Fourth Olympic Challenge Competition in Review

Fourth Olympic Challenge Competition
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, N.Y.
February 10, 2013
 

The title “Olympic Challenge Competition” may seem to suggest athletics rather than the more subjective field of music, but the name does suit the heroic efforts showcased recently in a concert of its young winners, ages 5-18, presented by the “You Need Music” Educational and Performing Enterprise. Offering a great incentive to practice and a much-needed chance to perform, “You Need Music” has been growing, according to the director, to draw students from all over the country. As the presenter’s website itself states, ”’You Need Music’ offers the unique opportunity to play at Carnegie Hall for children who put their effort in learning music without a goal to become professionals, but for the sheer love of performing.” Whether or not on a professional track, the twenty-five soloists on violin, cello, and piano (selected from DVD screening and live audition) had clearly invested tremendous energy and discipline to reach levels that were in some instances of a professional quality. Several players, as one would expect for the age range, experienced struggles with technique, focus, intonation, and other matters, but the level was generally high and in all cases was promising. Their concert at Weill Hall, as well as being a “victory lap” of sorts, was to further select three top winners to continue to a February 24th recital at Merkin Hall, with monetary prizes. As it turned out there were two Special Mentions (without monetary prizes) as well. I would have added several more, or exchanged one or two, but such is the nature of competitions. Having adjudicated for four hours for a different organization on the same day, I came to this event with many contest-related issues already in mind.

First of all, this audience at Weill Hall was not told the individual ages of performers, though one could hazard some guesses (and there were no college students allowed). It was also not clear whether the three judges were privy to age information, and one was uncertain whether awards were being made based on current development or potential for later success. Knowing numeric ages can be prejudicial – as in the psychologically misleading single-digit 9 versus double-digit 10 (with perhaps a birthdate difference of only a few months), making one child seem comparatively precocious; there can be equal misjudgments, though, on a visual premise, for instance assumptions based on height. The ideal solution may be a single artistic standard, but how is that really possible within a 13-year age range? One hopes for true discernment, but the cited Olympian “criteria” from the contest’s website, comparing musical qualities to attributes of Zeus, Poseidon, and Athena, seemed not to be terribly relevant or helpful in this case. It may add to the administrative work, but I would recommend a few separate age categories. It would also make possible eliminations more palatable for the older players.

Among these more mature players, William Hume, pianist, would have been one of my choices as a winner. He delivered Kapustin’s very difficult Concert Etude Op. 40, No. 1, with the fluency and ease of a veteran performer. He could certainly have a musical profession in his future, so I was disappointed that he was not chosen for something. Also among the teenagers, Mika Lin, violinist, gave an account of Bach’s Sonata No. 1 (Adagio and Presto) that was commendable for a pre-college-aged student. Pianist Orcin Akman handled the challenges of Liszt’s “Gnomenreigen” with such spirit and clarity that I had her in mind for the top winner, while pianist Deniz Akman savored and explored every ounce of drama in his rendition of Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C# minor.

Several players were outstanding among the (seemingly) much younger set, including pianist William Chen, performing Liszt’s La Leggierezza, and violinist Matthew Ho, taking on the challenging Praeludium and Allegro of Kreisler. Also impressive were very young pianists Joy Xu (the first I’ve ever beheld playing Debussy’s Dr. Gradus ad Parnassum with the aid of a pedal extender meant for the tiniest players), Annie Gu, who opened fearlessly with Chopin’s Polonaise in G minor, and Dylan Wang, highly self-assured for one so young in Bach’s Concerto in A Major, BWV 1055. Amid the concert’s torrent of notes, young pianist Darina Korneeva played a relatively simple Sarabande (by a composer listed as “Lak”) with genuine tenderness of feeling. One has years to learn octaves and scales, but this little one saw that no note was wasted.

In the end, the First Prize went to William Chen and the Second to Orcin Akman, both mentioned above. Third Prize went to Eugenia Zhang, a violinist who had bravely tackled Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole (first movement). Special mention went to Deniz Akman and Joseph Maldjian, the latter who had played Shostakovich’s “Hurdy-Gurdy” from “Dances of the Dolls.”

Judges were Ilya Kazanstev (piano), Aisha Dossumova (violin), and Slava Znatchenii (oboe). It was a refreshing touch to have them precede the children’s recital with performances of their own, setting a high bar. Opening was the Solo de Concert for oboe of Émile Paladilhe, followed by Kupkovic’s Souvenir for violin (think Vaudeville meets Paganini). Both works were admirably accompanied by Dmitri Korneev at the piano. Closing the jurors’ performances was Mr. Kazantsev (whom I reviewed favorably about five years ago), tossing off the Kreisler-Rachmaninoff Liebesfreud beautifully.

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

Jean Muller in Review

Jean Muller, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, N.Y.
January 18, 2013
 
Jean Muller, pianist

Jean Muller

Following the 2012 release of a well-received all-Chopin recording on the Fondamenta label, Luxembourgian pianist Jean Muller kicked off a world tour with largely the same repertoire in a fine recital at New York’s Weill Hall. It is not easy to offer fresh perspectives on the pillars of the Chopin piano literature, particularly after the composer’s bicentennial blitz of 2010, but Mr. Muller appears oblivious to any need to be different (or the same, for that matter); it is enough to be oneself, as Mr. Muller appears to know. These days, the slow burn of being a sincere, dedicated musician is almost revolutionary in its own right.

