Ivan Gusev, Piano

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 15, 2025

It was an intimate affair at the Tenri Cultural Institute this evening where a small group gathered to hear pianist Ivan Gusev perform a varied program for The Leschetizky Birthday Recital, a yearly event that celebrates the renowned pedagogue Theodor Leschetizky (1830-1915). With a direct line to Beethoven, Leschetizky taught a great number of pianists in the late 1800s, including Ignacy Jan Paderewski (1860-1941) and Artur Schnabel (1882-1951), just to name two. As the president of the association Zelma Bodzin pointed out, one would be hard-pressed to encounter a professional pianist active today that doesn’t inherit at least one of the lineages of piano pedagogy, Leschetizky’s being one of them.

Mr. Gusev’s program was inventive and adventurous – it began with his own transcription of a Fantasia for Keyboard in D (FVB 124) by Thomas Morley (1557-1602), an English composer of the late Renaissance whose compositions were primarily for the virginal, a keyboard instrument in the harpsichord family of that time. The transcription stayed true to the tone of the original work. The sound was crisp and vibrant, and Mr. Gusev’s improvisational approach was expressive yet tastefully restrained. This balance created a compelling and refreshing start to the evening.

A standard piano recital moves chronologically through the eras, and although this reviewer’s taste is to let go of these traditions that can feel restrictive, the arc of this program was thoughtful enough that the following classical sonata was  organic to the program –  the Sonata in E Minor, Hob. XVI:34 by Franz Josef Haydn (1732-1809). Mr. Gusev launched into the Presto with both vigor and elegance, demonstrating meticulous attention to detail. However, the sense of spontaneity was somewhat lost, as the abrupt rests with fermatas felt overly deliberate. A more natural and unexpected approach to these pauses could have enhanced their impact. The last three octaves could have also benefited from a similar approach. The second movement, Adagio, was performed with fantasy calling back the rhythmic freedom of the Morley work. The last movement, Vivace molto, began at a good clip and with a light and airy touch. A bit more differentiation within the variations of the melodies could have benefited this movement as well as a healthier, more grounded pulse in the E major section. Additionally, a more decisive conclusion would have better served the drama of the work—Mr. Gusev’s tendency to sustain the pedal after lifting his hands occasionally softened the impact of the final moments of the sonata.

Seven Christmas Miniatures (2025) by Siberian composer (and colleague of Mr. Gusev) Roman Khozeev was next. This was a world premiere as the work had just been finished in January of this year. These seven miniatures took us to a variety of sound worlds in which Mr. Gusev was fully immersed. We were taken from a nostalgic folk song to a world with sparseness and openness with the first two movements. The third, a more contemporary and easy-going movement was followed by a playful and innocent scene. The endings of each of these vignettes were sudden but always in character and Mr. Gusev never broke from it until the very last moment. The last movement in particular was full of motion of a delicious dissonances in which Mr. Gusev reveled. The arresting ending was a great finale to the set. One looks forward to hearing more from this interesting composer.

To contrast but also compliment the new work was a warhorse by Sergey Prokofiev (1891-1953), the Toccata, Op. 11. This early work of Prokofiev is known for fiendish difficulty in its motoric sections, especially with the repeated notes, and his use of the grotesque and sarcastic characters is present in full force. Mr. Gusev approached it with precision and control; however, the opening repeated Ds could have carried more momentum to fully establish the exhilarating journey ahead. To heighten the work’s intensity, a performance infused with greater propulsion, fluidity, and dynamic energy would have been more effective—while meticulously executed, this interpretation lacked the visceral impact that gives the piece its driving force.

As part of today’s birthday celebration, Mr. Gusev presented three delightful works by Leschetizky following intermission. A prolific composer as well as a renowned pedagogue, Leschetizky exemplifies the expressive depth and elegance of the Old-World Romantic tradition. These Three Meditations, selected from his Six Meditations, Op. 19, serve as a testament to the lyrical and refined style in which he both composed and taught. Mr. Gusev delivered each piece with a commitment to its distinctive character, capturing their charm and lighthearted spirit. It was refreshing to hear works from this era that remain relatively unexplored in performance.

The popular Arabesque, Op. 18 by Robert Schumann (1810-1856) followed continuing the Romantic-era sound world. The playing was spontaneous with excellent and refined phrasing. This performance was imbued with moments of consolation which were heart-wrenchingly beautiful. The in-between sections, which can be a challenge to some performers were expertly handled, creating seamless and unified transitions.

To end the program, Mr. Gusev chose a large-scale work by Schumann, the Fantasie in C, Op. 17. It is in a work of this magnitude that one can really get to know a musician’s mind at work, and it was apparent in tonight’s performance. Mr. Gusev is an intelligent and unhurried performer. The first movement, which can very often be misinterpreted as one of virtuosic display was rendered with the necessary sweep but with intense care to communicate each nuance. Mr. Gusev was able to sculpt each passage where we were able to hear thematic connections while keeping the overarching construction in mind. The intimate ending of the first movement was particularly special.

The second movement, Mäßig. Durchaus energisch, began in a grand manner and the chords communicated an extravagant sound. The B-section was played with a beautifully intoned sound which highlighted the melodic lines against the dotted rhythms. The notoriously challenging leaps in this movement presented some difficulties for Mr. Gusev, resulting in occasional memory lapses and slight imprecisions, but these minor inaccuracies didn’t take away from the grandeur of the movement. The final movement, the heart of the work, resonated like a meditation, with its seamless texture of broken chords and a lyrical, singing melody –  was beautifully done by Mr. Gusev.

The appreciative audience clapped for Mr. Gusev to come back to the stage for an encore and, fittingly, he served us with Träumerei by Schumann. It was intimate and tender. Another round of applause begged for his return and Chopin’s Etude in F minor, Op. 25 No. 2, closed the concert with a buzzing virtuosity.

Distinguished Concert Singers International

Kenney Potter, Guest Conductor 

Irene Messoloras, Guest Conductor 

Kyle Pederson, DCINY Composer-In-Residence & Piano

Shanelle Gabriel, Spoken Word Artist

The Bethel Choir from Bethel University (MN), Merrin Guice Gill, Director

Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra (CA), Elliott Bark, Director,

Hyungbin Jung, Guest Conductor

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 16, 2025

In one of their trademark extravaganzas this weekend, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented a concert including both choral and orchestral works and entitled “A Vision of Light.” Included were two premieres, the world premiere of Elliot Bark’s Mercy for violin, cello, piano, and orchestra, with the Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra, and the Carnegie Hall premiere of A Vision Unfolding, a choral work by Kyle Pederson, with the combined choruses of the Distinguished Concerts Singers International. Along with these two premieres were various other selections, including some additional orchestral works, three contrasting songs from the Bethel Choir of Minnesota, and the always transcendent choral music of Ola Gjeilo and Morten Lauridsen to conclude. Apart from the special 3-song segment by the Bethel Choir, the chorus for the afternoon was the Distinguished Concert Singers International including hundreds of singers (from the Barrington United Methodist Church Chancel Choir (IL), Bethel Choir, the Longmont Chorale, the UCI Choir, Mynderse Academy Varsity Chorus, the Irmo High School Chorus, the Peninsula Community Chorus, Spirit Song Choir, Angeles Chorale, the Crean Lutheran High School Chamber Choir & Saints Singers, and the Gloria Deo Academy Choir).

