Emily-Jane Luo, piano

Merkin Concert Hall, Kaufman Center, New York, NY

September 19, 2021

For me, youth has always equated to bravery: bravery in selecting the most daunting repertoire, bravery in playing one of the first indoor solo recitals since the pandemic, bravery in billing it as one’s New York debut. As to the repertoire point, I’m quite on board with it, since if the pupil is apt, it is wise to familiarize neural connections with issues of speed, accuracy, and volume as early as possible.

Fifteen-year-old Emily-Jane Luo is no longer technically a child prodigy, though her early training and appearances qualify as such. She began piano studies at an early age, and has already been making the rounds of competitions, and had her orchestral concerto debut. Normally, I’m a bit leery of prodigies, only because I fear they may be over-developing one aspect of themselves at the expense of a holistic sense of self. I needn’t fear for Ms. Luo, for she also excels in science, writing, taekwondo, and French.

Her recital was exciting throughout, with fiery bravura technique, thoughtful phrasing, lots of temperament, and even an old-fashioned sense of the “big line,” which doesn’t get caught up in details but propels and keeps things together. She chose a program of fearsome difficulty that would make a colleague of four times her age sweat with anxiety.

Ms. Luo possesses that rare quality, an individualism, when the mass of other young pianists are striving to fit in and get “all the notes right.”

She will have time to develop more subtlety and control, but for now . . . wow! This was not careful, cookie-cutter playing. Tempi were sometimes pushed to the extreme (ah, youth!); however, a few seconds later, in a reflective passage, she had that rare ability to make time stop with her generous breathing. I, for one, am glad she wasn’t careful; had she played every single note correctly, I might have thought I was witnessing some supernatural evil contract with the devil.

As far as a debut recital is concerned, the program was short on the Classical period (Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and the like) and some twentieth century music (or twenty-first!) more adventurous than Rachmaninoff. I suspect she might be a great Prokofiev or Bartók pianist. It was also just an hour long (perhaps logistics of the hall), but what an hour!

This was also my first (COVID-19 “re-opening”) live indoor concert, and every melting phrase meant so much to me. Those who read my reviews regularly know how I value a fine set of program notes, which was provided here, though their author was uncredited (Ms. Luo?). Even the words to the Schubert Lieder transcribed by Liszt, so important to Liszt that he had them put in the published score, were printed.

Ms. Luo’s handling of the three Schubert songs (Ständchen, Gretchen am Spinnrade, Erlkönig) was divine. I’m going to be heretical here and say, one didn’t really miss the singer, her rendering was so complete, with great voicing and a “linguistic” musical phrase. Ms. Luo’s Ständchen was so seductive it would have made any lover hop out the bedroom window to join the beloved in the garden. The mad dash of the galloping horse in Erlkönig was thrilling. I’m glad these transcriptions are coming back to the recital stage more often. Once seen as nothing but show-off vehicles, they are in fact so much more, but only in the right hands.

Ms. Luo’s Bach C minor Partita I took some exception to, on two points: it was a shame to have the piece amputated of its dance movements (she played only the opening Sinfonia), and either she hasn’t been taught, or has made a deliberate decision not, to change the sixteenth notes in the French overture first part to thirty-second notes, which they should be. The second and especially the third sections of the Sinfonia were played too quickly, robbing them of depth. But, as one is playing on a nine-foot Steinway, perhaps Richard Taruskin is right about the illusion of authenticity.

She followed this immediately with two of Rachmaninoff’s sublime Etudes-Tableaux, one from Op. 33, G minor, and one from Op. 39, the famous E-flat minor. Both were played with command, poignancy, and grandeur: every opportunity was taken. Ms. Luo speaks this language quite naturally.

Then came the “center of gravity”: both books of Brahms’s Variations on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 35. This fiendish torture-chamber of pianistic difficulties showed off Ms. Luo’s many strengths, again particularly in the slower, more thoughtful variations, though there was great excitement in the headlong rapid ones. She knows how to vary voicing and dynamics upon the repeat of a section, a talent that is so necessary and valuable.

She favored the audience with an encore: one of Rachmaninoff’s Moments Musicaux, E Minor, Op. 16, No. 4, marked Presto, and was it ever! Ms. Luo, at this point completely unfettered, simply plunged into the maelstrom, and it was worth it.

I wish her all success in whatever she chooses to do with her music, or her other interests. Thank you, Emily-Jane.

Da Capo Chamber Players 50th Anniversary Celebration

A Conversation with Patricia Spencer

It is rare for any ensemble to reach fifty years with identity intact—a few string quartets, a piano trio have done so. The Da Capo Chamber Players have become known as a “Pierrot” ensemble—that is, their instrumentation (flute, clarinet, violin, cello, piano, with flute and clarinet doublings) is exactly that needed to perform Schoenberg’s seminal Pierrot lunaire with a vocal artist. And perform it indeed they have: “way back” with Bethany Beardslee, then Lucy Shelton numerous times (most recently in 2016, available on YouTube), and Elaine Bonazzi.

The legacy of Da Capo is a virtual encyclopedia of contemporary music in New York, America, and the world. They have commissioned a staggering 150 works over the years—think about it: that’s an average of three per year.

Earlier in 2021, despite the pandemic, the ensemble created a highly entertaining and educational web series Music for Human Rights ,with a wide range of different styles and cultures contained therein, not only in the music, but also in the informative discussions. (Still available on YouTube: Hearing the African-American Experience; Asian Echoes; and Paean to Merging Cultures)

I was able to sit down recently with the only founding member still active as performer, the legendary flutist Patricia Spencer, (she premiered the Elliott Carter Flute Concerto, and so many other works), for a wonderfully wide-ranging talk.

My first task was to peer into the origins of such a mixed ensemble in the year 1970. Ms. Spencer said that they gravitated around each other as a result of performing on a series that pianist/composer Joan Tower (another founding member) had organized at Greenwich House in New York. She also insisted strongly that they were always “people oriented,” there had to be the highest level of playing quality of course, but there had to be a simpatico too. If the originals had met an oboist instead of a clarinetist, the formation may have been different.

