“The Most Happy Fella” by Frank Loesser in Review

“The Most Happy Fella” by Frank Loesser
Dicapo Opera Theatre, New York, NY
March 17, 2012
Leah Lane, Michael Corvino and cast; Photo Credit Rob Rich

Leah Lane, Michael Corvino and cast; Photo Credit Rob Rich

I first saw Frank Loesser’s “The Most Happy Fella” in 1957, during its first Broadway run. I bought the score as soon as it was published and the original cast album (the first recording of an entire show, including spoken dialogue) as soon as the 33rpm records came out. These were later replaced by CD’s. In 2006 I attended the New York City Opera’s disastrous production starring a woefully miscast, musically inept Paul Sorvino as the baritone lead. There were other revivals in between. Yes, I’ve had a fifty-five year love affair with this great American musical, but it was a love affair scarred by inept revivals. Would I ever experience a performance which came even close to my memories of the original? This thought went through my mind as I sat in the fifth row of the Dicapo Opera Theatre’s lovely 204 seat space in the basement of St. Jean Baptiste Church on E 76th Street. As the houselights dimmed I was in a state of wary anticipation.

And a few hours later, I was in a state of bliss. I had just attended a performance for which I am still finding it hard to find suitable words – superb, magnificent, sublime all come to mind.  Forget about 1957 – this was the best performance I’ve heard of this great American masterpiece; the perfect amalgam of wonderful unamplified singing (both operatic and pop,) moving acting, clear and simple staging, costumes which conjured up a time and a place, and beautiful orchestral playing.

“The Most Happy Fella” stands or falls on the performance of the “fella,” Tony Esposito, a lonely Italian immigrant who owns a winery in the Napa Valley. He is most often played by a large man who often exaggerates the characters awkwardness and lack of education. Baritone Michael Corvino is a slight, dignified man and his moving portrayal brought out the character’s fragility and, more than any Tony I’ve seen, his deep love for Rosabella, the mail-order bride who has come to his winery. He is a powerful and compelling baritone. But one never felt that he was an “opera singer” crossing over into musical comedy, as he brought the same natural delivery to his “arias” as he did to simple songs like “Happy to make your Acquaintance.” And there was a wonderful chemistry between Mr. Corvino’s Tony and soprano Molly Mustonen’s Rosabella. Possessing a beautiful soprano voice, Ms. Mustonen is a fine singing actress. Her deepening love for Tony was palpable and brought tears to my eyes.

But if much of the music sung by Tony and Rosabella tended towards the operatic, that of the two other leads, Lauren Hoffmeier and Brance Cornelius, was pure musical comedy. Ms. Hoffmeier’s singing of the show’s first number, “Ooo! My Feet,” was deliciously brassy, and her duet with Mr. Cornelius, “Big D,” brought down the house. The fine dancing of both these performers helped choreographer Francine D. Harman solve the problem of how an opera company treats the show’s two big dance numbers. The members of Dicapo’s chorus sang beautifully all evening, but couldn’t be expected to perform the complex choreography of big production numbers. Ms. Harman’s solution was perfect. Omit the dance following the chorus “Sposalizio” and leave most of the dancing in “Big D” to Ms. Hoffmeier and Mr. Cornelius. By the way, the chorus’s performance of “Song of a Summer Night” was memorable.

The supporting cast did much more than just support. One could not ask for better portrayals than Peter Kendall Clark’s Jo, Bess Morrison’s Marie, Michael Hopewell’s Doc and David Keller-Flight’s Postman. Three show stoppers were “Standing on the Corner,” performed by Brian Ribeiro, Nicholas Connolly, Jonathan Harris and the afore mentioned Brance Cornelius; “Abbondanza,” and “Benvenuta,” brilliantly sung by Paolo Buffani, Michael Imbimbo and Vincent Ricciardi.

The fine orchestra was under the masterful direction of conductor Pacien Mazzagatti. The orchestra was seated upstage, behind the performers, bringing the singers very close to the audience. But this setup did nothing to hinder the coordination between voices and instruments. The ensemble was perfect. The simple but effective set by John Farrell was beautifully lit by Susan Roth (In addition to what happened on stage, I loved the mysterious blue-lit orchestra behind the performers.) The fine costumes were designed by Julie Wyma.

Kudos to Dicapo Opera Theatre’s General Director, Michael Capasso. He has a smash hit show on his hands. My brother, who now lives in Paris, was with me at that 1957 performance of “The Most Happy Fella,” If Dicapo performs it again, he will fly back to New York to see it. I’ll be there too.

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American Symphony Orchestra in Review

American Symphony Orchestra in Review
Leon Botstein, Conductor
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
October 21, 2011
American Symphony Orchestra

American Symphony Orchestra; Photo Credit: Jito Lee

  

One thing you can’t fault the American Symphony Orchestra for is lack of ambitious programming. The two hour long concert that they presented included virtuosic orchestrations of Bach chorales; preludes and fugues by Max Reger, Arnold Schoenberg and Wolfgang Gräser; as well as three fiendishly difficult fugues by Lyonel Feininger, and Schoenberg’s “Variations for Orchestra”, Op. 31.

However, once the concert began, it became clear that the ASO had bit off slightly more than they could chew. In much of the Bach, including O Mensch, Bewein’ dein’ Sünde gross, section entrances were timid and the beginnings and endings of phrases were scraggly and uncoordinated. Leon Botstein’s conducting did little to alleviate the ensemble’s problems; alternately vague and abrupt, his gestures often appeared ill-suited to the sweeping, legato character of the Bach. Intonation problems in the bass and viola sections abounded. There also appeared to be a discrepancy among the string players about the use of vibrato throughout the works by Bach, with some players employing lush, romantic vibrato and other players using none at all. In Bach’s Prelude and Fugue BWV 552, “St. Anne,” the principal cellist played out of tune and appeared to lose his place within the solo.  

