Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor 

Penelope Shumate, Soprano; Holly Sorensen, Mezzo-Soprano;

Chad Kranak, Tenor; Christopher Job, Bass-Baritone;

Violetta Zabbi, Portative organ;

Distinguished Concerts Singers International;

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra;

Isaac Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 1, 2024

Hearing Handel’s Messiah performed well has long been among the most life-affirming experiences in classical music. It has consistently drawn crowds far exceeding the noteworthy 700 who attended its premiere in Dublin in 1742, and since at least 2011, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) has given it some of New York’s most outstanding performances. This past Sunday’s performance at Carnegie Hall was no exception.

First, for the uninitiated who read this review’s headline and think, “Wait – shouldn’t that read Handel’s Messiah?” – Yes. It is indeed by Handel, but since Mozart revised the orchestration in 1789, it is sometimes called Mozart’s Messiah to distinguish it from the sparer original and later more extravagant versions. As the oratorio soon after its premiere was in demand throughout Europe, various copies were circulating, both in the original English text that Charles Jennens used (from King James Bible verses) and in translations to other languages. By the time Mozart obtained a copy in 1789, in a German version by Daniel Ebeling, it was ready for a musical “update” in keeping with the changing orchestras of the day and with Mozart’s sense of balance. Pairs of flutes, clarinets, oboes, horns, and bassoons were added in a version that has since been widely embraced. Other re-orchestrations followed, including a much larger-scale one made by Eugene Goossens in the twentieth century (which DCINY played as well and recorded), but on this occasion DCINY opted for the more traditional Mozart – sung, however, in English.

This reviewer has heard (and reviewed) DCINY’s now annual Messiah at least three times, both in the Mozart version and the Goossens. Either way, it seems that DCINY has perfected its “recipe” for the piece, and, assuming they are planning to continue it through 2042 (the 300th anniversary of the piece), it may by then be called “DCINY’s Messiah.”

So, what exactly is the DCINY recipe? Well, they start with a core quartet of star singers. Four DCINY “regulars” returned as soloists, soprano Penelope Shumate,  mezzo-soprano Holly Sorenson, tenor Chad Kranak, and bass-baritone Christopher Job – exactly the same as in 2023. (Why tamper with what works?)

From the very first words of the entire oratorio, “Comfort ye my people,” sung by Mr. Kranak, we felt that comfort to which the text refers, ensured by a glorious tenor instrument that never wavered. His melismas in “Ev’ry valley shall be exalted” were as captivating as one remembered from 2023.

Bass-baritone Christopher Job delivered the recitative “Thus saith the Lord” seemingly effortlessly and with refreshingly precise diction. The lines of “But who may abide the day of his coming” extended for miles with similarly seamless ease. His other contributions were excellent as well.

The ever-radiant mezzo-soprano Holly Sorensen sang her first momentous notes with “Behold, a virgin shall conceive,” and from there her voice continued to bloom. Though she was often tasked with singing in a range overlapping with the orchestra’s (including the Mozart wind additions), her voice was rarely lost in the texture, and her phrasing was artfully shaped.

Soprano Penelope Shumate, vibrant as ever, offered perfectly brilliant recitativo introductions to set up the choral “Glory to God.” She simply soared in “He shall feed his flock” as well. One couldn’t help appreciating that, with her energy following through to the last second of each phrase, not a moment or a word-ending was lost.

As for the oratorio’s strictly orchestral movements, the Sinfonia (Overture) and Pifa (Pastoral Symphony), they were as reliable as ever, with concertmaster Jorge Ávila offering exceptionally strong leadership. DCINY has a regular core orchestra with, one assumes, some additions as needed, but as we talk about formulas for success, such long-standing members are not to be underestimated.

Last of all, in the DCINY “recipe,” is the combining of choruses from all over the world to join forces. DCINY finds the perfect blend of professional, semi-professional, and amateur singers, so that, along with the skill required to navigate some demanding music, comes the energy of those who find performing at Carnegie Hall to be a thrilling adventure. The air is always alive with excitement, and this time was no exception, with the parquet and first balcony completely filled (undoubtedly partly by some friends and relatives of performers) as well-trained choruses from far and wide filed onstage to become a single mega-chorus. The participating choruses included the American International School Of Vienna High School Choir (Austria), Arts For Manitoba Indigenous Youth Choir (Canada), The Alabama Civic Chorale (AL), Baha’i Choir (IL), Chorale 77 (PA), Franklin Civic Operetta Association Festival Choir (PA), Illiana Oratorio Society (IL), Madisonville Community Chorus (KY), Mendelssohn Choir Of Connecticut (CT), Nebo Holiday Chorus & Orchestra (UT), St. Paul’s Episcopal Church Choir (NC), Trinity Episcopal Church Choir, Everett (WA), Trinity Episcopal Church Choir, and St. Mary’s City (MD) – in addition to individual singers from around the world.

