Books, Music, and Lyrics by Debra Cook;

Debra Cook as Debra;

McKinslee Mitchell as McKinslee

Tanya Taylor, collaborative pianist;

Kathy Morath, Director; Christopher Stephens, Music Director

Gene Fisch, Jr, Producer

Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 14, 2023

For one of my more unusual reviewing assignments, I found myself on Valentine’s Day evening attending the musical “Jilted to Perfection” by Debra Cook at Weill Hall. What was unusual? Well, the whole night was, but to start, a musical at Weill Hall is unusual in and of itself (as a classically oriented recital hall). Then, despite its billing as a musical, one found that there were none of the usual sets or backdrops except the hall’s usual Steinway grand piano, and the only prop was an armchair (used chiefly for one angry slamming episode). The show would thus rely completely on the music and cast to inspire the audience’s imagination – but, wait, what cast? Apart from a special singing appearance in the last few minutes by McKinslee Mitchell (creator Debra Cook’s young granddaughter), the “cast” consisted solely of Ms. Cook herself, singing ten songs she composed and strung together with a memoir’s worth of tales and quips for the whole eighty-plus minutes (with no intermission). The collaborative pianist Tanya Taylor was a stalwart professional through it all but was inconspicuous, leaving it clearly a “one-woman show.” So, how was it? In a word, inspiring.

When my humorous “better half” mimics theatre raves, he says in a fangirl voice, “I laughed, I cried – it became a part of me!” Well, I have to admit that Jilted to Perfection did make me laugh – and cry – so call me a fangirl. That said, it might need some tweaks to become “a part of me”- but I’ll get to those.

The show started off centering on Ms. Cook’s life as a singer in her thirties and gradually shifted focus to a romance that became more central to her world over the course of (what I later learned to be) several decades. She opened, ably singing audition excerpts from Bel Raggio lusinghier of Rossini’s Semiramide, interrupting those to tell of the challenges facing young singers, from frequent sexual harassment to the micromanaging of an accompanist’s sheet music. The show promised to take a rather different direction from what followed based on that first scene (which one could say about several scenes), but since Ms. Cook is a trained classical singer and the show is part memoir, it did serve to establish her background. Ms. Cook’s singing credits have included solo performances with the National Choral Society at Lincoln Center’s Avery Fisher Hall, Utah Symphony’s Beethoven 9th, and several seasons in repertory with Utah Opera Company. In this scene, though, she was primarily the storyteller, exaggerating strenuous vocal feats to semi-comical effect, presumably for the entertainment of a non-operatically inclined audience. She occasionally pushed the singing volume beyond the point of a listener’s comfort (whereas I wanted more volume in the storytelling that connected it all), but it was presumably to establish the rigors of her calling.

Ms. Cook moved swiftly on to her more Broadway-esque numbers, First Sight (as in “love at first sight”) and Jilted Kiss (about a mysterious kiss shared after Debra had stood up her date, Fredric Cook) – though operatic flourishes would burst forth throughout the evening. In First Sight she recalled her earliest encounters with Fred (the ostensible subject of the musical), but those hints of romance barely took flight before comical touches returned, including what was called the “Four Divorce Mombo” scene (which I’d almost hoped to become a full Mambo dance scene), as Debra recounted a brief history of Fred’s four divorces. The realization that he was a Scientologist (not quite in synch with her Mormon background) set up the laugh line “what could possibly go wrong?” so one was led to expect a zany comedy about love gone awry. The title itself, Jilted to Perfection,helped that slight misdirection, though the song Jilted Kiss gave glimmers of love’s promise. All of the songs in the show were composed – and sung – with musicality and theatrical flair.

Even amidst Ms. Cook’s stream-of-consciousness style, one wasn’t mentally ready for the next song, Why Does Daddy Hit Me?, and it might have been good to have a few more hints about Fred before this plunge into his childhood. Only the final pages of the program booklet revealed that one of the goals of the musical was to “promote Fred’s work as a philosopher and teacher in preparation for books on his works.” Apart from program notes, an audience relies on proportionate timing and other cues to learn what to care about in a musical, and the focus up to this point had indeed been Debra more than Fred (with hints of various other themes in her life also showing potential for development). The program booklet included a “Composer’s Notes” section, aiming to address this issue, but it seems that still further clarification and focus could help. Sometimes artists’ gifts and ideas are so abundant that an artist wants to say too much all at once.  This is not a weakness, as long as one can learn to mete out creations gradually towards, say, another few musicals. It also may be inevitable that a one-person musical will face challenges in appearing to be about someone else. There are many solutions, including narrowing the focus or simply adjusting the pacing in spots.

Moving on, Why Does Daddy Hit Me? dipped into Fred Cook’s traumatic childhood with a heartbreaking tone that reflected Debra’s growing insight into Fred, and how and why he had become a “seeker” in life (with interests ranging from Scientology to the LDS church, in which, as we read in the booklet, his final role was as a High Priest). It is a song that could easily be used on its own for crusades against abuse – just as several other songs could take on separate lives.

The next song, Nine (named for the number of other men Ms. Cook had been seeing), reverted to reinforcing my initial impression of a light rom-com, complete with flirtatious shimmying that would make a woman half Ms. Cook’s age envious. (Did I mention that Ms. Cook is a mother and grandmother to many children? and co-founder and Executive Director of Utah Conservatory, Partner in Professional Artists Group, and Park City Music?) Yes, she is a dynamo.

Then, before one could blink after the song Nine, we heard Surrendering Heart, the show’s most stirring love song. It was moving – and beautifully sung – but also left me with the sense that I’d missed some steps leading to its intensity. The popular texter’s acronym ELI5 (“explain like I’m five”) has its place in musical production, especially when a writer is so close to the material (such as anything autobiographical) that there may be neglect in filling in gaps for a total stranger (and n.b., the five-year-old in ELI5 must not be one’s grandchild). Ideally, an audience member needs no supplementary reading for a complete understanding of the heart of a musical.

Later scenes of Jilted to Perfection zigzagged rather fast. In record time there was a move to Hollywood, a marriage, a wacky number about fraud called Jodie Foster’s Father is a Con Man, a scene entitled “In Sickness & In Health,” some comical struggles with Utah terrain in King’s Peak, mosquitoes, jagged rocks, a recession, surgeries (not necessarily in that order), and an extremely touching song called Big Guy –  all passing by in a bit of a blur of bubbling creativity. Even the passing of Fred was only briefly communicated before the song Come Back Home – as a concerned son cut short his phone call with the words “I’ll call you back.” The unspoken words there were a silent dagger, undoubtedly intentional, as perhaps the rapid blur was intentional, to signify the brevity of life … but then one tends to ask: what else was intended? Flipping through the program booklet, one finds that one of the two stated goals of this production of the musical is the promotion of Fred Cook’s work as a philosopher. Though Fred’s philosophies were not explicitly “front and center” to this listener, the printed list of “Dr. Fred’s Philosophies” could fill an entirely new musical, one song or anecdote for each homily perhaps. On the other hand, since Fred Cook’s credo includes the belief that “Man is made that he might have joy,” then the sheer exuberance throughout this show could be seen as its own form of homage to his belief, thanks to the energies of Ms. Cook.