The concertmaster’s solos, in contrast, were effortlessly brilliant. Her understated style of leadership also deserves recognition. Unlike many concertmasters that overplay and spoil the homogeneity of the orchestral texture in their zeal to lead, she gave an excellent, assertive example for her section to follow while always respecting the character of the music.

Quite strangely, when the ASO played Feininger’s Three Fugues, arguably more demanding both technically and interpretively than any of the Bach, the ensemble suddenly sparkled. Their sound came alive, their intonation improved remarkably and Botstein’s conducting seemed perfectly attuned to the repertoire and the needs of his ensemble. Feininger’s musical architecture was intelligently presented, with sensitive dynamic interplay that allowed each line to be heard clearly. Fugue III- Gigue opened beautifully with a gossamer pizzicato motif and ethereal quality which recalled the Scherzo from Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Schoenberg’s Variations for Orchestra, Op. 31, was similarly spellbinding and well performed. Although it was written during the height of his 12-tone period, the piece is still somewhat lyrical. The program, which seemed designed for the conservatory student with a penchant for atonal or complex music, was daring in its ambitiousness and cleverly-found continuity by utilizing many fugues or fugue-like pieces such as the Variations, which even incorporates the Bach motif (a succession of notes that quotes his name). However, the evening was far too long and dense for most audience members to digest. By the middle of the second half, many eyes appeared glazed-over. “No more Schoenberg, please!”, a lady muttered as she left. Perhaps the American Symphony Orchestra should take pity on their audiences (and musicians!) and intersperse their next concert with some lighter fare.

 –Holly Nelson for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

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Edith Eisler in Memoriam

Edith Eisler in Memoriam
August 4, 2011

 
 
 

 The violinist Edith Eisler, who was a beloved teacher and coach for over 50 years, and a frequent contributor to New York Concert Review, died in her Manhattan home on July 18, at the age of 86.  Her Upper West Side apartment was a haven for violinists and chamber music players of all ages, beneficiaries of her lifelong immersion in music, and her disciplined yet humane approach to teaching.  In addition to her primary vocation,  she was a gifted writer and a highly valued reviewer on the staffs of several music publications.

I met Edith for the first time in 1995, after she was recommended to me by a mutual friend who was a colleague of hers at the Turtle Bay School.  She agreed to take me on as a violin student on the condition that I  also  make myself available as a pianist for her chamber music studio.  For the next sixteen years, I met with her weekly in my struggle to master the violin, and stayed on after my lesson for countless ad hoc sessions with flutists, cellists and violinists who, like me, were both Edith’s friends and devoted students.  My aptitude on the violin progressed at a glacial pace over those many years, due mostly to my spotty practice regime.  I did learn to play the violin though, and more importantly, I absorbed, through Edith, a tradition of playing music, a way of hearing and feeling music that has made me a better musician.

Edith Eisler

Her teaching was rigorous, methodical, and individualized.  The standard exercise books and student pieces were supplemented with hundreds of  study sheets, written in her own hand, and recycled over decades to adapt to each new technical challenge.  She would absolutely forbid her students to fake anything or to move on to a new piece until they had completely mastered the previous one.  Likewise, her chamber music coaching could turn into month long odysseys into the heart of a Beethoven sonata or a Schubert fantasy.  These composers – Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms – were as close to her as her own family, and their works were sewn into the fabric of her heart and soul.

Music was Edith Eisler’s religion.  Indeed, she observed no holidays, religious or otherwise, offering lessons on Christmas Day or Yom Kippur, oblivious to convention.  She was extremely thin, with the appetite of a sparrow.  In all the years I knew her, the only thing I ever saw her consume was coffee, usually cold.  She often admonished me for patronizing Starbucks, when she had “perfectly good” coffee in the refrigerator.  When Edith wasn’t teaching or coaching, she was listening to music from her vast CD library, on the radio or television, or more likely, at one of New York’s numerous concert halls.  After her long career as a reviewer (she hated the word critic and most practitioners of that profession), she maintained free access to Carnegie Hall and most other venues simply because she was beloved by the people who worked there.  Edith’s concert companion for most of her life was her mother Sophie, and after she died at the age of 101, I became one of many friends to whom she would offer tickets, in exchange for help getting a taxi after the show.

Throughout her life, Edith remained nostalgic about her childhood in Vienna, and spoke with regret about having to flee her country in order to find a better existence here.  Like many displaced people, she worked very hard to make her new home a safe and nurturing place.  I, and many others, mourn Edith’s passing not only because we loved her as a friend and mentor, but because she represented a tradition which is slowly vanishing in this technological age.  That tradition rests on the creation of live music in one’s own home, the enjoyment of sharing this with others, and the gift of knowledge passed on through generations of musicians.

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The XIV International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition, Moscow June 14 – June 30, 2011

The XIV International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition, Moscow June 14 – June 30, 2011

Finding myself with some time and a decent internet connection on my hands while packing up a house in the Caribbean for the approaching hurricane season, I discovered to my delight that the Tchaikovsky Competition was being webcast this year.  It’s of such monumental proportions now, with the piano, violin, cello and voice events being run simultaneously from Moscow and St. Petersburg, and with more than 100 participants, that it’s impossible to hear it all. So, being a pianist myself, I chose to listen to as much of the piano competition as I could.

