Andrew Harrison, saxophone; Jason Lo, piano

Bargemusic, Brooklyn, NY

September 15, 2023

Friday, September 15, saxophonist Andrew Harrison played a program of new music with pianist Jason Lo at Bargemusic in Brooklyn, as the opening concert for a set of similarly tantalizing programs entitled “Eclectic Series.” I am happy to report that this concert lived up fully to the name of the series, boding well for the others (listed partially at the Bargemusic website: Bargemusic). This particular program was entitled “Imaginary Folksongs” for Saxophone and Piano, deriving its name from a featured composition of that name by Stephen Lias.

What first struck this reviewer was the personable style of the duo, joking about their flights to New York (presumably from California where they both teach) and about the airline losing some luggage. For outreach concerts, this duo would be a presenter’s dream with their approachable style and low-key ad-libbing. Though there were just biographies of the performers on the program, no notes on the program itself (something that might have been easily handled by these two performers, both with doctorates), Dr. Harrison mostly made up for that with some brief spoken introductions; printed notes, however, would still have been welcome!

Though their stage presence was “low-key” their playing was high voltage. Their first three selections from Imaginary Folksongs (2014) by Stephen Lias opened the concert with energy and brilliance. In Titania’s Bower, High in the Andes, and Bonnie-Bye, there are no actual folksongs referenced, but that is where the word “Imaginary” comes to the fore. The modally-inflected Titania’s Bower evokes a sense of the fairy queen of Ovid and Shakespeare dancing her way into a technicolor dreamscape, one foot in reassuringly traditional meters and tonality, while also exploring more adventurous musical territory. It was given a marvelous performance by Dr. Harrison on soprano sax, the instrument for all of the first three Lias pieces performed here. Pianist Jason Lo shone especially in the second piece, High in the Andes, with tonal colors that conveyed its melancholy well. (One had already had a hint of Dr. Lo’s coloristic bent from strains of his Ravel Ondine as he warmed up in the hall shortly before starting, but here he confirmed his fine collaborative sensitivity). The third piece, Bonnie Bye, was pure fun in its jaunty suggestion of highland dance, though, if there were any actual Scottish tunes in there, they seemed highly flavored by Poulenc and those of his milieu. This whole set has been embraced by a fair number of saxophonists – and it is no wonder, as it has immediate appeal and is brimming with lyricism – but one can hardly imagine the set being played better than it was by this duo.

Next on the program were Three Negro Spirituals (originally for violin) by Florence Price, recast for saxophone by Andrew Harrison. There has been something of a resurgence in programs of the music of Florence Price (1887-1953), and in all kinds of arrangements, but these were the first I’d heard for saxophone and piano. Arrangements of O Holy Lord, Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child, and Lord I Want to be a Christian were given respectfully minimal treatment and played with tenderness.

Returning to Imaginary Folksongs by Stephen Lias, the duo played Magic Island, Song of Light, and The Three Jolly

Pigeons – now with alto saxophone. In contrast to the earlier three pieces, these employ some extended techniques – including percussive effects, pitch bending, and air sounds – all carried out expressively by Dr. Harrison. The exotic atmosphere of Magic Island was especially enhanced by these effects. Dr. Lo achieved more of his sensitive shading in the Song of Light, with his gentle whole-tone patterns setting the perfect backdrop for Dr. Harrison’s long-breathed lines. The Three Jolly Pigeons concluded the set with zest and humor.

More lyricism of a meditative sort came next in the piece Journey (2008) by Lori Laitman. Lori Laitman is best known for her vocal music, but the story goes that she had written Journey as a song before the poet withdrew the poem – at which point she arranged it for saxophone and piano. Interestingly, there is a growing body of music that has been recast after being set to particular poems that became no longer available – one notable example being an Eric Whitacre setting of Robert Frost. The moral to composers seems to be, “inspiration first, details later.” In any case, the vocal world’s loss is the saxophone world’s gain in this moving work, which the duo played with devotion.

The program’s biggest virtuoso showpiece Rhapsody on Japanese Folksongs by Ryota Ishikawa, followed. Sailing through a panoramic range of moods and an encyclopedic array of trills and slides and tricks, the duo relished each one of these with ease. It was what could have been a perfect bravura close, but was capped off gently by what amounted to a programmed encore in the lovely miniature Lilac Tears (2022) composed by Jennifer Jolley. Ms. Jolley was present to acknowledge the receptive audience. The piece was, we are told, inspired by a Prince performance in 2004 of George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” at Harrison’s posthumous induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It was a dreamy close, after which Dr. Harrison invited the audience to “hang out” and ask questions. Of course, inquiring minds being the way they are, the first question was about what happened to the duo’s luggage. If the readers wish to know, they’ll simply have to be in the audience at the duo’s next performance!

Speaking of audience, the sparse attendance at this high-level performance struck one as almost criminal. Though Bargemusic is a bit off the beaten path, it has established a fine track record since its founding in 1977. If the hindrance for some is cost, they even have an admission-free series called “Music in Motion.” It is definitely worth exploring!

Jiwon Han, piano

Chopin–Ballade No. 4 in F Minor, op. 52

Chopin–Barcarolle in F-sharp Major, op. 60

Liszt–Sonata in B minor, S. 178

Stravinsky–Three Movements from Petrushka

Isang Yun–Five Pieces for Piano (1958)

Recorded at Yagi Studio, Seoul, Korea, 2014

Fortified with two performance degrees and an artist diploma from South Korea, a second artist diploma from Cincinnati, two doctorates in piano from Michigan State University, and an admirable list of prizes, recordings, and jobs as conductor, educator, and collaborative artist, Jiwon Han should have little need to prove his status as an expert in the field. Judging from his album “Jiwon Han—Début,” recorded nine years ago at the age of twenty-seven, we can already hear Mr. Han’s formative tastes spanning the range of pianistic warhorses, pieces which define the real article and demand the utmost of a performer. These audio files present the young, pre-Doctor Han as a probing yet conservative virtuoso steering all ears toward an eminent future.

