North/South Chamber Orchestra

Max Lifchitz, conductor

Anna Tonna, mezzo-soprano

Álvar Rubio Comino, piano

Donna Weng Friedman, piano

Diana Solomon-Glover, narrator

DiMenna Center for Classical Music, New York, NY

March 27, 2025

The North/South Chamber Orchestra, under the direction of Max Lifchitz, presented a concert entitled “From Barcelona to New York,” playing works by composers Anna Cazurra and Stefania De Kenessey at the DiMenna Center on March 27^th.  Both Ms. Cazurra and Ms. De Kenessey were present and spoke about their compositions.

The “Barcelona”  component was made up of three works by Anna Cazurra – Atlántida, Gran Tango and Tensho. Atlántida, Op. 6, for piano and chamber orchestra, opened the evening. Álvar Rubio Comino was the pianist. Atlántida is a single-movement work that straddles the line between a piano concerto and a piano chamber work. There is a strong tango-like feeling that reminds one of Piazzolla, with virtuosic piano writing that adds both drama and color to propel the work. Mr. Comino was outstanding in handling the technical challenges, but in also shaping and projecting the flavor of the tango without making it “hammy.” The string ensemble itself was uneven. There were moments of spirited playing interspersed with some jarring intonation issues. Gran Tango, Op. 73, which followed, had the same piano/orchestra combination – and a similar spirit. Mr. Comino again was the star, and some very stylish work from the strings, especially the double bass, was nicely done. Again, some of those intonation issues (especially in exposed areas in the high register) persisted. That’s one of the challenges of a small ensemble – even one player having a “sour” moment affects the whole.

Tensho, using a set of five short poems by the Catalan poet Carlos Duarte (b. 1969) as text, followed. Tensho is a Japanese word that refers to the notion of the emergence of a new era. Originally composed for soprano and piano in 2016, this version is a setting of these songs for soprano and string orchestra composed in November 2024. Mezzo-soprano Anna Tonna took the stage as the vocal soloist. One might expect the idea of a new era to be one of optimism, but the overriding feeling was one of lament, with the exception of the fifth and last song, El cel (The Sky), which was sunny with a snazzy tango spirit to boot.

Ms. Cazurra set these poems sympathetically. Her writing for the soprano captured the somber moods and laments with skill. Ms. Tonna brought these moods forth with a strength and clarity that was palpable. Her performance was the highlight of the “Barcelona” part of this concert. The strings were shown to better advantage here, and their addition did add “heft.” While this setting was interesting, I am not sure that it showed Ms. Tonna to her maximum advantage. I would be interested in hearing this work in the original soprano and piano version.

The “New York” component of the program was Stefania De Kenessey’s Microvids. About Microvids, Ms. De Kenessey writes, “Isolated and alone during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, sitting at my piano, I was thinking more and more often about young musicians of every age, background and ability, trying to imagine their anxiety, their worry, their sense of confusion. What were they doing? What were they thinking? What were they feeling? More importantly, what could I do to help? The result was Microvids, 19 miniatures for piano, intended for beginner students of all ages. The title is a nod to Bartók’s Mikrokosmos, fondly remembered from my childhood, but the music is transposed to our own age and culture, with short pieces that are rhythmically compelling, musically tuneful, and – more importantly – emotionally uplifting. Microvids also features an interesting theatrical touch: each piece comes with a descriptive title and a short accompanying poem, penned by this composer (these additions were at the suggestion of pianist Donna Weng Friedman, who also suggested the addition of other instruments as well) . The premiere of Microvids, arranged for piano with string chamber ensemble, is dedicated to my esteemed friend and colleague, composer and conductor Max Lifchitz.”

What a fun work this is! Ms. De Kenessey has an undoubtedly strong ability to capture moods and paint tonal pictures with the simplest of means, which was perfect for these small pieces. The addition of the texts, spoken and performed by the dynamic Diana Solomon-Glover, added extra “hooks” for the listener to get more from the music. The North/South Chamber Orchestra gave their very best in this work, which made Microvids the highlight of the evening for this listener. The hero in all this would be pianist Donna Weng Friedman. These small pieces are obviously something a player of her ability could dash off in a coma, but she gave each and every piece the attention and commitment that one might reserve for a large-scale virtuoso work. That effort really made a huge difference. What could have been just another bored player plunking out “kiddie” stuff became delightfully impactful instead. I’d like to mention a few favorites – Running on Empty (nice work, violins!), In A Moment ( a little homage to Schubert), Fooled You (The Beatles peek in with a little “Hard Day’s Night” ), and That’s What You Think (a madcap frenzy). In this version, one could easily see a bright future for Microvids, especially for young audiences.

WA Sinfonietta

Charles Neidich, conductor and soloist

Good Shepherd-Faith Presbyterian Church, New York, NY

March 23, 2025

Regular readers of New York Concert Review are well-acquainted with the WA Concert Series run by the noted clarinetists Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima Neidich. Tonight marked the inaugural performance of the newly established WA Sinfonietta, under the aegis of the Artena Foundation (founded by the Neidichs). A recent article in New York Concert Review speaks about the foundation and the Sinfonietta’s mission (plus interesting details about this evening’s program), which the reader should investigate : A Conversation with Charles Neidich.  Tonight’s program mirrored the October 25, 1885 concert program in which Brahms’s 4^th symphony was premiered (though the Mozart Clarinet Concerto tonight replaced the Brahms Violin Concerto that was performed in 1885 ). A large crowd jostled for open seats as the hall filled in anticipation of this exciting event. I might add too that this was one of the most appreciative and supportive audiences that this listener can recall being a part of for some time. It was wonderful to see and hear.

Let’s get my main complaint out of the way. There were no printed program notes, but Mr. Neidich spoke before each work. When you are going to have “spoken program notes” it is imperative that the speaker can be heard by all in the hall without abnormal effort. Mr. Neidich (in his own words) does not have a “stentorian” voice, and much of what he said was not completely audible for much of the audience. Mr. Neidich has a wealth of knowledge to share, and it was regrettable that much of it was lost in the hollows of the hall. A microphone would have easily solved this issue.

Charles Neidich took the floor to be both the conductor and soloist for the Mozart Clarinet Concerto, K.622. Completed in 1791, it was, as Mr. Neidich reminds us, the last large-scale Mozart completed in his lifetime. He plays a version that is probably as close to being authentic as possible (the original manuscript having been lost) on the Basset Clarinet (for which it was originally written), which has an extended lower range.

This work is far and away the most frequently performed clarinet concerto. This listener has had the experience of both hearing it and playing it in ensembles with countless numbers of clarinetists eager to display their “chops” with varying degrees of success. I was anxious to hear what a player of Mr. Neidich’s caliber would do, coupled with the use of a basset clarinet instead of a standard clarinet. As the saying goes, “you’ve heard the rest, now it is time to hear the best.” As I said about Mr. Neidich in an earlier review, it’s not just about the virtuosity, but what you do with it. I’ve heard plenty of soulless exhibitions of technical prowess, and others with lovely tones in slower sections to cover for the muddy “slip-and-slide” passagework in the faster sections. There is none of this with Mr. Neidich – he has virtuosity in spades, and the singing lyricism is all in accordance with what he calls his “operatic” approach to this work. The lower tones of the basset are very rich and robust, and Mr. Neidich revels in them. The Rondo was especially notable for the way Mr. Neidich nimbly dispatched the virtuosic demands with crystal clarity. The audience gave him a loud and extended ovation, with several callbacks. The Sinfonietta deserves high marks both for following Mr. Neidich as a conductor and for taking his lead as a soloist – which is more challenging than when one conducts from the keyboard. A lot more vigilance and discipline is required from the orchestra here. It was a fine start to the evening!

