Ian Hobson, piano

The Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

October 20, 2023

It is always a privilege to hear the great pianist Ian Hobson, whose repertoire in concerts and discographies could be that of ten pianists, and his complete Schumann cycle at the Tenri Institute has only reinforced one’s admiration. Avoiding mere chronological box-checking, his traversal was organized into themed programs, lending focus and insight to aspects of Schumann’s output. Mr. Hobson’s April program, for example, was called “Love and Nature” (Humoreske, Op. 20, Nachtstücke, Op. 23, and the Drei Romanzen, Op. 28 – to see that review, click here: Love and Nature), and his September program just three weeks ago was called “Variations” (reviewed by Jeffrey Williams here: Variations). This Friday, October 20th, we saw the continuation of the series with a concert entitled “Marches and Etudes” and there were revelatory moments.

This week’s “Marches and Etudes” program consisted of Schumann’s Vier Märsche, Op. 76, Six Etudes after Paganini, Op. 3, Six Concert Etudes after Paganini, Op. 10, and the Toccata Op. 7. Incidentally, when one hears of a Schumann program with etudes, the Etudes Symphoniques, Op. 13 probably will spring to mind, but those had already been included in September under the heading of “Variations” where they fit as well. So, except for the very famous Toccata and the more mature Op. 76 that opened the program, this program was left with some of the least performed works of Schumann’s output, twelve etudes based on Paganini Caprices, with half of them arguably not intended for performance. It takes a brave pianist to take on such a program, but who better than Ian Hobson?

Mr. Hobson strolled out calmly to greet his ample audience at Tenri and the tone felt immediately casual, like that of a university seminar. One could easily forget the huge renown that has surrounded him ever since his young prizewinning days. One could also forget the mammoth task ahead.

He described the opening work, the Vier Märsche, Op. 76, as coming after roughly a decade of little solo piano writing for Schumann (the 1840s being filled with songs, chamber music, and orchestral works). Dating from 1849, the Op. 76 was Schumann’s response to the May Uprising of Dresden that year. As Mr. Hobson lit into the very first Märsche, one could feel the stirrings of that uprising as well as the exuberance of Schumann’s return to piano writing in a “white heat of passion” (Schumann’s own words). The boldness and heroism of Florestan were present, along with a remarkable elegance in this pianist’s hands. The second Märsch in G minor followed with power and urgency, as well as sensitivity in its gentle E-flat middle section.

The third Märsche, subtitled Lager-Scene (“Camp Scene”) possesses many of Schumann’s mercurial qualities in harmony and phrasing, and it could easily give way to self-indulgence, but the cohesion here was solid. The playing reflected what one might call an orchestral overview – and that is not surprising, given Mr. Hobson’s very busy second career as a conductor. The fourth Märsch closed the set with a grandeur that underscored its noticeable references to La Marseillaise.

Moving on to the Six Etudes after Paganini, Op. 3 (1832), this listener felt ambivalent at first. As the program notes by Richard Dyer state, Schumann “evidently intended Op. 3 for study and educational purposes only.” They could conveniently have been excised from the cycle on that basis. Furthermore, technically, we want perfection from such pianistic hurdling, though there is little that any performer in a live concert can do to match the several flawless renditions available on recordings, most likely from studios with unlimited editing capacity. What’s more, musically, they are not truly representative of Schumann, for as the composer writes, “I copied the original more or less note for note, perhaps to its disadvantage, only expanding its harmonic scope.” That said, Mr. Hobson had them well in hand, and completeness won the day. Did one occasionally wish all had not been straitjacketed into the cycle plan, and that we could hear only some artfully chosen favorites of the pianist to let his gifts shine at their best? Yes.

Highlights of Op. 3 included the first two etudes with well-known Liszt counterparts. In the first by Schumann, we heard the opening A minor scales and arpeggios of Paganini’s A minor Caprice (No. 5) actually proceeding to the rest of that same Paganini Caprice; oddly, this fidelity was a jolt, because pianists are used to the Liszt-Paganini Etude, No. 1 (composed a good six years later) with the very same opening (transposed to G minor) introducing a tacked-on version of Paganini’s Caprice, No. 6. This “un-hearing” of Liszt took us back in time, bringing us closer to Schumann’s world shortly after hearing Paganini himself in concert.

A less dramatic surprise was felt hearing Op. 3’s second Etude (after Paganini’s Caprice No. 9 – La Chasse, or “The Hunt”), after being accustomed to Liszt’s Paganini Etude No. 5 based on the same Caprice. Here, it was a special joy to hear Schumann’s version, with help from Mr. Hobson’s gentle and graceful interpretation. Equally lyrical was the third (Andante), which Mr. Hobson played with a singing tone and inevitability of phrasing. The fourth was played with all the rhythmic mischief it invites, and the fifth was a romp. The sixth and final Etude of Op. 3 was played with stormy brilliance, reminding one of the Op. 13, then yet to be written. All in all, Mr. Hobson made a case for these neglected pieces.

The Etudes, Op. 10 (1833) followed intermission. One was starting to wonder how anyone could undertake this program, but there were no signs of flagging. Using music for much of it may have removed the stress on one’s memory, but it is nevertheless unwieldy music to tackle. The first of Op. 10 was artfully shaped, such that one almost forgot about its technical difficulties. The second brought to mind again the contrast with Liszt’s eerie G-minor tremolos (from Paganini’s Caprice No. 6), here replaced partly with repeated chords over an inspired, independent left-hand part. Surprisingly, just a year after his Op. 3, Schumann was growing in some ways freer with Paganini than Liszt would be. There is little question about which composer’s Paganini Etudes were  – and are – more popular, but Mr. Hobson made it apparent that even transcribing somewhat laborious exercises, Schumann was a poet.

Mr. Hobson proceeded to No. 3 making it sound easy overall. Despite rapid alternation of octaves and trills – requiring lumberjack and ballet dancer – Mr. Hobson was up to it all. Aside from tiny glitches here and there, it was an epic undertaking, amazingly handled – all “chased down” with Schumann’s diabolically difficult Toccata Op. 7 (1829-32). Few pianists can play the latter well, but it says a lot that its heroic themes echoed in this listener’s mind long after the concert.

It takes a special kind of heroism to rummage through neglected corners of a composer’s output. First, the pianist must devote increased effort to “selling” or beautifying what has been neglected (sometimes for good reason). After that, such a performer is very seldom lauded or thanked as champions of “new music” are. Why? Well, because it is Schumann, and we all know Schumann – or do we? Surely Ian Hobson is content to explore without looking for accolades, but let me at least offer mine, with gratitude.

Music of Elliott Carter, Louis Karchin, and Tyson David

Da Capo Chamber Players: Curtis Macomber, violin; 

Chris Gross, cello: Marianne Gythfeldt clarinet   Steven Beck piano

Guest artists: Catherine Boyack, flute (Patricia Spencer is on leave 2023-24); 

John Ferrari, percussion; James Baker, conductor

The Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

October 15, 2023

In a Tenri Cultural Institute concert billed as celebrating “innovation by three generations of American composers,” the Da Capo Chamber Players continued what they have done exceptionally well for decades: the thoughtful curation and expert performance of new music. Here they featured just one composer from each of the three generations, and the three were Elliott Carter (1908-2012), Louis Karchin (b. 1951), and Tyson Davis (b. 2000). 

