Rorianne Schrade | New York Concert Review, Inc.

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

Six Corner Records presents Irving Artists CD in Review

Hiroko Nagahata, piano; Alexa Muhly, cello; Heather Thon Dahl, clarinet

IrvingArtists.com

Recording Engineer: Tyler Rice

Recording Studio: Transient Sound, Chicago

Recorded on: June 17, 18, 2019 (for tracks 1-4, 8-9), September 10-11, 2019 (for tracks 5-7)

A new CD in its pre-release form was sent to me recently for review, and it looks to be one that many will enjoy. Just over forty minutes (on the short side for a CD), it includes, apart from one trio arrangement, all solos and duos by Bach, Dvořák, Rachmaninoff, and Gaspar Cassadó, played by pianist Hiroko Nagahata and cellist Alexa Muhly. Ms. Nagahata and Ms. Muhly comprise the core duo of their Chicago-based ensemble called Irving Artists (alternatively just Irving), which they call a “flexible format” group. Their duo thus becomes a trio with the inclusion of clarinetist Heather Thon Dahl for an arrangement by Keith Murphy (a Chicago-based composer) of the Shaker melody, Simple Gifts, which concludes the CD.

Although no liner notes or tray card information were included in the review copy, some background on the two principal performers was offered. Hiroko Nagahata received a Doctor of Music Degree from Michigan State University, a Master of Music degree from Manhattan School of Music with Dr. Efrem Briskin, and a Bachelor of Music Degree from Kobe College, Japan. She gave her New York solo debut at Weill Hall (at Carnegie Hall) under the auspices of Artists International and has performed in a variety of festivals and series, along with her teaching and work with the Lyric Opera of Chicago and Choirs of America, among other organizations.

Ms. Muhly holds a Bachelor of Music degree from the Cleveland Institute of Music and a Master of Music degree from the Yale School of Music. She has performed widely in the US, Canada, and Europe, especially distinguishing herself in performances of the music of Frederic Rzewski (including with Mr. Rzewski himself) both through the Carnegie Presents series and for Chamber Music America conferences. She has also been principal cellist of the Chicago Chamber Orchestra and Kalamazoo Symphony.

This CD offers a rather unusual assortment of pieces, which the promotional material calls a “carefully curated set.” A listener may be hard-pressed to understand the reasoning behind combining these selections, but they certainly offer a variety of styles and timbres.

Ms. Muhly and Ms. Nagahata combine forces in the CD’s longest work, Bach’s Sonata for Viola da Gamba and Harpsichord in G major, BWV 1027, played here with cello and piano. The work is described in the duo’s promotional material as “rarely performed in modern contexts” – and it is true that, though the piece itself is hardly neglected, the most notable recent recording with piano rather than harpsichord may be that of Angela Hewitt with Daniel Müller-Schott, dating from 2007, and most available recordings involve harpsichord.

The rendering of this piece by the Muhly-Nagahata duo is commendably faithful to the score. The players show good ensemble work overall and seem comfortable with each other in matters of tempi. The second movement stands out for its unhurried tempo, which one could describe as courtly. The two musicians clearly revere this piece and it shows in their intense commitment to each note. Occasionally, the adherence to each eighth note in the piano part seems to go beyond steadiness to verge on a certain sameness that risks becoming tedious. This may be due to an effort to simulate the style of a harpsichord – though one wonders why that would be, after a special reference in the promotional material to the “modern” instrumentation. Though Bach’s greatness always comes through, whether via synthesizer or symphony, a modern pianist can tap his instrument’s dynamic gradations to achieve maximum fluidity of phrase, and not to avail oneself of that strikes this listener as a lost opportunity – but chacun à son goût, as the saying goes.

Meanwhile, on the topic of “commitment to each note” one hears an intensely soloistic sound from the cello that stands apart from the piano a bit too prominently for this listener (though perhaps this is partly due to recording levels). This quality is particularly noticeable in the slower movements, first and third (in this slow-fast-slow-fast format). The listener is at times moved to turn down the volume to avoid hearing stridency in the cello part, but consequently one loses the piano’s interesting lines. These are personal issues, though, in what is overall a praiseworthy addition to this work’s discography.

The musicians then separate for the next two next solo works. First Ms. Muhly plays the opening movement – the Preludio-Fantasia – of the Suite for solo cello by Gaspar Cassadó (1897-1966), Catalan cellist and composer. Ms. Muhly’s playing here is unfettered and self-assured, and she projects the movement’s inherent drama and emotion well. One would like to hear her play the entire piece.

A great sonic leap then takes the listener to a piano solo from Ms. Nagahata, Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in D major, Op. 23, No. 4 (listed as Op. 17 in what is surely just a pre-release typo). It is one of the great gems among the Preludes and is given a devout interpretation here. The restraint that in the Bach verged on regimentation succeeds here in preventing the heart-on-sleeve impatience that can spoil this piece’s beautiful arch. Though there are moments which, for this listener, could still be more fluid (and some melody notes that sound a bit punched out, perhaps due to recording levels), it is overall a beautiful rendition.

