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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Mahler #5 Symphonies 1&4 in Review

Mahler #5 Symphonies 1&4 in Review
Mariinsky Orchestra, Valery Gergiev, cond.
Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
October 24, 2010

Valery Gergiev

 

[Mahler was an inveterate reviser; he subjected many of his works to years of sporadic major and minor emendations, sometimes beyond their premieres. The First and Fourth symphonies are extreme examples of this obsessive self-criticism; he kept revising the First from 1884 to 1906 and the Fourth from 1892 to 1910.]

 

One of the most astounding aspects of Gergiev’s Mahler series was that all five concerts took place within a single week, during which the Orchestra also performed the Eighth Symphony in Washington, and Gergiev conducted “Boris Godunov” at the Metropolitan Opera. It was an extraordinary tour-de-force, a feat of physical, mental and emotional endurance that would cause battle-fatigue in the hardiest, most indefatigable musicians. But not until the last concert did they exhibit any kind of strain; their concentration seemed to flag, the horns clammed, intonation and ensemble precision were shakier than before. Toward the end, they rallied, marshaling their energy for the final push.

Having begun his Mahler series with the thorny, dark Symphony No.6, Gergiev concluded this installment with two of the brightest, most accessible ones: No.1 and No.4.

Mahler wrote his Sixth Symphony in 1903 and 1904, as usual in the summer. He had married his beloved Alma a year earlier; their first child had just been born and they were expecting another. It seems paradoxical that he composed the symphony he himself called the “Tragic” during that singularly happy time; some scholars have suggested that this was precisely what gave him the strength and courage to look into the darkness of the abyss. The sunny, cheerful Fourth Symphony with its sleigh-bells and its childlike, innocent description of heaven, on the other hand, was written during the early years of his musically and politically embattled Directorship of the Vienna Opera.

Among Mahler’s symphonies, the Fourth, begun in 1899, is unique in its comparative sunny brightness and cheerful spirit. This is already indicated in the movements’ tempo markings, which range from “comfortable” to “tranquil” and warn against haste and hurry. The orchestration, too, is lighter than usual, omitting low brass and percussion in favor of glockenspiel and sleigh-bells. But it is still haunted by  and sarcasm and eerie thoughts of death: the third movement is a spooky waltz called “Death plays for the dance,” a violin solo to be played on an instrument tuned a whole-tone higher to produce a strident, grating sound. (The concertmaster uses a second violin already re-tuned.) Leading into the from. The long slow Variation movement climaxes in a sudden burst of ecstasy that subsides to bring in the Finale: a setting of his early “Magic Horn” song “The Heavenly Life”, for soprano. Mahler originally planned to use it in the Third Symphony, but then felt it fitted better into the Fourth. It depicts a child’s vision of Heaven and is a companion-piece to the song “The Earthly Life.” Both are meditations on food: the “Earthly Life” describes a child starving for want of bread, the “Heavenly Life” describes a plethora of meat, vegetables, fruits, breads, and their preparation by saints and angels. Finally, it becomes a paean to celestial music and ends in blissful serenity.

Soprano Anastasia Kalagina in her third appearance on the series avoided the twin dangers, which Mahler himself warned against, of sounding either childlike or condescending, and sang with natural warmth and delicacy. The only cavils were that the violin solo sounded too civilized, not raucous or menacing enough for a “Dance of Death,” and that the strings “milked” the sentimental Viennese slides too gleefully.

The First Symphony, begun in 1884-1888, expresses Mahler’s profound love of nature. (It originally had a fifth movement which Mahler later suppressed and which is heard today occasionally as a separate piece. The title  “Blumine” is derived from the word “Blume” – flower.) It begins with a soft tone in the highest register, heard as if from a distance – Mahler says “Like a sound of nature.” Comparatively straight-forward structurally, it is not yet subject to as many eruptions of wrenching agony and fits of fury as the later symphonies, though perceptive listeners can already detect the seeds of those characteristics. It includes no voices, but is full of allusions to vocal music: two of Mahler’s own “Songs of a Wayfarer” and “Frere Jaques,” (known to German-speaking children as “Brother Martin”) in the minor mode. First stated as a mournful double-bass solo, it is developed into a slow, solemn, lugubrious canon that winds through the whole orchestra, then turns into a grotesquely distorted dance, complete with sliding strings and shrilling woodwinds. It is significant that, in addition to the title “Titan,” Mahler initially provided an elaborate descriptive program for each movement, and discarded it (as he later also did with the Third Symphony) when he felt that audiences no longer needed a roadmap through them.

