Jiayin Li, piano

Samuel Torres, Percussion

Mikowsky Recital Hall, Manhattan School of Music, New York, NY

January 25, 2022

Call it making lemonade when life deals out lemons, but the Manhattan School of Music has made the best of the pandemic situation with an array of live-streamed performances that would make a diehard concertgoer want to stay home and listen. https://www.msmnyc.edu/livestreams/

Among performances this week was a recital by excellent young pianist Jiayin Li, a pupil of Solomon Mikowsky, esteemed professor for whom the evening’s venue was named. Ms. Li is a candidate for the Doctor of Musical Arts Degree at MSM, and though this recital was listed as a “non-required” one, her program of Cuban piano music goes hand in hand with a dissertation she is writing on the subject, including an annotated collection of the music performed. Under the guidance of Solomon Mikowsky, Cuban-born and a longtime proponent of his country’s music, Ms. Li clearly chose her dissertation topic well, and this listener could hardly wait to hear the eighteen listed Cuban composers from the nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first centuries.

The program enjoyed a festive start with Niña con violín (Girl with a Violin) by Ernán López-Nussa (b. 1958).  Supported with excellent percussion by Samuel Torres on bongos, Ms. Li dove headlong into the music’s spirit,  with none of what might expect to be opening nerves.  The music enjoyed dreamy moments, but with support from Mr. Torres there was an undercurrent of dance rhythms throughout.

Going back to the 1800’s Ms. Li gave appealing renditions of Two Contradanzas by Manuel Saumell (1817–1870), first Los ojos de Pepa (Pepa’s eyes) and then El pañuelo de Pepa (Pepa’s Handkerchief). Direct and unassuming folk-like music with rather reined-in use of syncopation, these are close in style (and vintage) to the music of Louis Moreau Gottschalk (who enjoyed several trips to Cuba). Each has a rather self-effacing ending which Ms. Li tossed off with appropriate understatement. Well done!

Next, moving on to Ignacio Cervantes (1847–1905) came two contrasting Danzas, the soulful Adiós a Cuba (Farewell to Cuba) and to follow it No llores más (Don’t Cry Anymore). Adiós a Cuba was given a sensitive, involved performance, nostalgic and impassioned without being excessive or maudlin. To follow it with the consoling No llores más was a beautiful programming touch, and the playing was captivating.

As a side note, it is hard to write even a review of these pieces without expounding on the details of these interesting composers and how their lives intertwined; it is therefore nearly impossible to see how a doctoral candidate could resist writing program notes for this concert. They would surely have been helpful and enjoyable to many.

A festive spirit resumed with La conga de medianoche (The Midnight Conga) from Six Afrocuban Danzas by Ernesto Lecuona (1895–1963). For those who immediately associate Lecuona with his Malagueña or other popular pieces, La conga de medianoche is rather different in its jazzy evocations of a tropical midnight procession, with spicy dissonances adding a good bit of humor.

In a drastic mood change (great programming leaving not a dull moment), we heard Canción de cuna del niño negro (Lullaby for the Black Child) by Amadeo Roldán (1900–1939). A haunting lullaby with plaintive melody over a hypnotic tritone bass pattern, this lullaby is not one for carefree dreaming (its spirit, though not its harmonic language, bringing to mind the Delius Lullaby for a Modern Baby and other ponderous “modern” berceuses). Ms. Li established its haunting atmosphere from the start and held the audience spellbound.

The tempo and mood lightened up for Con un viejo tres from Sones by Carlo Borbolla (1902–1990). Though one might have expected something more sedate with the word “viejo” (old), a “tres” is a kind of small Cuban guitar – and one can still make a spirited sound on an old instrument! Ms. Li’s interpretation verged on the brisk as did some other pieces – and she could certainly afford more taking of time – but there may have been reasons to move the evening along.

This Sones selection was in any case well played, delivered like a wry story, with surprising twists and turns and the occasional “arched brow” musically. It led perfectly to Danza cubana No. 10, “Machacando” (Cuban Danza No. 10, “Pounding”) by Félix Guerrero (1916–2001). Despite the suggestion of “pounding” Ms. Li played with what was emerging in her performances as a characteristic elegance. Perhaps the translation set up an expectation of something more unleashed, but in any event, it was a joy.

What one expected next (as it was printed in the program) was Berceuse campesina (Peasant Lullaby) by Alejandro García Caturla (1906–1940). It is a piece close to my heart, so fortunately I knew something was amiss with the program order when it did NOT come next. (If the very brief opening remarks from the stage manager had perhaps been to clarify a program change, they were nearly inaudible, and so one was relying on the printed program.) Not to be curmudgeonly, but it is not pleasant to be floundering around to disentangle program order while listening (especially as an assigned reviewer), so the downloadable program ought to have been changed. Suffice it to say that one hopes, particularly in the case of a doctoral candidate, that leaving the audience in a haze of confusion is the opposite of what one wants to do in sharing music.

What actually came next was Zapateo Cubano (Cuban Stomping) by Héctor Angulo (1932–2018). It was alternately jaunty and lilting,  all in all, a winning performance – and it was after the Angulo that we heard the beloved Caturla Berceuse, and it was played with soulful involvement, a pleasure.

Somehow one missed the Guajira (Peasant Song) Harold Gramatges (1918-2008) – was it omitted? Just another communication glitch for the lost audience? In any case, the program moved on like quicksilver to what this reviewer knew to be Cabrera Moreno, No. 7  from Ten Bocetos (Sketches) by Leo Brouwer(b. 1939). Ms. Li dove into it with ferocity, seeming to relish its motoric patterns. In a similar vein was Tumbao by Tania León (b. 1943), also displaying a powerful finger technique and rhythmic precision.

Just when one couldn’t imagine Ms. Li continuing without a “breather” she proceeded to the tour de force that is Caleidotropic (Kaleidotropic) by Guido López-Gavilán (b. 1944). Complete with extended techniques, strumming inside the piano, tapping, and dramatic vocal chanting (with some remarkable singing as well), Ms. Li fearlessly “knocked it out of the park” as they say, leaving her audience dumbfounded before intermission.

The second half of the concert, by comparison to the first, was a relative breeze. A piece by Jorge Lopez Marín (b. 1949) entitled Marileny started somewhat strictly in two voices, then opening up into a freer, jazzier quasi-improvisatory exploration. Following Marileny was a piece called ¡Que Confusión De Tonos! (What A Tonal Confusion!) by Andrés Alén (b. 1950) – actually much less confusing than figuring out what piece was what on the program –  but with tonal shifts well within the range of what one has come to expect from 20th-century music (and 21st). All in all, it was an interesting romp through tonal surprises and “good clean fun” as they say. Habanera Del Ángel (Angel Habanera) by José María Vitier (b. 1954) was just as its title suggests, a soothing and gentle habanera with an intense middle section.