Staying with Rachmaninoff, this CD moves on to his much-loved Vocalise, played by both Ms. Muhly and Ms. Nagahata. One hears more of Ms. Muhly’s impassioned phrasing here, and it works well for this piece. She is supported by sensitive playing from Ms. Nagahata. It is one of the highlights of the CD for this listener.

The two then move to somewhat lighter fare with the Dvořák Slavonic Dance in E minor, Op. 46, No. 2 given a charming reading, before their final offering, Simple Gifts, arranged for trio by Keith Murphy, who teaches at Loyola University Chicago. Clarinetist Heather Thon Dahl joins the duo for this piece, adding an appealing tone to its folk-like opening, as well as later modal touches, polytonal effects, and klezmer-like episodes. As one might guess by now, the arrangement is not quite “Simple” despite its spare opening over a cello drone. On that score, kudos go to Ms. Muhly for achieving the twangy sound that evokes a distant didgeridoo or equally rustic instrument. This arrangement covers a lot of ground and offers a fresh addition to the many settings of this beloved Shaker melody.

The CD, entitled Irving, will be available in October through CDBaby, iTunes, Amazon for digital download and physical CD, and streaming on Apple Music.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Jorge Ávila in Review

Jorge Ávila, Violin; Adrienne Kim, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

September 23, 2019

A splendid recital took place this Monday featuring violinist Jorge Ávila with pianist Adrienne Kim under the auspices of Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY). Anyone who has heard Mr. Ávila in his longtime role as concertmaster of the Distinguished Concerts Orchestra knows that he is a pro in that capacity – neither jangling ringtones nor fainting singers can ruffle him. His steady playing in countless orchestras (including pit orchestras) might almost lead one to expect the offhand, workaday sound that besets giggers, but such was definitely not the case here. Mr. Ávila is quite the soloist (with a healthy list of solo credentials to match – see http://jorgeavilamusic.com), and his commitment to this program of violin masterworks – Beethoven, Schumann, Chausson, and more – was clear.

Mr. Ávila and Ms. Kim opened with Beethoven’s Sonata for Piano and Violin No. 5 (F major, Op. 24 posthumously nicknamed the “Spring Sonata”). The balmy first movement opened with a particularly sweet violin tone and sensitive piano collaboration. Though there were moments where this listener found the violin sound perhaps a bit too robust, or the piano not enough (m. 11 and similar spots, where the melody switches instruments), such balance quibbles are somewhat subjective. The mutuality of phrase and rhythm throughout was that of a duo with many years of playing together. High points included the Scherzo’s trio section, timed with split-second togetherness and polish, and the fourth movement, Allegro ma non troppo, a final smile from Beethoven.

The premiere of a new work by Nic Scherzinger (b. 1968) followed. Entitled Imprint, it was dedicated to Mr. Ávila and Ms. Kim, and according to the composer is a short “song without words.” As Mr. Scherzinger explains it, “When I began working on this piece pianist Adrienne Kim suggested the title Imprint since Adrienne and Jorge have been performing together for so long. As chamber musicians, there is a certain “imprint” that performers make on each other that can only happen with time and experience, which I try to capture musically in this piece. When the aria begins, the piano and violin start as two completely different individuals, but as the music progresses, they slowly come together, having made imprints on each other.” The title and program notes led this listener somehow to expect more perceptible interchange of roles or musical material than one was able to grasp in a first hearing, but that said, the piece was beautifully atmospheric, combining long-breathed violin lines with an undulating piano bass, both parts gaining intensity throughout the well-paced journey.

Chausson’s expansive Poème for Violin and Piano, Op. 25 (1896) concluded the first half. This quasi-concerto, inspired by a Turgenev love story and the wizardry of the violinist Eugène Ysaÿe, is lush and extravagant. Violin technique is exploited to the hilt, from dazzling double-stops to stratospheric trills, and Mr. Avila seemed to relish it all. He was persuasively expressive, with a flexibility and variety in his vibrato that helped convey the musical message of each distinct phrase. More challenging, of course, is simulating the multitude of colors and timbres of the work’s orchestral origins, and to that end one again wished that the piano would have come a bit more to the fore. Perhaps some excess caution was attributable to the Steinway’s resonance (with lid open on the full stick), but one wanted still more of the orchestral textures to come through the piano part. All quibbles aside, the audience (a full house) seemed visibly to enjoy the performance and applauded resoundingly.

In Schumann’s Sonata No. 1 in A minor, Op. 105 (another work published as Sonata for Piano and Violin) the equal importance of parts was projected, and it was a joy to hear Ms. Kim’s excellent pianism combining with Mr. Ávila’s extroverted style to bring Schumann’s impassioned score to life. Except for some minor rough spots for Mr. Ávila in the third movement, the performance was outstanding, bristling with Schumann’s agitated energy.

