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!

Louis Pelosi, composer

Sharon Chang, piano; Dominika Gacka, piano; Mateusz Borowiak, piano

Merkin Hall at Kaufman Center, New York, NY

October 20, 2024

On Sunday evening, Louis Pelosi presented the world premieres of four of his piano works, with works by Chopin and Szymanowski completing the program. The audience at Merkin Hall was alarmingly sparse, in spite of the presence of three gifted musicians on stage, who performed the works of a prolific living composer. Alarming perhaps, but hardly surprising; this was only yet another proof that living composers (with a few notable exceptions) struggle to get their music performed and embraced by even the most seasoned and experienced concert goers. It came as no surprise to read – in the program notes – that Mr. Pelosi, who has earned his livelihood as a self-employed piano technician, has been self-initiating and self-funding his own showcases throughout the years. No pretense here, just a frank statement about the status quo: new music is a hard sell, and composers are lucky to find performers who are willing to invest their time and energy in bringing new pieces to life, as well as an audience who has the interest to buy tickets… I suppose Mr. Pelosi can count himself among the lucky ones, though – based on last night’s performance – with different degrees of success.

The concert was dedicated to the late Joe Patrych, a well-known and much-loved producer and recording engineer, who died suddenly at the end of 2023 and is very much missed by his (many) friends. The repertoire was exclusively for piano solo, and it was performed by Sharon Chang, Dominika Gacka and Mateusz Borowiak. Mr. Pelosi offered two sets of miniatures (twelve each), a short piano duet titled Six Tonal Studies and, as the big finale, the Piano Sonata No. 9. His music is filled with chromatic intricacies, occasionally borrowing from old techniques such as Baroque polyphony and canonic imitation, without a key signature but often revolving around a “central” key, which is usually marked in the score at the beginning of each piece (more as a stabilizing reference point than an actual tonal or harmonic adherence). The composer doesn’t shy away from contrasts, which he often employs in effective and surprising ways be it in the form of dynamics, meter, or use of registers. The texture can get busy, but there is a certain clarity of purpose which breaks through the more complicated passages. Every now and then, I detected some Eastern European influences (more than once I recalled Bartók) but perhaps some of this was reflecting my own heritage. 

In the first piece on the program, pianist Sharon Chang seemed very careful to convey every indication found in the music score. Unfortunately, she also overused the pedal, which led to some lack of clarity and a more opaque color palette than this music deserves. Some of the melodic lines got drowned and I wished for more suppleness in some of the miniatures; instead, what should have been flying high was a bit earth-bound. The music seemed to offer more opportunities for nuance than the performer conveyed. 

In a most puzzling manner, Ms. Chang followed the Pelosi piece with a rendition of Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantaisie,Op. 61. I am totally unable to decipher the reason for this pairing, other than the pianist’s love for this particular Chopin opus. (A set of Bach three-part Inventions would have been, in my opinion, a much more logical and intriguing choice; even one of Ravel’s piano suites would have provided a more fitting musical partnership.) Sadly, she seemed to fight laboriously to get to the heart of this rather elusive masterpiece, which is a truly visionary work. While she has undeniable good fingers, Ms. Chang’s body language suggested that she was overwhelmed by Chopin’s challenges rather than rising above them.

The first half of the program concluded with Mr. Pelosi’s Twelve Vignettes, which I confess was my favorite among his compositions on this program. There is a lot of charm in these short splashes of color, and occasionally a pang of depth, such as in the surprising and moving No. 5 (For Dolores), which Ms. Chang performed beautifully.

After the intermission, we were treated to an excellent performance of Szymanowski’s superb suite Three Masques, Op. 34. The pianist, Mateusz Borowiak, clearly feels at home in this powerful and intricate piece, which made for a much better program companion to the Pelosi pieces than the Chopin of the first half. Mr. Borowiak impressed me with his knife-sharp tone, well-delineated levels, and seemingly endless variety of articulation. He played with energy and bravura, maybe lacking a bit in the soft dynamics range; especially in the first movement, Schéhérazade, I felt the need for more mystique. Sometimes he rushed and sacrificed humor to authority.

After the Szymanowski, Mr. Borowiak was joined by Dominika Gacka for a four-hand duet by Mr. Pelosi – the Six Tonal Studies. This was a wonderful, organic collaboration between two gifted young artists, who both connected with the music they were performing. The compositional format of these pieces was (for each one) an intriguing aller-retour between two keys, an idea I found original and beautifully realized.

The evening came to a close with Mateusz Borowiak’s rendition of the challenging Piano Sonata No. 9 by Louis Pelosi. Again, he performed with authority and precision, though I can’t help thinking that the piece requires perhaps more reflection on the part of the performer. There are moments of truly special writing (especially in the second and the last movements) through which the pianist seemed to sail rather than enjoy. The second movement’s Lento became almost Andantino, losing some of the magic with which Mr. Pelosi imbued the score. I felt that this music needs (and deserves) a more intimate, fragile quality. In the Finale, I could have used more difference between contrasting dynamics. However, the overall effect was powerful, convincing the listener that both the performer and the composer have something meaningful and urgent to communicate. 

I walked out of the concert hall wishing that Mr. Pelosi, and other composers of his caliber, would not need to always self-initiate opportunities for their work to be noticed and admired.

Chen Liang, pianist

Recorded, edited, and mastered by Zhen Qin and Jiarui Wang

Recorded at Chengdu City Concert Hall Recording Studio, Chengdu, China, December 28 and 29th, 2023

KNS Classical A/160

The label KNS Classical has released a recording of highly skillful Chinese-born pianist Chen Liang that includes two monuments of the piano literature framed by two new works by Chinese composers (including the performer, b. 1991). The CD opens with Chen Liang’s piece entitled Dream (premiered in 2023 at Carnegie Hall), then proceeds to Debussy’s Études, Book I, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, before closing with Impromptu – Dong’s Drumtower (1987) by Chen Liang’s fellow countryman Xianping Zou (b. 1951). Though dominated by the Debussy and Mussorgsky masterworks, this CD may be most memorable for its Chinese works, as they will be first hearings for many, and in what one can safely speculate may be the finest performances available.

Chen Liang’s Dream is a seemingly improvisatory creation of just under four minutes. Starting with solemn motifs centering on rising fourths over ruminative alternating chords, its phrases gradually extend and build to a more streaming, quasi-impressionistic section and tempestuous pianistic peak before receding to the opening material. Dream is a very accessible, evocative piece, bringing to mind some film scores by Joe Hisaishi and Michael Nyman, but with this pianist’s own personal stamp. It is described in his program notes (credited to Chen Liang with Junheng Chen) as “inspired by the composer’s bike expedition through the breathtaking landscapes of Tibet, particularly the dreamlike reflections of Lake Qinghai and Lake Namtso. The three-part structure reflects the three stages of the dream: from peacefulness to excitement, and from chaos back to calmness.”