His program’s first half was made up of the complete Ballades. His were nuanced, at times understated, renditions of these musical treasures. With so many cranked up performances going around of what one could almost call “McBallades” at this point, this listener was relieved to discover that there was nothing formulaic or facile about Muller’s interpretations. Starting the G Minor Ballade (Op. 23) with a more pensive, deliberate first theme than one usually hears, Muller brought it a searching quality, as if encountering its mysteries for the first time. It was highly individual, without being distorted or eccentric. He played with a fluent, natural sense of rubato. Occasionally there were tonal balance issues exacerbated by a somewhat thin treble sound, but in each case one sensed that decisions had been made to favor overall dynamic pacing over individual cantabile lines. Indeed, the pacing toward climaxes was achieved skillfully, with refreshing attention to the work’s inherent logic and integrity. Technical hurdles were handled neatly without virtuoso excess – though perhaps with a bit too much caution for this listener.

The second Ballade (Op. 38) was similar in its strengths. Thoughtfully paced and with no exaggeration or bombast, it reflected the refined poetry of the work. Because the piece alternates quiet lyricism with tempests, this listener wished in turbulent sections for greater unleashing of this pianist’s full resources (as heard later on the program), but it seemed that Muller was holding his energies in reserve. Perhaps when performing all four Ballades, this is inevitable. The brilliant and dramatic coda was negotiated neatly, but with a bit more abandon it could have truly caught fire.

The third Ballade (Op. 47) was a highlight, not surprisingly, as it benefited from this pianist’s thoughtful, civilized approach. The famous rocking theme (or some say “cantering”) was especially winsome, and Muller built the ensuing drama well. Similarly the final Ballade (Op. 52), arguably the most challenging of the group to hold together, was unified with mastery. The chorale-like lull just before the ferocious coda was done perhaps more beautifully than I’ve ever heard – it’s prayerfulness stemming not merely from the perils ahead, as with some performances!

The second half included shorter works, framed by two Polonaises, the F-sharp minor, Op. 44 and the A-flat, Op. 53. Highlights were the poignant Mazurka in A minor Op. 17, No. 4 and the Waltz in A-flat Major, Op. 69, No. 1, both expertly phrased, the latter with especially golden-toned melodic beauty. The old chestnut Waltz in D-flat (Op. 64, No. 1, the “Minute Waltz”) had just the right élan, and the Posthumous Largo in E-flat Major added novelty to the otherwise widely known offerings. Also heard were the Mazurkas in A minor, op. 67, No. 4, and in C Major, Op. 68, No. 1, both handled with polish and sensitivity. Happily the final “Heroic” Polonaise found the pianist letting go more, though still with expert control as he released torrents of left-hand octaves with riveting evenness. It was worth the wait.  Rousing ovations elicited encores of Chopin’s B-flat minor Nocturne and Fantaisie-Impromptu.

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

Rutgers’ Mason Gross School of the Arts: Claude Debussy 150th Anniversary Year in Review

Rutgers’ Mason Gross School of the Arts: Claude Debussy 150th Anniversary Year
Complete Piano Preludes
Min Kwon, Director
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, N.Y.
December 19, 2012
 
Min Kwon, Director; Photo Credit : Doug Boyd

Min Kwon, Director; Photo Credit : Doug Boyd

 

Marking the 150th anniversary of the birth of Debussy (1862-1918), the year 2012 has seen many concerts with various tributes to Debussy’s music and a smaller number that were all-Debussy programs. The latter type of concert has been a dicey proposition in general, with the monomania leaving this music lover with intense cravings for Beethoven, Shostakovich, and others. It was therefore an exhilarating surprise to discover that a recital of both books of Debussy Preludes (24 in all) turned out to be one of my favorite concert experiences in memory, thanks to Rutgers’ Mason Gross School of the Arts and the inspired direction of Ms. Min Kwon. Their all-Debussy concert at Weill Hall was – dare we use this word? – perfection.

Keys to the concert’s success were several. While a single-player recital can risk becoming too much of one musical personality, Mason Gross presented seventeen young artists of different ages and backgrounds, all from the Rutgers piano program, each player miraculously matched to his particular Prelude(s). One wonders how the assignment of music to each player was accomplished, but there seems to have been a musical equivalent to Central Casting involved; all that variety, however, was in service to Debussy’s art. All players were well taught, well prepared, and completely immersed in the elements of Debussy that they represented.

Another inspiration was the avoidance of fanfare and applause; what could have become a noisy marathon, with entries and exits of 17 players, became seamless and unified. Though the diverse performers’ biographies were those of opera coach, competition firebrand, and Music Education student, the players followed one another quietly and as equal participants in the masterpiece. The element of ego or comparison was entirely missing, and a listener could focus, undistracted, on the multi-faceted marvel that is Debussy. In lieu of applause, host and raconteur Jerome Lowenthal offered elegant and informative introductions to each work, complete with a sprinkling of humor and verse. Weill Hall became an intimate French gallery, with Mr. Lowenthal as docent and the musical art streaming on and off the stage.

