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!

Péter Tóth, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Sunday, October 9, 2022

Throngs of music lovers this Sunday traded afternoon sun for a 2 PM Weill Hall concert amid strangers with Covid masks and a program of intense, often dark, piano music of Franz Liszt (including the weighty Funerailles, the dark Ballade No. 2 in B minor, and the ponderous Chappelle de Guillaume Tell). Why, you may ask? Well, it appears that many knew in advance what kind of musicianship and virtuosity awaited, and it seemed well worth the trade. Though this reviewer is new to the pianism of Péter Tóth, it soon became clear that there are very good reasons he has such passionate supporters, including some who were ready to argue heatedly over the last orchestra seats, as overflow moved up to the balcony. (Though it always mystifies me to witness cantankerous behavior in pursuit of something as pure as, say, the music of Abbé Liszt, in a way it is heartening – suggesting possibly an urgent need for such live music, as opposed to the overhyped Auto-Tune shams that pass for music these days.)

Though the elegant and softspoken presenter Adam Gyorgy could barely be heard over the commotion to introduce the concert, he spoke glowingly from the stage about his friend Mr. Tóth, for reasons we would soon learn. Incidentally Adam Gyorgy is a fine pianist himself, whom this listener had the pleasure of reviewing back in 2011 – so with him, Mr. Tóth, and some others, the pianistic talent in the hall was approaching what might be termed “critical mass.”  As for Péter Tóth, the printed program lists some of his important prizes (including from the Franz Liszt International Piano Competitions in Budapest in 2001), as well as recordings and concerts, but more biographical information can be found at his website, petertothpianist.com. In addition to the credentials and brilliance that we have come to expect from young prizewinners, we heard music-making of true passion and intelligence as well as profound dedication.

The Chapel of William Tell from Années de Pelerinage (Years of Pilgrimage) made a grand opening, a noble tribute to the legendary hero in a struggle for independence  – and as resonant in today’s turbulent world as ever. Mr. Tóth captured its declamatory power to a tee, shaping its phrases with conviction and fine gradations of tone. This was not the blitz of brilliance that the uninitiated might expect at a Liszt recital but rather the musical meditation of Liszt the dreamer. Waldesrauschen (or Forest Murmurs) followed flowingly as a balm – a good programming choice, and one well suited to the hall piano with its rich middle register and rather glassy upper register. The performance was a model of balance and control.

The more substantial works came next, starting with Funerailles, and it was here that the expressive range and power of this pianist became clear – as well as his expert pacing. He showed that he is able to sustain a slow build for long stretches while keeping power in reserve to unleash at a work’s peak. Much credit here of course goes to Liszt himself, but even after years of hearing Funerailles, this listener still found surprise in the mounting left-hand triplets and ensuing octaves. They seemed simply effortless in this pianist’s hands – dazzling but with all focus on the music itself.

The Ballade No. 2 in B minor (written in 1853 just a few years after Funerailles) created still greater storms, with its ominous chromatic bass surges and explosive traversals of the keyboard. Not to dwell simply on the overt technical display, what impressed again was the control in shaping the music. Where called for, Mr. Tóth tapered his melodic phrases masterfully in every dynamic range. At several points, for example, pianissimo tones were prolonged such that,  even when one thought it impossible to fade further, they resolved to still quieter ones – still projecting to the back rows. This listener apparently had a kindred musical spirit in the admiration for such control, as each time such a remarkable diminuendo occurred there as a slight gasp from a seat nearby; one need not be attuned to such wizardry to enjoy the magic, however, and the entire audience was silent in reverence (those little gasps notwithstanding).

More oceanic surges came in the Légende No. 2, St François de Paule Marchant Sur Les Flots (St. Francis of Paulus Walking over the Waves), and again the pianist was in his element. Mr. Tóth’s saint walked perhaps more stolidly and metrically than I’ve generally heard, so a few times one might have wanted just a shade more “stopping to smell the roses” (or aquatic flora in this case), but ultimately Mr. Tóth’s conception was persuasive. There was at the work’s peak just the triumph one wanted, so it is hard to argue about the path getting there.

The Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6 capped off the program in celebratory style. For those unfamiliar with this particular Rhapsody, it is the one with such rapid repeated octaves in the right hand that a pianist playing it might land himself in ER if not careful. It is only for the fearless, and Mr. Tóth was just that, with perhaps just a touch of his characteristic restraint at the octaves’ start to pace the excitement. It was a brilliant and altogether exhilarating close to a superb recital and was met with a hearty standing ovation.

An encore of Paderewski’s Nocturne in B-flat was the final reward, and it was meltingly beautiful. A man who before the concert had barked at someone “will you stop that?!” now appeared transported, eyes closed with a faint smile, while a woman in a wheelchair near me seemed to be nearly standing up to see better. Great music in the right hands can be transformative. Congratulations go to those who make it happen.

“In Search of Lost Time”

Jingci Liu and Wenting Yu, Pianists

OPERA America’s National Opera Center, Marc A. Scorca Hall, New York, NY

July 30, 2022

In the last weekend of July, GOCAA Artists Concert Series (Global Outstanding Chinese Artists Association) presented a recital of two of their winners, pianists Jingci Liu and Wenting Yu at the National Opera Center’s Scorca Hall, and listeners were treated to exciting solos and duos from both. Both are winners of a variety of awards, and both are working for their Doctorate of Musical Arts degrees. Ms. Liu is currently studying with Dr. Angelina Gadeliya at the University of Connecticut. Mr. Yu is studying with Dr. Vladimir Valjarevic at Mason Gross School of the Arts at Rutgers University. Ms. Liu and Mr. Yu were graduated from the Mannes School of Music in New York City where they each achieved the Master of Music degree under the tutelage of Mme. Pavlina Dokovska. They are married and have played duos together since 2016. For full disclosure, this reviewer was out of New York for the concert so could not attend, but a video recording of the live performance was provided.

Ms. Liu opened the program with music by three female composers, Clara Schumann, Amy Beach, and Cecile Chaminade. First came Clara Schumann’s Soirées Musicales, Op. 6, written when the composer was just sixteen. The music is a set of six pieces full of yearning and youthful dreaming, from which Ms. Liu chose three, starting with the Nocturne, continuing with the Mazurka in G minor, and ending with the Toccatina (which originally opens the set). Ms. Liu revealed sensitive shading overall through the Nocturne, a flair for improvisatory whimsy in the Mazurka, and just the right urgency in the impassioned Toccatina.

Dreaming, Op.15, No.3, by Amy Beach followed with no break for applause, but Ms. Liu took a substantial meditative pause beforehand. Her unhurried approach suited this miniature just right, affording her time to lavish its lyrical lines with care. Cecile Chaminade’s bristling Toccata, Op. 39, closed the set energetically with lots of perpetual motion pianism. 

The next segment found Wenting Yu introducing his portion of the program, including three Preludes of  Claude Debussy, Voiles (Veils), Ce qu’a vu le vent d’ouest (What the West Wind Saw), and Feux d’artifice (Fireworks). Mr. Yu probed the magic of Voiles beautifully, with every detail in place. Like Ms. Liu, he clearly revels in a large range of sonorities. His Ce qu’a vu le vent d’ouest was fittingly stormy, and Feux d’artifice benefited from his precise touch and control at high speed.

The Étude, Op. 28, No. 2 by Robert Casadesus felt like an encore after all the storming Debussy, and it lightened the mood with its jaunty spirit. The fact that it is an octave study seemed insignificant, as its challenges were handled with aplomb – close in mastery to that of the composer’s wife, pianist Gaby Casadesus, whose recorded rendition set the standard. The rapidfire Étude Op. 28, No. 8 and the Toccata, Op.40 capped off Mr. Yu’s solo group brilliantly. If this reviewer recalls correctly, this Toccata was a required piece several decades ago for the Cleveland International Piano Competition when the competition still bore the name of Casadesus. It is thus especially refreshing to hear this work take its rightful place on a stage without any taint of duress. Mr. Yu is to be commended for exploring this lesser-known repertoire, and for doing so expertly – as is Ms. Liu with her selections by women composers.

