Rorianne Schrade | New York Concert Review, Inc.

American Liszt Society Presents Yi Zhong and Joseph Kingma in Review

Yi Zhong and Joseph Kingma, pianists

Yamaha Artist Services, Inc. (YASI) Piano Salon, New York, NY

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

Two pianists shared a concert this week at the Yamaha Artists Services, Inc (YASI) piano salon on Fifth Avenue: Joseph Kingma, winner of the 2017 Liszt International Piano Competition in Ohio, and Yi Zhong, a prize winner of the 2016 Los Angeles Liszt International Piano Competition. The concert was presented under the auspices of the American Liszt Society (ALS), and pianist Gila Goldstein, president of its New York/New Jersey Chapter since she founded it 1992, spoke words of introduction. She prepared the sizeable crowd for an evening of virtuosity, not exclusively by Liszt but also Rachmaninoff and composers who followed Liszt.

Yi Zhong played first, starting with two movements of Liszt’s transcription of the Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique. We heard Reveries – Passions and Un Bal. Un Bal is the better known of the two movements, and it was brilliant in Mr. Zhong’s hands, projecting charm and sweep in its lilting waltz and mounting to a bravura ending with rapid octaves, huge leaps, hand-crossings – “the works.” Mr. Zhong is a fine champion for this transcription movement, which is still relatively rarely played.

Still rarer are live piano performances of the Symphonie’s longer first movement, Reveries-Passions, and perhaps with good reason. Berlioz, as one of history’s great masters of orchestration poured much of his inspiration into the orchestral colors, and many of these are hard to capture via solo piano, not to mention at high speed while addressing balance and detail. It is rather telling that, when pianist Christopher O’Riley performed the entire fifty-minute Symphonie in New York in 2018, it was in collaboration with Basil Twist’s aquatic puppetry, ballet, lights, and tinsel. Without ample color of some sort, the high drama can descend into hokum and the piano writing into dreck. Mr. Zhong thankfully avoided that fate, but the loudness of the hall piano still dominated the experience. Mr. Zhong certainly has the pianism to tackle just about anything, but this special niche of the repertoire will call for that “je ne sais quoi.”

A bit of a sonic reprieve came with the sublime Quejas o la Maja y el Ruiseñor (The Maiden and the Nightingale) from Goyescas of Enrique Granados. Mr. Zhong showed a genuine warmth of feeling here, which grew still more apparent in the next work, the Intermezzo No. 1 of Mexican composer Manuel Ponce (1882-1948). Ponce remains best known for guitar works, so it was refreshing to hear part of his piano output.

Mr. Zhong concluded his programmed portion with Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 15 (Rakoczy March) in Vladimir Horowitz’s version, played with tremendous technical skill and a Horowitzian gleam. Mr. Zhong is a pianist of impressive stamina, fierce concentration, and unquestionable technical command, and these bode well for his busy performing life. He returned for an encore, a jazzy piano arrangement by Alexis Weissenberg of the charming En Avril À Paris (April in Paris) of Charles Trenet (not to be confused with Vernon Duke’s April in Paris). These Weissenberg arrangements have also been performed by Marc-André Hamelin but have only recently (late 2018-2019) been made available in a Muse Press publication (edited by Mr. Hamelin), so Mr. Zhong is surely close to the forefront of some fresh repertoire.

The second pianist of the evening was Joseph Kingma. This reviewer worried a bit that the aural saturation point had already been reached in the first half, so the prospect of hearing Liszt’s Sonetto 104 del Petrarca from Années de Pèlerinages (V. II, Italy) and the complete Thirteen Preludes Op. 32 of Rachmaninoff was daunting; any misgivings, though, were short-lived.

Mr. Kingma coaxed the listener into the music’s poetry from the very first notes of his Liszt, showing the command of a master and a composer’s insight. Though his technique emerged through the program as one which is capable of anything, it was always used in the service of the music itself.

Mr. Kingma’s Rachmaninoff Preludes were astonishingly good, each in a different way. To say that the Op. 32 set is hard to pull off in live performance is an understatement. The Preludes as a group challenge every facet of pianism and musicality (including stamina), but, beyond that, they require that an artist draw out the uniqueness of each one, lest they all become a blur for an average audience after forty minutes. It was clear that Mr. Kingma knew each piece from inside the music but could also step outside each one enough to “translate” it in a sense to his audience – a rare gift.

From the stormy virtuosity of No. 1 to the dark brooding in No. 2 with its restless undercurrent and the brisk energy of No. 3’s wintry troika ride, Mr. Kingma captured the opening three wonderfully. The elusive, shifting moods in No. 4 are unwieldy for many but were projected quite persuasively, and an ethereal transparency graced the Prelude No. 5 in G major (Moderato). If one occasionally wondered whether the pedal might be a bit sluggish (as also possibly in Sonnet 104 early on), that reservation was fleeting, and the Prelude No. 6 lived up to its Allegro appassionato designation, roiling with rapid-fire finger-work and power.

These pieces travel to interesting territory tonally (one was reminded of Shostakovich and Prokofiev in moments of the No. 7 in F major, Moderato), and just when one felt one knew every inch of Rachmaninoff’s work, Mr. Kingma rekindled the desire to relearn them all more deeply. One hopes he will record the entire set (if he hasn’t already). He has clearly delved into each one on all levels, from the broader swaths to the finer lines, colored inflections, and nuances.

The set progressed seamlessly to its close, from the fleet-fingered lightness of No. 8 to the masterful pacing of No. 9, the palpable tragedy of No. 10 in B minor, and the mercurial shifts in No. 11. Only the briefest glitch arose in No. 12 – remarkable amid such a large undertaking – and the final ponderous No. 13 (Grave) held the audience spellbound. On that subject, lest one think it was an audience of all cognoscenti, two neighboring attendees who had been audibly trying to distinguish Berlioz from Granados sat utterly transfixed and silent – an affirmation of the power of music and of Mr. Kingma’s performance.

The only distractions by the end were the bongo-like noises of the hall’s radiator, which, in view of all the acoustical technology used in this space, seemed rather ironic. Both artists deserved better, so one hopes that this problem can be resolved. Apart from such matters, congratulations are in order to all involved.

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

On Paganini’s Trail CD in Review

Edson Scheid, period violin

Centaur Records CRC 3735

Recorded September 4, 6, and 8, 2018 at Martin Patrych Memorial Studios, Bronx, NY

Produced and Engineered by Joseph Patrych

On Paganini’s Trail… H. W. Ernst and more, played by violinist Edson Scheid, is a 2019 release on Centaur Records that many musicians will undoubtedly want to hear for several reasons. First of all, Mr. Scheid is a superb violinist and a musician who can handle the fiendish challenges of this repertoire while finding the music in it. Without that fundamental merit, very little else would matter. Secondly, though, it is also a well curated program that promises an interesting glimpse into the world of nineteenth-century violin giant, Nicolò Paganini (1782-1840) including his Introduction and Variations on Nel cor più non mi sento, Op. 38, plus a generous helping of the music by virtuoso Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst (1812-1865) who followed him. He even followed him literally, as the liner notes tell us, renting rooms near Paganini’s to learn from his practice. As a bonus, there is a solo version of Mozart’s Rondo from the Duo in G Major for Violin and Viola, KV 423, crafted by Mr. Scheid himself with techniques that Paganini and Ernst pioneered to simulate multiple instruments. Finally, it is of interest that the entire program is listed as being played on a “period violin” – and one is hard pressed to find other (if any) recordings of these works billed as such.

Most classical music fans these days are familiar with “historically informed performances” (HIP) of Baroque and early Classical music (albeit with mixed responses), but nineteenth-century ones are a different matter altogether. For performance practice studies to creep so close to the present feels almost like an archaeological dig in one’s own closet. Many techniques and varieties of expressiveness from the Romantic era are alive and well today, and quite a few of us musicians (several on staff at New York Concert Review) had teachers who studied with musicians from the nineteenth century. It is natural to ask: what is now considered to define a nineteenth-century “period” violin or violinist?

The liner notes mention that Ernst and Paganini have rarely (if ever) been played on “a period instrument with gut strings and without a shoulder rest.” Apart from the strings and shoulder rest issues, we are not told the make of Mr. Scheid’s instrument or bow (which would be of interest chiefly because of the CD’s billing as “period violin”). We do know that Paganini himself played an Amati and after he lost that, a Guarneri del Gesu (an exact Vuillaume replica of which is played today by a noted violinist who is not part of any historic movement). Ernst himself played a Stradivarius, as do quite a few fortunate artists today, and it seems that the question of luthiers may not to be central to historic fidelity issues – but one is still curious because of the cover words, “period violin.”

One is left assuming that the string type and absence of shoulder rest may be central, and they are certainly important. Gut strings, often described as providing more complex timbres and overtones, almost human-sounding, were largely replaced by synthetic and metal ones in the twentieth century, before the HIP movement really blossomed, though a number of twentieth-century giants – including Heifetz, Milstein, and Rosand – continued to favor them at least for one or two of the four strings. As for the shoulder rest or absence of it, it can affect shifts and technique overall (and depending how big it is even the resonance), but there seem to have been too many approaches to this (sponges, pads, etc.) to allow true historic codifying.

Beyond the abovementioned issues, what Mr. Scheid links to the Paganini-Ernst “period” are performance elements, and he cites two, including more sparing use of vibrato and the greater use of portamento or slides (though there have been historically differing views on the latter as well). Some violinists assert that gut strings feel more pliable, facilitating some of that portamento gliding, so one aspect can relate to the next – but back to the music itself, lest one get lost in jargon.

