Solange Merdinian, mezzo-soprano

Joel  A. Martin, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 15, 2021

Weill Recital Hall was the venue for yet another fine presentation from Pro Musicis this week, featuring 2019 prize-winning artist Solange Merdinian. Ms. Merdinian offered a program celebrating her Armenian-Argentinean heritage, with some Cole Porter and Kurt Weill added to the mix.  Ms. Merdinian said she chose composers who are well known in their native lands, but less well known elsewhere.  One can make the case that Komitas and Guastavino, while not “household” names, are known to many, but it is certain that Ashot Satian, Parsegh Ganachian, and Carlos López Buchardo are names new to most listeners (including this one). It is almost always a pleasure to be introduced to music one would not hear otherwise, and Ms. Merdinian’s performances were both educational and artistically fulfilling.

Ms. Merdinian of course possesses all the attributes one expects of a contest winner – a stage presence that is confident and polished, a voice that projects well without strain, and exceptional intonation and diction.  What sets Ms. Merdinian apart from most is her remarkable versatility. While most singers can (and do) venture away from their “comfort zones” it is usually apparent that they are doing so, i.e. Opera singers doing cabaret but sounding like opera singers doing cabaret – not so in the case of Ms. Merdinian. Whatever style she is singing in is completely compelling as if it is her “main” style, which might seem unremarkable, but it is something that few are capable of pulling off so convincingly.  I also had the unmistakable impression that Ms. Merdinian was “in the zone” and that only the complete shutdown of concerts had prevented her from unleashing her obvious passion for these songs on the concert stage. When finally given the opportunity to do so the energy she radiated filled the hall and fired up an already enthusiastic audience.

The recital opened with five Armenian Songs as arranged by Ms. Merdinian’s pianist Joel A. Martin. A candle was placed at the front of the stage and lit (or one should say turned-on, as it was battery-powered ). Surprisingly Mr. Martin entered alone, bowed and sat at the piano. The hall was darkened and he began to play as one heard a voice in the distance, gradually sounding closer as Ms. Merdinian entered. It was a stirring effect, and her voice was hauntingly beautiful. The ideas of longing, heartache, loss, and recovery were the overarching themes of this set, delivered with an intensity that was devastating in its effect. It was a powerful start to the evening, which Ms. Merdinian explained was not her usual way of opening, but she felt the need to acknowledge the tragedy of loss due to the pandemic.  Of the five songs, Mardigi Yerk (Soldier’s Song -“I flew in my mind”), by Ashot Satian, was this listener’s favorite. My one quibble was that there was very little break between songs, making it hard for one who does not speak Armenian to distinguish one from the next. I understand that they functioned as a set that Ms. Merdinian did not want to be interrupted by applause, but a note in the program would have lessened the confusion.

The remainder of the first half took on a lighter and often joyful tone. Five of the Seis Canciones from Eduardo Toldrà followed the Armenian songs.  They are filled with sunny optimism and the feeling of young love, and it was impressive how Ms. Merdinian so effortlessly moved from the emotional weightiness of the Armenian songs to the ethereal Cantarcillo and the heart-racing excitement of first love in Después que te conocí.

Two art songs, Rocío and Meciando, by Carlos Guastavino followed.  Guastavino had an undeniable gift for melody and these songs showcase that gift. As Gustavino is known to have said, “I love melody, I love to sing. I refuse to compose music only intended to be discovered and understood by future generations.”  Ms. Merdinian’s voice was made for these songs, and it is good to see a composer who is overshadowed in this country by his countrymen Piazzolla and Ginastera being heard and appreciated.

The first half ended with Jujeña by Carlos López Buchardo. Filled with sunny cheer and the innocent joy of a young girl who doesn’t have a cloud in her sky,  Ms. Merdinian became that young girl, swaying and dancing happily, while her heart pours out unbridled excitement and wonder about the world.  The duo projected it with élan, and it was a dynamic ending to the half. 

After intermission. Ms. Merdinian offered what she calls her “Musical Salon.” Shifting to cabaret, she transformed into a world-weary chanteuse for three songs (I’m a Stranger Here Myself, Complainte de la Seine, and Je ne t’aime pas) by Kurt Weill.  While I am not always simpatico with Weill’s often ultra-cynical style, these selections were, much to my surprise, highlights of the night for me.  Of the three, the last, Je ne t’aime pas was my favorite.  Ms. Merdinian conveyed the efforts of one who is desperately trying to convince herself that she no longer loves someone when it is plainly clear that she does, and that the harder she tries, the more apparent the love is. The final line,  Je ne t’aime pas! was delivered with such a burst of passion that one could feel their own heart breaking. One wasn’t sure if they should applaud her, or console her!

The Cole Porter standards Let’s Do It and It’s De-Lovely were fun romps, with Ms. Merdinian delighting (or is that De-Lighting?) the audience with some playful changes to the lyrics that drew laughter.

Let’s take a moment to recognize pianist Joel A. Martin, a star in his own right. From his smart and stylish arrangements to his superb pianism, infused with panache,  he is an ideal collaborator. His musical rapport with Ms. Merdinian was outstanding.

Three songs, Chiquilín de Bachín, Nalada para un loco, and Siempre se Vuelve a Buenos Aries, by the master of the tango, Astor Piazzolla, ended the evening.  Ms. Merdinian transported the audience to the cafés of Argentina in a perfect end to a wonderful concert. With a final flair of vocal gymnastics, the audience roared approval with a raucous standing ovation. Ms. Merdinian is an artist to watch, and I wish her continued success in her future endeavors.