First prize winner pianist Daniil Trifonov

First prize winner pianist Daniil Trifonov

Delight often turned to frustration with the Tchaikovsky’s website. It is a bit of a hash – a mass of counterintuitive menus – for instance, you cannot go directly from the performers listing to his or her performances.  And the page giving the results of each round has no links to the players at all, so you are constantly trying to remember which menu has the navigation you want.  They’ve also been rather slack about posting videos in the Archives section which, so far anyway, still does not contain all the finalists’ concerto performances.

Second Prize Winner Pianist Yeol Eum Son

Second Prize Winner Pianist Yeol Eum Son

The streaming video is of variable but generally poor quality, often grainy and pixilated and the audio (which, incidentally, is excellent) is almost always about a second ahead of the video.  Regrettably, the camera work is more suited to a hip-hop music video, particularly in the concerto rounds, with fast cuts (often 3 seconds or less) from a crotch shot of the tympani player to a close up of the concertmaster’s ear to the annoying up-the-right-nostril camera angle which has been used far too often with the soloists.  Whoever is cueing the cameras also seems to be fairly ignorant of the content of the repertoire, and either can’t read music or is just winging it because at nearly every interesting spot in the performances I’ve seen so far, the camera is anywhere but on the players’ hands.  Far below standard for an event of this importance and prestige – still, it’s wonderful to be able to view the competition in its entirety because these pianists really are the creme de la creme.  Commenting on it all for the webcast were Irina Tushintseva in Russian and John Rubinstein, the son of legendary pianist Arthur Rubinstein, in English.  A tough job considering they had to ad lib through sometimes extended delays, but they chatted away gracefully, if not always informatively.

Third Prize Winner Pianist Seong-Jin Cho

Third Prize Winner Pianist Seong-Jin Cho

As I began to watch the opening round concerts – there were 29, and I have to admit I did not see them all – I was really astonished by the depth of talent at this event.  For the statistically minded, only 8 of the 29 competitors were women, including the youngest, 16 year old  Ekaterina Rybova.  This surprised me since in most other competitions the sexes are about equally divided, with numbers often tilting slightly to the female side.  Also interesting is that Steinway seems to be maintaining its dominance on the concert platform, chosen as it was by 19 of the 29 pianists.  The remaining performers went about half for Yamaha and the rest to Fazioli and Shigeru Kawai.  There was also a wide breadth of personalities apparent in these competitors – some comfortable and engaging on stage, some visibly nervous, or unhappy, or fretful.  Some smiling, some not, some handsomely dressed, some verging on shabbiness.  One excellent but possibly hard pressed player appeared to have borrowed his concert clothes from someone several sizes larger, a poignant sight.  One of the all male, mostly jacket and tie wearing jury members persisted in showing up dressed as if he’d been transported there direct from an aisle at K-Mart, not poignant at all, just objectionable.  In any case, in order to keep this account of the competition to a manageable length, let’s talk about the 12 pianists who made it through to Round II:

Sara Daneshpour
, the only American in the competition and one of only two women to emerge from the First Round, is an elegant player, prone to a sweetness of gesture that was an asset in Haydn’s F Major Sonata and Schumann’s Abegg Variations but didn’t work as well in other repertoire – notably the darkly brooding Corelli Variations of Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev’s demonic Toccata, Op. 11.  In the Mozart Concerto round, her D minor, K. 466 was lithe and dramatic but went momentarily off the rails in the second movement – only an instant really, but probably enough to get her eliminated.

At 30, Eduard Kunz has been around the competition circuit for a number of years.  He’s a tremendously communicative and intelligent musician, and one of the most interesting and satisfying pianists to be heard at this Tchaikovsky Competition.  At crucial moments though, he’s prone to crack a note or have a slip of the finger and it damages his playing just enough to knock him out of contention.  It’s a problem because absolute technical perfection has become the norm, often superseding excellent musicianship  – a real case of the perfect becoming the enemy of the good.  Among his performances, a startlingly colorful and imaginative Gaspard de la Nuit was a particular gem.

Twenty year old Swiss pianist François-Xavier Poizat is another deeply fascinating musician.  I had hopes he might make the finals as well – he gave a Mozart Sonata in C Major (K. 330) of pure crystalline beauty, and an interesting and finely detailed performance of the rarely played Prokofiev Fourth Sonata.  There was also a stunningly beautiful Tombeau de Couperin by Ravel, ending with a luminous and finally blazing account of its perilous Toccata.

Born near Vladivostok in the Russian Far East, 22 year old Alexander Sinchuk is a sort of Byronic ideal of a concert pianist.  Handsome, elegantly dressed, ramrod straight at the instrument and with his David face tilted heavenward, it became obvious he has an affinity for the darkly romantic corners of the repertoire.  He gave forceful accounts of the Schubert A minor Sonata Op. 143, the Franck Prelude Chorale and Fugue and Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Sonata.  At the end of the first day, he hurled himself at the Prokofiev Seventh Sonata “Stalingrad” as if he could see the carnage and smoking ruins in his mind’s eye.  He was absolutely excellent, and on another day he might have finished in the top five.  That he didn’t this time is just additional proof of the stratospheric standards on display here.

Twenty-four year old St. Petersburg native Alexander Lubyantsev had some serious partisans at the event, to the point that when he was eliminated there was some vocal dissatisfaction with the judges’ decision.  For me, the judges were on the money this time.  At this level, everybody is good, but I found Lubyantsev’s performances rather square, particularly his Mozart K. 467, which seemed an endless series of groups of four sixteenth notes without enough grace or context.