The piece closes feeling poignantly unfinished, and that is appropriate, as Chen Liang is undoubtedly far from finished in terms of potential. There seems to be a considerable audience for such improvisatory pianistic styles these days, so Chen Liang will hopefully explore this compositional side of himself further, though his training seems quite focused on being a pianist. His biography lists the usual flurry of competition wins, as well as the requisite degrees. He has two Bachelor of Music degrees, one from Sichuan Conservatory of Music and one from Lynn University Conservatory of Music in Florida with the very distinguished pianist Roberta Rust, followed by MM and DMA degrees from Eastman under the illustrious Natalya Antonova.

The CD continues with Debussy’s Études, Book 1 (1915-16). This set has been heard in complete set recordings by some exceptional proponents – coming to mind as favorites are Walter Gieseking, Paul Jacobs, Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, Michel Béroff, and Mitsuko Uchida – but this listener’s credo with interpretations has generally tended to be, “the more the merrier.”

Chen Liang’s renditions certainly get high marks for accuracy and precision, note-wise, though they are not the most faithful to the score dynamically, and it seems that these pieces could have benefited from more nuance. From the very first Étude (pour les “cinq droits”), the sound struck one as startlingly robust throughout. Lest that be just for comedic effect in the first Étude, a Czerny send-up, your reviewer went ahead to hear the rest, ending up with a similar impression. Assuming such a sturdy sound might be a feature of the recording itself (made at Chengdu City Concert Hall Recording Studio, Chengdu, China), this reviewer listened again, with adjustments to volume, but it seemed that however high or low the volume level was set, there was a rather narrow dynamic range within each piece. Sections with ppp (pianississimo) markings were too often not contrasting enough dynamically from the forte passages that preceded or followed, and sometimes piano or pianissimo markings seemed ignored altogether. Though many consider these Études to be immense technical challenges for a pianist (and Debussy himself considered them so), part of their challenge is to handle all the leaping and legerdemain with the nuance – and frequently lightness – demanded in multiple markings. This listener wanted more of such moments, as marked. Certainly, if one were to set aside this objection, Chen Liang’s purely digital feats were impressive enough to promise an interesting pianistic life ahead for him.

Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition (1874), another masterpiece, has had a similarly storied past in performance and recordings, so one hoped there would be more gradation in this interpretation than in the Debussy. Fortunately, though there were still dynamic quibbles throughout, the overall tonal substantiality had its benefits here. There were harmonies that this listener had never truly analyzed inside and out, but here, because of the extreme clarity of each voice, those are now etched crisply into aural memory. The forte passages incidentally were never what one would call strident – this pianist is thankfully not a “pounder” – but each note was exposed such that one could take dictation from the performance. One reads in the biographical notes that Chen Liang has a minor in Theory, and perhaps that study has lent an analytical starkness to his thinking, but in any case, he realized the notation (apart from expressive markings) with surgical precision. For a student learning the piece and wanting to hear each note in perfect clarity, without overuse of pedal or tonal sacrifices made in the name of phrasing, this performance would be of special interest.

The CD closes with Impromptu: Dong’s Drumtower (1987)by Xiangping Zou. The program notes explain that it was inspired by the composer’s visit to a southwestern ethnic mountain village of the Dong people in China and specifically the “distinctive architecture of the drum tower” (once used as a defensive structure to alert the village of danger and now used solely for celebrations). The piece is also reported to be describing “an ordinary day of life in the village.” It is a fascinating work, reflecting an unusual blend of Eastern and Western elements, with typically folk-like fragments developed into a cohesive and dramatic whole, drawing on Western traditions. It clearly announces its Chinese background, but it has moments of Scriabinesque harmonies and jazz-like rhythms, all integrated into a unified language with remarkable naturalness. It is a worthy work to know, inviting repeated listening, and it certainly adds to the allure of this release – now available on YouTube, Spotify, Amazon, and iTunes.

Scandinavia House, New York, NY

October 17, 2024

On the same night when many music lovers flocked to Carnegie Hall for Daniil Trifonov’s latest recital, a smaller but very enthusiastic group filled up (quite literally) the Victor Borge concert hall at the Scandinavia House, for the piano recital of Daniel Gortler. Mr. Gortler, an Israeli-American pianist with an impressive résumé, used this evening as a launching event for his latest recording – a selection of twenty-one Lyric Pieces by Edvard Grieg (of which he only performed twelve at this event). Based on what I’ve heard, I am tempted to purchase the CD and enjoy more of this pianist’s refined playing.

As we were informed in the program, the instrument on which Mr. Gortler performed belonged initially to Victor Borge, and is on loan to the Scandinavia House through the generosity of Borge’s grandson. Perhaps as a nod to the irreverent former owner, Mr. Gortler appeared wearing zipper-pocket pants and white sneakers. I’m not entirely convinced that his outfit complemented the beautifully curated program, and I feel that a fashion statement such as this  would have seemed more natural on a budding young artist, rather than a seasoned musician. 

The program included Schumann’s Kinderszenen, followed by selections from Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words and, as the centerpiece of the evening, Grieg’s Lyric Pieces. This is what I would call a “Maestro’s program,” one which evokes the last recitals of Horowitz and Rubinstein, favoring deceivingly “easier” pieces over the big war-horses of the piano repertoire. Of course, such a selection is in fact one of the most demanding an artist can put forward, and requires a tremendous amount of depth and an almost magical ability to enthrall and hypnotize an audience. I cannot say that Daniel Gortler has reached yet that level of artistry, but throughout the evening, there were glimpses of a great talent, and of a genuine musician of the kind we sometimes label as “the real thing.”

The Schumann cycle was, in my opinion, the least successful of the evening. In a truly outstanding rendition, these pieces possess a delicate wonderment with which a young child looks at the world; somewhat paradoxically, it is usually the older and very wise performers who are able to capture such purity and simplicity. Mr. Gortler has a beautiful and warm tone, but he tends to complicate the phrasing with a (too) generous use of rubato and a dubious appetite for “discovering” new inner voices which sometimes take over the main melodic line (particularly bothersome in Blind Man’s Bluff and Pleading Child). In the first, iconic movement, Of Foreign Lands and Peoples, the accompaniment occasionally drowned the melody and the result was fussy and lacking simplicity. The bombastic arm movements made An Important Event perhaps a tad too important. Still, the pianist found beautiful colors in Dreaming and Child Falling Asleep. Some of the crescendos grew too abruptly and led to banging, such as in Knight of the Hobby-Horse. The last piece, the almost metaphysical The Poet Speaks, presented some interesting colors but failed to raise above notes, phrases, and dynamics.

