Balázs Fülei, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 9, 2024

Before taking the stage last night in front of a packed Weill Hall, pianist Balázs Fülei was introduced – by a former college mate – as “one of the nicest people in the world.” After listening to this recital, I tend to agree with that statement, although I’m not sure that is indeed the compliment it was meant to be…

Mr. Fülei is a more than capable pianist, with an impressive resume, but to my ears he sounded a bit too “civilized.” As long as the music asked for straightforward storytelling and for conquering treacherous passages (such as in the extensive Liszt transcription in the second half of the program), this pianist provided a solid account. However, when things got rougher, musically speaking – such as in the Beethoven and Chopin pieces – Mr. Fülei was somewhat less convincing.

In a charming intro to the evening, Mr. Fülei explained that he sees this program as made of questions (the first half, which included Chopin’s Fourth Ballade and Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 23 in F Minor, Op. 57, Appassionata), followed by the voice of conviction (the second half, with works by Bartók, Liszt and Kodály). Personally, I felt that his choices were more along the lines of “homage to the Gods” (first half) and “homage to my home country” (second half). Still, if we are to play along with the pianist’s own description, I dare say that he is more apt at providing answers than asking the big questions…

Chopin’s Fourth Ballade is an over-played but elusive masterpiece; it is equal parts of ancient legend and searing drama. In a really outstanding rendition, the pianist needs to master the intricate texture (highly chromatic and often quite dense) and rise above the complexities of the score, making it sound fresh and almost improvisational. Even from the very first bars, Mr. Fülei seemed earthbound, employing a tad too much rubato and a slowish, deliberate pace which dragged things down instead of lifting them up. The main theme sounded more declamatory than intimate and flowing. He did, however, produce some very nice colors along the way. He also tended to “slap” some of the higher notes in the melody, instead of allowing them to sing. Perhaps because the beginning of the piece felt too “real,” the big climax at the end did not have the necessary impact.

Beethoven’s Appassionata is another warhorse of the piano repertoire, and one with considerable challenges even for the most accomplished performers. In the first movement, one of the most difficult tasks is to keep a relentless pulse – like a heartbeat – throughout the movement and yet make it sound completely free and organic. The three-note motif (on which the entire musical discourse is built) feels almost like a Hamletian Dilemma and it is shrouded in mystery and philosophical undertones. Here we arrive again at the point of “questions” – this being a really big one! – and I felt that Mr. Fülei only scratched the surface of what Beethoven attempted to convey. I also wished for more unity of tempo, instead of offering a slightly different pace for every new passage. The second movement was generally played too loudly, almost in a continuous mezzo-forte, in a terre-à-terre fashion not aligned with the spiritual content of the piece. The stormy finale was generally technically mastered but in my opinion lacked the cumulative effect of an impending wave which sweeps everything in its way. 

In the second half of the recital, Mr. Fülei provided more information about each piece he performed, and he did so with his usual grace and humor. He began with a set of Romanian Christmas Songs, arranged by Béla Bartók. These traditional Romanian Christmas carols, called Colinde, have an ancestral resonance to them, full of mystical touches. There is nostalgia and a feeling of loss and longing (the word “dor” – almost impossible to translate, though close in meaning to “longing” – comes to mind). Yes, there are perky rhythms, which Mr. Fülei attacked with bravura, but the melody – and there is always a melody – needs to shine through and sing (interestingly, in the Romanian language you “sing” an instrument, you don’t play it!). 

Next came the most intriguing and, for me, the best performed piece of the evening. Liszt’s Christus Oratorium (originally written for orchestra) is not a piece I am familiar with. Based on Liszt’s own piano transcription, of which we’ve heard two movements last night, I’m not sure I want to know it better. The music is repetitive, occasionally bombastic, and mostly uninspired. And yet, this is where Mr. Fülei’s gifts truly came to life: telling a story, letting the music breathe, building phrases to reach climaxes. He drew orchestral sounds from the instrument and, in spite of the lackluster quality of the music, he captured my attention for almost half an hour! He found humor in the story of the shepherds by the manger and created a dreamlike atmosphere as the three holy kings bestowed their gifts upon the newborn child. He played with commitment and made a strong case for a work which I’m not sure deserves it – but that is one of the highest achievements a performer can reach.

The last piece on the program, Kodály’s Dances  of Marosszék, was a fitting finale to the recital. This is a great work, again inspired by Romanian folk, and Mr. Fülei played it with spirit and gusto! I would have liked to feel more of a common thread running through the different sections, and perhaps the pedaling was over-generous at times, but it was a joy to listen to the imitation of several folk instruments and bask in the excitement that Balázs Fülei shared with us!

Jihye Chung, Piano; Guest Artist: Jihoon Chung, Violin

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 7, 2024

Korean-born pianist Jihye Chung gave her New York debut recital at Zankel Hall (at Carnegie Hall) this Saturday and showed that she is a musician with much to offer. In a program made up of Sonatas by Scarlatti and Mozart, two Chopin Ballades(Nos. 1 and 3), and Grieg’s Piano Sonata, Op. 7, she also included a duo, Schubert’s Violin Sonata in D Major, D. 384, played with her violinist brother Jihoon Chung.

Ms. Chung’s biographical notes mentioned that this year has included – along with this New York debut – a concert at the Seoul Arts Center, and one assumes there will be many to follow. Her studies and performances have taken her from South Korea to Germany. In Germany, where she lived for thirteen years, she studied at the Hochschule für Musik und Theater München with Franz Massinger, Prof. Yuka Imamine, and Prof. Gitti Pirner (earning a diploma, a master’s degree, and a Weiterbildendes Zertifikatsstudium Meisterklasse) and later at the Hochschule for Musik Carl Maria von Weber in Dresden, with teacher Yevgeny Feldmann. These studies seem to have had a strong impact on her, as she plays with great dedication to detail, bringing focus to her natural musical spirit.

Ms. Chung walked onstage clad in black and with great purposefulness. From the very first notes of her set of Scarlatti Sonatas, she held her audience rapt, including this reviewer, who knows these works intimately. Every phrase had clearly been considered thoroughly, shaped artistically, and delivered with persuasive commitment and assuredness. The first Sonata (D major, K. 96) was exceptional for its delicate rapid repeated notes (to be heard again later in the D minor Sonata, K. 141, often referred to as Toccata), but most importantly Ms. Chung projected its ebullience, savoring the dissonances of its Iberian influences and the playful (but tricky) hand-crossings. The slower A major Sonata(K. 322) was a gem in Ms. Chung’s hands as well. It had a purity of expression and clarity of phrase that captivated her listener. If one says that there was nothing exaggerated or demonstrative – true – it should also be stressed that there was also never a dry or dull moment. There was no note without life or direction. The ever-popular C major Sonata (K. 159) followed with crispness and energy, and the set of four ended brilliantly with the Toccata.