 

Filipp Kopachevskiy

Filipp Kopachevskiy

Filipp Kopachevskiy, on the other hand, gave devastating readings of the Schumann Kreisleriana and Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Sonata, and an impassioned performance (from the score, but several of the competitors exercised this option) of the commissioned work, Tchaikovsky Etude by Rodion Shchedrin.  This 21 year old Muscovite with the Beatles style mop-top made a huge impression with his first round performances as well – particularly with Tchaikovsky’s Danse Characteristique, the Chopin Grand Polonaise in A-Flat and a whirling, stomping, blindingly incandescent performance of Ravel’s La Valse that took the Shigeru Kawai piano he chose to its outer limits without for a second tipping over into ugly sound.  Three very different dances, and he brought to each one its own characteristic rhythmic impetus, but they were unmistakably his performances, in his own immediately identifiable voice.  This is a trait only the greatest players have, and it’s what makes for really compelling listening.  In this competition, at least to my ears, Mr. Kopachevskiy and First Prize winner Daniil Trifonov were the only pianists who had it.

So what happened?  As I think about his elimination I am, well – frankly rather disgusted.  His kaleidoscopic playing was so obviously superior to at least three of the four others who were promoted to the final round, that I simply can’t understand it.  And I’m not the only one.  I speak Russian – well, perhaps more accurate to say that I understand it reasonably well.  So I can tell you that when Irina Tushintseva, the Russian anchor, in her commentary introducing him in Round II referred to Kopachevsky as “number one,” John Rubinstein, laughing, replied, “Irina, you’re not allowed to say that!”

There are two possible explanations, and probably some combination of both was at work here – one is that his final performance, a Mozart Concerto (the sober K. 491 in C minor, which, having changed from Kawai he played on a Steinway, and using Mikhail Pletnev’s slightly strange cadenzas), was not his best piece.  There were no problems, not a note out of place, but somehow it didn’t seem as deeply committed as his previous work.  The other is his demeanor on stage.  Kopachevskiy displays a Rachmaninovian unwillingness to smile, and he gives little indication to the audience that he appreciates or even accepts their attention and applause.  It shouldn’t matter in one so hugely talented, but perhaps it chipped off just enough appeal to make a difference with the judges.  It’s something they should never have considered, but I can think of no other explanation.  He should easily have placed first or second.  As it was, he didn’t even get the jury’s Discretionary Prize (which went to Pavel Kolesnikov, an excellent but not really distinctive performer) – anyhow, a real blot on the entire event.

No competition at this level ever goes off entirely without controversy, and while the piano division was relatively free of scandal – apart from my own grave dissatisfaction with the elimination of Kopachevsky – a real lulu of a storm broke over the cello contest.  Apparently, in the concerto round, conductor Mark Gorenstein made a racist remark during rehearsals with Armenian finalist, Narek Hakhnazaryan, calling him something like a “redneck.”  Tchaikovsky Competition officials put out a fairly hot statement disavowing Gorenstein’s comment in surprisingly strong terms, and Gorenstein scuttled out and was quickly replaced.  Hakhnazaryan, bless him, went on to win First Prize – the ultimate revenge.  I suspect that Mr. Gorenstein’s career has suffered, in E. F. Benson’s elegant phrase, “an irretrievable eclipse.”

So, on to the final five pianists:

Fifth Prize Winner Alexei Chernov, 28, from Moscow, was a puzzle to me from the beginning.  This guy should buy a Lotto ticket, because he drew the final performance in every round, an advantageous spot by most calculations since, assuming your performance is one among many decent ones, you are at least fresh in the judges’ minds.  He began his Round II recital by pairing a short Bartok Etude (the Op. 18, No. 3) with the required Shchedrin Tchaikovsky Etude, making an attractive combination particularly with Chernov’s incisive and tangy tone and ultra clear pedaling.  Next up was the Scriabin 5th Sonata, a wild ride under any circumstances, but in this case sounding more hysterical than phantasmagorical, in part due to the lightly applied pedal which served Chernov so well in the previous pieces.  It just wasn’t juicy enough.  A simple suite by Henry Purcell was next – a daringly un-virtuosic choice for a super virtuoso competition.  A Glenn Gould, or these days a David Fray, might have made it fascinating but Mr. Chernov doesn’t have that kind of irresistible declamation in music like this.  His Schumann Symphonic Etudes suffered from attempts to exaggerate the dramatic content – too much rubato, too much stretching of phrases, pauses that went on too long, and this tendency toward questionable taste carried over into his concerto performances (Mozart, K. 595 and Tchaikovsky 1st).  He ran into trouble in the final round with the Brahms 1st Concerto – the only time it was played in this competition – trying to engage with an orchestra that here sounded seriously under-rehearsed.

I expected Fourth Prize Winner, 26 year old Alexander Romanovsky of Ukraine, to finish higher.  I thought he was a more interesting player than the two immediately above him.  His Round I Brahms Paganini Variations, a notoriously demanding work, featured some pretty spectacular playing both technically and musically.  He has a maturity of musicianship and understanding that allows him the seriousness to bring off a piece like the Symphonic Etudes, which he also played, in a natural way – without sounding as Chernov sometimes did, like a youngster wearing a stage beard.  His Tchaikovsky 1st and Rachmaninoff 3rd concertos were full of warm sound and elegant phrasing, as well as the requisite high octane that I thought would have carried him further.  Perhaps his problem was that he had the misfortune to choose the same Mozart Concerto (in A Major, K. 488) as the ultimate winner Trifonov, who played it so beautifully that some of the color seemed to drain from Romanovsky’s performance.

The youngest competitor to make the later rounds, 17 year old South Korean pianist Seong Jin Cho took Third Prize and he certainly has plenty of virtuoso chops.  His playing was uniformly clean and unfazed by any technical challenge no matter how difficult, but I missed the kind of in depth musical approach to pieces like the Schumann Humoreske and the Beethoven Sonata Op. 110, and the color and character needed to do justice to Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition which he plays well now but will play better in a few years.  The fireworks in the Tchaikovsky and Rachmainoff 3rd Concertos he handles admirably, even astonishingly for such a youngster, but he lacks some of the drama to make them really effective.