The disc starts with music of Ernst. Apart from two very famous Ernst pieces, including the Variations on the Last Rose of Summer and the transcription of Schubert’s Erlkönig (both included here), much of Ernst’s output is still relatively underplayed, so it is great to have all Six Polyphonic Studies here (the last being the Last Rose of Summer Variations). Granted, there have been fantastic performances of several Ernst works by Midori, Hillary Hahn, and others, and there have also been notable collections since the turn of the millennium, including a 2008 CD of Ilya Gringolts and Ashley Wass on Hyperion and a complete Ernst cycle with Sherban Lupu and Ian Hobson on Toccata Classics (with its final Volume Six just released in 2019); the elements of curation and historical context, though, set Mr. Scheid’s album apart.

As for the playing, Mr. Scheid’s is consistently virtuosic, as it would have to be to navigate this repertoire. Mr. Scheid holds degrees from the Universität Mozarteum in Salzburg, the Yale School of Music, and the Juilliard School, where he was a two-time winner of the Historical Performance Concerto Competition, and he has aptly been described by the Boston Musical Intelligencer as “both musically and technically one of the most assured and accomplished of today’s younger period violinists.” Beyond this, he is especially adept at coaxing warm and multicolored tones from the gut strings of his violin, and he could probably convert the world’s many historic performance cynics into believers.

The first of Ernst’s Polyphonic Studies (Rondino Scherzo- Con Spirito) has one marveling at how a single violin handles music that would keep even a pianist quite busy. There is a test element at work here – these studies are like Paganini Caprices on steroids – but thanks to Mr. Scheid’s artful touch, the pyrotechnics don’t grow tiresome. The profusion of double-stops (and triple and quadruple – one loses track) can require a bit of beat-stretching, but that stretching never becomes obnoxious in Mr. Scheidt’s hands. The Study No. 2 (marked Con Grazia) is playful, almost coquettish, and the Study No. 3 (Terzetto – Allegro moderato e tranquillo) is imbued with a wistful expressivity. On that topic, the more intimate selections are maximized by beautifully reverberant recording by producer and engineer Joseph Patrych of the Martin Patrych Memorial Studio.

The Study No. 4 (Allegro Risoluto) opens with dizzying speed, and the deeper sound that Mr. Scheid achieves in one register against gossamer arpeggiations in others highlights well the different tiers of sound in a fascinating way (again perhaps with some thanks to those gut strings). The Study No. 5 (Air de Ballet) may be the trickiest to enjoy, as the multiple challenges are simply impossible to downplay. Mr. Scheid handles all of them amazingly, but the acrobatic elements seem intended to delight audiences in live performance, in which one could watch the dazzling “ballet.” Close-your-eyes listening fare this Air is not; the Study No. 6, though, the Last Rose of Summer Variations, lives up to its reputation as virtuosity with a soulful core. The slides or portamenti are indeed more recognizably profuse here than one hears in other performances, but they work well. As for the wildly difficult variations, it would seem the height of gall to criticize the wizardry of anyone able to pull them off. What might induce groans from fine violinists is given an almost “tossed off” feeling here – so bravo!

Ernst’s Grand Caprice for Solo Violin (on Schubert’s Erlkönig) follows chillingly. Its relentless repeated notes, and the hair-raising subject matter behind them (the story of a death ride from Goethe via Schubert), are all fodder for an exciting performance, and that is what we have, with an edge-of-seat suspense.

Only after all of the above Ernst does the CD proceed from “Paganini’s trail” to some actual Paganini, with the latter’s Introduction and Variations on Nel cor più non mi sento, Op. 38. Here the portamenti are profuse and exaggerated to the point where they are almost comical, but that may be part of the point of such over-the-top virtuosity, stagy echoes and all – to bring a smile, while dazzling with bouncing bow, stratospheric range, and endless surprises. Mr. Scheid plays this music brilliantly.

The final work on the CD, Mozart’s Rondo from the Duo in G Major for Violin and Viola, KV 423, caps off the CD and is a delight. While the average listener will enjoy it for the lightness and spirit achieved, the more experienced violin aficionados will enjoy marveling at the techniques employed to simulate two string instruments on just one. Moments here where one senses some unconventional pitch variations simply make the experience feel more live.

All in all, this disc is an admirable and noteworthy new release, which violinists will want to own and many will enjoy.

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

The Sixth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition Presents Gala Winners Recital in Review

Pianists Antoni Kleczek, Ukki Sachedina, Sua Lee, Katelyn Vahala, Tianle Chen,

Bruno Walter Auditorium at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

December 8, 2019

It is always a revelatory experience to hear the winners of the Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competitions (TIBC), as this reviewer has done numerous times, and this year’s edition, the sixth, was no exception. The TIBC 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 the piano competitions began in 2008 (now in odd-numbered years, but having taken place 2008, 2010, 2013, 2015, 2017, and 2019). Each event is an enormous undertaking, superbly organized by the dynamic and elegant Ms. Tatz, and each draws an international jury and outstanding international participants (now ranging from ages 8-28). Focusing on Bach, but by no means exclusively Bach, the TIBC events have selected some stellar pianists, and its winners are lighting up the stages worldwide.

Thanks to the abundance of J. S. Bach’s output, there was a dizzying array of categories for awards (one counted 8 by genre, plus four additional prize categories). On Sunday we heard the five winners. Antoni Kleczek (USA) won in Category 2 (Inventions, Sinfonias, Duets) and shared the Contemporary Music Award. Ukki Sachedina (USA) won in Category 3 (Preludes and Fugues). Sua Lee (Korea) won in Category 4A (English Suites, French Suites, and Partitas 1,3), and Katelyn Vahala won in Category 4B (Partitas 2,4,5,6, and French Overture), as well as sharing the Contemporary Music Award. The winner in Category 7 (Recital) and Category 8 (The Goldberg Variations) was Tianle Chen (China).

Tianle Chen ( winner of the Recital, 7th Category, and the Goldberg Variations, 8th Category.)

As with many artistic endeavors, a piano competition needs backing, and this one has drawn the support (among others) of pianistic luminary Evgeny Kissin, for whom TIBC’s Evgeny Kissin/Steinway and Sons Recital Grand Prize is named. This year, that Kissin Prize was not awarded, not because some high level was not reached, it was explained, but because the voting for that prize must be unanimous, and it was not. Other prizes not awarded included Category 5 (Various Works), Category 6 (Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, Italian Concerto, Sonatas), and the award to the Outstanding Competitor from the Juilliard School. On the subject of luminaries, though, the Kern Foundation “Aspiration” (named for the formidable pianist Olga Kern) offered the Aspiration Foundation Award which was won by Antoni Kleczek, the afternoon’s youngest performer at age thirteen.

Antoni Kleczek opened the winners’ recital with a masterful performance of Five Bagatelles (1994) by Carl Vine (b. 1954). The Five Bagatelles are also known as Threnody, after the fifth Bagatelle, which is entitled Threnody (for all of the innocent victims). Carl Vine composed the set in a way that embraces a variety of styles, and it was thus an ideal vehicle to reflect a performer’s range. The first piece, marked Darkly, opens with an eerie feeling of foreboding, and Mr. Kleczek captured this mood with complete immersion. The second piece, marked leggiero e legato, pits driving eighths and sixteenths below longer notes in the treble phrases, and it is a digital test, in a way, to ensure that the tops emerge clearly over the rapid finger-work – this pianist was more than up to the task. The third movement, the set’s slow soulful centerpiece, was beautifully introspective in the rendition of this young musician. The fourth jazzy piece had just the right swing to it, giving the set a brief lightness, and the fifth, a haunting bell-like lament, showed again that this young pianist possesses a musical maturity far beyond his years.

Anthoni Kleczek- winner of Second category inventions / symphonias,
Winner of the Olga Kern AspirationAward, and winner of the Contemporary Award.

The second pianist was Ukki Sachedina, playing Felix Mendelssohn’s Prelude and Fugue in E minor op 35. no 1 – as Mendelssohn’s Preludes and Fugues are allowed in Category 3 in combination with Bach’s own. Mr. Sachedina gave this Prelude great thoroughness and dedication, with minimal fuss and all of the emotion concentrated in the sound. The Fugue lived up to all expectations set by the Prelude, with clarity, excellent control of dynamics, and attention to each detail of counterpoint. The entrance of Mendelssohn’s own E major Chorale theme was truly noble, as was the hallowed quiet ending.

The first actual Bach of the program came from the afternoon’s third pianist, Sua Lee in three selections from Bach’s English Suite in D minor. We heard the Prelude, Sarabande, and Gavotte. Ms. Lee gave the Prelude an improvisatory feel, letting it naturally unfold into the Allegro section, which was remarkably controlled. Only some slightly rushed repeated bass pedal tones departed from the utter steadiness, but these seemed almost inevitable in the excitement of Bach’s building. The Sarabande sounded as I had never heard it before with all manner of surprising personal touches in the double (including, unless this listener was dreaming, no Picardy third at the close – a surprise). The second Gavotte in D major was similarly graced with some very individual ornamentation and was striking and ethereal. It is rare to see this sort of individual playing in such a young performer so it will be interesting to hear how she develops over time.

The fourth pianist Katelyn Vahala gave a confident account of selections from Bach’s Partita No. 4 in D major – the Overture, Menuet, and Gigue. The Overture had just the right regal quality in its double-dotted rhythms, and what followed was excellent, though for this listener it seemed that some of the ornaments may have encumbered the tempo slightly in spots – or perhaps that deliberate quality was intentional. With Bach, as stated by the jury chair Jeffrey Swann, there is such a wide range of possible interpretations – and sometimes that flexibility is applied to expressive manipulations of rhythm – this listener just wasn’t always in complete agreement. The Gigue closed and was wonderfully rhythmic and robust. Among Gigues this Partita’s one is quite a difficult one, with leaps that snag the best pianists, but with only the minutest exceptions Ms. Vahala was right on target. The playing all around was that of a highly accomplished pianist.