It didn’t take long for the group to achieve a prominent position in New York’s musical life. With a built-in composer, so to speak, they were able to commission and premiere works by Joan Tower, and Tower had the advantage of getting to hear those works under ideal conditions.

In 1973, a scant three years into its existence, Da Capo Chamber Players won the prestigious Walter W. Naumburg Award for chamber music, which came with a monetary grant for commissioning and a debut recital at Alice Tully Hall. That recital had two commissions, by Milton Babbitt and Harvey Sollberger, thus firmly cementing their reputation of working with the foremost living American composers, as well as advocating for American chamber music throughout the world.

And the awards would follow frequently: the Naumburg Foundation sponsored Da Capo’s tenth anniversary at Alice Tully Hall. The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation gave them a grant for creating guest composer residencies (1990-1993); Chamber Music America gave them the first prize award for Adventuresome Programming (1988), as well as three commissioning awards; National Endowment for the Arts Consortium Commissioning award, New York State Council on the Arts, and on it goes to the present day.

For their twentieth anniversary, Da Capo premiered eight pieces written for the occasion by Gunther Schuller, George Perle, Shulamit Ran, John Gibson, Stephen Albert, Bruce Adolphe, Richard Wilson, and Yehudi Wyner.

Skipping ahead, I asked Ms. Spencer, somewhat unfairly in light of fifty years, if she could pinpoint three absolute highlights of her Da Capo life. She reluctantly allowed as follows:

• Their residency tours to Russia and Belarus in 2003—2007, during which she said she became aware of the hunger of the young composers in these countries for exposure to this repertoire.
• The Chinary Ung series at the Smithsonian, and release of the all Chinary Ung CD in 2010, named by National Public Radio as one of the 5 Best Contemporary Classical CDs of the year.
• The 2012 centenary of Pierrot Lunaire with Lucy Shelton in New York and its reprise in Florida in 2016.

I asked her if the state of contemporary music was more vibrant now or in 1970, and she said definitely now, mainly due to the fact that there are so many more ensembles taking the leap and forming, commissioning works, and spreading their individual niche missions. She emphasized that quality must always be the touchstone.

Working with so many composers, Ms. Spencer said that Da Capo always proceeded from the general to the specific, that is, the ensemble’s thematic concept and the genesis of a work from a specific composer was primary, more than any considerations of whether they would be able to play it (!).

In their early concerts, because of the challenging nature of the scores, each work was performed twice, hence the name Da Capo, “from the beginning” in music. A valuable luxury that they eventually had to sacrifice to keep concert length and variety feasible; but the name stuck. I also asked her about getting the second performance, meaning that premieres are easy, but does a work actually enter the repertoire? Da Capo has a strong record here, with many of its works displaying staying power.

Funding is always an issue, especially when commissioning so many works—Spencer is also the group’s grant writer, an occupation for which many non profits have a full-time person. They have been fortunate not only in grants, but private donations, and once their reputation was made by the Naumburg, many composers “gave” works to Da Capo, knowing they would receive the best possible premieres. Some of the private funders are: Aaron Copland Fund for Music; Alice M. Ditson Fund of Columbia University; Amphion Foundation; Hulbert Charitable Trust; The Fan Fox and Leslie R. Samuels Foundation; Trust for Mutual Understanding (Tours to Russia and Belarus); The Zethus Fund; and numerous individuals.

The ensemble has a democratic system as to choosing which works to perform, with no one person controlling, and everyone having a vote. From time to time (though rarely) if one or two of them don’t care for the work, the mutual respect they have for each other demands that they give it their all, and no one is the wiser for it—a process that all ensembles would be smart to employ.

One of Ms. Spencer’s real joys is the educational mission of the group, as experienced mainly though numerous residencies in colleges (notably Bard) and even high schools, where they get to humanize the face of contemporary or “art” music through interactive classes and workshops, thereby sharpening the skills of their own audiences. They also have always had a mission to bring the composers into contact with the listeners, removing the sense of the “isolated genius” working on a metaphoric remote mountaintop.

The coming New York season, the extended observance of the fiftieth anniversary, has not set exact dates and location, but is planned for spring 2022, with the theme “Bridges.” Three concerts: Bridging Eras, Bridging Cultures, and Bridging Styles are outlined, each with a major commission (Bruce Adolphe, Shirish Korde, and David Sanford). I humorously suggested that with all those bridges, perhaps funding could be secured from the Infrastructure bill.

The current members of Da Capo are: Patricia Spencer, flute; Marianne Glythfeldt, clarinet; Curtis Macomber, violin; Chris Gross, cello; Steven Beck, piano.

Rest assured that there is no “double bar” for this ensemble, they will keep circling back “to the beginning” with their music-making joy. I was reminded of the Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot: “We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time.”

Curated and performed by Elizaveta Ulakhovich, soprano; Perry Sook, baritone

Pianists: Sergey Iorov (episodes 1, 5, 6), Dmitry Myachin (episodes 2, 3, 4)

Directed by Nicholas Grisham

Edited by John Jackson

Voiceover by Victoria Rae Sook

An innovative and intriguing synthesis of two art forms, born in part from a sense of the anxiety and idleness caused by the pandemic, can be found in a forthcoming series of YouTube videos by two up-and-coming opera singers: Elizaveta Ulakhovich and Perry Sook. I sat down recently with the engaging (and married) couple to hear about their process.

Elizaveta has impressive credentials from the Saint Petersburg conservatory and has already sung at the Bolshoi Theater in standard and contemporary opera and numerous recitals, and Perry is a Texas-born, Oklahoma educated star of many musical theater productions, notably Shrek, who is transitioning to opera. He is also an entrepreneur of fashionable sportswear.

The web series is the accidental result of a planned recital that was to take place in an art gallery—before the pandemic and its restrictions. The couple invented a frame story while sitting on their couch talking, a setting that is shown in the first episode. The pretext is that they have enrolled in an online art course to enrich their suddenly experienced surplus of free time. While examining the works of art, they experience feelings which are then correlated to certain arias—one painter and one composer per episode.