Mozart’s Sonata in B-Flat major, K. 570, followed with similar excellence. Her performance got to the heart of the piece, spotlighting each compositional “event” with care. The first movement stood out for its colorful exchange of voices and that operatic quality that helps bring Mozart’s piano music to life. The second movement enjoyed carefully varied (but never fussy) articulation, and it felt like chamber music throughout, from its horn-like opening onward. Occasionally, one wanted a touch more breathing space, but here it seemed the pianist was focused on keeping the pace, as she also did in the last movement. Though this reviewer prefers the sixteenth-note runs in this Allegretto to have a more “granular” quality, they flowed forward like liquid – at any rate, the piece concluded in high spirits, with its closing measures conveying Mozart’s characteristic mischief.

For the last work before intermission, Ms. Chung was joined by her brother, skilled violinist Jihoon Chung, in Schubert’s Violin Sonata in D major, D. 384 (composed in 1816 when the composer was just nineteen years old). Schubert is often described as having one foot in the Classical Viennese style of Haydn and Mozart (with hints of Beethoven’s influence naturally), while the other foot moved towards the Romantic spirit of later composers. There is consequently a question of which way interpreters will lean, particularly when there are two or more players. It seemed in this duo’s interpretation that the pianist leaned more towards the pristine classical restraint we had enjoyed in the Mozart Sonata, while the violinist looked ahead to the world of later Romantic violin concerti in matters of tone, vibrato, and phrasing. Not to set up false dichotomies – as there can be huge overlap in expressiveness even across many centuries – but one imagines that there will be more of a meeting of minds with more performances together.

After intermission (and a colorful change of wardrobe), we heard two Chopin Ballades, No. 1 in G minor and No. 3 in A-Flat major. Again, the question of style arose, as there seemed a Beethovenian deliberateness that did not quite serve these creations. From the opening of the G minor Ballade, which was suitably ponderous, there was an increase in weightiness that kept the piece earthbound, even where Chopin starts to soar in reverie. Where it seemed that Ms. Chung decided to  “take flight,” it appeared that her hands did not always agree, as they tended to gloss over some passages a bit uncomfortably. The end had one of the slowest starts to the octave accelerando in memory – undoubtedly a heartfelt decision, yet somehow skewing the piece’s proportions. Similarly, the A-flat Ballade felt a bit slow in spots (even for this reviewer, who often prefers slower tempi). Perhaps fatigue was setting in, as there was also a rather stubborn memory glitch around the grandioso towards the end. At any rate, one seldom likes everything in a concert, and the Scarlatti and Mozart had already been more than worth the trip – but there was more.

Grieg’s Piano Sonata Op. 7, concluded the program, emerging as a much better match for this pianist’s stylistic sense and technique. It gave the evening just the right lyricism in the Andante movement and closed with a perfect bravura splash. Hearty applause elicited an encore, and both sister and brother returned to the stage to do it, with no announcement of what it would be. As many may have recognized, it was the famous Csárdás by Vittorio Monti. The sibling duo seemed to have lots of fun with it. One hopes that they will return together, though perhaps with some reimagining. For one thing, this listener kept thinking that Weill Hall (at Carnegie also) would have been a smarter choice as a venue, not only for its size but also for its acoustics, better suited to some of the earlier repertoire. In any case, they should look forward to much music ahead!

Joel Raney, composer/conductor

Joseph M. Martin, composer/conductor

Jane Holstein, piano; David Angerman, piano

David John Hailey, Sue Martin, Sarah Whittemore, Scot Cameron, vocal soloists

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall., New York, NY

December 2, 2024

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) wrapped up their holiday concert series with a concert entitled A Winter’s Life, featuring the music of Joel Raney and Joseph M. Martin. Excitement was in the air as singers from Florida, Texas, Virginia, Ohio, Alabama, Illinois, Arizona, New York, South Carolina, Kentucky, California, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Tennessee, Indiana, Canada, and individual singers from around the globe took to the stage to remind all present of the real meaning of the season (and no, it is not Black Friday or Cyber Monday).

Joel Raney took the podium to conduct the Carnegie Hall premiere of Have You Heard?, a thirty-five minute, eight-movement piece that was the sole collection on the first half. This was Mr. Raney’s first DCINY appearance as a conductor. As Mr. Raney wrote in his program notes, Have You Heard? uses Celtic musical influences and weaves those sounds into “traditional” Christmas music, sort of “Bethlehem by way of Belfast.” I must admit I was initially skeptical of this concept, thinking it would be gimmicky at best. How wrong I was! It was done with great skill, and hearing Irish and Welsh folk melodies (e.g., Bunessan and Hyfrydol) as settings for the lyrics from more well-known songs was captivating. The melodies breathed fresh life into these lyrics.

To be sure, not all of Mr. Raney’s offerings this evening were re-inventions and reharmonizations, as there were plenty of the classics “left intact.” This listener’s favorite movements were the jaunty Come Messiah, Come Emmauel, with its exciting accelerando, the “re-mixed” O Little Town of Bethlehem as an ethereal evensong, and the “Irished-up” Come and Adore Him. Vocal soloist David John Hailey’s strong voice filled the hall with O Holy Night. A jubilant Wexford Carol ended the work in style, with Mr. Raney receiving a richly deserved ovation. Praise is also due to the large chorus for their excellent preparation and performance, and the ever-reliable Distinguished Concerts Orchestra once again shone brightly.

After Intermission, Joseph M. Martin took the podium to conduct the Carnegie Hall premiere of his composition A Weary World Rejoices (orchestrated by Ed Hogan). Mr. Martin is a DCINY favorite – this is his 13^th appearance with DCINY. A Weary World Rejoices is a forty-minute, nine-movement work that is vintage Martin, brimming with excitement and energy. Mr. Martin radiates pure joy on the podium, which is reflected back to him by both the chorus and orchestra. I find the title to be something of a misnomer, as there was no sign of “weariness”  detected by this listener. In fact,  it was so relentlessly joyous that if it had been for any other occasion other than Christmas I would have despaired for some tension. Even as it was, I was hoping for some more differentiation of mood, but Mr. Martin poured his considerable talents for vibrant musical celebration into this work. Favorite movements were Redeem, Restore, Renew, with vocal soloists Sarah Whittemore and Scot Cameron weaving magic with their pristine voices, the uplifting Arise! Rejoice!, and Beautiful Star, with the angelic voice of Sue Martin soaring into the heavens. Let’s also remember the chorus, whose mammoth numbers could have filled a stadium with the sounds of unabashed joy. After the final movement, Cantique de Noël (O Holy Night), the audience gave Mr. Martin and the assembled forces a loud and extended standing ovation. Happy Holidays and congratulations to all.

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor 

Penelope Shumate, Soprano; Holly Sorensen, Mezzo-Soprano;

Chad Kranak, Tenor; Christopher Job, Bass-Baritone;

Violetta Zabbi, Portative organ;

Distinguished Concerts Singers International;

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra;

Isaac Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 1, 2024

Hearing Handel’s Messiah performed well has long been among the most life-affirming experiences in classical music. It has consistently drawn crowds far exceeding the noteworthy 700 who attended its premiere in Dublin in 1742, and since at least 2011, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) has given it some of New York’s most outstanding performances. This past Sunday’s performance at Carnegie Hall was no exception.