Nearing the program’s end we heard the third piece from El Libro De Música De La Ciudad Celeste (The Music Book Of The Celestial City) by Juan Piñera (b. 1949).  Once again it appears that there was a slight mix-up, as the title of No. 3 was listed as Hacia Una Región De La Luz (Towards A Region Of Light), which seems to be a different movement from what we heard. It seems that what we heard was Como un sol que se derrumba (still No. 3). At any rate, Ms. Li showed in it more of her impressive motoric energy and passion.

Rounding out the program as it began, we enjoyed more percussion collaboration with Samuel Torres on congas joining Ms. Li in, Pan Con “Timba” (Bread With Timba) by Aldo López Gavilán (b. 1979). After a bravura percussion introduction from Mr. Torres – truly virtuosic! – the two musicians took us on one final and fantastic Cuban romp. It was a wonderfully festive finish to the evening, and only the iciest soul would not want to dance to it in celebration.

Ms. Li concluded the concert by graciously thanking her professor in a clearly well-deserved tribute.  Bravi tutti!

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

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

Zeze Xue, pianist

Bruno Walter Auditorium at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

November 19, 2021

A large crowd came to hear young pianist Zeze Xue this week in a program that included Chopin’s B minor Sonata, Debussy’s Ballade, selections from Goyescas of Granados, Tan Dun’s Eight Memories in Watercolor, and the Liszt Concert Fantasy on Bellini’s La Sonnambula. There was much to admire and enjoy, from the brilliance of the Liszt to the multicolored evocations of the Tan Dun, and the warm and receptive audience appeared to appreciate it all, rewarding the pianist with loud ovations.

Opening with Debussy’s much neglected Ballade, Mr. Xue captured well its mood of reverie. I was struck by his dramatic projection of the opening phrases which pulled the audience, after the noisy lines to show vaccination cards and all, into his quiet conception. His shading was sensitive and nuanced, and his immersion was compelling as he let the spell of the piece take hold. His expressive physical gestures, which some might call extraneous, did serve to punctuate phrases visually, probably intensifying the experience for some.

We heard more of this atmospheric playing on the second half in Quejas, o La Maja y el ruiseñor (“The Maiden and the Nightingale”) and Los requiebros (“Compliments”) of Granados, both very well suited to this performer. His expressiveness bloomed in the direct lyrical lines of the lamenting Maja, projecting well its plaintive spirit. In Los requiebros, a deceptively thorny piece to play, the thematic lines are easily outweighed by secondary pianistic material, like a too heavily laden strand of jewelry, so there were moments here where one wanted more prioritizing of the line over the decoration; all in all, though, it was effectively played.

A performance highlight for this listener was the set of Tan Dun’s Eight Memories in Watercolor. From the somber opening, Missing Moon, through the meticulously articulated Staccato Beans, attention to detail was excellent. That same level of devotion continued, from the rustic melancholy of Herdboy’s Song to the magical Floating Clouds and the vivid splashes of the finale, Sunrain. It is just such personal commitment that can set a young artist apart from his peers, so though one has tended to associate these pieces with Lang Lang who premiered them, they could become signature pieces for this pianist.

Though the Chopin Sonata in the first half had had some distinctly individual qualities as well, it somehow did not fully win over this listener as a whole. There was a slightly labored quality in the first movement (sometimes described by musicians as “notey-ness”), as if it had not been lived with quite long enough to gain natural freedom and flexibility (and this quality was underscored by the dryness in pedaling). There were also some quirks of tempo and tone that broke the flow, hindering the cohesion of this already sprawling movement, and though one still saw the physical hand gestures demarcating phrases, the aural experience did not always match the visual (with perhaps the hall piano being to blame at times).  

Surprisingly in the Chopin, the extreme slowness of the Largo – and even the Trio section of the Scherzo – gained points for bravery from me, though they “pushed the envelope” as the saying goes. Performances of the Scherzo movement usually maintain some momentum throughout, but here it felt like the Trio section within was its own separate slow piece. In the Largo, that slowness suspended time nearly to a halt. The pandemic perhaps has the world adjusting everyone’s sense of time, but in any case it was refreshing to hear a performer unafraid to try a slower than usual tempo in a slow movement. Some adjustments to pedaling and tone in sustaining the line will help make this interpretation more convincing. The Finale brought the work to a rousing close just as it should, bringing the music to the “five-minute” break that substitutes for full intermissions lately.

The entire evening was capped off in bravura fashion with the Liszt’s Fantasy on Bellini’s La Sonnambula, and here it seemed that one could best hear the benefits of Mr. Xue’s illustrious roster of teachers, including Craig Sheppard at the University of Washington and Solomon Mikowsky and William Wolfram at the Manhattan School of Music, from which he graduated with an MM degree in 2019. It was an impressive performance, with passion and grandeur.

Zeze Xue clearly has much going for him – not the least of which is a winsome stage presence – so it will be interesting to follow him. Still more winsome was his encore of Debussy’s La fille aux cheveux de lin, a touching close to an auspicious recital.

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

Robert Fleitz, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 18, 2021

Pro Musicis presented pianist Robert Fleitz in a highly auspicious debut before a large masked audience this Monday at Weill Hall, continuing their established tradition of presenting outstanding musicians on prominent world stages as well as in charitable venues. A program that included three world premieres, plus works by some lesser-known composers (including five women) was immediately intriguing. The only two works by “mainstream” composers were the Bach Invention No. 1 (BWV 772 in C Major) and the magnificent Brahms Klavierstücke Op. 118, with the balance of the program being music by Unsuk Chin, Maria Martines, Timo Andres, Krists Auznieks, Julia Perry, Julie Zhu, Lūcija Garūta, and Jeffrey Mumford.

Robert Fleitz, a graduate of the Juilliard School (B.M. and M.M.), lists in his biography the usual awards and prizes, one of course being the Pro Musicis 2021 International Award which resulted in this performance; there seems very little, though, that is usual about this eclectic pianist.

It was an unusual choice to open with Bach’s little Invention in C Major, which is heard more at young students’ recitals than professionals’ programs, but one guessed that the Invention was programmed to illuminate the next work, entitled Etude No. 1 (In C), by Unsuk Chin (b. 1961) a pupil of György Ligeti. That guess was correct. In a surprise “non-ending” Mr. Fleitz let the penultimate dominant harmony of the Bach fade without resolution (part heresy, part genius), and omitted the final “C” harmony to proceed attacca to the Chin Etude. That expected tone C, desired but unheard, transformed the way one heard the subsequent Etude. As Dr. Richard Rodda points out in his excellent program notes, Ms. Chin’s Etude is not so much “In C” as much as “On C” with the pitch C repeated amid “increasingly dense constellations of flickering sound-points.” Those “constellations” can make this piece a challenge for the ears, but thanks to “C” being etched in one’s mind from the Bach, one felt its magnetic power throughout. It was a masterstroke of programming by an innovative musical thinker.

Apart from programming gifts, Mr. Fleitz proved to be an excellent pianist in diverse repertoire, including the next work, the Sonata in G Major by neglected Haydn pupil Maria Martines (1744- 1812). The playing was crisp and light with Scarlatti-esque brilliance that verged on breathlessness but stayed on course with hardly a smudge. The last movement was particularly exciting.