In summary, any observations of mine do not diminish the fact that this musical is brimming with all kinds of life – love, frustration, humor, sadness, and ultimately an uplifting determination to go on, in a sense to start over. There wasn’t a dry eye in the hall after the closing number, Good Fight Hallelujah with Debra Cook and her granddaughter McKinslee Mitchell. The song itself shows a certain debt to the “Alleluia” part of All Creatures of Our God and King, a hymn of great importance over the centuries (drawing the attention of Ralph Vaughan Williams and others), so it tugs at very deep heartstrings. Its recurring line “I can still find my own destiny” is a lasting message, and it was the perfect “take-home tune.” I won’t even describe how the encore (a reprise) was handled (to avoid a spoiler), but it was potent, drawing on the sense of theatrics for which the presenter DCINY (Distinguished Concerts International New York) is famous.

Incidentally, the program booklet states that the second goal for this performance through DCINY is “to generate momentum to engage an iconic Broadway Diva to play Debra on Broadway.” If that is decided, I’ll put in my two cents: Kristin Chenoweth! That said, the big appeal of this musical in its current form is that it is the author-composer’s personal story, shared and sung by her. Who could match Ms. Cook there?

The Oberlin Orchestra, Oberlin College Choir, Oberlin Gospel Choir, Oberlin Musical Union

Raphael Jiménez, Conductor

Chabrelle Williams, soprano; Ronnita Miller, mezzo-soprano; Limmie Pulliam, tenor; Eric Greene, baritone

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 20, 2023

On January 20, Carnegie Hall was packed for a grand ending to the week of Martin Luther King Jr. Day as musicians from Oberlin performed a program featuring The Ordering of Moses, the fifty-minute oratorio (1932), by a noted black Canadian-American composer. Nathaniel Dett (1882-1943). The Oberlin Orchestra, Oberlin College Choir, Oberlin Gospel Choir, and Oberlin Musical Union all joined forces for this still-underappreciated work, along with a first half consisting of the Tragic Overture of Brahms and a 2018 work by Puerto Rican composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez.

To open the program, Oberlin President Carmen Twillie Ambar greeted the audience with words about Oberlin’s historic role in the struggle for diversity and freedom, an important one indeed, as Oberlin was the first American college to fully admit Black students and the first to admit women.  Conservatory Dean William Quillen followed with his own welcome, adding to his words in the program booklet, which had noted that R. Nathaniel Dett was an Oberlin graduate in 1908, the first Black double major, and the first Black alum to receive an honorary doctorate from them in 1926.  One can understand, for such an Oberlin-centric occasion, that the speakers might not dwell on Dett’s history with many other institutes of higher education, but these included also Harvard (where he won two prizes, 1920-21), the Fontainebleau School in France, where he studied with Nadia Boulanger (1929), and the Eastman School of Music, where he received his Master of Music degree in 1932, composing The Ordering of Moses as his thesis (to be reworked for its premiere in 1937). Dett was a model of the scholarly and artistic ideals that uplift individuals and groups, and as the final jubilant movement of his oratorio resounded at Carnegie, there seemed enough inspiration in the hall to fuel the entire planet.

The connection between the story of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt into freedom and the emancipation of the enslaved Africans needs little explanation, but suffice it to say that spirituals are incorporated and woven into the texture throughout, as was a growing pursuit during Dett’s Oberlin days studying Dvořák, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, and others. As Dett wrote later in 1918, “We have this wonderful store of folk music—the melodies of an enslaved people … But this store will be of no value unless we utilize it.” The spiritual Go Down Moses permeates his oratorio from the work’s first descending four-note motive in the cello, foreshadowing the specific intervals matched to the words “Egypt’s land.” The solo cellist, presumably the listed Principal, Amanda Vosburgh, handled this opening and her recurring solo lines with sensitivity. The orchestral playing was excellent overall under the direction of conductor Raphael Jiménez.

Enter the singers. We first heard from excellent baritone Eric Greene as The Word (essentially the narrator of the story) and later as the Voice of God. Mr. Greene was regal in delivering his solemn account of the Israelites’ bondage, and he was soon joined by mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller, equally successful in projecting torment as the Voice of Israel. She was then paired in a compelling duet with the impressive soprano Chabrelle Williams as Miriam (sister of Moses). The chorus was powerful and passionate, to say the least, and always well-timed and reliable. Just occasionally the upper choral voices were overpowering to the point of stridency  – only mentioned because a poor tyke in front of me was forced to cover his ears, and I sometimes wanted to do the same. Dett wrote so much brilliance into his orchestration itself, including the clanking of chains in the percussion section, that no exaggerated choral volume is necessary to convey the power of his ideas. Where the chorus was particularly effective was in parts where they echoed or underscored certain phrases, such as “Mercy Lord” or later in the “Hallelujah” which, as Courtney-Savali L. Andrews aptly put it in her program notes resembles “call-and-response – much like the climax of sermonic exegesis in the Black church.” Their timing was just right, and their preparation, credited in the program to conservatory faculty Gregory Ristow and Ben Johns, was excellent.

Though God in a traditional oratorio is generally a bass or baritone, tenor Limmie Pulliam is divine the second he opens his mouth. He was superb in his role as the hero Moses, projecting a warm, rich tone that captured the leader’s strength, but also the touch of vulnerability as he undertook his mission to cross the Red Sea.

All in all, these combined forces created a memorable interpretation of Dett’s magnum opus. High points were many, including the March of the Israelites which sets a haunting choral hum over an irresistibly driving beat. The latter’s kinship with later film scores (e.g., Rózsa’s King of Kings) may even suggest that later composers owed a certain debt to Dett (!). The highest point, naturally, was the rousing final section, He is King of Kings, in which all the musicians united in unbounded jubilance. Their ecstatic music of praise and deliverance was exceeded only by the roar of applause as listeners jumped to their feet. Bravissimo!

Incidentally, at the risk of sounding heretical, one wonders whether, just as Handel’s Hallelujah chorus is sometimes excerpted from the oratorio Messiah, this last movement of Dett (paired with perhaps one other) might allow audiences more valuable exposure to this very special composer for programs where there are not fifty minutes to spare. Perhaps this happens already, but I haven’t encountered it.

Meanwhile, with a first half that had fifteen minutes of spoken introduction, there was room on the program only for two relatively short works before intermission, the Tragic Overture of Brahms, Op. 81 (composed in 1880, the same year as the Academic Festival Overture) and A Metaphor for Power (2018) by ASCAP award-winning Puerto Rican composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez (b. 1990).

The Brahms was majestically done, with the passion that tends to be seen more frequently with student ensembles than with professionals (no “phoning it in”) – and there were only fleeting moments of rough edges where there could have been tauter ensemble. Especially beautiful were some of their hushed piano dynamics. The entire orchestra and their conductor Raphael Jiménez can be very proud.

A Metaphor for Power (taking its name from a famous James Baldwin quote) closed the first half. It is, in the words of its composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez, “a musical essay that attempts to address the present turbulence of ideologies, dreams, and hard-hitting realities. The piece unfolds as an expedition through an expanse of troublesome experiences visited by fleeting and unsuccessful moments of hope.” One need look no further for the latter “unsuccessful moments” than the fragments of America the Beautiful that dissolve into a dissonant chromatic puddle, the rumble of indecipherable spoken words that convey unrest, and the hints of My Country ‘Tis of Thee cast in irony and despair.

The orchestration reflects imagination, employing everything from harp and glockenspiel to Mahler hammer and tubular bells. There was no question that this composer is a gifted colorist with an abundance of emotional energy and the means to communicate it. He certainly had some fans in the audience, and he bounded to the stage exultantly afterwards to take his bows.