First, for the uninitiated who read this review’s headline and think, “Wait – shouldn’t that read Handel’s Messiah?” – Yes. It is indeed by Handel, but since Mozart revised the orchestration in 1789, it is sometimes called Mozart’s Messiah to distinguish it from the sparer original and later more extravagant versions. As the oratorio soon after its premiere was in demand throughout Europe, various copies were circulating, both in the original English text that Charles Jennens used (from King James Bible verses) and in translations to other languages. By the time Mozart obtained a copy in 1789, in a German version by Daniel Ebeling, it was ready for a musical “update” in keeping with the changing orchestras of the day and with Mozart’s sense of balance. Pairs of flutes, clarinets, oboes, horns, and bassoons were added in a version that has since been widely embraced. Other re-orchestrations followed, including a much larger-scale one made by Eugene Goossens in the twentieth century (which DCINY played as well and recorded), but on this occasion DCINY opted for the more traditional Mozart – sung, however, in English.

This reviewer has heard (and reviewed) DCINY’s now annual Messiah at least three times, both in the Mozart version and the Goossens. Either way, it seems that DCINY has perfected its “recipe” for the piece, and, assuming they are planning to continue it through 2042 (the 300th anniversary of the piece), it may by then be called “DCINY’s Messiah.”

So, what exactly is the DCINY recipe? Well, they start with a core quartet of star singers. Four DCINY “regulars” returned as soloists, soprano Penelope Shumate,  mezzo-soprano Holly Sorenson, tenor Chad Kranak, and bass-baritone Christopher Job – exactly the same as in 2023. (Why tamper with what works?)

From the very first words of the entire oratorio, “Comfort ye my people,” sung by Mr. Kranak, we felt that comfort to which the text refers, ensured by a glorious tenor instrument that never wavered. His melismas in “Ev’ry valley shall be exalted” were as captivating as one remembered from 2023.

Bass-baritone Christopher Job delivered the recitative “Thus saith the Lord” seemingly effortlessly and with refreshingly precise diction. The lines of “But who may abide the day of his coming” extended for miles with similarly seamless ease. His other contributions were excellent as well.

The ever-radiant mezzo-soprano Holly Sorensen sang her first momentous notes with “Behold, a virgin shall conceive,” and from there her voice continued to bloom. Though she was often tasked with singing in a range overlapping with the orchestra’s (including the Mozart wind additions), her voice was rarely lost in the texture, and her phrasing was artfully shaped.

Soprano Penelope Shumate, vibrant as ever, offered perfectly brilliant recitativo introductions to set up the choral “Glory to God.” She simply soared in “He shall feed his flock” as well. One couldn’t help appreciating that, with her energy following through to the last second of each phrase, not a moment or a word-ending was lost.

As for the oratorio’s strictly orchestral movements, the Sinfonia (Overture) and Pifa (Pastoral Symphony), they were as reliable as ever, with concertmaster Jorge Ávila offering exceptionally strong leadership. DCINY has a regular core orchestra with, one assumes, some additions as needed, but as we talk about formulas for success, such long-standing members are not to be underestimated.

Last of all, in the DCINY “recipe,” is the combining of choruses from all over the world to join forces. DCINY finds the perfect blend of professional, semi-professional, and amateur singers, so that, along with the skill required to navigate some demanding music, comes the energy of those who find performing at Carnegie Hall to be a thrilling adventure. The air is always alive with excitement, and this time was no exception, with the parquet and first balcony completely filled (undoubtedly partly by some friends and relatives of performers) as well-trained choruses from far and wide filed onstage to become a single mega-chorus. The participating choruses included the American International School Of Vienna High School Choir (Austria), Arts For Manitoba Indigenous Youth Choir (Canada), The Alabama Civic Chorale (AL), Baha’i Choir (IL), Chorale 77 (PA), Franklin Civic Operetta Association Festival Choir (PA), Illiana Oratorio Society (IL), Madisonville Community Chorus (KY), Mendelssohn Choir Of Connecticut (CT), Nebo Holiday Chorus & Orchestra (UT), St. Paul’s Episcopal Church Choir (NC), Trinity Episcopal Church Choir, Everett (WA), Trinity Episcopal Church Choir, and St. Mary’s City (MD) – in addition to individual singers from around the world.

From the first full choral entry of “And the Glory of the Lord,” the enormous combined choruses were in top form. It was not possible to count them, but they spilled over from the several risers spanning the wide Perelman stage and onto the orchestral area just behind the violins. This sound was possibly even better and stronger than one recalls from previous years. One of the only sketchy moments in the combined choruses arose in the “And He shall purify” movement, where the penchant in various voices to slow down (to articulate each sixteenth note) sometimes threatened the unity of the twisty imitative lines. Maestro Griffith, as ever, held the reins, leading the masses quickly and solidly onward, and the result was stirring. “For unto us a child is born” was simply, as the choral exclamations state, “Wonderful!”

It was a slight surprise that the “Hallelujah” chorus did not conclude the concert, as it would have been ending “on a high” – instead, it was followed by the “Worthy is the Lamb that was Slain” chorus and the final “Amen.” These were played commendably, but this listener would still have opted for the “Hallelujah” close. In any case, congratulations are due to all involved. DCINY’s Messiah seems to mark – along with the lighting of the Rockefeller Center tree – the official start to the New York holiday season!

Jimin Han, piano

Judy and Arthur Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 24, 2024

Tonight’s performance at Zankel Hall featured pianist Jimin Han in an inventive and adventurous program with modern works that are not often played. It is refreshing to see an artist with a commitment to introducing new works to audiences – it is a testament to this performer’s bravery and brilliance.

The most well-known composer on the program was Samuel Barber (1910–1981), though the works performed tonight were far from the usual selections found on recital programs. The Ballade, Op. 46, opened with a set of arresting chords that immediately drew the listener into Barber’s unique sound world. Drawing inspiration from Frédéric Chopin, a renowned composer of ballades, Barber wrote in the duple meter of 6/8, yet he infused the form with his own dramatic harmonic language. Ms. Han brought a transparent, luminous tone to the opening section, while her interpretation of the intense middle section displayed both power and command. As the A-section returned, she evoked a haunting sense of the drama that had just unfolded.

The Nocturne, Op. 33, is another rarely performed work, again belonging to a genre strongly associated with Chopin, but here dedicated to John Field, who is credited to be originator of the form. While its thematic content employs twelve-tone techniques, the piece is crafted in a way that maintains a sense of a tonal center. Ms. Han’s performance displayed great sensitivity, though it could have benefitted from a more singing tone. A more successful interpretation might have embraced the interplay between the work’s angular, expressive melodies and its harmonically grounded, traditional elements, fully exploiting its unique character. This nocturne develops and uncovers more and more drama which was handled technically well, but left the listener wanting for a grander climax, especially in the intricate and beautifully dissonant cadenza. The ending could have had more of a sense of gravity.

Next on the program was a piece by Aaron Jay Kernis (b. 1960), LullabyfromBefore Sleep and Dreams. This piece had a hypnotic opening which Ms. Han played in a captivating manner. Her keen sense of pulse captured the lullaby’s gentle rocking motion, while the surrounding material seemed to float effortlessly. She navigated the larger, more romantic outbursts with expertise, skillfully exploiting the piece’s coloristic use of registers. This alluring work provided a beautiful and seamless transition from the more serious tone of the Barber pieces.