Felix Mendelssohn’s Overture to Die schöne Melusine (The Fair Melusine), Op. 32 (the 1835 second edition), followed the Mozart. The piece was written in 1834 as a birthday gift for Mendelssohn’s sister Fanny. (Mendelssohn must have been a hard act to follow in the gift-giving department!) In a letter to Fanny, Felix explains that he had picked the subject after seeing Conradin Kreutzer’s opera Melusina the previous year in Berlin. In a nutshell, he hated it but was intrigued with the subject matter enough to write his own overture (perhaps his version of the alleged Beethoven quip, “I like your opera – I think I will set it to music.”). I’ll spare the reader the long story details and give the TL:DR version: Mermaid and man story ends badly. As Mr. Neidich joked, it takes longer to tell the story than it takes to play the overture! Schumann claimed he detected close musical references to the tale, which Mendelssohn denied, but it is clear there is music of happiness and storm that would mirror the outlines of the story to some degree. Clocking in around eleven minutes, it is an imaginative and lively piece that the WA Sinfonietta played with gusto (some might even claim, with too much so, but I will always take more than less!). There were some minor issues of balance, but these never really had any long-term negative impact.  Mr. Neidich is an involved and energetic conductor, and his ensemble reflected that back with great effect. The audience roared its approval in another extended display of enthusiasm.

After intermission, Johannes Brahms’s Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98, was the final work of the evening. Music historian and Brahms scholar Michael Musgrave, who was scheduled to speak, was ill and unable to attend. Mr. Neidich spoke in his place. There is much information in the previously mentioned link (A Conversation with Charles Neidich), especially about the Meiningen Court Orchestra and its importance to Brahms, which I’m not going to repeat here. I will mention that the WA Sinfonietta uses the same number of players as the Meiningen Court Orchestra. As for the addition of the unpublished four-measure introduction to the first movement that was played tonight (perhaps for the first time), I will say that in my opinion it was a little too similar to an idea in Beethoven’s 7^th Symphony, and its addition did not enhance anything. In other words, I am deferring to Brahms – if someone as meticulous as he was left it out, it was with good reason. My reservations notwithstanding, Mr. Neidich is to be commended for exploring this addition in the name of scholarship and seeking new paths in the interpretation of this masterpiece.

There was plenty of power in the opening movement, but a few cracked notes and imprecise attacks in the brass did occur, and there are still some balance issues to work out, which I am sure will most likely iron themselves out as this ensemble plays together more. Of course, this venue has a very live acoustic, so that was a complication. The second movement was notable for the lush string sounds, which were enchanting; the brass, however, was still having some issues with precision of attacks. The third movement was brimming with momentum as the ensemble really “dove in“ with intensity; the percussion, though, was overpowering at times. No doubt the players were caught up in the moment. The final movement is a passacaglia in which Brahms adapted the chaconne theme in the closing movement of Johann Sebastian Bach’s cantata, Nach dir, Herr, verlanget mich, BWV 150. The main theme is eight bars long and is heard at the very start of the movement. Brahms then repeats the theme in different variations precisely thirty times, always eight bars long. It might be a cliché, but the idea of saving the best for the last was in effect here. This was the WA Sinfonietta at their finest, bringing forth the magnificence of Brahms’s conception with the brilliance it demands. The audience responded with the longest ovation I can recall. A visibly moved Mr. Neidich shook hands with nearly all the members of the Sinfonietta as the applause continued unabated. What a promising start for this ensemble! The next concert for the WA Sinfonietta is May 13, 2025, at the DiMenna Center. I look forward to following their future endeavors.

Rock Choir

Marcus Alleyne, Richard Toomer, Carey Camel, Directors

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 22, 2025

On Saturday, March 22nd, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented one of their most memorable concerts ever, bringing the world’s largest contemporary choir, called Rock Choir (www.rockchoir.com), from the United Kingdom to make its Carnegie Hall debut. To be more precise, we heard under one percent of Rock Choir, because, though over 300 members had flown in from London (filling some half a dozen risers on the Perelman Stage), the entire choir has actually around 33,000 members. Yes, that is not a typo – 33,000. Though we heard “only” around 300 choristers, with three dynamic conductors, there is a Rock Choir team in the UK of around 130 individuals (including 100 professional musicians) who lead tens of thousands from 400 communities across the country. They are more than a choir – they are a movement.

From the very first notes of their opening, Sweet Child O’ Mine (Guns N’ Roses), the chorus “had me at hello” (albeit with some minimal piped-in background music, as needed in a few selections). With their clapping on offbeats, swaying, and hearty voices, their energy was contagious. What followed was a stirring program of twenty-one pop and rock hits of all moods and styles, from 60’s and 70’s (Shake a Tail Feather, 1963, and Bridge over Troubled Waters, 1970) to the present day (This Is Me, 2017, Shallow, 2018, Green Green Grass, 2022, and Mountain, 2023). All three conductors – Marcus Alleyne, Richard Toomer, and Carey Camel – were skilled and charismatic, and their tag-teaming was swift and seamless.

The audience was invited to join in if moved to do so, because, as Mr. Toomer said, it’s “that kind of concert.” Many did join in. Especially fitting was the chorus’s exultant version of the second song, led by Carey Camel, What a Feeling (Giorgia Moroder, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher) from the movie Flashdance. The choice of this song seemed especially appropriate, in view of the movie’s famous audition scene, in which the Jennifer Beals character defies expectations in a winning performance. This chorus itself defied expectations here, for several reasons.  

One of the things that makes Rock Choir so special is its inclusivity. It was founded by Caroline Redman Lusher in 2005 on the belief that music has the power to unite communities and enhance the health and self-esteem of all who share in it. To this end, there are no auditions for Rock Choir. There is no musical experience necessary to join – not even the ability to read music. So, though this concert was expected to be a lovely event with a “feel good” mission, nothing about its background or the absence of prerequisites prepared one for the high standards we heard. The chorus was tremendous.

Over the course of the concert, the members sang in multiple parts, with impressive descants and some tricky suspensions and modulations, and they were nearly always beautifully in tune. Perhaps it is a case of the whole being greater than the sum of the parts, but if there was a weak voice or an unsure pitch, it was swept up in the power of music that expresses the full range of human emotions – grief, joy, and everything in between. Though mention was made of the benefits of being a member of Rock Choir, those benefits could be felt by their listeners as well, as one could sense audience members gradually shedding their inhibitions. Rock Choir’s joy, simply in being human, is contagious. Mr. Toomer mentioned perhaps starting such a group in New York, and he may have been joking, but yes, please.

Mr. Camel followed Flashdance with Video Killed the Radio Star of The Buggles (arr. Alex Hawker), and then I Wanna Be the Only One (Bebe Winans/ James Lawrence, arr. Josie Black), before Mr. Toomer returned to add his special touch to three songs, the Caribbean-inspired Green Green Grass (George Ezra, arr. Katherine Tye), the Whitney Houston favorite, I Wanna Dance with Somebody (George Merrill/ Shannon Rubicam, arr. Charlotte Nash), and Only You (Vince Clarke, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher). For the last one, Mr. Camel joined as piano support.

Mr. Alleyne brought the next three to life, starting with A Thousand Years (Christina Perre, arr. Josie Black), and it was enhanced by having Mr. Camel at the piano again and Mr. Toomer now adding violin (as he did elsewhere). There seemed nothing these three gentlemen could not handle together. In fact, one couldn’t help thinking that possibly with the addition of some portable percussion or a synthesizer, they could pull off an entire concert using nothing pre-recorded. It would be a great endorsement of purely live music, which needs every champion it can get right now. Mr. Alleyne then led the chorus in what was a concert highlight for this listener, Bridge Over Troubled Waters (Paul Simon, arr. Alex Hawker). Its gentle beauty was a welcome solace, and Mr. Camel handled the piano part well.