Aside from running too long for most listeners – at over two hours and thirty-five minutes – the concert was, as usual for DCINY, full of uplifting messages, this time centering on the word “light” as inspiration. The presentation of young but serious ensembles is part of the “secret sauce” of DCINY, and, as the Crean Lutheran High School Symphony Orchestra played their portion of the program, one could feel increasing hope for this upcoming generation. They dove into Arturo Márquez’s Danzón No. 2 with precision and didn’t let up on focus for an instant. The guest conductor for this opening was Hyungbin Jung, and he led the orchestra with gusto in a dance of distinctive claves dance rhythms. It seemed that the entire orchestra might just start dancing – and perhaps the audience too.

The premiere of Elliot Bark’s Mercy followed under the baton of the composer, with violinist Andrew Kwon, cellist Janet Park, and pianist Esther Lee as the excellent soloists. The pianist opened with a slow, funereal repetition of middle D which became the start point for implied harmonies and plaintive strains as the violin, cello, and then orchestra joined in a musical “prayer” of sorts. All built quickly to an enormous climax and orchestral tutti, before eventually receding to end with that same lonesome middle D on the piano, now as part of a B-flat major harmony, transformed. If this piece was composed with the goal of exploiting the forces at hand, it did just that, with full strings, winds, brass, percussion and a piano glissando at its peak. What good fortune it is for this fine student orchestra to have this composer at the helm! They concluded their segment of the program with four movements from Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition in the Ravel orchestration – the Promenade, The Gnome, The Hut on Hen’s Legs (Baba Yaga), and The Great Gate of Kiev – all showing the players to great advantage.

After intermission the music was all choral, starting with three selections from the Bethel Choir of Minnesota. Conductor Merrin Guice Gill led them expertly, first through an Alleluia by Elaine Hagenberg (b. 1979). I reviewed a work by this composer last year, citing her gift of pulling at one’s heartstrings – and the same gift graced her Alleluia. Dr. Gill led the singers in drawing out the beauty of each line and harmony. Next came (reversing the printed program order) “Yver, vous n’este qu’un villain” from Trois Chansons – Claude Debussy’s setting of a saucy medieval chastisement of winter, delivered with exactitude in its imitative voices. The set concluded with Hold Fast to Dreams by Roland Carter (b. 1942), an impassioned outpouring with its roots in spirituals. It closed the set powerfully, with good support from Emily Urban at the piano and a very powerful soprano soloist who somehow did not take a separate bow at the end but perhaps ought to have.

Following the Bethel Choir was the premiere of A Vision Unfolding by Kyle Pederson, which dominated the second half. As the program notes tell us, Mr. Pederson was commissioned in 2021 to create a work centering on themes of social justice. He wanted a perspective on this subject beyond his own, so he reached out to poet/songwriter/spoken word artist Shanelle Gabriel for collaboration. The resulting work consists of five movements, set to stirring texts by Robert Bode, Walt Whitman, and Langston Hughes, as well as two by Mr. Pederson and Ms. Gabriel themselves. In addition, Ms. Gabriel was onstage throughout the performance introducing each of the five movements with her own heartfelt spoken word recitations. The music itself was composed in a highly accessible tonal language, with a sweetness that was skillfully broken by movements of more determination. Highlights included the first movement “Reach Down, Lord” in which the word “reach” was repeated to percussive effect, as well as the rhythmic piano part in “Beat! Drums!” (played the composer himself, Mr. Pederson). Guest instrumentalists were violinist Emanouil Manolov and – particularly important in the drive of “Beat! Drums!” – trumpeter Christopher Bubolz with snare drummer Charles Kiger. The spoken word as recited by the chorus, when not singing, was also striking and was beautifully held together by conductor Kenney Potter. Though this large work has already had performances, this was its Carnegie Hall premiere, and one can imagine it growing quite popular among the many choruses across the country, especially if movements can be excerpted.

This reviewer’s chief reservation about the program pertained to length. With two of my favorite works yet to come, Ubi Caritas by Ola Gjeilo and Lux Aeterna by Morten Lauridsen, I was already too maxed out to truly experience them as the beauties they are – though beautifully performed as expected, with Irene Messoloras conducting and Philip Hoch at the organ. Lest I be put out to pasture for what may seem a matter of stamina, there were teenagers seated behind me snoring from fatigue. Music is a joy to share, but timing is everything, as the art itself exists in time. The readiness of listeners must not be taken for granted, no matter how manageable the selections may seem to those planning them in the abstract (along with prolonged entries and exits). As this reviewer has commented before, one can move from painting to painting in a museum or from offering to offering at a feast without partaking to excess in either case; with music, however, the only recourse when faced with excess is to leave during a concert, something considered rude by many and an impossibility for a reviewer.

With more sensitivity in their programming, DCINY will undoubtedly continue to fill their important role bringing throngs together in love of music.

Justin Bischof, conductor and artistic director

Alexandre Moutouzkine, pianist

Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Music Center New York, NY

March 12, 2025

The Modus Operandi Orchestra (MOO) outdid itself this week (and that says a lot) in a tremendous all-Beethoven concert at Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Music Center, billing their program as “The Three Bs – Beethoven, Beethoven, and Beethoven” (riffing, of course, on the musical reference to “the three Bs” as Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms). The “three” part referred to the three works, in this case the Coriolan Overture Op. 62, the Piano Concerto No. 5 (“Emperor”), Op. 73, and the Symphony No. 7, Op. 92 – all masterpieces in their respective forms.

With David Geffen Hall, Alice Tully Hall, and other famous venues just a few blocks away – along with conservatory orchestras and concerts galore – it was heartening to see that Merkin Hall was packed with people so excited to hear a program of (presumably) familiar classics. A cheering crowd seemed to know they were in for a memorable night – and they were (including, we were told, thirty-two veterans and friends from the Manhattan School of Music and the Emet Classical Academy). The soloist for the Beethoven Concerto No. 5 would be brilliant Russian-American pianist Alexandre Moutouzkine, who has played with over sixty orchestras across the globe and garnered innumerable accolades (including from New York Concert Review), and the conductor would be, as ever for this orchestra, Justin Bischof, who is also artistic director for MOO (plus organist, fund-raiser, educator, and wearer of countless other hats). The orchestra would be, as it has proven repeatedly to be, a superb combination of some of the top-notch pros in the area, including concertmaster Eiko Kano (who is also the concertmaster for the Pegasus Orchestra and plays for various prominent orchestras in New York) and on this occasion thirty-three other instrumentalists. The Modus Operandi Orchestra may not rack up the hours of rehearsal that other full-time orchestras do, but – to play with another saying – sometimes the best things in life are freelance. There was often an edge-of-seat intensity to their playing that one sometimes misses in full-time orchestras.

Some may assume that there would have to be some trade-off between intensity and polish, but any such idea was dispelled right from the perilous opening chords of the overture. They were as close to perfection in timing of attacks and cutoffs as one could hope to hear. Those enjoying Maestro Bischof’s easygoing manner as raconteur might also not be braced for the ferocity of his musicianship, but after a succinct account of the story behind the Coriolan Overture, he wrung every bit of musical drama from its dualities, from the warring timpani to the imploring violins and every undercurrent along the way.

Incidentally, this reviewer had heard the Modus Operandi Orchestra play a portion of this program two years ago at St. Mary’s Church (Long Island City), where (as part of a Vienna-themed program) they paired the Coriolan Overture and 7th Symphony with a Mozart motet, aria, and symphony (the “Haffner” K. 385). The heft was definitely increased by the addition of the “Emperor” Concerto to the other Beethoven – and though it is generally agreed upon that the name “Emperor” did not come from Beethoven (nor have any relationship to the work) the name is considered by some to have stemmed from its immediate standing as a crowning achievement – or “Emperor”-  among piano concerti. It requires a pianist of consummate abilities, and the choice of Alexandre Moutouzkine, with his impressive array of credentials, was not surprising.