Another new work for this reviewer was one by Paul Schoenfield (1947-2024), Selections fromPeccadilloes. These three movements were interesting as they all referenced Baroque dances and older forms, but seen through a modern lens. The first movement, Allemande, was particularly striking, with its harmonic intricacies brought to life with great clarity by Ms. Han. While the piece began with rhythmic and textural nods to the traditional Baroque dance, it soon evolved into something more intimate and contemporary, blending old and new in a compelling way. The next movement, Fughetto, was the highlight of the three. This energetic fugue was expertly handled, and all the surprising syncopated and jazzy rhythms were delineated beautifully – what a wild ride for the performer and the listener! The last movement, Waltz, began with a mystical opening. Ms. Han was able to successfully guide the listening through the intricacies of the sophisticated harmonies and still communicate the essence of the dance. The end was supple and performed with great care – a satisfying conclusion to the first half of the recital.

The second half of the program had works by three Korean composers. It is an important endeavor to highlight composers from parts of the world that are typically underrepresented on recital programs. It was exciting to see unfamiliar names on the program, and I commend Ms. Han for her dedication to performing not only works by composers from her own cultural heritage but also pieces by living composers who are actively writing new music.

The first work, The Wave, was by Bumki Kim (b. 1974). This programmatic piece depicts the waves on the Southern Coast of Korea, a storm, and the calming of that storm by the sunrise breaking. This is achieved by a lulling and continuous patterns that eventually explode into a giant climax. The composer exploits the instrument through its extreme range and dynamics. Some of the louder sections felt a bit forced by Ms. Han as they could have been played grander and with more resonance. However, it was still a successful performance, and she had good control over the arc of the work.

The Little Blue Bird Dance Suite by Korean composer Heejung Park (b. 1978), another programmatic work, uses the bluebird symbolically. The piece depicts the story of a little bluebird being pursued by hunter unknowingly. The innocent opening is followed by an ominous scene where the “bluebird [is] left behind be its mother in a dark forest at dawn.” The drama of the work unfolds organically and naturally – and Ms. Han carries the audience through to the different sections seamlessly and with great poise. It was wonderful to see the composer present and acknowledged at the conclusion of the work.

The centerpiece of the program, in this reviewer’s opinion, was the next work: the Complete Piano Etudes by Unsuk Chin (b. 1961). While these works are becoming increasingly recognized, they are still rarely programmed in recitals—perhaps due to their extreme difficulty, which are on a par with the Ligeti etudes. However, Chin’s approach is distinct, drawing inspiration from various sources rather than directly following Ligeti’s model of solving compositional problems.

The first étude, In C, uses the overtones of C to establish its harmonic foundation while incorporating elements inspired by Balinese gamelan music, reminiscent of the approach taken by early 20th-century French composers. The result is a dazzling display of color, technique, and sound that can captivate even the most skeptical audience member. Ms. Han performed this etude magnificently and played the most complex passages with ease. Etudes 2 through 4 are of a different word and certainly the one that stands out is No. 3, Scherzo. She performed this with a distinct touch and character. The figures were played in a shapely manner while still maintaining drive and a sense of the greater pulse. The famous etude No. 5, Toccata was precise, and Ms. Han followed the longer line of long tones quite well – an impressive feat! And, finally, No. 6, Grains, felt like a kaleidoscope of sounds. Ms. Han certainly knows her way around these works!

At first, the programming of the recital seemed somewhat mellow, with the pieces in the first half conveying a similar tone. However, upon further reflection, it became clear that the intentional placement of the Chin études allowed for a gradual build-up, guiding the audience on a journey toward the apex of these extraordinary works. I appreciate the artist’s thoughtful programming and look forward to seeing her in another recital in the future.

Ms. Han concluded the recital after thunderous applause with an encore: Hesitation Tango from Souvenirs, by Samuel Barber – a perfect bookend to the evening.

Eric Whitacre, composer/conductor

Kelly Yu-Chien Lin, piano

Laurence Servaes, “Della;” David Castillo, “Jim”;  Sean Jean Ford. “Sheila;” April Amante, “Mrs. Sinclair”; Peter Kendall Clark. “Shopkeeper”

Distinguished Concerts Singers International; Distinguished Concerts Orchestra

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 26, 2024

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) kicked off their holiday concert series on November 26, 2024, with a concert entitled “An Eric Whitacre Holiday,” featuring the world premiere of the orchestrated version of Mr. Whitacre’s short opera The Gift of the Magi. Other works by Mr. Whitacre and holiday pieces by others filled out the program. The Distinguished Concerts Singers International came from Maryland, Ohio, Wisconsin, Georgia, Nevada, Alabama, Washington, North Carolina, Michigan, Colorado, California, Canada, United Kingdom, and “individual singers from around the globe.”

Eric Whitacre is a DCINY favorite – this is his 22^nd(!) appearance with DCINY. He is a composer, educator, and musical evangelist who brings his boundless energy and matchless charisma to the stage. He tells stories that he has probably told hundreds of times (and I have heard the “Kung Fu Panda” story at least six times) as if he were telling it for the first time.

As much as the chorus benefited from Mr. Whitacre’s guidance in refining them into giving outstanding performances, it should be said that the respective directors of the individual groups deserve praise for their preparatory work which made Mr. Whitacre’s job significantly easier. This was evident from the Carol of the Bells, which opened the first half with energy and precision.

Mr. Whitacre’s Lux Aurumque, Glow, little tree, and The Seal Lullaby (see “Kung Fu Panda” story) from the first half and Goodnight Moon (which opened the second half) are all works I have written about extensively in past reviews. Interested readers can reference those past reviews if they desire detailed information about the works. Suffice it to say, they all, even after many hearings, retain their luster and appeal.

Rounding out the first half,  Kristina Arakelyan’s Ave Maris Stella had a simple charm that enchanted. Melissa Dunphy’s Halcyon Days had a sentimental quality that was touching, even though the sopranos at times seemed to struggle with some of the higher register passages. Mr. Whitacre told us in the second half that he learned Ms. Dunphy was in attendance and asked her to stand, which she did to enthusiastic applause from the audience. The traditional hymn Brightest and Best had an insistent intensity that was striking. Finally, John Williams’s Star of Bethlehem (from his score for the movie Home Alone) was an excellent end to the first half.

After intermission (and Goodnight Moon, which opened the second half) , the stage was set for the world premiere of the orchestrated version of Mr. Whitacre’s (with Evan L. Synder) The Gift of the Magi. Mr. Whitacre wrote the libretto based on the 1905 O. Henry short story of the same name. For those who may not be familiar with this classic story, it centers on a young couple, Della and Jim, struggling to make ends meet. They search for Christmas gifts for each other, and the result is that Jim parts with his valuable heirloom watch to buy Della combs, and Della sells her long hair to buy Jim a watch chain – both gifts rendered nearly useless. The end message is that selfless love is the most precious gift of all. Mr. Whitacre’s version differs from the original in a few areas: he has the year as 1938, with Della having a job in a salon (she had no job in the original), her hair is blonde in this setting (it is brown in the original), the watch chain is gold (platinum in the original), and the haggling for the sale of Della’s hair in the salon is Mr. Whitacre’s invention (in the original, Della visits the nearby shop of a wig maker, Madame Sofronie, who buys Della’s hair for $20 straight away without any further negotiation). For those not too purist about the 1905 original, these changes emerge as quite effective in propelling the opera.