On a side note, there were a few diction surprises through the evening, and the latter song included one. Though American choruses often try to adopt British pronunciation (or as many say, the “correct” pronunciation), that choice can be startling in certain American selections, such as Bridge Over Troubled Water. As it had been made famous in the version sung by its New York composer, the British pronunciation of “water” really jumped out. No criticism is meant – it was just charming – but the chorus did capture a more regional American flavor in some other songs, such as For Once In My Life, which Stevie Wonder popularized (Ron Miller/Orlando Murden, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), and Shake a Tail Feather, sung famously by the Blues Brothers (Oath Hayes/Verlie Rice/Andre Williams, arr. Alex Hawker).

A special highlight of the program was This Is Me from The Greatest Showman (Benji Pasek /Justin Paul, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), also conducted by Mr. Alleyne. Once again, the choice was particularly appropriate for a chorus that embraces singers of all levels, ages, and backgrounds. Every member seemed to belt out the recurring line, “This is me” as if it were written expressly for them.

Other songs included She Will Be Loved (Maroon 5, arr. Katharine Tye), conducted expertly by Mr. Toomer and I Don’t Want To Miss a Thing (Diane Warren – popularized by Aerosmith), handled sensitively by Mr. Alleyne. Mr. Camel then led an appealing performance of the UK hit Somewhere Only We Know (Keane, arr. Sam Smith and Josie Black) in the Lily Allen version.  

Mr. Toomer, along with keeping delightful and educational commentary going between songs, led several more favorites, including Like a Prayer (Madonna/ Patrick Leonard) and Jolene (Dolly Parton). Though there was a group of four songs left to be conducted by Mr. Alleyne to conclude the concert, Mr. Toomer threw the choice out to the audience as to whether the fourth would be played as an encore, depending on audience response. Naturally it was. No one was in a hurry to leave, it seemed, and one side of the audience had a group of people dancing. We heard excellent renditions of Shallow from A Star is Born (Lady Gaga / Mark Ronson, arr. Charlotte Nash), the ever-popular Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), and a particularly self-affirming version of Mountain (Sam Ryder, arr. Sam Smith), in which the line “I am a mountain” refers to the overcoming of obstacles in life. There were probably very few in the chorus for whom these lyrics did not resonate – for a start, managing the thousands of miles to come here and sing – but they certainly “hit home” for this listener as well.

With loud cheers and stomping, the audience demanded the encore of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now (Freddy Mercury, arr. Caroline Redman Lusher), and it brought the house down. Thank you, Rock Choir, and please come back soon!

Ian Hobson, Pianist

Tenri Institute, New York, NY

March 21, 2025

A full house at Tenri Institute Friday enjoyed an evening of Schumann, as renowned pianist Ian Hobson played yet another installment in his cycle of Schumann’s complete piano music (which has included piano-based chamber music). The project started some five years ago just before the pandemic derailed everything, and fortunately for us there are more concerts to go. This particular concert, entitled Colorful Album Leaves, included the Bunte Blätter, Op. 99 (Colorful Leaves) on the first half, and the Albumblätter, Op. 124 (Album Leaves) after intermission, a total of 34 miniatures. Schumann had wanted to call all of these Spreu (meaning “chaff”), as they were amassed over about twenty years of being cast aside. Thankfully, Schumann was dissuaded from using that title, as chaff they are not. In addition to their individual merits, one finds in them elements that illuminate Schumann’s larger works. They are, as the noted music writer Paul Griffiths calls them in his excellent program notes for this concert, “brilliant winnowed flecks.”

Pianist Ian Hobson should need very little introduction (to anyone who has paid attention in the music world for the last four or five decades), but a few words are in order. With some 60 releases in his discography, there is very little he has not covered, from the complete sonatas of Beethoven and Schumann to the complete variations of Brahms. From delving into lesser-known masters (such as Moscheles, Hummel, and Stöhr) to championing works by composers of today (Chumbley, Lees, Gardner, Liptak Ridout, and Wyner), his range is encyclopedic. Launched internationally in 1981 with First Prize in the Leeds International Piano Competition, he is one of those special prizewinning pianists whose momentum seems to have simply grown by the year, whether in the realms of conducting, educating, or cycles of live concerts.

Having heard and reviewed Mr. Hobson several times now, this reviewer has come to think of him as a “big” pianist, the description stemming not from his physical stature (though that happens to apply) or his sound (which also applies), but from his ability to convey the big picture, painting his interpretations in broad brushstrokes, with an architect’s grasp and without fussiness or self-indulgence. Generally one might not expect such a pianist to handle well all the delicate fluctuations of these miniatures – as Schumann can be rather “needy” – but what Mr. Hobson brought to them on this occasion was a refreshing clarity, perhaps akin to his conductor’s overview. In any case, it was welcome. We could enjoy the vista of hills and valleys without getting too lost in the flurry of foliage.

From the first notes the Bunte Blätter Mr. Hobson proved to be in fine form. The first piece in this set had been Schumann’s Christmas message to his wife Clara in 1838, and one could hear the sentiment in the pianist’s warmth of tone and phrasing. No. 2 flew by with Schumann’s characteristic restlessness, and No. 3 found Schumann’s famous alter-ego Florestan presiding. In the melancholy 4th piece (which became the subject for sets of variations by both Clara Schumann in her Op. 20 and Brahms in his Op. 9), we heard from another of Schumann’s alter-egos, Eusebius, and here Mr. Hobson’s control of voices was exceptional. On the subject of control, the little finger of his right hand proved capable throughout the concert of a more penetrating sound than many a flute or violin section. When he chose to highlight an important line, it was with the sonic equivalent of a Sharpie.

In the third and fifth pieces of the Op. 99, plus a few others, the high speed led to the occasional smudge, but this reviewer decided to tune out such imperfections, as there was so much music to absorb. On that topic, a half-century of experience warrants a certain reverence, and “teachable moments” abounded. As an example, there were times when this musician thought, “Oh, there could have been more made of that phrase” – but after two iterations or further development, the “more” would come, and magically so, thanks to not giving in to immediacy.

Favorites included the Sehr langsam (No. 7), in which the suspensions were heart-rending. The Praeludium (No. 10) was also memorable for its stormy drive. Ones that were harder to embrace included the Marsch (No. 11) – with the trio section’s incessant repeated chords emerging as a bit overbearing in this hall – and the Abendmusik (No. 12), which was simply hard to follow. These are not the friendliest of Schumann’s strays, but Mr. Hobson did give them a good home for the evening. He also brought to life the Scherzo (No. 13) and the quirkily humorous Geschwindmarsch.

After intermission, Mr. Hobson emerged with the score to the twenty pieces of Op. 124 (Albumblätter), but only, as he quipped to the audience, to check “which order” they’re in. Indeed, the music sat by the side of the rack, ignored until a quick check for sequence around the twelfth piece.

Highlights of this set included the Walzer (No. 4), which had a welcome liberty about it, and the winsome Wiegenliedchen, though it had more momentum than what one might expect from a lullaby. A less familiar one to this listener, the Burla (No. 12), was delightfully robust, and the next Walzer (No. 15) was beautifully ethereal. The final piece, Canon (No. 20), closed the concert with a hallowed feeling. One already looks forward to the continuation of the cycle on April 25, with a concert entitled Love and Nature III. Looking further down the road, Schumann and Hobson fans can save September 26, 2025 as well.