Martin Matalon, composer

Elena Klionsky, pianist 

Salome Jordania, piano II (Track 4)

Eve Payeur and Julián Macedo, percussionists;

David Adamcyck, sound designer (electronics)

Joel Sachs, conductor, the New Juilliard Ensemble (Track 1)

MSR Classics: MS 1789

As fans of contemporary classical music will want to take note (if they don’t already know), an exciting CD was released this year dedicated to music by Argentinian composer Martin Matalon (b. 1958, Buenos Aires) on the MSR Classics label. The CD has four tracks, all with pianist Elena Klionsky performing in a central role, first as concerto soloist (Track 1), then as solo pianist (Tracks 2 and 3), and then as Piano I in a mixed percussion/electronic ensemble (Track 4). The works are from a timespan of fourteen years of Mr. Matalon’s output (2000-2014), and the range of techniques and expressiveness is wide.

Martin Matalon has made a growing international reputation for himself through many genres including opera,  choreographic works, installations, concert music, and film scores. He has won numerous awards, including a Guggenheim Fellowship in 2005, and he is currently the composition professor at the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique et de Danse de Lyon. Organizations performing his works have included the Orchestre de Paris, Ensemble Intercontemporain, Orquesta de Barcelona y Catalunya, MusikFabrik (Cologne), and many other ensembles. His film scores have included one for the restored version of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (commissioned by IRCAM) as well as three for surrealistic films of Luis Buñuel. 

It was at the Juilliard School in New York (while obtaining his Master of Music Degree) that Mr. Matalon met Elena Klionsky, a pianist who went on to play throughout the United States in recital, orchestral, chamber music, and duo-piano performances. In her native Russia, she has performed with leading orchestras including the Moscow State Symphony, St. Petersburg Camerata, Ural Philharmonic Orchestra, and Russian Federal Orchestra. Coming to the US, she was mentored for many years by Isaac Stern as well as at Juilliard (first in the Pre-College Division, later for BM and MM degrees). She was the first foreigner to open the annual Moscow Stars Festival in the Great Hall of the Moscow Conservatory and has performed at the White House as part of its National Treasures event. 

For full disclosure, this reviewer was at Juilliard for several of the same years as Mr. Matalon and Ms. Klionsky but missed several decades of their careers since then. Having not seen Ms. Klionsky since school days and having remembered mostly personal attributes of sensitivity, delicacy, and a Romantic aura, I was not prepared for the playing of a tigress that emerged in several of this CD’s works! From relentless ostinato patterns and clangorous clusters to trills and soft coloristic effects, and everything in between, Ms. Klionsky shows that she is not to be limited to any one niche. Mr. Matalon, then a student of Vincent Persichetti, has also clearly forged his own paths, in a way that intertwines all the arts.

Poetry takes a role in Mr. Matalon’s first work on the CD, Trames IV: Concerto for Piano and Eleven Instruments (2001) with the New Juilliard Ensemble under Joel Sachs. As the composer writes, “The generic name ‘Trame’ is inspired by a poem of the same name by Jorge Luis Borges, which unveils for us the synchrony that exists among all elements constituting ‘universal history.’ Less ambitious and more circumscribed, my Trames evoke simply the ‘weaving’ proper to each composition, its ‘Ariadne thread.'” Despite its description as “less ambitious and more circumscribed” Trames IV is overwhelmingly complex in texture to the point of being dizzying. If one reads the very short Borges poem, La Trama,  telling of the attack on a gaucho in Buenos Aires and the eerie connection to  Julius Caesar’s betrayal 1900 years earlier, one can perhaps understand better the source of the harrowing, almost chaotic flight through time in this piece. Just to be clear, the word chaotic here is not meant to imply that the piece does not possess internal order, for though this listener failed to grasp the piece immediately in its entirety, it did seem oddly internally cohesive, as if a wrong note or beat would be easily apparent. 

At sixteen and a half minutes, Trames IV comprises five continuous movements. Though we are told of a prologue and epilogue and movements in between, there is no clear boundary from one to the next, a fact that seems appropriate to its themes of connectedness. Meanwhile, its mixtures of timbres, though using familiar instruments (strings, winds, brass, a full battery of percussion), create effects that sound completely new. As with combining flavors, it is an instance of the whole being “greater than the sum of its parts.” The expressiveness ranges from ominous and other-worldly to furious in its driving piano ostinato (think of the third movement of  Barber’s Piano Concerto, as if played on acid). Throughout it all, the pianist is part of the concertante texture, in which split-second timing is essential. One only wishes that this were a video recording, because the interaction had to be awe-inspiring at the live performance; it is remarkable, though, as it is. The liner notes state that this performance was recorded live at the Peter Jay Sharp Theater, Lincoln Center with Robert Taibbi as the engineer. Though premiered in Paris in 2001, Musical America listed this performance (2010) as the US Premiere. We can so glad that it was preserved and is shared in this CD.

The next work (Track 2) is Artificios (2014) dedicated to Elena Klionsky, who gives it its World Premiere performance here (recorded in a private studio in New York by Dale Ashley). Just around seven minutes long, it also covers a wide range, particularly in tonal register. As Mr. Matalon writes, “My interest at the time I wrote Artificios was to create polarities through a single musical parameter. I chose to underline the importance of register: how the same lines employed in the two extremes of the piano would imply a totally different perception of the material and create polarities: density and lightness, black and white, opacity and crystalline. The lines are inhabited by trills, spirals, loops, chirping birds, cascades and repeated notes.” Ms. Klionsky handles all of these components with conviction, particularly the glassy treble repeated notes, and with an improvisatory feeling that must surely have pleased the composer.

The third work, Dos Formas del Tiempo (2000, roughly translated as “Two Forms of Time”) is perhaps the most accessible work of the CD, just over seven minutes and developing its toccata-like left-hand opening in increasing complexity, syncopation, and cluster chords with never a dull moment. As the composer describes the piece, the musical “objects” that populate it include “explosions, trills, sparkling, garlands, spirals, repeated notes or resonances.” There are long stretches of crystalline motifs in a high treble register that are so subtly varying that, even if one were not enamored of the piece itself (and it is far from “easy listening”), one has to admire the pianist for processing it all and projecting it with such polish. One never gets the sense that Mr. Matalon wrote for the ease of the pianist (or for any of the instruments for that matter), but out of an urge to expand the piano’s sonic capabilities into the evocative orchestral realm of say, film scores. In fact, throughout the entire CD, one found oneself constantly imagining what images and drama would accompany it all if paired with film.

The final work on the CD, La Makina (2007, premiered in 2008 at McGill University) has the greatest sonic variety of all, through the combination of two pianos (Salome Jordania joining Ms. Klionsky) in addition to percussionists Eve Payeur and Julián Macedo, with electronic sound by David Adamcyck. The composer’s description once again partially eludes this listener’s full understanding, including “the time polarity created by the use of ‘suspended time’ as opposed to ‘pulsed time’ and the premises of lightness and density created by the use of ‘frequency zones’ which are often poles apart.” That said, there is such an ear-tickling array of sounds from the percussion instruments and electronic effects, that one can appreciate it on that level alone. In around twenty-two minutes it builds to an absolutely nightmarish peak – including what sounds like the cracking of whips – and it is hard to miss the dramatic import on at least a basic level. The performances are impressive, as with the entire CD, and the recording, by Frédéric Prin at the Conservatoire à Rayonnement Régional de Rueil Malmaison, France, is excellent as well. 

All in all, this CD represents a formidable achievement both for the composer and for the performers. Audiophiles, particularly contemporary music and electronic music buffs, will surely want a copy. As a bonus, those with the physical CD will appreciate the cover art (acrylic on canvas, 1994) entitled “Music” by Marc Klionsky, an especially meaningful depiction by the father of the talented Elena Klionsky.