The afternoon’s final pianist Tianle Chen played two selections, starting with Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring (Chorale from Cantata no. 147) in the Myra Hess version – it was sensitively wrought. As winner in the Goldberg Variations category, he had the dubious obligation to extract a segment from this sacrosanct set, but he chose well (or someone did) with the Aria followed by Variations XX-XXX. Again Mr. Chen impressed. It is probably a challenge to leap from the Aria to Variation XX, especially at the lightning speed Mr. Chen chose for the latter, but for whatever reason it had momentary rough spots that one suspects could have been avoided with a bit more breathing room. Variation XXI was a joy, perfectly clear in each voice. Mr. Chen has superb fingers for detached rapid passagework, and one was reminded of the playing of Gould at times (if that is acceptable to say in this Tureck-oriented environment). In Variation XXIII, Mr. Chen’s staccato sixteenths moved to seamlessly perfect 32^nd notes, and there was tremendous lightness and clarity. Occasionally in the parallel thirds one wanted more “traction” (as well as in Variation XXIX) lest things run away – but all in all one was left simply wanting to hear the whole set. Mr. Chen’s pianism has much to offer the world.

The judges included Jeffrey Swann (chairman), Michael Charry, Emanuel Krasovsky, André Laplante, Joanne Polk, Matti Raekallio, Jose Ramos Santana, Mark Sullivan, and Douglas Sheldon, and a preselection jury of Martin Labazevitch, Mark Sullivan, and the director Golda Vainberg-Tatz.

Congratulations to all of them for their selections, to the young pianists, to their teachers, to the contest administration, and of course to all who learned great repertoire without winning a prize – undoubtedly, they have won in important ways, as does anyone who gets to know Bach’s music. Here’s to hearing more in a few years!

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

Alaria Chamber Ensemble in Review

Yuri Vodovoz, violin; David Oei, piano; Guest Artists Tzu-En Lee, viola; Julian Schwarz, cello; Donovan Stokes, double bass

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 8, 2019

It was a great joy to anticipate the Alaria Chamber Ensemble’s recital at Weill Hall this past weekend, for several reasons – among them the programming itself. The inclusion of a premiere always heightens a listener’s interest (or ought to), and on this afternoon’s program there was to be the world premiere of Eric Ewazen’s Piano Trio No. 2, composed for the Alaria just this year. Surrounding the Ewazen premiere were powerful works by Arvo Pärt, Ernst von Dohnanyi, and Franz Schubert – in particular the ever-popular Quintet in A Major (“Trout”) for piano and strings – so a feast was in store.

The Alaria Chamber Music Program, as one reads in the printed program booklet, has been active since 1984, formerly in residence at Mannes College (The New School for Music), and has been offering master classes, coaching, and concerts at venues throughout the city. The principal performers on this occasion were Alaria board directors Yuri Vodovoz, violinist, and David Oei, a pianist who seems to be simply everywhere on the New York music scene these days. Excellent guest artists were violist Tzu-En Lee, cellist Julian Schwarz, and double bassist Donovan Stokes.

Before even a note was played, one received the impression that the Alaria is run as a well-oiled machine (one can learn more about them at www.alaria.org). A beautiful program booklet with helpful and thorough program notes by Lawrence Bein deserves mention, considering that we complain often enough about poor and patchy notes – or a complete lack of them. Words of introduction were spoken from the stage by Artistic Director Yuri Vodovoz and Chairman of the Board Peter Frank, and the audience learned that prior Alaria commissions have included works by Paul Schoenfield, Daniel Brewbaker, and Peter Schickele – an impressive enrichment of the chamber music repertoire.

Sunday’s program opened with Arvo Pärt’s elegiac work Mozart-Adagio for Violin, Cello, and Piano (1992) written in memory of the violinist Oleg Kagan, who died in 1990 at age 44. The work is quite haunting, framing and adorning, with dissonances and fragments, the Adagio movement of Mozart’s Piano Sonata K. 280. The trio played it with utter immersion, though at times for this listener the sound was a bit too live and “present” for the otherworldliness of the piece.

The perfect sound was achieved throughout Dohnanyi’s Serenade in C for string trio, Op. 10, played by Mr. Vodovoz with Tzu-En Lee and Julian Schwarz. This five-movement Serenade, composed 1902-4 when the composer was in his mid-twenties, is full of joy and energy, captured well by this ensemble. Each musician had his stunning moments – among them a ravishing viola line from Ms. Lee in the second movement Romanza and some honeyed lyricism from Mr. Vodovoz in the fourth movement Tema con Variazione – but one appreciated in a subtler, more cumulative way the musicianship of Mr. Schwarz, who was responsive in every moment, playing with a beautiful burnished tone when he came to the fore. The Serenade has its treacherous moments – among them the octaves in the frenetic and chromatic central Scherzo, where increasing efforts to match intonation perfectly tend to receive diminishing returns (as opposed to simply yielding to the motoric frenzy, scratchiness notwithstanding); in general, though, one savored Dohnanyi’s exuberance throughout, as these three musicians worked quite well together. Many moments found them melding into a vibrant collective sound, and they clearly delighted in the double-stops and energy of the Finale.

Eric Ewazen’s Piano Trio No.2 followed. This listener has appreciated Mr. Ewazen’s music since hearing his Ballade, Pastorale, and Dance for flute, horn, and piano some years ago, so this premiere was met with avid interest. For those unfamiliar with Mr. Ewazen’s music, he has tended to be (at least based on what this listener has heard) unabashedly tonal, but with a voice that is all his own. He states in his refreshingly clear notes that his influences include the music of Copland, Bernstein, and (from his days at Eastman), Howard Hanson, as a hearing of this trio would attest. The Piano Trio No. 2 is a work that many audiences will be apt to find immediately appealing, as it encompasses lucid neo-classicism, earnest lyricism, and bracing brilliance in the finale. Overall, this listener enjoyed the piece, though not quite as much as the earlier flute-horn-piano work (as some stretches seemed just a bit facilely developed, almost glib – perhaps completed in haste?); that said, it was full of engaging ideas, and with the passion invested in it by the performers, especially by Mr. Oei, who showed the devotion of a champion, it emerged as compelling and closed the first half in triumph. Enthusiastic ovations brought Mr. Ewazen to the stage for a bow, and the commission benefactor, Heather Marcus, was given well-deserved thanks as well.

After intermission came Schubert’s “Trout” Piano Quintet, adding double bassist Donovan Stokes to the four musicians of the first half, Mr. Vodovoz, Mr. Schwartz, Mr. Oei, and Ms. Lee. Clearly, as one could hear from the start, these musicians made up a felicitous five. Schubert added to an already rich musical afternoon, and one already looks forward to the next Alaria program. Congratulations to Alaria, and long may they thrive as an asset to NY cultural life!

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

AGP Agency New York Presents Kristóf Baráti, Bence Szepesi, and Éva Polgár, in Review

Kristóf Baráti, Violin; Bence Szepesi, Clarinet; Éva Polgár, Piano

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Sunday, November 24, 2019

Sunday November 24^th was quite a day for the clarinet in New York, as this musician found herself assigned to review two excellent clarinet concerts within hours of each other. The first concert of the afternoon, at Zankel Hall, was actually a chamber program featuring Hungarian clarinetist Bence Szepesi, whom I had had the pleasure of hearing and reviewing favorably for New York Concert Review last September, as he kicked off a year of touring with a Weill Hall recital (Bence Szepesi in Review). Mr. Szepesi’s Zankel appearance Sunday marked the end of his touring year with a program of Khachaturian, Schumann, Brahms, and Bartók, duos and trios that corralled the talents of two compatriots, violinist Kristóf Baráti and pianist Éva Polgár. All three have fine credentials, awards, international performances, and recordings, and under the aegis of the AGP Agency they gave us a remarkable afternoon of music.

Starting with strength is usually a good idea, and this trio did just that with the Trio in G minor for Clarinet, Violin, and Piano (1932), an early masterpiece of Aram Khachaturian. One simply doesn’t hear this trio every day, so it was a treat to reacquaint oneself with it in the capable hands of these three musicians. They showed a strong affinity for its emotional power and seemed to revel in the exotic atmosphere and winding ornamented phrases that reflect the composer’s own Armenia, along with Uzbek and other folk influences.

Mr. Szepesi sustained his long, luscious lines with effortless fluidity, as one could expect from the last recital, but the pleasant surprise here was the violinist Mr. Baráti, whom this listener had never heard, despite his very active performing life. Mr. Baráti’s tone has a sweetness that surely owes a partial debt to his very special instrument, the 1703 “Lady Harmsworth” Stradivarius (an instrument so inspiring to him that he in fact named his 2016 disc of encores “The Soul of Lady Harmsworth”). No violin plays itself, of course, and Mr. Baráti showed musicianly instincts at every turn. He and Mr. Szepesi melded beautifully, and the Khachaturian, with its intertwining lines was the perfect match for them. Ms. Polgár was exemplary in her handling of the piano part. She established a hypnotic tone for the first movement, maintained a solid framework for the highly rhapsodic writing, was precise in what were sometimes torrents of passagework, and skillfully effected decisive tempo changes for the three (as in the last movement). One could hardly imagine performers better suited to this work than these three.

Following the Khachaturian came Schumann, his Drei Fantasiestücke (Op. 73), for clarinet and piano. These were well performed overall, though this listener sensed that the comfort level was not as great here as in the Khachaturian. From the opening, which Schumann marks Zart und mit Ausdruck (Tender and with expression), the measured tempo seemed to convey reticence rather than intimacy. Such reactions are of course personal, but one wondered whether the duo of Polgár and Szepesi had yet reached a true meeting of the minds. The second piece, Lebhaft, leicht (Lively, light) achieved just the right breeziness – with the pianist even approximating a reedy sound herself – but the third piece, Rasch und mit Feuer (Quick and with fire) found doubts returning. What one usually thinks of as impulsiveness in this movement verged on skittishness here, and sure enough (as technical ease does often match interpretive decisiveness) there were glitches. All ended with brio, though, even if – to this listener – the final moments had a bit too much dispatch and almost a Mozartean lightness.