The first half of the concert offered a sampling of all three composers, starting with Between Light and Shadow by Tyson Davis, now in his first year of the M.M. program at the Juilliard School (but who was just seventeen when the piece was written in 2018). Between Light and Shadow was scored for Pierrot ensemble (exactly what the Da Capo nucleus is) plus percussion – handled expertly here by John Ferrari. The work was inspired by The Twilight Zone television series and consists of four movements named from individual episodes (Third from the Sun, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet, Mirror Image, and The Arrival). The absence of pretense in basing a substantial work on a television program “had me at hello” as the saying goes, but it was the skillful and evocative writing that sealed the deal. The music was powerful, direct, and individual. Mr. Davis is no mere “star of the moment” (despite being booked with commissions through 2025) but is a genuine voice of great promise in the composition world. As Mr. Davis mentioned later in the panel discussion, he is not a synesthete, but he feels strong links between the visual and tonal worlds; in retrospect, it may have been this quality, plus his technique for projecting it, that gave this work such immediate appeal. 

In strong contrast came the program’s second work, Con leggerezza pensosa (1990), by Elliott Carter, who combined a long and productive composing life with the teaching of several generations of composers at Juilliard and elsewhere. 

Con leggerezza pensosa was commissioned by Dr. Rafaelle Pozzi in homage to the Italian author Italo Calvino, and its title suggests Calvino’s notion of “thoughtful lightness” as distinct from the “lightness of frivolity” (“In fact,” Calvino continues, “thoughtful lightness can make frivolity seem dull and heavy.”)  With thoughts of this elusive distinction never far, the work was given an engrossing performance by Marianne Gythfeldt (clarinet), Curtis Macomber (violin), and Chris Gross (cello) – with the author’s case resting most pithily in the final disappearing clarinet gesture, with faint pizzicati.

The third and last piece of the half was a work composed for the Da Capo Chamber Players, Incantations and Dances (2023) by Louis Karchin, currently a Professor of Music at New York University, among his many distinctions. It was a joy, after the cryptic complexity of the Carter piece, to hear a work that, for all its brilliance and sophistication, was immediately accessible, with clearly discernible dance references (the characteristics of a minuet, a hoedown, and pavane, for example). There was not a dull moment, and the Da Capo ensemble with percussionist John Ferrari achieved split-second timing under the leadership of conductor James Baker. Pianist Steven Beck was remarkable here and throughout the evening for his almost surgical precision. One could hardly imagine finding a better performance of this work. It was another feather in the cap of Da Capo to feature this very worthy, though perhaps underrepresented, composer.

After intermission, Mr. Karchin and Mr. Davis were joined by Elliott Carter scholar John Link and conductor James Baker in a panel discussion, and the rest of the program was music by Elliott Carter, with performances of his Enchanted Preludes (1988), and Triple Duo (1982-3). Not surprisingly the panel discussion touched on the influence on the two composers present of Elliott Carter, the senior member of the evening’s triumvirate – and there would have been enough material there to justify calling the entire evening a Carter-fest if Mr. Karchin and Mr. Davis had not offered such engagingly individual works of their own. There were recollections about Carter’s personality, about the composers’ first exposures to his music, and about his overall influence (regardless of whether it affected this evening’s works specifically). There seemed some consensus about Carter’s de-emphasis of downbeats, his music’s overall fluidity (which Mr. Davis noted especially), and the interest in metric modulation. There was in addition the mention of his every note possessing character, a quality which the superb Da Capo players brought out extremely well. The discussion became particularly fascinating in response to the question of how each composer composes – whether from an initial extra-musical idea, from small to large, large to small, from a desired proportion, or creating a figurative “scaffolding” – but sadly a report of these details goes beyond the scope of this review. The interested reader must simply attend the next Da Capo event. 

Carter’s Enchanted Preludes (1988) found flutist Catherine Boyack and cellist Chris Gross in an outstanding pairing, colored with wonderful flutter-tongue sounds from Ms. Boyack and compelling colors from Mr. Gross. 

The only work that was difficult to enjoy, despite its virtuosic performance, was Carter’s Triple Duple, which closed the program. Once again the acoustics of the Tenri Institute made the volume and tone quality in higher registers actually painful. Certainly there were all the tonal colors and individual articulations that give Carter’s music its “flavors” – but in this case (extending a food-music comparison started in the panel discussion) one’s musical “taste buds” had been obliterated by the musical equivalent of a pepper topping the Scoville scale. One kept trying to savor it, thinking “If only I could really taste this.” There were of course many moments for savoring between these strident sounds, but it was hard to unclench after them.

This listener will still eagerly await the next Da Capo concerts, and for more information, the reader can visit: Da Capo Chamber Players

Kariné Poghosyan, pianist; Jason Tramm, conductor; 

The MidAtlantic Philharmonic Orchestra

St. Vartan Armenian Cathedral, New York, NY

September 20, 2023

It was a joy this week to accept an assignment to review an evening of concerti for several reasons – one being the piano soloist Kariné Poghosyan, whom I had reviewed favorably for New York Concert Review in 2009 (at the much-missed Steinway Hall on 57th Street) and whose passionate playing has since attracted admirers globally. Another enticement was the program itself, honoring composer anniversaries of Sergei Rachmaninoff (150th) and Aram Khachaturian (120th). The conductor Jason Tramm was yet another draw, having impressed on several occasions as an orchestral Pied Piper – and this would be your reviewer’s first time hearing him lead a group called the MidAtlantic Philharmonic Orchestra. Not least of all, this concert offered the chance to explore a magnificent building, the St. Vartan Armenian Cathedral, which dominates an entire block of Second Avenue at 34th Street.

It is important to state right away that this occasion was no ordinary concert. Not only was the event marking the 32nd Anniversary of Armenian Independence, but it happened to take place the day after particularly severe losses to the Armenian community from attacks on the disputed Artsakh region, a tragedy so devastating that the organizers had considered canceling the concert in the wake of it all, according to the Very Rev. Fr. Mesrop Parsamyan in his introductory words; music won, however, as the unifying and healing force that it is, and we learned later that all concert proceeds would go to affected families in Artsakh.

Even the most curmudgeonly critic would want to avoid the usual dissection of performances under these circumstances, as the collective grief of the Armenian community seems to overshadow all else. What becomes paramount at such times is the spirit, and there was plenty of that. 

Especially spirited was the Khachaturian Piano Concerto in D-flat major, given a fiery and athletic ride by Ms. Poghosyan. This was the part of the program that one would stash away in one’s memory. Though the work has an impressive discography of champions including Moura Lympany, William Kapell, Alicia de Larrocha, Marc-André Hamelin, and a few dozen others, Ms. Poghosyan’s performance here had a unique vibrancy – partly of course because it was live and partly because of the occasion. Her own Armenian heritage embraced Khachaturian’s in a performance of fierce energy, pride, and affirmation. She has a strong bond with this composer, as also evidenced in her important recording of his work for Naxos, and here she brought his music to life with confident pianism and strong projection of its phrases and moods. 