Éva Polgár, pianist

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 15, 2022

Éva Polgár made her second major Carnegie Hall appearance of the season this Thursday in a program entitled “Evocation” including some new and rarely heard Hungarian piano music at Weill Hall. Just a few weeks ago, on November 27, she had impressed this reviewer in a demanding program entitled “Carpathian Impressions” including collaborations with two other pianists at Zankel Hall (also reviewed in New York Concert Review: Carpathian Impressions in Review), but this concert was all solos. She is a powerhouse indeed, combining a winning stage presence, a flair for programming, and highly communicative playing.

Bearing the Hungary Foundation’s title of “Cultural Ambassador of the Year” Ms. Polgár has proven, through her study and performances of Bartok, Liszt, Kodaly, and newer composers, to be a strong advocate for the music of her native Hungary. In this most recent recital, there were important offerings by Franz Liszt and Zoltán Kodály (as she announced, Kodály’s 140th birthday was the next day, December 16th), but she also gave New York premieres of two newer works, one by Hungarian composer László Dubrovay (b. 1943) and one by Russian-born Arsentiy Kharitonov (b.1984), both of whom deserve to be better known here in the US.

Opening with Liszt’s soulful Sursum corda, the recital was off to an uplifting start (literally, with the Latin translation being “Lift up your hearts”). Ms. Polgar showed her gift for pacing and control as the music built from its quiet beginning to its peak. In the next piece, Le mal du pays (Homesickness), she impressed with her coloring of alternating soprano and tenor lines, which were appropriately haunting. It is said that when Liszt played, the music transcended the instrument such that “the piano disappeared,” and one always hopes for that sense in performances of his works. Ms. Polgár’s performance did weave a spell –  and only in one or two spots, where one wished for more seamless pedaling, did the complexity of the instrument itself reappear.

Les Jeux d’eaux à la Villa d’Este splashed all homesickness away in sparkling fingerwork, and Ms. Polgár was in her element. Often one hears the focus on one facet more than another – either more wash of pianism or more wringing of the harmonic beauty – but we were fortunate in her interpretation to hear it all.

Selections (Nos. 2, 3, and 4)  from Seven Piano Pieces, Op. 11 by Zoltán Kodály were a refreshing move to the twentieth century.  Composed from 1910 -18, they show a strong French influence, especially that of Debussy, following Kodaly’s visit to Paris. In the doleful No. 2 Székely lament, Kodaly uses changing meters, ties, fermatas, and frequent changes of tempo to achieve a parlando feeling, and a sympathetic interpreter is essential. Ms. Polgár was just that. She played with intense feeling and conviction, unruffled even by an extremely disruptive cellphone.

The third of the Kodaly set, It rains on the city, reflects even more French influence referring directly to Debussy’s 1887 setting of lines of Verlaine ” il pleure dans mon coeur comme il pleut sur la ville” from the Ariettes Oubliées (inspired as well by a similar line of Rimbaud). It was bewitching in Ms. Polgár’s rendition, with steady repeated piano “droplets” beating poignantly alongside melancholy melodic motifs. No. 4, Epitaph found her skillfully balancing its chant-like phrases against stony chordal accompaniment, closing the set with solemnity.

Kodály’s Dances of Marosszék (1927) brought the first half to a close in high energy. Rather neglected in live concerts, this work can be a tour de force but is hard to hold together with its rather disparate dances – plus considerable technical challenges, including some octaves that are perhaps not overtly showy but can be simply awkward. Ms. Polgár was more than up to the task, and her surrender to the moment gave a special inevitability to its transitions. The dreamy central section was meltingly beautiful. One hopes she keeps playing this, as it could become a signature piece.

After intermission came the two New York premieres and two more Liszt pieces. The first premiere was Hommage à Fellini (The Last Dream of the Clown) by László Dubrovay (2014). It opens with what sounds vaguely like the opening of Liszt’s Gnomenreigen heard through a haze of pedal. It progresses to a circus-like waltz which balloons into a style reminiscent of grand operatic paraphrases, with just enough dissonance to make all feel a bit “off” – as if Godowsky had been filtered through the aural equivalent of a funhouse mirror; obviously, with the title Hommage á Fellini and given Fellini’s filmography, that “off” feeling constitutes a success.  Naturally, there are hints of Nino Rota, composer for a multitude of Fellini soundtracks – and if there were not in such an homage, one would be shocked. Ms. Polgár handled it all with brilliance – and from memory, something one does not necessarily expect with contemporary works, but which certainly adds to the depth of the interpretation.

Between premieres, Liszt’s Concert Étude No. 2 in F minor (La leggierezza) was the perfect buffer – even if not this pianist’s best performance of the evening with minor momentary lapses. It was a good Romantic backdrop for the premiere of the more tonally adventurous Concert Etude Op. 44, No. 5 by pianist and composer Arsentiy Kharitonov. Mr. Kharitonov is an intriguing new presence on the musical scene, and his work as a pianist is undoubtedly helping him as a composer to create valuable new additions to the piano repertoire. Ms. Polgar (again without the score) handled this work’s arched shape with artistry  – from its quiet beginning to its blazing dissonant fireworks and back to its desolate close. Any composer is fortunate to have such an able advocate, and Mr. Kharitonov was present for a well-deserved bow.

Liszt’s Legende No. 2, St-François de Paule marchant sur les flots (St. Francis of Paulus walking over the waves) closed the program, strongly and with only minor “spillage” – hardly of concern as miracles take place. An enthusiastic audience gave Ms. Polgár a standing ovation and was rewarded with another piece composed by Mr. Kharitonov, Les Exercices Romantiques (for two fingers, one from each hand). Ms. Polgár quipped that she would just be using two fingers because she was “tired” – but her remarkable performance, sounding like ten fingers at least, suggested otherwise! Brava!

Philippe Quint and Stephanie Zyzak, violins;

Maurycy Banaszek and Paul Laraia, violas;

Adrian Daurov and Zlatomir Fung, celli;

Bohemian Hall at Bohemian National Hall, New York, NY

December 7, 2022

An unforgettable concert, combining six outstanding musicians in sextets of Tchaikovsky and Dvořák, took place this past Wednesday at Bohemian National Hall, part of the Aspect Chamber Music Series. As the founding Director of Aspect Music, Irina Knaster graciously thanked the sizeable crowd for coming, she remarked that, though there were many events to attend that night in New York, “you made the right choice” – she turned out to be exactly right.

Stepping into the Bohemian National Hall building on East 73rd Street is a bit like entering the home of nobility from some time in the 1890s, and thus it seemed a particularly appropriate place for the Aspect Chamber Music Series to present this week’s offering of two sextets from that era, the Dvořák Op. 48 (composed mostly in 1878) and the Tchaikovsky Op. 70, subtitled Souvenir de Florence (composed mostly in 1890). The hall’s Bohemian history suited the music of the two composers who blended a Germanic tradition with the music of more Slavic/Slavonic folk influence (as one common theme from the “Crossing Parallels” title of the evening). The feeling throughout was that of an intimate house concert, an unusually great one, and despite a full hall of well over 100 people, one could hear the proverbial pin drop.

All six performers listed credentials with serious firepower. Names that jumped out first included stellar first violinist Philippe Quint (whose multiple Grammy-nomination discography speaks for itself) and first cellist Zlatomir Fung, now known across the globe as the first American in four decades and the youngest musician ever to win First Prize at the International Tchaikovsky Competition Cello Division (2019). Violinist Stephanie Zyzak, violists Maurycy Banaszek and Paul Laraia, and cellist Adrian Daurov rounded out this illustrious group with impressive individual lists of prizes, principal positions, scholarships, festivals, and concerts. In the film world, they might be called an all-star cast.