The second half of this concert featured the two pianists as a four-hand team in a tantalizing array of arrangements of orchestral works by Rachmaninoff and Debussy. To start came one penned by Wladimir Wilschau of the second and third movements of Rachmaninoff’s glorious Symphony No.2 in E minor. Devotees of the orchestral original may balk at the idea of such grandeur being “reduced” to the realm of four-hand piano writing, but doubters will enjoy a threefold epiphany. First of all, Wilschau’s is an excellent arrangement, which has simply remained in relative obscurity since its publication in 1910. Secondly, the tonal palette available to two highly trained pianists on a single piano can be much greater than many imagine. Thirdly, the sensitivity of the Yu/Liu duo, both to the composition and to each other’s performance, creates a cohesive and compelling performance that is hard to resist.

Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, as arranged by Maurice Ravel, was equally evocative of orchestral color in this duo’s hands, as was Debussy’s Dialogue du Vent et de la Mer (Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea) from La Mer, arranged by the composer himself. (For those interested, the duo swapped Primo and Secondo roles several times – Ms. Liu playing the Primo part in the Rachmaninoff second movement, with Mr. Yu Primo in the third, and then Ms. Liu playing Primo in the Afternoon of a Faun, with Mr. Yu as Primo in La Mer.)

Hearty applause was generously rewarded with two encores, both ones with “novelty” appeal. First was Qui vive! (1862) by Wilhelm Ganz (1833-1914), an illustrious but now rather forgotten musician who happened also to be an accompanist to singer Jenny Lind. A joyous romp, the piece galoped its way to an exciting finish in perfect synch through myriad tempo tweaks. It is the perfect test piece for a married duo in a way, each player needing to adjust pace and mood at the bat of an eyelash or the twitch of a finger. Suffice it to say that this duo passed with flying colors.

The second encore was by Tal Zilber‘s Brahms in Salsa, a saucy play (pun intended) on the Brahms Hungarian Dance No. 5 (with even a few gratuitous quotations from Beethoven’s Für Elise towards the end).  Though this duo needs no gimmicks, such campy touches undoubtedly will please crowds as this duo tours, as will their introductory remarks (though some of those warranted a bit more planning). The only part of this concert’s “packaging” that really didn’t work for this reviewer was the rather strained subtitle for the whole program, “In Search of Lost Time.” Despite catchall comments from Mr. Yu about remembrance, wishes, and the spirit of the repertoire (and despite the fact that some audiences need something extra-musical to think about), one found oneself looking for a copy of Proust’s masterpiece and a shoehorn; in all other respects, however, congratulations are in order for a fine recital.

Pianists: Evelina Ania Kleczek, Owen Yisu Wang, Chihaya Inaba, William Petrarch Hsieh, Anh Nguyen, Taige Wang, Kanae Maeda, and Delvan Lin

DiMenna Center for Classical Music 450 W 37th St, New York, NY 10018

July 24, 2022

It has been a privilege for roughly fourteen years to watch the growth and continued success of the Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition, hearing young pianists on their paths to the world’s stages, and this year’s event was no exception. The TIBC, as it is shortened, was conceived in 2003 by pianist Golda Vainberg-Tatz to honor her mentor, the celebrated Bach interpreter Rosalyn Tureck (with Dr. Tureck’s blessing shortly before she passed away), and events have now taken place in 2008, 2010, 2013, 2015, 2017, 2019, and the current year, 2022.

Just beholding the list of prizes and honorable mentions is overwhelming, with eight repertoire categories (Category 8 being the monumental set of Goldberg Variations), all with different age limits within the overall range of 8 to 28.  For example, Category 1 (the Short Preludes, Preludes and Fugues, and Fantasies) is for an age range of 8-12, while Category 2 (Inventions and Sinfonias) runs up to age 15, with other categories going up to 20 or 28 (except Category IV, which is divided by two age ranges and also by specific repertoire choices from among the Partitas and other Suites). Whew! It takes patience to process, but the judges are the ones needing to master it all – and they seem to have done quite well!