Shorter works of Turina and Kreisler followed, closing the program almost as built-in encores. First the duo played Turina’s evocative La oración del torero Op. 34 (The Bullfighter’s Prayer, arranged by Heifetz), and they did it to a tee. The emotions of a matador before his fight were conveyed so dramatically that one could imagine the jitters, the colors, and the intense heat of the day. The music of Turina is one of the specialties of this duo, and they have recorded some of his work on a disc of Spanish sonatas (Centaur label).

The program closed with the much-loved Kreisler bonbon, Tambourin Chinois, Op. 3, played with perfect élan, spirited bowing, and the occasional delicious slide. There was consummate unity here, as befits such a longstanding musical pair. A standing ovation and much gracious bowing led to an encore of more Turina, now the Vivo movement from his Sonata No. 2. Mr. Ávila, not wanting to exhaust attention spans, assured the audience from the stage, “Don’t worry: it’s very short.” Indeed, two minutes more of Spanish fireworks flew by, and it was a joy. Cheers to this duo – and olé!

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

The Palisades School of Music Presents William Chen in Review

William Chen, piano

Merkin Hall, Kaufman Music Center, New York, NY

September 8, 2019

This past Sunday at Merkin Hall, sixteen-year-old pianist William Chen gave an impressive recital of extremely demanding works by Bach, Beethoven, Schubert, Chopin, Rachmaninoff, and Lowell Liebermann. Though I do not recall ever hearing about this pianist, he is clearly an outstanding young artist to watch.

The program was a large one which many professional pianists would be hard pressed to pull off after many more years of study, degrees, and concertizing than Mr. Chen has had. This is not to suggest that Mr. Chen has any shortage of credentials either, by the way, as his biography already lists numerous concerts throughout the world and a substantial list of awards (from the Bosendorfer and Yamaha USASU Competition, the New York Music Competition for Young Artists, the Kaufman International Piano Youth Competition, AADGT, Young Pianist Competition of NJ, New England Conservatory Preparatory Concerto Competition, and more – as well as being a Young Scholar of the Lang Lang International Music Foundation); one has to remind oneself, though, that he is still just in high school (at the Special Music School in NY), so to have conquered such a program reflects not only exceptional talent but a level of commitment that is extraordinary for one so young.

To open, Mr. Chen played Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in E-flat minor (WTC I) with solemn composure and attention to phrasing and tone. He allowed himself a prolonged wait before starting (as he did before almost each piece), and it was wise, not only to allow various ringtones and other noises to abate, but to draw listeners into the pianist’s musical realm. He let the somber opening sing and showed consummate tonal control and restraint in its pacing. The Fugue unfolded with clarity in each voice whether direct, inverted, or in one of the ten remarkable stretti. Some players exaggerate the subject’s fifths and fourths to the point of resembling foghorns, but Mr. Chen’s approach was both restrained and lyrical, creating the transparency of texture that is ideal for this piece.

Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 10, No. 3 in D Major followed in a performance that was hard to fault, honoring Beethoven with fidelity to the score and a persuasive projection of its drama and architecture. There was no shortage of pianistic prowess in the outer movements, but it was the slow movement, the tragic Largo e mesto, which impressed most. Here Mr. Chen showed that he can sustain the life of long lines even at a glacial tempo, leaving the audience with bated breath until the very last note.

For those craving fireworks, Mr. Chen gave Lowell Liebermann’s four Gargoyles an exciting ride before intermission. Explosive bursts enlivened the opening Presto, and the third (Allegro moderato) was positively shimmering. The powerhouse finale, Presto feroce, let out all the stops. If one wanted a bit more shape to the phrases in the second, Adagio semplice, ma con molto rubato, it may mean that this listener was getting a bit spoiled. All in all, the set made a fantastic finish to the first half, and one could hardly believe that Rachmaninoff’s expansive Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Op. 42, and Schubert’s notoriously difficult “Wanderer” Fantasy, Op. 15 were yet to come!

Before the two remaining large works, the second half opened with a sensitive rendering of Chopin’s Nocturne in D-flat Major (Op. 27, No. 2), which prospered from Mr. Chen’s keen ear for tonal beauty and mature phrasing, including the seamless blending of one tone into the next. It boded well for the Rachmaninoff Corelli Variations, with its many melodic outpourings.

The Rachmaninoff did not disappoint, and in fact one marveled again at this young player’s composure and mastery through some of its virtuosic passages. My handful of reservations included the need for still more softness where Rachmaninoff marked “pianissimo.” It becomes especially important where it marks a thematic return in Variations II and IV (the latter being admittedly difficult in the low register, but still worthy of care). Elsewhere, various infamous spots were handled with great skill (e.g., the left-hand double notes in Variation X), and even the oft-smudged Variation XX stayed reasonably on target. One may have wanted a bit more savoring of the incredible harmonization of Variation XIV, but again (pinching oneself), this pianist is not even out of high school. There will surely room for more spontaneous reverie in the years to come.