On a largely visual note, Ms. Poghosyan has become known for her demonstrativeness in physical movements at the keyboard, a quality that is controversial among pianists, with this reviewer finding both pros and cons depending on what naturally supports the music. Though some of her movements could be thought to be unnecessary or distracting, it seems that through them she helped illustrate the emotional journey of the music better than captions ever could have for some of her less experienced listeners – an advantage here especially, given the rather indistinct sound in this reverberant space.  Beyond that, some of the full-body thrusts seemed designed to help the Khachaturian’s percussive attacks overcome the rather dull sound of the church piano – though it seemed overall that there was little one could do to change that. The challenge was to pierce through the orchestra’s overwhelming power as well as the church’s reverberant wash – and though that was a tall order, her gestures might have at least helped the synchronizing, had everyone been attentive.

The Khachaturian’s deeply soulful central movement was a highlight, with the welcome appearance of that rarely heard instrument, the flexatone (often replaced in concert by similar but more readily available instruments). A very young Mason Tramm contributed his efforts here admirably, supported by the strings. For those unfamiliar with the flexatone, it is akin to the musical saw in its eerie bending of pitch, and it has a percussive element as well. Its sound is perfect for this composer’s slower doleful lines, and alongside Ms. Poghosyan’s clear and expressive playing, there was some memorable music-making.

Also notable throughout the work were the bass clarinet lines, ennobled by the strong, pure sound of Timothy Hanley.  The orchestra seemed to gain confidence and polish along the way, and Ms. Poghosyan shone especially brightly in the impassioned finale. The audience roared its approval as the beaming pianist and conductor shared bows and fist pumps – Ms. Poghosyan with noticeable Armenian flag colors on her right wrist. That was the “takeaway image” for this concert.

Among elements one may choose not to take away, but which need to be mentioned as a matter of course would be the rest of the program preceding the Khachaturian. Close to twenty minutes past the designated start time of 8 pm, we finally heard the opening piano harmonies of Rachmaninoff’s glorious and ever-popular Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor. It is a piece that would be more than enough for one evening for most pianists (Yuja Wang’s marathons notwithstanding), but unfortunately on this occasion it felt more like a mere appetizer for the Khachaturian. 

Despite Ms. Poghosyan’s physical exertions, including mini-launches off the bench with several of the opening chords, the muffled piano and garbled acoustics got the better of everyone. One also couldn’t help getting the sense – perhaps through some rubati that felt unsettled rather than natural – that this was not where the pianist’s heart truly dwelt. As the orchestra entered, they revealed a similar ambivalence. Rough patches seemed to suggest insufficient rehearsal time, and tempo discrepancies threatened to send the piece off the rails. These moments may be what led the pianist to be even more physically demonstrative in the attempt to corral some rogue orchestral personnel, but unfortunately, without a sufficiently compelling sound to match the visual, there were sections of chaos, scrambling, and blurring. Efforts to shoehorn cues into rapid fingerwork or wait midflight should rarely be necessary, but some of those were oddly impressive to anyone knowing the work’s challenges.

Why these issues beset the Rachmaninoff so much more than the Khachaturian is something of a mystery, but it is possible that the latter, being less well-known, had elicited more careful rehearsal. One might assume that orchestra players would know the Rachmaninoff almost well enough to play it without a conductor – after all, my pew neighbor was singing along with it (audiences, please do not do this!); alas, however, the piece still demands and deserves maximum effort.

After such stressful moments in the Rachmaninoff, many pianists would want to collapse, but – make no mistake – Kariné Poghosyan is a force.  She had stood out fourteen years ago as having “a passionate musicality that transcends repertoire issues, ‘off’ nights, and a host of other challenges…” (New York Concert Review, vol. 16, no. 3, 2009), and in some ways, this concert validated that comment. Given the rather “off” start to the evening, her rebound into the Khachaturian (after barely a two-minute break) was mind-boggling. Her finish was triumphant. Brava!

Thomas Nickell, piano

Tenri Cultural Institute New York, NY

September 17, 2023

It is always interesting, after one has reviewed a young student, to review that same performer some years later. Five years ago, I reviewed a very young Thomas Nickell in a program at Zankel Hall that included Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 2, Liszt’s Totentanz, and a composition by Mr. Nickell himself. He was on a dual path as a double major in piano and composition at The New School, Mannes College of Music (from which he now holds double B.M. degrees), but he had struck this listener at the time as being primarily a pianist who happened also to compose. Five years later (though still young!), with some more compositions, premieres, albums, and ballet company collaborations under his belt (including with the illustrious Pacific Northwest and Joffrey Ballet companies), he projects the opposite impression – that of a composer who also plays the piano, but much better than composers typically do. This is not to say that one needs to choose, because there is a synergy that happens by combining performing and composing – but each art can be “a jealous mistress” as the saying goes, so prioritizing can be helpful in building programs and ultimately in following one’s heart.

One had a sense that Mr. Nickell was following his heart and in complete comfort with his choice of the Satie Sarabande No. 1. It was a wonderful piece to precede Mr. Nickell’s own Sonata, as it readied the listeners’ ears for something fresh, new, and highly individual. It is funny that one can barely enter certain coffee shops without hearing Satie’s Gymnopedies, but the three Sarabandes have been relatively underplayed, so it was good to hear Mr. Nickell’s probing and sensitive rendition. 

It was also a joy seeing on the program the solo version of Poulenc’s Aubade, Concerto Chorégraphique (1929), which closed the evening. Though created by Poulenc himself from a ballet he had conceived, it has yet to gain currency as a piano work. Especially effective was Mr. Nickell’s fiery and fleet fingerwork in both the Toccata and the Allegro Féroce movements. The Andante – Variation de Diane, a meltingly lyrical movement, was given the sensitive devotion it needs and deserves. Bravo! Oddly, this movement wasn’t listed as the Variation de Diane, nor was there any mention of the story of the goddess Diana – the inspiration behind the work. Without a ballet to project the story, some brief program notes could have certainly helped guide listeners. Especially curious was their absence in view of the fact that there were notes for the four very famous Chopin works on the program. 

Newer still than Poulenc or Satie was Mr. Nickell’s own Sonata, which was given its world premiere during the first half, to a reception of the pianist’s cheering fans. Though this listener could have used more illumination to help knit together its chromaticism and thorny beginning with other sections, plus the brief appearance of a nostalgic waltz later on in the piece (is there a story there?), it contained many ideas one could find engaging (even if the composer himself, reading from an electronic score, needed a degree more of engagement at times). Also engaging was a movement called Silver Lake from the composition Scenes from My Childhood by Cameron Smith, about whom there were no biographical notes. Ms. Smith’s piece employs extended techniques (plucked lower strings inside the piano), to evoke the depths of the remote lake for which her piece is named. Mr. Nickell played it with a persuasive dreamlike quality.