The Gift of the Magi clocks in around thirty-five minutes. The addition of the orchestra adds considerable heft, accentuating the hustle and bustle of the season, and turns the salon screen into a showstopping burlesque fit for a Broadway musical. My main issue was that everything seemed so rushed, that maybe some brief interludes of instrumental music might have “smoothed” the pace. That being said, this is an adventurous work, filled with difficult passages and large leaps for the soprano (Della), biting dissonances, and at times relentless drive – this is not the Eric Whitacre of Lux Aurumque! It is a work that could (and should) find its place in the holiday canon, assuming that one can find performers of exceptional ability to meet the challenges.

The entire cast from an earlier (2022) performance returned tonight. Peter Kendall Clark had the right amount of obsequiousness as the Shopkeeper trying to sell Della a watch chain. April Amante captured the snobbish attitude of the haughty Mrs. Sinclair, and Sara Jean Ford nearly brought the house down as the jaded Sheila. David Castillo as Jim projected his struggles and his devotion to Della with polished tones. Without wishing to take anything away from these fine artists, it was Laurence Servaes as Della who was the star of the evening – and to be sure, a lot of that is built into both the story and the challenging part Mr. Whitacre wrote for the role of Della! Whether it was tossing off wide leaps with ease, soaring into the stratosphere without any loss of vocal quality, or just projecting the almost ingénue quality of Della, Ms. Servaes was truly outstanding. Finally, the mighty chorus served well in the role of narrator.

The large audience gave all a loud ovation, with the loudest cheers for Ms. Servaes. DCINY continues the holiday series on December 1^st with Handel’s Messiah, in Mozart’s version.

Gregorio Benítez, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 22, 2024

Spanish-born pianist Gregorio Benítez gave what one could only call a miraculous recital this week, turning Weill Hall at Carnegie into a virtual aviary with seven selections from Olivier Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux (Catalogue of Birds). Mr. Benítez (completely unknown to this reviewer until now) came to New York as part of a world tour dedicated to the complete solo piano works of Messiaen. Anyone who has played from this Messiaen set knows the challenges – the thorny dissonances, complex chords, techniques from total serialism, quixotic rhythms in unmetered measures, and highly precise markings (for articulations, dynamics, and pedaling) – all requiring “translation” through drama and color to an audience without the added stimulus of Messiaen’s evocative scores (interspersed with descriptions of French landscapes). To do just one or two well is admirable, but Mr. Benítez did an entire program of them – and superbly. Straining credulity, he did it as part of a world tour traversal of Messiaen’s complete piano solo works (thus adding the rest of the Oiseaux, the other great cycle, Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus, the Préludes, the Études, and a few shorter works).

Adding to one’s amazement, it appeared that Mr. Benítez played from memory – with no book, tablet, pedal-turner, or anything else visible (unless there was some secret “smart” device in his eyeglasses, in which case this reviewer wants a pair). Lest anyone think that the usual concert mishaps would be easily disguised in Messiaen’s musical bird calls  – with sometimes two iterations, sometimes seven or twelve with tiny variations each time –  there was no “fudging” whatsoever, as your reviewer had access to a score throughout and can attest to the fact that hardly a millisecond was criticizable. The performance could have gone practically straight to release, to be added to the small list of great Messiaen cycle recordings (with those of Yvonne Loriod, Messiaen’s second wife, at the top of the list).

As many performers of pre-twentieth-century repertoire will agree, audiences are often unduly impressed with memorization feats, frequently asking questions such as, “How do you remember all those notes?” We are left wanting to assure them that we are not remembering isolated “notes” but a whole conception made of phrases, progressions, and structures – as with an actor living a role rather than logging thousands of words. That is the case with earlier or more conventional repertoire, but seldom does one see a scoreless pianist inhabiting the newer sonic worlds of this Messiaen set (1959) as Mr. Benítez did. He simply became the lark, the thrush, and the curlew – while coloring the scenery around them.

Catalogue d’Oiseaux includes thirteen pieces (spanning seven cahiers or notebooks), with each piece named after a single bird associated with a French region and each titular birdsong accompanied – or often interrupted and replaced – by songs of other birds from the same habitat. These songs alternate with music in which Messiaen intended to evoke their surroundings – the word “intended” used here only because the composer’s chromesthesia is not always transferrable to the listener. Mr. Benítez brought it about as close as one might imagine.

From the very first notes of the concert in Le Traquet Stapazin (The Western Black-eared Wheatear), Mr. Benítez exuded confidence as he led us on a tour of the sunny Côte Vermeille, dotting the soundscape with cries of silvery delicacy, insistent (and at times comical) squawks, and the occasional brusque avian scolding. Balletic pianistic gestures seemed designed not for show but to feel the character of each moment – as well as ensuring perfect timing from one scene to the next as if shifting the camera lens. Whether or not these movements were conscious, they actually enhanced the experience.

After a short pause, with no applause from the spellbound audience, came L’alouette calandrelle (The Short-toed Lark). One of the most touching of the whole set, its two opening chords recur amongst the bird calls to evoke the arid solitude of the Crau plain. In the opening chord, this reviewer had one of the few reservations of the entire evening, which was the desire for more of the B-sharp against the C-sharp, together creating the sting of loneliness and the memory of that each time it recurs. Overall, though, Mr. Benítez captured the atmosphere beautifully. The skylarks were well-served by the glassy upper register of the piano, and the sounds of quails, cicadas, and a kestrel all combined by contrast to underscore the desolation.

L’alouette lulu (The Woodlark) opened as a dreamy nocturne, its chant-like bass representing the night against the growing songs from the woodlark and nightingale. Le loriot (The Golden Oriole) closed the first half with one of the widest arrays of birdcalls and personalities (including one that was most comically noted by Messiaen as “autoritaire” or authoritarian) – all amid sunlit gardens and woods. Mr. Benítez projected it all vividly, from the moody opening through the long stretches of tangled cacophony, with drama and dazzling fingerwork. Memorable moments included the grive musicienne (song thrush) in what emerged as a moment of avian jazz. Striking also was the matter-of-factness of some of the bird calls, unromanticized. As Messiaen wrote, “My music is not ‘nice;’ it is certain.” These are not the birds of Keats and Shelley – or even of Henselt or Ravel – but creatures possessing a wild and limitless range of colors and energies.

One sometimes feels about this set that Messiaen’s poetic descriptions preceding each score ought to be included in the program, as they fill in blanks about the landscapes and birds where the gap from even a great pianist to his listener may not be bridged. It may also be relevant that Messiaen’s father was a literature professor and his mother the poet Cecile Sauvage, so it was natural to verbalize images that might be hard to transmit through music alone (as, for example, the oriole’s call, which for him was “like the laughter of a foreign prince” evoking “Africa and Asia or some unknown planet, full of light and rainbows and smiles of Leonardo De Vinci”).