Mr. Moutouzkine showed many of the qualities which undoubtedly contributed to his being chosen as major prizewinner and laureate in many important competitions (Arthur Rubinstein, Montreal, and many more). He is, first of all, reliable to the point of nearly note-perfect performances. On top of that, he is a sensitive collaborator. One of the highest virtues, in this reviewer’s opinion, is the ability to play a concerto as chamber music, and Mr. Moutouzkine does just that. Far beyond merely listening to the orchestra intently at crucial junctures, he appears to be living the music each moment, whether he is playing or not. (If this seems like an obvious sine qua non, this reviewer has heard many soloists without that habit – including one famous violinist who would tweak her shoes with her bow during orchestral sections, inviting speculation about just how much gum she might be removing). There was no question at this concert that the piano and orchestra were united throughout. Still more remarkable, Mr. Moutouzkine showed the ability to adjust by a nanosecond even in the middle of complex passages to facilitate imminent meeting points. His intelligence and mastery were always clear.

Quibbles are inevitable, when a reviewer has a lifetime of adoring a piece, but there were very few. One wish was for just a bit more breathing room in the espressivo moments and for the longer notes of the opening cadenzas. There was also – perhaps due to the piano itself – a tendency for forte and fortissimo sounds to verge on harshness, intensified by the necessary placement of the instrument so close to the edge of the stage in this small hall (such that the piano sound for seats near the front was overwhelming). The extremes of loudness were most conspicuous in the longest string of octaves in the first movement – as well as some of the almost Czerny-esque left-hand finger-work – but because Beethoven’s works are organic wholes, the already wide dynamic range became hard to process. Some pianissimo sections were also so extreme (perhaps from an abundance of caution with the resonance), that they felt by contrast as if they had come from a different planet from the fortes, rather than sharing the same musical “DNA” as the rest of the piece.

Whatever ideals there may be for such music, all in all Mr. Moutouzkine’s performance was outstanding, full of emotion and brilliance that had the audience unable to contain its applause even after just the first movement. The meltingly beautiful second movement had all the tender care it invites, and the rousing finale was victorious.

After intermission, the MOO celebrated Beethoven with the Seventh Symphony, one of Beethoven’s most beloved works and one that even Beethoven himself considered one of his finest. As Maestro Bischof shared, it is a work which even in its premiere elicited an encore of the second movement – then quipping, “we’re not going to do that.”

The orchestra’s performance of this work seemed to have grown even stronger since their 2023

Vienna-themed concert. This reviewer had singled out special contributions then (e.g., the flutes and horns), but that would be hard to do at this concert, as the entire orchestra truly shone. Having been seated right below the cellists, bassists, and timpanist, one could not help admiring them in particular throughout the concert – but all players gave their all. Maestro Bischof’s sensitive approach to the profound Allegretto brought back the tragic spirit that had opened the program with the Coriolan, and he led us through Beethoven’s miraculous transformations. The ensuing Presto was infectiously jubilant, and the Finale was a triumph. Both seemed to emanate from much larger forces than were present.

In summary, the evening was a tremendous tribute to Beethoven. In lieu of an encore, one could only leave with the music in one’s mind, thinking how fortunate the world is to have had Beethoven – and how fortunate New Yorkers are to have the Modus Operandi Orchestra and their illustrious guest artists.

Thomas Nickell, pianist

Tenri Cultural Institute,  New York, NY

March 14, 2025

A capacity crowd gathered to hear composer and pianist Thomas Nickell at the Tenri Cultural Institute this week and enjoyed an evening of the music of Frédéric Chopin that in some ways hearkened back to salon recitals of yore – from the intimacy of the venue (and free-flowing wine) to the family friendliness of the audience. The program included several of Chopin’s most beloved masterpieces, plus some shorter selections. Starting with the Fantasy Op. 49, Mr. Nickell followed with the last six preludes from Op. 28, and then the Berceuse, Op. 57, and the Barcarolle, Op. 60, before intermission. The second half opened with the Four Mazurkas, Op. 24, followed by the first three Scherzi. It was curated nicely for dramatic trajectories and contrasts, taking the audience on a journey that was never dull.

A reviewer hears many highly polished conservatory players who quite often resemble so many cookies from the same batch. There may not be much of a sense of programming sometimes (or awareness of the audience’s “journey”) – and not always a great sense of individual spirit either – but the elements of the score, certainly the notes, tend to all be there from hours of thorough practice. This concert was almost the reverse. There was indeed spirit in each moment – and ideas galore – but sometimes there was just a bit too much “riding roughshod” over the music for a true devotee of Chopin to enjoy. To restate a criticism made in another review from 2023, Mr. Nickell left “a few too many details obscured or glossed over … and one hesitates even to use such a potentially dismissive term as ‘detail’ in discussing the finely wrought creations of Chopin.” It is easy to chalk up a “big picture” tendency to the fact that a performer is also a composer, but more on that later.

The Fantaisie in F minor, Op. 49, was one of the strongest offerings, though there was some sketchiness in the fingerwork surprisingly early on and a few rhythmic anomalies in the B-major section (no, not rubato – as one can tell the difference). What was great was the emotional narrative of the piece – always strongly projected. Mr. Nickell transmitted to the audience what must be his own love of the work, and he did it with warmth of tone and a personal feeling for highlights – as a tour guide might take a visitor to his favorite spots. It underscored for this reviewer how much Mr. Nickell has grown as a pianist and musician in recent years.

The six selections from Op. 28 were less compelling. Prelude No. 19 in E-flat major, understandably a difficult one, needed more accuracy, delicacy, and attention to polish. No. 21 in B-flat major found the left hand obscuring the right. No. 22 in G minor got swept away with emotion – not a bad thing in itself, but it resulted in some mishaps, notably the crucial low C-sharp octave near the end. No. 24 in D minor was quite dramatic – as it needs to be – but needed more attention to the descending thirds. Pianists routinely impale themselves on these, but this reviewer believes that such hurdles can be overcome with lots of careful work, if the piece as a whole means enough to the player. The final three notes were earthshaking – as they should be.

It was particularly beautiful to hear, after such storming, the Berceuse (Lullaby), Op. 57. When this reviewer mentioned earlier the care taken in curating a program, this choice was one of the examples. The juxtaposition was potent. There are always quibbles, however, and there were some here. As anyone who has played this work knows, the left hand repeats its steady rocking pattern nearly exactly throughout the piece, but with sometimes an E-flat and sometimes a C on the fourth eighth of each measure – and it actually matters, because of what is in the right hand. Without the correct notes, doubled C’s or E-flats arise, among other issues. Cringes ensue, the baby awakens, and war breaks out. Well, perhaps that is an exaggeration, but the point stands. If it is worth playing at all, it is worth fine-tuning – and that includes mastery of the later filigree as well, which needed neatening (perhaps with more hand-rotation). Great pianists have famously agonized over accuracy in recording this work – long before the days of splicing and high-tech fixes – and though a live performance is not the same as a recording, it should matter no less.

The Barcarolle closed the first half with another strong performance. Its magnificence was in full sail, and undoubtedly those in the audience who may never have heard the piece before will now feel the pull towards more Chopin. They gave a rousing ovation before the break. Bravo!

After intermission we heard the Four Mazurkas, Op. 24. Considering how many mazurkas Chopin composed, it is a shame that we don’t hear them in live programs more often, so it was a joy that Mr. Nickell programmed these. He brought out much of the originality and “newness” of them, whether through the crispness of the Lydian-flavored No. 2, the chromaticism of No. 3 (which, with overholding of thirty-second notes, sounded like blocked sevenths), and the robust rhythms and metric surprises in all four. They were a joy.