Second Prize Winner Yeol Eum Son, 25, also from South Korea, has one overriding characteristic in her playing – a kind of superhuman éclat that can easily remind you of Hofmann or Lhévinne in its supremely clear, neat and even brilliance.  Is it that she deploys it too often that bothers me, or is it just as when someone extraordinarily beautiful walks by – heads turn to look?  In any case, it becomes hard to notice anything but her spectacularly perfect execution and all that flawless pearling has the unfortunate effect of making whatever she plays sound a little bit precious.  It works to her advantage in bon-bons like Liszt’s Spanish Rhapsody and Samuel Feinberg’s extraordinary transcription of the Scherzo from Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony.  Now there’s a piece that’s seldom heard due to its phenomenal difficulty, and Ms. Son very nearly took the roof off the Bolshoi Zal with it.  Even in Mozart’s effervescent K. 467 Concerto her diamond cut playing is attractive, but in meatier repertoire like the Sonata Op. 111 of Beethoven something essential is missing.  Perhaps she’ll have to resort to the Hollywood actresses’ method for avoiding smitten fans – some kind of pianistic version of big sunglasses, no-makeup and a ratty hairdo.  I wish I got more musical satisfaction from her playing (and clearly the judges disagree with me here), but I have to admit I’d love to hear her in Schulz-Evler’s Blue Danube.

First Prize went to Daniil Trifonov and there is no question that it was richly deserved.  This 20 year old, born in Nizhny Novgorod (formerly Gorky) in the Russian heartland, is a student at the Cleveland Institute of Music in Ohio, studying with emigré Russian pianist Sergey Babayan who I vividly remember hearing practically turn the piano inside out in competition 20 years ago.  It’s an interesting combination since they are very different sorts of players.  Babayan, the incendiary virtuoso, has somehow had a hand in developing a mellow, rather introverted but angelicly pure musical soul in Trifonov.  Not that Trifonov lacks technical voltage – quite the contrary, he’s up to anything, in fact his complete Chopin Etudes, Op. 25 were one of the highlights of the entire competition, it’s just that he’s more Lipatti than Horowitz.  Every note he touched was pure gold, but I really think his crowning moment came in what must surely have been one of the loveliest performances of Mozart’s K. 488 Piano Concerto ever given.  Compelling, radiant, every gesture in the music lovingly communicated, directly and with perfect naturalness, artfully but without artifice.  It simply could not have been better.

Mr. Trifonov came to Moscow to compete in the Tchaikovsky directly from his First Prize win at the 2011 Arthur Rubinstein Competition in Tel Aviv.  The double first place finishes will doubtless give some impetus to what at his age is a fairly new career.  It’s likely to be a brilliant one.

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Festival Chamber Music in Review

Festival Chamber Music in Review
David Oei, Heléne Jeanney, piano, Eriko Sato, violin, Calvin Wiersma, viola, Ruth Sommers, cello/director, Frank Morelli, bassoon
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
May 12, 2011

Festival Chamber Music has been presenting five annual chamber music programs in New York for 18 season; it has become a pillar of the city’s musical life. The rotating members are all top-flight freelance musicians, busy as soloists, orchestra players and teachers; the group has built up a large, loyal following, which always fills the hall to overflowing.

For their final concert of the 2010-2011 season, the players had selected familiar favorites by Mozart and Brahms, and an unfamiliar novelty: a Quartet for Bassoon and Strings by Bernard Garfield, a name well-known only to listeners of “a certain age.”  Born in 1924, he was one of the most famous and esteemed bassoonists of the mid- and late 19-hundreds: founder of the New York Woodwind Quintet in 1946; principal bassoonist of the New York Little Orchestra Society and the New York City Ballet from 1949 to 1957; principal bassoonist of the Philadelphia Orchestra from 1957 to 2000. He has written numerous chamber music works featuring his instrument; the Quartet on this program dated from about 50 years ago and seemed most strongly influenced by Béla Bartók. Naturally written very idiomatically for the bassoon, it is a real bravura piece, vividly illustrating both its serious and its humorous characteristics. The slow middle movement sang in long melodic lines; the two corner movements, “Allegro con spirito” and “Allegro scherzando” were indeed full of spirit and drollery. Frank Morelli played the virtuoso bassoon part brilliantly and with great aplomb, no mean feat with the composer sitting in the first row. At 87, Garfield has the spryness of a man half his age; he had come to New York from Philadelphia, where he still lives, to hear his piece and bask in its enthusiastic reception. During Intermission, he struck up animated conversations with other members of the audience, who, having recognized his name from his years on the stage, were inquiring whether he was really the same person? “Yes,” he answered, grinning,” I’m Bernie.” The string players partnered Morelli splendidly, with obvious admiration for his virtuosity and enjoyment of the music.

The program opened with Mozart’s Sonata in F major K.497 for Piano Four Hands, played with unanimity, elegance and style by Heléne Jeanney on the upper and David Oei on the lower part. It closed with Brahms’ Piano Quartet No. 1 in G minor, Op. 25, played by Eriko Sato, Calvin Wiersma, Ruth Sommers, and David Oei. They brought out the ardor of the first movement, the wistfulness of the Intermezzo, the warmth of the Andante, and the gypsy abandon of the Rondo alla Zingarese, making it a rousing finale to the concert and the season. The group’s concerts for next season are already set: October 26, December 8, 2011, February 9, March 29, May 12, 2012.