This listener, though always hoping to enjoy all performances, was braced to dislike the next work on the program, as one read that it was to be a clarinet-piano arrangement (by Bence Szepesi) of the eternally loved Intermezzo in A major, Op. 118, No. 2 for piano by Brahms, a work that stands in perfection with no adornment or adaptation; to my great surprise, however, I enjoyed it thoroughly. Mr. Szepesi’s arrangement showed good fidelity to the score, with the added virtue that all of Brahms’s singing phrases had the penetrating and sustained sound for which pianists strive. The duo played it with great sensitivity. Ms. Polgár gets kudos for the restraint needed to play such arrangements without diving into the original – she supported the clarinet in perfect balance.

A strong finish was in store at this point, as the trio took on Bartók’s exciting Contrasts for Violin, Clarinet, and Piano (1938-40). The three gave it an energetic ride, each player making child’s play out of the wild ranges, runs, cadenzas, and brilliant passagework. The first movement, Verbunkos (Recruiting Dance), found Mr. Szepesi in especially fine form with its virtuoso demands. The second movement, Pihenő (strangely: Relaxation) found all three united in a conception of mysterious simmering, as the music invites with its eerie trills and sense foreboding. The third and final movement Sebes (Fast Dance) was stunningly played by all three in impressive synchronization through lightning fast runs and imitative patterns. Mr. Baráti’s technique was stellar in the cadenza.

The Contrasts are always a revelation to hear, with many jazzy elements, including an opening movement that Bartók himself admitted owes a debt to the Blues movement of Ravel’s Sonata No. 2. Its history is fascinating as well. It was composed in response to a letter from the great Hungarian violinist Joseph Szigeti, though ultimately commissioned by legendary clarinetist Benny Goodman. Goodman and Szigeti gave it the premiere with Bartók at the piano in Carnegie Hall in 1940 (before there was a Zankel Hall), As one listened to this Sunday’s trio (which perhaps deserves a name if they wish to continue as a group), one couldn’t help thinking that they should give the work a repeat performance on its 80^th anniversary in 2020. Bravi tutti!

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

Wa Concerts presents Wind and Fire in Review

The New York Licorice Ensemble: clarinetists Ayako Oshima, Akari Yamamoto, Michiyo Suzuki, Ikuko Tsukamoto, Fusayo Oike, Yumi Ito, Chie Matsuura, Saerom Kim

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

Sunday, November 24, 2019

Just when one cannot imagine Wa Concerts getting any more delicious, they do, and this past weekend they offered Licorice, not the confection, but the delightful assemblage of clarinetists known as the New York Licorice Ensemble (though knowing Wa there was probably some of that confection around too, as they offer a veritable feast to the audience after each concert). The New York Licorice Ensemble, named for the instrument’s jazz-age sobriquet “licorice stick,” is composed of thirteen award-winning clarinetists, of whom we heard eight (all female) on this occasion, led by founder-director Ayako Oshima. Nine of the ensemble’s clarinetists live in Japan, while four live in New York, but they have toured widely and recorded on the Penguin Record and NAR labels in Japan. This concert was your reviewer’s first hearing of them, but one trusts there will be many more, as they seem destined for larger audiences than what the intimate Tenri space can hold (to read more about them visit: The New York Licorice Ensemble.

The program “had us at hello” with George Gershwin’s ever-popular Three Preludes (1926), originally for piano but arranged here by Satoshi Ipponjima for E-flat Clarinet, five B-flat clarinets, and two bass clarinets. The sultry opening of the Prelude No. 1 was delivered winningly by the leader, Ms. Oshima, and the subsequent syncopated basses were so delightfully raunchy that one almost laughed out loud – it didn’t hurt that several performers moved expressively to the rhythms, particularly Ms. Suzuki whose “dance partner” here was a glorious bass clarinet that she handled with panache, despite it being around her own height. The semicircle of these varied instruments, played with varied styles by women of all different ages, was an almost Seussian spectacle, and the energy of the players was infectious.

As anyone who has played this Gershwin set knows, some musical challenges lie in the bluesy Prelude No. 2, which contrasts freely improvisatory outpourings over a bass that is steady to the point of obtuseness. This ensemble nailed it, with Ms. Oshima projecting plaintiveness, urgency, and surrender in her lines, and the accompanying clarinetists staying with her but without yielding to excessive empathy. The contrasting middle section was just right too. The third and final Prelude took off with fire, finishing the set to great applause – a great start to the program.

The next selection, on a more serious note, was Mozart’s Adagio in B-Flat major (1783-4), for 2 clarinets and 3 basset horns, K. 411, one of the sublime creations that reflects Mozart’s love of these instruments. All five parts were performed in beautiful balance, with a transparency that illuminated each suspension and allowed even the slightest accompanying figures to live and breathe without overwhelming the rest. This ensemble is composed of superb musicians, and they clearly work exceptionally well together with Ms. Oshima’s inspirational leadership.

Elliott Carter’s Canonic Suite for 4 clarinets (1939) followed in three movements, Fanfare, Nocturne, and Tarantella. In keeping with the tradition of commentary that helps make Wa concerts so interesting, Charles Neidich (Wa’s Artistic Director and husband of Ms. Oshima) introduced the work with some background, including a quotation from the Carter that “writing these canons was so complicated that I never did it again.” The musicians navigated this complexity with ease, in tightly knit performances. Moments seemed a bit too bright for Tenri’s very resonant space, but it was otherwise a fascinating addition to the program.

The first half ended with pairings based on the Japanese folk song Kokiriko, the first one for six players by Satoshi Ipponjima (b. 1986) entitled Minimal de KOKIRIKO (2015), and not surprisingly filled with minimalist elements. Though starting as a relaxed warmly harmonized folk setting, it moved to fast perpetual motion repeated patterns, which the ensemble handled with amazing synchronization. The second Kokiriko setting, for seven players and entitled Sasara Kokiriko (2015), was by Ginka Mizuki, whom Ms. Oshima described coyly as a “mystery composer” that only the ensemble’s Michiyo Suzuki knows well (as in “alter ego” well). It was good to hear a work from one who knows this ensemble’s capabilities, and the piece was a joy, from its rather formal opening through to its syncopated and improvisatory dance section. One hopes to hear more from Ms. Mizuki.

After intermission, we heard another pairing based on Japanese folk song, starting with Mount Semba Fantasy for seven instruments by Yuriko Keino (b. 1956) and moving to Simultaneous Variations for six instruments by Lukas Ligeti (b. 1965, and the son of composer György Ligeti). The Keino piece we were told was meant to evoke images of the playful Raccoon Dog, an important entity in Japanese mythology and folklore, and that spirit of play certainly emerged (with the help of percussive water bottles and other inventive touches). The Simultaneous Variations marked this reviewer’s first encounter with the younger Ligeti’s music, but one was struck by its light spirit. It showed a clever inventiveness that invites a listener to further explore this next Ligeti generation.

A return to Mozart followed, the heavenly Adagio K. 580a (1789). At the time of Mozart’s death two years after it was begun, this Adagio remained unfinished, and though numerous completions have been made in various instrumentations (Angerer, Beyer, Lucarelli, Renz, etc.), we heard here a masterful one for clarinet and 3 basset horns by none other than Wa’s own Director and clarinetist extraordinaire, Charles Neidich. It was a memorable journey to hear and beautifully played.

The program concluded with Mr. Neidich’s Chi-lai (2013), a work written for 12 instruments but revised for this occasion’s eight instruments, including five B-flat clarinets, two bass clarinets and an E-flat clarinet. Fighting one of the season’s wonderful colds, this listener couldn’t quite catch all of Mr. Neidich’s verbal description of the piece, but the music was intriguing and certainly evoked growing power, with textures ranging from chirping seconds to giant masses of sound, as perhaps only such a master of this instrument could create. One reservation was that (despite one’s cold) the high sounds were piercing to an overwhelming degree in this very live space, necessitating some covering of the ears – eight clarinets at full volume may in fact be too much for the Tenri space, but one looks forward to a second hearing with all the circumstances ideal.

Quibbles aside, Wa put together another resounding success, and once again, as if to put mere mortals to shame, the evening’s star clarinetist herself, Ayako Oshima, had prepared a magnificent buffet supper to follow. How it was all possible one can’t even guess, but perhaps the audience will figure it out at the next Wa concert, December 8: Wa Concert Series .

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

Wa Concert Series presents Memory and the Expressiveness of Time in Review

Charles Neidich, clarinet; Vera Beths, violin; Mohamed Shams, piano

Friday, October 20, 2019 at 7:30pm

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

Wa Concerts, held at the Tenri Cultural Institute, are unique in their pairing of performances at the highest level with insightful musical and philosophical themes, all in an intimate environment that allows the audience to connect with the artists (and to enjoy gourmet offerings throughout the evening). For those of us lucky listeners who have been to one or more of these concerts, we may be getting spoiled, but the revelations continue.

Sunday’s concert, entitled “Memory and the Expressiveness of Time” was one such revelatory program. Its theme could have also related to Austria (with one lone work by German composer Sigfrid Karg-Elert) because most of the program was devoted to the Second Viennese School of music, Schoenberg, Berg, and Webern, with some Schubert representing the retronymic “First” Viennese School. As things stood, though, the chosen title drew the listener into what one could regard as a sort of expressionistic funhouse, each work inspiring meditation on music’s relation to time in intriguing ways.

Introductory comments from Charles Neidich (in his capacity as Director and curator of the Wa series) made reference to the fact that music exists in time, thus establishing the foundation for a program replete with more than the usual temporal illusions and memory manipulations, with phrases and structures appearing compressed, expanded, in retrograde, as palindromes, and so on. One could try to paraphrase, but one might risk doing a disservice to Mr. Neidich’s eloquence, not to mention growing dizzy in the effort! Suffice it to say that, once one has meditated on these phenomena, one listens rather differently.