The chronological arrangement of the YouTube playlist, Jiwon Han—Début , begins in 1842 with rather late Chopin, although one could only imagine the effect of Mr. Han’s incisive fingers on a Baroque or Classic masterwork (perhaps something to anticipate in another release). Meticulous to a fault in the preparation of every musical detail, he squeezes the last drop of tone from each voice in Chopin’s multi-layered counterpoint and leaves no note to speculation. The poetic genesis of the Fourth Ballade is nascent and the woven, operatic gondola songs of the Barcarolle, among Chopin’s last and most reflective experiments in sound, are given highly burnished treatment marked by discipline and unflinching concentration. To be sure, audio engineering and the YouTube format place us in a digital environment quite different from that of a concert hall—which would not jostle our meditations with jingles and blaring ads—but the “acoustic” is somewhat distant, treble-centric, and wet, even when Mr. Han seems to be pouring both hands into a chordal tirade. Liszt’s symphonic and tumultuous B minor Sonata unfolds acrobatically yet earnestly, pacing out the glorious arrivals of second themes and fugal upheavals with an almost micro-managed conductor’s sense of time. We marvel at Mr. Han’s power and facility while we search for a trace of the Hungarian rhapsodist who would transmute absolute structure and tonality within several years of the Sonata’s publication in 1854. Perhaps owing to the limitation of computer speakers and the sprinkling of commercial breaks between sections of this one-movement traversal of the human spirit, Mr. Han’s assiduous interpretation leaves us longing to hear him live, in a setting in which we might actually hold our breath.

Igor Stravinsky’s Petrushka becomes an instant magnet for Jiwon Han, who recorded the three excerpts at nearly the same age as the composer of the original ballet (Stravinsky was twenty-eight in 1910 when he realized his orchestral vision of a magician instilling human energy and emotion into puppets). Indeed, the piano suddenly leaps into the room as Mr. Han conjures a model soundscape of electric octaves, staccatissimo accents, and carnival folk themes. His superb rhythmic articulation and dry ostinato, so well matched to the exacting style of the regimented Russian, could be lifted into a freshly choreographed performance if Vaslav Nijinsky’s mocking reincarnation were to reappear onscreen, as Petrushka’s ghost hovered over the stage at the end of the Shrovetide Fair scene in the ballet. A pianist, however, as the sole element absent a full tableau, must be set designer, theatrical costumer, director, and choreographer, and in this regard, we hear Mr. Han’s neoclassic character primed to discover more Slavic savagery and sheer zaniness in his brilliant playing.

In a surprising detour from the showy persona exemplified by the rest of his program, Mr. Han ends on an unsettled note, with the expressionist Korean-German Isang Yun’s Five Pieces for Piano, or Fünf Stücke für Klavier. These comprise the earliest work of a Korean-born composer who studied in Japan, Paris, and Berlin and befriended Cage, Boulez, and Stockhausen in his quest for the unification of Eastern and Western styles. In 1958, before his political imprisonment and voiced strivings for the reconciliation of North and South Korea, Isang Yun was influenced by a mix of twelve-tone serialism, Taoist naturalism, Buddhist chants, and Korean instrumental timbres. It is to his credit that Mr. Han champions such mathematically constructed and intricate music. The five pieces evoke strains of Schoenberg’s Suite for Piano, op. 25 and Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux, with new ideas: extreme curves of high and low register, colorful grace notes, imitations of vibrato, glissando, and pizzicato techniques, and fortississimo or pianississimo fermatas as isolated sounds trailing off into silence. Mr. Han portrays the contrasts effectively and freely. There may be an even higher level of control indicated by the composer’s careful progression of rhythmic values (triplets, quintuplets, septuplets) that could warrant a sense of restraint in the performer’s instinctively Romantic rubato, but the result is dramatic and alluring.

Da Capo Chamber Players

Curtis Macomber, violin; Marianne Gythfeldt. Clarinet; Christopher Gross, cello

Guest Artists: Roberta Michel, flute; Lois Martin, viola; Molly Morkoski, piano

Tenri Institute, New York, NY

June 11, 2023

It is a special pleasure to review an ensemble that was just creating a name for itself 51 years ago when this reviewer was a young child. Anyone in New York interested in new music over the past half a century has most likely known of the Da Capo Chamber Players for their many concerts and distinctions, starting with their Naumburg Chamber Music Award in 1973. They’ve given premieres of works by Elliott Carter, Joan Tower, George Perle, Shulamit Ran, and countless noted composers, many of whom have composed works just for them (totaling over 150). Though the only original member of the ensemble is now flutist Patricia Spencer, and she was not performing in this weekend’s concert at Tenri, Da Capo did present three of its stellar regular members, including violinist Curtis Macomber, clarinetist Marianne Gythfeldt, and cellist Christopher Gross. Their usual pianist, the uniquely gifted Steven Beck, was also absent from this concert, but guest pianist Molly Morkoski gave performances all evening that would be hard to surpass, if not impossible. To expand the forces for this concert – a celebration of young composers – the ensemble brought in excellent guest artists Roberta Michel (flutist) and Lois Martin (violist).

The program started with Look Again (2013, also listed in the program as 2014) by Jessica Mays (b. 1986). It turned out to be one of my favorite works on the program. Composed for flute, clarinet, cello, piano, and violin, it centers on the experience of grief and (in the composer’s words) “that experience of shock while facing the unknown and repetitive rumination that accompanies the grief cycle.” It was a refreshing – and surprisingly rare – experience to hear music that corresponded so perfectly with the composer’s written description and stated intent, though the music itself evoked more than those words ever could. Bursts of sound and large gestures conveyed shock, alternating with doleful repeated tones (especially from the piano) suggesting the relentless revisiting of thoughts in a mind that is simply trapped by grief. The players were united in their dedication to communicating the work’s essence, and they succeeded. It was both stimulating to the imagination and stirring to the emotions, the work of a fresh and sincere voice in the composition world.