Naturally, an all-star cast is not always what one wants in chamber music, as the players must be a team first and foremost; thankfully, here, they were. There have been performances of these works in which each player seemed to be vying for center stage, visually and aurally, and the effect especially in such complex writing is obnoxious, like a noisy conversation with too many speakers all at once. Sadly, some critics have thus called both works “busy” or “garrulous” – and the fact is that, because they are the bountiful outpourings of two miraculous melodists, both works rely on an ensemble’s ability to prioritize and know when and where to create a subsidiary texture, an issue too often overlooked. Also, large swaths within the works have to be kept to a lesser importance, lest the listener overdose on vicarious adrenaline.  (Perhaps, because of this profusion of material, the Tchaikovsky Souvenir has prospered for a century in string orchestra transcriptions, in which a conductor can more easily control the balance and shape.) Our evening’s artists, thankfully, met the challenges with resounding success.

In both the Dvořák and Tchaikovsky, the ensemble resembled a well-conducted orchestra or even a piano transcription in a way (by an expert pianist, that is), with a oneness of conception. While it did often seem as if the sextet by mutual agreement had determined Mr. Quint and Mr. Fung to be the leaders, their parts frequently prominent over subsidiary textures, that dominance was always inherent in the writing itself. These were performances of lucidity and proportion, with still ample opportunity ultimately for each player’s important lines to shine individually. This group went beyond being an all-star cast to be what one might call a “Dream Team.”

Highlights in the Dvořák were many but included (admittedly strangely) the beginning of the first movement’s development, where all was scaled down just perfectly before building back up – pianissimo but clear as a bell in each part. The Dumka was exceptional for its utterly natural flow in contrasting melodic outpourings, and again the phrasing and balance among players were sublime. The ensemble lit fiercely into the Furiant movement, with evident pleasure in its mellower trio section, and their last movement’s Stretta was an exuberant ride to the movement’s final Presto . Bravi tutti!

After an intermission, we heard a good prefatory twenty minutes about the music and life of Tchaikovsky from Ms. Knaster – comparable to what we’d heard about Dvořák at the opening, which I’d neglected to mention. At first, I had been a bit disappointed to learn that there were talks before each work, not mere introductory comments, but a twenty-minute-plus lecture about each piece and both composers’ lives. It seemed at first that the program notes by Stephen Johnson were enough – and, for a musician, the odds of learning something new about these very famous composers in a (presumably) layperson’s talk seemed slim; fortunately, I was proven wrong, and both talks were delivered with humor, some amusing visual aids, and several well-chosen anecdotes I had not recalled hearing before, with personal asides to lend a human touch to it all. Ms. Knaster drew the audience into these composers’ worlds, refreshingly and at times through the intriguing backdoors often ignored in fusty reference books. With such contextualizing talks as part of the series, it is no wonder that crowds are being drawn to this enriching experience. Aspect’s talks help audiences to know the composers – and the musicians help them to love the music.

Loving the music was easy in the Tchaikovsky Souvenir de Florence as played by our evening’s six musicians. It was launched with an Allegro con spirito that was hearty but not harsh, as it can be. The musicians built the energy to a perfectly synchronized stringendo and brilliant prestissimo which left the audience simply unable to restrain their applause. The Adagio cantabile movement next was striking for its chorale-like opening, played with minimal vibrato to set in relief its sensuous solo and duet lines to come. Though these operatic sections are naturally linked to Tchaikovsky’s Florence memories, the playing also reminded one that this sextet was written in years filled with the composer’s own ballet music – grace and momentum reigned.

The pacing was perfect, and the third movement brought the energy up a notch further. Incredibly rapid and amazingly synchronized saltando (bouncing) bowing was like a ballet in itself, and the energy was electric. Several times in this piece motives were passed down in such rapid succession from instrument to instrument that it was like hearing (and seeing) a musical chain of dominoes – riveting. The finale with its fugato writing built to an exciting and powerful finish, bringing everyone to their feet.

More about the Aspect Chamber Music Series, including upcoming events, can be found at their website: Aspect Music

Alexander Hersh, Cello; Victor Asuncion, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

New York, NY

November 30, 2022

It was an exciting assignment to review cellist Alexander Hersh, winner of the 2022 Pro Musicis International Award, as Pro Musicis has such an excellent track record with its winners; having now heard this winner’s recital in Weill Hall, I can say that this awardee is no exception. In a program entitled “Beyond Borders,” this young musician showed an openness and passion for all that he played, and, given the Pro Musicis mission to promote “visionary concert artists who awaken the human spirit wherever they perform,” he seems to be a fine choice.

He played a program of highly diverse composers – Claude Debussy, Paul Wiancko (b. 1982), Benjamin Britten, Robert Schumann, Fazil Say (b. 1970), and Giovanni Sollima (b.1962). Mr. Hersh’s artistic statement on the Carnegie website and the printed program said it all: “This program, entitled ‘Beyond Borders,’ traverses six distinct sound worlds with the cello as a guide. Invoking ancient instruments while breathing life into music of our time, the program probes sonic possibilities, both familiar and fantastical.”

Though Mr. Hersh, as the recent winner of Pro Musicis, tends to get “top billing,” one would be remiss not to give equal credit in all duos to the superb collaborative pianist, Victor Asuncion. It was Mr. Asuncion who played the first declamatory notes of the recital setting the tone for Debussy’s Cello Sonata in D minor. It was good to see the piano lid up on the full stick, as this was repertoire-wise a duo program (except for two contemporary solo cello works). As Mr. Hersh entered with his first big cello phrase, it was clear that the two players were well matched and quite attuned to each other. The duo captured Debussy’s shifting moods well – especially as it moved on through the Sérénade and the spirited finale.

Paul Wiancko’s Microsuite was the Pro Musicis commissioned work that all finalists were required to play, but Mr. Hersh’s performance here was the public World Premiere. As an introduction, the composer Mr. Wiancko writes, “It is exhilarating to discover music that unlocks something in us. As a young cellist, my first plunge into the rich darkness of Bach’s Fifth Suite for Solo Cello was deeply formative. I will also never forget the thrill of stepping into the worlds of Lutoslawski, Chick Corea, or Mahsa Vahdat for the first time. As I composed Microsuite, I channeled the thrill of these moments of discovery, and in the process enjoyed a renewed appreciation for the cello music that impacted me in my youth. I hope this little piece might serve as a reminder that there is always potential to gain a deeper understanding of ourselves simply by stumbling onto something new.” Some of the above influences could indeed be sensed, and, though this listener would probably need a second hearing of the piece to fully grasp it, Mr. Hersh’s enthusiasm for it was certainly infectious and went a long way in breaking any proverbial “ice.” He prefaced the piece by saying, “I consider myself Paul Wiancko’s greatest fan” and shared that he was absolutely “giddy” at the prospect of playing his work. He seems an ideal champion for this composer’s music, and the composer, who was present, took a bow afterwards to much applause.

Mr. Hersh had another tough nut to crack with Britten’s Cello Sonata in C, Op. 65, which closed the first half. This enigmatic piece is, as the cellist suggested “not easy listening” but even the neophyte listener could use his spoken descriptions as a guide to the five movements, from the Dialogo‘s “speech patterns,” to the almost comical variety of pizzicati in the Scherzo, to the bleak Elegia‘s hypnotic figures, to the energy of the Marcia movement (like the gait of someone “not particularly stable”), and finally to the Moto Perpetuo‘s demonic quality, “like a machine out of control.” All were realized expertly by this duo, right through to the dazzling octaves building to the rather “tacked on” sounding C major ending. This duo “sold” the piece.