With the selection of twelve Songs Without Words, Mr. Gortler seemed to warm up, both technically and musically. His wonderful articulation was evident in several of the pieces and it was clear that he connects on an emotional level with these works. In the Venetian Gondola Song he pulled us into a magical world of sound and imagery and Op. 85, No.3, was imbued with genuine urgency and a winged feeling! In the Duetto Op. 38,No.6, Mr. Gortler found just the right individuality for each partner of the conversation. With the fiery Op. 62, No.2, the pianist reached a passionate finale which, in spite of some inaccuracies, was beautifully voiced and gracefully soaring.

Although Daniel Gortler has recorded all the pieces presented on this program, at some point or another, it was clear that the Lyric Pieces by Grieg were the freshest and sharpest in his fingers. I found his interpretations refreshingly spontaneous, unaffected, and beautifully poetic. In Arietta we were treated to the touch of a true master, and the famous March of the Dwarfs revealed an intoxicating sense of humor and excellent dramaturgical sense. In the beautiful Melody Op. 47, No.3,  the pianist found some of the simplicity and magic that eluded him in the Schumann cycle. In Butterflies he created a compelling visual, basking in light and shadow. Mr. Gortler was at his very best in At the Cradle, where he found a tenderness and warmth that are seldomly heard in live performances; he worked with a wide palette of colors and conjured quite a bit of magic. I was very impressed by his sensitivity to harmonic changes, as displayed in Solitary Traveller, and – although marred by some imperfections – he truly made the Brooklet come alive in a vivid tableau. With Summer’s Eve, Mr. Gortler evoked an almost olfactory experience, reminiscent of some of Debussy’s Preludes. Puck was suitably playful, and the final piece on the program, Notturno Op. 54, No.4, was a fitting finale to an evening of sound poetry (the short Schumann encore not withstanding).

Qianwen Shen, Violin; Bihan Li, Violin; Alexandrina Boyanova, Viola; Valeriya Sholokhova, Cello; Juan Esteban Martinez, Clarinet; Guilherme Andreas, Flute; Fangtao Jiang, Soprano; Jiahao Han, Piano

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 7, 2024

Meng Wang Music presented a concert benefiting the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp at Weill Hall on Monday evening. Featuring the works (all world premieres) of seven young composers (aged thirteen to seventeen) who are part of the Meng Wang music program, it was a showcase of emerging talents for a worthy cause.

Meng Wang Music is a New York-based institute founded by composer Meng Wang. The institute offers young composers (Grades 3-12) instruction, intensive training, performance opportunities, and publishing and distribution. The Hole in the Wall Gang Camp was founded by legendary actor and philanthropist Paul Newman in 1988. It is a nonprofit 501(c)(3) organization, residential summer camp, and year-round center serving children and their families coping with chronic illnesses such as cancer, sickle cell disease and many others.

One could not help but be impressed by the keepsake program, with portraits of the seven young composers on the cover and the extensive biographical information, not only of the composers, but all of the musicians as well. There were also thoughtful program notes for each work, which I am assuming were written by the composers for their respective works.

Let me stipulate before going on that these youngsters are all remarkably gifted, and their promise for the future is something that can and should be looked forward to with great anticipation. They are finding their voices, and it is not a shock that one can hear the influences of the “greats” (i.e., Haydn, Beethoven, and Shostakovich), and the at times almost formulaic development arcs. This is not meant to be a criticism, as the skill exhibited in getting even to that level is something many much older composers have struggled with – and with arguably less success. It was also notable that the line-up of musicians was made up of highly experienced players with impressive credentials, who deserve praise for their committed performances. Composers of any age would have been delighted to have these musicians play their works. I will list the names of the performers: Qianwen Shen, violin; Bihan Li, violin; Alexandrina Boyanova, viola; Valeriya Sholokhova, cello; Juan Esteban Martinez, clarinet; Guilherme Andreas, flute; Fangtao Jiang, soprano; and Jiahao Han, piano.

Now that the background information has been covered, it is time to talk about the compositions. The Art of Dunhuang by Chungyiu Mark Ma (b. 2008) opened the concert. It is a three-movement piece (1: Sanctum, 2: Echoes in Motion, 3: Eternal Wisdom) for solo clarinet and bass clarinet (the second and third movements are for the bass clarinet). It was probably the most “modern” work on the program. With the idiomatic exploration of the instrument’s possibilities (especially the bass clarinet), and the use of extended techniques, it reminded this listener of Edison Denisov’s works for clarinet.

Chronicle of Emergence, for solo piano, by Ella Bao (b. 2010) was up next. This two-movement work (1: Yin yang, 2: Awakening Gallop) features highly interesting harmonic language that danced on the edge of tonality without ever crossing into atonality. The second movement, Awakening Gallop, at times flirted with sarcasm, but never went completely in that direction.

Tiffany Qianzun Zhao (b. 2008) had two works on the program, Late June, for flute and piano, and Swaying Hope, for piano quintet, clarinet, flute, and soprano, which closed the program. Her style is unabashedly tonal, and she writes with an expansive sense of beauty and color. It is refreshing to hear a young person wholeheartedly embrace what some would call “reactionary” writing, and I hope she stays on this path. There is enough strife in our world as Ms. Zhao writes – she wants to be a voice for a peaceful and beautiful world. Late June has a sweet, pastoral quality. Swaying Hope takes inspiration from Bob Dylan. It was a highly poignant work, with not only lush sounds, but also tinged with nostalgic lament.

After intermission, Wanderer, for clarinet, violin, cello, and piano, by Athena Zhang (b. 2007) opened the second half. It is an aptly named piece, with a quasi-improvisational feel, with the interplay and “passing” of melodic ideas around between the instruments. The piano writing was highly reminiscent of Bill Evans (who I greatly admire).

The next three works were all for string quartet. The first was Where the Shadow Falls, by William T. Wang (b.2011) . Mr. Wang’s composition is a throwback to an earlier time; it was if one stepped back into the 19^th century. I am reluctant to use the word prodigy, as that term has been overused to the point of stripping it of its true meaning, but one could make a case for Mr. Wang. Such fluid and assured writing , stylistically and harmonically, for a thirteen-year-old is truly astounding. My only reservation is that it seems very much “in the style of “ writing. I’m sure he will find his own voice, and the sky’s the limit.

Jixiu Josh Shi (b. 2007) offered Nature’s Suite in three movements ( 1: Water, 2: Trees, 3: Birds). Water was lyrical and flowing. Trees was a little diffuse in style, sometimes hinting at the 20th century and then back to the 19^th. Birds was clever, and one could easily hear the bird calls in it.

Reverie of Meadows, by Frederick Yip (b. 2007) was the final string quartet of the evening. Mr. Yip has developed a more distinct voice than most young composers – at least any influences were not overt. His writing is teeming with ideas, and he has a good grip on the interplay of the string quartet. He might have too many ideas, and some “tightening” would enhance his work.

At the end, all the composers (with the exception of Frederick Yip, who was not in attendance) joined all the performers and Meng Wang for a final bow. I look forward to following the progress of these young composers. Congratulations to all.