New York audiences owe Gergiev and the Mariinsky Orchestra a great debt of gratitude for this concentrated immersion in Mahler’s symphonies, and look forward avidly to the cycle’s completion in February.

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Orion String Quartet in Review

Orion String Quartet in Review
Mannes College of Music; New York, NY
October 22, 2010
November 11, 2010

Orion String Quartet

The Orion String Quartet (Daniel and Todd Phillips, alternating violins, Steven Tenenbom, viola, Timothy Eddy, cello), opened its annual concert series at the Mannes College of Music, where it is in residence, with a performance of “The Art of the Fugue,”  Bach’s monumental final work. He wrote it  in 1750 during the last days of his life, leaving the last fugue unfinished, as a kind of summing up of his exploration of counterpoint. He gave no instructions for the work’s execution, so it is up to the players to determine the most appropriate instruments for its realization. As a result, it has inspired arrangements for combinations ranging from small chamber groups to full orchestra. The Orion Quartet chose the transcription for four strings and five winds by the late great flutist, Samuel Baron, and enlisted the renowned woodwind quintet Windscape (Tara Helen O’Connor, flute, Randall Ellist, oboe, Alan R. Kay, clarinet, Frank Morelli, bassoon, David Jolley, horn) as partners.

The concert was extremely interesting. Baron used the instruments with great inventiveness, sometimes alternating strings and winds, sometimes mixing them in various combinations, sometimes merging both groups in their entirety. Such an imaginative transcription harbors the danger of focusing  the listener’s interest on the instrumental timbres rather than the musical content, as if the subject of a painting had been submerged in its brilliant colors. Baron averted this hazard:  though making the most of the instruments’ timbral variety, his settings underline and enhance the counterpoint and bring out the character of each section. The only somewhat incongruous, indeed jarring sound was that of the clarinet, which Bach could not even have imagined.

The performance was most excellent. Dynamics were carefully planned, calibrated for contrast, build-up, clarity and balance; the phrasing was exemplary, the playing expressive, austere, and pristinely beautiful. Naturally, each group was perfectly unified in itself, but when they intermingled or combined, they also sounded totally integrated.

For its second concert, the Orion reverted to its usual configuration as a string quartet for a program as deeply rooted in romanticism as the first had been in classical baroque: Schumann’s Quartet No. 1 in A minor, Op. 41 No. 1 (1842), and Schubert’s final Quartet No. 15 in G major, Op. 161 (1826).

Schumann’s Quartet finds him in his “Eusebius” mode. The first movement is lyrical, calm and serene, with long flowing melodies and friendly give-and-take between the instruments. The Scherzo (like most Scherzos written at that time), shows the influence of that supreme master of the genre, Mendelssohn, but it is more robust, less elfin than his. It also departs from its model by featuring two contrasting Trios. Schumann the “Lieder” composer takes over the slow movement, as one instrument spins out a sustained melody while the others weave garlands around it. The Finale is a brilliant run-around with the instruments chasing one another in cascading scale-passages.

The Schubert is not only one of the greatest, but also one of the longest, physically and emotionally most exhausting Quartets in the literature. The Orion added to its “heavenly length” by taking all the repeats – a feat of courage and endurance. The music encompasses the heights and depths of human emotion, but has about it an underlying air of resignation and farewell. In the first movement, drama and lyricism alternate; the questioning, searching second theme is developed with endlessly inventive rhythmic variety, accompanied by wildly leaping tremolos, a basically orchestral, strenuous bowing device that can make one’s right arm ache just to watch. The slow movement is one of Schubert’s most moving compositions. Its beautiful, melancholy minor-mode theme is interrupted by a wrenching outburst of passionate despair; the theme’s return in major seems like a sadly smiling, parting ray of sunshine.