The second of the five works we heard was a 2014 one by Durban-born Andile Khumalo (b. 1978) who currently teaches in South Africa and whose US connections include a Doctor of Musical Arts degree from Columbia University with George Lewis. His work on this program was Schaufe[r]inster II for solo piano- and yes, you read that correctly as a title and not an editor’s marking. As the composer writes, “The title of this piano series comes from a combination of two German words ‘Schaufenster’ (display window) and ‘schau fern’ (look farther away) … The two words triggered the idea of detailed observation or enhanced sensitivity towards observation or listening.” With wordplay already involving some brain-teasing, the composer continues with references to spectralism, the interlocking techniques of African xylophones, and research into the approach to the timbre of the ama Xhosa, some of which this listener imagines she may have heard in it – some not. Frankly, given the live acoustics at Tenri, the harshness of parts (especially in its second section) impeded truly receptive listening. With persistent focus, though, one could hear the glimmers of its many intriguing ideas. This listener was doing more searching than finding, but that may have been the composer’s aim. The pianist did a commendable job navigating the work’s myriad challenges and complexities, from fleet finger work and rapid leaps to handling disjunct material.

The third work on the program was Prelude (2019), a duo for cello and piano, composed by Katherine Balch (b. 1991).  Composed for Zlatomir Fung and Tengku Irfan, it was (in the composer’s words) “written to precede attacca into” the Brahms E minor Cello Sonata without pause, though she adds that “it may also be performed alone” – which of course it was here, given the program’s focus on new young composers. Aside from its ending on the dominant (B) of the E minor key of the sonata, one was hard-pressed to connect this work with Brahms, though undoubtedly such a new piece requires more listening and study. It was certainly full of great tonal and timbral variety, from the bell-like prepared piano effects to a variety of bowing techniques and the highest cello range imaginable, where sighing motives resembled seagull cries. Once again, percussive treble attacks were painful to hear in this space, but apart from those, it was a compelling performance. One could hardly ask for a more committed duo than that of Gross and Morkoski.

On a side note, one drawback of such a contemporary music series is what amounts to the segregation of new music from old. A composition designed to precede a specific Brahms work left this listener pining to re-hear the Brahms itself, as originally planned by the composer, and surely the newness and Romanticism would have complemented each other while making connections between them more apparent. Though the Brahms would have made this program twenty-five minutes too long, perhaps down the road Da Capo can experiment a bit more with diachronically themed programs, even on a small scale. Just as toddlers and seniors are now found to be mutually beneficial in intergenerational living experiments (ha! – after many societies already knew it), the same concept can enhance a musical experience. There could still be an emphasis on the new.

After intermission, we heard a piece called Trinket (2013), composed by Wang Lu (b. 1982). With paper clips on the piano strings and numerous effects for the cello, violin, and flute (plus piccolo), it tickled the ears as one might have imagined from its title. Ms. Lu writes (after stating that her piece had “no program note”) that the title indicates “a tiny box. It is shiny and sharp on the edges. Who knows what’s inside but we can hear sounds from the outside. We want to open it, we turn it around and around in our hands. But maybe it’s better not to open it, and only listen to it from the outside.” For “no program note” that was one of the most helpful notes imaginable for what we then heard. With the long rests between opening tones conveying the box’s mystery, its sharpness conveyed in its clear-cut phrases and percussiveness, and its sheen heard especially in the flute part, one could absolutely imagine this box, dream of some humorous possibilities inside it – and also have a healthy fear of it. It could have been called “Pandora” with its later recurring Dies Irae snippets (just four notes here which, then circled back up), but the word “Trinket” was a far more colorful (and somewhat onomatopoeic) choice. The ensemble was, as expected, superb.

The final work on the program was Enclosed Position (2014) by Matthew Ricketts (b. 1986). Composed for alto flute, clarinet, string trio, and piano, it is a stunning piece, built from (as the composer describes it) “a harmonic vocabulary which traces a zagged path through the chords of Ravel and Massenet, which start rather similarly but then modulate in different directions.” The program notes are too long to quote sufficiently here, but suffice it to say that they confirmed much of what a listener could hear and feel.  One heard in it both the sadness and sensuality of the musicians who inspired it, and at its very quiet end, one could hear that often-mentioned pin drop. It seemed not the typical silence of an audience wondering whether an unfamiliar piece was over – but more the silence of an audience hoping it was not over.

Bravo to Da Capo for so many great performances and compositions – and cheers to their upcoming 52nd season!

Rodney Wynkoop, guest conductor

Michael Bussewitz-Quarm, DCINY Composer-in-Residence

David Cole, piano

Greg Gilpin, composer/conductor

George Hemcher, piano

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

June 5, 2023

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) ended its 2022-2023 series with a concert entitled Music for the Human Spirit. The first half took the subtitle Where We Find Ourselves, the name of the work that filled the half itself. The second half, Together We Are Better, featured seven works for younger voices, some composed/arranged by Greg Gilpin, who conducted this half, and others were old favorites. The choruses came from North Carolina, New York, Texas, Florida, Kansas, Indiana, Nevada, and Tennessee.

Rodney Wynkoop took the podium to conduct Michael Bussewitz-Quarm’s Where We Find Ourselves, with text by Shantel Sellers. Where We Find Ourselves takes its name from a photo collection book featuring imperfect (i.e., double-exposed) plates taken by photographer Hugh Mangum (1877-1922). Why Mangum saved these photos is not known, other than he believed they had value. Quoting the program notes, “We are all damaged in some way, and sometimes the world seems broken…yet even in brokenness, there is beauty. This is where we find our courage. This is where we find ourselves.“ Clocking in around twenty-five minutes, it is divided into five-movements (I. “Would you know me by my hat?” II. “Would you know me by my hair?” III. “Would you know me by my work?” IV. “Would you know me by my scars” V. “Memento Vivere”). It emerged as the work of a skilled choral composer, employing accessible tonal language without cloying consonance, clear text setting, and enough complexity to challenge listener and performer alike. It was also well within the capabilities of a good high school chorus, showing a strong understanding of the different vocal ranges.

