (No. 12) which closed the first half; any reservations, however, should be taken in light of the enormous admiration that this undertaking inspired. Some of these pieces are massively complex – such as the F sharp-minor (No. 14), with its triple fugue. Such feats were handled with awe-inspiring ease. 

Ms. Shenderovich has much to say in these works, and people should have been lined up for a block to hear her play them at this free concert. The small audience was certainly no reflection on her, but merely a shame for those absent. Her late grandmother, Olga Tsfasman, to whom the concert was dedicated, would surely have been proud. 

I strongly recommend that Ms. Shenderovich record all of these, one by one, at her leisure – and with Book I – to reach an ever wider audience.

Junwen Liang, piano

Saint Thomas Church, New York, NY

October 22, 2023

This Sunday afternoon at Saint Thomas Church, this reviewer had the pleasure to hear, as part of their Sunday Recital Series, young pianist Junwen Liang. It was a brief recital, around forty-five minutes, but it communicated a lot in a very short time and had enough substance and variety – technically, emotionally, and stylistically – to confirm that this is an extremely gifted and promising young artist.

Mr. Liang opened with Mozart’s Sonata in C Major, K. 330, one of this reviewer’s favorites. It is not always easy to start with Mozart, especially in a highly reverberant church, so when one opens by playing Mozart as beautifully as what we heard, it speaks volumes. Mr. Liang’s playing had clarity, technical polish, and thoughtful attention to phrasing and articulation. It is easy to rush in one’s opening work but Mr. Liang’s approach was refreshingly calm and unhurried. There was one point in the last movement where there may have been a bit too much of a dramatic pause (before the return of the main theme), but all in all, with so much rushing in performances today such savoring is welcome.

This reviewer’s belief, after decades of playing and hearing concerts, is that when the music truly comes first, nerves are much more easily mastered. Mr. Liang puts the music first. Part of how he plunged so immediately into the music and brought it to life so well seemed to be related to his grasp of the operatic elements that lay within it, and these lie within all of Mozart’s Sonatas, in this listener’s opinion. The drama must be so completely engrossing that there is no room to think of oneself or any other distraction. One could hear in Mr. Liang’s interpretation the questions, answers, dialogues, and characters of an opera, all fitting together with beautiful logic. Phrases were allowed to breathe where they needed to – another vocal element – and, as with speech and song, there was always shape and inflection. Critics occasionally will mistake such expressive playing for “Romanticizing” (and this reviewer’s own concerts have received that allegation), but there is really nothing specifically Romantic about shaping phrases and projecting drama, especially when it all adheres so faithfully to the beat, as it did here. It was over in a flash (to the point where there was some regret that not all repeats were taken).

It is tempting to put some of this Mozartean finesse at the doorstep of Mr. Liang’s current teacher, the masterful Richard Goode, the only teacher listed in his printed bio; seeing his slew of degrees, however, this reviewer was curious to learn more and discovered that Mr. Liang has had a wide array of teachers, including also the extraordinary Edward Auer who has been reviewed by New York Concert Review as well. Beyond this, Mr. Liang clearly has his own natural artistry.

It must have been some relief when after Mozart the program moved to Debussy’s Images, Book II. As beautiful as the Steinway is in this church, its big sound along with the reverberant acoustics must have required extreme effort to tame for the Mozart. The reverberation if anything seemed to enhance the musical textures of Debussy. Cloches à travers les feuilles was beautiful and full of shimmering colors. At one point, this listener thought it could have been even more magical, and that was where the piece seems to “open up” (where the meter and key change), and one becomes aware not so much of bells and leaves but of the human spirit’s reaction to them. One wants more reveling here. All in all, though, this was an admirable performance. Et la Lune descend sur le temple qui fut was similarly successful – evocative and ponderous. Occasionally it seemed there might have been still more patience in holding long notes fully, but that can relate to one’s pulse and conception. Poissons d’or was full of silky pianism and sparkle. This listener only wanted a bit more of a sense of play in some parts. Where marked capricieux et souple, for example, Debussy so incredibly evokes the swish and splash of a tail in the water – some goldfish have personality! Anyway, with time and repeat performances, this sense of play will probably increase – and such matters are quite personal.

The program hit its high point with Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 12. Mr. Liang seems simply made for this work, and it could become a “signature” piece. He knew just where to get the right declamatory feeling at the opening and elsewhere, and he moved on to brilliant fingerwork with not so much as a smudge or flub anywhere. Where there are cimbalom effects, he achieved dazzling speed with perfect clarity, and where there are quasi campanelle effects he created sonic magic. What was striking too was that there was never the showboating one sometimes finds with this repertoire, but exclusive focus on the myriad sounds. Bravo! As a postscript, speaking of not showboating, there actually could have been a bit more time in the Adagio breather a few bars before the close – mere mortals take advantage of it as a respite after herculean effort, so it feels somehow raced if not a bit broadened. Wow, if these are the biggest criticisms one can produce, Mr. Liang is in good shape.

The last work on the program was a delightful jazzy discovery, the Rondo for Piano (2001) by Catherine Likhuta (b.1981), serving almost a built-in encore. Based on an ostinato vaguely reminiscent of the Vince Guaraldi “Peanuts” theme – though more brilliant – it was lots of fun.