As the top prize in eight repertoire categories is called the Rosalyn Tureck Prize in each case, all can get a bit confusing, but it appears that there was no such prize awarded this year in Category 1 (Short Preludes, Preludes and Fugues, Fantasies), Category 7 (Recital), or Category 8 (The Goldberg Variations). In Categories 2-6 the Rosalyn Tureck Prize was awarded (shared in two cases) to William Hsieh,  Taige Wang, Evelina Kleczek, Owen Wang, Kanae Maeda, Delvan Lin, and Anh Nguyen. In addition, there was a Contemporary Music Award (cash), shared here by Chihaya Inaba, Evelina Kleczek, Kanae Maeda, and Taige Wang. A special award named for pianist Olga Kern was shared by William Hsieh and Taige Wang (the Kern Foundation “Aspiration” Award), and last but certainly not least, the Evgeny Kissin Grand Prize/Steinway Award, was awarded to Delvan Lin. For more details one can visit Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition.

To open the Winners’ Concert, we heard Evelina Ania Kleczek (age 13, USA, Category 3- Preludes and Fugues; TIBC Contemporary Music Award), playing the noble Prelude and Fugue in C Major (BWV 870) from Book II of the Well- Tempered Clavier. Her playing showed remarkable maturity, poise, and control. She let the music speak for itself simply and directly without overthinking  – a refreshing performance, especially in the stressful context of a competition. Her voicing in the Fugue was particularly commendable, along with her crisp articulations and judicious pacing.

Owen Yisu Wang played next (age 14, Canada, Category 3 – Preludes and Fugues), offering (rather surprisingly) Felix Mendelssohn’s Op.35, No 3 in B minor, with its unrelenting Prelude and equally rigorous, thorny Fugue. This remarkable young pianist is to be congratulated on faring so well in this demanding piece, though one can’t help wondering how he resisted some of the other more interesting, expressive pieces in this opus – perhaps the fact that this B minor one is lesser known was part of the allure. At any rate, it was impressive in its highly disciplined digital evenness. In all the driving staccato notes of the Prelude, it could have perhaps benefited from a more dance-like feel, but all in all it was excellent. One looks forward to hearing this talented pianist in repertoire that shows a greater variety of musical facets.

Up next was Chihaya Inaba (age 14, Japan, TIBC 2022 Contemporary Music Award and Honorable Mention in Category 2 – Inventions Sinfonias, Duets), who brought the program into the present day with music of William Bolcom (b. 1938), specifically the “Hymne á l’amour” (2009) from 12 Etudes Book IV. A stirring and musically demanding piece that sets a haunting repeated 8-note motif against poignant  dissonances and builds to a powerful emotionalpeak, it was an unusual choice for such a young player. Mr. Inaba gave it his profound involvement – a surprise and a joy to hear in one so young – and the Contemporary Music Award seems quite justified.  One is still left curious to hear his Bach, the raison d’être for the competition, but one suspects that his interpretations would be equally personal and compelling.

Still more music of our day followed, with Kapustin’s Sonatina Op. 100 (composed in 2000) as played by William Petrarch Hsieh (age 12, USA, Category 2 – Inventions, Sinfonias, Duets; the Contemporary Music Award; and the Kern Foundation “Aspiration” Award). This piece, like so much of Kapustin, is highly jazz-influenced but without actually being jazz (as Kapustin was known to articulate when speaking about his music). Mr. Hsieh’s performance here brought out its saucy flavor, and it was pure fun. The Sonatina is not at all easy, but Mr. Hsieh played it with such technical ease and a sense of the idiom that it felt “tossed off” – a striking thing to behold in a pianist age 12. When combined with some subtle movements of a jazz “pro” one almost had to laugh with delight. One repeats to oneself: age twelve.