While Mr. Hersh clearly has a mission to reach out to his audiences, that does not mean he does so at the expense of his own growth or exploration. In other words, there was no pandering. He chose a fair amount of repertoire that would be challenging even for the most experienced player to fathom, let alone to relay to experienced listeners, let alone to relay to the lay listener. The ability to project a conception was thus even more crucial than usual in this difficult repertoire. Thankfully, he did that extremely well throughout the evening,

After intermission, we heard a relatively tame version of the Fantasiestücke, Op. 73 by Robert Schumann (and sounding even tamer in the context of the rest of the program), and then two more contemporary selections, starting with Fazil Say’s Dört Şehir (Four Cities).

Turkish composer Fazil Say is something of a lightning rod for controversy, but his boldness in speaking up about his beliefs in the face of Turkish oppression goes hand in hand with the boldness of his music. Much of the intensity of Dört Şehir is attributed to its time of composition, 2012 when Mr. Say was facing a possible prison sentence. The third movement, Ankara, is filled with evocations of darkness and struggle and is almost unbearable to hear with its loud piano blows and extended techniques. The beauty of the trance-like opening movement, Sivas, lay in sharp contrast as did the jazz-infused final movement Bodrum. The second movement, Hopa, we are told is marked with something akin to “as fast as possible” – to which Mr. Hersh quipped “challenge accepted.” Accepted indeed! Much admiration goes to this duo for championing this deserving work.

The final work on the program was Giovanni Sollima’s Lamentatio (1998) for solo cello. The piece contains an encyclopedic range of extended techniques – plus chanting, wailing, and singing – as the cellist himself described it, “Gregorian chant meets Metallica.” It is not a piece for the shy or stodgy, but Mr. Hersh is neither of those. He took it on with gusto, as he did the entire program.

After rousing applause, he offered a piece by a musician he dubbed “everyone’s favorite encore composer” – Anton Webern (from his early cello-piano pieces of 1899). After some initial tittering, the audience appeared to enjoy this gently lyrical piece, showing that this cellist is already breaking down walls. It will be exciting to watch Mr. Hersh’s career.

Pro Musicis is to be congratulated once again. Incidentally, this concert marked the 100th Pro Musicis recital in Weill Hall, a great milestone to reach. Here’s to the next 100.

Eric Whitacre, Composer/Conductor; Kelly Yu-Chieh Lin, Piano

Featuring: Laurence Servaes, Sara Jean Ford, April Amante, David Castillo, Peter Kendall Clark, and

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 29, 2022

Holiday carols, the premiere of a Christmas opera by a Grammy-winning composer, and a charismatic conductor leading it all – what more could one ask for in a holiday concert? Perhaps a choir of angelic children onstage? Oh, there was that too. In their typically winning combination of the traditional and the new, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented a program Tuesday that featured Eric Whitacre conducting carols along with several of his own compositions, including the world premiere of the 2022 version of his Christmas opera The Gift of the Magi, based on the O’Henry short story – and it was a spectacular evening.

To start, the dashing Mr. Whitacre welcomed the audience with some light commentary, including sharing that the choruses of several hundred singers from all over the US and Canada had only met in person two days before to rehearse. Judging by their polish and unity, one would not have guessed, though they all were clearly well prepared by their regular local choral conductors and coaches who took a bow at the end. The first (smaller) chorus kicked off the evening with a crisp, energetic performance of Carol of the Bells (arr. Peter Wilhousky), and the tone was set for a festive night. Angels We Have Heard on High followed, in an arrangement by Donald McCullough which seemed to demand a tempo a bit slower than one usually hears, probably to allow its rich harmonies to speak – and it was enchanting.

Mr. Whitacre then conducted one of his own compositions, the well-known Lux Aurumque (Light and Gold), which  I first had the pleasure of reviewing in March of 2009 at the then Avery Fisher Hall (and there again in April 2018  when Avery Fisher had become David Geffen Hall). It’s enough to make one feel very old, but this transcendent piece itself never gets old, with its close harmonies creating a special shimmering sound. This Carnegie performance of it was all it should be, translucent and hallowed. The traditional American hymn Brightest and Best (arranged by Shawn Kirchner) closed this group of songs,  hinting at the Magi theme to come with its mentions of myrrh and gold.

Clad in bright red, the New York City Children’s Chorus filed onstage next, including some very young singers (certainly some in the single digits). They joined in two pieces, the ubiquitous Christmas Time is Here (Vince Guaraldi, arranged by Robert Sterling), sung with an airy innocence, and a longer second piece that Mr. Whitacre’s jokingly called his own Christmas oratorio, The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus. As angelic as the Guaraldi classic is, The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus is the opposite, all about a naysaying little brat named Jabez Dawes (think the Grinch, but younger). Set to hilarious verses by the inimitable Ogden Nash, it added just the right vinegar to the program’s predominant sweetness, bearing out the old saying that playing the villain can be the most fun. The piece is spiked with musical tauntings (the descending third “nyah-nyah” motif), plus twisted bits of Carol of the Bells, Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy, and a final Joy To the World as Jabez meets his well-earned comeuppance from Santa Claus himself. It was delivered with great relish and unfailing support in its demanding piano part from Kelly Yu-Chieh Lin, who was a pillar all evening.

On a side note, I hope that Mr. Whitacre’s exploration of Nash continues – as I recall with joy reviewing also his Nash-based Animal Crackers in 2009 (and with more recent “encores” by DCINY) and just know there must be more up his sleeve. Meanwhile, he channeled that zest for entertaining into his commentary between pieces, and, as hundreds more choristers filed onstage during the planned “Pause” (no actual intermission), he managed to regale us through all of it with what he called his “three-martini story” about the origins of The Gift of the Magi, a story shared traditionally by his family.

Before the long-awaited premiere of the Magi revision came one more piece, Mr. Whitacre’s celestial and aptly named Glow, a piece that has gained a huge following as part of his Virtual Chorus project, attracting many thousands of participants. It was reviewed in this magazine in 2019 – and was given a beautiful performance at this concert as well.

And at long last, The Gift of the Magi closed the program. At just thirty-five minutes, it is more compact than the word “opera” may suggest to many, and as ever Mr. Whitacre chose great material. For those who haven’t read it, O’Henry’s 1905 story tells of a young struggling couple, Della and Jim, and their frustrating secret searches for Christmas gifts for each other, resulting in Jim’s parting with his watch to buy Della combs, and Della’s selling of her hair to buy Jim a watch chain – both gifts rendered nearly useless. After such a chain of frustrations, the importance of selfless love emerges as the lasting message (contrary to this New Yorker’s proposed takeaways of “buy on credit next time” and “don’t forget your receipt!”).

Mr. Whitacre’s musical setting matches the story’s trajectory well, featuring strenuous recitatives, difficult leaps, and dissonant melodic intervals through the struggling, wishing, and searching, plus exciting rhythm and momentum to capture the hustle and bustle of shopping. Really in the entire thirty-five minutes, nothing relaxed musically (despite my occasionally wishing it would) until the very end, where it settled into Mr. Whitacre’s characteristic lyrical magic as Christmas arrived. Until then it seemed that the recitatives dominated, and even the more arioso sections had a recitativo quality. Momentum prevailed, which is probably a good thing for a piece that will be programmed as one of many selections in concert.