After this refreshing return to classicism, the program ventured again into the 21st century for the world premiere (Commissioned by Pro Musicis) of a beautiful work, Honest Labor by Timo Andres (b. 1985). As the composer writes, “Honest Labor attempts to uncover a kind of Transcendental satisfaction in routine tasks. A simple contrapuntal process gives rise to increasingly elaborate and expressive gestures, finally evaporating in an ambiguous haze.” I often find these days that the notes by composers are more evocative than their music itself, but I am happy to report that this music spoke as eloquently here, like a winding journey inviting closed eyes and reflection. Mr. Fleitz seems to have made it a part of himself, even in his printed comments which stated “I am grateful for the chance to share my honest labor with you, and look forward to hearing about where your path through this landscape led you” (the latter part referring to Jeffrey Mumford’s piece yet to come, “a landscape of interior resonances”).

Mr. Fleitz has the gift of being able to deeply internalize his music while projecting equally well his vibrant conceptions, so I was eager to hear his Brahms Klavierstücke, Op. 118. He did not disappoint. From the impassioned opening Intermezzo in A minor to the ponderous closing Intermezzo in E-flat minor with its Dies Irae thematic connection, he held his audience rapt through all six pieces. His pacing of the G-minor Ballade‘s central section was well-conceived, and his sensitive rendering of the Romanze, with its glimmers of Lydian, was magical. I didn’t always agree with his pedaling, which seemed overly generous at times (especially in the second Intermezzo, but also at times in others, leaving me wishing that his curiously active left foot would switch with his right), but this is a debatable and personal quibble. His youthful penchant for extremes also led to some arguably harsh high points in the final piece, but I would opt for passion with some excess any day over the weak tea of many other pianists.

After a five-minute pause (the new pandemic “intermission”), we heard another world premiere, Time Present by composer Krists Auznieks (b. 1992) who happens to be Mr. Fleitz’s husband. The background of this piece is a bit lengthy to summarize in a simple review, but suffice it to say that the piece married other-worldly harmonies (bringing some colors of Messiaen to mind) with flashes of Scriabinesque ecstasy, all a good match for Mr. Fleitz’s all-embracing pianism.

Prelude by Julia Perry (1924-1979) offered a bluesy detour and chance to hear a seldom heard composer, and it was followed by the world premiere of a piece entitled Other of Two by Julie Zhu (b. 1990), inspired (and accompanied by a lengthy description of) the Tunguska meteor event of Siberia in 1908. Mr. Fleitz conveyed well its eeriness, devastation, and desolation.

In a surreal change of mood, the program shifted over to 1920’s Latvia and Paris, via the lush late Romantic Prelude No 2 in E Major by Lūcija Garūta (1902-1977), a Latvian who studied with Cortot and Dukas and reflected still more Scriabin influence. Mr. Fleitz was a persuasive advocate for her work, as for all that he played, including the concert’s finale, the three-movement work, a landscape of interior resonances by Jeffrey Mumford (b. 1955). Mr. Mumford describes this work as “a celebration of the piano as a sonorous resonating chamber” and it certainly did put the pianist through his paces in fiendish feats of complex virtuosity (not to mention memorization).

A standing ovation prompted an encore, and Mr. Fleitz chose the third of the Improvisos Op. 18 by José Vianna da Motta, dedicating it to his mother on her birthday with special mention of her Portuguese parents. It was a beautiful return to folk-inspired music and a special way to bring “home” this musical journey. I would hear a Robert Fleitz concert again in a heartbeat and look forward to following his career.

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

DongYeob Kang, violist, YoungSung Park pianist

The Artist’s House in Seoul, South Korea

Streamed live and available on YouTube.com

July 26, 2020

Among the many valiant musicians who have kept music going through the pandemic, there ought to be a special award for those who fulfilled their commitments to live concerts – intrepid winners of “The Show Must Go On” awards. Noteworthy among such performers is Parisian-born Korean violist DongYeob Kang, who with pianist YoungSung Park performed a richly varied recital of Bruch, Prokofiev, York Bowen, and Paul Coletti (b. 1959) for a live audience of masked but enthusiastic listeners in Seoul, South Korea, July 26, 2020. That concert was live streamed and is still available via YouTube using the following link: DongYoeb Kang in Concert July 26, 2020

For detailed information on Mr. Kang the reader may visit his website www.kangviola.com, but for a bit of background, Mr. Kang has received an substantial list of prizes and distinctions, has performed in numerous well-known festivals and venues including Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall in New York (2018 debut), and is currently pursuing his doctorate with fellowships at the University of Texas at Austin. He is also a graduate of Indiana University as a student of Atar Arad and holds a Bachelor’s degree from Yonsei University in Seoul where he studied with SangJin Kim. In addition, he recently completed his Artist Diploma at the Colburn Conservatory of Music in Los Angeles where he studied with Paul Coletti, who composed two of the pieces on the program, Fantasia for Solo Viola and From My Heart.

Mr. Kang gets kudos for his choice of works on this sumptuous program, starting with the underperformed Romanze for Viola and Piano in F major, Op.85, by Max Bruch. Though scored for viola and orchestra, it works beautifully in recital with viola and piano. Mr. Kang’s sound here is warm and well-controlled, and he shows a true affinity for Bruch’s Romantic spirit. There are moments where one might want a bit more abandon, where some phrases seem to cry out for more momentum, but it is overall a pleasure to hear. It doesn’t hurt that this soulful 1911 work is being played on a soulful instrument from the same year, a 1911 Giovanni Battista Gaibisso viola.

Moving on to an arrangement by Vadim Borisovsky of Sergei Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet, Op.64, Mr. Kang is again impressive. The arranger Borisovsky was himself a fine violist, a performer and professor at the Moscow Conservatory, and he knew well how to simulate the optimal orchestral range of colors with two instruments. This whole suite is a delight, and Mr. Kang seems to relish the virtuosity and wide variety of colors and timbres right from the Introduction. Brisk bowing and finger-work enhance the Young Juliet movement’s playful spirit, and the duo’s contrasting lyricism is effective as well. The third movement of the suite, the Dance of the Knights (also known as The Montagues and the Capulets), storms just as it should, with much credit going to the pianist YoungSung Park who sets the fierce tone of the opening chords, maintaining a sure orchestral foundation while synchronizing beautifully with the viola. Mr. Park again deserves praise for the final Balcony Scene where he is something of an unsung hero, unassumingly handling its complex textures and considerable demands. The two performers work admirably together. For Mr. Kang, what will raise this suite to an even higher level will be to let it transcend beyond the viola challenges to embrace an even broader orchestral conception. Part of that will include relaxing with some of the less intense viola parts to enjoy what “the rest of the orchestra”- i.e., the pianist here – does.