The concert itself was superbly performed by the three featured musicians, clarinetist Charles Neidich, violinist Vera Beths, and pianist Mohamed Shams. The music began with Berg’s Vier Stücke, Op. 5, for clarinet and piano, played by Mr. Neidich with Mr. Shams at the piano. The duo captured these remarkable miniatures with vivid expressiveness and cohesion. Mr. Neidich, as ever, was one with the music in ways that impress it indelibly upon “the mind’s ear.” Mr. Shams, new to this reviewer, was simply outstanding throughout the evening in a string of wide-ranging challenges. He hails from Egypt, having studied in Cairo, then at the Royal Conservatory of Music in Scotland and the Manhattan School of Music, and he is currently on the faculty of the Hartt School of Music. He has performed widely as soloist and chamber musician and has been winner of numerous distinctions; his greatest distinction, however, is his playing itself, and what this reviewer heard from him reflected keen intellect, sensitivity, and commitment – all of which should keep him much in demand in contemporary music circles.

Schubert’s Violin Sonata in A Major, D. 574 followed, featuring violinist Vera Beths in collaboration with Mr. Shams. Ms. Beths is a veteran of the international music scene, with a particularly strong background in contemporary music. She has premiered many violin concerti, including Isang Yun’s Third Violin Concerto and has collaborated as soloist with numerous distinguished conductors including Haitink, Kondrashin, and Maazel. She is currently Professor at The Royal Conservatory at The Hague and the Sweelinck Academy in Amsterdam and leads the prizewinning period instrument ensemble L’Archibudelli. Though her background certainly prepared one for her excellence in the Berg Kammerkonzert which closed the program, one was struck by her gracious ease in this sublime Schubert work. Of course, music is music, but not every violinist can move so seamlessly from the world of Schoenberg’s school to the music of Schubert – described by Schumann and Stravinsky in heavenly terms, as Mr. Neidich reminded us. The juxtaposition of the early and late Viennese styles was inspired, setting off Schubert’s particular elegance and pacing, and there was a beautiful conversational fluency between Ms. Beths and Mr. Shams.

After intermission we heard Webern’s very famous Variations, Op. 27 played by Mr. Shams. With acute focus and exceptional control, he played from memory, projecting this work’s concise expressiveness to a tee. One marveled at his grasp of this difficult music, but also at the accordion-like flexibility of musical time, as projected from composer to composer.

As if one needed still more food for thought, we heard a composer from the same era, Sigfrid Karg-Elert (1877 – 1933), a student of Reinecke and largely known through works for organ and harmonium. Mr Neidich played his Sonata for Solo Clarinet Op. 110 and it was an extraordinary journey. Mr. Neidich draws a kaleidoscope of sounds from his clarinet, rendering each sound memorable in a way that is essential if one wants the listener to note interval patterns, for example the opening fifths and seconds that recur and appear in retrograde, and so on. It is always interesting to contemplate the role of memory in music, but first comes the act of making it memorable. It was.

The concert closed with Berg’s Adagio from the Kammerkonzert für Klavier und Geige mit 13 Bläsern (Chamber Concerto for Piano and Violin with 13 Wind Instruments), composed in 1925. The Adagio from it was arranged as a separate piece for trio by the composer and was premiered in 1927. The evening’s performers shone in the works expansively expressive gestures and phrases, and one was left wanting to hear it all again and meditate for several more hours. Bravi tutti!

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

A Carnegie Hall Premiere, 102 years late: Carnegie Hall Presents Marc-André Hamelin in Review

Marc-André Hamelin, piano

Tuesday, October 22, 2019 at 8pm

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Saying that Marc-André Hamelin played an amazing concert is like saying water is wet –how does one make that sound like news? It simply cannot be a shock to anyone to hear that his Tuesday night recital at Carnegie Hall, including works of Scriabin, Prokofiev, Samuil Feinberg, and Schubert, was yet another tour de force, but it was astonishing in new ways.

Mr. Hamelin still handles unthinkable pianistic and musical challenges with the sangfroid of a neurosurgeon and the inexplicable ease of a wizard; however, for those still pigeonholing him as the pioneer of barely-known or barely-playable works, he is clearly much more than that, as one felt powerfully in his Schubert Sonata in B-flat major (D. 960) which closed the program. For the record, Mr. Hamelin has by now performed as much standard repertoire as non-standard – perhaps more – but reputations are slow to change. Fortunately, standard vs. non-standard is not an either-or proposition, and the combination of well-loved mainstream repertoire with discovery and rediscovery was one of the special beauties of Tuesday’s program.

This reviewer has for almost thirty years been grateful for performances and recordings by Mr. Hamelin, sometimes the only ones available for certain works, and though his biography modestly states that he has recorded a “broad range of repertoire” the word “broad” doesn’t begin to convey the encyclopedic range of his more than sixty albums (starting with letter A for Alkan). We had a prime example of such championing on Tuesday, with the Sonata No. 3 (1916-17) by Russian composer-pianist Samuil Feinberg (1890-1962).

Feinberg’s sonatas draw upon formidable pianistic skill, contrapuntal mastery, and a wildly adventurous tonal imagination, yet his music suffered delayed exposure in the West, as with many other Soviet composers. Even amid the pianistic bounty that is New York, Feinberg Sonata “sightings” are still rare, with the Sonata No. 3 being the rarest. So rare is the latter, in fact, that this evening marked the Carnegie Hall premiere of the Sonata No. 3, as noted in the program. Though the Sonata No. 3 was composed during World War I, it was not published until 1974, twelve years after Feinberg’s death, and beyond matters of the score, the demands on the performer are immense. Demands on the listener are considerable as well, and so even this reviewer, a Feinberg admirer (and owner of scores to all of Feinberg’s sonatas except No. 3), had trouble assimilating its sprawling scope. If Scriabin’s sonatas run the gamut from romantic outpourings to the rantings of a madman, Feinberg’s do similarly, but with added digressions, reiterations, elaborations, and intricacies of texture – and just when one thinks it has all reached a saturation point, a fugue gets thrown into the last movement! Some of it is frankly overwhelming, but the many glorious moments – including some Medtneresque patches of heaven – tell one it must be reheard, and probably by this same pianist – one looks forward to that. Complete love at first hearing is a lot to ask with such a work, but one can only be grateful to have heard it first from such an exceptional musician. It was a fitting climax to close the first half, which opened with Scriabin’s poetic Fantasy in B minor, Op. 28, given an unusually gentle unfolding, followed by Prokofiev’s biting Sarcasms, Op. 17, shot with perfect, jolting attacks.

A second half completely devoted to Schubert’s Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960, was a dream come true after the tortuous complexity of Feinberg, and Mr. Hamelin blessed it with a patient reverence well suited to its autumnal place, from late in Schubert’s brief life. Some of it (naturally the second movement Andante Sostenuto) was glacially slow, probably slower than some are accustomed to hearing it, but this reviewer loved it, as did many Care was taken to achieve myriad gradations of sound down to the faintest pianissimo, and wonderful individual touches emerged. Especially wonderful was a seemingly improvisatory quality, as if the pianist were capturing the very moment of decision where the composer took a familiar beginning of a phrase into a new direction. Such moments are among the reasons why, even with miraculous recordings (and Mr. Hamelin did record this for Hyperion in 2018), we still need live performances.

Ardent fans brought the pianist back for three encores. We heard Fauré’s unjustly neglected Barcarolle No. 3, which positively glittered, followed by Debussy’s sixth Prelude from Book II, Général Lavine – eccentric, with all its jaunty quirks accentuated perfectly, and finally Mr. Hamelin’s own composition Music Box. Awash with pedal in a delicate haze of treble patterns – with just a smattering of piquant dissonance – it created an effect similar to that of Liadov’s Musical Snuffbox and other bonbons favored by the early twentieth century’s “Golden Age” pianists. It was good to see that spirit living on, including through such charming miniatures. Mr. Hamelin has certainly earned his place among the titans.

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

An Interview with composer Gustavo Díaz-Jerez

Maghek: Seven Symphonic Poems about the Canary Islands

In 2016 this reviewer had the pleasure of reviewing a superb video recording of the complete Iberia of Albeniz for New York Concert Review, played by pianist Gustavo Díaz-Jerez (https://nyconcertreview.com/reviews/dvd-in-review-pianist-gustavo-diaz-jerez-plays-iberia-by-isaac-albeniz/). As it was a performer’s review, one neglected to mention the fact that his career as a composer was thriving as well. His compositions have in fact been heard throughout Europe performed by distinguished instrumentalists, conductors, and orchestras in Spain, Slovenia, Italy, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Hungary – and one is probably omitting several countries.

Currently Mr. Díaz-Jerez is awaiting the release on Signum Classics of his double CD recording, Maghek: Seven Symphonic Poems about the Canary Islands, with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra – arguably one of the finest orchestras in Europe – under conductor Eduardo Portal. Mr. Díaz-Jerez took time out from his busy schedule recently to speak (via Skype) with New York Concert Review. Prior to our interview, he summarized some key points about the cycle as follows:

“The main idea about the cycle Maghek (this is how the Canary Islands aborigines called the Sun-goddess) is a personal evocation of the natural environment of the Canary Islands, conveyed (somewhat oneirically) to sound. For inspiration, I have focused in particular places in each island as well as in specific historical facts. Of course, there are many common elements among the seven works. I have a very strong scientific background, especially in mathematics. I think music and mathematics are very closely related, and to me the idea of “abstract” beauty is common to both. I’m also very fond of the concept of “emergence”: the idea that a complex system is more than the mere sum of its constituent parts. This phenomenon is seen all over the natural world, and it’s even present in pure mathematics. I like to think of my pieces much like living organisms, complex, emergent structures that arise from the sum of many, carefully intertwined, simpler parts. I’m also a computer programmer. I created some time ago a program (FractMus) that translates mathematical structures into musical material you can use for composition. Here is a link if you are interested: www.fractmus.com”

Rorianne Schrade for New York Concert Review:

Thank you – this is all so interesting! Now to start, I would love to hear about your recording sessions in Glasgow.