Episode 1, “What You Choose,” featured biographical details about Frida Kahlo, signature images by her, and parallels to emotions found in two arias by Handel, from Cleopatra and Berenice. Liza, as she is familiarly known, hastened to tell me that the music always comes first when they are developing a program. Only after deliberating on the emotions expressed in the music are they led to seek a connection in the visual.

Their mission statement includes the phrase “familiarity and fun,” and the cozy domesticity captured in the episode certainly demystifies what may be for many the stuffiness of grand opera.

One fascinating aspect of the Kahlo/Handel episode is the original recitatives, composed or assembled by Ms. Ulakhovich herself. They are uncannily Baroque yet with the couple singing in conversational English to each other, the recitatives seem of this moment too.

In the future, they wish to delve even deeper into the painters’ lives, with biographical detail, anecdote, and image.

The series is constantly evolving, as their thoughts and feelings do. And here’s something for the online age: they actually invite disagreement, which may be expressed in the comment section of the YouTube videos. If a viewer feels the mirroring isn’t quite the “right one,” he/she is urged to suggest another. Seeing more art, education, and good fact checking are all part of the singers’ esthetic.

Their goal for a post-pandemic musical world would be to give immersive recitals, in non-traditional venues, perhaps with projections or actual paintings and sculpture. United Arts Studies is a nonprofit organization with a mission to educate and inspire.

There are six episodes planned (four completed), released on the fourth Thursday of each month: June 24, July 22 (Klimt), August 26 (Botticelli), September 23 (Dali), and so forth. A secret word has it that the audience will be seeing Mr. Sook as Don Carlo, filmed on the Nevsky Prospect in Saint Petersburg. Don’t miss it!

(Website: United Arts Studies on YouTube or their own website, www.unitedartsstudies.com)

“Midnight in Paris”: Bloomingdale School of Music “Performathon” Scholarship benefit

Daniel Lamas, viola

Weiwei Zhai, piano

May 15, 2021

Mon Dieu, que j’adore… oops. I mean, my goodness, how I love French music. I have, as we all have, been so starved for the lively arts, especially classical music, during the pandemic, that when a video of this recent recital at Bloomingdale School of Music was sent to me, it was manna from heaven.

Two artists previously unknown to me, violist Daniel Lamas and pianist Weiwei Zhai, presented a thoughtful short recital of music, some lesser known and one fragment of a warhorse.

Chilean born Mr. Lamas, who has a wide range of experience in orchestras and chamber music, is currently a faculty member (viola, violin, chamber music) of this valuable institution on the upper west side of Manhattan, as well as owner of his own string studio. His training includes both the Manhattan School of Music and the Paris Conservatoire. His philosophy of teaching is “to instruct with care and nurturing,” exactly as he and his partner handled this program.

Ms. Zhai, born and raised in Chengdu, China, is on the piano faculty of the Bloomingdale School. She is currently finishing her doctorate degree at the Manhattan School of Music with legendary pedagogue Solomon Mikowsky. She has won numerous awards in competitions and performed in her native land and Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall..

Their performance was absolutely gorgeous throughout (even with the limited fidelity of online video) as to sonority and especially style. Clarity, simplicity, and accuracy. Really, what more can one ask of French music interpretation?

Darius Milhaud was said to be able to set the phone book to music, so prolific and varied was his ability. A member of the Les Six artist group, he had a strong neoclassical aesthetic, often overshadowed by his penchant for polytonality and Latin rhythms, the result of his trip to Brazil as ambassador Paul Claudel’s secretary in 1917. The excerpt (II. Français) from his First Sonata for Viola and Piano, Op. 240, revels in this classicism; a contemporary layering atop themes from the eighteenth century. It was played with great style and verve by the duo.

The Trois pièces (composed 1914, published 1915, originally for cello and piano) by Nadia Boulanger display her mastery of compositional craft, the kind that was expected of everyone at the Paris Conservatoire, even if they didn’t go into it professionally. Of course, the world knows her better as an inspiring teacher, with her younger sister Lili, the first female winner of the Prix de Rome, remembered as the composer. These three mood-pictures are delicate, generally in the early twentieth century post-Impressionist manner, and they were given perfect performances.

The Finale of the Franck Sonata was played with enthusiasm and grace—and moreover, it never sounded “difficult” -no mean feat. Another astounding example of French craft, the strict canon between violin and piano never sounds “academic.” I certainly want to hear these two musicians live, and hear the three preceding movements leading up to this one.

So, this was a very satisfying “appetizer” and now I want a banquet from this duo, s’il vous plait!

DongYeob Kang, violist, YoungSung Park pianist

The Artist’s House in Seoul, South Korea

Streamed live and available on YouTube.com

July 26, 2020

Among the many valiant musicians who have kept music going through the pandemic, there ought to be a special award for those who fulfilled their commitments to live concerts – intrepid winners of “The Show Must Go On” awards. Noteworthy among such performers is Parisian-born Korean violist DongYeob Kang, who with pianist YoungSung Park performed a richly varied recital of Bruch, Prokofiev, York Bowen, and Paul Coletti (b. 1959) for a live audience of masked but enthusiastic listeners in Seoul, South Korea, July 26, 2020. That concert was live streamed and is still available via YouTube using the following link: DongYoeb Kang in Concert July 26, 2020

For detailed information on Mr. Kang the reader may visit his website www.kangviola.com, but for a bit of background, Mr. Kang has received an substantial list of prizes and distinctions, has performed in numerous well-known festivals and venues including Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall in New York (2018 debut), and is currently pursuing his doctorate with fellowships at the University of Texas at Austin. He is also a graduate of Indiana University as a student of Atar Arad and holds a Bachelor’s degree from Yonsei University in Seoul where he studied with SangJin Kim. In addition, he recently completed his Artist Diploma at the Colburn Conservatory of Music in Los Angeles where he studied with Paul Coletti, who composed two of the pieces on the program, Fantasia for Solo Viola and From My Heart.