Chenyi Avsharian, violin; Rohan De Silva, piano; Simon Hagopian-Rogers, violin

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 5, 2024

This weekend at Zankel Hall violinist Chenyi Avsharian performed a program entitled “Boundless Horizons,” presenting some of the most well-loved showpieces ever composed or arranged for violin, with pianist Rohan De Silva collaborating and young violinist Simon Hagopian-Rogersjoining for three duets. There was, as the first half, Stephen Foster’s Old Folks at Home (arr. Jascha Heifetz), Sarasate’s Zapateado, Op. 23, No. 2, Mendelssohn’s Auf Flügeln des Gesanges, Op. 34, No. 2 (“On Wings of Song” arr. Jascha Heifetz), and Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst’s Fantasie Brillante sur la Marche et La Romance d’Otello de Rossini. After intermission, we heard three selections (I, III, and V) from Five Pieces for Two Violins by Shostakovich (arr. Levon Atovmyan), the Brahms Scherzo in C Minor (Sonatensatz), selections from Gershwin’s Porgy And Bess (tr. Jascha Heifetz), Piazzolla’s Le Grand Tango, “Mo Li Hua” (traditional Chinese folksong, tr. by Chenyi Avsharian), and Franz Waxman’s Carmen Fantasie to close.

Looking at the selections in advance was like seeing a delightful menu of mostly desserts for the listener – though some mountainous challenges for the violinist. It could almost have been presented as a Jascha Heifetz tribute, given most of the works’ histories with a few exceptions, but in any case, it all demanded Heifetzian virtuosity. Ms. Avsharian, whose credits include winning the Gold Medal in the China International Violin Competition in 2008, was as fit for it as anyone could be. Beneath her modest demeanor onstage, she is a force – a powerhouse performer.

All of the works required masterful technique, but the Ernst and Waxman opera fantasies are replete with so many over-the-top demands that generally just one such piece might crown a program – so Ms. Avsharian is to be congratulated for conquering two of these with such aplomb. More musically memorable moments included the nostalgic phrases of the Foster opening (sometimes called “Swanee River”), the feather-light Zapateado, which had just the right danceable feel all through its pyrotechnics, the intensely bracing Brahms Sonatensatz, and two of the three Shostakovich duets, Prelude and Elegy, introducing talented young violinist Simon Hagopian-Rogers. All of these were well-chosen for audience accessibility, including the three Shostakovich movements, about which Itzhak Perlman once quipped before a performance, “This is Shostakovich without the bitterness or the cynicism, just sweet Shostakovich … maybe he was four years old.” Ha! Of course, there is great depth to be found in them, and Ms. Avsharian and her duo partner relayed it beautifully.

Also of note was the traditional Chinese folk song “Mo Li Hua” (“Jasmine Flower” – estimated to be from the early 1700s, though some say centuries earlier). It has been adapted by many since its discovery, including by Puccini and Tan Dun, and it was played here in a transcription by Ms. Avsharian herself, as a piece she describes as very dear to her personally. It was played with melting beauty. It is so famous among Chinese audiences that some in the hall took the liberty of singing along with it, though with such a heartfelt rendering, one half-wished to hear the violin unaccompanied!

Beyond Ms. Avsharian’s performing gifts, she is a leader at Shar Music and NeuralTones, the latter being a non-profit that, according to the promotional materials, “is committed to exploring the connection between music and brain function and enhancing music education for underserved children.” We had been informed that the event would be “combining live performance with artist commentary and multimedia projections to illustrate how our brains process and respond to music” – so one expected an alternation between music and commentary, with some multimedia additions where appropriate. Admittedly, that would have been a tall order extending the length of the program, but the decision for them to be simultaneous created a different challenge.

Instead of intermittent spoken commentary, there were images projected on a large screen behind the performers all through their performances, some including text about the music and composers, and some showing fleeting brain images (AI-enhanced?) with colors pulsating according to neural responses to music as demonstrated in various electroencephalograms (EEGs). Understandably, these were meant to help grasp the mission of NeuralTones, but this listener found such “meta-musical” additions to be doing a disservice to the live music, which warrants our complete attention. It has been well-documented that music stimulates the brain, but music deserves to be valued and savored on its own. Does it enhance the experience of haute cuisine to watch slides of the food pyramid or lingual papillae – while dining?

In addition, some neural images labeled “happy” and “sad” and cartoons with thought balloons intruded, striking one as uncomfortably limiting compared to what a free listener can notice and feel. It seemed even to contradict the advertising of the Boundless Horizons program, which professes to be “Embodying freedom and limitlessness.” Though projected images pertaining to the libretti behind the transcriptions seemed generally more justified – i.e., Carmen and Otello – program notes would have sufficed less distractingly. While printed program notes can often be superficial as well (and having one’s head in program notes can detract from a concert experience too) at least printed notes can be ignored, while projected images necessarily become part of the experience. This listener, for one, having been assigned to review the concert as a whole, could not ignore them.

There were moments when even the performers seemed to be distracted. The generally superb Ms. Avsharian suffered some moments of iffy intonation in the Brahms, and the languor of Gershwin’s “Summertime” felt lost. Even the generally expert playing of Mr. De Silva seemed a bit rushed in the Piazzolla (was he trying to keep up with visual projections?), and all was less than focused at the start of the Carmen Fantasy.

Alas, we have now become a multitasking world. Though of course good teachers offer stories and artworks to bring life and context to music for the uninitiated and the young, those are ideally part of readiness prior to unfettered listening. Ultimately, great music is enough, in and of itself. On a side note, if we are showcasing neuroscience, it should also be considered that there is mounting evidence supporting a causal relationship between multitasking and anxiety, depression, and a host of other woes – and it would be sad to see concerts adding to that. Undoubtedly, that was not intended, but hopefully, with sensitivity, NeuralTones’ dual missions of research and education will bear fruit in the world without diminishing returns in the concert hall.

The impulse to bridge gaps, regardless of method, was nonetheless appreciated  – and the audience applauded with great fervor at the concert’s end.

Modus Operandi Orchestra and Tutti Music Collective Choir

Justin Bischof, Conductor

Ciarán Nagle, Irish Tenor; Ken Field, Alto Saxophone; Rachel J. Burckardt, piano & electric guitar; Diana Fischer, piano;

Darby Clinard, mezzo-soprano; Kayleigh Bennett, mezzo-soprano; Phil Neighbors, drums; Blake Newman, double bass

Recital Hall at SUNY Purchase Performing Arts Center

September 28, 2024

Ever since Brahms composed A German Requiem in the German language to a Lutheran text, composers have been adapting the traditional Roman Catholic Requiem Mass to more modern conceptions of musical styles and textual freedom. Increasingly in the 20^th century, composers began to deviate from the traditional order of the liturgy, picking and choosing which sections to set to music, and sometimes blending secular with sacred texts. Benjamin Britten’s 1961 War Requiem intersperses movements from the traditional Latin text with poems of Wilfred Owen, who was killed in World War I. Stravinsky’s 1966 Requiem Canticles is a twelve-tone setting of a fifteen-minute version of the Mass for the Dead. John Tavener’s 2006 Requiem mixes traditional Roman Catholic texts with the Upanishads and the Koran. Karl Jenkins’s 2005 Requiem mixes the Japanese language together with Latin.