As terrific as the twentieth and twenty-first-century selections were, it was a joy to return to the honoree of this competition, J. S. Bach, in the hands of Anh Nguyen (age 14, Vietnam, Category 6 – Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, Italian Concerto, Sonatas). She played Bach’s magnificent (and difficult) Toccata and Fugue in G Major, BWV 916, handling its contrapuntal challenges extremely well. Her rendition will undoubtedly feel more and more settled as she lives with it, but it had much to offer. She gave it a brisk and authoritative opening, a sensitively wrought Adagio, and a percolating fugue. It will be a pleasure to see where music leads this young player.

Music of Bolcom returned next, specifically the Nine Bagatelles (1996) in the hands of Taige Wang (age 11, China, Categories 2 and 5 – Inventions, Sinfonias, Duets, Various; Kern Foundation” Aspiration” Award; and TIBC Contemporary Music Award). These Bagatelles, unlike the more overtly jazzy and accessible music of the same composer, are quite craggy, dissonant, and hard to grasp even aurally, so it was especially astonishing to hear them so well played by an eleven-year old! Mercurial mood changes, extreme dynamics, and elements of atonality all contribute to the difficulty of this set, but young Mr. Wang was up to all of it. One can see why he received the “Aspiration” Award and looks forward to more from him.

Kanae Maeda (Age 19, Japan, Category 4A – Suites and Partitas), participated virtually from Japan but made a fine showing, first with selected dances from Bach’s English Suite No. 3 in G minor BWV 808 and then with Rain Tree Sketch II (1992) by Toru Takemitsu (1930-1996). The Bach was well controlled and meticulous, with an emphasis on the motoric energy in the Prelude, and a similarly metric Gavotte I. The Gavotte II with its gentler turn to major and slight easing up of tension was thus especially welcome –  and also nicely ornamented. Her control and clarity in the Gigue were exemplary. She definitely has a grasp of consistency of voice and texture  – a good thing – but it may be time to look for more ways of varying the sound while projecting phrases. She certainly found tonal variety in the Takemitsu piece – and it was rendered with utmost personal expressiveness – and with the color befitting its dedicatee Olivier Messiaen.

It says a lot that, as I passed the hour mark of hearing these winners and was starting to ask that inevitable question (“how much more is there?”), the final performer had me immediately wanting the music to continue. The pianist grabbing my attention was Delvan Lin (age 22, New Zealand, Category 4B -Partitas 2,3,5,6, and French Overture; the Evgeny Kissin Grand Prize 2022, and the Steinway Award 2022). From the very opening phrases of his Toccata from Bach’s Partita No.6 in E minor BWV 830, this was Bach from the human soul – no metronomes in sight, though with a perfect grasp of the music’s human pulse. There was infinite variety, as is inherent in the music itself – though such range is not always found by all pianists. Each climb, each descent, each sequence, each gesture served to reveal the monument in music that Bach created, and yet we the listeners lived fully in each moment, as should be the case. The result was breathtaking. No note was without feeling, and no phrase was without shape, and yet the overview remained one of proportion and thoughtfulness. Bravissimo!! Before I drown in superlatives, I’ll add that the subsequent Sarabande and Gigue held that high standard, though the Toccata basically eclipsed all. There can be no regrets in choosing this winner, and I truly look forward to hearing him again!

Congratulations go to the jury for their discernment – including for the finals Emmanuel Krasovsky, Andre Laplante, Linda Petrikova, and Jerome Rose. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that the description in the above paragraph could describe some of the performances I’ve heard by Rosalyn Tureck herself. One can only imagine how proud she would be, were she here to behold this legacy.  Congratulations go to all involved – the jury, the young performers, the patrons, and to the tireless director of it all, Golda Tatz. Bravi tutti!