Highlights included the performance by bass soloist Mark Garbrick in the “Would you know me by my hair?” movement. Imagine Ice and the Jets (or Tony if you prefer the 2021 West Side Story) singing “Cool” in the middle of a church service spiritual. “Would you know me by my scars?”, with soloists Brooke Sullivan and Q Davis, had a very unsettling quality that was hauntingly effective. It was far and away my favorite part of this work.  Let’s not overlook soprano soloist Alyssa Anzelmo, whose lovely voice filled the hall in the “Would you know me by my work?” movement. Kudos to Maestro Wynkoop and the chorus for their excellent performance, and to Ms. Bussewitz-Quarm, who was in attendance and stood to receive congratulations and applause from the audience.

It is regrettable that the photos that inspired this work were not projected for the audience to view.. It would have added an additional layer of context that might have helped the listener gain a deeper understanding. One can view the pictures by visiting the following site: Where We Find Ourselves- Mangum portraits.

After a very short (and the fastest stage reset in my thirteen years of reviewing DCINY) pause, Greg Gilpin took the stage. A DCINY favorite (this being Mr. Gilpin’s seventh appearance with DCINY), Mr. Gilpin is something of a magician with young singers. I have mentioned his avuncular qualities in past reviews, but that is probably an oversimplification of his talents. He is “all in” – cajoling, gyrating, singing along, whatever it takes to coax these youngsters to heights they probably never imagined possible. As an old and crusty music critic, such choral performances can be trite and tiresome (the obligatory handclapping while singing and the choreographed sways), but as a human being, it is enchanting. It is like I have two hundred kids, and I am proud of each and every one of them. Accordingly, I am not going to do the usual “critic” thing, other than to acknowledge soloist Leah Crane for “rocking the house” with her impassioned performance.

For the sake of completeness- the selections were as follows: Music Gloria! (Hayes/Martin), Yeish Kochavom (Tunick), Hakuna Mungu Kama Wewe (arr. Gilpin), Together We are Better (When We Sing) (Gilpin), Pilgrim Song (arr. Murphy), Dry Bones (arr. Hayes), and How Can I Keep From Singing? (Gilpin).

The hall erupted in a loud and raucous standing ovation for their stars. As Mr. Gilpin said before the final number, “They are our future,” as he pointed to the youth on stage. Maybe the future is brighter than I might have imagined. Congratulations to all.

Magdalena Filipczak, violin; Jessica Xylina Osborne, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 30, 2023

A large crowd came out to Weill Hall this Tuesday for the debut recital of violinist Magdalena Filipczak with pianist collaborator Dr.Jessica Xylina Osborne, and it was a concert not to be forgotten. The program was beyond bountiful, including fiercely demanding 20th-century works (by Arnold Schoenberg, Witold Lutoslawski, Benjamin Britten, and Stephen Coxe), alongside virtuoso showpieces (Eugène Ysaÿe and Henryk Wieniawski), all flanking the centerpiece of the evening, Franz Schubert’s monumental Fantasy in C major, D. 934. Of these works, almost any by itself might be the high point of a typical violin program, but here were seven such pieces together. The duo of Filipczak and Osborne was certainly a match for it all, as one might have been led to expect from their excellent credentials, but they surpassed expectations, adding memorable surprises along the way.

Incidentally, this recital was supposed to have occurred in 2020 but was among those canceled because of the pandemic. Three extra years can make a program feel stale, but in this case time seems to have ripened it perfectly. With only one change from the original 2020 program (still posted on the Carnegie website) – Wieniawski’s Fantasie Brillante on motifs from Gounod’s Faust in place of Ravel’s Sonata No. 2 –   the substitution simply expanded on a “Fantasy” theme that was already emerging with the Schubert, Wieniawski, and Schoenberg (all heard in Ms. Filipczak’s debut CD album, Essence of Violin).

Back to 2023, the recital burst into action with a work aptly named Subito, Lutosławski’s dazzlingly craggy and chromatic test piece commissioned by Joseph Gingold for the 1994 International Violin Competition in Indianapolis. Ms. Filipczak exploited it as the vehicle of violin wizardry it was meant to be, showing a huge emotional range from violent outbursts to lyrical lines. The split-second timing of the duo was exceptional.

As if the Lutoslawski had not been edgy and dissonant enough, Schoenberg’s Phantasy, Op. 47, the composer’s last strictly instrumental work, followed. In lieu of program notes, Ms. Filipczak made some prefatory comments (also announcing a change from the program which had listed the Britten next), but sadly a very noisy late seating drowned her out. This was a lot of challenging music for a lay audience to process, but the duo did pull it off with conviction.

Anticipation was building (in this listener anyway) for the Schubert Fantasy in C Major (1827) as Ms. Filipczak explained the connection between this great work and one of the lieder Schubert had composed in 1822, Sei mir gegrüßt, or “I greet you” (the Fantasy‘s Andantino movement being a set of variations on that song, reworked). Little did we know what was up this pair’s sleeves, but just as the pianist started what sounded like the introduction of the Andantino movement (which would have been skipping ahead in the Fantasy), it turned out to be the similar piano introduction to the original song Sei mir gegrüßt – sung by none other than Ms. Filipczak herself! To be clear, that is not to say that Ms. Filipczak played a transcription of the song (something violinists have done in conjunction with this work), but that she sang it, and with a lovely and well-trained voice!  At this point, one recalled that along with her violin studies there were mentions in her biography of voice studies – but those had been nothing to prepare one for her singing at her own violin debut. What a wonderfully bold touch! It became clearer and clearer that Ms. Filipczak, along with being an immensely gifted violinist, is first and foremost a musician. She aims to communicate all she can by whatever means necessary, going the extra mile and taking risks. Based on what we heard, she is succeeding!