All players deserve mention, so what follows is necessarily a hasty blur, and not always sequential. Zin Bang brought restrained sensuality to the Danseuses de Delphe and appropriate delicacy to Voiles. Robert Grohman conjured the mystery of Le vent dans la plaine admirably, and in Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir he brought his listeners into the realm of synesthesia. Soo Yeon Cho followed with a sprightly account of Les collines d’Anacapri, highlighting an aspect of Debussy worlds away from the heavier Baudelairian fragrances. The beautiful hush of snow was created next by Marilia Caputo in Des pas sur la neige, setting up contrast perfectly for Diyi Tang, who projected great drama in Ce qu’a vu le vent d’ouest. Mr. Tang also closed the program with Feux d’artifice, another tour de force well suited to his brilliant style.

On the lighter, gentler side were La fille aux cheveux de lin played with perfect innocence by Sohee Kwon, La sérénade interrompue, given humor and color by Salvatore Mallimo, and La danse de Puck both dreaming and impish in Rebecca Choi’s hands (which later in the evening brought life to the siren Ondine). Minstrels was as quixotic as could be in the reading of Dae Hyung Ahn, who also gave a fine performance of Les fées sont d’exquises danseuses on the second half. Bringing gravity to the first half was the formidable musical imagery of La cathédrale engloutie, conveyed beautifully by Erikson Rojas through his own sonic world.

The second half seemed to fly by, even with some of the dreamier, more cryptic Préludes. Azusa Hokugo’s readings of Brouillards and Feuilles Mortes were polished and sensitive, as were Junko Ichikawa’s La Terrasse des audiences du clair de lune, Hyewon Kate Lim’s Bruyères, and Grace Shin’s Canope, with its evocations of an ancient world. Erikson Rojas again shone in La puerta del vino, as did Kelly Yu-Chieh Lin in Les tierces alternées, less evocative due to its focus on a single interval, but brilliant nonetheless.  Some levity broke up the dreaming with General Lavine -eccentric played jauntily by Sojung Lee and Hommage à S. Pickwick, Esq., P.P.M.P.C., well realized by Eunsil Kim.  

All in all, it was an extraordinary musical project, unique, in fact. Such an evening might be imitated on the basis of the abovementioned format, but without Mr. Lowenthal and this particular chemistry of performers, it simply will not be replicated. If you missed it, all I can say is, “c’est dommage!”

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

Ivan Ženatý, violin, and James Vaughan, piano in Review

Ivan Ženatý, violin, and James Vaughan, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
December 3, 2012
 
Ivan Ženatý, violin Photo: Tomáš Lébr

Ivan Ženatý, violin; Photo: Tomáš Lébr

When excellent Czech violinist Ivan Ženatý strides onstage with his pianist James Vaughan, one is in for an evening of artistry, probably whatever the program; presented by Mid-America Productions in an all-Czech program in Weill Hall, the duo brought their audience twofold pleasure. Underappreciated works by Antonin Dvořák, Leoš Janáček, and Bedřich Smetana are rarely combined as an entire recital here in the U.S., but if they were, it is unlikely that they would be performed as well. Mr. Ženatý, veteran performer claiming a large array of prizes, recordings, and collaborations, was recently appointed to the faculty of the Cleveland Institute of Music, having taught also at the Hochschule für Musik Carl Maria von Weber in Dresden. He is a performer who clearly endows each note with a world of experience, though with apparent ease, and it is heartening to know that a performer of such musical integrity will be transmitting some of his artistry to the next generation.

Polished and elegant from music to stage presence, the duo filled their first half of the program with all Dvořák (1841-1904).  The composer’s Romantic Pieces for violin and piano, Op. 75, B. 150 (1886-87), first composed for two violins and viola (with movements originally entitled Cavatina, Capriccio, Romance, and Elegy), were heard in the composer’s own violin-piano arrangement. Mr. Ženatý projected his phrases with a mellow, cantabile violin sound on a 1740 Giuseppe Guarneri del Jesu violin (courtesy of the Harmony Foundation of New York). A feeling of gemütlichkeit permeated the intimate Weill Hall – somewhat in keeping with Dvorak’s own home readings of these pieces. At first the balance seemed an issue, and the piano (with the lid on the full stick) seemed a bit overwhelming, but in a very brief time the duo melded perfectly, and this listener was glad for the clarity in each detail of what was a true collaboration. Mr. Vaughan particularly impressed with his flexibility in adjusting his feather-light repeated notes  – in this piano’s rich middle register, no less – to each nuance of the violin.  He was outstanding in the most difficult dovetailing. Ženatý ramped up the energy for the quixotic second movement, and the third, wonderfully Schubertian with its gentle lyricism, was a dream. The duo conveyed the mournful spirit of the fourth movement with haunting beauty, and one could feel the audience sighing collectively afterwards.

Dvořák’s Sonata in F Major for violin and piano, Op. 57, moved the recital into more involved and weighty writing. It brought more challenges of all kinds, and they were handled well, with only occasional glitches in intonation. Mr. Ženatý and Mr. Vaughan brought out the Brahmsian breadth and nobility of this work, challenging the program notes’ assertion that, unlike Beethoven, Brahms, and others, this Sonata “has neither architectural grandeur nor higher unity in its contrasting ideas.” On a side note, one wonders whether such a comment is the best way to maximize the listeners’ experience as good program notes can do! The performers, on the other hand, advocated for the piece with each lovingly shaped phrase, and this listener would enjoy hearing them do it again.