Perhaps adrenaline played a role in what seemed an emphasis on momentum, or perhaps at heart was some awareness that the “Wanderer” Fantasy still lay ahead – this program was, after all, very weighty for an average audience. Rachmaninoff himself was not oblivious to such matters of audience engagement, as he once wrote about his own performance of these same variations, “I was guided by the coughing of the audience. Whenever the coughing would increase, I would skip the next variation. Whenever there was no coughing, I would play them in proper order.” In the case of Mr. Chen’s program, if there had been any such concern, it might have been advisable to omit the Chopin Nocturne and let the two larger pieces breathe more fully (and the Chopin could even have been saved for an encore).

In any case, Schubert’s “Wanderer” Fantasy was excellent, and it showed a strong grasp of its technical challenges, voicing demands, and sprawling structure. Once again, there seemed a need for greater softness where marked pianissimo, and perhaps at heart was a fear of not projecting, but the good news is that all projected quite well, so an exploration of the lower dynamic extremes in a few spots should indeed be possible. There certainly was no lack of stamina, and in what was almost an “embarrassment of riches” Mr. Chen responded to his final ovation with a sizzling account of Liszt’s La Campanella. What, no Islamey?

All kidding aside, such a concert represents an enormous achievement, after which it is hoped that this pianist can enjoy a short breather for some of his other professed interests of “reading, movies, board games, clouds, geography and maps, hiking, scuba diving, and private piloting.” While William Chen deserves huge accolades, congratulations are also in order to those who are raising him and to his teachers, Michael Thomopoulos and Wha Kyung Byun. Bravo! With both talent and such a superb foundation, there should be continued greatness ahead.

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

Rosa Antonelli Bridges: From Chopin to Piazzolla CD in Review

Music of Frédéric Chopin, Georges Mathias, Alberto Williams, Alberto Ginastera, and Astor Piazzolla

Rosa Antonelli, piano

Recorded by Max Ross, April 2019 at Systems Two, New York, NY;

Mixed and Mastered by Mike Marciano

Cover Photo: Chris Lee

Albany Records TROY1783 (2019)

Argentinian pianist Rosa Antonelli, whom I had the pleasure of reviewing favorably in 2016 at an Alberto Ginastera Centennial concert, has come out with a fascinating new themed program on a CD entitled “Bridges.” It includes five composers, starting with Chopin and continuing with four subsequent composers (linked directly or indirectly to Chopin) whose music over the course of five generations helped to build an Argentinian style of piano composition – Georges Mathias, Alberto Williams, Alberto Ginastera, and Astor Piazzolla.

Ms. Antonelli describes in her own words the origins of the project, involving its underlying Romanticism: “It all started at my last concert at Carnegie Hall when Susan Bush, president of Albany Records, who was in the audience, came backstage after the recital and said, ‘When you played Chopin as an encore, I heard Piazzolla’s music – it’s all romantic!’ I heard similar comments from others in the audience, and I’ve felt the same for many years.” The “Bridges” CD was thus born – referring not just to diachronic bridges but to bridges between nations and cultures. Ms. Antonelli extends this concept stating that, “when we create art, we all do it together, building bridges across borders.”

Though the bridge theme is appealing, the draw for this listener was the inclusion of two composers, Georges Mathias (1826-1910) and Alberto Williams (1862-1952), both largely unknown or forgotten throughout much of the world (though highly regarded in their lifetimes) and both heard here in five world premieres (bringing the CD premiere tally to seven, counting two Piazzolla works premiered in piano versions). I couldn’t wait to hear these rarities! In many cases, the rediscovery of long-lost music can yield disappointment (as some have said, many things are forgotten for a reason); in this case, though, while I can’t profess undying love of Georges Mathias (yet), the music of Alberto Williams here has definitely opened doors of discovery, and I am holding out hope for further appreciation – more on that later.

As far as Ginastera (1916-1983) and Piazzolla (1921-1992) go, Ms. Antonelli has for many years performed music of these celebrated composers, and she does so with flair and sensitivity. Highlights of the CD for this reviewer included Ms. Antonelli’s Danza del Trigo (“Dance of Wheat”) from Ginastera’s Estancias, played with such haunting beauty that it seems reason enough on its own to purchase the CD. Interestingly, as I looked over my review of Ms. Antonelli’s 2016 Ginastera concert (Rosa Antonelli in Review), I saw that her performance of the Danza del Trigo affected me similarly then then as well.

To return to the CD as a whole, it is beautifully planned to form over 75 minutes of lyrical and atmospheric piano selections that are simpatico despite geographically diverse histories. It opens with a thoughtfully conceived group of Chopin selections, from the opening C-sharp minor Nocturne (posthumous) to the same composer’s F-sharp Nocturne Op. 48, No. 2, and on to the Waltz in G-flat (Op. 70, No. 1) in the enharmonic major. The three make quite a compatible grouping mood-wise and key-wise, and one appreciates the artfully planned sequence as well as the overall emphasis on lyricism.