Some of Mr. Nickell’s liberties seemed gratuitous even in these dances (such as the turning of some quarter-note upbeats into eighths at will in No. 3), and though we are no longer in this reviewer’s dinosaur-age school days where such playing would have elicited screeds (“if Chopin had wanted a quarter note, he knew how to write one”), the score is always the starting point. We often hear about the spirit of the law in opposition to the letter of the law in music – but why not have both?

The program concluded with much fire via the first three of the Scherzi, but again sometimes speed took the place of what constitutes true brilliance (generally including the presence of all notes, articulations, and markings, regardless of speed). No. 1 in B minor found excessive haste leading to blurs, omissions, and messiness, including in the big chromatic run at the end, and there were similar results in Nos. 2 and 3. Though there was a certain excitement always, the music devolved at times into mere washes and gestures. Let there be no mistake, we need those gestures, but if everything becomes a glossing-over or gesture, the performance starts to sound like a summary, as if the performer is showing us something approximating “how it would go” if we played it. Listeners may get “the gist” of it, but we generally want more than the gist at a concert. A lecture-demonstration may be different, and one has a hunch that Mr. Nickell may have some of those in his future.

As your reviewer here has written before, Mr. Nickell is a promising young composer as well as pianist. This warrants mention, in reference to a point made earlier. Composers are often cited for performing with less than full attention to detail, perhaps due to their own imaginations’ tendency to grasp what they consider the essence of a piece immediately (and likewise, their desire to transmit it immediately). There also may be issues of time demands, as a composer needing to copy fifteen-part scores may simply not have time to practice scales and passagework. In any case, when we consider what effort Chopin took to write each note and marking (naturally long before the advent of music software), with dozens of carefully chosen pitches and note values constituting each “wash” or gesture, and all organically part of the whole work, we generally feel an awe that compels us to devote no less effort in relaying it – as servants in a way. One would imagine that a composer, perhaps even more than other musicians, might agree out of sheer compassion.

At any rate, when some time is invested in more of the nuts and bolts, there will be yet another reason to hear Mr. Nickell. There are already many.

Carrie Koffman, saxophone

Charles Neidich, clarinet

Ayako Oshima, clarinet

Mohamed Shams, piano

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 9, 2025

There was an electric energy in the room before this afternoon’s concert at the Tenri Cultural Institute. I presume it was the anticipation of the return of the Wa Concert Series after a hiatus. As stated by Charles Neidich in his charming opening speech, they had a return last year, and today’s event is a taste of what is in store for this intrepid organization. At first glance, the programming seemed a bit scattered, but as the concert went on, more connections began to emerge, and this reviewer was fascinated by the thoughtful curation of the afternoon’s music.

The first piece on the program was Sarabande et thème varié for clarinet and piano (1903) by Reynaldo Hahn (1874-1947). Hahn, a Venezuelan-born composer, moved to Paris as a child and inherited the French tradition. This work, with nods to the Baroque era, couldn’t be more steeped in the French simplicity of the time, a reaction to the late romanticism of Wagner and the Impressionism of Ravel and Debussy. His most well-known works are songs, and this work is replete with beautiful melodies throughout. The clarinetist Ayako Oshima enchanted the audience with a seductive tone. The triumphant ending was full of joy and was met with a roaring applause from the audience. It was a beautiful start to the concert.

A contrasting work by Elinor Armer (b. 1939) followed called Double Sonnet for Two Clarinets (2003) performed by Mr. Neidich and Ms. Oshima. The duo delivered a confident and compelling interpretation of this dynamic piece, skillfully highlighting its intricate, sinuous lines with flair. Their decisive articulation enhanced textural clarity, resulting in a vibrant and immersive sonic experience. The button to end the work was particularly delightful. Line Drawings by Richard Wilson (b. 1941) is in four movements. Each of these brief movements encapsulated a distinct, self-contained world. The first communicated serenity; the second a pointillistic approach; the third an earthiness, and the fourth was spacious and lean. It was a great compliment to the Armer piece.

The final piece on the first half was the Clarinet Sonata by Aaron Copland (1900-1990). This clarinet and piano work immediately captivated the audience, drawing them in from the very first chords. Mr. Shams delivered these chords with a nuanced understanding of the style’s tonal demands. The opening evoked a unique blend of solitude and happiness—an emotional duality that perhaps only Copland could achieve. The complex rhythms of the first movement were handled expertly by both duo members of which the climax was particularly exciting. This made the heart-wrenching end to the first movement particularly beautiful. Another duality emerged in the second movement—the contrast between warm and cold sonorities. This poignant movement had an understated intimacy and clarity, and when themes from the first movement reappeared, they were cast in an entirely new light. The last movement provided a much-needed relief from heavy feelings. The crisp articulations from Mr. Neidich were not only impressive to hear but also full of joy and elation. The unexpected rhythms seemed to jump off the page communicating the mixed meters and an additive approach as well as a sound inspired by American folk. This energetic movement was a great choice to unify the works of the first half of the program.

After a brief, intermission, the audience was hungry for more – and they were in for a treat. A set of works for chamber and solo saxophone commenced. hush for solo Alto Saxophone (2018) by Gilda Lyons (b. 1975) was the most adventurous piece on today’s recital. In the words of the composer: “ [hush] is fueled by the need to explore, unpack, and reexamine the ways a women’s voice can be informed by received gendered language over the course of a lifetime. Reflecting on my own experience, I honed-in on specific phrases that evolved in meaning for me and set them as spoken words within the context of contrasting musical lines…while exploring percussive, often breath-driven sounds that point to, among other things, pulse and heartbeat, and that contrast the recurring, sustained shush gesture that evolves over the course of the piece.” And what an effective performance this was. From the very first “shhhh” the saxophonist Carrie Koffman arrested the audience’s attention. As the piece developed, the intention of the composer was clear without being too obvious or patronizing and the seemingly humorous spoken words became more meaningful, leaving the listener in thought.

The next work by Ellen Taaffe Zwilich (b. 1939) was Remembrance (Lullaby and Lament) (2024) for alto saxophone and piano. Ms. Koffman spoke about how the composer, a fellow adoptee, wrote this piece to spark awareness of the many hurdles adopted individuals have attaining their original birth certificates. The work had a jazzy undertone and even quoted the famous Brahms’ Lullaby, and, if this reviewer is not mistaken, also the Schubert Ständchen towards the end.

Gabriela Ortiz (b. 1964), the celebrated Mexican composer, was next on the program with a work she wrote for the musicians in today’s program. Carrie Koffman and Ayako Oshima performed Las Dolly Sisters for Clarinet and Alto Saxophone (2021) about two vaudeville twins. This entertaining work was had a very sexy dance feel; however this reviewer feels the performers could have exploited the supple and syncopated Latin pulse more. It felt as though the work wasn’t completely integrated yet; nonetheless it was an admirable introduction to this interesting work!

The closing work was the Clarinet Sonata, Op. 167 (1921), by Camille Saint-Saëns (1835-1921). This sonata, composed during the last year of his life, is a romantic work at heart. The first movement felt like a love poem to the instrument, exploiting all its facets and capabilities. The lightness of the second movement was executed expertly by Mr. Neidich and Mr. Shams,  whose collaboration throughout the program was top notch to say the least! The funereal third movement was full of pathos and featured the instruments deep and guttural tones only to contrast it with moments on the other extreme of the instrument, angelic and high. With an attacca fourth movement, the work comes full circle as was typical in many romantic pieces with a nostalgic stating of the theme from the first movement.