Mr. Kang gets kudos for his choice of works on this sumptuous program, starting with the underperformed Romanze for Viola and Piano in F major, Op.85, by Max Bruch. Though scored for viola and orchestra, it works beautifully in recital with viola and piano. Mr. Kang’s sound here is warm and well-controlled, and he shows a true affinity for Bruch’s Romantic spirit. There are moments where one might want a bit more abandon, where some phrases seem to cry out for more momentum, but it is overall a pleasure to hear. It doesn’t hurt that this soulful 1911 work is being played on a soulful instrument from the same year, a 1911 Giovanni Battista Gaibisso viola.

Moving on to an arrangement by Vadim Borisovsky of Sergei Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet, Op.64, Mr. Kang is again impressive. The arranger Borisovsky was himself a fine violist, a performer and professor at the Moscow Conservatory, and he knew well how to simulate the optimal orchestral range of colors with two instruments. This whole suite is a delight, and Mr. Kang seems to relish the virtuosity and wide variety of colors and timbres right from the Introduction. Brisk bowing and finger-work enhance the Young Juliet movement’s playful spirit, and the duo’s contrasting lyricism is effective as well. The third movement of the suite, the Dance of the Knights (also known as The Montagues and the Capulets), storms just as it should, with much credit going to the pianist YoungSung Park who sets the fierce tone of the opening chords, maintaining a sure orchestral foundation while synchronizing beautifully with the viola. Mr. Park again deserves praise for the final Balcony Scene where he is something of an unsung hero, unassumingly handling its complex textures and considerable demands. The two performers work admirably together. For Mr. Kang, what will raise this suite to an even higher level will be to let it transcend beyond the viola challenges to embrace an even broader orchestral conception. Part of that will include relaxing with some of the less intense viola parts to enjoy what “the rest of the orchestra”- i.e., the pianist here – does.

One of the highlights of the program, Paul Coletti’s Fantasia for Solo Viola, follows, essentially a three-minute cadenza with plenty of fiery display. Perhaps because of its solo improvisatory nature or the fact that Mr. Kang studied with the composer, Mr. Kang seems especially at home with this piece. It has a fresh, free-wheeling quality, and lots of panache. Similarly comfortable is the next work, From My Heart, also by Paul Coletti. Mr. Park rejoins Mr. Kang for this much more meditative piece, and the two seem to savor its nostalgic mood, somewhat reminiscent of an old film score with a helping of schmaltz. Some of Mr. Kang’s best playing comes here, honeyed tones with liberal stretching and absolutely no suggestion that any technical matters ever cross his mind.

The Phantasy in F major for Viola and Piano, Op.54 by York Bowen (1884-1961) caps off the program beautifully. I’ve long thought that the music of York Bowen is unjustly neglected, though some of his piano works have been recorded (by Joop Celis, Danny Driver, and perhaps most notably by Stephen Hough). Bowen’s work has a luscious heart-on-sleeve Romanticism with hints of Rachmaninoff, Delius, and others from the turn of the 19-20th century, but with his own distinct sound. This Phantasy is a powerful finale for any viola-piano team that can handle it, and the team of Kang and Park does so superbly. They bring lyricism and bravura playing together with unity of spirit and conception. Only some slight momentary roughness towards the end betrays any hint of flagging, and that says a lot for such a demanding program.

An encore follows, Contemplation, arranged after the Five Lieder, Op. 105, No. 1 by Brahms. Some may know the arrangement by Jascha Heifetz for violin, and though we are not told the name of the arranger here, this arrangement sounds similar, so it may very well have been simply adapted for viola. It closes the concert with a gentle prayerful feeling all too appropriate for the middle of the year 2020. Bravo to DongYeob Kang and Bravo to YoungSung Park!

A word to the wise for those who want to hear this concert: there is a silence of more than three minutes at the beginning (and I thought my computer was not working until I saw some motion on the progress bar), so perhaps skip to the 3:13 point (or closer to 4:00 to miss the tuning). Also, without some premium YouTube membership, there will be ads coming at the very worst points in the music – a crime. Let’s hope this duo will make a DVD soon.

The entire concert is at the presenters’ link posted in the first paragraph, but the reader can also visit Mr. Kang’s own YouTube Channel: www.youtube.com/DongYeobKang.

Personal Demons: Lowell Liebermann, pianist, in music of Liszt, Schubert, Busoni, Miloslav Kabeláč, and Lowell Liebermann, Steinway & Sons 30172

Turning in Time: Kinga Augustyn, violinist, in music of Elliott Carter, Luciano Berio, Krzysztof Penderecki, Grażyna Bacewicz, Isang Yun, and Debra Kaye, Centaur Records CRC3836

American Violin Sonatas: Ting-Lan Chen, violin; Nathan Buckner, piano, in music of Rubin Goldmark and Alexander Reinagle, Albany Records TROY1840

News of quarantines and lockdowns may accentuate what musicians have not been doing, but what some have been doing is quite exciting, and three recordings that landed in my mailbox are good examples. Two are of new or unfamiliar violin music (solo and with piano) released within the past few months, and one is a two-CD set of all solo piano music to be released February 5.

Though the three recordings are quite different, they all share the qualities of exploration – exploration of deferred personal repertoire dreams (or “personal demons” in the case of Lowell Liebermann’s CD), exploration of expanding roles as performer and composer (in Personal Demons as well as American Violin Sonatas), and the exploration of how our music connects us to other periods in history (in all three, but overtly in Kinga Augustyn’s Turning in Time).

***

Starting with the upcoming release, it is an honor to recommend the double-CD set on the Steinway & Sons label entitled Personal Demons, featuring world-renowned composer Lowell Liebermann (lowellliebermann.com), one I’ve admired for several decades. Here he is heard in the role of pianist. Though there is nothing new about Lowell Liebermann’s pianistic strengths (as the idiomatic keyboard writing in his compositions will attest), Personal Demons marks his first solo CD in which he is the pianist, and he is outstanding.