The second half of the program was devoted to three Oiseaux, from Le merle de roche (the Rock Thrush), proceeding to Le courlis cendré  (The Curlew), and Le traquet rieur (The Black Wheatear). More of the magic described in the first half was found here, though with more foreboding spirit and some increasingly big sounds as demanded by the composer (at times verging on excessive harshness for this listener who had to cover her ears). A high point was Le courlis cendré – a tour de force in this pianist’s hands.

In summary, whether or not one embraces the piano music of Messiaen, Gregorio Benítez offers perhaps the best chance today to hear his piano music live, at least based on this hearing of seven of the Oiseaux. This listener went from the usual yawn upon reading the glowing words in the pianist’s biography before the concert (“yes, critics say he is ‘hypnotic’ and ‘extraordinary’ – that’s what lots of press releases say”) to thinking such words are inadequate.

Mr. Benítez has performed in the United States, Japan, Germany, Austria, the United Kingdom, France, and Portugal. His recorded works have been featured on MDR KLASSIK, King Classic Radio, NHK, TVE, Radio Clásica, Catalunya Música, Canal Sur, and Cuatro TV. Additionally, he has performed as a soloist with orchestras such as the MDR Sinfonieorchester, the Orquesta Sinfónica de RTVE, the Joven Orquesta de la Comunidad de Madrid, the Ensemble de Música Contemporánea RCSMM, the Osaka Sinfonietta, the Modern Orchestra of Beijing, and the Columbia Contemporary Music Group. He holds a Ph.D. in Music from the Universitat Politècnica de Valencia and has been a contributor to “Melómano” magazine since 2015.

His studies have taken him to the Royal Academy of Music in London and the Hochschule für Musik und Theater in Leipzig, and his teachers have included his father, Dr. Auxiliadora Gil, Prof. Julián López Gimeno, Josep Colom, and Prof. Markus Tomas, in addition to lessons from pianists such as Alicia de Larrocha, Leon Fleisher, Emanuel Ax, Menahem Pressler, and fortepianists Robert Levin, Malcolm Bilson, and Paul Badura-Skoda.

Beyond all his credentials, Gregorio Benítez is simply an amazing artist whose Messiaen interpretations will make a mark. He deserved a much larger crowd at Weill Hall, and one wondered where were, say, all the composition students or pianists from the various New York conservatories (as this concert was the equivalent of a few dozen lessons). In any case, for those wishing to track him down, the other venues listed on this tour include Severance Hall in Cleveland, Place des Arts in Montreal, the Musikverein in Vienna, the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, the Konzerthaus Berlin, the Mozarteum in Salzburg, the Palau de la Música in Barcelona, the Rudolfinum in Prague, the Hong Kong City Hall, and the Oriental Arts Centre in Shanghai.

Ian Hobson, piano

Tenri Cultural institute, New York, NY

November 15, 2024

Tonight’s performance was another retrospective into the complete piano works of Robert Schumann (1810-1856) by pianist Ian Hobson. This program, titled Visions of Youth, explored works that not only were composed for young pianists and students, but also reflected on childhood memories and themes.

It is rare for a recital program to feature works typically assigned to young learners, especially when performed by a pianist of Mr. Hobson’s caliber. The first half of the program, however, offered just that. Album für die Jugend, Op. 68 (Album for the Young), a staple in every piano instructor’s library, was presented in its entirety. Hearing the complete set was a different and enlightening experience, offering insights into Schumann’s thought process as he sought to encompass a wide range of fundamental piano techniques and expressive elements.

Mr. Hobson’s interpretations were thoughtful, imaginative, and sophisticated—qualities that brought a surprising depth to these simple pieces. Of particular note were No. 5, Stückchen, No. 16, Erster Verlust (First Loss), and No. 18, Schnitterliedchen (Little Reaper’s Song), which were rendered with supple lines and beautiful touches of imagination. The faster movements bristled with energy and verve: No. 2, Soldatenmarsch (Soldier’s March) was bold, and No. 12, Knecht Ruprecht (Servant Ruprecht) was suitably turbulent.

The program’s better-known pieces were a delight to hear. No. 10, Fröhlicher Landmann, von der Arbeit zurückkehrend (Merry Peasant, Returning from Work) radiated joy, and No. 14, Kleine Studie (Little Study) unfolded with ease. However, No. 8, Wilder Reiter (Wild Rider), with its galloping rhythm, was taken a bit too fast, resulting in some loss of clarity, particularly in the B section. Similarly, No. 17, Kleiner Morgenwanderer (Little Morning Wanderer) and No. 25, Nachklänge aus dem Theater (Reminiscences from the Theater) could have benefited from a warmer tone and a lighter touch.

The seldom-heard later movements were a revelation. No. 20, Ländliches Lied (Country Song) was tender, and No. 30 (untitled) revealed a more introspective and contemplative side of Schumann—one that might well have been attributed to Eusebius. These pieces encapsulate every facet of piano technique and musicality from beginner to advanced, offering a treasure trove of delights for both performers and listeners.

The second part of the concert began with Drei Clavier-Sonaten für die Jugend, Op. 118(Three Sonatas for the Young) —late works that provide a glimpse into the talent and skill of the composer’s three children, for whom these sonatas were written. While the idea of new piano sonatas for students is intriguing, these pieces require young learners of exceptional ability to navigate their challenges.

The first sonata in G major stands out as one of the more engaging works. Its short movements are captivating, and they were performed with great care. The second movement, a Theme and Variations, was particularly striking, in originality and character. The third movement, a lighthearted piece, felt more like an introduction to the lively Rondoletto that followed. A touch more rhythmic swing might have better conveyed the character of this final movement.

The second sonata, more esoteric in nature, was skillfully interpreted by Mr. Hobson. Despite the repetitive nature of the first movement, it maintained enough contrast to charm the listener. The second movement, an exercise in counterpoint, offered a technical challenge well-suited to young pianists. The serene Abendlied (Evening Song) served as the slow movement, while Kindergesellschaft (Children’s Company) captured the innocence and playfulness of childhood. An intriguing work!

The final sonata embarks on an adventurous journey in C major. The Allegro was played with a lively spirit and dynamic color shifts that highlighted harmonic changes. The second movement, reflective and meandering, was quintessentially Schumann in its introspective quality. The bold and bombastic Zigeunertanz (Romani Dance) brought energy and flair, while Traum eines Kindes (A Child’s Dream) closed the piece with imagination and nostalgia. By referencing the first movement, this finale achieved a satisfying sense of cyclicality.

Certainly, the most well-known works on tonight’s program are the Kinderszenen, Op. 15. Though inspired by childhood, these scenes are not intended as teaching pieces for children. Instead, they evoke a sense of nostalgia, capturing fleeting moments of childhood through a reflective lens.