The entire group came back for a short encore by the French composer Germaine Tailleferre (1892-1983) – Allegretto for Three Clarinets (but this time with on part on saxophone). It was the perfect sorbet after a concert of demanding and interesting repertoire.

The Wa Concert Series plans to continue their programming this year and we look forward to another concert full of surprising and decadent music! Ms. Oshima reminded the audience of her love of cooking and graciously provided a reception for the audience to greet the performers. Perhaps there’s a concert pairing repertoire with specific dishes in the future of the group?

José Navarro-Silberstein, pianist

Merkin Hall at the Kaufmann Music Center, New York, NY

February 28, 2025

An exciting evening of piano music – largely South American – kicked off the musical weekend, as Bolivian pianist José Navarro-Silberstein gave his New York recital debut at Merkin Hall, presented by Kantuta Concerts under the auspices of the Foundation for Bolivian Artists. A program dominated by music of Argentina, Bolivia, and Brazil, via Eduardo Caba, Alberto Ginastera, Marvin Sandi, and Heitor Villa-Lobos, it also included a few selections by European composers Franz Liszt and Ferrucio Busoni. Folk influence was present in all, emerging as one aspect of what the concert’s promotional materials termed “the artistic dialogue between Latin American and European composers, exploring how they have influenced and inspired each other over time.”

More specifically, the Foundation for Bolivian Artists and Kantuta Concerts, founded and run by Bolivian compatriot Walter Aparicio (who for full disclosure also writes for New York Concert Review), has a mission to promote and expand awareness of Bolivian art and artists. From Mr. Aparicio’s spoken introduction to the concert, it was clear that Kantuta, now in its second year, is well on its way. A few audience members in the packed hall unfurled a Bolivian flag across their row to underscore just that, though the performances by Mr. Navarro-Silberstein accomplished as much through music.

The reader can find Mr. Navarro-Silberstein’s biography at his website (José Navarro-Silberstein), but to summarize, in addition to garnering some impressive prizes, his performances have taken him to Germany, the UK, France, Spain, Austria, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Slovenia, Croatia, Georgia, Lithuania, Chile and Bolivia. As a soloist, he has performed with the Jena Philharmonic Orchestra, Norddeutsche Philharmonie Rostock, Georgian Philharmonic Orchestra, La Paz Symphony Orchestra, Orquesta de Jóvenes Musicos Bolivianos, and Orquesta Sinfónica Juvenil de Santa Cruz de la Sierra. His debut CD “Vibrant Rhythms” recently released by GENUIN Classics and containing some of the same repertoire he performed at Merkin, has already received international acclaim.

After nearly two decades of writing music reviews (among other musical pursuits), it was a treat for this reviewer to attend a concert that included the work of several completely unfamiliar composers – in this case, the two Bolivian composers, Eduardo Caba (1890-1953) and Marvin Sandi (1938-68); for that awakening in itself, Kantuta is to be congratulated. The opening Caba pieces were beguiling in Mr. Navarro-Silberstein’s sensitive reading. We heard Nos. 1, 4, and 9 from the set entitled Aires Indios (de Bolivia) from 1937. No 1 was a gentle melodic piece, rather reminiscent of some of Grieg’s lyrical miniatures (or even MacDowell’s) in innocence and directness – though of course no country or composer has a lock on pastoral beauty. The second piece reflected more characteristically Latin rhythms, and the final selection brought to mind Ravel’s fountains and fourths. It seems plausible that Caba (who had studied in Europe with Turina – who had studied in Paris) may have absorbed some second-hand influence there. Anyway, it was fascinating to hear, and Mr. Navarro-Silberstein played all three persuasively.

To skip ahead to the other Bolivian composer, Marvin Sandi, we heard Ritmos Panteísticos, Op. 1a (1957) in the first half and In Memoriam (Homenaje a Caba), Op. 1b (1958) to open the second half. Both works of this short-lived composer were composed around age nineteen. In Ritmos Panteísticos, the opening movement “…de la roca” found the pianist enjoying the clashing sonorities that brought to mind Ginastera (as in the Danza del gaucho matrero). The second and third movements, “…de la luz” and “…de la luna,” conveyed the spaciousness one associates with the Andean landscape of the composer’s homeland – with still more tonal exploration,  and the final motoric “…del sexo” closed the set with insistent rhythmic drive projected powerfully by Mr. Navarro-Silberstein. The meditative In Memoriam (Homenaje a Caba) after intermission opened rather severely, with dramatic left hand octaves, but it melted into such soulful lyricism that one could only feel even sadder that the composer did not have many more years of creativity.

More familiar South American fare included  Suite de Danzas Criollas, Op. 15 (1957), by Ginastera and Ciclo Brasileiro, W. 374 (1936-1937), by Villa-Lobos. Mr. Navarro maximized the tenderness in the opening Adagietto of the Danzas Criollas and took us on a wild ride through the rugged turf of the Allegro rustico. He entranced us with the 11/8 meter in the third movement – and made further magic of the fourth, with its play of major and minor seconds that had one thinking of Bartók. He unleashed superhuman energy in the Scherzando – with the coda drawing cheers from the audience. The Villa-Lobos Ciclo that closed the program was similarly brimming with life. Highlights were the dreamily melodic Plantio do caboclo, the famously brilliant Festa no sertão, and the fiery Dança do Índio branco. Together they were an impassioned triumph.

Much of the South American music had a listener wondering whether the pianist would be equally at home in Liszt and Busoni, and the answer emerged as a “yes.” Though (at the risk of having to dodge tomatoes) this listener has never been a fan of the Busoni Indian Diary as more than a curiosity, with its mercurial shifts of eclectic material seeming rather alien to the folk motifs it is based on, but it was still fascinating to hear live – and not a common occurrence, so worth the inclusion (especially given the theme of transcontinental “dialogue” used to promote the program).

As for the Liszt Rhapsody No. 9, Mr. Navarro-Silberstein showed that no pyrotechnics are beyond his grasp – from coruscating runs to blazing octaves. In terms of style, it does seem that he may have missed the opportunity, in the moderato a capriccio, to establish a tempo that was slow and elastic enough to free up the whimsical right-hand elaborations without violating or straitjacketing the left hand, but such preferences always increase with familiarity (and this listener finds it hard to “unhear” a favorite rendition by Cziffra). In any case, Mr. Navarro-Silberstein can be extremely proud of what was an amazing feat – especially on a program that was already so demanding.

One suggestion for the next concert would be the inclusion of program notes, since, especially with a few lesser-known composers slated and the presenter’s mission of increasing awareness of Bolivian music, it would have been educational for the audience. Then again, it is possible that some inserted notes existed, but went missing in the folding, as there was spoken reference from the stage to some other information that was also not found.

Mr. Navarro-Silberstein rewarded a hearty standing ovation with two lovely encores, the first, a Bolivian folk song, and the second, Mihaud’s Corocovado from Saudades Do Brasil. It was a highly auspicious debut for an outstanding pianist who will be well worth following.

Carpe Diem String Quartet
Sam Weiser, Violin; Marisa Ishikawa, Violin

Korine Fujiwara, Viola; Ariana Nelson, Cello

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 27, 2025

The aptly named Carpe Diem String Quartet took the stage of Weill Hall at Carnegie this week to greet their excited audience, and they exuded just the kind of immediacy and energy that will draw new audiences to classical music – particularly to “new” music. Their program, all music of the 20th and 21st centuries, including a New York premiere and two world premieres, was brilliantly curated, but more importantly their playing itself communicated worlds of emotion – with a healthy measure of pure fun. They already have ardent followers and 20-year performing history (though interrupted by Covid and other events), plus a commissioning project honoring their 15th year in 2020 (called “15 for 15”); still, however,  they represent a “discovery” for this listener. It is a thrill to share that discovery, because anyone thinking of hearing or hiring them is destined to be grateful. You’re welcome.