One recent manifestation of this break from the strictures of the past is the increasing use of crossover elements from pop genres and light classical music in newer requiems, particularly the Requiems of John Rutter and Andrew Lloyd Webber, composed in the mid-1980s and widely performed. Some have termed this new genre “Sacro-Pop” although its real progenitor is arguably Leonard Bernstein’s 1971 Mass. Rock beats are common to newer arrangements of traditional hymns in Catholic missalettes and other hymnals.

Actually, contemporary “sacro-pop” composers may enjoy the largest audiences of any contemporary composers. Marty Haugen, a Lutheran who has worked as a musician in the Catholic church, may be the most performed composer in America. His Mass of Creation is played, sung, and heard by millions worshipping every Sunday (I myself have performed it countless times as an organist.) Such widely performed secular choral composers as Morton Lauridsen and Eric Whitacre subsume lighter classical styles into their sacred works, while many other composers (even priest-composers like Michael Joncas), writing like Karl Jenkins, have brought jazz, rock beats, and minimalism into church service music, at times blending it with traditional gospel.

Rachel J. Burckardt fits in this mold. She is a Boston-based civil engineer who has been a committed liturgical musician (singer and instrumentalist) at St. Cecilia’s Parish in Cambridge, Massachusetts for some forty-five years. She is also a prolific composer of mass parts and sacred songs for the Roman Catholic Mass, and a transgender Catholic (preferring the pronoun she) who transitioned in mid-life after years of marriage and parenthood. This all-Burckardt concert featured the New York debut of her forty-five-minute Mount Auburn Requiem (for orchestra, chorus, and Irish tenor), and also included four short quasi-sacral chamber works. The New York-based Modus Operandi Orchestra was conducted (as was the chorus, the Tutti Music Collective Choir) with a sure hand by its artistic director Justin Bischof, a highly gifted organ improviser and experienced conductor of both church and secular music.

It was evident from this concert that both Ms. Burckardt’s sacred music and her secular concert music are a seamless blend embodying eclectic styles, genres, and crossover. The first work on the program, For Elaine and Steve, written for her son’s wedding, was arranged for the Revolutionary Snake Ensemble, a combo of alto sax (Ken Field), drums (Phil Neighbors), and bass (Blake Newman), joined here by piano (the composer). With repeating loops and grooves on the piano, the saxophone took the lead in a New Age, easy listening jazz idiom that would have been at home in a club setting. The saxophone was amplified through loudspeakers on stage (more about that later). Next came a short setting of the Ave Maria for mixed chorus: pleasant, consonant, well-crafted choral writing, well sung (if with a ragged ensemble moment or two) by the aforementioned Tutti Music Collective Choir, a Boston-based group that strives to perform LGBTQ and BIPOC composers.

Heal Me With Your Care, with textadapted from Psalms 34 and 121,was set for two mezzo-sopranos (Darby Clinard and Kayleigh Bennett) and orchestra, and reminded me a little of the soprano-mezzo-soprano duet in the Agnus Dei of Verdi’s Requiem. Both mezzos were uni-miked through the loudspeakers, and though they sang not just in unison but in part writing, it was hard to tell their voices apart. Though the intent was to spotlight their singing, the instrumental texture, or the sound design, or both, muddied both the diction and the overall orchestral/voice blend. The Revolutionary Snake Ensemble returned for Ascendance, which reverted to the soft rock/modal jazz idiom, with supporting repeating grooves and an apparently improvised section for the saxophone and drums.

Before the performance of her Mount Auburn Requiem in D minor, Ms. Burckardt explained in remarks to the audience that she wrote it to memorialize her deceased high school classmates from the Class of 1972 at Albertus Magnus, a parochial high school in Rockland County, New York. Like a true Baby Boomer, she cited the 1974 Rolling Stones song “Time Waits for No One” as a co-inspiration for this memorialization and implied that the song was quoted in her Requiem (though I didn’t pick it up listening). The text for the Mount Auburn Requiem (Mount Auburn is the name of a cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts) followed an eight-section liturgy of her own design: Introit; Kyrie; Lacrimosa; Carmine sine Verbis; Sanctus; Agnus Dei; In Paradisum; and Vale in Sempiternum. Several of the eight were subdivided into episodes that followed both liturgical tradition and a few select textual innovations of her own. The sung text combined English with Latin.

With the Introit and Kyrie our ears were immediately transported into the familiar, agreeable harmonic territory of Ernest Bloch, solemnized sacro-pop, and film scores of Biblical epics. An alto saxophone solo was amplified through the loudspeakers over the orchestra at the same moment the concertmaster was giving her all to a moving violin solo which as a result was lamentably drowned out. Some of the chords and part writing of the choir and the orchestra worked well together, others seemed not to mesh or were awkwardly dissonant in the overall consonant idiom. The Kyrie was an attractive homage to the block chords of Carmina Burana, devolving into the accompanimental filler of repeated loops and grooves and occasional hints of rock beats.

The Lacrimosa was one of the most successful musical movements. It “landed.” The passing tones didn’t sound oddly random but rather functionally dissonant. There was a good use of the tubular bells and timpani as atmospheric color. Here Ms. Burckardt wrote a solo for cello, and this time it was supported by a light texture and came through well.

The four-part Songs without Words (Carmine sine Verbis) was an innovation. An affecting viola solo was taken over by the cellos, then by the tutti (i.e., not just the Tutti Music Collective Choir). Though the opening material overstayed its welcome, the introduction in the fourth song of the Mount Auburn Aire, Ms. Burckardt’s original Irish-style tune, was haunting, and well set for flute solo and violin drone, with the flute part knowingly written with the characteristic ornamentation of the sean-nós (“in the old way”) of Irish traditional singing. (The composer told the audience during her remarks that her mother was Irish Catholic.)

The Sanctus was also attractive, but by the time we got to the Agnus Dei, too many melodic, rhythmic, and harmonic gestures were being recycled from previous movements. The Agnus Dei commenced solemnly in the minor key, not always the conventional musical choice for a Lamb of God, but switched to major for parts of it. The most affecting parts of In Paradisum for me were, again, the appearance of Irish airs: the well-known traditional ballad Slane, and a reprise of Burckardt’s own Mount Auburn Aire, once again lightly scored and with the sean-nós ornamentation. I thought the Irish tunes were the most moving and striking moments of the Requiem and wished there had been more elaboration of them. I waited vainly for the Irish tenor soloist, Ciarán Nagle, to break in with a vocal line ornamented like sean-nós–a missed opportunity for the composer’s creative invention.