In addition to playing his own Gargoyles, Apparitions, and Nocturne, No. 10, Op. 99 – an education for those who have played these – he offers a selection of formidable works by other composers. As Mr. Liebermann writes, “Personal Demons consists of music that I have been personally haunted by – pieces written by other composers that have preoccupied me and inspired me for most of my compositional career, ones that ‘I wish I wrote.’ Framing these are three of my own pieces that have special significance for me.”

Least known on the two discs may be the Preludes, Op. 30 of Czech composer Miloslav Kabeláč (1908-1979), which bear some kinship to the music of Kabeláč’s countryman Janáček. Kabeláč has a highly sympathetic interpreter in Lowell Liebermann, and these miniatures emerge as treasures. Some musicians may be inspired to purchase the set for these gems alone, but Mr. Liebermann closes the first disc with the hair-raising Totentanz of Franz Liszt, which he plays with ferocity – and then there’s disc two.

On the set’s second disc, after his own marvelous Apparitions, Mr. Liebermann plays the Variations on a Theme of Hüttenbrenner, D. 576, by Franz Schubert, a composer whose music he cherishes, as he reveals in his personal and informative program notes. The D. 576 Variations are striking for their harmonic twists and turns, and though some pianists (the relatively few who play them) tend to smooth things over as if to disguise what may be perceived as quirks, they are all consciously laid out here in what is a faithful and insightful performance.

As if these works were not already enough unusual fare to draw pianophiles, Mr. Liebermann includes the monstrous Fantasia Contrappuntistica (solo piano version) by Ferrucio Busoni. The latter is a notoriously massive undertaking, musically and pianistically – Herculean striving with Bachian inspiration at its core. To be frank, I’ve never taken to this piece and would probably only enjoy it upon consumption of some mind-expanding drug, but Mr. Liebermann’s version will undoubtedly take an important place alongside the not too numerous versions available. Bravo for taking it on – and with mastery!

For this listener, a high point was hearing the closing work, Mr. Liebermann’s own Nocturne No. 10, Op. 99, written in memory of the composer Gian Carlo Menotti. Between the potent lyricism of the composition itself and the expressive performance, it is extremely moving, making a fitting closing statement to follow so many pianistic adventures.

Speaking of adventures, one reads in the credits that Mr. Liebermann recorded these two discs in August and November of 2020, mid-pandemic, at the studio of recording wizard Sergei Kvitko in Lansing, Michigan; this was at a time when many were reluctant to step outside, let alone travel from the East coast. Congratulations are in order to all involved in this meaningful achievement.

***

Switching gears to violin it is a pleasure to recommend the new CD Turning in Time (released by Centaur Records in 2021), featuring all solo works played by young violinist Kinga Augustyn, whose career I’ve followed for about a decade now (kingaaugustyn.com). Ms. Augustyn has the natural musicality, keen intellect, and highly developed technique to turn the thorniest of compositions into child’s play, and so it is hard to imagine a better advocate than she is for a program of such challenging violin works of the 20th and 21st centuries.

According to the author of the program notes, Ted Mirecki, the term “modern” in music is often used in a pejorative sense to denote “a radical departure from the past”, and in his words “this collection refutes that conception – it demonstrates that musical ideas, turning in time, represent a continuum over the past several centuries. Specifically, the spirit of J. S. Bach pervades many of the works.” (The latter is a worthy connection to strive to hear, though of course the listener hoping for something resembling Bach tonally may be surprised.)

Starting off with Four Lauds of Elliott Carter, (dedicated to musicians Aaron Copland, Goffredo Petrassi, Robert Mann, and Roger Sessions), Ms. Augustyn opens with a beautiful sound right from the start. One is reminded of yet another reason “modern” is sometimes used pejoratively, and the reason is that not every violinist is Kinga Augustyn! The screeching and scratching that some associate with the music of our time may often be due not to the compositions but to the players; Ms. Augustyn, though, has intonation so true and a tone so singing that one can imagine a listener actually humming a few bars of Four Lauds after hearing her. One is not told whether Elliott Carter (who passed away in 2012) ever heard Ms. Augustyn play these, but one can imagine that he would have been delighted to know and work with her.

Fortunately, two composers heard on this disc did meet this violinist, and two World Premieres of their works are presented here, the Capriccio (2008) by Krzysztof Penderecki (1933-2020) and the title work, Turning in Time (2018) by Debra Kaye (b. 1956).

The Penderecki Capriccio is highly virtuosic in what is described in the booklet notes as a “neo-Romantic” (imagine a Paganini work updated with wider range, playing behind the bridge, etc.). This piece seems absolutely tailor-made for Ms. Augustyn, who has recorded all the Paganini Caprices and could probably toss them off while catching a train. A 2013 photo in the CD booklet of a smiling Penderecki with Ms. Augustyn seems to foretell of this impressive premiere, though the notes don’t mention the details of whether he heard it or not before he passed away in 2020 (the recording sessions were in 2017, 2018, and 2019 at Martin Patrych Studios in New York, engineered by the much sought-after Joseph Patrych).

Turning in Time, the final track and title work for the CD, was written expressly for Ms. Augustyn, who requested from composer Debra Kaye that it make reference to Bach’s Chaconne from the Partita No. 2 in D minor, and it is a tour de force. It is (in the composer’s words), “21st century music periodically interspersed with Bach-like phrases, motifs returning in new variations, juxtaposing past and present, reflecting on things that have changed and what remains the same, in a conversation between the ‘then’ and the ‘now’.” Ms. Augustyn conveys all of this, and the highly expressive ending phrase from the Bach Chaconne itself leaves one with chills after so much dissonance. One can’t help thinking how interesting it would be to pair this in a concert with the entire Bach Partita No. 2 – what better way to illustrate the proposed continuum than to integrate eras and styles?