Overriding any urge for disruptive applause, her pianist and “partner in crime” led smoothly from the song to the tremolando piano opening of the Fantasy, as if in a dream sequence.  It was a breathtaking segue, and it enhanced the experience of this magnificent piece. Aside from what seemed slightly differing conceptions of tempi in the earlier of the Andantino‘s variations, the Fantasy benefitted from still more superb playing from this duo. Dr. Osborne handled with polish the torrents of passagework, octaves, and other difficulties, while always listening and intuiting keenly as a chamber musician. The piano lid was up, but her piano sound rarely overpowered – it was just robust, as most of this duo program demanded.

After intermission, we heard Britten’s Reveille: A Concert Study for Violin and Piano, moved from the first half. A dreamy evocation of the difficulty Britten’s young violinist friend had with early mornings, it enjoyed sleepy slides from the violinist over a hypnotic piano part, blooming gradually into the day’s etudes before a comically perfunctory close from both – it was done to a tee.The audience then lapped up Wieniawski’s Fantasia on Themes from Gounod’s Faust, a piece that piles so many different facets of violin technique on top of one another that it verges on hilarity. It was great to hear a duo good enough to have fun with it – one didn’t know whether to laugh or gasp in awe.

Cherchant, a 2019 work (World Premiere) by Stephen Coxe came as a sobering interlude with notes of Ravel, Berg, and Szymanowski, and it lived up to its title well with its sincere feeling of searching. Around this point in the long evening, it struck one that this duo may want to opt eventually for slightly shorter programs. Sometimes less is more (and it is a lot to ask an audience – including a reviewer – to leave after 10 pm for a concert starting at 8 pm). Allowing time for talking (and singing!), the Coxe work could have perhaps replaced the Schoenberg (fantasy themes notwithstanding), leaving the second half lighter and with more momentum.   Alternatively, perhaps just one of the showier pieces was enough. Ysaÿe’s Caprice d’après l’étude en forme de Valse de Saint-Saëns closed the program with still more over-the-top brilliance, and one approached what could be called the “virtuosity saturation point.”

Minor reservations aside, the Ysaÿe found Ms. Filipczak in incredible form yet again, and Dr. Osborne masterful, never becoming the bland background even with the violin in the fore, but always adding flavor to each gesture and phrase. Their rapport was felt in musical exchange that resembled witty conversation – wonderful fun, expertly projected.

A cheering crowd received two encores, Paderewski’s gentle Melodie Op. 16, No 2 (arr. Stanislaw Barcewicz) and Szymanowski’s haunting Prelude Op. 1, No. 1 (arr. Grażyna Bacewicz), both played with sensitivity. Hearty congratulations to both musicians!

Yixiang Hou, pianist

Joel Crawford, Recording, mixing, and mastering engineer

KNS Classical label: KNS A/139

The KNS Classical recording label (www.knsclassical.com) has just this spring released an album entitled Carnival featuring excellent performances by pianist Yixiang Hou in unusual selections from the late Renaissance to the twentieth century. Recorded December 18, 2022 on a Steinway at Robert J. Werner Recital Hall (University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, CCM), it includes composers as disparate as Orlando Gibbons, Robert Schumann, Charles-Valentin Alkan, Alexander Scriabin, and Arnold Schoenberg. Not too surprisingly this album includes Schumann’s epic Op. 9, Carnaval, but equally carnivalesque is Alkan’s Le Festin d’Ésope (The Feast of Aesop), Op. 39, No 12 (1857), an exciting and still relatively overlooked work. Mr. Hou, a winner of quite a few prizes, revels in this diverse musical menu, proving himself to be a gifted and adventurous young artist. 

One is a bit puzzled by the inclusion in a “Carnival” collection of several much more somber selections – the Schoenberg Op. 11, Scriabin’s “Black Mass” Sonata No. 9, and especially the  Gibbons Pavan in G minor which opens (the processional display aspect notwithstanding); perhaps these are to serve as foils for the Schumann and Alkan centerpieces, but if the title “Carnival” is simply to suggest great variety, these works do add to that.

Mr. Hou opens the album with solemnity, imbuing the Gibbons Pavan in G minor with a free, quasi-improvisatory expressiveness that suits it well. It is a joy to hear. Though performance practice specialists tend to prefer early instruments for such a piece, a modern piano works beautifully in its own ways (as Glenn Gould and others have agreed). Mr. Hou is a persuasive advocate here, exploiting the piano’s colors to project its mercurial changes and shaping its florid lines well.

Alkan’s Le Festin d’Ésope (the twelfth etude of Alkan’s Op. 39 from 1857) follows in complete contrast, starting with an impish theme in E minor followed by twenty-five virtuosic variations. Honoring Aesop with various animal evocations, this etude an orgy of pianistic display, chordal bombast, wild hand-crossing, rapid octaves, ridiculously fast sixty-fourth notes in one hand with simultaneous leaps in the other, and just enough rhythmic mischief and abbajante (“barking”) dissonance to keep a virtuoso from taking himself (or anything) too seriously. Mr. Hou handles the pyrotechnics easily, with a technique that allows him to unleash its maniacal outbursts with zest. Still a bit more measured than my “go-to” recording of this by  Marc-André Hamelin (who was noted for pioneering this and other pieces by Alkan), Mr. Hou maintains most of the overall tautness of tempo as requested by the composer (avoiding what pianists jokingly call the “emergency maestoso” even in the direst diabolical difficulties), but he takes extra time where the music invites breathing. He is always controlled, with careful metric placement. He also thankfully manages the bravura passages without stretches of “banging” or stridency.