After intermission came the Sonata for violin and piano JW VII/7 by Leoš Janáček (1854-1928), a work using folk elements in a dark, at times violent way. Just as the programming reflected a broad range of Czech musical style, this duo’s expressive range was explored to the fullest. While neither performer resorted to demonstrative excess, there was plenty of drama in the sound itself. The first movement captured the wrestling intensity of the jagged, even spasmodic motives. It was an impassioned performance, as this piece demands, reflecting the troubled times of Europe in 1914. The second movement, Ballada, found the duo by contrast on a journey at times nostalgic and at times desperately longing. Long, melodic lines were soulfully shaped, to heartbreaking effect in Ženatý’s hands. In the third movement, the sounds of war were evoked in brutal and strident accented blows, which Ženatý and Vaughan played to the hilt; as Janacek himself wrote, “I could just about hear sound of the steel clashing in my troubled head.” The final quiet utterances of the fourth movement left the audience again suspended in silence.

A comforting close came with Bedřich Smetana’s “Z domoviny” (“From My Homeland”) benefiting from more of Ženatý’s golden-toned phrases and Vaughan’s expert support. It built to a brilliant and spirited close capping off a richly satisfying evening. Prolonged applause was rewarded with Dvořák ‘s Mazurek in E minor as an encore.

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

Kyung-Hye Baek in Review

 Kyung-Hye Baek, piano
Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York
October 15, 2012 
 
Kyung-Hye Baek

Kyung-Hye Baek

 

If musical career-building were analogous to cooking, Kyung-Hye Baek might be said to have “the recipe.” Among the sought-after ingredients these days – conservatory studies (a doctorate from Peabody), the requisite recital and orchestral performances (various appearances in Korea, the U.S., and Europe), a sprinkling of competition prizes (the Daegu Music Association and others), and the cherry on top of a Weill Hall New York debut – all of these are now counted among her credits. Throw in an elegant stage presence, and the table might seem to be set; what remains to be seen, however, is the extent of her musical passion and where it will take her and her audiences.

The musical menu on Ms. Baek’s recent Weill Hall recital, while varied, consisted of mainstays of the piano repertoire: two Scarlatti Sonatas (the perennially popular B Minor K. 27 and D minor, K. 141), Haydn’s buoyant Sonata in G Major, Hob. XVI: 40, Beethoven’s stormy Sonata Op. 57 (the “Appassionata”), a set of lyrical Schubert-Liszt songs, and Prokofiev’s thorny Sonata No. 6. On paper, this seemed a program of huge range, as one is accustomed to large differences of sound and approach from one style to the next, but the end result in Ms. Baek’s hands was somewhat more homogeneous than one expected, with all works characterized by a similar glossy polish. Each piece was played with secure memory, reliable fingers, and a sound that was never strident. At climaxes, Ms. Baek did use the bass resonance of the hall’s Steinway to good advantage (if sometimes overwhelming the treble in the Scarlatti and Beethoven), but one could have enjoyed a larger dynamic range.

Among some high points were some excellent repeated notes, as heard in the Scarlatti D Minor Sonata, aka the “Toccata,” and also in the Haydn. Ms. Baek never overdid the Haydn’s inherent humor, but let the structural “punch lines” speak for themselves.  One wanted more contrast at times, but the Presto was full of drive and momentum, if occasionally a bit too hectic for this listener.

Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata was performed rather conservatively, missing some of its usual fire, but in terms of neatness and care, it lacked for little. One sometimes wonders whether proliferating doctoral piano programs might not be prolonging the sort of “defensive playing” that stems from extra years of jury exams and evaluations, shielding young players from the excitement of “going for broke” before live audiences. At any rate, if one is offering chiefly mainstream repertoire, there is additional reason to try to bring it a new dimension interpretively. These new dimensions may come with time and freedom from academic boundaries. Meanwhile, the pianist has a more than solid grounding and tremendous untapped potential.

Ms. Baek showed fine discipline in the voicing of her Schubert-Liszt, playing Ständchen, Gretchen am Spinnrade, Aufenthalt, and Auf dem Wasser zu singen, and these were also highlights.  She showed a good deal of patience and maturity in her weaving of melodic lines and created a lovely silken sound. One wonders whether there might be Schubert Sonatas and chamber music in Ms. Baek’s future, judging by the lyricism in which she seems so at home.

The evening closed with the first of Prokofiev’s “War Sonatas” -given a refined performance – too refined, in fact, for this listener’s taste. An angry and craggy piece, it usually evokes more in the way of outbursts, but Ms. Baek stressed its cerebral aspects. Though this listener wanted more, the work did close with strength. Warm applause elicited an encore of “October” from “The Seasons” by Tchaikovsky.

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

New York Concert Artists Associates: Rising Artists Evening II in Review

New York Concert Artists Associates: Rising Artists Evening II
Jayoung Hong, piano; Jiaxin Tian, piano; Mariko Miyazaki, piano; Kazuo Kanemaki, conductor
Good Shepherd-Faith Presbyterian Church
June 2, 2012

What could be a better way to spend an evening than to hear – after Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings (Waltz) – four accomplished pianists playing four favorites of the piano concerto literature? Two concerti by Mozart (K. 466 and K. 503, followed by Schumann’s A Minor Concerto and Mendelssohn’s G Minor Concerto, made for a jam-packed evening. One couldn’t help thinking that such an evening should be required listening for young New York music students. Here are four pieces (K503 perhaps less so) that young players frequently attempt, though the playing requires the mastery of veterans, and the venue offers good vantage points from which to compare and study the different pianists’ approaches. It is also not every day that one hears so many piano concerti in a row played with such considerable polish.