Christopher Jessup, piano

Provided to YouTube by CDBaby

Released on: 2021-06-12

The young and talented pianist Christopher Jessup has produced an album that is based on a novel premise.  What if one was to play only the very first movements of some of the cornerstones of the piano repertoire?  This is a provocative way to structure a recording, and I admit to having mixed feelings about this project.  As Mr. Jessup surely knows, a sonata is a musical narrative, and the omission of the later movements leaves a story untold, a story with no resolution.  This sense of incompleteness in the musical works extends to our knowledge of the artist as well.  Can we know him fully from these partial sketches?  I suspect that the pianist is offering us a tasting menu as an introduction both to him, and to the works he is playing.  As a marketing ploy, it may be ingenious, especially as a way to attract new audiences to classical music. For those discovering these works for the first time however, it would be helpful to credit the composer next to the title. 

Mr. Jessup is a very fine musician with a high standard of technique that is always in service to the composer.  He has a brisk, clean approach to the instrument,  coupled with a sense of the overall musical architecture in mind.  This serves him most well in repertoire from the Classical era, represented here by the Haydn B minor Sonata, Hob. XVI: 32 and the Mozart D major, K.311.  Both works were marked by beautiful, sensitive phrasing, with well-calibrated dynamics and careful attention to voicing.  The Haydn was particularly well played, at a slightly faster tempo, but with its drama intact.

I found it refreshing that the pianist did not adhere to the convention of presenting the works in chronological order.  The juxtaposition of the Ravel Sonatine and the Mozart, for example, is illuminating.   Mr. Jessup shows an affinity for Ravel in the same way that he does for the Classicists.  There is much to admire in this light, gossamer, pristine interpretation and again, the phrasing is impeccable.  Similarly, his Beethoven is a model of clarity and balance, and belies a composer’s understanding of harmony and modality.

As is the case with most artists, their strengths may also prove to be their weaknesses on occasion.  For this reason, I felt that both the Grieg Sonata and the Bach Italian Concerto were not convincing, due to a restraint that robbed them of their most important qualities.  The Grieg lacked passion and the Bach was too polite, without the driving rhythm that makes it so purely joyous.  The ” stylistic approaches”  which the pianist refers to in his notes are too muted here to be effective.

Mr. Jessup very generously includes a “bonus track” to conclude this album, and it is indeed a bonus.  His own composition, Le Revenant (The Ghost), develops from its opening tritone theme into a mysterious, skittering moto perpetuo that is impressive for the quality of the playing, and its coherence as a composition.  I would love to hear more of his output as a composer.  This will also feed him as an interpretive musician, and expand his already considerable gifts as a pianist of note.

Opus Two: William Terwilliger, violin; Andrew Cooperstock, piano

With Eric Stern, host, arranger; Elena Shaddow, vocals

Feinstein’s/54 Below, New York, NY

November 23, 2021

First off, let me say what a pleasure it is to attend a violin/piano duo recital that does NOT contain the Franck Sonata (not that there’s anything intrinsically wrong with that work). Opus Two has well established its unconventional approach, with special attention to genres other than the standard ‘classical’ repertoire. In the “swellegant” atmosphere of Feinstein’s/54 Below they provided an evening of good listening. The few caveats I cite below are quibbles, but important ones. This concert was planned for the ninetieth birthday observances for Stephen Sondheim (2020), but a certain virus derailed all of our plans.

To begin, although the well-heeled audience was eating ($36 dollar hangar steaks and the like) and drinking, necessarily maskless, William Terwilliger and Andrew Cooperstock performed with masks on, robbing them of important visual emotive cues, rendering them somewhat remote. The host, and their arranger of ten years, Eric Stern, narrated his somewhat superfluous chat without a mask; and the singer they brought to assist in three numbers, Elena Shaddow, sang maskless as well.

The dry acoustics of Feinstein’s, while not injurious to most cabaret-style performances, were somewhat unforgiving, especially to Mr. Terwilliger’s violin, and they made the beautiful Steinway, ably played by Mr. Cooperstock, sound glassy and brittle. One longed for some reverberance. The Duo’s recordings are much more refined than this.

Transcribing and arranging are noble and ancient arts. Many composers have enjoyed doing so. I’m thinking especially of Franz Liszt, who brought entire operas to life with his ten fingers to small towns across Europe

where the residents may not have been able to access an actual opera in a large cultural center. He also transformed dozens of songs by Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, and others for piano solo.

The best transcribers of vocal music manage to make us “hear” the words despite their absence. I feel Opus Two’s program would best be appreciated by people who already know the words. Bernstein’s reputation as a classical composer is canonic at this point, I feel Sondheim should equally be in this category—he himself cited Britten, Ravel, and Stravinsky as his main influences, and of course, Rodgers and Hammerstein.

Many years ago, the common wisdom stated that Brahms’ Lieder were so instrumentally conceived that they could easily be played on violin, viola, or cello without losing any of their value. I would never argue with one of my professors, but for me a poem, and its evoked emotions, inspired the work to begin with. Thus the fun arrangements this evening, some extravagantly virtuosic, by Mr. Stern, ought to have done more than just ornament the notes.

They began with the Four Moments from Bernstein’s Candide, which suffered from a technical mishap in the slide projections which wrongly labeled each selection. Sadly, I don’t think anyone but me and the reviewer seated next to me knew the difference. The tempos seemed stiff and conservative especially in Glitter and Be Gay. Here is a prime example of my point: When a coloratura soprano sings a high E-flat amid a welter of rapid bouncing back and forth, it’s quite an achievement—when a violin does it, it’s normal, not so extraordinary. I often felt that the sense of giddiness didn’t make it into the arrangement, though Mr. Stern kept Mr.Terwilliger quite busy with difficult figurations, most of which were met with aplomb, despite intonation issues and the acoustic mentioned previously.