These Chopin works have a distinguished performance history, so inevitably there are some quibbles, including excessive liberties with the score. Those who are not professional musicians may want to skip the rest of this paragraph, but for a musician familiar with the opening Nocturne there was too much stretching and shortening of note values beyond what might be considered justifiable (yes, there is rubato in Chopin, but the German Augmented sixths in the second and fourth measures of the opening Nocturne are nearly double in value here). In general, Ms. Antonelli is quite a persuasive interpreter, but such discrepancies with Chopin’s manuscript and respected editions are distracting, including the substitution of F-sharps in the left hand at measure 8 where the manuscript has D-sharps, some added and omitted notes, and significant changes of melody and harmony at measure 26 (though the latter change does appear in an Alfred Cortot edition). Added bass octaves in measure 59 and in the very last measure seem to “gild the lily” as well.

All quibbles aside, Ms. Antonelli establishes with flair the Chopin premise for the disc, and if the Waltz in G-flat has a measured feel that keeps it from taking its usual flight, it still serves as a good aural backdrop for the pieces of Georges Mathias that follow.

The music of Mathias (who studied with Chopin and later taught at the Paris Conservatoire) is represented here by his Romance sans Paroles, Op. 18, No. 4 and his Caprice-Valse, Op. 38, No. 1. The Romance (from the 1850’s) is full of the sentimental sighing motives and plaintive chromaticism that characterize much salon music of the time. Ms. Antonelli proves herself to be an ardent advocate for it, and one is grateful for her work in unearthing it, even if its chief interest may ultimately lie in its being the work of one of Chopin’s pupils. The rather coquettish Caprice-Valse (from c. 1865) is another kind of Victorian bonbon one rarely hears today. After a teasing introduction featuring more of the descending minor seconds that pervade the Romance (interesting segue!), the main allegretto begins with some of the feathery pianism that must have tickled salon-goers in the day. Some of it sounds a bit staid to modern ears, and this reviewer did wonder whether a lighter fleeter approach might not enliven it – but then again critiques must be balanced with gratitude for the unearthing. One’s curiosity was certainly piqued to explore this composer further.

In that spirit of exploration, a score for the Caprice-Valse was found online (Heugel edition), and one did notice that Ms. Antonelli has omitted quite a lot of notated ornaments in it, including the first page’s chain of grace notes, which would have probably lent the music a more playful character. One assumes that there was some compelling reason for such edits, as, despite stated themes relating to bridges and borders, there are some individual boundaries to a composer’s own creative realm, established largely through such notation! Mr. Mathias was certainly no stranger to matters of notation, as he was also a professor who taught piano to the next featured composer of the CD, Alberto Williams.

Buenos Aires-born Alberto Williams is described in the liner notes (credited to J. Michael Allsen) as “a leading figure in Argentina for over 50 years,” and he had become a pupil of Georges Mathias at age 20 (1882) on scholarship at the Paris Conservatoire before returning to his native Argentina in 1889. To those who read great importance into pedagogic lineage, Alberto Williams could be considered a “grand-pupil” of Chopin, or as Mr. Allsen puts it, “the keystone of this arch” from Chopin to later music of Argentina. Representing Alberto Williams here are three works, starting with the somber Valse, Op. 29, No. 3, chosen from a set of pieces for young players (1891). The Valse reflects perhaps the academic strictures of Williams’ composition teacher, César Franck, more than any pianistic gifts from Chopin’s legacy (aside from one lyrically rhapsodic episode), but considerably more substantial is Williams’ Novelette, Op. 8 (from 1886), not specified for students and more ambitious pianistically. It may owe its inspiration (and name) to Schumann, but it remains a youthful effort.

The greatest individuality by far emerges from Williams in his Huella, Op. 46, No. 1, dating from 1904, around fifteen years after the composer’s return to Argentina. Here, at last, is a distinct voice. There are, as the liner notes describe, “two alternating sections of music, one pounding out the characteristic 6/8 rhythm of the folk huella and a second featuring a more gentle alternation of duple and triple meter.” Here are the beginnings of an Argentinian piano style that surely helped to usher in Ginastera and Piazzola. It is fresh, colorful and original, and it whetted one’s appetite for more. Perhaps there will be a “Bridges II” CD with more of this composer’s later music. Beyond this, perhaps Ms. Antonelli will help to produce an international edition, as it is currently difficult, if not impossible, to obtain much of Alberto Williams’ music in the US.

Though Alberto Ginastera needs little introduction, it was particularly eye-opening to rehear some of his music after some music of Alberto Williams, his teacher during conservatory years in Buenos Aires (before Copland in the US). There is definitely a bridge here which Ms. Antonelli helped to make audible and which warrants deeper study. In addition to the stunning Danza del Trigo there is magic in the twilight romance of Idilio crepuscular and the driving dance Pequeña Danza with the spirit of the gaucho, here a bit more restrained than one is accustomed to hearing.