The programming was a dream, starting with pianist Jayoung Hong playing Mozart’s glorious Piano Concerto No. 25 in C Major, K.503. A relatively large work from an extremely fertile period in Mozart’s composing, it requires a grasp of large structure as well as sensitivity to its wealth of surprises – along with complete technical control, of course. Jayoung Hong played it with seeming ease and, except for one minor mishap attributable to ensemble distractions, delivered a fine performance. If one could sum up in a word one of the loveliest qualities in her performance it might be seamlessness. She demonstrated a fluidity that carried her effortlessly from section to section, harmony to harmony, without a note of hesitancy or roughness. On the other hand it was this very quality that left me wanting more delineation. One sometimes wanted more rhythmic differentiation (for example between triplet-eighths and sixteenths, even in the opening main theme) and later, in the flurry of third movement passagework one wanted more demarcation at points of melodic return. There are several schools of thought on this, but all in all, Ms. Hong played with a grace that suits Mozart’s style. She seemed truly to enjoy the music most by the third movement. Occasionally there was some sketchiness in the strings, and the winds were sometimes overpowering (especially where marked pianissimo at the Andante’s close), but conductor Kazuo Kanemaki held things together well.

Going in reverse chronology, Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20 in D Minor K.466, came next, with Jiaxin Tian as soloist. While I am not a fan of “listening with one’s eyes” it was hard not to notice this pianist’s musical responses transporting her even during the opening tutti, before she played a note. This oneness with the orchestra and the music is a gift and pervaded her playing. Certainly she had all the technical nuts and bolts in order, but what brought her playing to a higher level was her unwavering passion and commitment to the work. Yet again, though, at times an asset can be a drawback, and I occasionally thought the piano should be less “one” with the orchestra and more soloistic. Particularly in the first movement’s opening theme, which could stand being more full-bodied, the melody was a bit wan at the peaks. The consistently receding tops of melodies had me wondering whether perhaps there might have been a pinky injury – but this pianist seemed quite purposeful in her performance. She lacked for nothing in the dramatic crescendo passages, and that “oneness” came in handy in some beautifully Beethovenian sweeps where she meshed perfectly with the orchestra. This concerto is often thought of as one of the most Beethovenian of Mozart’s works, and it is not surprising that Beethoven left cadenzas for it (one which she performed in the first movement). Her nicely ornamented Romanza led to an extremely fast final movement, which brought the audience to its feet.

In a change from the printed program Jin Kyung Park played Schumann’s Piano Concerto in A Minor right after intermission, instead of last, as programmed, but this reviewer is not assigned to review that performance. The program closed with Mariko Miyazaki playing Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in G Minor. If some imagined this work to be too lightweight to conclude a concerto program (especially after Schumann’s A Minor masterpiece), a surprise was in store. Ms. Miyazaki played this oft-maligned work with fresh intensity and extreme brilliance. Bold and assured, she took the reins, leading the orchestra with ultra-clear downbeats and clean and precise pianism. Curmudgeons have often criticized this work for lacking depth or substance (a viewpoint I don’t happen to share), but Ms. Miyazaki treated it as a great work, and it repaid her. Even naysayers would have to concede that the sheer beauty of the piano writing, when perfectly executed, is a thrill akin to looking at a multitude of glistening chandeliers – call that a guilty pleasure, pianistically speaking. Ms. Miyazaki’s nearly flawless rendition was a pleasure indeed. She stormed and sparkled, and with equal poise and artistry projected the piece’s soulful slow movement. The final movement was a romp that concluded the program on a definite high, and again the audience was brought to its feet.

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

New York Concert Artists and Associates Winners Evening: Evenings of Piano Concerti in Review

 New York Concert Artists and Associates Winners Evening: Evenings of Piano Concerti
Wael Farouk, piano; Alexei Tartakovski, piano; Vince Lee, conductor, NYCA Orchestra
Good Shepherd-Faith Presbyterian Church, New York, N.Y.
May 19, 2012

 

Anyone looking only to the larger musical venues of New York is missing out on some once-in-a-lifetime concerts at the “little church behind Juilliard.”  The Good Shepherd Church, which has held many exciting concerts over the years, is in its fourth year now as home to NYCA’s Evenings of Piano Concerti, which introduces concerto soloists, stars of the future, to adventurous audiences. Their May 19 concert was not to be forgotten.

Most memorable on this occasion was the performance of Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto by Egyptian pianist Wael Farouk. The term “star of the future” is not quite apt here, as Mr. Farouk is something of a star already, with a career that has included innumerable concerto appearances, including the Egyptian premieres of Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 3, Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2, and Prokofiev Concertos Nos. 1, 2, and 3. Imagining Egyptian audiences hearing the Rachmaninoff 3rd Piano Concerto for the first time is exciting indeed, but those who heard Mr. Farouk play it in New York may feel they heard it for the first time as well.