From the first full choral entry of “And the Glory of the Lord,” the enormous combined choruses were in top form. It was not possible to count them, but they spilled over from the several risers spanning the wide Perelman stage and onto the orchestral area just behind the violins. This sound was possibly even better and stronger than one recalls from previous years. One of the only sketchy moments in the combined choruses arose in the “And He shall purify” movement, where the penchant in various voices to slow down (to articulate each sixteenth note) sometimes threatened the unity of the twisty imitative lines. Maestro Griffith, as ever, held the reins, leading the masses quickly and solidly onward, and the result was stirring. “For unto us a child is born” was simply, as the choral exclamations state, “Wonderful!”

It was a slight surprise that the “Hallelujah” chorus did not conclude the concert, as it would have been ending “on a high” – instead, it was followed by the “Worthy is the Lamb that was Slain” chorus and the final “Amen.” These were played commendably, but this listener would still have opted for the “Hallelujah” close. In any case, congratulations are due to all involved. DCINY’s Messiah seems to mark – along with the lighting of the Rockefeller Center tree – the official start to the New York holiday season!

Jimin Han, piano

Judy and Arthur Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 24, 2024

Tonight’s performance at Zankel Hall featured pianist Jimin Han in an inventive and adventurous program with modern works that are not often played. It is refreshing to see an artist with a commitment to introducing new works to audiences – it is a testament to this performer’s bravery and brilliance.

The most well-known composer on the program was Samuel Barber (1910–1981), though the works performed tonight were far from the usual selections found on recital programs. The Ballade, Op. 46, opened with a set of arresting chords that immediately drew the listener into Barber’s unique sound world. Drawing inspiration from Frédéric Chopin, a renowned composer of ballades, Barber wrote in the duple meter of 6/8, yet he infused the form with his own dramatic harmonic language. Ms. Han brought a transparent, luminous tone to the opening section, while her interpretation of the intense middle section displayed both power and command. As the A-section returned, she evoked a haunting sense of the drama that had just unfolded.

The Nocturne, Op. 33, is another rarely performed work, again belonging to a genre strongly associated with Chopin, but here dedicated to John Field, who is credited to be originator of the form. While its thematic content employs twelve-tone techniques, the piece is crafted in a way that maintains a sense of a tonal center. Ms. Han’s performance displayed great sensitivity, though it could have benefitted from a more singing tone. A more successful interpretation might have embraced the interplay between the work’s angular, expressive melodies and its harmonically grounded, traditional elements, fully exploiting its unique character. This nocturne develops and uncovers more and more drama which was handled technically well, but left the listener wanting for a grander climax, especially in the intricate and beautifully dissonant cadenza. The ending could have had more of a sense of gravity.

Next on the program was a piece by Aaron Jay Kernis (b. 1960), LullabyfromBefore Sleep and Dreams. This piece had a hypnotic opening which Ms. Han played in a captivating manner. Her keen sense of pulse captured the lullaby’s gentle rocking motion, while the surrounding material seemed to float effortlessly. She navigated the larger, more romantic outbursts with expertise, skillfully exploiting the piece’s coloristic use of registers. This alluring work provided a beautiful and seamless transition from the more serious tone of the Barber pieces.

Another new work for this reviewer was one by Paul Schoenfield (1947-2024), Selections fromPeccadilloes. These three movements were interesting as they all referenced Baroque dances and older forms, but seen through a modern lens. The first movement, Allemande, was particularly striking, with its harmonic intricacies brought to life with great clarity by Ms. Han. While the piece began with rhythmic and textural nods to the traditional Baroque dance, it soon evolved into something more intimate and contemporary, blending old and new in a compelling way. The next movement, Fughetto, was the highlight of the three. This energetic fugue was expertly handled, and all the surprising syncopated and jazzy rhythms were delineated beautifully – what a wild ride for the performer and the listener! The last movement, Waltz, began with a mystical opening. Ms. Han was able to successfully guide the listening through the intricacies of the sophisticated harmonies and still communicate the essence of the dance. The end was supple and performed with great care – a satisfying conclusion to the first half of the recital.

The second half of the program had works by three Korean composers. It is an important endeavor to highlight composers from parts of the world that are typically underrepresented on recital programs. It was exciting to see unfamiliar names on the program, and I commend Ms. Han for her dedication to performing not only works by composers from her own cultural heritage but also pieces by living composers who are actively writing new music.

The first work, The Wave, was by Bumki Kim (b. 1974). This programmatic piece depicts the waves on the Southern Coast of Korea, a storm, and the calming of that storm by the sunrise breaking. This is achieved by a lulling and continuous patterns that eventually explode into a giant climax. The composer exploits the instrument through its extreme range and dynamics. Some of the louder sections felt a bit forced by Ms. Han as they could have been played grander and with more resonance. However, it was still a successful performance, and she had good control over the arc of the work.