The singers were excellent, especially Laurence Servaes as Della and David Castillo as Jim. Ms. Servaes was simply flabbergasting in her stratospheric soprano leaps as she beheld gifts of gold to buy for her love, and David Castillo, though given perhaps fewer vocal feats of prowess to take on, was superb as the devoted Jim, with a burnished beauty to his tone. Naturally, coming at the end of a choral concert, there were no props to set the scene, but the ensemble created the drama and – with the music of course – guided the listener’s imagination. Peter Kendall Clark excelled with comical inflection as the overzealous Shopkeeper trying to sell watch chains, and Sara Jean Ford and April Amante were just right as the “difficult” women in the hair salon. This work should find itself on many Christmas programs, assuming that equally qualified singers can be found. That may not be easy.

Congratulations go to everyone involved in this remarkable evening, and kudos as well to the following participants: Chapel Hill High School Concert Choir (NC), Christ Episcopal Church Chancel Choir (FL), Greeley Central High School Choir (CO), Kimberly High School Choir (WI), LaGuardia High School Senior Chorus (NY), New York City Children’s Chorus (NY), VOENA Children’s Choir (CA), West Bloomfield High School Choirs (MI), Whippany Park Madrigal Singers (NJ), and individual singers from around the globe.

Éva Polgár, piano; László Borbély, piano; Gábor Varga, jazz piano

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 27, 2022

A fascinating recital was put together this Sunday at Zankel Hall by pianists Éva Polgár, László Borbély, and Gábor Varga, focusing on music from what was termed “Carpathian” regions of Europe – to include music of Béla Bartók, Zoltán Kodály, and Franz Liszt, with improvisations by Gábor Varga.

I expected strong performances from Ms. Polgár, whom I last heard in November of 2019  (in an excellent trio with violinist Kristóf Baráti and clarinetist Bence Szepesi), and I was not disappointed. What’s more, the entire recital was eye-opening (or “ear-opening” one should say) in its traversal of music highlighting connections among these three composers. Bartók and Kodály have been routinely linked by their shared national music, but Liszt has tended to tower over the world of Romantic piano as a solitary, cosmopolitan genius belonging to no single country or school; it was thus refreshing to hear selections of his – especially his three Csardas and Sursum Corda (in addition to the oft-played Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6) – which, by their placement on the program, were shown to foreshadow the work of Bartók and Kodály in matters of tonal language, rhythm, and repetition.

Speaking of program placement, one quibble Sunday was the degree to which the program order was altered from what was printed, so much so that there were several announcements through the evening of switches along the way (not in repertoire, just sequence), and my program was covered with a roadmap of arrows. Much of the repertoire I know by ear, but because of rapid introductions, the order of improvisations on six Hungarian Folk melodies by Gábor Varga remained a blur. More on those later. It seems that for such an important venue, the program order should be tightened up before printing.

On to the music, the evening started with a fiery performance of Bulgarian Rhythm, the first piece from  Bartók’s Mikrokosmos for two pianos, Sz. 108 (arranged by the composer himself from his one-piano version). László Borbély joined Ms. Polgár for it in what proved to be a superb two-piano pairing. They followed with #2, #6, and #3 from this same set (closing the whole program with the rest). I was going to describe the next as characterized by chords and trills – but Bartók took all that fun away by calling it  – you guessed it – Chords and trills.  The same applies to Chromatic invention and Perpetuum mobile – all played with expert synchronization.

Mr. Borbély followed with Bartók’s famous Allegro Barbaro, showing not just a fine technical grasp but a stylishness and freedom in delineating phrases, rather than the robotic approach one hears too often. He followed this with Bartók’s Improvisations on Hungarian Peasant Songs, Op 20, alternately quiet, deeply felt, and dancelike.

It can’t have been easy to follow such polished performances of notated music with music yet to be improvised – and I’m not sure how fair it is to the improviser to place the two together on a program – but that challenge fell to Gábor Varga who played next (several of his six improvisations, don’t ask me which – though the evocative titles mentioned birds, a village, a forest, wells, a poor man, and the Danube). Mr. Varga has a keyboard facility that incorporates the repetitive dreamy textures one associates with “New Age” music, along with jazz in a more percussive and virtuosic vein. Some of his improvisations exploited tremolos that brought to mind the cimbalom, an instrument commonly associated with Hungarian music, and some seemed simply to drift and explore at great length. Moments were emotional and evocative but other more diffuse sections, which would have been “par for the course” in a jazz lounge setting, were a bit taxing to an audience in the midst of crystallized and practiced compositions – especially as the evening progressed. One high point was an apparent fragment of a key motif from Allegro Barbaro, which we had just heard – thus tying the program together.

Ms. Polgár capped off the first half with Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6, faring beautifully with the repeated octaves for which the piece is famous – or infamous, to pianists. Occasionally, as with many pianists who are focused on the perils in the right hand, she could have devoted a bit more care to some left-hand parts, but all in all, it sent us joyfully into intermission.

The second half opened with more from Ms. Polgár, starting with Liszt’s Sursum corda, from Book III of Années de Pelerinages. It is a late and rather exploratory work, which happened to attract Bartók (and there exists a recording of him playing it). With its unusual use of whole tones that anticipate twentieth-century French music, it led well to the next piece, Zoltán Kodály’s Meditations on a theme by Debussy (1907). It also hearkened back to the Allegro Barbaro in some motives – among the remarkable connections throughout the evening. Kodály’s winsome Valsette, with its comical pentatonic passagework, closed Ms. Polgár’s group.

More improvisations from Mr. Varga followed, leading to the three Liszt Csárdás from 1881-4, played by Mr. Borbély (Csárdás, Csárdás obstinée, S. 225, and Csárdás macabre, S. 224). These are pieces requiring vigor, even obsessiveness, and Mr. Borbély played with almost maniacal virtuosity.

The previously omitted Mikrokosmos for two pianos closed the program, finding Mr. Borbély and Ms. Polgár teaming up again in an irresistible collaboration. As a bonus, Mr. Varga burst onto the stage to start at one piano what became a three-pianist reprise of the opening Bulgarian rhythm of Bartók, complete with some seat-switching antics from the Borbély-Polgár side of the stage. It would have been even more delightful had the entire program been shortened by at least thirty minutes. Including intermission the concert had run well past 9:30, having started at 7:30. No matter how great any performers may be, to extend the time to this point is asking too much from an audience, particularly in this frequently percussive repertoire. Sometimes less is more. A second encore followed posthaste, which I could not follow to the end, having just headed for the escalator.

November 23, 2022

Last week I happened upon some great music played by pianist, Javor Bračić, one of many pianists I’ve reviewed in my sixteen-plus years of writing for New York Concert Review, and it was heartening to see how well this fine young musician has weathered recent global trials and tribulations to keep going. His performance spurred some reminiscing about the many others who have filled my evenings with music for a decade and a half – “alums” for lack of a better term – and it seemed as good a time as any to poke around and ask where some are now. When I’ve occasionally written that “I’ll look forward to following this artist’s career” I’ve meant it.

To follow are a few very short updates about a handful (well, ten – so two handfuls) of “alums” from the past decade and a half. To avoid the obvious, we’ll skip updates for musicians already very much in the public eye when reviewed, such as Barry Douglas (2005), Denis Matsuev (2007), Jon Nakamatsu (2007), Carlo Grante (2014, 2015), Ian Hobson (2016), Charles Neidich (2018, 2019), and The King’s Singers (2018).  Also, we’ll limit the scope to pianists – and just a few at that – but there should be more to come periodically.