Contrasting with the many hulking pianists who treat this piece as an Olympic hurdle (yawn), Mr. Farouk simply lived and breathed the music with the poetry of a born artist. Incidentally, this pianist is not of hulking build, and anyone brainwashed by the “size matters” crowd might have expected a less-than-powerful performance; they would have been proven wrong (as they might have, if Josef Hoffman, the great but diminutive dedicatee, had given the piece a chance!). Mr. Farouk’s technique is unquestionably great, despite apparently small hands, though this listener didn’t think of the word “technique” once during the entire performance (rare for this piece). The performance lacked nothing, but the way Mr. Farouk sailed through the piece, as if daydreaming out loud, made masses of notes seem merely incidental. That is how it should be, but only when one hears it does one realize how rare it is. Soulful melodic inflection, growling outbursts, coruscating passagework, and powerful peaks all combined with the unity of a master to bring the piece the unique life it deserves. Mr. Farouk also seemed to inspire the orchestra to glorious new heights, not by brute force, but by force of musical spirit. I am now officially a fan of this extraordinary musician.

Coming down to earth for a few moments, one should mention that some of the tempi were faster than one is accustomed to hearing, particularly in the last movement, where just a bit of “holding the reins” can make for more dramatic surges; it was so exciting, nonetheless, that one hesitates to suggest even the slightest tweaking. Conductor Vince Lee was a skillful and sympathetic collaborator throughout.

Prior to intermission, the audience was treated to Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto played by Alexei Tartakovski, and Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Minor, played by Yoonie Han. This reviewer is assigned to discuss the Beethoven but would be remiss in not mentioning Ms. Han’s excellent performance.

Alexei Tartakovski, Winner of the 2011 Rising Artists Concerto Presentation, has won several other awards as well and has fine credentials for one in his early twenties (his bio stating that he was born in 1989). He has performed in numerous cities in the US, Russia, Canada, Holland, Greece, and England, and is currently completing his Master of Music degree at the Peabody Institute. One competition jury member called him “a monumental talent” and another a “first-rate player.” Not surprisingly for one in the throes of a young competitor’s life, he offered a committed and solid performance of Beethoven’s Op. 58, one of the masterpieces of Beethoven’s Middle Period and a pillar of the piano repertoire in general. Mr. Tartakovski had the formidable challenge of starting the concert with this work’s contemplative opening – positioned on the program where one might find a light overture – but he was up to that challenge. He achieved a sense of spaciousness amid the settling of the audience and orchestra and delivered the music as a thoughtful and serious musician. Unassuming in demeanor, he also appeared to approach the work as chamber music, a goal which was not quite possible on this occasion (as undoubtedly there was limited rehearsal time). Unfazed by various ensemble glitches, Mr. Tartakovski showed intense concentration and resilience – qualities he will need in a busy performing career.

Tempo-wise, things were again a shade faster than I like. The last movement especially verged towards a light early classical romp rather than to a meaningful release from the preceding Andante’s depths. It nevertheless posed little challenge for Mr. Tartakovski, and he handled the movement comfortably and delivered its tricky trills with clarity and alacrity.

The task of a reviewer is presumably to review what one has heard and not what one could imagine given a different instrument or situation, but I can’t resist commenting that I would like to hear Mr. Tartakovski on a piano with a less strident treble for this work. While the instrument’s top register had cut through nicely for the previously heard Rachmaninoff (buffered by the rich underlying and surrounding harmonies), the leaner textures of the Beethoven left harsh upper octaves exposed, so one needs a mellower sounding instrument for it. Undoubtedly there will be future chances to hear this pianist, as he surely has many successes ahead of him.

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

Georgy Tchaidze, Pianist in Review

Georgy Tchaidze, piano,
Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall
April 27, 2012
 

Canada’s Honens International Piano Competition, held every three years, offers the largest prize of any piano competition ($100,000 CAN and a half-million-dollar three-year career development award) to “the Complete Artist” – characterized as “a sensitive musician, a consummate collaborator, an awe-inspiring virtuoso, a communicator, a dreamer, an explorer.” The 2012 Competition has yet to select a winner, but meanwhile New York listeners had a chance to witness the Honens ideal at work through Russian pianist Georgy Tchaidze, presented in New York as the 2009 Prize Laureate. Still in his young twenties, he looks onstage to be almost too young to have had already three years of high-voltage career grooming; on the other hand, when he plays, he demonstrates such mature and highly honed artistry that it is hard to imagine that he is not a concert veteran of several decades.

His individuality was evident immediately in his program, which, aside from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition to close, was not typical Russian virtuoso fare. Four Fairy Tales of Medtner (“Skazki”), Op. 34, opened the program. Medtner is still underperformed in concerts, despite growing numbers of recordings, so these were welcome choices. The Fairy Tales are deceptively demanding, but Mr. Tchaidze proved he possesses the refined technique and abundant imagination to bring these pieces new and resplendent life. His phrasing had a wonderful elasticity always, from where it sang out in exposed opening octaves in No. 1 (“The Magic Violin”) to where it dovetailed in No. 2 with intricate left hand accompaniments. In addition, especially in No. 3, “Wood Spirit (but a kind and plaintive one),” there was an expressive physicality in Mr. Tchaidze’s approach which conveyed involvement every second, inspiring the listener to feel and breathe with him. This is not to say that he is in the category of highly demonstrative performers including, say, Lang Lang, but that he becomes physically one with each work’s spirit. “The Poor Knight” (No. 4) showed the pianist as storyteller and was as superb as the rest of the set.