To avoid rehashing lengthy biographies, our readers can visit their website (Carpe Diem String Quartet), but suffice it to say that all members of the quartet – violinists Sam Weiser and Marisa Ishikawa, violist Korine Fujiwara, and cellist Ariana Nelson – have fine credentials individually; what makes the group so special is their connectedness and shared musical passion. The title for their recital – “Interconnected” – was more than just a convenient catchall, but rather a message one could feel through all the music they played by composers Lomax, Kaminsky, Fujiwara, Satoh, and finally Prokofiev.

The charismatic Dr. Mark Lomax II, composer of the opening work Ubuntu (2023), was the first to come onstage, to introduce both the concert and his own piece in what was its New York premiere. He explained that, in the languages of Zulu/Xhosa, the “Ubuntu” philosophy is, “I am because you are, and because you are, I am.” He spoke about the need for humanity to connect, and the music itself supported his words with seemingly disjunct, but infectiously energetic, rhythmic motives all interacting to find one another, eventually uniting as the quartet played in harmony and unison (with a nice final touch of F major, like the Prokofiev, which would close the program). It was a sensational start to the program.

Laura Kaminsky, especially renowned for her groundbreaking work in opera, came onstage next to introduce the world premiere of her string quartet, Vanishing Point, commissioned by the Carpe Diem String Quartet. Dedicated to the memory of Chas Wetherbee, first violinist of the Carpe Diem Quartet until he passed away in 2023, it centers on the feelings in the aftermath of loss –  as the composer’s notes describe, “swirling emotions of loss, persistence, and hope.” As much as one expected that Ms. Kaminsky’s gift for the vocal and dramatic would shine through in her instrumental writing (and it did), nothing prepared one for the emotional impact of this quartet. Part of it was the dramatic structure. As she writes, “The piece begins with an extended trio, minus the first violin, with the strings starting from nothing and increasing in intensity, until, finally, they ‘find’ and ‘invite’ the first violin to join them, a quartet at last.” That sheer absence of the first violin was enough to crack one’s heart in two, but the plaintive solo cello followed by soulful viola utterances in the first minutes finished the job. One almost couldn’t recover to fully experience the “swirling emotions” that followed, but the fade to the end was perfect as a “vanishing point.” A well-deserved ovation elicited a bow from  Ms. Kaminsky and the quartet.

The final work before intermission, the world premiere of Korine Fujiwara’s Mosey could not have been better placed to bring everyone back to smiling. Inspired by the scenes at an airport of people moving in all sorts of individual worlds – with the two very different definitions of the “mosey” pace in play – violist Fujiwara wrote it for her own quartet colleagues, as a sort of musical metaphor for traveling through life. Full of humor (as she is in her comments and program notes), it lives in a language of folksy charm combined with a frenetic edge (bluegrass fiddling meets hints of Raymond Scott’s Powerhouse). All the performers ramped up the energy, complete with dizzy slides and percussion on the body of the cello, and the cumulative effect was dazzling. This is one of those pieces that all quartets will want to play – in the same way that Jessie Montgomery’s Strum has taken hold. Once again now, to any quartet players reading this: you’re welcome.

After intermission we heard Toward the Night, by Somei Satoh (b. 1947), known widely for his works using Japanese instruments and electronic music. First violinist Sam Weiser introduced it and spoke of it expressing the Buddhist idea of samsara or transmigration towards the next life. To quote the notes (which seemed to be by the composer, although it wasn’t clear), “after millions of years, the existence of mankind is beginning to sink into the deep dusk.” The music, accordingly, shifts glacially from each gentle dissonance to the next – at times conveying human pathos, at times an atmosphere vaguely ominous, and overall a sense of vast space. The quartet played it with meditative feeling – something that could not have been easy, given what Mr. Weiser had just prior to it remarked about the evening. He had said, “They say that a quartet is like a marriage between four people, and with the number of family and friends here tonight, many meeting for the first time, this really feels like our wedding.” It was a testament to this quartet’s powerful focus and emotional projection that the audience remained in what seemed a hypnotized state for the entire Satoh work.

As Mr. Weiser had also noted, much to the audience’s amusement, the Prokofiev is “not like that at all.” Indeed, Prokofiev’s String Quartet No. 2, Op. 92 (1941). is brimming with energy, and its Kabardinian folk themes and robust rhythms brought us back to the world of purposeful action, within more typically classical form and phrase structure. The quartet lit into it with gusto, and it was good to see that there was none of the myopic obsession with “purity” of tone that can plague string players at the expense of the right rustic feeling. The players at times lit into the piece with the delicacy of shovels and spades – and it was a joy. The audience was rapt throughout and burst into a standing ovation for the performers, joined by those composers present.

As many may know, reviewers are often the first to bolt for the door at a concert’s finish, but your reviewer was actually sad to see this one end – despite its ample length. It was so heartening to hear performers who are not merely “well-trained” but whose mission is to communicate. They created magic to inspire their listeners, and if they keep that up, they will be a much-needed gift to the music world.

I suggest that our readers, whether fellow quartets, music lovers, or presenters, grab any chance you can get to go hear them. And for the third time, you’re welcome.

Alexander Scriabin: The Complete Piano Sonatas

Yunjie Chen, piano

Accentus Music CD ACC306391 (2 CD set)

In the pantheon of solo piano compositions that tax a performer’s technical and musical capabilities to the outer limits, the ten Scriabin piano sonatas, written from 1892 to 1913, rank high. Though none is longer than 20 minutes (and most far shorter), they are black holes of condensed emotional expression that exploit every register, figurational possibility, rhythmic combination, and tonal resource of the piano keyboard with a feverish intensity unique to this singular composer. They gradually evolve from multi-movement late Romantic works in sonata form with key signatures, to one-movement, intense, trance-like excursions without key signatures that morph instantaneously from ineffable pianissimo puffs of smoke to ecstatic bursts of joy or madness, with the notes chromatically spelled in a chaotic, non-functional-harmony manner. Musicologist Richard Taruskin dubbed Scriabin’s compositional style “maximalist.”

Of the great pianists of the last century, Vladimir Horowitz, Sviatoslav Richter, and Vladimir Sofronitsky (Scriabin’s son-in-law), all Russians, were especially identified with Scriabin’s music, largely because each had a wild, wayward side to their musical personalities that matched the sensibility of the composer, a man obsessed with theosophy, synesthesia, mysticism, and other other-worldly notions. Effective performances of Scriabin must bring alive this exorcismic, phantasmal side of his music while contending with the extraordinarily dense, complex textures. Usually only a single sonata is programmed on a piano recital, though several artists have recorded the whole cycle. I well remember seeing Vladimir Ashkenazy’s April 1982 Carnegie Hall recital where he led off with a tenebrous performance of Sonata No. 6 and a few short pieces from Scriabin’s middle period, followed by Gaspard de la Nuit and Pictures at an Exhibition–a marathon all without missing a note.