But by the time the Requiem reached its conclusion with Vale in Sempiternum, Ms. Burckardt again fell back into recycling the same D minor chords, riffs, and grooves already iterated through the previous several movements. The effect became too static. The too many chimes entries, meant to toll like funeral bells, lost freshness as a gesture, as did the timpani strokes. And more creative variety of keys, modes, and some modulations would have helped give the three-quarters of an hour of music more purchase on the ear.

Throughout the concert, an unfortunate impediment to appreciation of Ms. Burckardt’s music was a fuzz or buzz on the sound (at least from where I was sitting near the front), which I interpreted as an unintended artifact of the multi-microphone set-up on stage (apparently for recording the live performance) and the decision to amplify the saxophone and the vocal soloists through onstage loudspeakers, always a risky bet for clarity. Microphoning the soloists in this case seemed to ensnare adjacent orchestral instruments and redundantly play them back over their natural acoustic projection, a feedback loop which clotted up the texture and was confusing to the ear. It was hard to tell if Mr. Nagle’s singing didn’t land because of the ambient recording set-up, because the composer hadn’t written his vocal part robustly enough, because he didn’t sing out, or because he was under-miked.

It was clear, though, that while Ms. Burckardt wrote effectively for solo instruments accompanied by light textures, she handled full textures of the orchestra less felicitously. The orchestra played well, but transparent orchestration was lacking. The Tutti Music Collective Choir did not always sound as present and forward in the overall acoustic as they should have, although at times their singing was quite lovely. The most vigorously impressive performer of the evening was alto saxophonist Ken Field, and I also admired the gutsy playing of the violin leader Keiko Tokunaga.

Nevertheless this concert was an impressively large and courageous effort to put forward the creative profile of a composer.

Carlos Gardels, piano

Recording: Matthew Snyder at Allegro Recording (6)

Paul Tavenner at Big City Recording Studios (1, 3-5, 7-10, 12);

Hideaway Recording Studios (2, 11)

Mastering: Paul Tavenner

MSR Classics: MS1847

2024

Though many speculate that classical music CDs are going the way of the dinosaur, new evidence to the contrary has been added to this reviewer’s assignments, the debut CD of young pianist Carlos Gardels on MSR Classics (MS1847). It is an actual physical CD, and cheers to that, as this musician is still a fan of holding one in hand as part of the listening ritual. It comes with a booklet, for which the artist (a published writer himself) has contributed some illuminating notes. There is much to praise in this release, which includes six Nocturnes of Chopin and selections by Debussy, but first, a bit about Mr. Gardels is in order.

When one hears the name Carlos Gardels, one probably thinks of the French-Argentine tango composer Carlos Gardels (1890 -1935) – but let there be no confusion, as this young American artist seems destined to add new resonance to the name. A Los Angeles native, the pianist Carlos Gardels made his concerto debut at age 15 as a soloist in the Rachmaninoff Third Concerto with the Pasadena Youth Orchestra. His formal education was at the Manhattan School of Music and Indiana University Bloomington, with principal teachers HakSoon Swiatkowski, Jeffrey Cohen, Émile Naoumoff, and Neil Stannard, as well as mentors David Dubal, Cyprien Katsaris, and Ruth Slenczynska. He made his debut appearance in Carnegie’s Weill Recital Hall in 2016 and has performed widely in the US, Europe, and Asia. His distinctions include prizes from the National Society of Arts and Letters, the Los Angeles International Liszt Competition, and the Young Musician’s Foundation, and he has also taught internationally, from Shanghai to Citrus College in California, where he currently resides. For composition, he has studied with Ian Krouse at the University of California, Los Angeles, and his compositions include Three Fantasies for solo piano, published in 2022 by Theodore Presser to favorable reception by students, artists, and the press.  

One might ask why even mention Mr. Gardel’s composing when his debut CD includes only Chopin and Debussy rather than any of his own compositions, but his playing has a probing quality that goes a bit deeper than the typical output of young pianists today, making that aspect feel relevant. His CD is neither of the “wholesale” single-composer sort nor of the motley debut sampler kind that could be called “pieces I play well” – rather, there has been genuine thought involved in a Chopin-Debussy connection, through both the selections and the performances, ranging from very early works to very late ones of both composers.  Mr. Gardels supports this musical connection in his program notes, citing Debussy’s documented love for Chopin, his editing of Chopin for the Durand publishing house, and his comment on “Chopin’s art of breathing with the pedal.” It is the playing itself, though, that persuades a listener – and thankfully these performances have no whiff of the didactic about them, simply a projection of kinship and musical evolution.

The first work on the CD, Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9, No. 1 in B-flat minor, blooms thanks to Mr. Gardel’s fearless use of pauses and agogics for expressive emphasis – along with the occasional slight roll (or just a bit of left-hand preceding right hand) as he savors specially chosen moments. There is more than a touch of “old school” expressivity here, and one wants to cheer for a player who is not straitjacketed by metronomes and such, as with many players today. Though some could argue that Mr. Gardels is a bit overly generous with lingering and rubati at times (as they can lose potency with recurrence), there seems to be justification in most cases – as if a tour guide were saying “Wait, listen to this.” The recorded sound throughout (from multiple sessions, 2021-2024) is warm and live, but not overbearing.

The tracks that follow offer similarly warm and inviting playing, with singing phrases and skillful dynamic gradations. The Chopin Nocturne Op. 15, No. 2, in F-sharp major is particularly winsome in its feeling of inevitability. Here, Mr. Gardels seems to let the piece unfold on its own, minimizing any sense of interpretive will being imposed upon it.

Both Nocturnes from Op. 27 (C-sharp minor and D-flat major) follow. In the C-sharp minor, Mr. Gardels again lets the drama unfold naturally. When all turns to major mode towards the end, the colors are captured with such melting beauty that a listener has the sense of experiencing it for the first time – a major accomplishment in such a standard work of the piano literature. Mr. Gardels clearly has deep feelings for these works, and they are transmitted directly to the listener. The D-flat Nocturne is played compellingly as well.

The Nocturnes from Op. 62 (B major and E major) follow, representing the late days in Chopin’s oeuvre. The breathtaking B Major Nocturne is handled with intense care, particularly evident in the infamous trilled melody.  In the E Major Nocturne, the liberty may strike a listener at first as a bit too much, almost approaching schmaltz, yet there is sufficient restraint in contrasting sections to help recapture the perfect sense of proportion in retrospect. The whole must be taken into account, and Mr. Gardel’s interpretations do emerge as well-conceived wholes.