For two songs about ‘houses’ the Opus Two brought onstage Broadway’s soprano Elena Shaddow, who had an appropriately Wendy-like innocence for My House from Peter Pan, though she lacked the gravitas for Abigail Adams singing Take Care of this House (1600 Pennsylvania Avenue) amid the ruins of the White House in 1814, sounding merely petulant. She should have held her final notes longer, to end together with the violin/ensemble; it left a curious, unfinished feeling.

I am stridently against the transformation of Somewhere from West Side Story into a sort of feel-good Muzak number. Of course, at its initial appearance, the song heralds the love of Tony and Maria against all odds—but for me it is the reprise with Maria holding the dead Tony in her arms that is the true psychological underpinning of this music, and it should end with the discordant tritone found at the end of the musical, not a bland “C major,” even at the risk of making the listener uncomfortable. After all…

Shaddow returned for the beautiful I Remember (Sondheim) from Evening Primrose, a television drama from 1966. Ella, who was trapped in a department store at age six, but is now nineteen, falls in love with The Poet, who has taken refuge in the store present-day. The evil master of all the souls who come to life after closing hours turns them into mannequins in the window, where Ella can finally, tragically, see her sky again. Ms. Shaddow lacked the poignance and complexity of this song of memory—when the line comes “I would gladly die, for a day of sky,” one should not feel good about it.

Finally, the Duo performed Mr. Stern’s Suite from A Little Night Music, whose music is all in ¾ waltz time. Here again, the violin/piano failed to suggest the words. The longing of a certain syllable, the stresses and releases, the wistful floating off, especially in Send in the Clowns, didn’t find their way into Mr. Terwillger’s playing, busy as he was with figurations provided by Mr. Stern, which here I felt oddly could have been even more extravagant.

At any rate, as I said before, these are the quibbles of a cranky reviewer approaching this from the classical side. The audience didn’t mind, and was extremely appreciative.

Zeze Xue, pianist

Bruno Walter Auditorium at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

November 19, 2021

A large crowd came to hear young pianist Zeze Xue this week in a program that included Chopin’s B minor Sonata, Debussy’s Ballade, selections from Goyescas of Granados, Tan Dun’s Eight Memories in Watercolor, and the Liszt Concert Fantasy on Bellini’s La Sonnambula. There was much to admire and enjoy, from the brilliance of the Liszt to the multicolored evocations of the Tan Dun, and the warm and receptive audience appeared to appreciate it all, rewarding the pianist with loud ovations.

Opening with Debussy’s much neglected Ballade, Mr. Xue captured well its mood of reverie. I was struck by his dramatic projection of the opening phrases which pulled the audience, after the noisy lines to show vaccination cards and all, into his quiet conception. His shading was sensitive and nuanced, and his immersion was compelling as he let the spell of the piece take hold. His expressive physical gestures, which some might call extraneous, did serve to punctuate phrases visually, probably intensifying the experience for some.

We heard more of this atmospheric playing on the second half in Quejas, o La Maja y el ruiseñor (“The Maiden and the Nightingale”) and Los requiebros (“Compliments”) of Granados, both very well suited to this performer. His expressiveness bloomed in the direct lyrical lines of the lamenting Maja, projecting well its plaintive spirit. In Los requiebros, a deceptively thorny piece to play, the thematic lines are easily outweighed by secondary pianistic material, like a too heavily laden strand of jewelry, so there were moments here where one wanted more prioritizing of the line over the decoration; all in all, though, it was effectively played.

A performance highlight for this listener was the set of Tan Dun’s Eight Memories in Watercolor. From the somber opening, Missing Moon, through the meticulously articulated Staccato Beans, attention to detail was excellent. That same level of devotion continued, from the rustic melancholy of Herdboy’s Song to the magical Floating Clouds and the vivid splashes of the finale, Sunrain. It is just such personal commitment that can set a young artist apart from his peers, so though one has tended to associate these pieces with Lang Lang who premiered them, they could become signature pieces for this pianist.

Though the Chopin Sonata in the first half had had some distinctly individual qualities as well, it somehow did not fully win over this listener as a whole. There was a slightly labored quality in the first movement (sometimes described by musicians as “notey-ness”), as if it had not been lived with quite long enough to gain natural freedom and flexibility (and this quality was underscored by the dryness in pedaling). There were also some quirks of tempo and tone that broke the flow, hindering the cohesion of this already sprawling movement, and though one still saw the physical hand gestures demarcating phrases, the aural experience did not always match the visual (with perhaps the hall piano being to blame at times).  

Surprisingly in the Chopin, the extreme slowness of the Largo – and even the Trio section of the Scherzo – gained points for bravery from me, though they “pushed the envelope” as the saying goes. Performances of the Scherzo movement usually maintain some momentum throughout, but here it felt like the Trio section within was its own separate slow piece. In the Largo, that slowness suspended time nearly to a halt. The pandemic perhaps has the world adjusting everyone’s sense of time, but in any case it was refreshing to hear a performer unafraid to try a slower than usual tempo in a slow movement. Some adjustments to pedaling and tone in sustaining the line will help make this interpretation more convincing. The Finale brought the work to a rousing close just as it should, bringing the music to the “five-minute” break that substitutes for full intermissions lately.

The entire evening was capped off in bravura fashion with the Liszt’s Fantasy on Bellini’s La Sonnambula, and here it seemed that one could best hear the benefits of Mr. Xue’s illustrious roster of teachers, including Craig Sheppard at the University of Washington and Solomon Mikowsky and William Wolfram at the Manhattan School of Music, from which he graduated with an MM degree in 2019. It was an impressive performance, with passion and grandeur.

Zeze Xue clearly has much going for him – not the least of which is a winsome stage presence – so it will be interesting to follow him. Still more winsome was his encore of Debussy’s La fille aux cheveux de lin, a touching close to an auspicious recital.