Underplayed repertoire can be the last refuge for mediocre performers billed as pioneers, so excellent interpreters such as Mr. Tchaidze are much needed.  Prokofiev’s Sonata No. 4, Op. 29, is another of the relatively ignored works of a great master. Understandably, other Prokofiev Sonatas have had broader appeal for pianists, but No. 4, with its alternation of the cryptic and the despondent, has remained a tougher “nut to crack.” Mr. Tchaidze gave a masterful, highly nuanced performance of this work, dedicated to Prokofiev’s deceased friend Maximilian Schmidthof, who had committed suicide a few years earlier. In the sublime moments of its second movement especially, the pianist showed a deep and genuine feeling for the composition. On such moments can rest an entire work sometimes, and Mr. Tchaidze’s interpretation should support much more widespread appreciation of the piece.

The concert also included vocal music with Mr. Tchaidze as collaborator – whether from the pianist’s personal artistic preference or in support of the Honens Competition’s professed ideal of the “Complete Artist” (evidenced by the competition’s art song and chamber music requirements). Six Romances, Op. 38, of Rachmaninoff were given dramatic, projective performances by world-class singer Dina Kuznetsova, with Mr. Tchaidze providing an excellent pianistic backdrop for the lyricism of these gems. The offering was a refreshing change of pace in the middle of a piano recital, a throwback, in a way, to salon days, in which there was “something for everyone.” Perhaps the “21st century artist for 21st century audiences” that the Honens competition seeks has more in common than expected with the artists of yesterday, and perhaps what audiences really want is simply something great. While there was no evidence of a “claque” at the recital, there were coos and quiet little gasps of admiration throughout. Tchaidze may very well become a musician’s musician.

Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition concluded the evening with a standard of the Russian virtuoso repertoire – though played with plenty of surprises.  There were, in fact, transitional moments in this set that had me feeling that I had never heard them before. Whether or not one agreed with each decision (e.g. an unsettlingly fast initial Promenade and an unusually slow Gnomus), there was not in Mr. Tchaidze’s playing a fallow, unexplored moment. Where a lesser artist might have relaxed a bit on the merits of this composition itself or on such a glistening technique as this pianist has, Mr. Tchaidze was rigorously thoughtful and intelligent in all his responses. He brought the evening to an exciting close with “The Great Gate at Kiev” and followed with sensitive renderings of Liadov’s “Musical Snuffbox” and Scriabin’s Feuillet d’Album Op. 45. I’ll look forward to his next performance!

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

Haobing Zhu, Pianist in Review

 Michigan State Collegiate Honors Recital, Featuring Five Winners
In Review: Haobing Zhu, pianist
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
April 14, 2012

As winners of the Michigan State University Collegiate Honors Recital Competition held in East Lansing, Michigan in February, five soloists were presented in a New York group recital under the sponsorship of Manhattan Concert Productions. The winners included Charles Morris, bass trombone; Bryan Guarnuccio, flute; Jennifer Cook, soprano; Dmitry Yanov-Yanovskiy, cello, and the subject of this review, pianist Haobing Zhu. They were selected by a jury of three, including Ralph Votapek, professor emeritus of piano at MSU (perhaps more commonly noted as the first Van Cliburn Competition Gold Medalist); Stephen Shipps, violinist, and Craig Arnold (the director of Manhattan Concert Productions). A varied repertoire, including Puccini, Dvorak, Gillingham, Berg, Liebermann, and Piazzolla, was heard before the pianist ever set foot onstage to close the recital with Haydn and Liszt, so one could only empathize with her for the challenge ahead.

On the subject of such group recitals, I am reminded of the insightful comments of my colleague Alexandra Eames, writing for New York Concert Review a few months ago: “This is an awkward and nerve-wracking experience; one waits in the wings unsure of when he will have to step onstage and face the specter of inevitable comparison. To relax and find one’s stride in just one or two pieces is extremely difficult and the performer must go through the same physical preparations (dressing for performance, arriving on time, trying the instrument, etc.) as he would for a full-length recital.  Often the most sensitive artists can be sabotaged by the endeavor, whereas the more arrogant temperaments barrel through their nerves.” For Haobing Zhu, the comparison aspect was minimized by the fact that she was the only solo pianist (though creditable pianist collaborators included Hyekyung Lee, Hsin-Chan Yang, Tzu-Yi Chang, and Natalia A. Tokar); nothing, however, diminished the challenge of taking the audience back in time to the sonic and stylistic world of Haydn after Piazzolla and Berg, and then rallying her energies to close the concert with a blast of Liszt virtuosity. Ms. Zhu was up to the task.

With seeming nerves of steel, matched by a lovely stage presence, she approached Haydn’s Sonata in E Major (Hob. XVI: 31) with a beautifully clear sound and precise articulations. There was not a trace of rushing, and all was elegantly controlled. This is a work that, compared with other Haydn Sonatas, has seemed to attract pianists of a virtuosic bent, as it especially invites a crisp and detached Horowitzian touch, has a brilliant last movement, and is over in a flash. In a way it was a wise choice for not taxing excessively the already satiated audience. Ms. Zhu maximized its brilliance and combined her technical polish with singing phrases, which showed a tasteful degree of liberty. Her second movement (incidentally a movement that never sounds Allegretto, tending more towards Adagio) was generously stretched with expressive phrasing. The final Presto was flawless and sparkling.