Gustavo Díaz-Jerez:

Right, it was last week. Well, this project has been going on for ten years actually, because the first of the pieces I composed is called Aranfaybo … it’s inspired by the island of El Hierro. That was composed in 2008, and that was the one performed in ten European countries. It was a tour with the Hungarian Chamber Orchestra. So that was one, and then, when I composed the piece, I thought well maybe I can write one orchestral piece for – inspired by – every island [for those unfamiliar with the Canary Islands, there are seven, including Tenerife, the birthplace of Mr. Díaz-Jerez].

NYCR: Wonderful …

G D-J: So, the second one was Ymarxa … and that was premiered by the Royal Philharmonic, Charles Dutoit conducting. And then every year after that I composed one of them, well more or less. Some of them are longer than the others.

The shortest one is Aranfaybo which is thirteen minutes, and the longest one is a piano concerto, which is one of the newer ones, which is about twenty-five minutes. One of them is a clarinet concerto called Ayssuragan, with my friend Cristo Barrios, who recorded the piece in Glasgow. And the other one is a piano concerto … I wrote it for a friend of mine who is a pianist specializing in contemporary repertoire. He is a Spanish pianist, Ricardo Descalzo.

Both the clarinet concerto and the piano concerto are not pieces thought of as the Romantic kind of concerto for soloists. They’re actually like orchestral pieces where the soloist is kind of part of the orchestra but has a very important role by itself.

Since I am a pianist myself, I was very concerned with the difficulty of the piece, because I think the problem with many contemporary piano solo concerti, in general, is that they are usually very, very difficult to play, to rehearse, to perform. So, I was very concerned with that.

You know de Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain?

NYCR: Yes.

G D-J: That’s my idea of the piece, a piece which is more concertante than Rachmaninoff or Brahms. It’s very playable. It’s not so difficult that non-contemporary specialists would say no. Any pianist would be able to enjoy and play it.

NYCR: Good!

G D-J: Although there are some extended techniques inside the piano. Everything is written from the perspective of the performer … everything. Not only the piano part but the orchestral part. I think that’s very important nowadays, because, you know if you see the programming 95% is music from the past, from the nineteenth century, eighteenth century. And very little contemporary music is done in my opinion. And there must be a reason.

One of the reasons I think is that the amount of effort that needs to be put into it to rehearse and to learn the music is greater than the music of the past. And it’s maybe because every composer was also a performer. I think that makes a big difference. Not all contemporary music is difficult to perform but many pieces are, so I wanted to make sure that my pieces are as easy to rehearse and play …

NYCR: and idiomatic?

G D-J: yes, they are written very ergonomically for the instruments. And that was something I learned in the recording.

The orchestra is absolutely unbelievable. Their reading is hard to believe. They read it at sight… I mean I sent the scores like three months in advance, but they are capable of reading it almost at sight. I’m not saying they did but … (laughs) it’s unbelievable. I mean, there are seven pieces, the total is like 140 minutes of music…

NYCR: and how many hours of recording did you have with them?

G D-J: We had eight sessions of three hours with a twenty-minute pause in each one…so that’s about I would say twenty-two hours more or less … so, basically the plan was that they play the piece from beginning to end, and they did it so well that I think it would be good for a concert. They played the piece through, and it was already at such a high level, that … (laughing) I was really amazed.

NYCR: And were there any surprises?

G D-J: Yes, especially in the newer pieces, in the ones that haven’t been performed, I found out that certain things didn’t work as I expected in terms of balance. That’s the most difficult thing for a composer. You know even Mozart had to change some things in the Jupiter Symphony. Once he heard the piece, he had to adjust some of the dynamics of the instruments. So that was kind of a surprise. Some things, I thought they would be too soft for instance. I tend to write the harp part a little bit louder …and the harpist had such a big sound that I had to tell her, you know, just a few dynamic markings less. But in general [with] everything I’m very, very happy, because everything in general worked as I expected.

NYCR: And do you envision it all (the entire two-and-a-half-hour cycle) being done in a concert at some point, or …

G D-J: Well, it’s a possibility, but I think it would be kind of too much of the same composer in one concert. Our idea is to have several orchestras play one of the pieces. We are working on that here in Spain and possibly also abroad in the UK… or maybe two of them.

NYCR: I see. When we’re talking about difficulty for the musicians, I want to bring up difficulty for the audience in terms of understanding. Now imagine I’m a five-year-old, and I hear something about fractals and L-systems in your music, and I say what’s that? How would you explain the music to a five-year-old?

G D-J: (laughs) That’s a hard question really. Well, you know, you have to be very poetic. When you are speaking to people who don’t know … I mean they don’t really have to know what’s going on underground to enjoy the music.

I would say these things I use, mathematical procedures, are really just like a scaffolding. It’s a way I use to get raw musical material, like prime matter, musical prime matter. I think of it as a painter or a sculptor, for instance clay or iron or granite, whatever… In itself it’s not a work of art… but it’s what you do with it.

NYCR: It’s a medium.

G D-J: Material, exactly. So that mathematical underpinning is just a medium. And what that gives me are structures, musical structures, because what I do is: I take those mathematical procedures, and I make a correspondence with the musical language.

So those structures which are coherent – they are not random, of course – they have coherency – they are translated to the musical language, and that becomes a medium. That in itself is not a work of art. The material is melodies, rhythms, forms … and I take them, and I make them into the timeline of the work of art.

It’s like, you know, Beethoven, the beginning of the solo of the Third Concerto, you know the scale, the C minor scale. In itself, the scale is just a scale. But when Beethoven puts that outside of time structure in the timeline of the piece, that scale becomes a work of art.

And that’s what I do with this mathematical-inspired material, exactly that. Because you know nowadays, I mean you can’t compose like Beethoven. I mean tonality is not for the music of art in my opinion. I mean you can use it for, maybe for commercial music, but you can’t write in C minor today, in my opinion.

NYCR: (silent disagreement about C minor and the tonality issue but realization that my opinion is not the topic of the day).

G D-J: I know this is very personal, but I think, you know, that that language was exploited up to its maximum, and we have to find new ways …

So, the important thing for me is first, that the music is written for human beings, I mean thinking about that someone has to play that and has to learn, to employ time … I mean you can’t expect a performer to be twelve hours practicing your music… it has to be as easy as the music of the past … in general…especially orchestral music. If you write for a soloist, then you can write more virtuosically, but if you write very difficult music for a large ensemble or an orchestra, then your music won’t be performed. So, I use those mathematical underpinnings from a very, very musical and practical point of view.

You know, when one of my pieces Chigaday for the island of La Gomera was premiered, I have a group of friends here in Madrid (non-musicians, you know I play golf, and we go together), and I invited them to the concert, and they appreciated the music. I mean they thought it was, for them it was kind of alien, but in the good sense. They found strange sonorities and … but it was a very, very pleasant experience. So, I think everything depends on what you do with the material.

I think just like in nature, repetition is an important part of the complex system in nature … in music too, we are prepared as human beings, we have evolved to recognize patterns both visually and aurally, so I think a piece of music be it written in the tonal system or any other system, if it doesn’t have a certain amount of repetition, something you can remember, then it becomes incomprehensible.

NYCR: I agree.

G D-J: and I think that’s part of the key in writing contemporary music, that the audience can enjoy and understand.

NYCR: Yes. Some of that repetition I assume you’re referring to is what is embedded in the material and some of it is in your manipulation of the material.

G D-J: Exactly … absolutely. You know I believe my music is quite complex in terms of sonority and orchestral texture, but I try always to be concerned with that repetition of certain elements. I mean I’m not talking about repeating the same thing over and over, but relationships between the instruments… something most composers have done throughout history. Somehow, we must not forget that that is one of the keys of understanding anything, not only music but any piece of information, be it music or literature or painting… it has to have some amount of recognizable patterns, I believe.

NYCR: Yes. I know you created your own program and made it available (at fractmus.com), so other composers could use this program… so are you starting a whole school of composition, and are others going to use it? and is their music going to have a recognizable quality that relates to yours, or would it be completely different?

G D-J: Well, I know the program has been used for many years, because the program is twenty years old already. I wrote it for my doctoral dissertation in 2000, so it’s almost twenty years old. It’s still alive and kicking, and I’m aware it has been used by many composers. You see the program is so open-ended that the material it gives you can be manipulated in so many ways that every composer can use it in its own way of writing, so I wouldn’t say that I would be able to recognize something that came out of the program. It’s really infinite, because it uses mathematical formulas that translate into numbers and those possibilities are really infinite. It would be impossible to know, unless they said so, but usually they don’t say so. So, what the program is is really what I just said: it translates mathematical formulas into musical elements, like pitch, rhythm, and dynamics… so I’ve used it in many of my pieces.

NYCR: Yes. So, have you written a lot of music without the program?

G D-J: Yes, but I use other structures, not related to the program. But usually in my music, there is always a mathematical hidden layer… kind of in the background, inspired by some mathematical process, but I then use it in a more intuitive way. Like something that I always think … like Beethoven for instance… when he wrote the Pastoral Symphony, where do those melodies come from? They come from culture, from other melodies he heard, maybe from imitating the birdsong, when he took those walks outside of Vienna, right? so it comes from somewhere. So, I kind of mine the computational universe, the mathematical universe to search for structures that I can use as musical material. And of course, I decide… if I try something and I don’t like it, I discard it. It’s a beautiful process, because it’s really a search, a search for what I consider beautiful, of course … some other composer may say, “oh why did you throw out this melody? I think it’s great,” but you know it’s my decision, of course.