One of my personal favorites, No. 1, Von fremden Ländern und Menschen (Of Foreign Lands and Peoples), was played with beautiful simplicity by Mr. Hobson. Among the highlights were No. 3, Hasche-Mann (Blind Man’s Buff), whose buildup to the climax was masterfully executed, and No. 4, Bittendes Kind (Pleading Child), which left the audience nearly breathless. No. 5, Glückes genug (Happy Enough) might have benefited from a more transparent interpretation, but it remained enjoyable.

At the heart of the work is, of course, the iconic No. 7, Träumerei (Dreaming), a piece with a history of being performed on its own by many world-renowned artists. However, tonight’s performance felt too grounded in the real world, lacking the fantasy and introspection that define this beloved movement. In contrast, No. 10, Fast zu Ernst (Almost Too Serious) and No. 11, Fürchtenmachen (Frightening) were especially memorable, showcasing Mr. Hobson’s sensitivity and attention to detail.

Tonight’s concert was a rare and remarkable experience, bringing together a complete performance of these cherished works. It is hard to imagine having the opportunity to hear these pieces presented collectively in a single recital again. Mr. Hobson’s dedication to Robert Schumann and his artistry made the evening truly special. The next all-Schumann concert, featuring trios, is scheduled for December 13—we eagerly await another extraordinary performance!

Jinyoung Park Kim, Viola; Sonja Park, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 17, 2024

Something special often happens when family members perform together, and a Sunday concert by sisters Jinyoung Park Kim, violist, and Sonja Park, pianist, supported that generalization. There were many moments of oneness, and a warmth of spirit pervaded Weill Hall. Presented by Mannes Prep, where Jinyoung Park Kim teaches, this sold-out concert had a refreshingly large contingent of excited young listeners, many seeming to know one another and some bearing flowers.

This concert was described in the violist’s notes as “a special reunion for Ms. Park Kim as she joins her sister, pianist Sonja Park, on stage.” Indeed, considering that Ms. Park’s piano career in recent years has been based in Doha, Qatar, one guesses that playing together has probably been inconvenient, to say the least; if rehearsals were at all scarce, however, their individual professionalism paired with family bonds carried the day. Both musicians have biographies filled with numerous awards, accolades, and international performances, and both have been instrumental (pun intended) in supporting and cultivating young talent in classical music.

The program was billed fancifully as “Romantic Reveries” – with “Romantic” clearly not referring to the historical era, as the program opened with a viola version of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 3 in C major (BWV 1009); Ms. Kim, however, did take a somewhat Romantic approach in her rendition of this much-loved suite. (This reviewer would opt for that any day over some of the fustiness we sometimes hear in the name of historical fidelity.) Her opening Prelude unfolded expansively, with no taint of the metronome about it but rather some welcome agogics gently emphasizing important metric and cadential points. Her tone was full, warm, and focused. The whole suite was finished in a flash due to the avoidance of repeats (perhaps a decision made with the younger audience members in mind), but a repeat of the first section of the Sarabande allowed some judicious embellishment, and naturally there was the built-in repeat of Bourrée I after Bourrée II.  Many would argue against the condensing of such a great work, but this is not the forum for such involved debate; furthermore, those working with the young these days and having to compete with smartphones for attention must follow their own instincts. The audience – of all ages – was rapt. Ms. Kim’s Gigue simply danced, closing the set with joy.

Music from the actual Romantic era followed as Ms. Kim and Ms. Park joined forces for the Brahms Sonata in E-flat, Op. 120, No. 2. Originally composed for clarinet after being inspired by the great clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld, the viola version was said to have left the composer with some doubts (not unusual, as Brahms excelled in the department of doubt);  we mere mortals, however, are grateful for the increased hearings afforded by this version (as well as other versions). One challenge, though, in performing such a clarinet work with viola involves adjusting the balance given the more contrasting timbres, but fortunately, even with the highly resonant hall Steinway (with the lid wisely set on the half-stick), the viola was never overpowered. One could guess how much restraint was being used overall from the way the piano’s sound penetrated during solo passages.

All in all, the Park-Kim duo projected a strong feeling for this mature and soulful work. Memorable moments included the seamless exchange within phrases in the opening Allegro amabile movement, where one heard the musical equivalent of the two sisters finishing each other’s sentences. Also memorable, in the second movement’s central B-major section, was the way they captured the composer’s characteristic nobility, with Ms. Park setting the tone perfectly. They impressed throughout with their split-second reactions, and in tricky ensemble passages one couldn’t help noticing that the two seemed to need no cues. Plenty were given (even if in a vestigial sort of way), but those seemed more coincidental than causal, as there was already a mutuality verging on telepathy (more effective than nods or gestures)!

After intermission, Ms. Park played two solo piano works, first the Gershwin-Wild Embraceable You and then the Schumann-Liszt Widmung (“Dedication”) in a switch of order from the printed program. On the subject of the printed program itself, this reviewer was surprised to see Embraceable You listed solely as Gershwin. For such music, where more than a workaday arrangement has been made, it seems remiss not to list the arranger/transcriber, in this instance, the late Earl Wild, whose inspired piano version has quite a following. In any case, both transcriptions seemed well-suited to this pianist’s penchant for “romantic reverie” – and, aside from a few minor snags that were well-handled, they were both quite lovely. (To this listener, there could have been more time given to the final Ave Maria section at the end, but Vive la différence!)

The high point of this well-paced program came next in a set of seven pieces from the ballet Romeo and Juliet by Prokofiev, arranged for viola and piano – again with an unlisted transcriber, though one is almost certain that it was Vadim Borisovsky. Crediting aside, the duo took this dazzling set through a panoramic journey, starting with its meditative Introduction. They continued theirride through the jaunty pizzicati and harmonics of The Street Awakens and thefeverish energy of Juliet the Young Girl. The famous Dance of the Knights, with its hair-raising viola octaves and stomping piano bass, emerged as epic, and Mercutio, which followed, had just the right wild athleticism. The Balcony Scene and the Death of Juliet brought the program to an emotionally stirring close, with the only signs of fatigue being a minor intonation glitch or two, but those somehow even added further to the pathos of it all. The entranced audience gave a standing ovation.

Encores included a touching Romance by Sang Jin Kim and  – if one heard correctly in the noisy hall – a hymn arrangement made especially for them by James Ra.

Teodora Brody, vocalist; Stanley Jordan, guitarist and pianist

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 8, 2024

There is something odd in writing music criticism about musical performers as natural and spontaneous as vocalist Teodora Brody and guitarist-pianist Stanley Jordan. It is rather like reviewing a forest or an ocean. Where does one start – and why? The best that one can do is to urge music lovers to hear them in live concert – rather, experience them – as a large crowd did at Carnegie’s Zankel Hall last Friday. As individual artists, Ms. Brody and Mr. Jordan have reached the heights in their fields, but to evaluate what they did together in this latest program by any established standards would be a mistake. They were doing something rare and original, a musical exploration à deux that was raw, real, and completely of the moment.