Last of all to discuss, yet spread throughout the program and dominating it timewise – were four of Chopin’s most revered and frequently performed works, including two Ballades (No. 1 in G minor and No. 4 in F minor) and two Scherzi (No. 1 in B minor and No. 2 in B-flat minor). In these, Mr. Nickell acquitted himself well overall, but, given the immense stature of these pieces in the piano world and their very rich performing histories, it seems that programming these was not the best representation of Mr. Nickell’s considerable gifts. Though there were glimmers of magic where Mr. Nickell took more time than many pianists do to highlight certain inner voices and progressions, there were also a few too many details obscured or glossed over (a quibble mentioned also in my 2018 review) – and one hesitates even to use such a potentially dismissive term as “detail” in discussing the finely wrought creations of Chopin. 

Aside from some overlooked articulations, pedal blurring where clarity was needed, and lost textures (generally in the left hand), there was the occasional need for more attention to cantabile treble lines, which need to soar and ring out at phrase peaks. Pianists tend to live for such lines in Chopin, but perhaps Mr. Nickell was pre-emptively overcompensating for the notoriously harsh sound of the piano and acoustics of this venue, the Tenri Cultural Institute (and Tenri has been cited repeatedly for the harsh sound by reviewers from New York Concert Review). To Mr. Nickell’s credit, there was not a single harsh sound, neither in the bracing opening chords of the Scherzo in B minor (nor their return after the B major section), nor in the climaxes of the other pieces. Oddly, one might have willingly endured just a touch of harshness here and there, in pursuit of unleashing the big spirit in these great works – though it is of course hard addressing so many issues at once and finding the right balance. 

Projection, and the practice of thinking outwardly as a performer, may not be easy to combine with the introspection involved in composing, so it is undoubtedly a challenge to straddle two such demanding artistic pursuits; it is clear, however, that Mr. Nickell has the talent and potential to take on enormous challenges, so we’ll look forward to his next chapter.

Andrew Harrison, saxophone; Jason Lo, piano

Bargemusic, Brooklyn, NY

September 15, 2023

Friday, September 15, saxophonist Andrew Harrison played a program of new music with pianist Jason Lo at Bargemusic in Brooklyn, as the opening concert for a set of similarly tantalizing programs entitled “Eclectic Series.” I am happy to report that this concert lived up fully to the name of the series, boding well for the others (listed partially at the Bargemusic website: Bargemusic). This particular program was entitled “Imaginary Folksongs” for Saxophone and Piano, deriving its name from a featured composition of that name by Stephen Lias.

What first struck this reviewer was the personable style of the duo, joking about their flights to New York (presumably from California where they both teach) and about the airline losing some luggage. For outreach concerts, this duo would be a presenter’s dream with their approachable style and low-key ad-libbing. Though there were just biographies of the performers on the program, no notes on the program itself (something that might have been easily handled by these two performers, both with doctorates), Dr. Harrison mostly made up for that with some brief spoken introductions; printed notes, however, would still have been welcome!

Though their stage presence was “low-key” their playing was high voltage. Their first three selections from Imaginary Folksongs (2014) by Stephen Lias opened the concert with energy and brilliance. In Titania’s Bower, High in the Andes, and Bonnie-Bye, there are no actual folksongs referenced, but that is where the word “Imaginary” comes to the fore. The modally-inflected Titania’s Bower evokes a sense of the fairy queen of Ovid and Shakespeare dancing her way into a technicolor dreamscape, one foot in reassuringly traditional meters and tonality, while also exploring more adventurous musical territory. It was given a marvelous performance by Dr. Harrison on soprano sax, the instrument for all of the first three Lias pieces performed here. Pianist Jason Lo shone especially in the second piece, High in the Andes, with tonal colors that conveyed its melancholy well. (One had already had a hint of Dr. Lo’s coloristic bent from strains of his Ravel Ondine as he warmed up in the hall shortly before starting, but here he confirmed his fine collaborative sensitivity). The third piece, Bonnie Bye, was pure fun in its jaunty suggestion of highland dance, though, if there were any actual Scottish tunes in there, they seemed highly flavored by Poulenc and those of his milieu. This whole set has been embraced by a fair number of saxophonists – and it is no wonder, as it has immediate appeal and is brimming with lyricism – but one can hardly imagine the set being played better than it was by this duo.

Next on the program were Three Negro Spirituals (originally for violin) by Florence Price, recast for saxophone by Andrew Harrison. There has been something of a resurgence in programs of the music of Florence Price (1887-1953), and in all kinds of arrangements, but these were the first I’d heard for saxophone and piano. Arrangements of O Holy Lord, Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child, and Lord I Want to be a Christian were given respectfully minimal treatment and played with tenderness.

Returning to Imaginary Folksongs by Stephen Lias, the duo played Magic Island, Song of Light, and The Three Jolly

Pigeons – now with alto saxophone. In contrast to the earlier three pieces, these employ some extended techniques – including percussive effects, pitch bending, and air sounds – all carried out expressively by Dr. Harrison. The exotic atmosphere of Magic Island was especially enhanced by these effects. Dr. Lo achieved more of his sensitive shading in the Song of Light, with his gentle whole-tone patterns setting the perfect backdrop for Dr. Harrison’s long-breathed lines. The Three Jolly Pigeons concluded the set with zest and humor.

More lyricism of a meditative sort came next in the piece Journey (2008) by Lori Laitman. Lori Laitman is best known for her vocal music, but the story goes that she had written Journey as a song before the poet withdrew the poem – at which point she arranged it for saxophone and piano. Interestingly, there is a growing body of music that has been recast after being set to particular poems that became no longer available – one notable example being an Eric Whitacre setting of Robert Frost. The moral to composers seems to be, “inspiration first, details later.” In any case, the vocal world’s loss is the saxophone world’s gain in this moving work, which the duo played with devotion.

The program’s biggest virtuoso showpiece Rhapsody on Japanese Folksongs by Ryota Ishikawa, followed. Sailing through a panoramic range of moods and an encyclopedic array of trills and slides and tricks, the duo relished each one of these with ease. It was what could have been a perfect bravura close, but was capped off gently by what amounted to a programmed encore in the lovely miniature Lilac Tears (2022) composed by Jennifer Jolley. Ms. Jolley was present to acknowledge the receptive audience. The piece was, we are told, inspired by a Prince performance in 2004 of George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” at Harrison’s posthumous induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It was a dreamy close, after which Dr. Harrison invited the audience to “hang out” and ask questions. Of course, inquiring minds being the way they are, the first question was about what happened to the duo’s luggage. If the readers wish to know, they’ll simply have to be in the audience at the duo’s next performance!

Speaking of audience, the sparse attendance at this high-level performance struck one as almost criminal. Though Bargemusic is a bit off the beaten path, it has established a fine track record since its founding in 1977. If the hindrance for some is cost, they even have an admission-free series called “Music in Motion.” It is definitely worth exploring!