But the Chinese pianist Yunjie Chen may be the first pianist both to record the whole Scriabin sonata cycle and to perform all ten sonatas in a single recital, in 2015 in Beijing, an unimaginable tour de force of mental and physical stamina. (The young Canadian pianist Jaeden Izik-Dzurko duplicated the live feat in 2022.) If that doesn’t impress you, consider that Yunjie Chen has also performed the complete Liszt Transcendental Etudes both live in a single recital and on recordings. Mr. Chen, born 1980, trained at the Shanghai Conservatory and completed degrees in the United States at Juilliard, Manhattan School of Music, and the Cleveland Institute of Music. He has widely concertized across the world and is currently on the faculty of the Central Conservatory in Beijing.

Throughout these recordings (Accentus Music: Scriabin Piano Sonatas- Yunjie Chen), Yunjie Chen shows himself to be a pianist of formidable technique, a sensitive musician, and a master of pianissimo shading. He always does an excellent job of outlining melodies that Scriabin characteristically puts in the middle of the texture while the hands are surfeited with activity above and below. That he has given a lot of thought and study to Scriabin’s idiom is clearly apparent from the very first sonata, performed with lots of rubato, dynamic nuance, and occasional luftpauses at unexpected moments. I marveled at the exquisitely pedaled veiled, muted tone he gave to the Quasi Niente pppp bars at the very end of the fourth movement of Sonata No. 1. In Sonata No. 2, perhaps the most Chopinesque of the ten, Mr. Chen’s fingers deftly flit through the quasi-aqueous figuration and filigree.

The four-movement Sonata No. 3 may be the easiest and most conventionally lyrical-romantic of the sonatas, but it is still passionately, darkly Scriabin. Pianists have wildly differed on the interpretation and pace of the Allegretto second movement, though the score is metronomically marked eighth note equals 160 in 4/8 meter. In his famous 1960s studio recording, Glenn Gould plays the opening of this movement secco, marking the rhythm almost as in a march as he hums along audibly. Ashkenazy puts the pedal down. Mr. Chen not only pedals the opening but impulsively lurches past the metronome marking, almost collapsing the beats into each other and making a blur of the notes–an interpretive mistake to my ears. In the very last bars of the fourth movement, where the score has two large grand pauses clearly marked to divide the antepenultimate and penultimate phrases, Mr. Chen holds the pedal down right through the pauses, effectively eliminating their dramatic musical punctuation.

The transitional sonatas are Nos. 4 and 5, where Scriabin starts enriching the chromaticism of his harmony almost enigmatically, with short, gasping gnomic phrases floating around like musical amoebas that lead nowhere. In the 4^th he starts dividing the keyboard into registers, separate planes of color and texture on three staves. In the 5^th and later sonatas, he writes in one continuous movement and starts to use unusually specific expressive indications, at first in Italian, then in French (sample from the 9^th : avec une douceur de plus en plus caressante et empoissoneé).

Chen’s performance of the 5^th is one of his most successful, though he tends to favor inserting tiny pauses between slow and fast bars where most other pianists would ride through them observing the prevailing beats, as Richter does, which heightens the excitement by not breaking the line. The last page of the 5^th sonata is very difficult to bring off musically because it seems as if the composer is running out of harmonic steam and the piece just stops rather than ends. Audiences often don’t recognize the ending and wait to clap. I’ll never forget Horowitz’s stage-smart performance of this ending at his November 1974 recital at the Metropolitan Opera House: he physically turned his whole body to face the audience as he played the final figuration at the top of the keyboard, provoking an instant deafening roar of cheers.

Starting with Sonatas Nos. 6 and 7, there are no key signatures. As the Sonatas become more esoteric in their harmonic language, Mr. Chen, though capturing the mood admirably, tends to underplay some notes in the apparent belief that suggestion is more idiomatic than clear articulation. Indeed the Sixth is arguably the creepiest of the sonatas, but I couldn’t hear some of the important ornamentation in the score. The recurrent ornamental grace note quadruplet pattern in bars 44, 63, etc. I couldn’t hear at all. It should be clearly articulated. The so-called “White Mass” Sonata No. 7 is possibly the most technically difficult of the sonatas to play, with the scoring sometimes on four staves, and its famous bar 331: five five-note chords stacked vertically on a single arpeggiated quarter note rolled upward. While Mr. Chen does a masterful job of delicate subito dynamic contrasts, he sometimes doesn’t make the runs or ornamentation speak.

The more recessive, intimate Sonatas Nos. 8 and 10 seem best suited to Mr. Chen’s personality and style and he plays them beautifully. In Sonata No. 9 some of the written pitches didn’t sound, particularly in the precipitous piú vivo section at bars 205-208, an awkward, notorious stumbling block for even the best pianists.

His choice to emphasize suggestion of the tones by caressing the keys rather than actually with distinct articulation sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t. There were many instances in different sonatas where I just couldn’t hear notes clearly delineated, or sometimes hear them at all. Overall, Mr. Chen plays the bass line too sotto voce in all the sonatas, causing an important part of the Scriabin gestalt– not to mention the piano’s frequency spectrum– to lose some presence and definition. Not every fine performance of Scriabin has to have clangorous Horowitzian sforzando bass chords, but the authority of bass resonance has to sound boldly in idiomatic Scriabin, and is needed to balance the sound texture with the high treble filigree. Like many pianists in Scriabin, Mr. Chen sometimes overuses the pedal and forfeits the expressive effect of subito secco.

Perhaps Mr. Chen doesn’t have that demonic over-the-top quality that a few rare pianists bring to this music. Yet to be sure he does successfully summon up and sustain a suitably mystagogic Scriabinesque sound world. This collection is a highly listenable and rewarding release, provided the listener is given the caveat that a surfeit of Scriabin may throw your emotional dials temporarily out of whack!

New York City Opera Orchestra

Constantine Orbelian, conductor

Kristina Reiko Cooper, cello

Elizaveta Ulakhovich, soprano

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 24,2025

“A celebration of survival and perseverance told through the universal language of music” was the advertised theme of a concert given by the New York City Opera Orchestra on Monday evening at Carnegie Hall, featuring music by Mieczysław Weinberg, Erich Wolfgang Korngold, and Gennady Rovner. Exactly how this theme may have applied to the evening was not immediately apparent; it is doubtful that it was the music selected (unless one decides to consider the plots of the films for which some of the works were composed). Was it for the lives of the composers? Korngold did flee Austria before the Anschluss, and Weinberg was harassed by the Soviets (he was arrested in February 1953 in the “Doctors’ Plot,” Stalin’s last purge before his death). Maybe it was about New York City Opera itself, which has had its struggles for the last decade but soldiers onward.

Conductor Constantine Orbelian took the stage to open the first half with Weinberg’s Suite from The Last Inch, as arranged by Sergey Kornienko. The Last Inch was a 1959 Soviet adventure/drama film, one of many films for which Weinberg composed music. This arrangement is a five-minute “survey” of the larger score. Full of color, rhythmic vitality, and memorable melodies, it was a dynamic opener played with gusto.

Cellist Kristina Reiko Cooper took the stage as the soloist in the next two works, Weinberg’s Fantasy for Cello and Orchestra, Op. 52, and Korngold’s Cello Concerto in C major, Op.37.

The Fantasy is essentially a concerto played as a single movement. It has a somber opening of uneasy stillness, before a dance-like motif raises the energy to build to a cello cadenza before returning to the opening mood and eventually fading away. Ms. Cooper’s tone was lush and singing, and she reveled in the happy dance section with a playful approach. There were some brief moments when intonation was imprecise, but Ms. Cooper more than demonstrated her excellent technique along with her artistry throughout.

Originally composed for the 1946 Bette Davis/Claude Rains/Paul Henreid film Deception, Korngold’s Cello Concerto is a single-movement work of approximately thirteen minutes. (Interesting factoid: Korngold conceived this work to be played by Gregor Piatigorsky, but the film studio refused to pay Piatigorsky’s $100,000 fee. Eleanor Aller, mother of conductor Leonard Slatkin, performed it instead.)