InfraSound: Luke Paulino, countertenor; Stefanie Proulx, flutes; Yoshi Weinberg, flutes;

Bradley Frizzell, clarinet; Giancarlo Latta, violin; Dudley Raine IV, viola; Austin Philemon, piano; Hunter Somogie, electric guitar

TAK Ensemble: Laura Cocks, flutes; Madison Greenstone, clarinets; Marina Kifferstein, violin; Ellery Trafford, percussion; Charlotte Mundy, voice

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

November 13, 2021

I can safely assert that the state of contemporary music in New York is vibrant and enthusiastic, as represented by the winners of the Dwight and Ursula Mamlok Prize: InfraSound and the TAK Ensemble. Ursula Mamlok, a legendary pedagogue for decades, principally at The Manhattan School of Music, was also represented on the program by each ensemble. Perhaps ironically, her works, dating from 1961 and 1967, proved to be the strongest musically. As Mamlok often said, all the explanation in the world won’t help the listener coming to the work for the first time. They must be able to perceive the emotional content, as projected through rise, fall, climax, and proportion.

While the music on the program may have been somewhat uneven, the performances were excellent throughout, with tight ensemble and excellent partner communication. This event was diverse from the standpoints of race, gender, and sexual identity. The first half was consecrated to InfraSound, the second half to the TAK Ensemble.

The concert began with Mamlok’s Variations for solo flute (1961), superbly played by transgender flutist Yoshi Weinberg, who was also represented later as composer. This was Mamlok’s first 12-tone composition, and you could hear her rigorous training, however she sported with the row (and its many permutations), never allowing it to become didactic. Her sense of proportion kept the length to just over seven minutes, long enough to enjoy without overstaying its welcome.

Next came Julius Eastman’s 1974 work, JoyBoy, for voice, 2 flutes, and violin. Eastman is undergoing something of a renaissance recently, thanks to the rediscovery of a large cache of compositions. He was a multi-talented composer, pianist, vocalist, and dancer, co-founder of the important S.E.M. Ensemble, among many accomplishments. He was also black and queer, which was difficult for him within his community. Sadly, he became dependent on drugs and then homeless (hence the loss of his manuscripts), dying at age 49. JoyBoy is a celebration of the possibilities of a single note, E, that expands into chords or contracts into itself. It was beautifully done.

Though I can’t name every performer in InfraSound (“below” sound), I must single out the work of counter-tenor Luke Paulino, capable of myriad colors and unfazed by any score, no matter how difficult.

Yoshi Weinberg (they/them) was then featured as composer with their 2020 work Infravize, a largely improvised work, and the first time I have encountered an accordion in a chamber music concert. I imagine that after a year-and-a -half of Zoom rehearsing and performing, playing together in person must have seemed a relief. Their ensemble was perfect, even with the loose structure of improvisation.

Vasily Ratmansky was born in 1998. He is not a medieval Russian Grand Prince, despite his bio. He also gets the award for longest title: “I think maybe the shape of new music yet to come? I’m not 100% sure though, since I am a new music composer and I don’t really know what shape new music has” used to be the title of the piece, but now my mouth is open and speaking isn’t what I want to do right now. This work is hot off the manuscript and was a world premiere. Unfortunately, as with much contemporary music dependent on technology, said technology doesn’t always behave. Although Ratmansky seems like an ironic commentator, it was hard to tell where the computer woes ended and the piece began, so to speak. The commitment of all involved was vivid however.

After intermission, David Bird’s Series Imposture (2012) was given an excellent, haunting rendition. Charlotte Mundy’s vocalism was wonderful. This piece is a musical transposition of a bizarre psychological experiment in which test subjects faked auditory hallucinations in order to gain admission to psychiatric hospitals, where they were diagnosed, medicated, and not allowed to leave (even though they were fine).

More Mamlok followed, in the shape of her Haiku Variations (1967). The short poetry brought forth brief musical responses from the composer, icy waves, seagull, nightingale, sparrow, etc. Mundy and the ensemble were superb.

Two excerpts (Casida de las palomas oscuras & Arqueros) from the song cycle Love, Crystal, and Stone (2017) by Iranian composer Ashkan Bezahdi closed the evening. Bezahdi skillfully mingles fragments of indigenous Iranian music with other advanced compositional strategies and weaves a striking sound world.

After the enthusiastic ovation, the two ensembles were presented with their framed award citations. Well done!

Rachel Schutz, soprano

Timothy Long, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 8, 2021

Weill Recital Hall was the venue for yet another fine offering from Pro Musicis this week, featuring prize-winning artist Rachel Schutz. Ms. Schutz has an impressive list of credentials, and her program of works which one would normally not expect to hear in a winner’s recital, including one world premiere, added a layer of interest for this listener.

Ms. Schutz writes about how she came to deciding her program in the context of the upheaval of this trying time, opting for works that, “… can take strength from hearing the stories of others as they overcame difficulties, cultivate resilience, and find solace and power in the arts.”  One could say that her choices were well-matched to her intention, however her inclusion of the Rachmaninoff Six Songs, Op. 38 as linked to the Russian Revolution of 1917 might be seen as a bit of a “shoehorn,” as these songs were composed in 1916, when Rachmaninoff could not have known how his country’s turbulence would impact his life and work. That being said, they are a welcome addition to any program!

Ms. Schutz opened with music by African-American composer Margaret Allison Bonds (1913-1972), entitled Songs of the Seasons and set to the poetry of Langston Hughes. The four songs, written in 1934, 1936, and 1955, remained unpublished until recently so made for a welcome offering of fresh repertoire. The first two songs, Poème d’automne and Winter Moon, show the undeniable talent of an emerging composer, while the later ones, Young Love in Spring and Summer Storm, are the works of an experienced composer who is confident in her voice and assured in her craft. Bonds studied with Florence Price while in high school, was awarded a scholarship to Northwestern University (where she earned her bachelor’s and master’s degrees by age 21), and later studied with Roy Harris at Juilliard.  Bonds was the first African-American to appear as a soloist with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and was a prolific songwriter, with more than half of her songs set to the poems of Langston Hughes, a lifelong friend of hers.