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The New York Philharmonic in Review

The New York Philharmonic in Review
Alan Gilbert, Conductor
Lisa Batiashvili, Violinist
Avery Fisher Hall; New York, NY
May 6, 2011

Alan Gilbert conducting the New York Philharmonic; Photo by Chris Lee.

 From the moment she began, the audience was gripped by soloist Lisa Batiashvili’s bravura interpretation of Bartok’s Second Violin Concerto. The audacity and sheer technical brilliance of her playing were truly stunning.  Completely at ease, Batiashvili powered through blisteringly fast string crossings and finger-crippling passages with effortless finesse. So strong was the spell she cast that at the conclusion of her delicate second movement, the theater erupted with coughing: out of respect, the audience had strained not to make a sound until the pause.

 Batiashvili confidently attacked the thorny elements of Bartok’s concerto, but at times lyrical motifs lacked warmth and some solos felt ever so slightly rushed. Nevertheless, her flawless intonation, unshakeable sense of rhythm, and mega-watt stage presence proved that Batiashvili is truly an extraordinary artist.

 After intermission, the New York Philharmonic presented Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major, Op. 55, “Eroica”. Conductor Alan Gilbert coaxed a warm, round tone out of the Phil, and ensured that Beethoven’s symphony retained a sparkling sense of transparency even in its stormiest moments.

 Careful not to allow the brass to overcome the rest of the orchestra, (as Zubin Mehta was often criticized of during his conducting tenure), Gilbert conjured a sensitive balance, which allowed all of the solo lines to soar above the cushion of sound generated by the rest of the orchestra. Beethoven’s idiosyncratic accents were also brought out beautifully by intelligent bowing choices in the violin sections owing to the fact that Gilbert is himself an accomplished violinist.

 The “Marcia Funebre” was the most gripping movement– at the same time devastatingly bleak and sublime. It was perhaps the most moving live interpretation of this movement that I have ever witnessed.

 When Beethoven’s “Eroica” first debuted, it was criticized for being too long. At the conclusion of the Philharmonic’s performance, however, the audience at Avery Fisher Hall was left wishing the heroic strains of Beethoven’s melodies would never cease.

 –Holly Nelson for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

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2010-2011 Concert Season

Tokyo String Quartet (Martin Beaver, Kikuei Ikeda, violins, Kazuhide Isomura, viola, Clive Greensmith, cello)
92nd Street Y; New York, NY
October 30, 2010
With pianist Juho Pohjonen
January 22, 2011
With pianist Aleksandar Madzar
March 5, 2011
With pianist Robert Levin
Orion String Quartet (Daniel and Todd Phillips, violins, Steven Tenenbom, viola, Timothy Eddy, cello)
February 24, 2011
Mannes College of Music; New York, NY

This season, “late” Beethoven has been a strong presence on New York’s concert scene, and notable performances of his last string quartets were given by two of today’s most acclaimed chamber groups: the Tokyo and Orion String Quartets. Both have lived with these works throughout their careers, and, in these performances, again brought to them the consummate tonal, musical and ensemble perfection born of years of study and world-wide performances. Among the Tokyo’s New York appearances was a six-concert cycle to benefit the AIDS epidemic; the Orion presented a similar series to the City as a free gift to celebrate the new Millennium.

The Tokyo is performing the complete Beethoven cycle over four years at the 92nd Street Y, where it is Ensemble-in-Residence, devoting each season to one “period” of his works; this is the final year. For this series, the players are adding a new element to the programs: they are combining the quartets with important keyboard compositions of the same period to give audiences a wider perspective of Beethoven’s work. Their four guest pianists represent different nationalities, generations and styles, and include two extraordinarily talented young newcomers: Juho Pohjonen from Finland in his 92nd Street Y debut in the first concert, and Aleksndar Madzar from Belgrade in his New York debut in the second. Pohjonen, a multiple international prize-winner, chose an unusual calling card: Beethoven’s final set of Bagatelles, Op. 126. These six perfect miniatures look deceptively simple and are not outwardly effective, but require utmost control, sensitivity and subtlety. With remarkable concentration, flexibility, color and nuance, Pohjonen brought out their contrasting character, from dreamy ambiguity to fiery assertiveness, leaving an impression of superior pianism and communicative power.

Madza’s international career was launched when he won the 1996 Leeds Piano Competition. A fine pianist with a splendid but unobtrusive technique, his unfailingly beautiful, singing tone and distinctive lyrical gifts found full expression in the Sonatas Op. 109 and 110, and he handled the mood and tempo changes admirably.

In the third concert, the renowned American pianist, fortepianist and scholar Robert Levin played the Piano Sonata Op. 101 with his customary clarity and nobility; the Quartet’s cellist, Clive Greensmith, joined him for a lovely, expressive performance of the Cello Sonata Op. 102, No. 1.

The Tokyo performed the Quartet Op. 130 with the original Finale, the thorny, daunting “Great Fugue,” and the Quartets Op. 127, 132, and 135. They will close the series with Op. 131 in the fourth concert on May 7; their guest will be the brilliant young Russian pianist Kirill Gerstein in Beethoven’s last Sonata, Op. 111, and the Bagatelles Op 119.

The Orion Quartet is Ensemble-in-Residence at the Mannes College of Music, where it presents an annual concert series. Its most recent program featured Beethoven’s Quartet Op. 131, and Brahms’ Op. 51 No. 2, to show how Brahms continued Beethoven’s legacy and where he diverged from it. However, these two works revealed a sort of inverse legacy: Beethoven’s free, continuous seven-movement structure seemed far more innovative than Brahms’ traditional four movements.

The performance, as always, was distinguished by its technical and ensemble perfection, its tonal and rhythmic balance, its control, spontaneity, and its deeply felt expressiveness.