There is a lot of action packed into the thirteen minutes, from the lush romantic sweeps of which Korngold was an undisputed master, to some hair-raising virtuosity that would challenge any cellist. Ms. Cooper was a dynamo, moving from the lyric to the demonic with a practiced assurance. One could easily sense her complete immersion in both her part and that of the orchestra, and it was an outstanding performance. The orchestra was charged by her energy, leading at times to an excessive exuberance which threatened to overwhelm Ms. Cooper in a wall of sound, but she always managed to shine through.

The second half was the United States premiere of Metamorphosis by Gennady Rovner. His program bio states that writing music is a “favorite hobby.” His program biography suggests that his main claim to fame is having worked with someone who has worked with a prominent artist (e.g. Paul McCartney, Andrea Bocelli ). These are not the most compelling credentials, and I am at a loss to figure out how this work was programmed – it was not remotely close to being up the standard of the works on the first half.

Metamorphosis is nine short works, of which two include a part for (wordless) soprano. There were no indications or titles attached to any of the nine, but it was clear that the effect was something between film music vignettes and New Age musings. There was nothing particularly original or notable – it was as if AI had been fed instructions for the music (a climax here, some saxophone and accordion here, as if we were in a Parisian café, etc.).

To the credit of the orchestra, they played with the same high level of commitment as they did for the Weinberg and Korngold works. Special mention to concertmaster Laura Frautschi for her gorgeous playing of the solo in the first section. Elizaveta Ulakhovich also made the most of limited opportunity to demonstrate her lovely voice.

It would have been better if the order of the halves had been reversed – the brilliant ending of the Korngold would have been a proper conclusion, rather than the abrupt stop of the Rovner. One hopes that New York City Opera will regain their footing. I wish them all the best.

Stanley L. Roberts, conductor Mercer University Singers

Amy Schwartz Moretti, director, Robert McDuffie Center for Strings

Paul Watkins, guest conductor, Robert McDuffie Center for Strings

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 17, 2025

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented a Presidents’ Day concert titled Sunrise Mass (also the title of an Ola Gjeilo work that was part of the second half) with the Mercer University Singers and Robert McDuffie Center for Strings as the featured ensembles. The program also included the world premiere of From the Frontier – Three American Foks Tunes, as arranged by Mack Wilberg, Béla Bartók’s Divertimento for Strings, Sz. 113, and eight choral works. Mercer University is located in Macon, Georgia, and their many fans and supporters turned out in force. They were one of the more enthusiastic audiences that I have seen in some time, which no doubt lent wings to these talented musicians.

After a greeting from university president William Underwood, Stanley L. Roberts,  the conductor of the Mercer University Singers, took the podium to open the evening. They offered eight selections, of which I will mention some highlights. Two works were flipped in order from the printed program, and there was no announcement to advise the audience of this, which might have caused some confusion for the listener.

Opening with what one might call “cathedral music,” James McMillan’s O Radiant Dawn and Monteverdi’s Cantate Domino, the Mercer singers immediately established their credentials. The ensemble was excellent, without one voice range dominating the others, intonation and crisp diction were all there, and the masterly direction of Mr. Roberts brought all these qualities to the forefront. This was followed by five poignant pieces, of which the luminosity of Hans Bridger Heruth’s Joy (text by Sara Teasdale) and the “looking forward to the next world” of Shawn Kircher’s Sweet Rivers (text by John Adam Granade, adapted by the composer) were notable.

This leads to my one quibble. Many of these selections were so stylistically similar that one might have been excused for wanting a little more variety. To be sure, these works were brilliantly performed, almost as a showcase of this ensemble’s prowess of extracting every last drop of beauty and emotion. Many an ensemble would love to have this “issue.” When they let loose, as they did in the final selection, Craig Courtney’s  Let There Be Light, the effect was electrifying. The jazzy harmonies, the bending tones, and the rhythmic energy brought the audience to their feet in a standing ovation. It was far and away this listener’s favorite of their selections.

After intermission and a stage reset, the Robert McDuffie Center for Strings took the stage. Founded by the noted violinist Robert McDuffie, this program is a special institute within Mercer University’s School of Music. Tonight, some distinguished alumni joined the current members, including the current director Amy Schwartz Moretti, David Kim, concertmaster of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and Mr. McDuffie himself amongst others. Guest Conductor Paul Watkins spoke at length, sharing some memories and his delight at working with these young musicians, before launching into Béla Bartók’s Divertimento for Strings. Composed in 1939 on a commission from Paul Sacher, conductor of the Basel Chamber Orchestra, it is one of Bartok’s most loved and accessible works. Much has been written about this work, so I will leave the arcane musical analysis to the theoreticians. Let’s just imagine Bartók took a time machine to the 18^th century but brought his own “modern” harmonies, Hungarian folk tunes, and metric complexity with him, and joined the past and the present to great effect.  

The opening Allegro non troppo was taut and assured, the dance-like motifs sprinkled about with panache. The second movement Molto adagio was desolate and eerie, with cries of terror punctuating the uneasiness of the ever-building tension. The finale Allegro Assai was a return to the happy mood, with mercurial “bounce” adding  energetic joy. This was a superb performance that any ensemble would have been proud of, and Mr. Watkins deserves kudos for his leadership. The enthusiasm was felt in the audience, who reacted with a standing ovation, which was well deserved.

Mr. Roberts returned to the podium as the Mercer Singers joined for the next three works. The first was Ola Gjeilo’s Sunrise Mass. As I wrote in an earlier review Mr. Gjeilo’s music is not what anyone would describe as revolutionary, as his language is tonal to the core, and there is very little overt complexity, but in this ostensibly simplistic approach he makes magic happen. Sunrise Mass is no exception – it is vintage Gjeilo in its effect.  Mr. Gjeilo gives a very heartfelt explanation of his goals in this mass – a bit too long to quote here, but I suggest the reader follow this link to learn more: Ola Gjeilo on Sunrise Mass.

The four-movement Sunrise Mass uses English titles for the individual movements, but the Latin text of the Mass: The Spheres (Kyrie), Sunrise (Gloria), The City (Credo), and Identity and the Ground (Sanctus/Agnus Dei). It is for the listener to decide the ultimate message, but I prefer the idea of a spiritual journey. It proved to be a journey well-worth taking, and the performance was breathtakingly moving in its sheer beauty. Even Mr. Roberts was moved to address the audience after a standing ovation about how wonderful this work is. I’m sure everyone was in complete agreement.

Next was the world premiere of From the Frontier – Three American Folk Tunes, written as a commission for Mercer by Mack Wilberg, the director of the Tabernacle Choir and a skilled composer in his own right. Mr. Wilberg chose Skip to My Lou, Red River Valley, and Kingwood, but using the text of Lo, On a Narrow Neck of Land. The messages of these songs (hold on to your partner, one might wander, but love waits at home, and honoring all that is sacred, including love) are as timely today as they were in earlier times.

This is a wonderful work that should immediately enter the repertoire. The jaunty bustle of Skip to My Lo, the plaintive simplicity of Red River Valley, and the building intensity of Lo, On a Narrow Neck of Land, demonstrated Mr. Wilberg’s  talent to the maximum effect with the simplest of means. It was given a winning performance, and the audience gave a standing ovation in approval.

The ”programmed encore,” of the folk tune Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing (as arranged by Mack Wilberg), ended the concert. The audience offered a final standing ovation. Congratulations to all!