About the performances, first, some general observations. Ms. Schutz’s voice projects well, without strain or stridency. Her diction is clear (so while the texts were available, there was no real need to have my head buried in them), and her stage manner is expressive without being overly “emotive.” These are all qualities that are appreciated by listeners who value substance over gimmicky style. She projected the easy blues feel of Poème d’automne quite stylishly and gave the evocative Summer Storm roiling turbulent growls. These were an auspicious start to the evening.

Excerpts from Vignettes: Ellis Island by Alan Louis Smith (b. 1955) followed. Mr. Smith stated that he selected excerpts from tape-recorded interviews of persons who passed through Ellis Island on their immigration to the United States. He chose quotes in which, as he describes, “the use of language, narrative description or emotional content” struck him as being “inherently musical in some way.” He then reordered the selected passages to progress from preparing to leave for America through settling in the United States. The Vignettes ranged from excited anticipation, to nostalgic lament, to portraying the bustle of Ellis Island, with even a little Titanic anecdote thrown in (which made for a good story, though pure fantasy!). Ms. Schutz captured the various moods with a practiced ease, seamlessly moving from story to story. When there was whimsy, she projected it without being hammy, and the laments were never overwrought or maudlin. Sincerity is the word that I believe best describes Ms. Schutz’s approach, and it was the perfect match for these vignettes. Favorites were “Anna” (Prologue) with the jaunty feel that reminded one of Milhaud, the hymn-like “Kaj” (Boarding the Boat), and the clever “Max” (On the Island).

After a five-minute pause, Ms. Schutz offered Meditation, a two-movement piece, by Chen Yi (b. 1953). Set to poems from the 7^th and 8^th centuries (Know You How Many Petals Falling?, and Ascending the Watch Tower at Youzhou, which Yi called Monologue), they pair some of the traditional elements of Chinese opera with some rather “modern” harmonic touches. These pieces gave Ms. Schutz the opportunity to demonstrate the considerable technical gifts that she obviously possesses but was keeping on the backburner ready to unleash. While these were not ostentatious displays of vocal gymnastics, her virtuosity was indisputable and made quite an impression on this listener.

The world premiere of No Road Back Home, by Thomas Osborne (b. 1978) followed. Dedicated to the poem’s author Abduqadir Jalalidin, a Uyghur writer who has been imprisoned in Xinjian since 2018, the poem was memorized and transmitted from inmate to inmate, until it finally made it to the outside world. It eventually made its way to Mr. Jalalidin’s former student, historian Joshua L. Freeman, who translated the verse into English. To say this work is emotionally charged is something of an understatement, as one is drawn into the desolation of isolation and the crushing weight of despair. Ms. Schutz wrung every last drop of these qualities in a performance that was absolutely shattering in its heartbreak. As it died away to a final lament, one could sense the collective holding of breath throughout the hall. This was the most memorable moment of the evening for this listener.

Let’s take a moment to offer kudos to the excellent pianist Timothy Long, who was an outstanding collaborator and a force in his own right.

Rachmaninoff’s Six Songs, Op. 38 ended the program. There is no reason to write about the background here; the stories are well known and easily found online by anyone who wishes to know more. This was far from this listener’s “first rodeo” with these songs, so I was eager to see how Ms. Schutz would do. The short answer is: very well indeed! One does not win contests without having technical skill, so there was not much doubt about Ms. Schutz’s ability to cope with those challenges, but there was a level of artistry that took this from the “contest ready” to the truly exceptional. While the entire set was of high quality, it was the fourth song, The Pied Piper, unconventionally playful for Rachmaninoff, that was the highlight of the evening for me.

The audience rewarded Ms. Schutz with a well-deserved standing ovation. She offered another Rachmaninoff song, Spring Waters, the eleventh of the Twelve Romances, Op. 14, as an encore, which she sang with exuberance.

Robert Fleitz, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 18, 2021

Pro Musicis presented pianist Robert Fleitz in a highly auspicious debut before a large masked audience this Monday at Weill Hall, continuing their established tradition of presenting outstanding musicians on prominent world stages as well as in charitable venues. A program that included three world premieres, plus works by some lesser-known composers (including five women) was immediately intriguing. The only two works by “mainstream” composers were the Bach Invention No. 1 (BWV 772 in C Major) and the magnificent Brahms Klavierstücke Op. 118, with the balance of the program being music by Unsuk Chin, Maria Martines, Timo Andres, Krists Auznieks, Julia Perry, Julie Zhu, Lūcija Garūta, and Jeffrey Mumford.

Robert Fleitz, a graduate of the Juilliard School (B.M. and M.M.), lists in his biography the usual awards and prizes, one of course being the Pro Musicis 2021 International Award which resulted in this performance; there seems very little, though, that is usual about this eclectic pianist.

It was an unusual choice to open with Bach’s little Invention in C Major, which is heard more at young students’ recitals than professionals’ programs, but one guessed that the Invention was programmed to illuminate the next work, entitled Etude No. 1 (In C), by Unsuk Chin (b. 1961) a pupil of György Ligeti. That guess was correct. In a surprise “non-ending” Mr. Fleitz let the penultimate dominant harmony of the Bach fade without resolution (part heresy, part genius), and omitted the final “C” harmony to proceed attacca to the Chin Etude. That expected tone C, desired but unheard, transformed the way one heard the subsequent Etude. As Dr. Richard Rodda points out in his excellent program notes, Ms. Chin’s Etude is not so much “In C” as much as “On C” with the pitch C repeated amid “increasingly dense constellations of flickering sound-points.” Those “constellations” can make this piece a challenge for the ears, but thanks to “C” being etched in one’s mind from the Bach, one felt its magnetic power throughout. It was a masterstroke of programming by an innovative musical thinker.