Da Capo Chamber Players

Curtis Macomber, violin; Marianne Gythfeldt. Clarinet; Christopher Gross, cello

Guest Artists: Roberta Michel, flute; Lois Martin, viola; Molly Morkoski, piano

Tenri Institute, New York, NY

June 11, 2023

It is a special pleasure to review an ensemble that was just creating a name for itself 51 years ago when this reviewer was a young child. Anyone in New York interested in new music over the past half a century has most likely known of the Da Capo Chamber Players for their many concerts and distinctions, starting with their Naumburg Chamber Music Award in 1973. They’ve given premieres of works by Elliott Carter, Joan Tower, George Perle, Shulamit Ran, and countless noted composers, many of whom have composed works just for them (totaling over 150). Though the only original member of the ensemble is now flutist Patricia Spencer, and she was not performing in this weekend’s concert at Tenri, Da Capo did present three of its stellar regular members, including violinist Curtis Macomber, clarinetist Marianne Gythfeldt, and cellist Christopher Gross. Their usual pianist, the uniquely gifted Steven Beck, was also absent from this concert, but guest pianist Molly Morkoski gave performances all evening that would be hard to surpass, if not impossible. To expand the forces for this concert – a celebration of young composers – the ensemble brought in excellent guest artists Roberta Michel (flutist) and Lois Martin (violist).

The program started with Look Again (2013, also listed in the program as 2014) by Jessica Mays (b. 1986). It turned out to be one of my favorite works on the program. Composed for flute, clarinet, cello, piano, and violin, it centers on the experience of grief and (in the composer’s words) “that experience of shock while facing the unknown and repetitive rumination that accompanies the grief cycle.” It was a refreshing – and surprisingly rare – experience to hear music that corresponded so perfectly with the composer’s written description and stated intent, though the music itself evoked more than those words ever could. Bursts of sound and large gestures conveyed shock, alternating with doleful repeated tones (especially from the piano) suggesting the relentless revisiting of thoughts in a mind that is simply trapped by grief. The players were united in their dedication to communicating the work’s essence, and they succeeded. It was both stimulating to the imagination and stirring to the emotions, the work of a fresh and sincere voice in the composition world.

The second of the five works we heard was a 2014 one by Durban-born Andile Khumalo (b. 1978) who currently teaches in South Africa and whose US connections include a Doctor of Musical Arts degree from Columbia University with George Lewis. His work on this program was Schaufe[r]inster II for solo piano- and yes, you read that correctly as a title and not an editor’s marking. As the composer writes, “The title of this piano series comes from a combination of two German words ‘Schaufenster’ (display window) and ‘schau fern’ (look farther away) … The two words triggered the idea of detailed observation or enhanced sensitivity towards observation or listening.” With wordplay already involving some brain-teasing, the composer continues with references to spectralism, the interlocking techniques of African xylophones, and research into the approach to the timbre of the ama Xhosa, some of which this listener imagines she may have heard in it – some not. Frankly, given the live acoustics at Tenri, the harshness of parts (especially in its second section) impeded truly receptive listening. With persistent focus, though, one could hear the glimmers of its many intriguing ideas. This listener was doing more searching than finding, but that may have been the composer’s aim. The pianist did a commendable job navigating the work’s myriad challenges and complexities, from fleet finger work and rapid leaps to handling disjunct material.

The third work on the program was Prelude (2019), a duo for cello and piano, composed by Katherine Balch (b. 1991).  Composed for Zlatomir Fung and Tengku Irfan, it was (in the composer’s words) “written to precede attacca into” the Brahms E minor Cello Sonata without pause, though she adds that “it may also be performed alone” – which of course it was here, given the program’s focus on new young composers. Aside from its ending on the dominant (B) of the E minor key of the sonata, one was hard-pressed to connect this work with Brahms, though undoubtedly such a new piece requires more listening and study. It was certainly full of great tonal and timbral variety, from the bell-like prepared piano effects to a variety of bowing techniques and the highest cello range imaginable, where sighing motives resembled seagull cries. Once again, percussive treble attacks were painful to hear in this space, but apart from those, it was a compelling performance. One could hardly ask for a more committed duo than that of Gross and Morkoski.

On a side note, one drawback of such a contemporary music series is what amounts to the segregation of new music from old. A composition designed to precede a specific Brahms work left this listener pining to re-hear the Brahms itself, as originally planned by the composer, and surely the newness and Romanticism would have complemented each other while making connections between them more apparent. Though the Brahms would have made this program twenty-five minutes too long, perhaps down the road Da Capo can experiment a bit more with diachronically themed programs, even on a small scale. Just as toddlers and seniors are now found to be mutually beneficial in intergenerational living experiments (ha! – after many societies already knew it), the same concept can enhance a musical experience. There could still be an emphasis on the new.

After intermission, we heard a piece called Trinket (2013), composed by Wang Lu (b. 1982). With paper clips on the piano strings and numerous effects for the cello, violin, and flute (plus piccolo), it tickled the ears as one might have imagined from its title. Ms. Lu writes (after stating that her piece had “no program note”) that the title indicates “a tiny box. It is shiny and sharp on the edges. Who knows what’s inside but we can hear sounds from the outside. We want to open it, we turn it around and around in our hands. But maybe it’s better not to open it, and only listen to it from the outside.” For “no program note” that was one of the most helpful notes imaginable for what we then heard. With the long rests between opening tones conveying the box’s mystery, its sharpness conveyed in its clear-cut phrases and percussiveness, and its sheen heard especially in the flute part, one could absolutely imagine this box, dream of some humorous possibilities inside it – and also have a healthy fear of it. It could have been called “Pandora” with its later recurring Dies Irae snippets (just four notes here which, then circled back up), but the word “Trinket” was a far more colorful (and somewhat onomatopoeic) choice. The ensemble was, as expected, superb.

The final work on the program was Enclosed Position (2014) by Matthew Ricketts (b. 1986). Composed for alto flute, clarinet, string trio, and piano, it is a stunning piece, built from (as the composer describes it) “a harmonic vocabulary which traces a zagged path through the chords of Ravel and Massenet, which start rather similarly but then modulate in different directions.” The program notes are too long to quote sufficiently here, but suffice it to say that they confirmed much of what a listener could hear and feel.  One heard in it both the sadness and sensuality of the musicians who inspired it, and at its very quiet end, one could hear that often-mentioned pin drop. It seemed not the typical silence of an audience wondering whether an unfamiliar piece was over – but more the silence of an audience hoping it was not over.

Bravo to Da Capo for so many great performances and compositions – and cheers to their upcoming 52nd season!

Magdalena Filipczak, violin; Jessica Xylina Osborne, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 30, 2023

A large crowd came out to Weill Hall this Tuesday for the debut recital of violinist Magdalena Filipczak with pianist collaborator Dr.Jessica Xylina Osborne, and it was a concert not to be forgotten. The program was beyond bountiful, including fiercely demanding 20th-century works (by Arnold Schoenberg, Witold Lutoslawski, Benjamin Britten, and Stephen Coxe), alongside virtuoso showpieces (Eugène Ysaÿe and Henryk Wieniawski), all flanking the centerpiece of the evening, Franz Schubert’s monumental Fantasy in C major, D. 934. Of these works, almost any by itself might be the high point of a typical violin program, but here were seven such pieces together. The duo of Filipczak and Osborne was certainly a match for it all, as one might have been led to expect from their excellent credentials, but they surpassed expectations, adding memorable surprises along the way.