Douglas Knehans, composer; Brno Philharmonic Orchestra, Mikel Toms, conductor;

Pavel Wallinger, violin; Judith Weusten, soprano; Katarina Knehans, text

Ablaze Records AR-00062

A stunning new recording of orchestral music by Douglas Knehans (b. 1957) found its way to me this weekend, and one can safely say that I will be rehearing it (and other works) by this extraordinary composer. Quite a lot of music finds its way to my desk (frankly, much of it not so memorable), so perhaps amid the clutter and noise one may be forgiven for never having heard anything by Mr. Knehans until now, despite his formidable credentials. Those credentials include flurries of performances by prominent ensembles and artists (Opera Australia, Melbourne Symphony, Susan Narucki, James Tocco, Awadaggin Pratt, and Gareth Davies, to name a few) and extravagant praise from the press (Audiophile, BBC Magazine, and The New Yorker), plus a profusion of awards and academic distinctions too many to name here. His educational credentials (Australian National University, Queens College – CUNY, and Yale University), have included scholarship studies with noted composer/teachers Thea Musgrave, Lukas Foss, and Jacob Druckman. To learn more about Mr. Knehans, one can visit his website www.douglasknehans.com. Meanwhile, a fitting introduction exists right on his home page, on which he states: “I just want to write music that touches people, that is immediate, that is powerful, colorful and dramatic.” Mr. Knehans, you are succeeding at precisely that.

On to the recording at hand, the word “powerful” is apt. Both of the two works included, Mist Waves (2019) and Cloud Ossuary: Symphony No. 4 (2019 – with Donemus publishing site saying 2018), are steeped in the human experience of searching and sorrow, and yet both, through the inspired writing itself, are deeply consolatory. Comparisons in music tend to do a disservice to all, but, for the sake of readers wanting a quick characterization, the noting of kinships can be helpful. Sections of both works remind one of Górecki’s Symphony No. 3 in their sheer spaciousness of harmonic unfolding and the deft handling of dissonance and bleak subject matter. There are hints at times of what resemble postminimalism in the harmonic pacing, but at other times the music seems to hearken back flickeringly to Stravinsky and Bartok (as in the more driven percussiveness in the first movement of Cloud Ossuary). The bottom line, though, is that Mr. Knehans seems to follows his own star and cannot be lumped in with any particular school or movement. What makes his music compelling is the thoroughness and sensitivity with which he develops ideas and emotions of importance to him – and to us all, one imagines.

The opening of this CD, Mist Waves, is a piece for solo violin and strings, with the solo part here played superbly by violinist Pavel Wallinger. Slightly under eight minutes in length, it is arguably the most immediately appealing piece of the release, transporting the listener miraculously to another world through its soaring melodic material over haunting repeated patterns. The composer himself describes it as a “kind of loose chaconne” and continues as follows:

“Mist Waves is really about land-based cloud and how this forms in waves, sometimes thick and predictable and at other times lightening up and revealing more to us. This serves as a metaphor for me of a type of human consciousness and how things are known and unknown to us in mixtures of known and ungraspable.”

It is surprising on first hearing to read that Mist Waves was originally conceived as a piano-violin work, because its pacing seems to cry out for instruments of a more sustained nature, such as the strings heard here; clearly much is owed, though, to the violinist of its original piano-violin version, Madeleine Mitchell, who was also the dedicatee. In this orchestrated version, it is hard to imagine it played more exquisitely than Mr. Wallinger does in collaboration with Maestro Mikel Toms and the Brno Philharmonic Orchestra. The balance of timbres is masterful, and the sound places the listener somewhere between the heart of the ensemble and the heavens, undoubtedly thanks in part to the engineering of Jaroslav Zouhar and mixing and mastering of multi-Grammy Award-winning Silas Brown.

The second work (and title work for the CD), is Cloud Ossuary: Symphony No. 4, and it is as harrowing as the title suggests in its three movements of increasing depth, darkness and duration (with the third movement lasting twenty-six minutes). The final movement, entitled Bones and All, is, as the composer states, the “center of gravity” of the work. He writes that he composed it first, having been seized with inspiration after reading the poem of the same name  by his daughter, writer Katarina Knehans.