Liszt’s transcription of the Waltz from Gounod’s Faust (s.407) followed. Perhaps I need a disclaimer here that, having performed this very piece on the same piano and stage just six months ago, I must set aside some preconceptions and preferences. A good performance usually can overcome those – and Ms. Zhu’s largely did.  She launched into it zealously and with extreme speed, bringing out the diabolical element even in the opening “villagers’ dance,” which one often hears in a slightly slower pesante tempo than the one she took. She had just the right fearless approach for such a showpiece, and the excitement never lagged. At times I was surprised by the extremely generous pedal, which—combined with the flurry of octaves and the piano’s resonant bass—overwhelmed some details; assuming, though, that the depicted village merriment involves a bit of debauchery and drink, some drowning in pedal could arguably be considered to be in keeping with the spirit. A bit of messiness is par for the course in this work as well, but Ms. Zhu kept things well in hand. It really was astonishing considering the abovementioned challenges of this recital format.

If one were to make any suggestions, they would be that the lyrical central sections be more operatic, with long-breathed singing lines, and that the dance parts be a bit more danceable and a bit less rushed. To put things another way, one could want more singer and dancer, but there was plenty of pianist. Ms. Zhu is a pianist through and through, and she should have a bright future.

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

Evelina Puzaite, Pianist in Review

 Evelina Puzaite, Pianist in Review
Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall
April 1, 2012
 
Evelina Puzaite

Evelina Puzaite

Evelina Puzaite is a young Lithuanian-born pianist currently based in London and winner of various distinctions and prizes including the Rubinstein Piano Competition in Paris (First Prize). She has recorded for Landor Records in the UK and has performed widely in recital, chamber music, and with orchestra; she is not, however a run-of-the-mill contest pianist. Her biography lists that she is also a published composer (and winner of the Grodno composition contest) as well as a writer of short stories (having had her first book published in 2008). It is always exciting to see this sort of multi-faceted artist – bringing to mind Lera Auerbach and an elite group of others – as that extra dimension can lead to memorable performances.

Ms. Puzaite’s New York Debut was indeed memorable, and the interesting programming was a large part of it. Aside from Rachmaninoff, Prokofiev, and Liszt, much of her program consisted of rarely heard works. She opened with Three Preludes by Ciurlionis (1875-1911), the Lithuanian painter and composer, and it was a refreshing adventure off the beaten path. The first Prelude, while reminiscent of Scriabin, showed an original voice, while the second one, sharply rhythmic and dissonant, reflected more folk influence. Perhaps most interesting was the third, of dreamlike shifting harmonies and timbres, very sensitively rendered by Ms. Puzaite.

Moving to better-known repertoire, the pianist gave an excellent account of Rachmaninoff’s “Six Moments Musicaux”, Op. 16. The first of these gems, the soulful B-flat Minor Andantino, had much to offer in this pianist’s hands, including some delicate voicing and finely woven filigree. One loved the freedom in Ms. Puzaite’s playing, though occasionally the license seemed a bit much, obscuring some distinctive changes in meter; through generous bending, a 7/4 measure sounded like 8/4, and a 5/4 bar sounded like 6/4, basically squaring off Rachmaninoff’s beautiful irregularities. Such liberties enhanced other pieces in the set, though, and the Allegretto in E-flat minor shimmered; Puzaite played in the original version, not the 1940 revision, which I actually prefer, but I enjoyed it. The Andante Cantabile in B Minor had breathed pathos, while never losing melodic direction as it easily can; some dynamic liberties were again well planned to help add focus and shape to the musical meditation, and some creative articulations heightened the conception. The fourth piece, the Presto in E Minor was brilliant, using to maximum effect the resonant Weill Hall Steinway, and the fifth, Adagio Sostenuto in D-flat Major, was lovingly shaped and expressed (though one wanted perhaps less bass here). The final Maestoso was a tad underplayed, explaining perhaps why Ms. Puzaite chose not end the first half with it as one might expect; it seemed she was trying more for lyricism and judicious pacing, but one missed some of the heroic feeling.

A quiet breather came next with “White Scenery” from the piano cycle “The Seasons” by Latvian composer Peteris Vasks (b.1946). It is a mesmerizing and moving work, with minimalist elements, gentle chord clusters, liberal pedal, and a doleful long-breathed melody suggesting infinite absence. The Prokofiev Toccata rallied the energies back for the most virtuosic playing of the evening. It was a clean, sterling performance, with plenty of power, suggesting that any holding back in earlier works was probably perfectly intentional.

Ms. Puzaite introduced her own Piano Sonata in C Major (1999) to open the second half. Judging by the year of composition, this compact sonata must have been an extremely youthful endeavor, but it reveals a musician of tremendous versatility and pianism. A circus-like profusion of sounds emerged, from repeated fifths and motoric syncopations to music box effects and flirtatious slides (think Bartok and Rebikoff dancing to Carmen’s Habanera). It is always a joy to hear a pianist play his own work, and this was a refreshing novelty.

Liszt’s “La Leggierezza” and “Un Sospiro” were a break to Romanticism before Kodály’s “Dances of Marosszek” closed the evening. The Kodály is an exciting work, better known as an orchestral piece than in its original piano scoring. I’d previously preferred the second version, but with the enormous contrast and energy that Ms. Puzaite gave, it possibly surpassed the color of a typical orchestral performance! It was a rousing close to a scintillating evening. Rhythmic applause was acknowledged with an encore of the Bach-Siloti Prelude in B Minor.

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