Incidentally, this recital was supposed to have occurred in 2020 but was among those canceled because of the pandemic. Three extra years can make a program feel stale, but in this case time seems to have ripened it perfectly. With only one change from the original 2020 program (still posted on the Carnegie website) – Wieniawski’s Fantasie Brillante on motifs from Gounod’s Faust in place of Ravel’s Sonata No. 2 –   the substitution simply expanded on a “Fantasy” theme that was already emerging with the Schubert, Wieniawski, and Schoenberg (all heard in Ms. Filipczak’s debut CD album, Essence of Violin).

Back to 2023, the recital burst into action with a work aptly named Subito, Lutosławski’s dazzlingly craggy and chromatic test piece commissioned by Joseph Gingold for the 1994 International Violin Competition in Indianapolis. Ms. Filipczak exploited it as the vehicle of violin wizardry it was meant to be, showing a huge emotional range from violent outbursts to lyrical lines. The split-second timing of the duo was exceptional.

As if the Lutoslawski had not been edgy and dissonant enough, Schoenberg’s Phantasy, Op. 47, the composer’s last strictly instrumental work, followed. In lieu of program notes, Ms. Filipczak made some prefatory comments (also announcing a change from the program which had listed the Britten next), but sadly a very noisy late seating drowned her out. This was a lot of challenging music for a lay audience to process, but the duo did pull it off with conviction.

Anticipation was building (in this listener anyway) for the Schubert Fantasy in C Major (1827) as Ms. Filipczak explained the connection between this great work and one of the lieder Schubert had composed in 1822, Sei mir gegrüßt, or “I greet you” (the Fantasy‘s Andantino movement being a set of variations on that song, reworked). Little did we know what was up this pair’s sleeves, but just as the pianist started what sounded like the introduction of the Andantino movement (which would have been skipping ahead in the Fantasy), it turned out to be the similar piano introduction to the original song Sei mir gegrüßt – sung by none other than Ms. Filipczak herself! To be clear, that is not to say that Ms. Filipczak played a transcription of the song (something violinists have done in conjunction with this work), but that she sang it, and with a lovely and well-trained voice!  At this point, one recalled that along with her violin studies there were mentions in her biography of voice studies – but those had been nothing to prepare one for her singing at her own violin debut. What a wonderfully bold touch! It became clearer and clearer that Ms. Filipczak, along with being an immensely gifted violinist, is first and foremost a musician. She aims to communicate all she can by whatever means necessary, going the extra mile and taking risks. Based on what we heard, she is succeeding!

Overriding any urge for disruptive applause, her pianist and “partner in crime” led smoothly from the song to the tremolando piano opening of the Fantasy, as if in a dream sequence.  It was a breathtaking segue, and it enhanced the experience of this magnificent piece. Aside from what seemed slightly differing conceptions of tempi in the earlier of the Andantino‘s variations, the Fantasy benefitted from still more superb playing from this duo. Dr. Osborne handled with polish the torrents of passagework, octaves, and other difficulties, while always listening and intuiting keenly as a chamber musician. The piano lid was up, but her piano sound rarely overpowered – it was just robust, as most of this duo program demanded.

After intermission, we heard Britten’s Reveille: A Concert Study for Violin and Piano, moved from the first half. A dreamy evocation of the difficulty Britten’s young violinist friend had with early mornings, it enjoyed sleepy slides from the violinist over a hypnotic piano part, blooming gradually into the day’s etudes before a comically perfunctory close from both – it was done to a tee.The audience then lapped up Wieniawski’s Fantasia on Themes from Gounod’s Faust, a piece that piles so many different facets of violin technique on top of one another that it verges on hilarity. It was great to hear a duo good enough to have fun with it – one didn’t know whether to laugh or gasp in awe.

Cherchant, a 2019 work (World Premiere) by Stephen Coxe came as a sobering interlude with notes of Ravel, Berg, and Szymanowski, and it lived up to its title well with its sincere feeling of searching. Around this point in the long evening, it struck one that this duo may want to opt eventually for slightly shorter programs. Sometimes less is more (and it is a lot to ask an audience – including a reviewer – to leave after 10 pm for a concert starting at 8 pm). Allowing time for talking (and singing!), the Coxe work could have perhaps replaced the Schoenberg (fantasy themes notwithstanding), leaving the second half lighter and with more momentum.   Alternatively, perhaps just one of the showier pieces was enough. Ysaÿe’s Caprice d’après l’étude en forme de Valse de Saint-Saëns closed the program with still more over-the-top brilliance, and one approached what could be called the “virtuosity saturation point.”

Minor reservations aside, the Ysaÿe found Ms. Filipczak in incredible form yet again, and Dr. Osborne masterful, never becoming the bland background even with the violin in the fore, but always adding flavor to each gesture and phrase. Their rapport was felt in musical exchange that resembled witty conversation – wonderful fun, expertly projected.

A cheering crowd received two encores, Paderewski’s gentle Melodie Op. 16, No 2 (arr. Stanislaw Barcewicz) and Szymanowski’s haunting Prelude Op. 1, No. 1 (arr. Grażyna Bacewicz), both played with sensitivity. Hearty congratulations to both musicians!

Yixiang Hou, pianist

Joel Crawford, Recording, mixing, and mastering engineer

KNS Classical label: KNS A/139

The KNS Classical recording label (www.knsclassical.com) has just this spring released an album entitled Carnival featuring excellent performances by pianist Yixiang Hou in unusual selections from the late Renaissance to the twentieth century. Recorded December 18, 2022 on a Steinway at Robert J. Werner Recital Hall (University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, CCM), it includes composers as disparate as Orlando Gibbons, Robert Schumann, Charles-Valentin Alkan, Alexander Scriabin, and Arnold Schoenberg. Not too surprisingly this album includes Schumann’s epic Op. 9, Carnaval, but equally carnivalesque is Alkan’s Le Festin d’Ésope (The Feast of Aesop), Op. 39, No 12 (1857), an exciting and still relatively overlooked work. Mr. Hou, a winner of quite a few prizes, revels in this diverse musical menu, proving himself to be a gifted and adventurous young artist. 

One is a bit puzzled by the inclusion in a “Carnival” collection of several much more somber selections – the Schoenberg Op. 11, Scriabin’s “Black Mass” Sonata No. 9, and especially the  Gibbons Pavan in G minor which opens (the processional display aspect notwithstanding); perhaps these are to serve as foils for the Schumann and Alkan centerpieces, but if the title “Carnival” is simply to suggest great variety, these works do add to that.

Mr. Hou opens the album with solemnity, imbuing the Gibbons Pavan in G minor with a free, quasi-improvisatory expressiveness that suits it well. It is a joy to hear. Though performance practice specialists tend to prefer early instruments for such a piece, a modern piano works beautifully in its own ways (as Glenn Gould and others have agreed). Mr. Hou is a persuasive advocate here, exploiting the piano’s colors to project its mercurial changes and shaping its florid lines well.