Six of Ginastera’s Twelve American Preludes follow, including Sadness, Vidala, Homenaje a Robert Garcia Morillo (composer and critic), Pastorale, Homenaje a Juan José Castro (conductor and composer), and Creole Dance. Highlights included the hypnotic Pastorale and the “tempo di tango” of the subsequent Castro tribute. The final rustic dance finds Ms. Antonelli unleashing more energy than in her other selections, before the Ginastera group closes with the despairing Milonga, an effective transition to the more popular genres of Astor Piazzolla, who is the next and final of the five composers.

There seems little left to explore in the increasingly popular work of Piazzolla, but his Balada para un Loco (“Ballad for a Fool” – slow tango) is captivating in Ms. Antonelli’s hands, as is the very famous Oblivion which follows. Premieres of two “new” (for piano) pieces close the CD, including La Partida (“The Parting” – a zamba) and a piece in candombe form entitled Yo soy el Negro (“I am the Black Man”). These latter two are atmospheric pieces, but with a great degree of repeating rhythms and motives which become taxing to one accustomed to truly focused listening. Perhaps the latter is hard to sustain without lyrics, but for those who seek simply some gently ambient Argentine music, it should fit the bill.

All in all, there is much to enjoy here. The CD is available at Amazon.com, AlbanyRecords.com, ArkivMusic.com, and iTunes.

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

La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club Presents Bach and Bleach in Review

Esther Apituley, Artistic Director/violist; Erwin Maas, Director (NYC Version); Text by Ko van den Bosch; Tamara Keasberry, Creative Producer; Bob Zimmerman, arranger;

Featuring Jenny Sterlin, actress; Emily Uematsu and Carolin Pook, violins;

Chanel Karimkhani, cellist; James Robbins, double bassist;

Carlos Horns, pianist; Grégoire Maret, mouth-harmonica;

Ethan Cohen, percussion;

Members of the NY Choral Society, Michael Ciavaglia, conductor

La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club, New York, NY

June 8, 2019

An extraordinarily beautiful production billed as a “Theatre Concert” took place at La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club last week (June 5-9), and it turned out to be much more than the promised “play with music”; It was more accurately a play about music and its restorative and unifying power – and in a broader sense a play about life in general.

From the very first scene, in which a character called Cleaning Lady finds herself vacuuming the stage, we are brought into a reality far removed from any glitz or glamor, the reality of bleach, mops, vacuum cleaners and anonymity. As this character herself remarks, “there has never been a review that says ‘very good cleaning lady’” – though her faceless state is corrected by the end, at which point (avoiding a spoiler) one might say that her face is celebrated everywhere.

Cleaning Lady is heartbreakingly lovable as played by actress Jenny Sterlin, and as we hear a bit of her story as a Bosnian refugee and learn her name, Maria, we gather that she has turned her years of suffering and loss into wisdom but has never quite experienced the music coming from the very stages she cleans. That all changes through the course of this play, and thankfully there is humor enough to render the pain endurable. As a small ensemble of single-minded musicians arrive for their concert, led by their violist, the dynamic Esther Apituley, an initial clash occurs, followed by a journey across barriers of all sorts as the characters realize the connections among themselves and their ability to “meet in music.” This whole scenario requires some “suspension of disbelief” as a drama, but the truth behind the drama requires none; in fact, it should resonate for anyone working in the arts or, from the other side of things, striving to experience them.

Bach and Bleach

The “concert” itself – an assortment of over a dozen wide-ranging classical and jazz performances interspersed with dialogue – included music of Purcell, Handel, Bach, and others, featuring most prominently Bach’s Chaconne from the Violin Partita in D Minor, here played movingly and with profound involvement on viola by Ms. Apituley. If there is any thought that a performer involved in such experimental theater might be less capable as a solo musician than the typical concert artist, let that prejudice be banished. Ms. Apituley was musically top-notch, but beyond that she did what more musicians ought to do, which is to commit to every single moment with intensity. To do that – plus all the other classical and jazz ensemble work and drama – was a tour de force.

Also heard were the Caprice No. 24 of Paganini (though listed as his Etude No. 4) played commandingly by Emily Uematsu, the Intermezzo (fourth movement) of Shostakovich’s Piano Quintet in G minor, the Waltz for String Quartet of Benjamin Britten (from Three Divertimenti), and Fauré’s tender Berceuse, Op. 16. More info may be found at the production’s website: http://lamama.org/bach_and_bleach/, but kudos must go to all of the other commendable musicians, violinist Carolin Pook, cellist Chanel Karimkhani, double bassist James Robbins, pianist Carlos Horns, percussionist Ethan Cohen, and Grégoire Maret, who improvised impressively on mouth-harmonica.

Additional music included Cleaning Lady by Arnold Marinissen and some wonderfully played jazz arrangements of Bob Zimmerman, ingeniously incorporating motifs from the Bach Chaconne and the Paganini 24^th Caprice. In addition, the song Bohémienne (from Notre Dame de Paris, by Cocciante and Plamondon) was sung by the evening’s cellist, Chanel Karimkhani, conveying soulfully again the very human state of wandering and uncertainty.