One of the highlights of the program, Paul Coletti’s Fantasia for Solo Viola, follows, essentially a three-minute cadenza with plenty of fiery display. Perhaps because of its solo improvisatory nature or the fact that Mr. Kang studied with the composer, Mr. Kang seems especially at home with this piece. It has a fresh, free-wheeling quality, and lots of panache. Similarly comfortable is the next work, From My Heart, also by Paul Coletti. Mr. Park rejoins Mr. Kang for this much more meditative piece, and the two seem to savor its nostalgic mood, somewhat reminiscent of an old film score with a helping of schmaltz. Some of Mr. Kang’s best playing comes here, honeyed tones with liberal stretching and absolutely no suggestion that any technical matters ever cross his mind.

The Phantasy in F major for Viola and Piano, Op.54 by York Bowen (1884-1961) caps off the program beautifully. I’ve long thought that the music of York Bowen is unjustly neglected, though some of his piano works have been recorded (by Joop Celis, Danny Driver, and perhaps most notably by Stephen Hough). Bowen’s work has a luscious heart-on-sleeve Romanticism with hints of Rachmaninoff, Delius, and others from the turn of the 19-20th century, but with his own distinct sound. This Phantasy is a powerful finale for any viola-piano team that can handle it, and the team of Kang and Park does so superbly. They bring lyricism and bravura playing together with unity of spirit and conception. Only some slight momentary roughness towards the end betrays any hint of flagging, and that says a lot for such a demanding program.

An encore follows, Contemplation, arranged after the Five Lieder, Op. 105, No. 1 by Brahms. Some may know the arrangement by Jascha Heifetz for violin, and though we are not told the name of the arranger here, this arrangement sounds similar, so it may very well have been simply adapted for viola. It closes the concert with a gentle prayerful feeling all too appropriate for the middle of the year 2020. Bravo to DongYeob Kang and Bravo to YoungSung Park!

A word to the wise for those who want to hear this concert: there is a silence of more than three minutes at the beginning (and I thought my computer was not working until I saw some motion on the progress bar), so perhaps skip to the 3:13 point (or closer to 4:00 to miss the tuning). Also, without some premium YouTube membership, there will be ads coming at the very worst points in the music – a crime. Let’s hope this duo will make a DVD soon.

The entire concert is at the presenters’ link posted in the first paragraph, but the reader can also visit Mr. Kang’s own YouTube Channel: www.youtube.com/DongYeobKang.

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

Personal Demons: Lowell Liebermann, pianist, in music of Liszt, Schubert, Busoni, Miloslav Kabeláč, and Lowell Liebermann, Steinway & Sons 30172

Turning in Time: Kinga Augustyn, violinist, in music of Elliott Carter, Luciano Berio, Krzysztof Penderecki, Grażyna Bacewicz, Isang Yun, and Debra Kaye, Centaur Records CRC3836

American Violin Sonatas: Ting-Lan Chen, violin; Nathan Buckner, piano, in music of Rubin Goldmark and Alexander Reinagle, Albany Records TROY1840

News of quarantines and lockdowns may accentuate what musicians have not been doing, but what some have been doing is quite exciting, and three recordings that landed in my mailbox are good examples. Two are of new or unfamiliar violin music (solo and with piano) released within the past few months, and one is a two-CD set of all solo piano music to be released February 5.

Though the three recordings are quite different, they all share the qualities of exploration – exploration of deferred personal repertoire dreams (or “personal demons” in the case of Lowell Liebermann’s CD), exploration of expanding roles as performer and composer (in Personal Demons as well as American Violin Sonatas), and the exploration of how our music connects us to other periods in history (in all three, but overtly in Kinga Augustyn’s Turning in Time).

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Starting with the upcoming release, it is an honor to recommend the double-CD set on the Steinway & Sons label entitled Personal Demons, featuring world-renowned composer Lowell Liebermann (lowellliebermann.com), one I’ve admired for several decades. Here he is heard in the role of pianist. Though there is nothing new about Lowell Liebermann’s pianistic strengths (as the idiomatic keyboard writing in his compositions will attest), Personal Demons marks his first solo CD in which he is the pianist, and he is outstanding.

In addition to playing his own Gargoyles, Apparitions, and Nocturne, No. 10, Op. 99 – an education for those who have played these – he offers a selection of formidable works by other composers. As Mr. Liebermann writes, “Personal Demons consists of music that I have been personally haunted by – pieces written by other composers that have preoccupied me and inspired me for most of my compositional career, ones that ‘I wish I wrote.’ Framing these are three of my own pieces that have special significance for me.”

Least known on the two discs may be the Preludes, Op. 30 of Czech composer Miloslav Kabeláč (1908-1979), which bear some kinship to the music of Kabeláč’s countryman Janáček. Kabeláč has a highly sympathetic interpreter in Lowell Liebermann, and these miniatures emerge as treasures. Some musicians may be inspired to purchase the set for these gems alone, but Mr. Liebermann closes the first disc with the hair-raising Totentanz of Franz Liszt, which he plays with ferocity – and then there’s disc two.

On the set’s second disc, after his own marvelous Apparitions, Mr. Liebermann plays the Variations on a Theme of Hüttenbrenner, D. 576, by Franz Schubert, a composer whose music he cherishes, as he reveals in his personal and informative program notes. The D. 576 Variations are striking for their harmonic twists and turns, and though some pianists (the relatively few who play them) tend to smooth things over as if to disguise what may be perceived as quirks, they are all consciously laid out here in what is a faithful and insightful performance.

As if these works were not already enough unusual fare to draw pianophiles, Mr. Liebermann includes the monstrous Fantasia Contrappuntistica (solo piano version) by Ferrucio Busoni. The latter is a notoriously massive undertaking, musically and pianistically – Herculean striving with Bachian inspiration at its core. To be frank, I’ve never taken to this piece and would probably only enjoy it upon consumption of some mind-expanding drug, but Mr. Liebermann’s version will undoubtedly take an important place alongside the not too numerous versions available. Bravo for taking it on – and with mastery!

For this listener, a high point was hearing the closing work, Mr. Liebermann’s own Nocturne No. 10, Op. 99, written in memory of the composer Gian Carlo Menotti. Between the potent lyricism of the composition itself and the expressive performance, it is extremely moving, making a fitting closing statement to follow so many pianistic adventures.

Speaking of adventures, one reads in the credits that Mr. Liebermann recorded these two discs in August and November of 2020, mid-pandemic, at the studio of recording wizard Sergei Kvitko in Lansing, Michigan; this was at a time when many were reluctant to step outside, let alone travel from the East coast. Congratulations are in order to all involved in this meaningful achievement.

***

Switching gears to violin it is a pleasure to recommend the new CD Turning in Time (released by Centaur Records in 2021), featuring all solo works played by young violinist Kinga Augustyn, whose career I’ve followed for about a decade now (kingaaugustyn.com). Ms. Augustyn has the natural musicality, keen intellect, and highly developed technique to turn the thorniest of compositions into child’s play, and so it is hard to imagine a better advocate than she is for a program of such challenging violin works of the 20th and 21st centuries.