The relative spareness of Schoenberg’s Drei Klavierstücke, Op. 11 (1909) feels just right after Alkan’s circus of excess, though the three pieces are challenging to pianist and listener alike. Mr. Hou gives them thoughtful interpretations, carrying the listener through their almost stream-of-consciousness journey. The slow second piece benefits from a particularly expressive and involved performance here, and the stormy third is full of passion.

Scriabin’s Piano Sonata No. 9, Op. 68 (“Black Mass”) is one of the more difficult of Scriabin’s piano sonatas to hold together, but Mr. Hou has the insight and technique to do just that. Going back to the album title “Carnival” (if this work were meant to relate to that title at all), this would surely be the carnival’s Tower of Terror or some such attraction. This pianist’s rendition comes closer than most in capturing its eerie otherworldliness and ineffable terror.

Placement is key in music, and almost anything following the “Black Mass” Sonata sounds joyous; Robert Schumann’s Carnaval thus brings an especially welcome spirit of triumph to close this album. Mr. Hou gives it all it requires in a fairly mainstream, unsurprising but thoroughly satisfying performance. One can only imagine that his various live performances of it in competitions must have wowed his juries with his technical strengths and reliable musicality.

Along with being a frequent prizewinner in competitions, Mr. Hou continues his studies as a doctoral candidate at the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music (CCM) under the tutelage of Ran Dank (whom this reviewer reviewed as a musician of “immense talent” in 2008 as the winner of the Hilton Head International Competition).  What a fruitful pairing of two adventurous musicians! In addition, Mr. Hou has studied at the Shanghai Conservatory with pianists Qi Zhang, Weiling Chen, Dachun You, and Ting Zhou, in Boston with Wha Kyung Byun at the New England Conservatory, and at the Aspen Music Festival with Arie Vardi.

To reach such a high level while still a student bodes well for Mr. Hou’s future, and he is certainly an artist to watch as he continues to explore. Meanwhile, one can find his album at most online music stores. It would be hard, if not impossible, to find this particular array of works played as well by a single artist.

Xiao Chen, piano, and Xenia Deviatkina-Loh, violin

May 15, 2023

Recognizing, performing, and recording works of under-represented composers is a popular and welcome trend now; the hope being that their proliferation will gain acceptance into the canon of standard repertoire. Duo X² has realized a dream in their recording of works by women composers. This selection showcases music written in the 21^st century by extremely accomplished women hailing from differing cultural heritages.

The video recording can be viewed on YouTube: A Celebration of Women Composers. Each track brings the listener into a unique world, from Chen Yi’s Chinese diaspora (From Old Peking Folklore) to Ellen Taffe Zwilich’s eclectic expression (Episodes for Violin and Piano). Some of the composers wrote pieces as a reaction to global events, such as Gillian Whitehead’s Tōrua, written in the wake of the destruction of the February 2011 earthquake in Christchurch, and Jessie Montgomery’s Peace, a reflection composed during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Other works on this recording include Impulse by Franghiz Ali-Zaden, Memories by Michiro Oshima, Ara Ri Yo by Eun Young Lee, and Speak, Memory, by Lera Auerbach, which shares its title with Vladimir Nabokov’s critically acclaimed memoir.

Duo X² delivers a crystalline accuracy in their highly refined ensemble playing; they are consummate professionals whose commitment to excellence is evident throughout this recording. Xenia Deviatkina-Loh possesses a toolbox of comprehensive technical skills: finger pizzicato, intricate bowing, and mastery of intonation in the extremely high registers. Xiao Chen displays a deep understanding of the transparent textures, playing with clarity and brilliant rhythmic backbone. The two musicians are consistently successful in achieving balance.

The only distraction seemed to be in the sound engineering. Often the audible breathing was too present in the violin part, possibly a result of microphone placement. In addition, between each selection was dead air as opposed to an ambient sound to connect the music.

While the music in this recording is by no means “easy listening,” the performances are riveting and a worthy addition to the continuing mission of expansion and inclusion.

Alexandra Eames

Jonathan Mamora, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 4, 2023

A large audience turned up at Weill Hall on May 4th to hear the Carnegie Debut recital of Jonathan Mamora, the 2022 Solo and Concerto Winner of the Palm Springs International Piano Competition (formerly The Virginia Waring International Piano Competition), and they were well rewarded. From a brief introduction by the competition’s Artistic Director, Robert Koenig, we learned that around a dozen audience members had flown in for the occasion, and one could feel their excitement, along with that of others.

Jonathan Mamora is what one might call a “big” pianist, in the best sense of the term. Starting with his programming, he chose both of Rachmaninoff’s fiercely demanding Piano Sonatas (Opp. 28 and 36), the Sonata No. 3 (Op. 82) by Lowell Liebermann (b. 1961), Liszt’s Les Jeux d’eaux å la Villa d’Este from Années de pèlerinage (Troisième année), and to open the concert a work entitled Resolve (from the set of Five Intermezzi) by Australian composer Carl Vine (b. 1954). Though the Vine and Liszt works are relatively short, they are substantial, with wide-ranging challenges, and as for Rachmaninoff’s Sonatas, their considerable difficulty is paired with a need for mental and physical stamina, with No. 1 being over a half hour and No. 2 in the original 1913 version approaching that. The Liebermann 3rd Sonata in one movement is hardly short, but it started to feel short between two behemoths. Either of the Rachmaninoff Sonatas might normally be the single central attraction of a program surrounded by shorter works; it was thus a rare and overwhelming experience hearing both together.

Along with the programming, Mr. Mamora’s playing itself is larger than life. Perhaps it is unsurprising for a winner of several big competitions, but he possesses a technique so solid that it seemed at times that he couldn’t play a wrong note if he tried. On top of that solidity, he dazzles, with lightning-fast fingers and an encyclopedic array of dynamics and articulations.  