Chloe Chuyue Zhang, piano

Orpheus Classical, 2022

Fans of piano music, particularly Russian piano music, have a new collection to enjoy, the solo debut album of pianist Chloe Chuyue Zhang, released by Orpheus Classical. Listed at some sites as released in 2022, it was recently made available through multiple music platforms (Spotify, Apple Music, and more) and so is listed in some places as a 2025 release. Whichever the date may be, it is definitely worth a listen. It includes Prokofiev’s Seventh Piano Sonata, Op. 83, Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Op. 42, and Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, Op. 37a.

It is not easy in this age to release something “new” from these three composers. There are countless excellent pianists  who have played and recorded Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata and many who have played the Rachmaninoff Corelli Variations (actually based on a theme called La Folia once attributed to Corelli). For just the Prokofiev, the options are great, including Sviatoslav Richter, Vladimir Horowitz, and a virtual pantheon of greats. A search for those who have recorded the Prokofiev and Rachmaninoff yields another formidable list including Mikhail Pletnev, Vladimir Ashkenazy, Valentina Lisitsa, and too many others to name, though in most cases one would need to buy two separate recordings;  a striking feature of Chloe Zhang’s release, however, is the juxtaposition of both of these giants along with Tchaikovsky’s set of twelve miniatures, The Seasons. Although there is also a large catalogue of recordings of the Tchaikovsky set, this reviewer has never encountered the set alongside these two monuments.

It is a fascinating listening experience to hear all three in a row, in reverse chronological order as they are offered here. It is like experiencing a war ending with a cataclysmic battle (not a stretch, with the Prokofiev being one of the three “War Sonatas” from 1942), then collapsing into tearful and cathartic reverie about it all (Rachmaninoff’s Op. 42 dating from 1931, with shadows of war and loss never far) – and, to recover, spending months looking out a window, watching the world go by at a safe distance (from the rural Russia of Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, 1875). To play all three requires a pianist of excellent technique and a wide range of expressivity, and Chloe Chuyue Zhang has both.

Dr. Zhang, who hails from Shenzhen, China, has achieved quite a few distinctions in music, including numerous concerts and broadcasts in the US, China, and Europe, and several prizes, notably First Prize in the Bradshaw and Buono International Piano Competition. Her studies include an MM degree from The Juilliard School with Jerome Lowenthal and a DMA degree from the Eastman School of Music, with Natalya Antonova. In addition, she has worked  with Robert Levin, Joseph Kalichstein, Alexander Kobrin, Alexander Korsantia, Matti Raekallio, Boris Slutsky, and Martin Canin.

Dr. Zhang’s recording starts off with a strong account of Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata. She clearly has all the “nuts and bolts” well in hand, and she gives a performance of great clarity and detail. She shifts easily from sharp attacks to muted colors, from rapid repeated notes to stomping bass chords – the whole range. She does tend, overall, to favor staccato articulations where not notated, such as in the opening, but there are naturally varying interpretations possible here. One of my favorites is a performance by Horowitz (Carnegie Hall 1951), who by contrast has a rather slithery legato to start, setting a sinister tone for the movement. Richter’s is more detached – and many have considered him the last word, as Prokofiev entrusted the premiere to him. At any rate, Dr. Zhang’s clean detached approach works well and is intensified by the recording quality, which is exceptionally clear as well.

The second movement begins movingly, with warmth of sound, as marked, caloroso, and its dramatic arch is also built skillfully. One was a bit perplexed by the delivery of some triplets in the poco agitato section (as they seem to resemble a different rhythm), but then again, rhythmic interpretations are not always literal, and without multiple conceptions we wouldn’t need multiple recordings. The overall effect is persuasive.

Dr. Zhang also handles the infamous last movement with dispatch. There seems to be no challenge in it that she cannot handle with ease – and one’s only reservation relates to the fact that it seems almost too easy. It is quite exciting, without question, but this listener wants even more ferocious, unbroken energy (even when in lower dynamic levels). Naturally this is easier to transmit in live performance. In a recording studio, the focusing on details (marking phrase ends, tapering of motives after accents, etc.) can detract a bit from the inexorable drive of the piece. At any rate, she gives the piece an impressive powerhouse finish.

Few works could be more welcome after the Prokofiev than Rachmaninoff’s Op. 42, and this pianist gives the haunting opening theme just the right transparency of tone. Though your reviewer prefers a more gentle, gradual unfolding afterwards in the first variation – and more leggiero feel in the second – it is, all in all, beautifully done. Dr. Zhang in her program notes points out that the Op. 42 is unlike Rachmaninoff’s “more overtly virtuosic” compositions in its nuance and intimacy. That is true, though it has some deceptively difficult technical challenges. She is on top of nearly all of them – from the registral shifts in Variation V to the rather awkward leaps in Variation XX, which are exemplary in her hands. Only in Variation X, with a slight slowing of the parallels, does she betray any hints of strain, but she re-establishes her command with force in Variation XI.  Especially captivating are the harmonic twists and turns in Variation VIII and quixotic changes in Variation XII. To this reviewer, there could be more care in the shaping of phrases in the meltingly beautiful Variation XV – as well as a bit more freedom in the Intermezzo – but overall, the great beauty of this masterpiece comes through.

After the blistering brilliance of the Prokofiev and heart-rending pianism of the Rachmaninoff, the Tchaikovsky character pieces seem almost like playthings, but they are admirable in their own right. They were commissioned in 1875 by Nikolay Matveyevich Bernard, editor of Nouvellist magazine, to be released one per month to the readership, with each piece representing a month of the year (and subtitled by Bernard). If they strike one as salonish, it is because they hearken back to the days when there were pianos in so many homes that a player of moderate ability might have played them (hence amplifying Tchaikovsky’s income). They are worlds away from the Tchaikovsky most of us know for his symphonies and concerti – but several of them, treated as singular gems, have attracted programming by virtuosi – including by Rachmaninoff himself.

To perform the whole set requires special patience, and where Dr. Zhang stands out is that she does not overdo anything. Though these pieces have been used by teachers to cultivate expressiveness in young pianists (resulting sometimes in miniature dramas), Zhang’s playing is notable for its simplicity and restraint. This quality is particularly appropriate in pieces such as January (“By the Hearth”) where, upon repetition of the same phrase – largely the same way – one can envision the recurrence of almost workaday winter pastimes.

February (“Carnival”) is festive in her hands, with ringing clarity, and her March (“Song of the Lark”) follows with melancholy. In April (“Snowdrop”) there is a sparkling, balletic quality, reminding one that Tchaikovsky was just finishing Swan Lake as he composed this – and her stretching at the end is graceful and lovely. May (“Starlit Nights”) conveys both brooding to reveling.

The June movement (“Barcarolle”) is one of the more popular ones in which it is hard to “unhear” the magic of a century of artists who have played it, but Dr. Zhang captures much of its beauty. Perhaps the melody could transcend the meter more at times, but again, this is personal.  The pastoral calm and eventually more bustling feeling of July (“Song of the Reaper”) take us to an August (“Harvest Song”) of frenetic, Schumannesque energy, contrasting with its gentler, more intimate middle section. Shades of Mendelssohn color the prancing September movement (“Hunter’s Song”) and the perennial favorite, October (“Autumn Song”),  exudes special tenderness. The set concludes well with the pianist enjoying the ride of November (“Troika”) and the lilting waltz of December (“Christmas”).

Classical musicians will undoubtedly choose their own favorites to listen to from the entire collection, but it is also worthwhile to hear everything in a row and experience it as a recital. Kudos to Dr. Zhang!