According to the author of the program notes, Ted Mirecki, the term “modern” in music is often used in a pejorative sense to denote “a radical departure from the past”, and in his words “this collection refutes that conception – it demonstrates that musical ideas, turning in time, represent a continuum over the past several centuries. Specifically, the spirit of J. S. Bach pervades many of the works.” (The latter is a worthy connection to strive to hear, though of course the listener hoping for something resembling Bach tonally may be surprised.)

Starting off with Four Lauds of Elliott Carter, (dedicated to musicians Aaron Copland, Goffredo Petrassi, Robert Mann, and Roger Sessions), Ms. Augustyn opens with a beautiful sound right from the start. One is reminded of yet another reason “modern” is sometimes used pejoratively, and the reason is that not every violinist is Kinga Augustyn! The screeching and scratching that some associate with the music of our time may often be due not to the compositions but to the players; Ms. Augustyn, though, has intonation so true and a tone so singing that one can imagine a listener actually humming a few bars of Four Lauds after hearing her. One is not told whether Elliott Carter (who passed away in 2012) ever heard Ms. Augustyn play these, but one can imagine that he would have been delighted to know and work with her.

Fortunately, two composers heard on this disc did meet this violinist, and two World Premieres of their works are presented here, the Capriccio (2008) by Krzysztof Penderecki (1933-2020) and the title work, Turning in Time (2018) by Debra Kaye (b. 1956).

The Penderecki Capriccio is highly virtuosic in what is described in the booklet notes as a “neo-Romantic” (imagine a Paganini work updated with wider range, playing behind the bridge, etc.). This piece seems absolutely tailor-made for Ms. Augustyn, who has recorded all the Paganini Caprices and could probably toss them off while catching a train. A 2013 photo in the CD booklet of a smiling Penderecki with Ms. Augustyn seems to foretell of this impressive premiere, though the notes don’t mention the details of whether he heard it or not before he passed away in 2020 (the recording sessions were in 2017, 2018, and 2019 at Martin Patrych Studios in New York, engineered by the much sought-after Joseph Patrych).

Turning in Time, the final track and title work for the CD, was written expressly for Ms. Augustyn, who requested from composer Debra Kaye that it make reference to Bach’s Chaconne from the Partita No. 2 in D minor, and it is a tour de force. It is (in the composer’s words), “21st century music periodically interspersed with Bach-like phrases, motifs returning in new variations, juxtaposing past and present, reflecting on things that have changed and what remains the same, in a conversation between the ‘then’ and the ‘now’.” Ms. Augustyn conveys all of this, and the highly expressive ending phrase from the Bach Chaconne itself leaves one with chills after so much dissonance. One can’t help thinking how interesting it would be to pair this in a concert with the entire Bach Partita No. 2 – what better way to illustrate the proposed continuum than to integrate eras and styles?

Other works on the CD are Luciano Berio’s Sequenza VIII (1976), an exhaustive exploration of an adjacent-note motif, Grazyna Bacewicz’s Sonata No. 2 (1958), given a lucid and cohesive rendition here, and Isang Yun’s compelling Bachian work, Königliches Thema (1976). As well-conceived as the CD is, each work on it deserves to be heard in its own space, which is another good reason for the serious listener to own the CD and spread out the listening. Brava!

***

We’ve now recommended a piano CD followed by a violin CD, and we’ll close by recommending a disc of music for piano and violin, entitled American Violin Sonatas (Albany Records). It features World Premiere recordings of two works that are quite late in achieving this distinction, the Sonata in B minor, Op. 4 of Rubin Goldmark (1872-1936), and the Sonata in F Major (c. 1790) of Alexander Reinagle (1756-1809), composed around a century apart. The artists are violinist Ting-Lan Chen and pianist Nathan Buckner, who have performed worldwide, working with many of the greatest musicians of our day, and who are currently Professors of Violin and Piano respectively at the University of Nebraska-Kearney.

On top of offering the pleasure of musical discovery, this CD is important historically for filling in gaps in the discography of American music. If one wants to learn about American violin-piano concert music before 1900 (aside from a couple of other composers such as Beach and Foote), a key figure to know is Reinagle. He was central in Philadelphia musical life from his arrival to the US in 1786, and though some may know of his four largescale works dubbed the “Philadelphia” Sonatas, the Sonata in F recorded here has remained unknown in what is believed to be its intended form, due to a missing violin part, either lost or not notated (though there is a recording of it as a piano piece – and in comparing recorded versions, one will notice that the addition of a sustaining instrument affords a much more spacious feel, encouraging a slower tempo in the last movement and naturally adding variety of line and texture).

Enter pianist Nathan Buckner, who with some creative scholarship, imagination, and the musicological equivalent of time travel, created a violin part for it in 2015. One could almost miss from the liner notes that he was the one behind this completion, though his work qualifies as a kind of composing; many pianists might be announcing the upcoming publication of their “signature edition” but not here (though by the way, where and when will that printed edition be available?). Mr. Buckner describes the violin part as filling “the modest English role for the violin typical of Clementi’s work rather than Mozart’s more elaborate use.” In any case, a recital-worthy sonata has been reborn, and it received its recorded premiere just a few months ago in October of 2020.

All that background would be chiefly of theoretical interest without musical quality, but Mr. Buckner and Ms. Chen join in a seamless collaboration of polish and grace. They place the music front and center at all times, and it is a joy to hear. They enhance what the music has to offer, its thematic interest, thoughtful development, drama, and lyricism. The third movement has an infectious energy that brings Haydn and other Classical greats to mind.

In addition to the Reinagle, the CD features the premiere of Rubin Goldmark’s Sonata in B minor, Op. 4. For those unfamiliar with Goldmark, he was a pupil of Dvorak and a teacher in New York whose many illustrious students included Gershwin and Copland. He was Chair of Composition for the newly created Juilliard School starting in 1924 but sometimes is lost in history’s shuffle next to his musical uncle, Karl Goldmark. His Sonata in B minor is yet another great discovery, this time in a late Romantic vein, with some noticeable influence of Brahms and Dvorak for obvious reasons. It is a sprawling work, overflowing with impassioned phrases and harmonies and quite demanding for both instruments, but, thanks to the ample technique, sensitivity, and cohesion in the duo of Chen and Buckner, the performance invites the listener in to love it. One wants to hear it repeatedly (and really should in order to assimilate it fully) – especially that sumptuous second movement – so it will be one to own.

Both Reinagle and Goldmark were recorded in July of 2018, at the Foellinger Great Hall at Krannert Center for the Performing Arts, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, with excellent recording/engineering by Graham Duncan and Richard Scholwin. Collectors and music lovers may find the recording here and other major music CD vendors:

American Violin Sonatas.

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

Vladimir Tiagunov, pianist

Released by Record Union, May 6, 2020

Catalog Number: RU 233600

UPC: 7321170125946

It is a brave new world for this classical music reviewer to receive a Spotify link to review an album, but that was the case with a new recording released on the Record Union platform by pianist Vladimir Tiagunov (vladimirtiagunov.com), a young pianist with considerable passion and drive.