Apart from programming gifts, Mr. Fleitz proved to be an excellent pianist in diverse repertoire, including the next work, the Sonata in G Major by neglected Haydn pupil Maria Martines (1744- 1812). The playing was crisp and light with Scarlatti-esque brilliance that verged on breathlessness but stayed on course with hardly a smudge. The last movement was particularly exciting.

After this refreshing return to classicism, the program ventured again into the 21st century for the world premiere (Commissioned by Pro Musicis) of a beautiful work, Honest Labor by Timo Andres (b. 1985). As the composer writes, “Honest Labor attempts to uncover a kind of Transcendental satisfaction in routine tasks. A simple contrapuntal process gives rise to increasingly elaborate and expressive gestures, finally evaporating in an ambiguous haze.” I often find these days that the notes by composers are more evocative than their music itself, but I am happy to report that this music spoke as eloquently here, like a winding journey inviting closed eyes and reflection. Mr. Fleitz seems to have made it a part of himself, even in his printed comments which stated “I am grateful for the chance to share my honest labor with you, and look forward to hearing about where your path through this landscape led you” (the latter part referring to Jeffrey Mumford’s piece yet to come, “a landscape of interior resonances”).

Mr. Fleitz has the gift of being able to deeply internalize his music while projecting equally well his vibrant conceptions, so I was eager to hear his Brahms Klavierstücke, Op. 118. He did not disappoint. From the impassioned opening Intermezzo in A minor to the ponderous closing Intermezzo in E-flat minor with its Dies Irae thematic connection, he held his audience rapt through all six pieces. His pacing of the G-minor Ballade‘s central section was well-conceived, and his sensitive rendering of the Romanze, with its glimmers of Lydian, was magical. I didn’t always agree with his pedaling, which seemed overly generous at times (especially in the second Intermezzo, but also at times in others, leaving me wishing that his curiously active left foot would switch with his right), but this is a debatable and personal quibble. His youthful penchant for extremes also led to some arguably harsh high points in the final piece, but I would opt for passion with some excess any day over the weak tea of many other pianists.

After a five-minute pause (the new pandemic “intermission”), we heard another world premiere, Time Present by composer Krists Auznieks (b. 1992) who happens to be Mr. Fleitz’s husband. The background of this piece is a bit lengthy to summarize in a simple review, but suffice it to say that the piece married other-worldly harmonies (bringing some colors of Messiaen to mind) with flashes of Scriabinesque ecstasy, all a good match for Mr. Fleitz’s all-embracing pianism.

Prelude by Julia Perry (1924-1979) offered a bluesy detour and chance to hear a seldom heard composer, and it was followed by the world premiere of a piece entitled Other of Two by Julie Zhu (b. 1990), inspired (and accompanied by a lengthy description of) the Tunguska meteor event of Siberia in 1908. Mr. Fleitz conveyed well its eeriness, devastation, and desolation.

In a surreal change of mood, the program shifted over to 1920’s Latvia and Paris, via the lush late Romantic Prelude No 2 in E Major by Lūcija Garūta (1902-1977), a Latvian who studied with Cortot and Dukas and reflected still more Scriabin influence. Mr. Fleitz was a persuasive advocate for her work, as for all that he played, including the concert’s finale, the three-movement work, a landscape of interior resonances by Jeffrey Mumford (b. 1955). Mr. Mumford describes this work as “a celebration of the piano as a sonorous resonating chamber” and it certainly did put the pianist through his paces in fiendish feats of complex virtuosity (not to mention memorization).

A standing ovation prompted an encore, and Mr. Fleitz chose the third of the Improvisos Op. 18 by José Vianna da Motta, dedicating it to his mother on her birthday with special mention of her Portuguese parents. It was a beautiful return to folk-inspired music and a special way to bring “home” this musical journey. I would hear a Robert Fleitz concert again in a heartbeat and look forward to following his career.

Gabriela Sandoval Requena, Executive Director

Patricio Molina, Ph.D., D.M.A, Artistic Director

Marina Catalan, Master of Ceremonies

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 15, 2021

The Notes for Growth Foundation, led by Gabriela Sandoval Requena and Patricio Molina, was the presenter of Tremün: Celebrating Indigenous Roots Concert, at Carnegie Hall on October 15, 2021. The foundation’s stated mission is as follows: “[we] strongly believe all children, no matter their present circumstances, should have the opportunity to benefit from music education.” The foundation operates in New York and New Jersey, as well as Chile. In the pre-concert introduction, it was stated that 34 pianos have been delivered to Chile and 6000 children who otherwise lacking access to music education have been reached. To learn more about this wonderful organization, follow this link: Notes for Growth.

Tremün means “growth” in Mapudungun, the language of the Mapuche people. The program featured music by and inspired by indigenous peoples around the world including Perú, México, Jamaica, and Chile. There were world premieres of works by five Chilean composers – Patricio Molina, Ramón Catalán, Aina Sandoval, Carlos Zamora, and Sebastián Vergara. Mr. Molina collaborated with Mapuche poets Roxana Miranda Rupailaf and María Lara Millapan setting two of their poems to music. Actress Marina Catalán was the Master of Ceremonies, introducing the performers and the works.

The printed program had QR codes about the program and artists – a very 21^st century touch. The reader should click on the following links to learn more about both: Program notes , Artist bios. There is also a documentary available to view about the making of the program: Tremün documentary. As it is not within the scope of this review to speak of each work and each artist, I offer my apologies and wish to express my admiration for all.