Some background on the two is in order. Guitar virtuoso Stanley Jordan has drawn the world’s attention (including this mostly classical musician’s) for decades. His visionary musicality – along with his piano background – led to his probing of touch techniques (including “hammer-on” and “pull-off” techniques using just one hand) to achieve ever greater textures and expressivity, even playing two guitars (or guitar and piano) simultaneously. (The reader can hear his version of “Stairway to Heaven” as one example: Stairway to Heaven- Stanley Jordan.) His music (whether pop-rock, innovative jazz, or classical reimaginings) has taken him to Kool Jazz, Concord Jazz, and Montreux Jazz festivals, as well as earning him four Grammy nominations. The long list of famous musicians he has played with is impressive, including Dizzy Gillespie, Kenny Rogers, Les Paul, and others. Notable among these luminaries was the great Quincy Jones, whose death the world mourns this month and with whom Mr. Jordan played in 1976 while still in high school. To round out the picture, Mr. Stanley’s scholarly credentials include a Bachelor of Arts from Princeton, where he studied theory and composition with Milton Babbit. His impulse for outreach has him now working towards a master’s degree in music therapy at Arizona State University, along with being a lecturing artist and spokesperson in that field. He seems to have no limits.

Crossover artist Teodora Brody, acclaimed vocalist in her native Romania and internationally, has similarly impressive credentials, particularly for her fusion of jazz with Doina, the improvisatory folk tradition of Romania. She has been the recipient of important honors from Romania and the US and has performed at the Montreux, Marciac, and Lugano festivals, among others, as well as at the US Library of Congress, the Corcoran Gallery of Art, New York’s Iridium, and the Kennedy Center. In two weeks, she will perform with the London Symphony Orchestra, with whom she recorded a CD entitled Rhapsody in 2023. She has performed with Johnny Răducanu, Les Paul, and many other well-known artists, and often throughout Europe with Stanley Jordan, who calls the experience of playing with her as “indescribable and unpredictable magic.” Indescribable is what her voice itself is as well, but we are tasked with detailing what we heard, so let’s start with a pitch range of four octaves (bringing to mind the legendary Yma Sumac), matched by the widest imaginable spectrum of timbres and colors, from whispers, moans, and wails to sustained piercing heights, all combining into a limitless palette in service to a fearless spirit.

There was no actual program given out at this concert (just a booklet with biographies and the like), as we were informed that the duo would perform without programs, scores, or even rehearsal. For this concert – fittingly called “Impromptu” – the goal was to create a “wild journey,” as Ms. Brody announced from the stage, connecting to one’s inner self and exploring (as the printed notes state) “how suffering can be transformed into wisdom through the beauty within us all.” Though many classical and jazz musicians also profess to follow the inner self and play all or partially without a score, this particular collaboration took spontaneity to new levels. Aside from a handful of nods to notated music towards the end of this concert, the evening was about an hour and a half (with no intermission) of completely spontaneous music-making, never to be repeated, with almost no songs or composers for a reviewer to cite. With only what one imagines may have been some safety net from past collaborations, the duo launched, with the audience, into the unknown.

The unknown can be unsettling, but in a way that mirrors life. As there were no breaks for talking or applause for roughly the first forty-five minutes of the concert, one was never certain what lay ahead, or for how long – or even how the duo was managing synchronized transitions from one mood or harmonic progression into the next with no visible cues (except for what seemed some possible signals via a cylinder bell from Ms. Brody at certain junctures or lulls). There were often no discernible words either, merely syllables, but as the concert was presented by the Associazione Unifying Worlds, it seemed fitting that the chief language was music. One had to do the best one could to understand it all, but we knew we were in good hands.

How does one start a duo performance with no rehearsal or score? The answer is: alone. Ms. Brody began the program with what resembled an incantation centering on a few words about “the play of life and death we see everywhere,” but the eerie and dramatic tone took musical shape chiefly from wordless syllables to follow. Centering often on a single focal pitch around which she wove expanding melodies (seemingly influenced by her Doina singing, with flavors and motives of Middle Eastern music), she clearly followed that “inner self” with what started as basic harmonic support from Mr. Jordan and evolved into a joint exploration. Together, they settled into expanding patterns, rhythms, and flights of imagination, fusing folk with blues and a range of jazz styles.

Ms. Brody moved from slow lyricism, sometimes basic breathing noises, to high-energy scat singing and rhythmic dance, punctuated by intentional plosives that a beatboxer might envy. She built bluesy riffs into fiery peaks with virtuoso support and inspiration from Mr. Jordan. Overall arch shapes were naturally prevalent as the duo could latch onto a long-term climb or descent together in ways that felt organic. The music alternately sighed, rumbled, and exploded, as uninhibited as something one might create alone at home – but few could pull off such a feat so artfully in public, much less at Carnegie Hall.

Among the few reservations, one was that there seemed some overuse of repeated or drone-like basses – understandably as a way to keep the duo’s improvisations anchored, but still occasionally making things a shade monochromatic at times, despite Mr. Jordan’s brilliant and tonally adventurous elaborations above them.

One could imagine narratives or emotions through much of the evening, but there was little guidance. There was a more explicit narrative as Mr. Jordan moved from his seat in the center towards the stage piano for one of the longer creations (around twenty minutes). There, he started his own solo improvisation, playing both a guitar that rested on his lap and the piano, often at the same time, with his right hand generally on the keyboard and his left on the guitar neck. He began a story as he played, telling the legend of a lake, a forest, and a creature living peacefully there until the invasion of it by those less peaceful. As the story developed, his playing evoked that lake through streaming figurations on his two instruments as well as piano glissandi. Mystical effects of a forest were created in the combination of piano and guitar, with Ms. Brody’s voice joining as the drama unfolded. In the end, the music resolved into peace, as the creature taught the invaders about love. The final message was that “the power of love” wins over “the love of power” – though one couldn’t help thinking that, in Mr. Jordan’s music therapy context, such a story could represent any triumph of positive over negative – including in health. Geared towards a more “lay” audience, it was the kind of music that could be vital in outreach efforts. The improvisation as a whole worked well, leaving this listener with just only one main reservation, that the amplification used made Ms. Brody’s voice simply too loud at times, sometimes reaching a painful level. She is a singer who needs very little help!

On the lighter side, the duo included a Romanian drinking song, and they performed it with just the right bacchanalian boisterousness. Ms. Brody encouraged any Romanians in the audience to join in. Some did, also clapping rhythms – after which the audience gave a hearty round of applause.  The duo also included some clever improvisation based on a name suggestion from the audience – in this case, “Monica” – which became the springboard. It was enjoyed by all.

Towards the concert’s end, we heard Al Jarreau’s “Better Than Anything” (1977) moving almost seamlessly into Bernstein and Sondheim’s “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story (1957), a brilliant pairing with their certain motivic kinship. Ms. Brody quipped that they included these to show they could read music, though there was little doubt of that. An encore of Bach’s Air on the G String followed, recast with jazz elaborations by Mr. Jordan and Ms. Brody’s addition of words from Kahlil Gibran’s “On Love” from The Prophet. It was a moving close to an amazing night.

In addition to hearing these performers’ more practiced efforts (many on YouTube), the reader may want to check out Ms. Brody’s recent CD, a recording this reviewer has yet to hear (Teodora Brody- Rhapsody CD).  Given the huge range of this musician, there is absolutely NO guarantee that it resembles anything heard at Carnegie, but that is where the adventure lies!