Both halls were filled to the rafters and the ovations would not stop.

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Live from Lincoln Center/New York Philharmonic in Review

Live from Lincoln Center/New York Philharmonic in Review
Alan Gilbert, conductor
Lang Lang, piano
New Year’s Eve Concert; December 31, 2010
Avery Fisher Hall, telecast on PBS

Lang Lang - Photo Credit: Detlef Schneider

Perhaps as a contribution to the ongoing diplomatic efforts at improving American-Russian relations, the New York Philharmonic’s Music Director Alan Gilbert chose an all-Tchaikovsky program for the Orchestra’s traditional New Year’s Eve concert. It featured a selection from three major genres of the composer’s work: the Polonaise from the opera “Eugene Onegin,” the second act of the ballet “The Nutcracker,” and the first Piano Concerto, with the brilliant, young Chinese pianist Lang Lang as soloist.

Seen on television, it was a wonderfully varied, exciting concert, a bonanza of beguiling melodies, exhilarating dances, exuberant orchestra playing, and superlative pianism. The musicians threw themselves into these repertory favorites with a freshness undimmed by familiarity. The Polonaise had a zestful swing; the “Nutcracker” dances were fascinating for their idiomatic, rhythmic and instrumental diversity. “Nutcracker,” the ballet, had been a ubiquitous presence throughout the Holidays, performed not only–as usual–at the State Theatre by the City Ballet, but also at the Brooklyn Academy by Ballet Theatre. Still, hearing that delightful music played by a great orchestra in full view on a concert stage instead of from a pit was grand.

The Tchaikovsky Concerto is one of Lang Lang’s signature pieces; he first performed it as a boy of 13. He himself feels that his interpretation has deepened his ability to listen to and interact with the orchestra grown more acute and spontaneous. At this performance, he certainly maintained a strong contact with the conductor and the orchestral soloists by looks, gestures, and, less visibly but no less perceptibly, by projecting and telegraphing his musical intentions. Indeed, his immersion in the music was so complete that one got the feeling he became one with it, letting it flow from his head and his heart to his fingertips. The most amazing aspect of his playing is not that he can generate incredible speeds without losing clarity, and huge volumes of sound without losing quality, but that all his excesses – physical, rhythmical, and emotional – are never a showman’s indulgences, but an expression of a genuine, spontaneous response to the music. True, his tempo changes are perhaps too frequent and too drastic, but he makes them sound totally natural. Of course, his liberties demand extraordinary cooperation and sensitivity from conductors and orchestras, but the musicians of the Philharmonic were right with him in fact and spirit. From her seat behind him, concertmistress Sheryl Staples watched him with obvious admiration, her face lighting up with a smile at every felicitous turn of phrase or change of expression. At the end, the ovations went on and on.

Lincoln Center’s live telecasts are its best gift to New Yorkers, especially since it’s housebound and infirm, and the Philharmonic broadcasts offer an extra bonus: the opportunity, denied regular concert goers, to get a frontal view of the conductor. Watching Alan Gilbert in action is a delight: swaying with the rhythm, his face wreathed in smiles, his enjoyment of the music and the gorgeous sounds produced by his players sheds a warm glow over both sides of the footlights. 

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Orchestra of St. Luke’s in Review

Orchestra of St. Luke’s in Review
Christian Tetzlaff, Violinist and Leader
Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
October 28, 2010

Christian Tetzlaff

Christian Tetzlaff is a brilliant violinist with a scholarly mind and a passionate heart. His repertoire ranges from the baroque to the present, and he is equally at home in recitals, concertos and chamber music. In this concert, he demonstrated yet another facet of his versatility: as leader of an orchestra, both as concertmaster and soloist.

In the latter capacity, he presented Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major K.216 (1775), and the Carnegie Hall premiere of Sibelius’ Suite for Violin and Strings, Op. 11 (1929). Standing in the middle of the orchestra facing the audience and playing from the score (which he certainly did not need), he did not really conduct, for, to these infinitely adaptable, protean players, following him seemed second nature. In the Mozart, he joined the first violins in the tuttis; playing with his usual clarity, charm, and expressiveness, his tone was pristinely beautiful throughout. He reserved his virtuosity for his own cadenzas, though his facility tempted him to adopt record-breaking tempos. The three Sibelius pieces are pleasant miniatures with bucolic titles: “Country Scenery,” “Evening in Spring,” and “In the Summer. The first two are calm and pastoral, but the third is a Perpetuum mobile, played here at a speed beyond human ears. (Why should the summer be in such a hurry?) The only cavil about Tetzlaff’s performances was visual, not musical: his playing is so natural and effortless that it is a pleasure to watch, but his knee-bends, dips and gyrations are enough to induce sea-sickness.

For the rest of the program, he sat in the first chair, which limited his mobility somewhat but not entirely, and since the members of this orchestra also like to indulge in a good deal of physical activity, the stage looked like a sea of swaying bodies.

Schoenberg’s “Verklärte Nacht” Op. 4, written for string sextet in 1899 and orchestrated in 1943, was inspired by a poem by Richard Dehmel. It depicts a man and a woman walking through a moonlit forest, her anguished confession that, yearning for motherhood, she conceived another’s child before she met him, and his understanding, reassuring response. Schoenberg captured the glittering moonlight, the dark, despairing beginning and the radiant, hopeful end, as well as the intense, fraught human emotions, with shimmering, surging, super-romantic music. Its lush sonorities are well served by the orchestral version, but its contrapuntal complexity is clearer in the sextet. Moreover, in the chamber version all parts are equal, while the orchestra’s violas and cellos have to be split in half, tilting the balance in favor of the violins, which are naturally divided into two sections.