Let’s get the negatives out of the way first. I do have to mention (again) about concerts presenting so much material as less than ideal for all involved (and that’s not just the audience, but the performers themselves). I do understand the constraints placed on the presenters by the venue- in this case, 90 minutes without intermission. To present fifteen works in this timeframe had the effect of not allowing the listener to let a work “sink in” before the next was almost immediately launched. Even with the introductions of each work, there was never more than a minute between, for which I commend the artists for their organization and efficiency, but it seemed like an assembly line. I understand the motivation to present as much as possible, but maybe deleting two or so pieces would have helped.

Some of the works had moments where the music verged on sounding derivative (several brought to mind Chopin, Liszt, Bach, Beethoven, and even Yanni and Suzanne Ciani). One in particular could have been played over the 2^nd movement of Rachmaninoff’s 2^nd Piano Concerto without much harmonic or stylistic clash for the greater part of the piece. Just put this quibble in perspective, however, the audience either did not notice or care about such drawbacks and reacted with enthusiastic applause.

Enough about reservations. Let’s get to the good (and there was an abundance of good!). A general observation first: These are excellent musicians without any doubt. Vibrant and engaging playing/singing, true intonation, and superior ensemble balance were all there. It’s not as common as one might believe, as there are many times when some of these elements are either lacking or missing all together.

All the works presented had their merits and all could be discussed in depth, but I do wish to make special mention of two that stood out to this listener: Otoño en Tierra del Fuego (Autumn in the Land of Fire) by Aina Sandoval, a promising emerging talent, for the taut energy and colorful writing, and Kürüf (Wind), a haunting, apparition-like work for viola and piano, by Sebastián Vergara.

Patricio Molina’s works made a huge impression on this listener. His voice is distinctive – indeed I could not perceive any obvious antecedents (or even subtle ones!) – and his style is confident and assured. Mr. Molina knows his craft. He is the “real deal” in a world where many composers rely on gimmicks or obfuscations. Not only this, but he is also an excellent pianist and has a winsome personality, a true triple-threat! The setting of the two poems, Te Gusta Mi Bosque (You Like My Forest), and Kecha Tregülfe were evocative, bringing the simple power of these poems to life with his emotionally charged writing. El Condor Pasa: Fantasia for Violin and Piano is a showstopper, weaving a popular Peruvian folk melody into a true tour-de-force for the violinist. Alejandro Mendoza (described by Mr. Molina as “Chile’s greatest violinist”) played with élan, in the spirit of Paganini. All that was missing were sparks flying off his bow!

Not to take anything away from the other performers, but the addition of Verónica Villarroel was what took an enjoyable evening and launched it into the stars. Discovered by Renata Scotto and often compared to Maria Callas, Ms. Villarroel is one of the most prominent sopranos of our time. I’ve heard countless excellent singers, but even as jaded as I might be, I was completely transfixed by Ms. Villarroel’s voice and musical spirit. I think everyone in the audience had the same experience.

At the end, the audience reacted with a loud and extended standing ovation. All the performers took the stage for a final bow. I wish the Notes for Growth Foundation much luck and success in all that they bring to the world. Theirs is a noble mission.

Vocal Artists Management Services

James Greening-Valenzuela, Manager

Gretchen Greenfield, Artistic Consultant

OPERA America National Opera Center, Marc A. Scorca Hall, New York, NY

October 14, 2021

The specter of COVID-19 still rules our everyday lives. Passions burn white-hot about how to proceed, and uncertainty is the only thing of which one can be certain. The Arts are still feeling the effects as things are slowly reopening. This week’s showcase by Vocal Artists Management Services was the first concert this listener has attended in New York City in 19 months. The last concert was virtually days before life as we know came to a standstill, as the lockdown which was supposed to last a few weeks dragged on and on; though concert life has slowly restarted, it is still far from truly open, so this concert filled me with a sense of hope that life might return to some semblance of the way it was before the pandemic. I have grown weary of “virtual concerts” – it is a poor substitute for the live concert experience, and I fear that many have now come to expect “free content” as the new normal. Time will tell.

In the backdrop of all this, the Season Showcase by VAMS was their Twelfth, and nineteen (!) vocalists were to be featured, in either solo or duets. I suspect that this showcase was two years combined into one, so as to recapture the year we lost because of the pandemic. To add to the many details to take in, James Greening-Valenzuela, Manager of VAMS greeted the audience and announced alterations to the program.

As I have noted in previous reviews at this venue, the Marc A Scorca Hall at the OPERA America’s National Opera Center is very small with very live acoustics. The feel is intimate, like a salon, with the audience members very near the performers. The seats were all filled tonight, with some overflow (including those performers who has completed their selections and joined the audience to support their colleagues).

Now, on to the business at hand. A problem with a program with so many artists is two-fold. First, it places a heavy burden on the performers to be ready after a long wait, for what might about to be a very short time on stage. It is nearly impossible to be at one’s best in these circumstances, and it might have the consequence of giving the listener a misleading view of their true merits. Secondly, it is expecting a lot from the audience to focus on so many performers for an extended time. A fidgety, tired listener who just wants to get out is often the result. It was rather notable that the audience stayed engaged to the finish, which was a delight to see.

It is beyond the scope of this review to comment on each individual vocalist and each selection. I offer my sincere apologies to any artist whose performance is not mentioned. Rest assured that all are worthy of praise. I will give the complete list of the vocalists (in alphabetical order): Karen Albert, David Rivera Bozón, Lisa Bryce, Pedro Carreras, Jr., Sang Bum Cho, Alexandria Crichlow (who was unable to perform due to illness) Andrew Egbuchiem, Erin Hannon, Kate Kyunghee Kim, Laura Kimmel, Jin Uk Lee, Cynthia Leigh, Kelly Marel, Steven Andrew Murray, Roselin Osser, Eun-Ah Roh, Adriana Ruiz, Stacey Stofferahn, and Caroline Tye. Selections by Puccini, Verdi, Mozart, Wagner, Vivaldi, Handel, Offenbach, Mascagni, Carissimi, Sullivan were featured, with the addition of newer works by Rachel Portman and Jonatas Manzolli as well.