Alkan’s Le Festin d’Ésope (the twelfth etude of Alkan’s Op. 39 from 1857) follows in complete contrast, starting with an impish theme in E minor followed by twenty-five virtuosic variations. Honoring Aesop with various animal evocations, this etude an orgy of pianistic display, chordal bombast, wild hand-crossing, rapid octaves, ridiculously fast sixty-fourth notes in one hand with simultaneous leaps in the other, and just enough rhythmic mischief and abbajante (“barking”) dissonance to keep a virtuoso from taking himself (or anything) too seriously. Mr. Hou handles the pyrotechnics easily, with a technique that allows him to unleash its maniacal outbursts with zest. Still a bit more measured than my “go-to” recording of this by  Marc-André Hamelin (who was noted for pioneering this and other pieces by Alkan), Mr. Hou maintains most of the overall tautness of tempo as requested by the composer (avoiding what pianists jokingly call the “emergency maestoso” even in the direst diabolical difficulties), but he takes extra time where the music invites breathing. He is always controlled, with careful metric placement. He also thankfully manages the bravura passages without stretches of “banging” or stridency.

The relative spareness of Schoenberg’s Drei Klavierstücke, Op. 11 (1909) feels just right after Alkan’s circus of excess, though the three pieces are challenging to pianist and listener alike. Mr. Hou gives them thoughtful interpretations, carrying the listener through their almost stream-of-consciousness journey. The slow second piece benefits from a particularly expressive and involved performance here, and the stormy third is full of passion.

Scriabin’s Piano Sonata No. 9, Op. 68 (“Black Mass”) is one of the more difficult of Scriabin’s piano sonatas to hold together, but Mr. Hou has the insight and technique to do just that. Going back to the album title “Carnival” (if this work were meant to relate to that title at all), this would surely be the carnival’s Tower of Terror or some such attraction. This pianist’s rendition comes closer than most in capturing its eerie otherworldliness and ineffable terror.

Placement is key in music, and almost anything following the “Black Mass” Sonata sounds joyous; Robert Schumann’s Carnaval thus brings an especially welcome spirit of triumph to close this album. Mr. Hou gives it all it requires in a fairly mainstream, unsurprising but thoroughly satisfying performance. One can only imagine that his various live performances of it in competitions must have wowed his juries with his technical strengths and reliable musicality.

Along with being a frequent prizewinner in competitions, Mr. Hou continues his studies as a doctoral candidate at the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music (CCM) under the tutelage of Ran Dank (whom this reviewer reviewed as a musician of “immense talent” in 2008 as the winner of the Hilton Head International Competition).  What a fruitful pairing of two adventurous musicians! In addition, Mr. Hou has studied at the Shanghai Conservatory with pianists Qi Zhang, Weiling Chen, Dachun You, and Ting Zhou, in Boston with Wha Kyung Byun at the New England Conservatory, and at the Aspen Music Festival with Arie Vardi.

To reach such a high level while still a student bodes well for Mr. Hou’s future, and he is certainly an artist to watch as he continues to explore. Meanwhile, one can find his album at most online music stores. It would be hard, if not impossible, to find this particular array of works played as well by a single artist.

Jonathan Mamora, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 4, 2023

A large audience turned up at Weill Hall on May 4th to hear the Carnegie Debut recital of Jonathan Mamora, the 2022 Solo and Concerto Winner of the Palm Springs International Piano Competition (formerly The Virginia Waring International Piano Competition), and they were well rewarded. From a brief introduction by the competition’s Artistic Director, Robert Koenig, we learned that around a dozen audience members had flown in for the occasion, and one could feel their excitement, along with that of others.

Jonathan Mamora is what one might call a “big” pianist, in the best sense of the term. Starting with his programming, he chose both of Rachmaninoff’s fiercely demanding Piano Sonatas (Opp. 28 and 36), the Sonata No. 3 (Op. 82) by Lowell Liebermann (b. 1961), Liszt’s Les Jeux d’eaux å la Villa d’Este from Années de pèlerinage (Troisième année), and to open the concert a work entitled Resolve (from the set of Five Intermezzi) by Australian composer Carl Vine (b. 1954). Though the Vine and Liszt works are relatively short, they are substantial, with wide-ranging challenges, and as for Rachmaninoff’s Sonatas, their considerable difficulty is paired with a need for mental and physical stamina, with No. 1 being over a half hour and No. 2 in the original 1913 version approaching that. The Liebermann 3rd Sonata in one movement is hardly short, but it started to feel short between two behemoths. Either of the Rachmaninoff Sonatas might normally be the single central attraction of a program surrounded by shorter works; it was thus a rare and overwhelming experience hearing both together.

Along with the programming, Mr. Mamora’s playing itself is larger than life. Perhaps it is unsurprising for a winner of several big competitions, but he possesses a technique so solid that it seemed at times that he couldn’t play a wrong note if he tried. On top of that solidity, he dazzles, with lightning-fast fingers and an encyclopedic array of dynamics and articulations.  

Carl Vine’s Resolve (2022) made a compelling opening. Commissioned by the Olga Kern Piano Competition, which Mr. Mamora also won, it has all the hallmarks of a test piece, revealing a full spectrum of moods, colors, articulations, and tempi, all turning on the proverbial dime and with a dramatic finish. Some of this pianist’s most expressive outpourings of the evening came through this work, as well as through the Liebermann Sonata (2002). He brought both to life with brilliant colors, imbuing their more elusive phrases with emotional richness and clarity and then knocking us out with pyrotechnics. Mr. Mamora demonstrated a marked ability to go to the heart of a work’s drama and to share it in a way that grips the audience. That gift is arguably the most important one for a soloist, and though it is often mistaken for showiness, it is quite distinct from it; it is communication in service to the composer, pure and simple. Though a glance at the program had one ready to characterize Mr. Mamora as a Romantic player, it may be newer music that will benefit from his gift the most. 

Interestingly, for several of his Romantic offerings, Mr. Mamora chose works that stood to benefit most from his expert restraint and control. The glistening fountains of fingerwork which verge on Impressionism in Liszt’s Jeux d’eaux were almost pointillistic and strikingly even like perfectly cut diamonds. The cascades and trills shimmered with what seemed lighter pedal than one usually hears. The extremely bright upper register of the Yamaha CFX concert grand heightened the glassiness in Liszt’s crystalline droplets. At times, frankly, the piano treble was painfully bright, but there are always surprises bringing such resonant instruments into intimate halls.

Incidentally, before playing the Liszt, Mr. Mamora spoke briefly to the audience, first with gracious thanks and then some brief notes about the program. He seemed amazingly calm, especially for one with both Rachmaninoff Sonatas yet to come. This mature serenity was surely what was behind the pacing of the next works, especially the Sonata No. 1. He casually mentioned (to paraphrase) that the Sonata No. 1 does not have melodies per se as much as motives, and (without getting into definitions of melody) this listener saw some truth in that;  what he might have added briefly, though, was that behind some of these repeated-tone motives are the unmistakeable church chants that were such a huge part of Rachmaninoff’s upbringing.  If not chants melodically, they were certainly rhythmic stand-ins for them, just as one finds in late Liszt. Long stretches of such minimal melodic motion have historically made this ponderous work less accessible than the Sonata No. 2 (and far less often performed). It is a profoundly beautiful piece, bringing to mind in many sections the composer’s Concerto No. 3 (composed just a few years later and in the same key), but it requires masterful pacing, which Mr. Mamora has to an impressive degree. He never wallowed in local detail but kept a grip on the overall journey. It would be hard to imagine it being played better, so perhaps he will help bring it increased favor.