Ivan Gusev, Piano

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 15, 2025

It was an intimate affair at the Tenri Cultural Institute this evening where a small group gathered to hear pianist Ivan Gusev perform a varied program for The Leschetizky Birthday Recital, a yearly event that celebrates the renowned pedagogue Theodor Leschetizky (1830-1915). With a direct line to Beethoven, Leschetizky taught a great number of pianists in the late 1800s, including Ignacy Jan Paderewski (1860-1941) and Artur Schnabel (1882-1951), just to name two. As the president of the association Zelma Bodzin pointed out, one would be hard-pressed to encounter a professional pianist active today that doesn’t inherit at least one of the lineages of piano pedagogy, Leschetizky’s being one of them.

Mr. Gusev’s program was inventive and adventurous – it began with his own transcription of a Fantasia for Keyboard in D (FVB 124) by Thomas Morley (1557-1602), an English composer of the late Renaissance whose compositions were primarily for the virginal, a keyboard instrument in the harpsichord family of that time. The transcription stayed true to the tone of the original work. The sound was crisp and vibrant, and Mr. Gusev’s improvisational approach was expressive yet tastefully restrained. This balance created a compelling and refreshing start to the evening.

A standard piano recital moves chronologically through the eras, and although this reviewer’s taste is to let go of these traditions that can feel restrictive, the arc of this program was thoughtful enough that the following classical sonata was  organic to the program –  the Sonata in E Minor, Hob. XVI:34 by Franz Josef Haydn (1732-1809). Mr. Gusev launched into the Presto with both vigor and elegance, demonstrating meticulous attention to detail. However, the sense of spontaneity was somewhat lost, as the abrupt rests with fermatas felt overly deliberate. A more natural and unexpected approach to these pauses could have enhanced their impact. The last three octaves could have also benefited from a similar approach. The second movement, Adagio, was performed with fantasy calling back the rhythmic freedom of the Morley work. The last movement, Vivace molto, began at a good clip and with a light and airy touch. A bit more differentiation within the variations of the melodies could have benefited this movement as well as a healthier, more grounded pulse in the E major section. Additionally, a more decisive conclusion would have better served the drama of the work—Mr. Gusev’s tendency to sustain the pedal after lifting his hands occasionally softened the impact of the final moments of the sonata.

Seven Christmas Miniatures (2025) by Siberian composer (and colleague of Mr. Gusev) Roman Khozeev was next. This was a world premiere as the work had just been finished in January of this year. These seven miniatures took us to a variety of sound worlds in which Mr. Gusev was fully immersed. We were taken from a nostalgic folk song to a world with sparseness and openness with the first two movements. The third, a more contemporary and easy-going movement was followed by a playful and innocent scene. The endings of each of these vignettes were sudden but always in character and Mr. Gusev never broke from it until the very last moment. The last movement in particular was full of motion of a delicious dissonances in which Mr. Gusev reveled. The arresting ending was a great finale to the set. One looks forward to hearing more from this interesting composer.

To contrast but also compliment the new work was a warhorse by Sergey Prokofiev (1891-1953), the Toccata, Op. 11. This early work of Prokofiev is known for fiendish difficulty in its motoric sections, especially with the repeated notes, and his use of the grotesque and sarcastic characters is present in full force. Mr. Gusev approached it with precision and control; however, the opening repeated Ds could have carried more momentum to fully establish the exhilarating journey ahead. To heighten the work’s intensity, a performance infused with greater propulsion, fluidity, and dynamic energy would have been more effective—while meticulously executed, this interpretation lacked the visceral impact that gives the piece its driving force.

As part of today’s birthday celebration, Mr. Gusev presented three delightful works by Leschetizky following intermission. A prolific composer as well as a renowned pedagogue, Leschetizky exemplifies the expressive depth and elegance of the Old-World Romantic tradition. These Three Meditations, selected from his Six Meditations, Op. 19, serve as a testament to the lyrical and refined style in which he both composed and taught. Mr. Gusev delivered each piece with a commitment to its distinctive character, capturing their charm and lighthearted spirit. It was refreshing to hear works from this era that remain relatively unexplored in performance.

The popular Arabesque, Op. 18 by Robert Schumann (1810-1856) followed continuing the Romantic-era sound world. The playing was spontaneous with excellent and refined phrasing. This performance was imbued with moments of consolation which were heart-wrenchingly beautiful. The in-between sections, which can be a challenge to some performers were expertly handled, creating seamless and unified transitions.

To end the program, Mr. Gusev chose a large-scale work by Schumann, the Fantasie in C, Op. 17. It is in a work of this magnitude that one can really get to know a musician’s mind at work, and it was apparent in tonight’s performance. Mr. Gusev is an intelligent and unhurried performer. The first movement, which can very often be misinterpreted as one of virtuosic display was rendered with the necessary sweep but with intense care to communicate each nuance. Mr. Gusev was able to sculpt each passage where we were able to hear thematic connections while keeping the overarching construction in mind. The intimate ending of the first movement was particularly special.

The second movement, Mäßig. Durchaus energisch, began in a grand manner and the chords communicated an extravagant sound. The B-section was played with a beautifully intoned sound which highlighted the melodic lines against the dotted rhythms. The notoriously challenging leaps in this movement presented some difficulties for Mr. Gusev, resulting in occasional memory lapses and slight imprecisions, but these minor inaccuracies didn’t take away from the grandeur of the movement. The final movement, the heart of the work, resonated like a meditation, with its seamless texture of broken chords and a lyrical, singing melody –  was beautifully done by Mr. Gusev.

The appreciative audience clapped for Mr. Gusev to come back to the stage for an encore and, fittingly, he served us with Träumerei by Schumann. It was intimate and tender. Another round of applause begged for his return and Chopin’s Etude in F minor, Op. 25 No. 2, closed the concert with a buzzing virtuosity.

Distinguished Concert Singers International

Kenney Potter, Guest Conductor 

Irene Messoloras, Guest Conductor 

Kyle Pederson, DCINY Composer-In-Residence & Piano

Shanelle Gabriel, Spoken Word Artist

The Bethel Choir from Bethel University (MN), Merrin Guice Gill, Director

Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra (CA), Elliott Bark, Director,

Hyungbin Jung, Guest Conductor

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 16, 2025

In one of their trademark extravaganzas this weekend, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented a concert including both choral and orchestral works and entitled “A Vision of Light.” Included were two premieres, the world premiere of Elliot Bark’s Mercy for violin, cello, piano, and orchestra, with the Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra, and the Carnegie Hall premiere of A Vision Unfolding, a choral work by Kyle Pederson, with the combined choruses of the Distinguished Concerts Singers International. Along with these two premieres were various other selections, including some additional orchestral works, three contrasting songs from the Bethel Choir of Minnesota, and the always transcendent choral music of Ola Gjeilo and Morten Lauridsen to conclude. Apart from the special 3-song segment by the Bethel Choir, the chorus for the afternoon was the Distinguished Concert Singers International including hundreds of singers (from the Barrington United Methodist Church Chancel Choir (IL), Bethel Choir, the Longmont Chorale, the UCI Choir, Mynderse Academy Varsity Chorus, the Irmo High School Chorus, the Peninsula Community Chorus, Spirit Song Choir, Angeles Chorale, the Crean Lutheran High School Chamber Choir & Saints Singers, and the Gloria Deo Academy Choir).

Aside from running too long for most listeners – at over two hours and thirty-five minutes – the concert was, as usual for DCINY, full of uplifting messages, this time centering on the word “light” as inspiration. The presentation of young but serious ensembles is part of the “secret sauce” of DCINY, and, as the Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra played their portion of the program, one could feel increasing hope for this upcoming generation. They dove into Arturo Márquez’s Danzón No. 2 with precision and didn’t let up on focus for an instant. The guest conductor for this opening was Hyungbin Jung, and he led the orchestra with gusto in a dance of distinctive claves dance rhythms. It seemed that the entire orchestra might just start dancing – and perhaps the audience too.