The Scherzo is fleet, and spooky in the minor-mode passages; the Trio is a lilting, wine-happy waltz. The very long Finale is in constant emotional flux, not only between its several themes, but also within them, restlessly changing from minor to major, turbulent to carefree, stern to playful. Though technically and musically very demanding, its greatest difficulty probably lies in keeping up with these sudden, drastic mood-changes. The Orion’s players met this challenge, as well as all the others posed by this program, with flying colors. As is their custom, the violinists traded parts, Todd taking the first in the Schumann, Daniel in the Schubert. Though each has a distinctly individual sound and puts his own personal stamp on the works he leads, the group’s tonal homogeneity and musical unanimity is totally unaffected by who sits in which chair. Their expressiveness, always deeply felt and dictated by their response to the music, speaks directly to the listeners’ hearts. No wonder their concerts draw a standing-room-only audience of devoted, enthusiastic admirers.

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Solomon Mikowsky Dedication Concert in Review

Solomon Mikowsky Dedication Concert in Review
Solomon Gadles Mikowsky Recital Hall, New York, NY
Manhattan School of Music
October 3, 2010

Dr. Solomon Mikowsky

“Turnabout is fair play”, the saying goes. Frequently, an institution will pay homage to a great and distinguished member of its faculty. But this time, Solomon Mikowsky – who has certainly earned a tribute for his years as a renowned piano pedagogue who has produced many fine artists (and competition winners) –  honored the Manhattan School of Music with a beautiful and heartwarming gesture: a gift of a superb recital hall, replete with two Steinway concert grand pianos and a capacity for audio and video recording (plus a third Steinway Model B grand for his adjacent studio). On Sunday afternoon, October 3rd, I was honored to be present for the grand opening festivities of the Solomon Gadles Mikowsky Recital Hall on the third floor of the MSM. Dr. Mikowsky’s tribute was not only to this school, but also in honor of 12 of his former and present pupils who held forth with a fine concert by way of a retrospect. The live recital commenced with a recorded performance of Bach’s Fantasy and Fugue in A Minor as performed by Mikowsky at the age of fourteen. In front of the audience was a photograph of the fledgling virtuoso (what a handsome devil he was!). Later on, at the behest of many of his appreciative charges, Dr. Mikowsky (who was going to remain silent) played a Galuppi Sonata with elegant taste and good tone, showing us all that he can still “do” as well as teach!

Dr. Mikowsky was born Solomon Gadles in Cuba of Russian-Polish parentage and his mother’s maiden name was Mikowska. His early musical training was with Cesar Perez Sentenat, who had studied in Madrid with Cubiles and in Paris with Joaquin Nin, a pupil of Moszkowski, himself a pupil of Liszt. Later, he earned his degrees at the Juilliard School, working with Sascha Gorodnitzki (Bachelors and Masters degrees) and a doctorate from Columbia University. Frequently invited to serve on the juries of important international piano competitions, he has given master classes worldwide, and is the author of a book on nineteenth-century Cuban music.

Dr. Solomon Mikowsky with his students. Photo Credit: Brian Hatton

The impressive recitalists included two Domenico Scarlatti sonatas (A Minor, Longo 241, Kirkpatrick 54; and A Major, L. 395, K. 533) played with brilliant note-perfect fluency by Inesa Sinkevych, but with one gaffe: the printedprogram attributed them to Domenico’s father, Alessandro, 1660-1725 (who wrote vocal music!); Liszt’s F Minor Concert Etude, La Leggierezza (Ian Yungwook Yoo); Chopin’s C-sharp Minor Etude, Op. 10, No. 4 (Kookhee Hong); Albeniz’s Asturias (Jovianney Emmanuel Cruz); Albeniz’s Evocacion from Iberia (Gustavo Diaz-Jerez (who had originally intended to play El Puerto from the same work); Lecuona’s Cordoba (Yuan Sheng, who played lustily, although I have heard him play Bach wonderfully well and also had glowing words for his Schubert B flat Sonata, D. 960); the ubiquitous Albeniz Tango in Godowsky’s  gussied-up arrangement (Ren Zhang); Scriabin’s Etude in C-sharp Minor, Op 8, No. 12 (Alexander Moutouzkine); Ravel’s “Pavane pour une infante  defunte” (Youngho Kim); Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Major, Op. 32, No. 5 (Wael Farouk, a Shura Cherkassy look-alike who I glowingly reviewed in New York Concert Review for his account of Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto with the MSM orchestra last year); Busoni’s Sonatine super Carmen No. 6, K. 284 (Kirill Gerstein, a recent Gilmore Artist Award and Avery Fisher Grant winner); and finally the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations (Simone Dinnerstein; truly an Aria da Capo; the first time I heard her play at the tender age of 11, Ms. Dinnerstein was a pupil of Dr. Mikowsky and she has many accomplishments to her credit in the intervening years—subsequent studies with Herbert Stessin, Maria Diamond (a student of Artur Schnabel) and Peter Serkin. Herself-produced CD of the Goldberg, now available on Telarc, has been acclaimed a best-seller).