Not a “cookie-cutter” pianist, Mr. Tiagunov is a pianist of bold gestures, projecting a large spirit but sometimes a nonchalance about details. Those “details” here include the instrumental sound and editing, so this recording is neither for the faint of heart nor for lovers of the pristine; it promises, however, not to be dull.

Mr. Tiagunov’s programming is also largescale. Here he plays a generous and demanding recital of Beethoven’s Sonata in F minor Op. 57 (Appassionata), Schubert’s Fantasy, Op. 15 (Wanderer), the second (A-flat major) of the Moments Musicaux D. 780, six Chopin Études from Op. 10, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Though no details of recording are given (where it all was recorded, by whom and when, and whether in several days or in one continuous recital), one surmises from his selections that he is a pianist of considerable stamina and dauntless courage.

Mr. Tiagunov starts his program with Beethoven’s Op. 57. Playing a questionably serviced piano of rough sound, with what seems to have been minimal editing, he still conveys enough of the work’s inherent drama to distract the listener’s ears from the rawness of both most of the time. The first movement has a good deal of excitement. Having heard the many highly edited performances of this work that are available today, one fares best if not listening microscopically but with a certain aural “squint” to imagine it as a live performance.

In a live performance, one imagines the pacing would be more natural also. Perhaps it is the way Spotify streams from track to track, but there seems to be much too much haste between the Beethoven’s first and second movements, ruining any preparation for the meditative music ahead. (One hopes that this rapid segue is not where the attention-deficit modern listening experience is headed!) Then, in the second movement, the piano (which elsewhere one would describe as serviceable at best) becomes hard to bear. There is a twangy quality to the bass that grows more and more disturbing, especially for those low offbeats, which also sound unduly poked out. One wonders at this point why a pianist of such dedication has not held out for a better recording situation. If someone with the means is reading this review: please buy or lend this young pianist a better instrument and perhaps more leisurely recording session!

Not all of this reviewer’s reservations are related to equipment. Two diminished chords at the end of the central movement are further examples of haste – and it is not just a matter of the fermata of the first one being undetectable, but that its half-note value is actually shortchanged. One wonders where the fire is. Possibly such haste stems from an awareness that there is still the Wanderer, more Schubert, six Chopin Etudes, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures yet to come, but if so, then a “less is more” approach to programming may help future albums. I personally prefer hearing a single piece with ample time for full note values to speak, rather than feeling I am on a high-speed train with quick stops for major masterworks.

The finale of the Beethoven fares best of the three movements. Here, the same urgency that detracts from other movements creates an edge-of-seat excitement. I enjoyed it overall, a few raced measures notwithstanding.

Moving on to the Chopin Études, Op. 10, there is much to admire. The first in C major has a live brilliance to it. This brilliance at times verges on the breathlessness of an athletic contest (with the occasional smudged notes that beset live performance and usually get tidied up in the studio), but all in all it is effective. The second Étude in A minor goes at quite a clip as well. Though one misses some details underlying the prominent tops, the outlines and continuity are always there.

The third Étude in E major communicates a heartfelt involvement that I appreciate greatly, occasional eccentricities and all. There are extremes of speed beyond the usual range and some very personal liberties, plus more of the tonal issues already mentioned, and yet the individuality brings it a freshness that is much needed after hearing the sameness of so many recordings. Similar sincere lyricism is heard as well in the Étude No. 6 in E-flat minor, emerging as quite soulful despite the heaviness of the instrument.

For lovers of sheer speed, No. 4 in C-sharp minor is wildly fast, and No. 12 in C minor (the “Revolutionary” Etude) enjoys plenty of surging and roiling energy from Mr. Tiagunov’s left hand.

Moving on to Schubert, we hear the second (A-flat) of the Six Moments Musicaux, Andantino. Here the music is treated with a welcome spaciousness, and it creates an effective stylistic transition to the world of Schubert for the Wanderer Fantasy. Anyone who has played the Wanderer knows it is a beast (even Schubert who composed it was known to have said “let the devil play it”), but Mr. Tiagunov seems to take special pleasure in tackling such beasts. He fares well, with masses of leaping chords and arpeggios well in hand and not too many bruises. Mr. Tiagunov lets the heavenly Adagio section speak eloquently from its opening phrases and expansively rolled chords through to the build-up to the next movement – with again, much to admire.

In a surfeit of riches, more virtuosity follows with Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. There are few surprises here except more speed in several spots than one has generally heard. This pianist moves especially briskly through the opening Promenade. It holds together well, but it can also hold together with more relaxed pacing.

High marks go to Gnomus, with its trills having just the right snarly, menacing quality, plus the appropriately childlike Tuileries, the fittingly lumbering Bydlo, and the atmospheric Old Castle. Mr. Tiagunov fares especially well in the muscular and clearly contrasting sections. The characters in Goldenberg and Schmuyle emerge as just the right foils for each other, and the Baba-Yaga movement shows brilliance and power.

Promenade No. 3 is quite fast – again begging the question of where the fire is – but there is surely some reason behind it. The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks I’ve heard played more lightly, but again, little about this entire recording emphasizes delicacy. Cum mortuis in lingua mortua could also be softer to gain more mystery.

The final Great Gate of Kiev finds Mr. Tiagunov closing the recital in his element, and many will undoubtedly enjoy hearing him play it in live concert when the pandemic is over. For those who cannot wait, this recording can serve as a fair substitute.

The album contains 30 tracks and is distributed to all top digital music services: AppleMusic, Spotify, YouTubeMusic, Pandora, Tidal, Deezer, and others.

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

Liana Paniyeva, pianist

Mechanics Hall Summer Music Festival

Mechanics Hall, Worcester, Massachusetts

August 14, 2018

As much of the world uses the enforced pandemic “pause” to catch up on life, it is a pleasure to note that many musicians are taking this time to unearth pre-pandemic live performances to share over the internet. One such performance is by Ukrainian pianist Liana Paniyeva, who performed at the Mechanics Hall Summer Music Festival in 2018 and has shared her recital via YouTube. Click the following links to listen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENTExyRi_h4&t=239s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0oGi_hPKFA&t=1242s

First, for a bit of background, Ms. Paniyeva has won prizes in numerous competitions internationally and has performed at festivals in Norway, Hungary, Syria, Canada, England, Italy, South Africa, and Israel. Her recitals have taken her to Carnegie Hall and the Myra Hess Concert Series in Chicago, to note highlights. A graduate of the Donetsk Music Academy in Ukraine, she earned her Professional Studies Diploma from the Manhattan School of Music and an Artist Diploma from The Hartt School of the University of Hartford.

Ms. Paniyeva impresses this listener right away as a sensitive player, opening her recital with the much-loved Gluck-Sgambati Melody (“Dance of the Blessed Spirits” from Orfeo and Euridice). Her earnest rendering sets a pensive tone for this rather weighty program, which continues in a similar spirit (and key) with the Rachmaninoff-Corelli Variations, Op. 42. Here again she reveals herself to be a musician of intense commitment. Her attention to detail through the entire performance is impressive, showing fine control and transparency in the complex textures and thoughtful delineation of phrases in slow lyrical sections.