The placement of Debussy next in this CD offers a welcome balance, with the Suite Bergamasque feeling like a natural extension of what precedes, but with new colors. The first movement, Prélude, is played in such a way as to illustrate the kinship with Chopin that the liner notes put forward – but with the clear beginnings of Debussy’s own distinct language. The famous Clair de Lune here is captivating as well, again encouraging the listener to listen to a standard work as if for the first time. Mr. Gardels takes time to savor the aftersound of his phrases, leading us to do the same. It has already been mentioned that the pauses preceding some special moments are illuminating, but this pianist also allows sufficient time after such moments to let the listener absorb their magnitude. Passepied closes the suite with just the right delicacy, crispness, and suavity, and to round off the program the CD offers a Prélude and Étude. The Prélude La fille aux cheveux de lin thrives with this pianist’s special tenderness, and the Étude Pour les arpèges composés, arguably one of the more Chopinesque of the Études, is played with artful delineation of harmonic surprises and turning points.

To those with a notion that the genius Debussy sprung forth out of some sort of spontaneous generation, this CD may inspire some rethinking. In addition, at just under 59 minutes, it offers the listener a very accessibly curated selection of two great composers, Chopin and Debussy, played with remarkable sensitivity. The CD can be found here: MSR Classics: MS 1847 and here: Carlos Gardels: Debut Album.

Long Island Concert Orchestra (LICO)

Enrico Fagone, conductor

Alessandro Mazzamuto, piano

DiMenna Center for Classical Music, New York, NY

August 27, 2024

The Long Island Concert Orchestra (LICO), led by conductor Enrico Fagone, presented an All-Rachmaninoff program at the Dimenna Center for Classical Music this past Tuesday evening, with featured works being the Piano Concertos No. 2 and 3, and the 1887 Scherzo in D minor thrown in as an orchestral opener. Alessandro Mazzamuto was the piano soloist for both concerti.

Last year was the 150^th anniversary of Rachmaninoff’s birth, and there was a plethora of concerts dedicated to his music. Possibly the most notable (or notorious depending on your viewpoint) was Yuja Wang playing the four concerti and the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini with the Philadelphia Orchestra (Rachmaninoff’s favorite) in a single evening. This feat may be what has inspired numerous others to offer multiple Rachmaninoff concerti in a single evening (as Rachmaninoff himself did in 1939 in the famous “Rachmaninoff Cycle” concerts with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra), but this listener is of the opinion that does not always serve these works to maximum advantage.

LICO Composer-in-residence David Winkler offered his customary greeting to the audience at the beginning of the evening. Though he usually talks a bit about the works, a form of spoken program notes (with none printed), on this occasion he chose not to do so. I assume that he felt that the works are so well known that there is no real need to say anything. While one might say that regarding the concerti (though I would disagree), the Scherzo in D minor is virtually unknown, so it would have prepared listeners to have some background. First of all, it is Rachmaninoff’s earliest surviving composition for orchestra, composed when he was only fourteen (dedicated to his cousin Alexander Siloti and intended to be part of a larger work because it is headed “Third movement”), and it was first performed and published only after Rachmaninoff’s death. The model for the work is clearly the Scherzo from Felix Mendelssohn’s incidental music for Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and it is so overtly “Mendelssohn” that one would never guess “Rachmaninoff” if asked to name the composer. Though this short work (about five minutes) may be valued more historically than musically, Maestro Fagone and LICO played it with gusto.

Alessandro Mazzamutto took the stage for the Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18. The first thing that I noticed was music was being used with an iPad. While this seems to be a trend in recent times, one could not help thinking that this seemed a sign of incomplete preparation with such standard repertoire. Commitment to memory in such mainstream works is part of the internalizing process, which audiences can feel. Was the music there because of the difficulty of having to commit to memory two concerti to play in a single evening? Was it there from habit in preparation for recording sessions, which we learn are imminent? Only Mr. Mazzamutto would know the answer. He also continually picked up his handkerchief/cloth and would wipe the keyboard and dab at the keys, often doing so until moments before he was to play. I’m not sure if this was a nervous habit, but it was excessive to the point of distraction.

This listener has some strong opinions about this work, but nonetheless has enjoyed many performances that differed significantly. Performers need to exercise license in interpretation, which is what makes music interesting; there were, however, problems in this performance that cannot be attributed to license. There was excessive rubato (especially the E-flat theme in the 1^st movement), clipping of phrases (especially at the top), labored passagework (entrance at the beginning of the 3^rd movement), missed opportunity to build drama (the ending of the cadenza in the 3^rd movement bordered on helter-skelter), and not enough projection in general.

When Mr. Mazzamutto did not take excessive liberties with the tempi, he demonstrated real artistry in some of the lovely themes that abound in this concerto. The 2^nd movement was especially well done. He brings an indisputable passion to the keyboard, but that same passion might be getting in the way of what he is trying to project. Whatever concerns this listener had, the audience gave Mr. Mazzamutto an immediate and animated standing ovation.

After intermission, Mr. Mazzamutto returned to play the Piano Concerto No.3 in D minor, Op. 30 (again with the score being used). What was immediately apparent was that his playing and conception were much more assured than they were in the 2^nd. Was this because he has had a longer relationship with the 3^rd, or was it because he dedicated more time to it in preparation? I suspect it was a combination of the two.

The projection issues, however, continued. Perhaps the Fazioli piano was a source of this problem, as it seemed that Mr. Mazzamutto was fighting the instrument. His choice of the ossia cadenza in the first movement suffered from this projection issue, and that struggle both lessened the grandeur and rendered it a bit blurry.  He did project a much better sense of drama, though, and a better building of the same than in the 2^nd. The lead-in to the third movement attacca was good, and he maintained that momentum throughout the third movement, building the excitement with confidence and skill. He thundered through the octaves that end this piece, finishing in triumph. The audience immediately leapt to their feet and gave him an even more enthusiastic ovation than they did for the 2^nd.

Some words about the conductor and orchestra are in order here. Maestro Fagone is an excellent communicator and collaborator with whom any soloist would be happy to perform. He expertly adjusted to the occasional unpredictability of the soloist and kept the orchestra in control. To be sure, there were some minor ensemble issues with the soloist, but these were correctly so quickly as to be almost unnoticeable. The playing of LICO was outstanding all evening. So many times a soloist is hitched to a less-than-stellar orchestra, and it mars everything, but LICO brought their “A-game” to these works. It was striking and made quite an impression on this listener.

As a general observation, I would be interested in hearing Mr. Mazzamutto play some less dense works that would fully take advantage of his passion and artistry.

After all this, as an encore, the 18^th variation from the Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini was played for the appreciative audience. A visibly moved Mr. Mazzamutto embraced the concertmaster, calling out to the audience “He is my brother!.” Maestro Fagone and Mr. Mazzamutto will be recording these concerti on September 3^rd – I wish them good luck and all success.