Other works on the CD are Luciano Berio’s Sequenza VIII (1976), an exhaustive exploration of an adjacent-note motif, Grazyna Bacewicz’s Sonata No. 2 (1958), given a lucid and cohesive rendition here, and Isang Yun’s compelling Bachian work, Königliches Thema (1976). As well-conceived as the CD is, each work on it deserves to be heard in its own space, which is another good reason for the serious listener to own the CD and spread out the listening. Brava!

***

We’ve now recommended a piano CD followed by a violin CD, and we’ll close by recommending a disc of music for piano and violin, entitled American Violin Sonatas (Albany Records). It features World Premiere recordings of two works that are quite late in achieving this distinction, the Sonata in B minor, Op. 4 of Rubin Goldmark (1872-1936), and the Sonata in F Major (c. 1790) of Alexander Reinagle (1756-1809), composed around a century apart. The artists are violinist Ting-Lan Chen and pianist Nathan Buckner, who have performed worldwide, working with many of the greatest musicians of our day, and who are currently Professors of Violin and Piano respectively at the University of Nebraska-Kearney.

On top of offering the pleasure of musical discovery, this CD is important historically for filling in gaps in the discography of American music. If one wants to learn about American violin-piano concert music before 1900 (aside from a couple of other composers such as Beach and Foote), a key figure to know is Reinagle. He was central in Philadelphia musical life from his arrival to the US in 1786, and though some may know of his four largescale works dubbed the “Philadelphia” Sonatas, the Sonata in F recorded here has remained unknown in what is believed to be its intended form, due to a missing violin part, either lost or not notated (though there is a recording of it as a piano piece – and in comparing recorded versions, one will notice that the addition of a sustaining instrument affords a much more spacious feel, encouraging a slower tempo in the last movement and naturally adding variety of line and texture).

Enter pianist Nathan Buckner, who with some creative scholarship, imagination, and the musicological equivalent of time travel, created a violin part for it in 2015. One could almost miss from the liner notes that he was the one behind this completion, though his work qualifies as a kind of composing; many pianists might be announcing the upcoming publication of their “signature edition” but not here (though by the way, where and when will that printed edition be available?). Mr. Buckner describes the violin part as filling “the modest English role for the violin typical of Clementi’s work rather than Mozart’s more elaborate use.” In any case, a recital-worthy sonata has been reborn, and it received its recorded premiere just a few months ago in October of 2020.

All that background would be chiefly of theoretical interest without musical quality, but Mr. Buckner and Ms. Chen join in a seamless collaboration of polish and grace. They place the music front and center at all times, and it is a joy to hear. They enhance what the music has to offer, its thematic interest, thoughtful development, drama, and lyricism. The third movement has an infectious energy that brings Haydn and other Classical greats to mind.

In addition to the Reinagle, the CD features the premiere of Rubin Goldmark’s Sonata in B minor, Op. 4. For those unfamiliar with Goldmark, he was a pupil of Dvorak and a teacher in New York whose many illustrious students included Gershwin and Copland. He was Chair of Composition for the newly created Juilliard School starting in 1924 but sometimes is lost in history’s shuffle next to his musical uncle, Karl Goldmark. His Sonata in B minor is yet another great discovery, this time in a late Romantic vein, with some noticeable influence of Brahms and Dvorak for obvious reasons. It is a sprawling work, overflowing with impassioned phrases and harmonies and quite demanding for both instruments, but, thanks to the ample technique, sensitivity, and cohesion in the duo of Chen and Buckner, the performance invites the listener in to love it. One wants to hear it repeatedly (and really should in order to assimilate it fully) – especially that sumptuous second movement – so it will be one to own.

Both Reinagle and Goldmark were recorded in July of 2018, at the Foellinger Great Hall at Krannert Center for the Performing Arts, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, with excellent recording/engineering by Graham Duncan and Richard Scholwin. Collectors and music lovers may find the recording here and other major music CD vendors:

American Violin Sonatas.

The McCormick Percussion Group

Robert McCormick, director

Julia Keller, double bass; Eunmi Ko, piano; Sini Virtanen, violin

Ravello Records

Catalog #: RR8037

A very stimulating recent arrival across my pandemic-starved desk was Strings & Hammers, a CD of contemporary music with strong social consciousness themes underlying each work. Of course, the critic’s job is to state if the music works “as music” without reference to the declared program. I am happy to report that this recording does so amply.

The very resourceful pianist Eunmi Ko had the initial idea for this suite of works. She is a member of the unusual piano trio “Strings & Hammers” (piano, violin, double bass), though I have heard her shine in more traditional repertoire (Eunmi Ko in Review ). She is a well-known champion of contemporary and under-programmed music, to which her virtuosity adds the excitement that may just get people interested in it.

Ms. Ko bravely dares to do what generations of piano teachers have insistently tried to eradicate from their students: recognize the essential percussive nature of the instrument. Of course, hammers do rise and strike strings, and sound immediately begins to decay—this is just physical fact. Any “singing tone” we impart to the piano is caused by mastering aural illusions through creative use of the pedal and gentle transmission of energy from the fingers, combined with the listener’s willingness to sustain tone in the mind. Ms. Ko’s repertoire of colors prevents her from sounding harsh however, and with the wide variety of repertoire on this disc, the ear never tires.

The opening work is Anthony R. Green’s Piano Concerto: Solution, commissioned by Ms. Ko and Mr. McCormick. The two movement titles, Tension and Solution, are a clever play on the harmony terms tension and resolution. Tension opens with three and a half minutes of kinetic energy and a piano solo that, due to Mr. Green’s compositional skill and Ms. Ko’s playing, makes the soloist sound like she has at least three hands, so instantaneous are her shifts from both extremes of the keyboard to whirring material in the middle register. Had Debussy lived another hundred years, I imagine Mouvement from Images, premier livre could have sounded like this. At this three-and-a half minute mark, clapping, footwork, brushing, and eventually vocalizations begin to cooperate and contrast with the piano part in rhythmically complicated patterns that gradually subside to the end of the movement. The second movement, Solution, begins shrouded in darkness and mystery in the piano, though it does “wake up” about three minutes in. Perhaps solutions are not easily gained. The sonorities are hauntingly beautiful.