After intermission, we heard Lowell Liebermann’s one-movement Piano Sonata No. 3, given a powerful performance abounding in all the virtues mentioned earlier. It has been speculated that this work, composed in 2002, may have been partly in reaction to the events of 9/11, but in any case, it reflects the compositional brilliance for which all of Lowell Liebermann’s works are known. Mr. Mamora captured its Inquieto, esitante opening, building from there, and he sensitively rendered the Dona Nobis Pacem and Lullabye at its center. He built to great ferocity at the end (what a left hand!). Some repeated percussive attacks were again almost too strident to bear, but assuming the possible 9/11 origins, those would seem justified.

To follow this acerbity came more familiar Romanticism – again well-placed – with Rachmaninoff’s Piano Sonata No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 36, performed in its original (1913) version. There is a “Goldilocks” situation with this piece, whereby many feel (as it seems Rachmaninoff did) that the original version was too sprawling. Others find the revised (1931) version too terse, and still a third camp finds the Vladimir Horowitz hybrid of the two (or similar amalgams) “just right.” For full disclosure, this listener is devoted to Rachmaninoff’s more concise 1931 version. Hearing the original again after many years of embracing only the revision felt like having a troubling dream of a dear loved one who is suddenly meandering and disheveled. It was hard to hear, but all in all, Mr. Mamora managed to pull its unwieldy parts together, finishing the recital with virtuoso excitement.

A standing ovation with many shouts of “Bravo” from his fans elicited a highly free interpretation of the Schumann-Liszt Widmung. One was surprised by some of the rubato and by a few unusual readings, including a curious bass line at the very end (using G-flat rather than the usual G – seemingly intentional as it happened both times) –  but it was all thought-provoking. In any case, it was practically miraculous that we were offered any encore at all after such a program. One looks forward to more from this outstanding pianist. Bravo!

The Modus Operandi Orchestra; Justin Bischof, Music Director and Conductor

St. Mary Church, Long Island City, New York

April 29, 2023

It was especially uplifting this weekend, as we emerge from the pandemic’s death blows to the performing arts, to attend the most recent concert by the Modus Operandi Orchestra under music director and conductor Justin Bischof.  In a program entitled “The Glory of Vienna: An Evening of Mozart and Beethoven,” they showed that not only can local orchestras flourish again, but audiences are ready and eager for them. St. Mary’s Church in Long Island City, a large, beautiful, and acoustically live venue, was packed for this concert. It was so packed that the front ticket desk was overwhelmed, and the concert started twenty minutes late. This listener, often needing to watch the clock, grew actually fairly impatient about that (and there ought to be some measures in place to prevent it), but as the conductor Justin Bischof announced “it is the price of success.” A success it was, on all fronts.

With an excellent conductor and corps of fine musicians – twenty-eight strings, plus healthy winds, brass, and timpani – they had the spirit, skill, and energy they needed to bring to life a program that included Beethoven’s Coriolan Overture, Op. 62 and Symphony No. 7, as well as Mozart’s Symphony No. 35 (“Haffner”). In addition, with guest soprano Laura Léon, they performed Mozart’s Exsultate Jubilate, K. 165, and No, no che non sei capace, K. 419. Their promotional material announced that the concert would “celebrate the riches and majesty of works that either premiered in Vienna or that have a strong connection to this glittering European capital city,” and that celebration was palpable.

Justin Bischof introduced each work with the spoken equivalent of program notes, and though this listener at first thought “Oh, no, more waiting,” his comments were brief and illuminating. Maestro Bischof strikes the perfect balance between high-level professionalism and the ability to reach out to the non-musicians in the audience. His comments were simple and entertaining enough for the many young listeners present but also held valuable information for the adults (such as noting that Mozart’s “Haffner” Symphony manuscript can be found right across town at the Morgan Library). His comments on the Coriolan Overture highlighted the contrasting themes of war and peace in it, and the audience was rapt from its dark dramatic opening to its whispering close. 

Mozart’s Symphony No. 35, the “Haffner,” was opened with energy and precision. One could close one’s eyes and easily imagine oneself in any of the major symphony halls of the world hearing a more renowned orchestra. One followed each theme, each voice, and each entry with the excitement that was meant to imbue the “ennobling” ceremony of the Haffner for whom the work was commissioned (despite further transformations before the work became the Symphony No. 35). The Andante movement spotlighted the expressive unity of the orchestra, and the Menuetto enjoyed its characteristic restraint. The Presto finale impressed as unusually clear, especially given the brisk tempo. It closed with rousing ebullience.

The famous solo motet, Exsultate Jubilate for soprano and orchestra, followed. Maestro Bischof gave a glowing introduction to Laura Léon , and she lived up to it fully. Her melismatic singing in the first section  – and the final Alleluja section –  was dazzling, but it was the sublime softness and expressivity at the end of the Tu virginem corona section that had me thinking we will be hearing much more from this talented musician. Following the Exsultate was the “insertion” aria (written to insert into an opera by Pasquale Anfossi) No, no, che non sei capace. It is an angry aria of disappointed love, with its anger made manifest in ridiculously difficult high notes – yet thanks to the uncanny gifts of Ms. Léon, one still heard in it the transcendent beauty of Mozart rather than mere shrieking. She sang with amazing ease and fluidity. One occasionally had trouble matching the diction with the printed text, but that may have been the overwhelming reverberation obliterating consonants. Brava to this young talent!

After the obligatory pitch for funds from Maestro Bischof, the program proceeded with Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. He also set the scene historically by describing the orchestra that played it as having included Meyerbeer, Hummel, and Salieri. That warrants a few moments of awe, but the playing lived up to this awe. The first movement projected a jubilance enough to overcome the late hour. The flutes shone particularly in the movement’s big transition, but the winds in general shone throughout. The Allegretto movement, one of the divine miracles in music, held the audience rapt, as one noticed strikingly in the soft fugal section. It was partly striking because there were such very young children held spellbound throughout as if watching an action movie. With worries over attention deficits and smartphone addictions, this heightening of sensibilities in young audiences represents a success that will bear fruit in the generations to come. Thanks to the enveloping reverberations of St. Mary’s church, those children tapping on air drums and parents rocking little ones on laps were barely noticeable – except for what they added to the overall joy. A rare few minor glitches occurred, but all was always controlled. The Presto movement offered many opportunities for the horns to shine, even if the upper strings seemed more “caffeinated” than the lower (as often happens – and there were only four celli and three basses listed at that), but by the final exuberant movement, there was hardly a soul able to keep from dancing.

Check the MOO website to add future concerts to your calendars, but (for now) perhaps make allowances for an extra twenty minutes. Bravi tutti!