Bach and Bleach

After the Shostakovich movement was played, Ms. Apituley briefly opened the discussion to the audience. To the question, “Did you see anything as you listened?” the responses ran the gamut – from colors to landscapes to family. From Maria, though, unaccustomed to concert music and paralyzed by the question, there was great fear of having “the wrong answer” – and this moment was exactly why this play could be so valuable to those inexperienced with concert music. The reassuring of Maria and what followed was a dispelling of preconceptions – and exactly what is needed by the world of live music today.

Such symbolic or didactic missions can tend to lend a two-dimensional quality to a theater piece – and indeed there were initial moments of stick-figure stiltedness in the first clashes of characters – but, as it soon was clear, that stiltedness provided a dramatic contrast with the naturalness developed later in response to the music and to each other. Thanks to the irresistible humor and humanity of Jenny Sterlin and some compelling musical advocacy by the musicians, particularly Ms. Apituley, the drama and music were powerfully alive and real.

There were layers of metaphor suggested in this play, including the convergence of notes in music relating to the convergence of individuals through shared experience – even a running theme about particles and waves, introduced through Maria’s recollections of long-ago dreams to become a physicist – and yet, all unfolded with naturalness and ease.

If one had one reservation about the evening, it was in regard to the program notes. When drawing the untutored listeners into classical music, it can be helpful to give complete program details, so that audience members can follow up on works they like. Many such traditions of classical concerts actually serve a purpose. As it was, we were told that there were no printed programs, but in an effort to “go green” the program info would be digitized, i.e. accessible on cellphones. Upon entering the hall then we were then told to turn off all cellphones.

The concept of Bach and Bleach sprang from text by Dutch author Ko van den Bosch. Direction for the NYC production was by Erwin Maas with Tamara Keasberry as Creative Producer. Esther Apituley is listed as Artistic Director, but clearly she is even more than that, on a mission to bring what she loves to the world.

Though I was surprised at first to see one young tween-ish boy entering the theater (with some fairly “adult” flyers within eyeshot), I wished by the end that every child in the world could see this play as part of their introduction to concert music. Bach and Bleach has been played over 50 times in Europe and is supported as part of the Dutch Culture USA program by the Consulate General of the Netherlands in New York (plus other donors), so perhaps there are still more benefactors out there to ensure that it gains ever greater audiences and numbers of performances.

Oh, and one more thing: very good cleaning lady.

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

American Protégé Summer Gala Concert in Review

Winners of the American Protégé Summer Gala Concert Competition

Steven Ionov, Master of Ceremonies

Isaac Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

June 8, 2019

The American Protégé Music Competitions are in their twelfth year presenting aspiring musicians in prominent venues in New York, and, based on their recent Summer Gala Concerts, they appear to be attracting many talented young performers. This Saturday they actually presented two Carnegie concerts, one at noon and one in the evening, the earlier one covered by this reviewer. To say that such ventures have become a big business is an understatement, and though artistic merit is always debatable, it is certainly an achievement simply to undertake two such events in one day at one of the most prestigious venues in the world. For many of those presented, it was undoubtedly a great milestone, complete with bragging rights galore.

Rather than opting for, say, the smaller Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall (which might have accommodated their crowd), American Protégé opted for the larger hall, Isaac Stern Auditorium, and had no fewer than forty young performers taking turns onstage. A similar number appeared at the evening concert. The performers came from throughout the US, along with Canada, Thailand, Singapore, and other countries. They ranged from very young elementary schoolers through high schoolers, with styles ranging from classical to pop. There were predominantly classical performances from the first eighteen (mostly pianists, playing music from Bach and Beethoven to the twentieth century, and a few on violin, flute, and voice), while the latter twenty-two winners were singers performing a mix of mostly Broadway (including Stephen Schwartz, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Claude-Michel Schönberg) and “popular” styles (including Adele, Ariana Grande, Taylor Swift, Alicia Keys, David Guetta, and Billie Eilish). It was an eclectic concert to say the least.

“Instant stardom” is a popular notion these days, advanced by such television shows as America’s Got Talent, American Idol, and various similar programs, and the “instant” aspect was in evidence through much of the popular segments, with selfie-ready teen and tween singers in high gloss, “channeling” the delivery of famous singers, helped by amplification and Karaoke-style pre-recorded tracks. All that was missing was Auto-Tune.