Going back to a 2006 assignment, a striking experience was hearing Aimee Kobayashi who was around age 10 at the time, showing “the phrasing and professionalism of an adult” on the stage of Carnegie Hall. (These were in the days before NY Concert Review went online, so was print only.) Now in her twenties and on the competition circuit, Ms. Kobayashi has won 4th prize ex aequo in the most recent International Chopin Piano Competition (XVIII, in October of 2021). One can hear her impassioned performance of Chopin’s E minor Concerto on the organization’s website (as well as numerous strong performances on YouTube), and she was clearly a formidable competitor. Sixteen years ago, as a young child, she had already played with great self-assurance Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata Op. 13, and three Chopin works (Etude in G-flat Op. 10, No 5, Impromptu No. 1 and posthumous Nocturne in C-sharp minor) – possibly with even more self-assurance then than now, as with maturity and depth can come questioning – but it is all a musician’s journey. If memory serves, most striking in 2006 had been her opening, the posthumous Chopin Nocturne – and it is touching to note that she reportedly revisited it recently as an encore in a recital. My archives invite a separate retrospective on the prodigies I’ve reviewed, but suffice it to say that Ms. Kobayashi’s early promise has continued bearing fruit.

A dynamo I first heard in 2006, Ching-Yun Hu impressed with Chopin Rondo’s in E-flat, Op. 16 playing “with elegance and flabbergasting fingerwork. Speaking in terms of sheer technical brilliance, I don’t recall being as amazed even by Horowitz’s performance of the same work.” Working now with the next generation, Ms. Hu has founded the Yun International Music Festival in Taipei and the Philadelphia Young Pianists’ Academy which presents the PYPA Piano Festival and Young Virtuosi (intensive recitals, master classes, and guest lecture series). Besides her performing, master classes, and residencies, she is currently on the piano faculty at Temple University in Philadelphia.

Francesco Piemontesi, whom I reviewed in 2008, had dazzled his audience with a stunning performance of Three Pieces from the Firebird (arr. Agosti), still a vivid memory. In addition to his pyrotechnics, I had written glowingly of his “unique and important musical voice,” and I would stick with that based on subsequent hearings. He has since embarked on too many exciting projects to name, with a highlight being his launch of a major Schubert cycle at the Wigmore Hall in London starting in October 2019. I would love to have heard this, but will just hope for more on “this side of the pond.” For the 2020-2021 season Mr. Piemontesi was engaged as artist-in-residence at the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande in Geneva.

Sara Daneshpour impressed this reviewer for the first time at age 21 in 2008, sharing “musical gifts that are simply undeniable.” She had already made her mark in numerous competitions, but since then continued to shine, including as the 3rd prizewinner of the 2017 Arthur Rubinstein International Piano Competition.  She has been featured in prominent halls and nationwide on 160 public radio stations, including WGBH in Boston. She recently played Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini with the Alexandria Symphony (February of 2022), and one can only hope there were recordings made of it.

Spencer Myer struck this listener immediately in 2009 with his Handel, Copland, and Janáček,  and it hardly required an oracle to call him “an artist to watch” (though naturally I did) with his already substantial credentials including a debut CD on Harmonia Mundi USA. Since then, he has performed extensively, notably with cellist Brian Thornton, released four recordings on the Steinway & Sons label, and performed with orchestras too numerous to name. This spring (2022) he was appointed Associate Professor of Piano at Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music.

Nataliya Medvedovskaya has flourished musically since appearing in 2011 in a program of contemporary works at Bargemusic, where “it was clear that the pianist herself felt complete commitment to each one, playing all with thoughtful involvement, projection, and polish.” Her own ballet music was just one of many compositions, and not surprisingly she has kept composing along with performing. A year ago shared her remarkable new composition, her Barcarolle for flute, harp, violin, viola and cello, which one can experience on YouTube.

One of the great pleasures of reviewing came with being assigned to Egyptian-American pianist Wael Farouk (2012), whom I described as “something of a star already, with a career that has included … the Egyptian premieres of Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 3, Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2, and Prokofiev Concertos Nos. 1, 2, and 3.”  In the spring of 2021, Dr. Farouk was one of the stalwarts performing right through the pandemic, and he performed Rachmaninoff’s concerti Nos. 1, 2, and 3 in a single evening with the New Philharmonic Orchestra under conductor Kirk Muspratt, a concert which the Chicago Tribune music critic described as a “history-making concert.” Upcoming performances include a Bach triple concerto performance in NYC (Miller Theatre) December 8 with Awadagin Pratt and Simone Dinnerstein. (Dr. Farouk is now on the faculties of Manhattan School of Music and Roosevelt University.)

On a sad note, it should be mentioned that my list of review subjects – rather the piano world – has suffered substantial losses with the passings of Natalia Strelchenko in 2015 and Lloyd Arriola in 2016. Ms. Strelchenko, gifted London-based pianist, had come to the US to conquer the colossal challenge of playing all of Liszt’s Transcendental Etudes in a row at Weill Hall in 2007 – as half of a recital (with various Norwegian works on the other half).  Those owning her CD of the Liszt Etudes may be assured, in this day of extreme editing technology,  that she navigated the same, live in concert, in a nearly Olympic musical feat. Her passing was a tragic one, but her music lives.

The conductor/pianist Lloyd Arriola,  whom I reviewed in 2011 and 2015 was not just a terrific pianist but also a huge force in NY musical life. It seems appropriate that the last time I heard him was in his “Leonard Bernstein Remembered” extravaganza for which he had served as “producer, collaborative pianist, and occasional vocal complement to twenty accomplished singers in selections from Bernstein’s operettas, musicals, and other vocal works.” Mr. Arriola had a passion and exuberance in sharing music that reminded one very much of giants such as Bernstein. With brilliance not just in his pianism but in his communication about music (exhibited in some of the most appealing program notes I’ve ever read), he would have continued to boost NY musical life tremendously, had he lived.

Now to return to the living – which is what many of us musicians feel we are trying to do each day now – I’ll return to the impetus for this retrospective, Javor Bračić, whom I reviewed in his debut solo recital in 2013 and in a subsequent chamber concert. My rediscovery began when I happened to stumble via the Internet last week on an exquisite performance that Mr. Bračić had given of  Study No. 1 (1754) by Croatian composer Luka Sorkočević, and I later learned that Mr. Bračić was in the midst of all-Croatian recitals that same week. One was at LeFrak Concert Hall at Queens College, which the college streamed and has posted, and one not very highly publicized one was at the 92nd Street Y where I was fortunate to be present last Friday. Talk about hidden gems (something New Yorkers seem great at finding), an eager crowd listened in the Warburg Lounge (in conjunction with the Himan Brown program), simply devouring Mr. Bračić’s combination of off-the-cuff lecture and high-level pianism (not an easy combination, as anyone who has tried it will attest). He played and spoke about a tantalizing array of short works by Luka Sorkočević, Ferdo Livadić, Dora  Pejačević, Božidar Kunc, Boris Papandopulo, and Ivo Josipović, all fascinating discoveries and mostly new even to this reviewer, a denizen of libraries and archives. As individual audience members approached Mr. Bračić afterwards bursting with enthusiasm (many of them students from his lectures there), he listened with genuine interest, making them feel like the active participants that listeners should be.  One can only hope that the larger series this pianist created, “The Art of Listening,” will resume in full force soon, as his approach is exactly what the classical music world needs.

Well, there is not time or room for more than this random handful of “alums” – and random it is, be assured – but there will be more to come from time to time. You’ll simply have to check back!