The poem, sung from the viewpoint of one tending to a land of death and grief, is harrowing in its explicit imagery of bones and destruction (“blood-soaked fingers” and “rotting carcass, burned and branded by the world”), but after reaching a cataclysmic frenzy a transformation begins, which – despite the devastation – eventually arrives at the closing line, “We are loved by the sun, bones and all.” It is not exactly a “feel good” ending (as, after around twenty minutes of agony, we hardly trust happiness), but it is, nonetheless, a post-cathartic relief of sorts as the protagonist chooses not to leave this wasteland but to find what the composer describes in his liner notes as “a place of light and love, nurturement and peace.” This work seems especially timely right now, despite the fact that death and tragedy are not a recent invention – it is music of healing.

The singing, by Dutch soprano Judith Weusten, is nothing short of mind-boggling. Each time this reviewer asked herself, “is such writing truly idiomatic for the human voice?” the answer would come, “but Ms. Weusten did it – ask no more.” In stratospheric leaps, piercing wails, and tremulous swooning descents, she showed that she can nail any pitch while traveling to Hades and back emotionally. Her range dynamically is staggering and in need of no manipulation; the one place, in fact, in which a decrescendo seems simply too extreme to be natural (end of the first verse on the word “you”) one wonders whether there wasn’t perhaps some audio manipulation that could have been subtler. Ms. Weusten’s diction is excellent throughout as well, though in the few places where the music is simply too high or melismatic to make out the words exactly, that fact may be merciful. One can always read the text separately and grasp the meaning filtered through the music. Just as the music embodies the pain of a painful text, it also transforms it, just as the protagonist in the poem transforms death and grief.

The rest of the Symphony No. 4 truly seems to exist to serve the above-described final movement, though the first movement, The Ossein Cage is spectacular in its own right. Intended to suggest efforts to escape “an imagined cage of dead bone” as described in the composer’s notes, it employs claves and other percussion to evoke the rattling of the cage, building to a fever pitch. To describe the second movement, Breathe Clouded,  Mr. Knehans suggests “a dream in the clouds – the dark clouds of something coming.” He also states that he did not want to overshadow the last movement but to create a “foggy antecedent” – which is just what it does, and quite atmospherically. All in all, for music lovers who are not “faint of heart” but seeking an experience as cathartic as a powerful play or film, this recording is highly recommended.  

Kudos to all involved in this exciting release.

Bela Horvath, violin soloist; David Winkler, conductor;

Ensemble:

Violins 1: Bela Horvath (concertmaster), Mialtin Zhezha, Jessica Park, Ye-Jin Han

Violins 2: Regi Papa (principal), Ann SunHyung Kim, Haesol Lee

Viole: Matthew Cohen (principal), Daniel Lamas

Celli: Jacqueline Choi (principal), Molly Aronson

Double Bass: Kyle Colina

Mary Flagler Cary Hall, The DiMenna Center for Classical Music, New York, NY

May 10, 2022

It takes a special kind of bravery to direct a classical music performance organization through a pandemic, but I’m happy to report that Chamber Players International (CPI) has successfully done just that. Under the direction of composer/conductor David Winkler since 2000, CPI not only survived 2020 and 2021 intact while many organizations did not, but it has bounced back from 2022’s surprises as well. Given a last minute cancellation of their April 26th concert due to two performers’ illnesses, they were able to reschedule for this past Tuesday, May 10 (a potential nightmare in hall re-bookings, press, etc.). They came through with flying colors. One would expect low attendance for a rescheduled concert, but most seats were taken by avid listeners.

Their program Monday included mostly “new” music for lack of a better term, including a string quartet (2011) and violin concerto (2005) by American composer Steven Gerber (1948-2015), a quartet (2015) by composer/CPI Director David Winkler himself , and the premiere of a work commissioned especially by CPI entitled Sanctuary City by “Doctuh” Michael Woods, a noted composer/bassist/educator who has had his works performed by important orchestras and ensembles nationally. In addition to the newer fare, we heard one of Schubert’s isolated quartet movements, the Quartett-Satz D. 703 in C minor from 1820 – also called the String Quartet No. 12.