The premiere of Elliot Bark’s Mercy followed under the baton of the composer, with violinist Andrew Kwon, cellist Janet Park, and pianist Esther Lee as the excellent soloists. The pianist opened with a slow, funereal repetition of middle D which became the start point for implied harmonies and plaintive strains as the violin, cello, and then orchestra joined in a musical “prayer” of sorts. All built quickly to an enormous climax and orchestral tutti, before eventually receding to end with that same lonesome middle D on the piano, now as part of a B-flat major harmony, transformed. If this piece was composed with the goal of exploiting the forces at hand, it did just that, with full strings, winds, brass, percussion and a piano glissando at its peak. What good fortune it is for this fine student orchestra to have this composer at the helm! They concluded their segment of the program with four movements from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition in the Ravel orchestration – the Promenade, The Gnome, The Hut on Hen’s Legs (Baba Yaga), and The Great Gate of Kiev – all showing the players to great advantage.

After intermission the music was all choral, starting with three selections from the Bethel Choir of Minnesota. Conductor Merrin Guice Gill led them expertly, first through an Alleluia by Elaine Hagenberg (b. 1979). I reviewed a work by this composer last year, citing her gift of pulling at one’s heartstrings – and the same gift graced her Alleluia. Dr. Gill led the singers in drawing out the beauty of each line and harmony. Next came (reversing the printed program order) “Yver, vous n’este qu’un villain” from Trois Chansons – Claude Debussy’s setting of a saucy medieval chastisement of winter, delivered with exactitude in its imitative voices. The set concluded with Hold Fast to Dreams by Roland Carter (b. 1942), an impassioned outpouring with its roots in spirituals. It closed the set powerfully, with good support from Emily Urban at the piano and a very powerful soprano soloist who somehow did not take a separate bow at the end but perhaps ought to have.

Following the Bethel Choir was the premiere of A Vision Unfolding by Kyle Pederson, which dominated the second half. As the program notes tell us, Mr. Pederson was commissioned in 2021 to create a work centering on themes of social justice. He wanted a perspective on this subject beyond his own, so he reached out to poet/songwriter/spoken word artist Shanelle Gabriel for collaboration. The resulting work consists of five movements, set to stirring texts by Robert Bode, Walt Whitman, and Langston Hughes, as well as two by Mr. Pederson and Ms. Gabriel themselves. In addition, Ms. Gabriel was onstage throughout the performance introducing each of the five movements with her own heartfelt spoken word recitations. The music itself was composed in a highly accessible tonal language, with a sweetness that was skillfully broken by movements of more determination. Highlights included the first movement “Reach Down, Lord” in which the word “reach” was repeated to percussive effect, as well as the rhythmic piano part in “Beat! Drums!” (played the composer himself, Mr. Pederson). Guest instrumentalists were violinist Emanouil Manolov and – particularly important in the drive of “Beat! Drums!” – trumpeter Christopher Bubolz with snare drummer Charles Kiger. The spoken word as recited by the chorus, when not singing, was also striking and was beautifully held together by conductor Kenney Potter. Though this large work has already had performances, this was its Carnegie Hall premiere, and one can imagine it growing quite popular among the many choruses across the country, especially if movements can be excerpted.

This reviewer’s chief reservation about the program pertained to length. With two of my favorite works yet to come, Ubi Caritas by Ola Gjeilo and Lux Aeterna by Morten Lauridsen, I was already too maxed out to truly experience them as the beauties they are – though beautifully performed as expected, with Irene Messoloras conducting and Philip Hoch at the organ. Lest I be put out to pasture for what may seem a matter of stamina, there were teenagers seated behind me snoring from fatigue. Music is a joy to share, but timing is everything, as the art itself exists in time. The readiness of listeners must not be taken for granted, no matter how manageable the selections may seem to those planning them in the abstract (along with prolonged entries and exits). As this reviewer has commented before, one can move from painting to painting in a museum or from offering to offering at a feast without partaking to excess in either case; with music, however, the only recourse when faced with excess is to leave during a concert, something considered rude by many and an impossibility for a reviewer.

With more sensitivity in their programming, DCINY will undoubtedly continue to fill their important role bringing throngs together in love of music.

Justin Bischof, conductor and artistic director

Alexandre Moutouzkine, pianist

Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Music Center New York, NY

March 12, 2025

The Modus Operandi Orchestra (MOO) outdid itself this week (and that says a lot) in a tremendous all-Beethoven concert at Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Music Center, billing their program as “The Three Bs – Beethoven, Beethoven, and Beethoven” (riffing, of course, on the musical reference to “the three Bs” as Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms). The “three” part referred to the three works, in this case the Coriolan Overture Op. 62, the Piano Concerto No. 5 (“Emperor”), Op. 73, and the Symphony No. 7, Op. 92 – all masterpieces in their respective forms.

With David Geffen Hall, Alice Tully Hall, and other famous venues just a few blocks away – along with conservatory orchestras and concerts galore – it was heartening to see that Merkin Hall was packed with people so excited to hear a program of (presumably) familiar classics. A cheering crowd seemed to know they were in for a memorable night – and they were (including, we were told, thirty-two veterans and friends from the Manhattan School of Music and the Emet Classical Academy). The soloist for the Beethoven Concerto No. 5 would be brilliant Russian-American pianist Alexandre Moutouzkine, who has played with over sixty orchestras across the globe and garnered innumerable accolades (including from New York Concert Review), and the conductor would be, as ever for this orchestra, Justin Bischof, who is also artistic director for MOO (plus organist, fund-raiser, educator, and wearer of countless other hats). The orchestra would be, as it has proven repeatedly to be, a superb combination of some of the top-notch pros in the area, including concertmaster Eiko Kano (who is also the concertmaster for the Pegasus Orchestra and plays for various prominent orchestras in New York) and on this occasion thirty-three other instrumentalists. The Modus Operandi Orchestra may not rack up the hours of rehearsal that other full-time orchestras do, but – to play with another saying – sometimes the best things in life are freelance. There was often an edge-of-seat intensity to their playing that one sometimes misses in full-time orchestras.

Some may assume that there would have to be some trade-off between intensity and polish, but any such idea was dispelled right from the perilous opening chords of the overture. They were as close to perfection in timing of attacks and cutoffs as one could hope to hear. Those enjoying Maestro Bischof’s easygoing manner as raconteur might also not be braced for the ferocity of his musicianship, but after a succinct account of the story behind the Coriolan Overture, he wrung every bit of musical drama from its dualities, from the warring timpani to the imploring violins and every undercurrent along the way.

Incidentally, this reviewer had heard the Modus Operandi Orchestra play a portion of this program two years ago at St. Mary’s Church (Long Island City), where (as part of a Vienna-themed program) they paired the Coriolan Overture and 7th Symphony with a Mozart motet, aria, and symphony (the “Haffner” K. 385). The heft was definitely increased by the addition of the “Emperor” Concerto to the other Beethoven – and though it is generally agreed upon that the name “Emperor” did not come from Beethoven (nor have any relationship to the work) the name is considered by some to have stemmed from its immediate standing as a crowning achievement – or “Emperor”-  among piano concerti. It requires a pianist of consummate abilities, and the choice of Alexandre Moutouzkine, with his impressive array of credentials, was not surprising.