Carl Vine’s Resolve (2022) made a compelling opening. Commissioned by the Olga Kern Piano Competition, which Mr. Mamora also won, it has all the hallmarks of a test piece, revealing a full spectrum of moods, colors, articulations, and tempi, all turning on the proverbial dime and with a dramatic finish. Some of this pianist’s most expressive outpourings of the evening came through this work, as well as through the Liebermann Sonata (2002). He brought both to life with brilliant colors, imbuing their more elusive phrases with emotional richness and clarity and then knocking us out with pyrotechnics. Mr. Mamora demonstrated a marked ability to go to the heart of a work’s drama and to share it in a way that grips the audience. That gift is arguably the most important one for a soloist, and though it is often mistaken for showiness, it is quite distinct from it; it is communication in service to the composer, pure and simple. Though a glance at the program had one ready to characterize Mr. Mamora as a Romantic player, it may be newer music that will benefit from his gift the most. 

Interestingly, for several of his Romantic offerings, Mr. Mamora chose works that stood to benefit most from his expert restraint and control. The glistening fountains of fingerwork which verge on Impressionism in Liszt’s Jeux d’eaux were almost pointillistic and strikingly even like perfectly cut diamonds. The cascades and trills shimmered with what seemed lighter pedal than one usually hears. The extremely bright upper register of the Yamaha CFX concert grand heightened the glassiness in Liszt’s crystalline droplets. At times, frankly, the piano treble was painfully bright, but there are always surprises bringing such resonant instruments into intimate halls.

Incidentally, before playing the Liszt, Mr. Mamora spoke briefly to the audience, first with gracious thanks and then some brief notes about the program. He seemed amazingly calm, especially for one with both Rachmaninoff Sonatas yet to come. This mature serenity was surely what was behind the pacing of the next works, especially the Sonata No. 1. He casually mentioned (to paraphrase) that the Sonata No. 1 does not have melodies per se as much as motives, and (without getting into definitions of melody) this listener saw some truth in that;  what he might have added briefly, though, was that behind some of these repeated-tone motives are the unmistakeable church chants that were such a huge part of Rachmaninoff’s upbringing.  If not chants melodically, they were certainly rhythmic stand-ins for them, just as one finds in late Liszt. Long stretches of such minimal melodic motion have historically made this ponderous work less accessible than the Sonata No. 2 (and far less often performed). It is a profoundly beautiful piece, bringing to mind in many sections the composer’s Concerto No. 3 (composed just a few years later and in the same key), but it requires masterful pacing, which Mr. Mamora has to an impressive degree. He never wallowed in local detail but kept a grip on the overall journey. It would be hard to imagine it being played better, so perhaps he will help bring it increased favor.

After intermission, we heard Lowell Liebermann’s one-movement Piano Sonata No. 3, given a powerful performance abounding in all the virtues mentioned earlier. It has been speculated that this work, composed in 2002, may have been partly in reaction to the events of 9/11, but in any case, it reflects the compositional brilliance for which all of Lowell Liebermann’s works are known. Mr. Mamora captured its Inquieto, esitante opening, building from there, and he sensitively rendered the Dona Nobis Pacem and Lullabye at its center. He built to great ferocity at the end (what a left hand!). Some repeated percussive attacks were again almost too strident to bear, but assuming the possible 9/11 origins, those would seem justified.

To follow this acerbity came more familiar Romanticism – again well-placed – with Rachmaninoff’s Piano Sonata No. 2 in B-flat minor, Op. 36, performed in its original (1913) version. There is a “Goldilocks” situation with this piece, whereby many feel (as it seems Rachmaninoff did) that the original version was too sprawling. Others find the revised (1931) version too terse, and still a third camp finds the Vladimir Horowitz hybrid of the two (or similar amalgams) “just right.” For full disclosure, this listener is devoted to Rachmaninoff’s more concise 1931 version. Hearing the original again after many years of embracing only the revision felt like having a troubling dream of a dear loved one who is suddenly meandering and disheveled. It was hard to hear, but all in all, Mr. Mamora managed to pull its unwieldy parts together, finishing the recital with virtuoso excitement.

A standing ovation with many shouts of “Bravo” from his fans elicited a highly free interpretation of the Schumann-Liszt Widmung. One was surprised by some of the rubato and by a few unusual readings, including a curious bass line at the very end (using G-flat rather than the usual G – seemingly intentional as it happened both times) –  but it was all thought-provoking. In any case, it was practically miraculous that we were offered any encore at all after such a program. One looks forward to more from this outstanding pianist. Bravo!

Christopher James, cello

Lynelle James, piano

Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

 April 27, 2023

Brother and sister Christopher James and Lynelle James follow a time-honored tradition of siblings collaborating as musicians, and while they each enjoy active careers as individuals, there was no shortage of synergy between them in this recital. Hailing from a large extended family of fine professional musicians, one could imagine that respect for the score, attention to phrasing, and good musical taste were as much a part of their upbringing as keeping their rooms tidy or proper table manners. This concert was dedicated to the memory of their mother, pianist Robelyn Schrade and their uncle Randolph Schrade, also a pianist.

The program opened with two sonatas: the Debussy and Schubert’s “Arpeggione”. The slightly austere approach to the Debussy was effective in demonstrating the composer’s foray into a more modern style, with its transparent textures. Particularly striking was the interplay of pizzicato cello and staccato piano in the second movement. In the Schubert, the duo selected slower tempi than usual; this created a more plaintive atmosphere and allowed for more lyricism in the treacherously high registers in the cello part. The third movement which is often played in a more headlong fashion, had more of the necessary Viennese dance character in this relaxed tempo.

The first half of the program concluded on an extroverted note with Chopin’s Introduction and Grand Polonaise Brilliante. Despite Chopin’s admiration for the cello, this was the pianist’s moment in the sun. Lynelle James is a powerhouse of a pianist, with dexterous ability to execute the glittering scales and double thirds with grace and panache.