With this caveat in mind, I would like to highlight some selections that were noteworthy to me (in no particular order of merit), but before that I must give special mention to pianist Eric Malson, who was the unsung hero of the evening. It is heroic work to undertake the task of accompanying eighteen different singers, and he did so with what looked like practiced ease, as it was certainly not easy! Bravo!

For the soloists, the vocal gymnastics and projection of soprano Eun-Ah Roh, the innocent child-like beauty of the voice of countertenor Andrew Egbuchiem, the playful whimsy of soprano Roselin Osser’s The Fox’s Aria from Rachel Portman’s The Little Prince, and the ebullient tenor David Rivera Bozón, all made very strong impressions on this listener. Another special mention goes to soprano Laura Kimmel for her Letter Dropped from the Sky (a world premiere) with her own lyrics to the music of Jônatas Manzolli – it was hauntingly beautiful.

For the duets, the charming Barcarolle from Les contes d’ Hoffman from mezzo-soprano Caroline Tye and soprano Cynthia Leigh enchanted. The fiery passion of the Act I Love Duet from Tosca was on full display from soprano Stacey Stofferahn and tenor Pedro Carreras. Jr, and the monumental Dawn Duet from Götterdämmerung was given a passionate and powerful performance from soprano Lisa Bryce and tenor Steven Andrew Murray. Soprano Erin Hannon and baritone Jin Uk Lee ended the night in style with a showstopping duet from Act II of La Traviata. The power was electrifying – one could see the audience members held with rapt attention. Mr. Lee evidently had a fan base in attendance (a large group that greeted his arrival in the hall pre-concert with applause!) and he pulled out all the stops to delight them. Ms. Hannon most likely made many fans tonight with her fine work.

The audience reacted with a standing ovation. The performers all gathered on-stage for a group picture, Thank you VAMS and all participants for this evening. It was a joy to be back at a live concert again. Congratulations to all!

Adrienne Haan, chanteuse

Richard Danley, piano; Bart Shatto, chanteur; Mike Campenni, drums

Triad Theater, New York, NY

October 13, 2021

If indeed there is to be any hope for our fractured world, it is to be found in the power of music, on this occasion the specific gifts of Adrienne Haan. I have reviewed Ms. Haan several times in these pages, always with pleasure, and “One World” was no exception.

Ms. Haan is high-energy, which is not to say manic. In the intimate confines of the Triad Theater, the sheer power of her voice at climaxes was gratifying, and she also found the intimate moments when appropriate. She has the thing which cannot be taught: charm.

The program was a tour-de-force of linguistic investigation. I wish classical singers had such curiosity. A total of eleven languages were employed: English, French, German, Yiddish, Hebrew, Spanish, Swedish, Turkish, Luxembourgish, Mandarin, and finally Italian. The only one I found to be somewhat less idiomatic than the rest was the English. (And the final ‘e’ neutral in French.) And Ms. Haan doesn’t stop exploring: Zulu is on the menu for her next show.

I can guarantee that this is the only theatrical/cabaret show, perhaps anywhere, but certainly in the United States, where you will hear the Luxembourg national anthem, sung in Luxembourgish.

The playlist I was given announced that she would open with Kander and Ebb’s iconic Willkommen, Bienvenu, performed memorably by Joel Grey in Cabaret. Instead she gave us Liza’s (Minnelli) equally iconic Life is a Cabaret. That leads me to my only tiny quibble- I wish Ms. Haan would branch into the slightly more sinister, cynical, world-weary, louche, dangerous colors of cabaret. A largely see-through outfit isn’t going to satisfy that. Evidently that’s not really Ms. Haan’s temperament, and I can truly understand why, in view of the pandemic and various political evolutions to the “right” (the only pointed commentary she made), that she chose to keep things positive and harmonious.

For me, the most successful numbers (no surprise) were the Yiddish Bokserboym and the Hebrew song for the Holocaust remembrance of 2020 Rikmah Enoshit Achat (One Human Tissue), both sung with exquisite poignancy and identification.

Insistence on a perky up-tempo spoiled Besame mucho. She has a way of ending all the up-tempo songs with a sort of ‘whoop’ cry—once is fine, but not every time. Ms. Haan’s own composition Contemplation, sung in English, was lovely. Only in New York (Thoroughly Modern Millie) and La Vie en rose and Milord were well done. Although Haan’s repertoire covers songs etched permanently in our cultural collective memory by the famous: Minnelli, Andrews, Piaf, Dietrich, Aznavour, etc., what I so admire about her is that she never goes for a cheap imitation, she finds her own originality with the material, which is no mean feat.

I could have lived without the German version of Superfragilisticexpialidicious; and although I understand I’m in the minority, I absolutely cringe whenever I hear anything associated with Andrea Bocelli, in this case, Il Preghiere/The Prayer (wonderfully partnered with her regular singing partner Bart Shatto) and Con te partirò. For me, they’re clichéd, just not good as music, when there’s so much high-quality rarely performed material available. At this point, let me mention the superior quality of her music director, pianist Richard Danley, assisted by Mike Campenni on percussion.

This very generous program which began late was welcomed with enthusiasm by her devoted fans in the nearly sold-out Triad. As an encore, Ms. Haan offered a whirlwind tour of some early Broadway musical theater songs from Showboat, Porgy and Bess and the like, unchallenging for the listeners. One part of it, a frantic Summertime had the wrong mood. I urge Ms. Haan to continue to branch out, while acknowledging what a treasure she is in an increasingly shrinking field, and what pleasure her positivity brings to the world.