Eduardo Costa Roldán’s Pulsar thrives marvelously on the extremes of sonority that are obtainable when piano, violin, double-bass, and percussion combine. The shifting rhythmic patterns, cleverly united through a constant pulse, provide maximum interest. The work builds to a climax and then seems to vanish into cold, interstellar space.

Memento Mori (a reminder of one’s mortality) by Emily Koh begins with ominous rumblings in the percussion, followed by the lowest notes of the double-bass, which is cleverly combined with the violin to create one “super” instrument. This seems to open up a cavernous tomb-space into which have fallen: humanity, civility, morals, courage, empathy, compassion, logic, common sense, and backbone (according to the composer). The work ends with the highest whistle-tone harmonics the violin can provide. Is it a message of angelic hope? Whether this work succeeds as a “charge for those who still stand righteous and strong to fight back and never back down” is for each listener to determine. Ms. Koh calls this work a surreptitious “concerto for superbass and percussion.”

Ice Concerto (for violin solo and percussion ensemble) by Jarkko Hartikainen was commissioned by this recording’s virtuoso soloist: Sini Virtanen. It represents its titular element in all its shifting forms—as temperatures rise (climate change) the ice becomes water, even gas. Overall, the work does create a frozen, glassy effect. Things “heat up” approaching the end, but they subside into eerie high pizzicati in the violin.

Before I speak of the concluding work, a word about the McCormick Percussion Group—these players are at the top of their game. Their virtuosity on the stunningly wide array of instruments, coupled with sensitivity to the huge variety of sonorities called for, makes for unparalleled performances.

Alessandro Annunziata’s often jazzy Apollon is an ingenious evocation of the Greek god of music, prophecy, and healing. The three sections, played without pause, are titled Delphoi (the oracle), Logos (the word), and Ekstasis (the state of being beside, or outside, oneself). It is scored for piano and six percussionists. I’m almost certain that the traditional piano teachers mentioned above would be very happy with Ms. Ko’s beautiful tone throughout. After one has been to the oracle and received the word, one is indeed transported ‘outside’ oneself.

This disc may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you try it, I guarantee that your listening will be expanded to include a wider scope of sound, beautifully played. The physical disc is nicely produced, and the recorded sound is beautiful.

Aliya Turetayeva, piano

KNS Classical

Kazakhstan-born Aliya Turetayeva’s new album is devoted to two major solo piano works by Schumann: the Piano Sonata No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22, and the large set of “fantasies in the style of Callot” (Schumann’s original subtitle) called Kreisleriana, inspired by E.T.A. Hoffmann. The two works enjoy certain similarities, including G minor/B-flat major polarity, constant rhythmic displacement, and white-hot restlessness. Strictly speaking, of course, the sonata is not a fantasy, but I’d like to think the pianist is hearkening to the German word Phantasie (imagination), with which Schumann was abundantly blessed.

In the first movement of the sonata, Ms. Turetayeva plays with uncommon musicality and detailed phrasing, however, the movement is marked so rasch wie möglich (as fast as possible, a typical hyperbolic indication by Schumann), and Ms. Turetayeva never sounds quite breathless enough, or “on the absolute limit” of what is achievable. She often breathes deeply between phrases, normally an admirable quality, but one which interrupts the collective rush. I’d like to hear the same thoughtfulness kicked up two notches.

The second movement, Andantino, is a reworking of one of Schumann’s early songs: Im Herbste (In Autumn, poem by Kerner), and here Ms. Turetayeva’s pianism is gorgeously still and full of quiet longing: “Be silent, you little birds,/So that I, I alone,/May sing and blossom for her.” Both the Scherzo and the concluding Rondo: Presto share the same lack of extremity that I noted in the first movement. Clearly, Ms. Turetayeva is a wonderful lyrical player, and it is a pleasure to hear a young pianist who considers every note and phrase deeply, but when in Schumann’s world, one has to partake of the disturbed quality or it all winds up sounding a bit cautious—a little more Florestan to balance the Eusebius.

Ms. Turetayeva fares much better in the eight pieces of Kreisleriana, a diary of pathological sensitivity, where she begins with exactly that passionate surge I wished for earlier. Her imagination is quite original, and she takes the middle section of the first piece a lot slower than the two outer sections, which is a valid choice, however, I’d suggest she explore keeping the same tempo to see if anything occurs to her.

In the second piece, Ms. Turetayeva hesitates before every downbeat in the theme that recurs so often. If it were done once, it could be very effective. She plays the longer second edition (overseen by Clara Schumann and Brahms), which some scholars say should be retired, for it makes nearly everything symmetrical, adding repeats where Schumann didn’t want them and occasionally removing them where he did. Clara, ever the performer, pleaded with the composer to write something “a bit more comprehensible” for her audiences, saying that these pieces “frightened” her. Although Schumann claimed to have composed the set in four days, it underwent a very long period of revision (at least five years).

The fourth piece is another highlight, leading directly into a wonderfully light and spirited rendition of the fifth. I suspected that Ms. Turetayeva’s rendition of the sixth piece would be wonderful, and it did not disappoint, with its fragmented reference to the Grossvatertanz (concluding piece played at every ball, also found in Papillons and Carnaval). There was plenty of fire in the seventh piece, though she did render some portato indications as outright staccati. The final piece was beautifully played, but I prefer a bit more of the “death on a pale horse” quality- Erlking galloping away with his victim. Ms. Turetayeva has a habit of repeating the exact rubato on every recurrence of a phrase, and the downbeat hesitation again interferes with ideal accumulation of panicked momentum.

For those who like their Schumann ultra-contemplative, this is the recording for you. The program notes are very heartfelt, though they could have used closer inspection by someone fluent in English, and the recorded sound is a bit “close” for my taste, but it enables one to hear Ms. Turetayeva’s detailed account of this complex music. Congratulations to Ms. Turetayeva, I’m sure she will go far in her career.