There is an orderly, meticulous quality to all that Ms. Paniyeva plays, and this is accentuated visually by her preparation and cut-off gestures, which we can see thanks to the large screen with keyboard view that Mechanics Hall has onstage. The idea of an onstage close-up screen (prompted one guesses by the size of this imposing hall) is a wonderful feature in general for this increasingly video-oriented world, and though this concert is from 2018, pre-Covid, one can’t help thinking that with current social distancing we may be seeing a similar feature at venues that can manage it.

If there is anything missing in Ms. Paniyeva’s Op. 42, it is that one occasionally expects more of the sense of impassioned abandon in some of the faster, more driving variations, though her interpretation is quite persuasive as it stands. Speaking of things missing, one is also sad not to hear the craggy Variation XIX, which can build to hair-raising effect towards Variation XX. Now, Rachmaninoff did specify about Variation XIX, that “this variation may be omitted” (for, as the story goes, when he sensed that his audience was restless in his own performances, he would spontaneously drop a variation); this listener, though, at home during the pandemic and with no train to catch, would love to hear each note of the piece. (As an aside, it is interesting to speculate how these Covid days may change listeners’ expectations and wishes.) Thankfully, Ms. Paniyeva does play the other “optional” Variations, XI and XII, and they are compelling in their rhythmic energy.

Following this work comes more Rachmaninoff, two of the Moments Musicaux, Op. 16. The first in B-flat minor is fittingly brooding in Ms. Paniyeva’s rendition, mournful from the beginning through winding elaborations and back. Polish and accuracy are commendable here, with barely a flaw – a tall order with such an intricate piece. This listener is accustomed to a bit more contrast of dynamics and mood in the central section, but again, vive la difference! Ms. Paniyeva follows with the second piece of the same set (F minor), and she projects its surges and sweeps well.

Medtner’s Sonata Tragica (Op. 39, No. 5) is simply a gift to hear, as it is still underplayed, and Ms. Paniyeva gives it a marvelous performance. She lavishes care and attention on each nuance and storms through its virtuosic fistfuls with fire and command. Her special commitment to this repertoire is clear, and she is more than up to all of its substantial challenges. Brava!

The final work (and Part II of the program) is Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, played with mastery of its many contrasting techniques and moods. What strikes this listener perhaps most about Ms. Paniyeva’s conception is her pacing and ability to hold power in reserve. Never does she turn the stage into a pool of sweat and pile of missed notes, as sometimes one sees and hears. She sustains intense focus and leads the trusting listener on her long journey with no histrionics.

Highlights include her “Tuileries” movement where she displays nearly Horowitzian staccato notes at high speed and the ” Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks” – fittingly chirpy and whimsical. The “Bydlo” (Cattle/Oxen) movement is not quite as heavily lumbering in her hands as one often hears – refreshing in a way, and yet leaving some questions. Though Ms. Paniyeva favors tapered phrases and a rounded sound – qualities often falling under the heading “musicality” – perhaps more of the thundering bovine is justified here. Again, it is a matter of taste.

Another notable feature of Ms. Paniyeva’s conception is her omission of the fifth Promenade section, between “Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuÿle” and “The Market at Limoges.” The omission works well to sustain momentum (as various arrangers and performers seem to have agreed, notably Ravel). This reviewer is frankly prone to fatigue in many performances of this piece but Ms. Paniyeva’s performance keeps the flow. With the momentum sustained, one is then readier for the eeriness of the “Catacombs” movement and ensuing “Con Mortuis in Lingua Mortua” – and Ms. Paniyeva plays them with fitting eeriness. “The Hut on Hen’s Legs” (Baba Yaga), while more deliberate than one often hears, is also very clean here with only negligible exceptions, and “The Great Gate of Kiev,” measured and mighty, is a victory lap capping off a fine performance.

In summary, this an excellent recital by a wonderful pianist.

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

Rixiang Huang, Piano

Recorded March 7, 2020, Alfred Newman Hall, University of Southern California, CA; Recording Producer, Engineer, and Editor, Josue Gonzalez;

Photographer, Jiachen Liu; Piano Technician Ann Hayden;

Booklet Editing and Art Direction, Chenting Zhao

On March 7 of this interminable pandemic season, prizewinning pianist Rixiang Huang was busy playing a highly demanding piano recital at the University of Southern California, where he is a doctoral candidate at the Thornton School of Music. From this recital, a recording was made and released commercially in April as a CD entitled “French Romance.” The recording is now available both as a physical CD (including Poulenc, Debussy, Ravel, and Mussorgsky) as well as a download-only recording (with additional tracks of Bartók and Mendelssohn). There is much to admire in it.

About the repertoire, the French works include a short song transcription from the Poulenc’s Léocadia incidental music, specifically Les chemins de l’amour, plus Ravel’s Sonatine and Debussy’s Estampes. Though entitled “French Romance” the CD contains just around thirty minutes of French music, with the other thirty-one being the great Russian masterwork, Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky. The additional download-only tracks range still more widely (with Mendelssohn’s Phantasie, Op. 28, and Bartók’s Sonata, Sz. 80), bringing the total to around an hour and a half of very diverse piano music.

About the performer, Rixiang (Ricky) Huang (https://www.rixianghuangpianist.com/) is an excellent young pianist, whose live performances of Haydn, Beethoven, Granados, and Liszt I reviewed quite favorably last year at a Bradshaw and Buono winners’ recital at Carnegie’s Weill Hall (Bradshaw & Buono Winners Recital in Review). He has won an impressive array of other prizes and accolades as well, and he currently studies with the noted pianist and conductor Jeffrey Kahane. His playing on this recording displays the tremendous technical facility and range that one heard around a year ago in live concert, and it bodes well for continued success in his career.

The disc opens nostalgically with an arrangement of Poulenc’s meltingly beautiful song Les chemins de l’amour. Once a signature piece for the legendary Jessye Norman, the music had originally been set to a heartbreaking Anouilh poem of love and loss and has since been played in various arrangements for different instruments. No transcriber is credited for Mr. Huang’s solo piano version of the song, perhaps understandably in that very little is added to the original (to keep its purity intact).  Mr. Huang lets the melody speak, as he should, and it is a poignant performance.

Debussy’s Estampes follows, and all three movements show individuality. The opening of Pagodes was a high point for this reviewer, reflecting a special sensitivity, grace, and delicate tonal shading. That sensitivity was less apparent to this listener in the second piece, Soirée dans Grenade, which suffered a bit from an almost metronomic stiffness, particularly the staccato sixteenths in measure 18 (and every analogous spot to follow). More of the crescendo in these spots (as marked even in Debussy’s manuscripts) would have lent a more human impulse and gesture to the phrasing to offset this quality. In the third and final piece of the set, Jardins sous la pluie, the drumming of the garden “rain” was quite evocative. Minor quibbles aside, many will be sure to enjoy the entire set, especially the Pagodes.