NYCR: perhaps a silly question, but say a very eager patron asked you to write something in C minor, what would you do?

G D-J: I wouldn’t. I have to be honest with myself. It would be a commercial kind of commission… I pay you this amount and you do what I say. That’s not a work of art … it’s like, I don’t know how to say it but … a carpenter, you ask “I want you to build a table, a three-legged table made out of rosewood, and do it this way and that way.” OK. He may do a beautiful thing but it’s not a work of art. Because he hasn’t put his own … I don’t want to say … soul or his own spirit, his own true way of working. It would be something commercial.

NYCR: The next thing is about fractals, which you use in your music, and I was reading about the first time the word was used by Mandelbrot in 1975 … you must have been a toddler or not even born.

G D-J: I was five.

NYCR: So, I want to know where in your life did you come to all these ways and thoughts?

G D-J: It was in 1982 when my father bought me a computer, you may have heard of it, the Commodore 64… remember? It was a home computer from the 80’s. The difference between those computers and the computers we have nowadays is that you could program the computer right away. It had a basic programming language, so I started learning the basic programming language, and I started to find out about math and fractals at that time actually, so I became very interested in mathematics and programming. That was the seed of my interest.

NYCR: Fantastic … I see.

G D-J: and I remember writing programs when I was twelve, twelve or thirteen. And I remember a program in the Commodore 64 Basic to map, or translate, how the prime numbers turn into sounds, into musical notes… and they created a kind of melody, that of course at that time I didn’t use it for anything, but I just wanted to know, oh, if instead of numbers you use notes, but with the structure of prime numbers, what will it sound like? So that’s the kind of thing I started doing…

NYCR: Were you one of those rare children who memorized every prime number?

G D-J: No, I know up to 100 but …no, I use them in my music, because you know they create fascinating rhythms, because there are so many gaps. Once you reach a higher number there are many gaps in between. So you can use the prime numbers as a way of creating interesting rhythms. And I use them in every piece in the cycle. The very rhythmical sections are mostly based on prime numbers.

NYCR: That’s fascinating. This all brings to mind the numerical interest of J. S. Bach … we know of it and all as an additional aspect, but often we are mainly aware that it is beautiful.

G D-J: There is a very big mathematical underpinning. A Bach fugue is a fractal musical structure, because it has the subject in different transpositions, at different speeds, and that’s part of the fractal geometry…that’s one of the keys of fractal geometry, repetition of patterns at different scales.

NYCR: … so augmentation and diminution and …

G D-J: Exactly.

NYCR: I never really applied (the term fractal) to earlier music. I see. I wondered also whether you had any earlier composers whom you found particularly vital as influences on your composing.

G D-J: Yes … Debussy, Ravel, Stravinsky I like, and I’m very, very fond of early music composers like Machaut, Ockeghem, Josquin Des Prez, Gesualdo…

NYCR: And you made a magnificent video of the entire Iberia, so I’m sure Albeniz is in there somewhere…

G D-J: And not only his music was very advanced for his time, but also the piano writing was very, very advanced for the time. And also I seem very related to him, because he was a great composer, but he was a pianist too. He was really a performer.

NYCR: I reviewed your recording of Iberia and was so taken with it … you are a superb pianist.

G D-J: Thank you… and I still play it quite often. I play it three or four times a year. It is a very difficult program, because to play the whole thing in one recital is … something.

NYCR: So, you are continuing to combine piano concerts with your schedule?

G D-J: Yes. I also have a chamber music group resident in Tenerife, and we do a lot of chamber music, some of it contemporary, but not only contemporary. We do everything from Baroque to new commissions.

NYCR: I see. Now, when people hear your music, do they say it reminds them of any particular composer?

G D-J: That depends on how much music you have heard. If you are informed about for instance the spectralist school, you can recognize some of the elements. Tristan Mirail or Gérard Grisey. But you know, just like Beethoven and Mozart wrote in the tonal system and sound different, so I sound different than those composers.

NYCR: If you had to choose one movement of your cycle that is your favorite that you would want an audience member to hear first, what would it be?

G D-J: Oh, that’s like choosing between seven of your children. I wouldn’t do that. But I can say that Aranfaybo is the most “classical” piece, and Guanapay, which is the piano concerto is the most experimental.

NYCR: and what are some of the responses to your music that have made you the happiest? … have you had that feeling that “they really get it.”

G D-J: Yes, you know from people who are not used to listening to any classical music. It has happened a few times with my orchestra pieces and with my piano pieces. I was approached by a girl, I mean she wasn’t five but maybe twelve, and really honest about how much she liked my piano pieces. And that’s great.

NYCR: Was that Metaludios?

G D-J: Right. She came with her mother and she was really fascinated by the sonorities and … she didn’t know … she’s not a musician… so that makes me the happiest. Because of course if you know the repertoire, it’s logical that you can appreciate, but if someone is not familiarized with classical music or contemporary music and appreciates your music, then … I’m very happy. But, having said that, I have to write what I have to write. I wouldn’t write something thinking that more people are going to like it. I don’t think that’s an artistic attitude. I think that you have to write what you have to write. Be honest with yourself and of course be concerned about the performer because after all someone has to play your music, but I think if you write think oh, if I put this maybe more people will like it … no, that’s … no.

NYCR: Now I also wondered about the images. There are many images from mythology and geography and geology. How do the visual aspects correspond to the musical? Can you discuss any of that?

G D-J: Right. Well, the whole cycle is really about the natural beauty of the Canary Islands. It’s not about the folk music of the Canary Islands, it’s about the nature of the Canary Islands. So, in the pieces, there are many, many evocations of natural forces. I mean you can hear the sea, I mean I have orchestrated some passages to sound like the waves and the wind. You can listen for instance to the beginning of Chigaday … that’s an evocation of the wind with the sea birds … and not only that, but for instance the ragged textures of the volcanic landscape, because you know the Canary Islands are completely volcanic, like Hawaii is the same type of case. So, I try to evoke musically those things that are very specific to the Canary Islands. And that’s about for instance the geology, but we have amazing forests and they are called laurel forests and they existed in Europe around twenty million years ago. And those forests used to be all over Europe, I think around twenty million years ago, and nowadays I think they are only in the Canary Islands and in Madeira (you know the islands that belong to Portugal) … so that kind of forest is very, very green and with tortuous trees, very humid, it’s amazing… looks like… have you been in the highlands in Scotland? It’s very similar actually. I was so surprised.

NYCR: Oh, and you were just there…

G D-J: Yes, I went to the highlands, some of the most beautiful places I’ve been, and some of the forests look … maybe not the same type of tree but …looks very similar. The tree, the trunk is filled with moss… and in the Canary Islands we have something very similar. So. I tried to evoke that feeling of being in a place, kind of dark and green and misty, and I tried to evoke it with musical texture.

NYCR: So you were born in the Canary Islands, but then you came to the US to the Manhattan School of Music. I am thinking the connection must have been Solomon Mikowsky?

G D-J: Right… Yes!

NYCR: and he has, or did have, a music organization in the Canary Islands.

G D-J: I think the last festival was around 2006… we are trying to revive it …

So yes, I met him in a competition in Madrid, and I was just finishing my studies in Tenerife, so he said “why don’t you come to New York” … and you know I was sixteen at that time, so I came to New York when I was 17, in 1987. So yes, I met him, and he was a wonderful teacher and more than a teacher – he has been almost like a second father. And I have a very close relationship with him … today I wrote an email to him a few hours ago.

NYCR: So are you often in the Canary Islands?

G D-J: Our festival in the auditorium, the resident chamber music group, we play almost every month except September and January. And I go very often … my family, my mother, my siblings live there so I go.

NYCR: Now not that this is important but, is there music in your family? You mentioned your father giving you the computer, and I’m guessing there is a mathematical/scientific interest there …

G D-J: Yes, he’s responsible for me being a musician because he when I was little, my grandmother had an upright piano, and he bought me lessons, and then the conservatory, so … and my mother sang very, very well… she wasn’t a professional singer, but she has a very, very good ear. And my sister is a composer too. Dori is her name, Dori Diaz-Jerez. And we inherited I think the musical talent from my parents, obviously.

NYCR: …and your father played the piano?

G D-J: The violin a little bit and the piano a little bit, but as an amateur…

NYCR: Sometimes the amateur passion is very strong …

G D-J: Yes, right …he made sure we went to the best teachers there, in Tenerife, and then in New York, so … yes, if you don’t have the support of your family it’s very difficult. If you are a child, it’s very hard to become a musician if your parents don’t believe in it…

NYCR: …or if they never listen to it or play it in the house. So … you’ve combined music and science in ways that many cannot.

G D-J: I will tell you a little story. You know my scientific interest…the side of the computers came when I was, I must have been four because my younger brother wasn’t born yet, and we used to live near the beach … my parents have a house near the beach, and we had a long room … and my sister and I, we used to close every door, so everything would be dark, just to play, you know … children. And from the kitchen window, the light of the sun passed through the keyhole of the door, and you know it made a camera obscura … you know what it is, right? So, I realized it was being projected on the wall, the images from outside, like a little movie. And I was so fascinated… and I remember that, and I was four, and my sister was three years old, and I think that kind of awakened my interest for science from there, because it was so breathtaking … I was watching the cars pass, and – because it’s like a camera – and I remember it so vividly, that image. That awakened my curiosity for science, to find out why that happened … it remained with us for many years and I think that made me want to find out things about nature and science …

NYCR: I imagine there must have been a struggle at some point deciding between your love of science and math and music …

G D-J: No, I think my love for music has been greater…I mean I love science of course… but so much to become a scientist … no, my love of music is too great to be just an amateur in that …

NYCR: well, I have so many questions, but … aside from this recording, is there another project coming up ahead?

G D-J: Yes, there is! I hope that by the end of next year or maybe 20-21 I want to record another CD with more piano pieces, my Metaludios.