Vladimir Tiagunov, pianist

Released by Record Union, May 6, 2020

Catalog Number: RU 233600

UPC: 7321170125946

It is a brave new world for this classical music reviewer to receive a Spotify link to review an album, but that was the case with a new recording released on the Record Union platform by pianist Vladimir Tiagunov (vladimirtiagunov.com), a young pianist with considerable passion and drive.

Not a “cookie-cutter” pianist, Mr. Tiagunov is a pianist of bold gestures, projecting a large spirit but sometimes a nonchalance about details. Those “details” here include the instrumental sound and editing, so this recording is neither for the faint of heart nor for lovers of the pristine; it promises, however, not to be dull.

Mr. Tiagunov’s programming is also largescale. Here he plays a generous and demanding recital of Beethoven’s Sonata in F minor Op. 57 (Appassionata), Schubert’s Fantasy, Op. 15 (Wanderer), the second (A-flat major) of the Moments Musicaux D. 780, six Chopin Études from Op. 10, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Though no details of recording are given (where it all was recorded, by whom and when, and whether in several days or in one continuous recital), one surmises from his selections that he is a pianist of considerable stamina and dauntless courage.

Mr. Tiagunov starts his program with Beethoven’s Op. 57. Playing a questionably serviced piano of rough sound, with what seems to have been minimal editing, he still conveys enough of the work’s inherent drama to distract the listener’s ears from the rawness of both most of the time. The first movement has a good deal of excitement. Having heard the many highly edited performances of this work that are available today, one fares best if not listening microscopically but with a certain aural “squint” to imagine it as a live performance.

In a live performance, one imagines the pacing would be more natural also. Perhaps it is the way Spotify streams from track to track, but there seems to be much too much haste between the Beethoven’s first and second movements, ruining any preparation for the meditative music ahead. (One hopes that this rapid segue is not where the attention-deficit modern listening experience is headed!) Then, in the second movement, the piano (which elsewhere one would describe as serviceable at best) becomes hard to bear. There is a twangy quality to the bass that grows more and more disturbing, especially for those low offbeats, which also sound unduly poked out. One wonders at this point why a pianist of such dedication has not held out for a better recording situation. If someone with the means is reading this review: please buy or lend this young pianist a better instrument and perhaps more leisurely recording session!

Not all of this reviewer’s reservations are related to equipment. Two diminished chords at the end of the central movement are further examples of haste – and it is not just a matter of the fermata of the first one being undetectable, but that its half-note value is actually shortchanged. One wonders where the fire is. Possibly such haste stems from an awareness that there is still the Wanderer, more Schubert, six Chopin Etudes, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures yet to come, but if so, then a “less is more” approach to programming may help future albums. I personally prefer hearing a single piece with ample time for full note values to speak, rather than feeling I am on a high-speed train with quick stops for major masterworks.

The finale of the Beethoven fares best of the three movements. Here, the same urgency that detracts from other movements creates an edge-of-seat excitement. I enjoyed it overall, a few raced measures notwithstanding.

Moving on to the Chopin Études, Op. 10, there is much to admire. The first in C major has a live brilliance to it. This brilliance at times verges on the breathlessness of an athletic contest (with the occasional smudged notes that beset live performance and usually get tidied up in the studio), but all in all it is effective. The second Étude in A minor goes at quite a clip as well. Though one misses some details underlying the prominent tops, the outlines and continuity are always there.

The third Étude in E major communicates a heartfelt involvement that I appreciate greatly, occasional eccentricities and all. There are extremes of speed beyond the usual range and some very personal liberties, plus more of the tonal issues already mentioned, and yet the individuality brings it a freshness that is much needed after hearing the sameness of so many recordings. Similar sincere lyricism is heard as well in the Étude No. 6 in E-flat minor, emerging as quite soulful despite the heaviness of the instrument.

For lovers of sheer speed, No. 4 in C-sharp minor is wildly fast, and No. 12 in C minor (the “Revolutionary” Etude) enjoys plenty of surging and roiling energy from Mr. Tiagunov’s left hand.

Moving on to Schubert, we hear the second (A-flat) of the Six Moments Musicaux, Andantino. Here the music is treated with a welcome spaciousness, and it creates an effective stylistic transition to the world of Schubert for the Wanderer Fantasy. Anyone who has played the Wanderer knows it is a beast (even Schubert who composed it was known to have said “let the devil play it”), but Mr. Tiagunov seems to take special pleasure in tackling such beasts. He fares well, with masses of leaping chords and arpeggios well in hand and not too many bruises. Mr. Tiagunov lets the heavenly Adagio section speak eloquently from its opening phrases and expansively rolled chords through to the build-up to the next movement – with again, much to admire.

In a surfeit of riches, more virtuosity follows with Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. There are few surprises here except more speed in several spots than one has generally heard. This pianist moves especially briskly through the opening Promenade. It holds together well, but it can also hold together with more relaxed pacing.

High marks go to Gnomus, with its trills having just the right snarly, menacing quality, plus the appropriately childlike Tuileries, the fittingly lumbering Bydlo, and the atmospheric Old Castle. Mr. Tiagunov fares especially well in the muscular and clearly contrasting sections. The characters in Goldenberg and Schmuyle emerge as just the right foils for each other, and the Baba-Yaga movement shows brilliance and power.

Promenade No. 3 is quite fast – again begging the question of where the fire is – but there is surely some reason behind it. The Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks I’ve heard played more lightly, but again, little about this entire recording emphasizes delicacy. Cum mortuis in lingua mortua could also be softer to gain more mystery.

The final Great Gate of Kiev finds Mr. Tiagunov closing the recital in his element, and many will undoubtedly enjoy hearing him play it in live concert when the pandemic is over. For those who cannot wait, this recording can serve as a fair substitute.

The album contains 30 tracks and is distributed to all top digital music services: AppleMusic, Spotify, YouTubeMusic, Pandora, Tidal, Deezer, and others.