Tetzlaff led a luxurious-sounding, emotionally concentrated performance, keeping things together with some big gestures and a bit of discreet time-beating. Haydn’s Symphony No. 80 in D minor(1784) was distinguished by the expressiveness of the Adagio, the grace of the Menuetto, and the hectic tempo of the Finale, which brought the house down.  

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András Schiff & The Kalichstein-Laredo-Robinson Trio in Review

András Schiff, piano
Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
October 26, 2010
The Kalichstein-Laredo-Robinson Trio
Joseph Kalichstein, piano, Jaimie Laredo, violin, Sharon Robinson, cello
Michael Tree, viola, Anthony McGill, clarinet
Kaufman Auditorium, 92nd Street Y
October 28, 2010

András Schiff

 

The 200th birthdays of Robert Schumann and Fredéric Chopin are being celebrated this year in performances all over the world.

Two memorable Schumann programs were presented here recently. Pianist András Schiff likes to concentrate on a single composer and has frequently offered total immersions in the music of Bach, Beethoven, Schubert and others. So it was natural for him to devote his recent recital to four major compositions by Schumann, all sets of shorter pieces, the genre in which he excelled.

The program opened with the latest of the four works: “Waldszenen” (Forest Scenes) Op. 82 (1848-49). These nine character sketches, bearing poetic titles such as “Lonely Flowers,” “Friendly Landscape,” “Accursed Place,” fairly breathe the air of an enchanted forest; the most famous one is “Prophet Bird,” whose light, tonally ambiguous downward arpeggios really suggest a bird in flight. Schiff underlined the delicacy, pastel shades and changing moods of these elusive pieces; as always, his tone was uniquely beautiful and his control of dynamics (mostly subdued) and color were remarkable.

In another intimate, introspective set, “Kinderszenen” (Scenes from Childhood) Op. 15 (1838), Schumann depicts the activities and emotions of children – probably observed in his own family – with remarkable empathy.  “Träumerei” (Dreaming) has become so popular that it has been subjected to innumerable transcriptions, many unfortunately ill-suited to its innocent simplicity.

The program’s other two works, “Davidsbündlertänze” Op. 6 (1837) and “Symphonic Etudes” Op. 13 (1834-37, rev. 1852), are more substantial in scope and content. Both invoke creatures of Schumann’s imagination, notably his alter egos, the introspective Eusebius and the fiery Florestan. In addition, there is the League of David, who, like their Biblical models, are united in their fight against the (musical) Philistines. Schiff brought out the character of the different dances in the “Davidsbündler” (where, contrary to his usual custom, he did not observe the repeats and omitted two numbers), and all the mercurial moods of the “Etudes,” from the dark somberness of the Theme to the ebullience of the Finale.

Never one to stint on encores, he rewarded the audience’s enthusiasm with the entire “Papillions” (with repeats) and the Finale of the C-major Fantasie.

Chamber Music at the Y, founded and directed by Jaimie Laredo, violinist of the KLR Trio, its resident artists, is devoting this entire season to Schumann, but combining his works with those of his friends and contemporaries. At the first concert, the guest composer was Brahms, whose Trio for clarinet, cello and piano was flanked by three works by Schumann. The Trio’s guest artists were Michael Tree, violist of the now unfortunately retired Guarneri Quartet, and Anthony McGill, the spectacular new principal clarinetist of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra.

Kalichstein-Laredo-Robinson Trio

 

The concert was a most auspicious opening of the Y’s season. Kalichstein, who played every piece on the program, was, as always, a superb partner; he adjusted his style and beautiful, singing tone to each instrumental (and personal) combination in close rapport, and, despite the open piano, was never too loud. In the “Fantasy Pieces” Op. 73 for clarinet and piano (1849), McGill brought out the widely different character of the three pieces, displaying an extraordinary variety of color and nuance; his musical projection was so strong and genuine that his excessive body-language was an unnecessary distraction.

By contrast, Tree’s playing of the “Fairy Tale Pictures” Op. 113 (1851) was a model of dignity and inward expressiveness. These four pieces are less idiomatic to the instrument than the Fantasy Pieces; the viola’s low register and relatively subdued sound are easily overpowered by the heavy piano part, especially in the two middle pieces, no matter how careful and discreet the pianist tries to be. Tree and Kalichstein achieved an unusually good balance, but the two slow corner pieces still came off best: the first, with its closely interwoven voices, was an intimate conversation; the last was a deeply moving, pensive, resigned song of farewell. After over 30 years of partnering string players, Kalichstein’s ability to match the viola sound was uncanny.

We owe the Brahms Clarinet Trio Op.114 (1891) to the great clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld. Brahms, though not yet 60 years old, had decided to stop composing in 1890, but when he met Mühlfeld a year later, he was so impressed with his artistry that he was inspired to write four works for him: a trio, a quintet, and two sonatas.  All are suffused with an autumnal, nostalgic mellowness, as if the setting sun were casting its last golden glow over the landscape. In these mature masterpieces, Brahms was at the peak of his compositional mastery; the Trio is a perfect blend of almost soloistic rhetoric and close ensemble. The performance was beautiful, austere but warm, unanimous and deeply felt; the three players projected their love of the music and their pleasure in one another’s company from first note to last.

The program closed with Schumann’s Piano Quartet Op. 47 (1842). At 32, Schumann, in his own words, was also “at the height of his powers.” Indeed, the Quartet’s concision, its combination of structural discipline and poetic romanticism, give it an air of sanguine self-confidence that makes it special among Schumann’s works. Every instrument gets its share of solo passages; the players reveled in the luscious melodies without becoming sentimental, and in the brilliant passages without upstaging one another. The concert was a total joy.

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