Mr. Moutouzkine showed many of the qualities which undoubtedly contributed to his being chosen as major prizewinner and laureate in many important competitions (Arthur Rubinstein, Montreal, and many more). He is, first of all, reliable to the point of nearly note-perfect performances. On top of that, he is a sensitive collaborator. One of the highest virtues, in this reviewer’s opinion, is the ability to play a concerto as chamber music, and Mr. Moutouzkine does just that. Far beyond merely listening to the orchestra intently at crucial junctures, he appears to be living the music each moment, whether he is playing or not. (If this seems like an obvious sine qua non, this reviewer has heard many soloists without that habit – including one famous violinist who would tweak her shoes with her bow during orchestral sections, inviting speculation about just how much gum she might be removing). There was no question at this concert that the piano and orchestra were united throughout. Still more remarkable, Mr. Moutouzkine showed the ability to adjust by a nanosecond even in the middle of complex passages to facilitate imminent meeting points. His intelligence and mastery were always clear.

Quibbles are inevitable, when a reviewer has a lifetime of adoring a piece, but there were very few. One wish was for just a bit more breathing room in the espressivo moments and for the longer notes of the opening cadenzas. There was also – perhaps due to the piano itself – a tendency for forte and fortissimo sounds to verge on harshness, intensified by the necessary placement of the instrument so close to the edge of the stage in this small hall (such that the piano sound for seats near the front was overwhelming). The extremes of loudness were most conspicuous in the longest string of octaves in the first movement – as well as some of the almost Czerny-esque left-hand finger-work – but because Beethoven’s works are organic wholes, the already wide dynamic range became hard to process. Some pianissimo sections were also so extreme (perhaps from an abundance of caution with the resonance), that they felt by contrast as if they had come from a different planet from the fortes, rather than sharing the same musical “DNA” as the rest of the piece.

Whatever ideals there may be for such music, all in all Mr. Moutouzkine’s performance was outstanding, full of emotion and brilliance that had the audience unable to contain its applause even after just the first movement. The meltingly beautiful second movement had all the tender care it invites, and the rousing finale was victorious.

After intermission, the MOO celebrated Beethoven with the Seventh Symphony, one of Beethoven’s most beloved works and one that even Beethoven himself considered one of his finest. As Maestro Bischof shared, it is a work which even in its premiere elicited an encore of the second movement – then quipping, “we’re not going to do that.”

The orchestra’s performance of this work seemed to have grown even stronger since their 2023

Vienna-themed concert. This reviewer had singled out special contributions then (e.g., the flutes and horns), but that would be hard to do at this concert, as the entire orchestra truly shone. Having been seated right below the cellists, bassists, and timpanist, one could not help admiring them in particular throughout the concert – but all players gave their all. Maestro Bischof’s sensitive approach to the profound Allegretto brought back the tragic spirit that had opened the program with the Coriolan, and he led us through Beethoven’s miraculous transformations. The ensuing Presto was infectiously jubilant, and the Finale was a triumph. Both seemed to emanate from much larger forces than were present.

In summary, the evening was a tremendous tribute to Beethoven. In lieu of an encore, one could only leave with the music in one’s mind, thinking how fortunate the world is to have had Beethoven – and how fortunate New Yorkers are to have the Modus Operandi Orchestra and their illustrious guest artists.

Thomas Nickell, pianist

Tenri Cultural Institute,  New York, NY

March 14, 2025

A capacity crowd gathered to hear composer and pianist Thomas Nickell at the Tenri Cultural Institute this week and enjoyed an evening of the music of Frédéric Chopin that in some ways hearkened back to salon recitals of yore – from the intimacy of the venue (and free-flowing wine) to the family friendliness of the audience. The program included several of Chopin’s most beloved masterpieces, plus some shorter selections. Starting with the Fantasy Op. 49, Mr. Nickell followed with the last six preludes from Op. 28, and then the Berceuse, Op. 57, and the Barcarolle, Op. 60, before intermission. The second half opened with the Four Mazurkas, Op. 24, followed by the first three Scherzi. It was curated nicely for dramatic trajectories and contrasts, taking the audience on a journey that was never dull.

A reviewer hears many highly polished conservatory players who quite often resemble so many cookies from the same batch. There may not be much of a sense of programming sometimes (or awareness of the audience’s “journey”) – and not always a great sense of individual spirit either – but the elements of the score, certainly the notes, tend to all be there from hours of thorough practice. This concert was almost the reverse. There was indeed spirit in each moment – and ideas galore – but sometimes there was just a bit too much “riding roughshod” over the music for a true devotee of Chopin to enjoy. To restate a criticism made in another review from 2023, Mr. Nickell left “a few too many details obscured or glossed over … and one hesitates even to use such a potentially dismissive term as ‘detail’ in discussing the finely wrought creations of Chopin.” It is easy to chalk up a “big picture” tendency to the fact that a performer is also a composer, but more on that later.

The Fantaisie in F minor, Op. 49, was one of the strongest offerings, though there was some sketchiness in the fingerwork surprisingly early on and a few rhythmic anomalies in the B-major section (no, not rubato – as one can tell the difference). What was great was the emotional narrative of the piece – always strongly projected. Mr. Nickell transmitted to the audience what must be his own love of the work, and he did it with warmth of tone and a personal feeling for highlights – as a tour guide might take a visitor to his favorite spots. It underscored for this reviewer how much Mr. Nickell has grown as a pianist and musician in recent years.

The six selections from Op. 28 were less compelling. Prelude No. 19 in E-flat major, understandably a difficult one, needed more accuracy, delicacy, and attention to polish. No. 21 in B-flat major found the left hand obscuring the right. No. 22 in G minor got swept away with emotion – not a bad thing in itself, but it resulted in some mishaps, notably the crucial low C-sharp octave near the end. No. 24 in D minor was quite dramatic – as it needs to be – but needed more attention to the descending thirds. Pianists routinely impale themselves on these, but this reviewer believes that such hurdles can be overcome with lots of careful work, if the piece as a whole means enough to the player. The final three notes were earthshaking – as they should be.

It was particularly beautiful to hear, after such storming, the Berceuse (Lullaby), Op. 57. When this reviewer mentioned earlier the care taken in curating a program, this choice was one of the examples. The juxtaposition was potent. There are always quibbles, however, and there were some here. As anyone who has played this work knows, the left hand repeats its steady rocking pattern nearly exactly throughout the piece, but with sometimes an E-flat and sometimes a C on the fourth eighth of each measure – and it actually matters, because of what is in the right hand. Without the correct notes, doubled C’s or E-flats arise, among other issues. Cringes ensue, the baby awakens, and war breaks out. Well, perhaps that is an exaggeration, but the point stands. If it is worth playing at all, it is worth fine-tuning – and that includes mastery of the later filigree as well, which needed neatening (perhaps with more hand-rotation). Great pianists have famously agonized over accuracy in recording this work – long before the days of splicing and high-tech fixes – and though a live performance is not the same as a recording, it should matter no less.

The Barcarolle closed the first half with another strong performance. Its magnificence was in full sail, and undoubtedly those in the audience who may never have heard the piece before will now feel the pull towards more Chopin. They gave a rousing ovation before the break. Bravo!

After intermission we heard the Four Mazurkas, Op. 24. Considering how many mazurkas Chopin composed, it is a shame that we don’t hear them in live programs more often, so it was a joy that Mr. Nickell programmed these. He brought out much of the originality and “newness” of them, whether through the crispness of the Lydian-flavored No. 2, the chromaticism of No. 3 (which, with overholding of thirty-second notes, sounded like blocked sevenths), and the robust rhythms and metric surprises in all four. They were a joy.

Some of Mr. Nickell’s liberties seemed gratuitous even in these dances (such as the turning of some quarter-note upbeats into eighths at will in No. 3), and though we are no longer in this reviewer’s dinosaur-age school days where such playing would have elicited screeds (“if Chopin had wanted a quarter note, he knew how to write one”), the score is always the starting point. We often hear about the spirit of the law in opposition to the letter of the law in music – but why not have both?