In the first one I recorded three books of six pieces each, so there are eighteen pieces in total…and I’ve written already 25. So my plan is to record two new books plus an older piece I have, so that would make up another CD. And also maybe some chamber music … I want to record some of my chamber music pieces.

NYCR: Wonderful! Tell us more about the origins of your composing Metaludios…

G D-J: Well, you know, since I’m a performer, a concert pianist, I’ve been composing really all my life. When I started playing the piano people asked me “what do you want to be when you are older” and I said I want to be a composer. That’s what I said when I was ten years old. So, I’ve been composing really all my life. But maybe for the past 25 years I’ve taken it more seriously, and I’ve been writing these pieces for over six years now.

NYCR: and do these (Metaludios) have anything to do with your (computer) programming?

G D-J: Yes. Some of them are. All of them have to do in some way or other with a mathematical idea – not idea, structure.

NYCR: Would a performer, let’s say someone who is not familiar with the technique behind the composition, simply play them?

G D-J: Yes, they could play them without any knowledge of what’s going on underway… but of course as with all music, if you know how it’s constructed, how it’s put together, you know, it makes the piece more available to you.

NYCR: On these recordings you will be playing them?

G D-J: Yes … and I think any good musician can play them. You don’t have to be a specialist to play this kind of music. You have to know how to do certain things, because some of the pieces require extended techniques inside the piano…but everything is very well explained … you’ll see the score. I’ve put QR’s [QR codes] so you can scan with your phone and you can see how it sounds … it takes you to a YouTube video of myself playing the passage, then you know how to do it…because you know, we have the technology to do that … so that clarifies very, very much …everything is very thoroughly explained.

NYCR: Well I can’t wait to hear your orchestral pieces, and I guess I will be able to hear them in a couple of months?

G D-J: Yes, the first edit I will be able to send a first edit in the beginning of November for reviewing …but it will be on the market in February.

NYCR: Very exciting! And I’d love our readers to know a bit more about you as a person… when you are not composing, tell us a bit about you … you are teaching as well.?

G D-J: I teach in San Sebastian, at the conservatory of San Sebastian, the conservatory of the Basque country…

NYCR: So, between your teaching, your concertizing as a pianist and your composing, are you basically making music all day long (aside from golfing which you mentioned). Are there any leisure pursuits?

G D-J: I like to walk with my wife … we take walks every day if we can, because exercising is something that is very important to keep the mind in a good state … but I must say that I feel very. very lucky to be what I am. If you think how many people are struggling in humanity, not only what happens in poor countries like in Africa or in India but others – sometimes, I hate to say it, but they don’t like their work. So, I feel so fortunate to do what I so – it’s amazing – in every sense, in composing, in playing, in teaching, in communicating your ideas to the students… I couldn’t be any happier to be where I am. Sometimes, you know, it’s luck, because if I were born in Somalia, I would probably be struggling, but I was very lucky to be born in Spain …

I also want to express thanks to those involved in the recordings, the conductor of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, Eduardo Portal. He is a close friend and a champion of my music, and he was the one who initiated the recording project. He was awarded the prestigious “Leonardo” grant from the Fundación BBVA (Banco Bilbao Vizcaya Argentaria), which is our main sponsor. Special thanks also go to the soloist in the clarinet concerto (Ayssuragan) Cristo Barrios, to Ricardo Descalzo, the pianist for the piano concerto, and to the sponsors of the recording project, Fundación BBVA, Cabildo de Tenerife, Cabildo de Gran Canaria, and Gobierno de Canarias.

NYCR: Thank you so much for this interview, and we look forward so much to hearing the recordings of your music!

The website for more information is www.maghek.com.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Presents Elżbieta Woleńska in Review

Elżbieta Woleńska, flute; Zhang Moru, piano

Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 4, 2019

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented an exceptional debut this week for flutist Elżbieta Woleńska and collaborative pianist Zhang Moru, in a program listed at various websites as “Frederic Chopin, Pablo Sarasate, and others.” One had really little idea of what was in store, but if the intention was to maximize the surprise, it worked – Chopin turned out to be the least of the offerings (just an arrangement of the Prelude in D-flat, Op. 28, No 15 – popularly known as the “Raindrop” Prelude). The “Sarasate and others” (namely the Carmen Fantasy, Op. 25 and a half-dozen other gems by a variety of composers) combined to make one of the most impressive flute concerts in memory. Each piece was a discovery in its own way, and it was one of those nights when one forgets to look at one’s watch.

For a bit of background, Ms. Woleńska studied flute in Paris and Poland, earning a doctorate and numerous distinctions and awards. She has taught in Poland, along with performing and recording internationally, and currently teaches at Zhaoqing University in China, as does pianist Zhang Moru, who has also won a long list of awards and prizes.

The first work on the program was one by Johann Sedlatzek, entitled Souvenir à Paganini, Grand Variations on the Carnival of Venice. In what was a clever touch of symmetry, the concert ended with the same theme, via Mike Mower’s Deviations on the Carnival of Venice for flute and piano, given alternately jazz, salsa, rock, and other treatments – but more on that later. Suffice it to say that there was such fascination in the programming itself that one’s interest would have been held even without such a high level of playing – but the playing happened to be astonishingly virtuosic.

Beyond the program’s symmetry and the flutist’s mastery, the opportunity to hear music of Sedlatzek (1789 – 1866) is also rare. A Silesian flutist born in Prussia, referred to as “The Niccolò Paganini of Flute,” Sedlatek concertized throughout Europe, played alongside violin virtuoso Niccolò Paganini, and perhaps most memorably he served as principal flutist in the world premiere of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in 1824 under Beethoven himself. One heard immediately Sedlatzek’s kinship with Paganini, and if readers want to listen to it, along with other works by Sedlatzek, one can obtain Ms. Woleńska’s recording entitled Souvenir at her website (https://www.wolenska.net/music) and other online stores.

Incidentally, after the Sedlatzek, Ms. Woleńska thanked the audience and commented that the “grand, grand, grand, grandson” of Sedlatzek was in the audience, and he stood to acknowledge the applause. Though such connections may not be rare in the classical music world, they are interesting to contemplate.

For a more lyrical spell, Lensky’s Aria from Tchaikovsky’s opera Eugene Onegin followed, and its plaintive poetry came through well, despite the jump from tenor voice to flute. On a perhaps fussy note, no mention was made of the transcriber, though one guesses that it was the Guy Braunstein version played by Emmanuel Pahud and others. One cannot assume these things though (nor memorize each version’s distinctions), and transcriptions ought not to be relegated to a pile of generic products by anonymous workers. Similarly, the Sarasate Carmen Fantasy, Op. 25, which followed (originally for violin) had no mention of the transcriber – and there are several versions out there – but this one may even have been Ms. Woleska’s own. In any case it fit her like the proverbial glove, its five movements layering brilliance upon brilliance. She sailed through its florid passages with dazzling skill, capturing perfectly the coquetry of the habanera, and fluttering her way through unthinkably fast repeated notes. Just when one imagined that the pyrotechnics could not increase, they did. Only a few excessively shrill moments in the Lento third movement detracted, possibly unavoidable in this arrangement.

The ensemble with Zhang Moru was excellent throughout and riveting at times, such as in the final accelerando of the Sarasate. The pianist kept a firm command of the evening’s wide array of challenges, all with polish and a presence that was unassuming, generally allowing the flutist to shine. One’s only reservations of the evening in terms of the collaboration were a few rough moments in an early triplet section of the Sedlatzek – and where the piano (though only on the half stick) was a bit too dominant – and a few moments in the Sarasate’s first movement where the flute was slightly covered. All in all, though, this duo worked amazingly well together, and one hopes they will continue to do so.

The Chopin arrangement (the “Raindrop” Prelude) followed – and again there was no mention of the arranger, but perhaps in this case it was a merciful omission, as it fell short of the other arrangements. Though Chopin’s lyricism offered a respite from the hyper-virtuosic repertoire preceding it, the arrangement itself was puzzling, with inner voices from the original brought into treble prominence, creating a different effect altogether from the original. It was a bit surprising that a musician from Chopin’s native Poland would endorse these alterations, but presumably the flutist wanted to include something from her homeland, and it seemed to fit the bill. Similarly, there was a doffing of the hat to China, where both musicians teach, in what was listed as Ancient Chinese Folk Song: Singing in a Fishing Boat in the Dusk (again anonymous, though someone had to have arranged it). It closed the first half with a refreshingly different flavor in its pentatonic melodies and shadings.

After intermission came a delightful array of flute-piano duos in somewhat newer styles. First came a piece called Airborne (composed in the early nineties) by Gary Schocker (b. 1959), whom many may know better as a leading flutist than as a composer, but who clearly excels in both roles. Airborne is written in a breezy jazz style that brings to mind the music of Claude Bolling (and at times some hints of Vince Guaraldi), but with his own special voice unifying it all. It was a pure joy in this duo’s rendition, with particularly fine precision from the pianist.

Hypnosis by Ian Clarke (b. 1964) followed, based on improvisations by the composer with his former bandmates Simon Painter and David Hicks (1986-1994). It conveyed a new-age dreaminess that perfectly suits its title and was playing winningly.

Rituals by Slovenian composer Blaž Pucihar (b. 1977) was another joyful discovery for this listener, though Pucihar’s work is clearly not unknown to the flute and wind world. It combines haunting melodies, sensitively set, with wonderfully inventive elaboration and a folk-like quality described as balkanian in the notes (though they reminded this listener of Bartók). It was superbly played by both musicians.

Concluding this enchanting array was Deviations (as mentioned previously, on that Carnival of Venice theme) by Mike Mower (b. 1958). It ran the gamut from waltz, jazz and swing, to salsa and rock styles. A spectacular ending, it was met with a standing ovation and rhythmic clapping, eliciting an encore in the literal sense – a reprise of the final Mower variation. Bravo!

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