The second part of the concert began with the little-known Five Preludes for solo piano by the Ukrainian-born Nikolai Roslavets. Here Lynelle continues to demonstrate her considerable mastery in bringing out the many colors and textures in this dense and complex writing, reminiscent of late Scriabin and Szymanowski. After her solo, it was Christopher’s turn to lend his single voice in the Prelude from Bach’s C minor Suite. While playing an excerpt from a complete work seemed slightly out of place in this program, he embraced the acoustics of the hall and delivered a dark and brooding performance. Christopher James is a musician of deep intensity and integrity, and while not a showy player, he has all the equipment to serve the technical demands of the music.

The beloved Sonata by César Franck has become as familiar in its transcription for cello as for the original violin. Highlights of the Jameses rendering were the refreshingly light pedaling in the second movement, which is so often played too heavily, and the soulful cello recitatives in the third movement. The excitement in the conclusion of the final movement was almost uncontainable, and the rapt audience rewarded the duo with warm and well-deserved enthusiasm.

by Alexandra Eames for New York Concert Review; New York, N.Y.

The Modus Operandi Orchestra; Justin Bischof, Music Director and Conductor

St. Mary Church, Long Island City, New York

April 29, 2023

It was especially uplifting this weekend, as we emerge from the pandemic’s death blows to the performing arts, to attend the most recent concert by the Modus Operandi Orchestra under music director and conductor Justin Bischof.  In a program entitled “The Glory of Vienna: An Evening of Mozart and Beethoven,” they showed that not only can local orchestras flourish again, but audiences are ready and eager for them. St. Mary’s Church in Long Island City, a large, beautiful, and acoustically live venue, was packed for this concert. It was so packed that the front ticket desk was overwhelmed, and the concert started twenty minutes late. This listener, often needing to watch the clock, grew actually fairly impatient about that (and there ought to be some measures in place to prevent it), but as the conductor Justin Bischof announced “it is the price of success.” A success it was, on all fronts.

With an excellent conductor and corps of fine musicians – twenty-eight strings, plus healthy winds, brass, and timpani – they had the spirit, skill, and energy they needed to bring to life a program that included Beethoven’s Coriolan Overture, Op. 62 and Symphony No. 7, as well as Mozart’s Symphony No. 35 (“Haffner”). In addition, with guest soprano Laura Léon, they performed Mozart’s Exsultate Jubilate, K. 165, and No, no che non sei capace, K. 419. Their promotional material announced that the concert would “celebrate the riches and majesty of works that either premiered in Vienna or that have a strong connection to this glittering European capital city,” and that celebration was palpable.

Justin Bischof introduced each work with the spoken equivalent of program notes, and though this listener at first thought “Oh, no, more waiting,” his comments were brief and illuminating. Maestro Bischof strikes the perfect balance between high-level professionalism and the ability to reach out to the non-musicians in the audience. His comments were simple and entertaining enough for the many young listeners present but also held valuable information for the adults (such as noting that Mozart’s “Haffner” Symphony manuscript can be found right across town at the Morgan Library). His comments on the Coriolan Overture highlighted the contrasting themes of war and peace in it, and the audience was rapt from its dark dramatic opening to its whispering close. 

Mozart’s Symphony No. 35, the “Haffner,” was opened with energy and precision. One could close one’s eyes and easily imagine oneself in any of the major symphony halls of the world hearing a more renowned orchestra. One followed each theme, each voice, and each entry with the excitement that was meant to imbue the “ennobling” ceremony of the Haffner for whom the work was commissioned (despite further transformations before the work became the Symphony No. 35). The Andante movement spotlighted the expressive unity of the orchestra, and the Menuetto enjoyed its characteristic restraint. The Presto finale impressed as unusually clear, especially given the brisk tempo. It closed with rousing ebullience.

The famous solo motet, Exsultate Jubilate for soprano and orchestra, followed. Maestro Bischof gave a glowing introduction to Laura Léon , and she lived up to it fully. Her melismatic singing in the first section  – and the final Alleluja section –  was dazzling, but it was the sublime softness and expressivity at the end of the Tu virginem corona section that had me thinking we will be hearing much more from this talented musician. Following the Exsultate was the “insertion” aria (written to insert into an opera by Pasquale Anfossi) No, no, che non sei capace. It is an angry aria of disappointed love, with its anger made manifest in ridiculously difficult high notes – yet thanks to the uncanny gifts of Ms. Léon, one still heard in it the transcendent beauty of Mozart rather than mere shrieking. She sang with amazing ease and fluidity. One occasionally had trouble matching the diction with the printed text, but that may have been the overwhelming reverberation obliterating consonants. Brava to this young talent!

After the obligatory pitch for funds from Maestro Bischof, the program proceeded with Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. He also set the scene historically by describing the orchestra that played it as having included Meyerbeer, Hummel, and Salieri. That warrants a few moments of awe, but the playing lived up to this awe. The first movement projected a jubilance enough to overcome the late hour. The flutes shone particularly in the movement’s big transition, but the winds in general shone throughout. The Allegretto movement, one of the divine miracles in music, held the audience rapt, as one noticed strikingly in the soft fugal section. It was partly striking because there were such very young children held spellbound throughout as if watching an action movie. With worries over attention deficits and smartphone addictions, this heightening of sensibilities in young audiences represents a success that will bear fruit in the generations to come. Thanks to the enveloping reverberations of St. Mary’s church, those children tapping on air drums and parents rocking little ones on laps were barely noticeable – except for what they added to the overall joy. A rare few minor glitches occurred, but all was always controlled. The Presto movement offered many opportunities for the horns to shine, even if the upper strings seemed more “caffeinated” than the lower (as often happens – and there were only four celli and three basses listed at that), but by the final exuberant movement, there was hardly a soul able to keep from dancing.

Check the MOO website to add future concerts to your calendars, but (for now) perhaps make allowances for an extra twenty minutes. Bravi tutti!