Next on the disc is Ravel’s Sonatine, and here the phrasing is flexible and singing, while still maintaining a restraint in accordance work’s neo-classical spirit. Mr. Huang shows a genuine expressiveness in the work’s central Mouvement de Menuet, and the finale, Animé, has just the right crystalline brilliance and drive.

Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition concludes the physical CD’s selections, and it does so with gusto. One may well ask why yet another recording of this well-known piece is needed (and why place one might place this juggernaut on a disc of French delicacies), but the results speak. It affords a chance for Mr. Huang to shine in almost every facet of his pianism. That is part of the goal of a debut CD, after all (which has this listener wondering why it wasn’t simply a self-titled CD rather than one shoehorned into a “French Romance” theme).

The Mussorgsky benefits here from a highly intense Gnomus and an exceptionally plaintive rendition of The Old Castle. The deft finger-work (especially in Tuileries, Limoges, and the Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks) is expert, as is the power in the lumbering – but not too slow – oxen of Bydlo, the storming of Baba Yaga, and the final Great Gate of Kiev. To play each contrasting piece with the different required touches, sounds, and moods is to master an encyclopedic range of pianism, and Mr. Huang delivers it all with seeming ease. The piece marks the end of a highly auspicious first commercial CD.

The additional digital downloads of Bartók and Mendelssohn are more than a bonus. Though the Bartók Sonata seems at first not as savage as one sometimes hears, it has instead a reined-in energy which is effective in building excitement, and Mr. Huang unleashes the accelerando to the close of the first movement with ferocity. The final movement is bristling. It may be one of this listener’s most enjoyable Bartók Sonata performances to date. Mendelssohn’s relatively underplayed Phantasie, Op. 28 is also excellent, with Mr. Huang’s fleet-fingered reading bringing it lucidity and cohesion.

One won’t find these last two pieces on the physical CD itself, so adventurous music lovers might consider purchasing the download-only version. A preview is available at https://rixianghuang.hearnow.com/. The complete recording is at Spotify, Itunes, Apple Music, and other stores.

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

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor

Featuring Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Michael Adelson, DCINY Assistant Artistic Director and Conductor

Debra Cook, Soprano

Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Sunday, February 16, 2020

Perpetual Light was the apt title for this Sunday’s concert presented by Distinguished Concerts International New York, and, though the title presumably refers to the Lux Aeterna finale of the John Rutter Requiem which made up this concert’s second half, the title suits DCINY’s uplifting programming overall. The DCINY organization occupies a unique position in New York concert life by drawing together singers from all over the world for choral and orchestral concerts, and their performances consistently radiate fellowship and joy in music-making. This weekend the large combined forces included choruses from Alabama, California, Illinois, Indiana, North Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, and, as the program states, “individual singers from around the globe.” In addition to the much-loved Rutter work, the concert included shorter works by Rain Worthington, Mark John McEnroe, Arthur Gottschalk, and Sergio Cervetti before intermission.

It should be noted that all the works on the first half were chosen by Croatian-based conductor Miran Vaupotić, who we were told could not be present to conduct them due to visa issues. Fortunately, conductor Michael Adelson, the Assistant Artistic Director of DCINY since 2019, was able to step in as a replacement, and he led the orchestra with precision and assurance. The works chosen happened to be in somewhat accessible contemporary styles overall, but that is not to say that they were without challenges of balance, rhythm, and synchronization. Thankfully all involved were up to the demands, as one has come to expect from this orchestra.

Still Motion by Rain Worthington (b. 1949) set a tone of anticipation for the program’s opener. Described by the composer as “a mix of edgy energy, reflective sadness and strength of conviction” the work creates a hypnotic effect through repeated motives, particularly in the percussion parts (including vibraphone and tam-tam). The ever-reliable Distinguished Concerts Orchestra played it with a sense of expectant drama, and the composer was present to take a bow.

Next up were two symphonic pieces, Dance of the Pagans and Storm Clouds Approaching, by Mark John McEncroe (b. 1947). One reads in the program notes that that these two pieces were orchestrations of works written for piano, taken from Mr. McEnroe’s volumes 2 and 3 of Musical Images for Piano: Reflections & Recollections Series. The first piece, fittingly folk-like in its simplistic symmetrical phrases and repeated melodic patterns, was brought to life by the deft orchestrator’s hand of Mark J. Saliba, who perhaps ought to have been given shared billing, beyond the mention in the program notes. The second piece, moodier and more complex, seemed to present more challenges in terms of expressiveness and ensemble but was handled well by conductor and orchestra alike. The composer enjoyed a bow for each piece.

Music of Gottschalk came next, but not Louis Moreau Gottschalk (as one assumed on first glance at the DCINY website) but Arthur Gottschalk (b. 1952). We heard Tebe Boga, a solemn religious work set to a text roughly the equivalent to the Latin Te Deum but in Old Slavonic, as the work was commissioned for the Siberian State Orchestra and Choir by conductor Vladimir Lande. Composed in 2018 for orchestra, choir, and solo bass-baritone, it was adapted here for just bass-baritone and orchestra, and the intrepid soloist was Timothy Jones, who handled the entire text with compelling involvement and sure delivery. It was fascinating music by a composer who clearly knows his craft. It was originally intended to be interpolated into performances of the same composer’s Requiem: For the Living, so perhaps DCINY will present that work at some point.

Closing the first half were two atmospheric movements from the opera Elegy for A Prince by  Sergio Cervetti (b. 1940). The opera is based on Oscar Wilde’s The Happy Prince, and we heard Scenes 1 and 9, from Act II. The role of Swallow (and later Match-Girl) was sung by soprano Megan Weston, whose sweetness of sound worked in contrast in Scene 1 with the projected anguish of excellent bass-baritone Luis Alejandro Orozco as a Prince-turned-statue. Ms. Weston was even more remarkable in Scene 9, her high notes soaring in the music’s beautiful evocations of Swallow’s descent from heaven. Tenor Quinn Bernegger, in the role of Young Writer, then summed up the opera’s themes of compassion and benevolence, concluding with nobility the scene and the first half of this concert.

John Rutter’s much-loved Requiem closed the program under the direction now of Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Principal Conductor of DCINY. Composed in the relatively consolatory spirit of Fauré’s Requiem, it omits the traditional Dies Irae, and its movements of meditation and comfort outbalance the darker sections. As a British composer, Rutter also inserts two completely English movements, Out of the Deep and The Lord is My Shepherd (the second and sixth of the overall seven-movement “arch”). This music emerged in its full glory, with the multiple choruses blending quite well (and their behind-the-scenes leaders taking a well-deserved bow afterwards). The final Lux Aeterna was sheer heaven, with partial thanks to soprano soloist Debra Cook, who sang with a covered, velvety quality in her high registers, never shrill or harsh and with true intonation. She was also superb in the Pie Jesu. Outstanding as well was principal cellist Elizabeth Mikhael in the second movement Out of the Deep, beautifully resonant both in her opening solo and as the cello part was interwoven with chorus and orchestra. Kudos to all – and to DCINY for a remarkable achievement.

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