The program concluded with much fire via the first three of the Scherzi, but again sometimes speed took the place of what constitutes true brilliance (generally including the presence of all notes, articulations, and markings, regardless of speed). No. 1 in B minor found excessive haste leading to blurs, omissions, and messiness, including in the big chromatic run at the end, and there were similar results in Nos. 2 and 3. Though there was a certain excitement always, the music devolved at times into mere washes and gestures. Let there be no mistake, we need those gestures, but if everything becomes a glossing-over or gesture, the performance starts to sound like a summary, as if the performer is showing us something approximating “how it would go” if we played it. Listeners may get “the gist” of it, but we generally want more than the gist at a concert. A lecture-demonstration may be different, and one has a hunch that Mr. Nickell may have some of those in his future.

As your reviewer here has written before, Mr. Nickell is a promising young composer as well as pianist. This warrants mention, in reference to a point made earlier. Composers are often cited for performing with less than full attention to detail, perhaps due to their own imaginations’ tendency to grasp what they consider the essence of a piece immediately (and likewise, their desire to transmit it immediately). There also may be issues of time demands, as a composer needing to copy fifteen-part scores may simply not have time to practice scales and passagework. In any case, when we consider what effort Chopin took to write each note and marking (naturally long before the advent of music software), with dozens of carefully chosen pitches and note values constituting each “wash” or gesture, and all organically part of the whole work, we generally feel an awe that compels us to devote no less effort in relaying it – as servants in a way. One would imagine that a composer, perhaps even more than other musicians, might agree out of sheer compassion.

At any rate, when some time is invested in more of the nuts and bolts, there will be yet another reason to hear Mr. Nickell. There are already many.

Carrie Koffman, saxophone

Charles Neidich, clarinet

Ayako Oshima, clarinet

Mohamed Shams, piano

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 9, 2025

There was an electric energy in the room before this afternoon’s concert at the Tenri Cultural Institute. I presume it was the anticipation of the return of the Wa Concert Series after a hiatus. As stated by Charles Neidich in his charming opening speech, they had a return last year, and today’s event is a taste of what is in store for this intrepid organization. At first glance, the programming seemed a bit scattered, but as the concert went on, more connections began to emerge, and this reviewer was fascinated by the thoughtful curation of the afternoon’s music.

The first piece on the program was Sarabande et thème varié for clarinet and piano (1903) by Reynaldo Hahn (1874-1947). Hahn, a Venezuelan-born composer, moved to Paris as a child and inherited the French tradition. This work, with nods to the Baroque era, couldn’t be more steeped in the French simplicity of the time, a reaction to the late romanticism of Wagner and the Impressionism of Ravel and Debussy. His most well-known works are songs, and this work is replete with beautiful melodies throughout. The clarinetist Ayako Oshima enchanted the audience with a seductive tone. The triumphant ending was full of joy and was met with a roaring applause from the audience. It was a beautiful start to the concert.

A contrasting work by Elinor Armer (b. 1939) followed called Double Sonnet for Two Clarinets (2003) performed by Mr. Neidich and Ms. Oshima. The duo delivered a confident and compelling interpretation of this dynamic piece, skillfully highlighting its intricate, sinuous lines with flair. Their decisive articulation enhanced textural clarity, resulting in a vibrant and immersive sonic experience. The button to end the work was particularly delightful. Line Drawings by Richard Wilson (b. 1941) is in four movements. Each of these brief movements encapsulated a distinct, self-contained world. The first communicated serenity; the second a pointillistic approach; the third an earthiness, and the fourth was spacious and lean. It was a great compliment to the Armer piece.

The final piece on the first half was the Clarinet Sonata by Aaron Copland (1900-1990). This clarinet and piano work immediately captivated the audience, drawing them in from the very first chords. Mr. Shams delivered these chords with a nuanced understanding of the style’s tonal demands. The opening evoked a unique blend of solitude and happiness—an emotional duality that perhaps only Copland could achieve. The complex rhythms of the first movement were handled expertly by both duo members of which the climax was particularly exciting. This made the heart-wrenching end to the first movement particularly beautiful. Another duality emerged in the second movement—the contrast between warm and cold sonorities. This poignant movement had an understated intimacy and clarity, and when themes from the first movement reappeared, they were cast in an entirely new light. The last movement provided a much-needed relief from heavy feelings. The crisp articulations from Mr. Neidich were not only impressive to hear but also full of joy and elation. The unexpected rhythms seemed to jump off the page communicating the mixed meters and an additive approach as well as a sound inspired by American folk. This energetic movement was a great choice to unify the works of the first half of the program.

After a brief, intermission, the audience was hungry for more – and they were in for a treat. A set of works for chamber and solo saxophone commenced. hush for solo Alto Saxophone (2018) by Gilda Lyons (b. 1975) was the most adventurous piece on today’s recital. In the words of the composer: “ [hush] is fueled by the need to explore, unpack, and reexamine the ways a women’s voice can be informed by received gendered language over the course of a lifetime. Reflecting on my own experience, I honed-in on specific phrases that evolved in meaning for me and set them as spoken words within the context of contrasting musical lines…while exploring percussive, often breath-driven sounds that point to, among other things, pulse and heartbeat, and that contrast the recurring, sustained shush gesture that evolves over the course of the piece.” And what an effective performance this was. From the very first “shhhh” the saxophonist Carrie Koffman arrested the audience’s attention. As the piece developed, the intention of the composer was clear without being too obvious or patronizing and the seemingly humorous spoken words became more meaningful, leaving the listener in thought.

The next work by Ellen Taaffe Zwilich (b. 1939) was Remembrance (Lullaby and Lament) (2024) for alto saxophone and piano. Ms. Koffman spoke about how the composer, a fellow adoptee, wrote this piece to spark awareness of the many hurdles adopted individuals have attaining their original birth certificates. The work had a jazzy undertone and even quoted the famous Brahms’ Lullaby, and, if this reviewer is not mistaken, also the Schubert Ständchen towards the end.

Gabriela Ortiz (b. 1964), the celebrated Mexican composer, was next on the program with a work she wrote for the musicians in today’s program. Carrie Koffman and Ayako Oshima performed Las Dolly Sisters for Clarinet and Alto Saxophone (2021) about two vaudeville twins. This entertaining work was had a very sexy dance feel; however this reviewer feels the performers could have exploited the supple and syncopated Latin pulse more. It felt as though the work wasn’t completely integrated yet; nonetheless it was an admirable introduction to this interesting work!

The closing work was the Clarinet Sonata, Op. 167 (1921), by Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921). This sonata, composed during the last year of his life, is a romantic work at heart. The first movement felt like a love poem to the instrument, exploiting all its facets and capabilities. The lightness of the second movement was executed expertly by Mr. Neidich and Mr. Shams,  whose collaboration throughout the program was top notch to say the least! The funereal third movement was full of pathos and featured the instruments deep and guttural tones only to contrast it with moments on the other extreme of the instrument, angelic and high. With an attacca fourth movement, the work comes full circle as was typical in many romantic pieces with a nostalgic stating of the theme from the first movement.

The entire group came back for a short encore by the French composer Germaine Tailleferre (1892-1983) – Allegretto for Three Clarinets (but this time with on part on saxophone). It was the perfect sorbet after a concert of demanding and interesting repertoire.

The Wa Concert Series plans to continue their programming this year and we look forward to another concert full of surprising and decadent music! Ms. Oshima reminded the audience of her love of cooking and graciously provided a reception for the audience to greet the performers. Perhaps there’s a concert pairing repertoire with specific dishes in the future of the group?