The Schubert Quartett-Satz launched the program with intense energy. It is a single movement, which for some reason Schubert did not expand into further movements (except for roughly forty surviving measures of a subsequent movement). Given the notorious chaos of Schubert’s manuscripts throughout his life, it is a safe guess that he meant to return to this “satz” but that necessity took him elsewhere. It is an exciting piece, and it was given a bracing performance by CPI’s quartet for the evening, consisting of violinists Bela Horvath and Regi Papa, violist Matthew Cohen, and cellist Jacqueline Choi. One realized in hearing these excellent players what an incredible resource CPI holds. With strong quartet players at the core of their larger ensemble, they can present concerti and quartets in the same night, opening up possibilities for programs of unusual variety. This Tuesday’s was one of those.

Following the Schubert came Steven Gerber’s String Quartet No. 6. Maestro Winkler introduced it as a “Zen-like” piece, and one can understand that reaction. At times, certain repetitive figures even brought to mind the writing of some minimalist composers, but in general, these figures are part of a musical fabric subsidiary to the work’s overarching lines, with highly expressive melodies coming to the fore (not terribly different from classical quartets of earlier centuries). At times one wanted a rebalancing of parts, as the “fabric” occasionally dominated, but all in all the piece’s fascinating qualities came through. It is commendable that CPI introduces listeners to this relatively little-known music. They chose four superb performers who honored it with their involvement.

Michael Woods came to the stage next to introduce his commissioned piece, Sanctuary City for String Ensemble. Preparing the listeners, he explained that his desired sound (often without the expected vibrato) was that of the creative “cauldron” of his ideal city, a city that one day could serve as a safe place to foster the work of musicians and artists of all styles and backgrounds  – just as his own background blended orchestral classics of Mozart and Beethoven, Gospel, the Blind Boys of Alabama, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Motown, and more. To illustrate his blend with some humor, he sang a phrase of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, the first time straight and then with a “funky” feel. The audience was rapt –  as must be the students of “Doctuh” Woods at Hamilton College.

Sanctuary City as a piece of music proved to be as inspirational as the idea behind it. There were times when all the ensemble members seemed so individual and independent in this melting pot of “musics” that one wondered whether they could possibly converge – and sure enough they did in perfect synchronization where called for. Especially powerful and unifying were bass lines – not surprisingly, given the composer’s background playing bass. Double bassist Kyle Colina was an important presence, along with the evening’s cellists. Kudos to the “Doctuh” and the entire ensemble, and special congratulations to CPI for commissioning the work!

After intermission came Steven Gerber’s Two Lyric Pieces for Violin and String Ensemble, essentially a two-movement concerto, in which violinist Bela Horvath shone. Mr. Horvath wins the Most Valuable Player award for the evening for having not only served as first violinist and concertmaster through all the other works but also as soloist here. Opening in a low register unaccompanied, he was in his element from the very first notes, bringing a deep burnished tone to much of the ravishing first movement. The entire ensemble was radiant and in excellent balance as led by Maestro Winkler, who had mentioned earlier (by way of explaining the absence of a baton) that with a smaller ensemble he could sculpt the sound with his hands – and he did just that. Particularly impressive was the second movement Passacaglia with different instruments taking turns carrying the line. They all did a tremendous job.

After so much outstanding music-making, it was of great interest to hear the conductor’s own String Quartet No. 4 to close the program, and it did not disappoint. Starting with a motive that resembled the Dies Irae chant, albeit a frenzied version with expanding intervals, it developed over its long course into quite an exhaustive journey, providing ample challenges for the listener as well as a vehicle for these fine players. Some stunning playing here came from cellist Jacqueline Choi, who was also a contender for my own MVP list throughout the evening. She provided a solid gold foundation for every single one of these difficult works –  and always, amazingly, with pitch that never faltered.

CPI can feel quite proud of this latest concert, and one looks forward to hearing much more from them. Bravi tutti!