Azalea Kelley, piano

Church of the Transfiguration, New York, NY

August 14, 2024

Young Azalea Kelley is already a veteran recital artist and winner of many competitions in the United States and Canada, and has played at Weill, Merkin, Klavierhaus, Steinway Hall, and other distinguished venues in and out of New York City. She comes from a family of accomplished professional musicians and was formerly a student of violin and ballet as well. This recital was presented at the Church of the Transfiguration, familiarly known to New York history buffs as the Little Church Around the Corner, on the date of her 22^nd birthday. For an artist of her tender age, she is already a most impressive and mature player.

Ms. Kelley cuts a poised, graceful, and commanding figure at the keyboard. She plays the piano naturally, as if she were an aquatic life form diving into the water. Despite the strenuous and taxing program she chose, there never once appeared any sign of strain. She plays the instrument with fluid, effortless mechanics, yet has ample force and power, great clarity of fingerwork and attack, a steady, even sense of pulse, and a natural musicality of expression. There were no extraneous physical gestures, no reaching into the galleries for pure virtuoso “wow” effect, no facial contortions like too many of today’s headliners and strivers– just the music.

She opened her program with Beethoven’s 6^th Sonata in F Major, the second of his three Opus 10 sonatas for piano. In this performance she favored the Germanic Beethoven approach of a Rudolf Serkin or Wilhelm Backhaus: an emphasis on the declarative rhetoric and forward motion of the music rather than contemplative underlining or contrasting tinges of light-heartedness. She took most of the repeats. There were many sharply etched moments: a bracing subito sforzando at the sudden faux modulation in bar 16-18 of the first movement; a nicely “lived in” feeling to the fermata at bar 16 in the second movement with an extended damper pedal; and the entirety of the challenging last two pages of the third movement. There, in Beethoven’s jumble of speeding contrary motion passages and virtuoso double octave tremolos, she fearlessly executed the fingerwork with a razor clarity and balanced symmetry of the two hands that would have done credit to a young Pollini.

Next came Chopin’s F-sharp minor Polonaise, Opus 44, a grandiose work that has always existed as a kind of somber heroic twin to the familiar, sunnier A-flat, Opus 53. Ms. Kelley went all in on the thunderingly martial and darkly dramatic elements of this work, pounding out the rhythm without ever banging, cleanly articulating the two-octave right hand octave run in bar 54 as if she possessed the wrists of Horowitz in his performance of this piece. She gave a juicy grand pause to the E major caesura at bar 79 at the lead-in to the A minor “roll of drums” middle section, and then segued to the doppio movimento Mazurka section keeping the forward momentum, without the tension relenting. Not much sunlight in this interpretation, but it was rousing and exciting.

Ms. Kelley piled Pelion on Ossa by following the virtuosic Op. 44 with the equally demanding Opus 61 Polonaise-Fantasie, the last large work for piano that Chopin wrote (he barely composed for the last couple of TB-racked years of his life). Here she shifted gears in her musical approach and relaxed the straight line, giving the first page of the piece a spacious, recitative-like, improvisatory feel. Throughout the rest of the work she unhurriedly brought poetry and varied color to its moody episodes, then escalated to the work’s impassioned climax with some real excitement and abandon.

Until very recently, Mendelssohn’s Fantasy in F-Sharp minor, Op. 28, also known as “Sonate Écossaise” or “the Scottish Sonata”, was rarely placed on recital programs. The pianists of the grand manner era only played his Songs Without Words, Rondo Capriccioso, Scherzo, Op. 16 No. 2, or on occasion his Variations Serieuses. Horowitz, who programmed the latter, once told David Dubal in a radio interview that he thought Mendelssohn was “too neat” as a composer; the serialist Milton Babbitt, on the other hand, opined in an interview late in life that received musical opinion had been “unfair” to Mendelssohn. Today the Scottish Sonata appears regularly in recitals, and Azalea Kelley made a good case for it at the beginning of the second half of her program, marking the double bar ends of its first two movements with longer pauses than they are customarily given (though Mendelssohn wrote each a transitional bar of rest with a fermata, they are generally played attacca). She brought out the quasi-Schumannesque quality of the second movement, and hurtled through the Presto with clearcut yet vertiginous velocity.

Perhaps her most musically compelling performance of the evening, after the Polonaise-Fantasie, was the Chopin B-flat minor Sonata (Ms. Kelley explained in remarks spoken to her audience that Chopin had composed the Funeral March movement first, then the rest of the sonata.). After an exciting, dramatic first movement, she carried the passion into the second movement, but, in the second theme of this second movement, for my taste she made a mistake in pushing the pace and not endowing it with more rubato, delicacy, softer dynamics, and wistfulness of mood, to contrast it with the heroism and robust virtuosic chords and jumps of the first section. The last two movements, however, were triumphs– she brought a plaintive, weeping quality to the familiar opening theme of the funeral march, and the “toccata macabre” of the last movement was suitably sepulchral.

Throughout the recital Ms. Kelley’s playing of the left hand demonstrated an admirable clarity and definition. This has its potential pitfalls. At the beginning of the development section of the first movement of the Beethoven, Op. 10 No. 2 at bar 77, her left hand punched the eighth notes as if they were brass oom-pahs. On the other hand, during the one encore she played, Chopin’s Nocturne, Opus 9 No. 1, the left-hand accompanimental figures were beautifully voiced, gracefully dressing the cantilena of the right hand line without becoming overpresent in the texture. Throughout the evening she had moments where she played with great delicacy and pianissimo, but her playing might speak even more eloquently if she tried introducing those palette colors more consistently into her interpretations, and to use the damper pedal more sparingly in some contexts where the change of sonority might be telling. Perhaps she could afford to take a more plastic approach to tempo and phrasing without losing her basic strengths, and bring some of the rhapsodic and reposeful qualities of her performance of the Polonaise-Fantasie to other works as well.

It should be noted that Ms. Kelley was playing the church’s resident 92-key Bösendorfer, a piano previously owned by the famed conservative commentator William F. Buckley. The treble range was very bright and piercingly loud at times, while the lower midrange strings had a nasal quality. The four keys below the traditional lowest A (some Bösendorfers, have nine extra keys) enhance the sympathetic resonance of the rest of the strings and the plate and soundboard. They also enable the performance of some rare notes in the published literature. For example, Ferruccio Busoni asks for the written G natural below the bottom-most A in the penultimate measure of the fourth movement of his Indianische Tagebuch. The extra keys also make possible low notes that are theoretically implied in some standard repertoire. In the tumultuous bar 49 of Ravel’s Jeux d’Eau, the left hand ends a downward series of G sharps on the lowest A natural, the composer assuming that in the accompanying rush of sound the pitch will not be perceived as nonharmonic. On an extended range Bösendorfer, that note can be played as the harmonically intended G sharp below the range of the 88 key piano.

Bösendorfer, Steinway, or other instrument, it is clear that Ms. Kelley makes a wonderful, musical sound at the piano, and her future is worth watching.

by Mark N. Grant for New York Concert Review; New York, NY