I must comment that the room can accommodate an audience of 50, and that its acoustics are ideally crystal clear, absolutely perfect for the obvious ideals of Dr. Mikowsky’s taste for extreme digital clarity and articulation, Spartan and judicious pedaling and discipline, as opposed to an often esteemed and encountered murkiness that could (and often does) hide a multitude of sins by less technically adroit students.

The concert was followed by a lavish reception and dinner, capping a joyously memorable and touching occasion. Congratulations to all, and especially to Solomon Mikowsky!

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Mahler Symphony No. 6 – New York Philharmonic Review

New York Philharmonic
Alan Gilbert, conductor
Avery Fisher Hall, New Yrok, NY
October 1, 2010

New York Philharmonic led by Alan Gilbert-Photo Credit: Stephanie Berger

In 2009, the New York Philharmonic, America’s oldest orchestra, departed from its longtime tradition of engaging venerable European Music Directors, and appointed 42-year-old Alan Gilbert, the first native New Yorker to hold the post. Though he had established himself in previous appearances, his comparative youth seemed to cause some misgivings, which were dispelled by his very successful inaugural season. Now his performance of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony has convinced all who heard it that New York City has set its own homegrown star on the musical firmament.

Comparisons are notoriously odious, but it was impossible to avoid contrasting, even unconsciously, Gilbert’s approach with that of the two conductors of the Vienna Philharmonic, on display the same week. The period-style-influenced Harnoncourt seemed intent on proving a scholarly point, the charismatic Dudamel on proving himself; Gilbert was intent on serving the music and communicating his love for it.

Watching him conduct is a pleasure. He never exaggerates or calls attention to himself, making his  gestures fit the music without acting it out, and, however exciting or emotional the moment may be, his beat remains perfectly clear. Conducting mostly from memory, he knows the music down to the smallest detail, and responds to it with total involvement.

An articulate speaker and writer, Gilbert has sometimes addressed the audience before a concert to introduce the music to be performed; this time, he discussed it in the printed program, focusing on the conductor’s responsibility to make interpretive choices and decisions.

Mahler’s Sixth Symphony is beset by uncertainties. He kept changing his mind about the order of the two middle movements, and about the number of hammer-strokes in the Finale. Supposedly intended to represent the blows of Fate, Mahler originally wrote three, then eliminated the third as too final; conductors have made their own decisions ever since. For reasons explained in his essay, Gilbert opted to place the slow movement second, the Scherzo third, and to include the third hammer stroke.

But there are choices to be made in all Mahler symphonies, which, though less obvious to the listener, are no less crucial to the interpretation. Mahler was a superb contrapuntalist and orchestrator; he wove a dense, complex texture of many independently moving lines and voices. They all seem equally important in theory, but in practice, it is obviously impossible to make them all equally prominent; conductors constantly have to decide which should be highlighted. This is one reason why a familiar symphony can sound almost like a new piece in a different conductor’s hands: one hears lines that one never heard before.

 Gilbert again demonstrated his proven ability to make the densest scores transparent, bringing out many usually obscured lines without entirely suppressing the rest. Surprisingly, one significant detail got lost: the changes from major to minor that magically turn sunlight into darkness.

Mahler often changes color by distributing melodic lines between different instruments; connecting them without interrupting their continuity creates another challenge for conductors and orchestras. The Philharmonic musicians handled it admirably: their take-overs were totally imperceptible, and all the solos were marvelous. Altogether, the orchestra has never sounded better or more inside the music; the audience was drawn in from first note to last. But the performance was Alan Gilbert’s triumph: having made all the right choices, he paid meticulous attention to every detail, yet sustained his grasp of the whole, infinitely complex work, its manifold mood and character-changes, and its towering climaxes – a truly impressive achievement.

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