We heard a shockingly precocious performance of Kelly Clarkson’s Dark Side from a fresh-faced ten-year old, and a similarly gritty rendition of Adele’s Rolling in the Deep from another cherubic youngster. One must concede that emotional depth can span all age groups, and mature experiences are thrust on the youngest children quite early these days, but one did wonder – what is the huge hurry? Not to be misunderstood, as there were some compelling performances (in and amongst some cringe-worthy straining and iffy intonation), but wouldn’t it be better for these youngsters to find their own styles and identities in music over time rather than rushing into quasi-impersonation? One also worries in many cases for these fragile young vocal chords, straining to do what has hurt the voices of even their established idols. One singer, Isabelle Wong from Canada, stood out for a moving song that she composed as well as sang, All I Can Do, which showed the beginnings of an individual style. Also, outstanding for naturalness of expression and musicality were Christiana Schiller, Kayla Silverman, Yana Ebbing, and Nijjaree Dusitsoonthornkul. Others were quite promising and with time may know artistic and/or commercial success.

Classical instrumentalists – and pianists in particular – are on the opposite end of the spectrum from pop singers, development-wise, and they are generally not subject to (or even capable of) quite such accelerated ripening, though the technical requirements for a serious career in classical music do tend to require the diligent practice of an instrument while young. The emphasis with classical pianists is also not quite as much on looks and presentation (as there is only so much one can do to glamorize a seated profile). Though the parade of adorable young pianists on Saturday was a visual bouquet, one asks oneself which ones seem best suited to reach the highest pianistic and artistic standards. Beyond the basic physical training of muscles and reflexes, there are elements of melodic phrasing, harmony, rhythm, style, awareness of historical context, and human experience that all contribute to the interpretive art. These aspects require many years of playing and living.

Many “stage parents” understandably want to see their investment of time, energy and funds bear fruit immediately – hence the plethora of prodigies pushed towards the public today – but enormous patience and discipline are involved in the mastery of music, if it is to be an art rather than a mere stunt (or worse, a cause for years of therapy later on). While all of the young pianists in the American Protégé noon concert were indeed admirably prepared, they would in most cases be hard to place above those heard quite often in any number of local competitions (New York City’s special meaning of “local” notwithstanding); nevertheless, in the spirit of Domenico Scarlatti’s writing, “to be more human than critical,” a few performances shall be mentioned here.

Among the youngest players – perhaps the youngest- was Koutaro Ohnishi. Born in 2011 in Palo Alto, CA, he is still, at the current moment (at the time of writing – since the chronology matters in the prodigy world) just age seven. One is told by the program notes’ biography that he is the first-prize winner of the “Grand Prize Virtuoso” in Salzburg, Austria in 2018, and that contest’s website confirms his inclusion that year (among a large array of winners ranging from ages 4 to 51: 2018 “Salzburg” Grand Prize Virtuoso selected winners). Since young Mr. Ohnishi was age six in 2018, it is additionally remarkable that (as we are told) he had only just started piano at age six as well, when a friend of his father’s gave his family an upright piano… so he certainly has made remarkably rapid progress to have advanced from starting the basics to performing in a contest before a year was up! Many would say that all of this happened too fast for true, meaningful growth, but then again, he did play with all the right notes and a certain stately calm, so time will tell.

Mr. Ohnishi performed the Aria from Bach’s monumental Goldberg Variations. It was an unusual choice, with all the Kleine Praeludien, dances from Suites and Partitas, and Inventions available (and age-appropriate), and to extract a portion of such an iconic work might be called cheeky, but perhaps this choice was an intentional reference to the bigger possibilities to come. After all, if a youngster can play the Aria from the Goldberg Variations at Carnegie Hall at age seven, what might he do in ten years? As it stands now, he shows remarkable poise for one so young and, aside from some metric glitches caused by some ornaments that were cumbersome to him (especially in the left hand), he fared admirably. This reviewer loves freedom in ornamentation, but not when verging on extra beats.

Young Mr. Ohnishi studies with Matt Wang at the Keys school in San Jose, California – and incidentally Mr. Wang was listed as teacher of several other performers, including Akira Ohyabu and Rachel Tat, both excellent. Ms. Ohyabu played Chopin’s posthumous Waltz in E minor with extraordinary ease for one so young – excellent repeated notes and good spirit – and Rachel Tat enjoyed a remarkably facile ride through Chopin’s Étude Op. 25, No. 2 in F minor.

Other notable performances included an instinctively spirited account of the last movement of Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 13 (the “Pathétique”) by Nico Brett. It was excellent and will be even better if he can avoid harshness in the louder passages. We also heard a superb account of Poulenc’s sophisticated Toccata from Trois Pièces from Jaden Tan and a colorful realization of Wencheng Lu’s Autumn Moon on a Calm Lake from Claire Wang. An unusually mature grasp of demanding contemporary technique was shown in Shchedrin’s Basso Ostinato by Albert Su, already playing it at a professional level.

Many other performers that we heard will surely be up and coming – that is, assuming they are allowed to assimilate the complexities of musical art within an unforced timeframe – but hopefully all enjoyed the special chance to perform in this legendary hall. Congratulations are due to all winners, and also to the day’s collaborative pianists, Yoni Levyatov, Cherie Roe, Kyoung Im Kim, Martina Oslejskova, and Simona Snitskovskaya. Recorded tracks will never replace “the real thing” with quite the same spirit.

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