The Little Blue Bird Dance Suite by Korean composer Heejung Park (b. 1978), another programmatic work, uses the bluebird symbolically. The piece depicts the story of a little bluebird being pursued by hunter unknowingly. The innocent opening is followed by an ominous scene where the “bluebird [is] left behind be its mother in a dark forest at dawn.” The drama of the work unfolds organically and naturally – and Ms. Han carries the audience through to the different sections seamlessly and with great poise. It was wonderful to see the composer present and acknowledged at the conclusion of the work.

The centerpiece of the program, in this reviewer’s opinion, was the next work: the Complete Piano Etudes by Unsuk Chin (b. 1961). While these works are becoming increasingly recognized, they are still rarely programmed in recitals—perhaps due to their extreme difficulty, which are on a par with the Ligeti etudes. However, Chin’s approach is distinct, drawing inspiration from various sources rather than directly following Ligeti’s model of solving compositional problems.

The first étude, In C, uses the overtones of C to establish its harmonic foundation while incorporating elements inspired by Balinese gamelan music, reminiscent of the approach taken by early 20th-century French composers. The result is a dazzling display of color, technique, and sound that can captivate even the most skeptical audience member. Ms. Han performed this etude magnificently and played the most complex passages with ease. Etudes 2 through 4 are of a different word and certainly the one that stands out is No. 3, Scherzo. She performed this with a distinct touch and character. The figures were played in a shapely manner while still maintaining drive and a sense of the greater pulse. The famous etude No. 5, Toccata was precise, and Ms. Han followed the longer line of long tones quite well – an impressive feat! And, finally, No. 6, Grains, felt like a kaleidoscope of sounds. Ms. Han certainly knows her way around these works!

At first, the programming of the recital seemed somewhat mellow, with the pieces in the first half conveying a similar tone. However, upon further reflection, it became clear that the intentional placement of the Chin études allowed for a gradual build-up, guiding the audience on a journey toward the apex of these extraordinary works. I appreciate the artist’s thoughtful programming and look forward to seeing her in another recital in the future.

Ms. Han concluded the recital after thunderous applause with an encore: Hesitation Tango from Souvenirs, by Samuel Barber – a perfect bookend to the evening.

Eric Whitacre, composer/conductor

Kelly Yu-Chien Lin, piano

Laurence Servaes, “Della;” David Castillo, “Jim”;  Sean Jean Ford. “Sheila;” April Amante, “Mrs. Sinclair”; Peter Kendall Clark. “Shopkeeper”

Distinguished Concerts Singers International; Distinguished Concerts Orchestra

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 26, 2024

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) kicked off their holiday concert series on November 26, 2024, with a concert entitled “An Eric Whitacre Holiday,” featuring the world premiere of the orchestrated version of Mr. Whitacre’s short opera The Gift of the Magi. Other works by Mr. Whitacre and holiday pieces by others filled out the program. The Distinguished Concerts Singers International came from Maryland, Ohio, Wisconsin, Georgia, Nevada, Alabama, Washington, North Carolina, Michigan, Colorado, California, Canada, United Kingdom, and “individual singers from around the globe.”

Eric Whitacre is a DCINY favorite – this is his 22^nd(!) appearance with DCINY. He is a composer, educator, and musical evangelist who brings his boundless energy and matchless charisma to the stage. He tells stories that he has probably told hundreds of times (and I have heard the “Kung Fu Panda” story at least six times) as if he were telling it for the first time.

As much as the chorus benefited from Mr. Whitacre’s guidance in refining them into giving outstanding performances, it should be said that the respective directors of the individual groups deserve praise for their preparatory work which made Mr. Whitacre’s job significantly easier. This was evident from the Carol of the Bells, which opened the first half with energy and precision.

Mr. Whitacre’s Lux Aurumque, Glow, little tree, and The Seal Lullaby (see “Kung Fu Panda” story) from the first half and Goodnight Moon (which opened the second half) are all works I have written about extensively in past reviews. Interested readers can reference those past reviews if they desire detailed information about the works. Suffice it to say, they all, even after many hearings, retain their luster and appeal.

Rounding out the first half,  Kristina Arakelyan’s Ave Maris Stella had a simple charm that enchanted. Melissa Dunphy’s Halcyon Days had a sentimental quality that was touching, even though the sopranos at times seemed to struggle with some of the higher register passages. Mr. Whitacre told us in the second half that he learned Ms. Dunphy was in attendance and asked her to stand, which she did to enthusiastic applause from the audience. The traditional hymn Brightest and Best had an insistent intensity that was striking. Finally, John Williams’s Star of Bethlehem (from his score for the movie Home Alone) was an excellent end to the first half.

After intermission (and Goodnight Moon, which opened the second half) , the stage was set for the world premiere of the orchestrated version of Mr. Whitacre’s (with Evan L. Synder) The Gift of the Magi. Mr. Whitacre wrote the libretto based on the 1905 O. Henry short story of the same name. For those who may not be familiar with this classic story, it centers on a young couple, Della and Jim, struggling to make ends meet. They search for Christmas gifts for each other, and the result is that Jim parts with his valuable heirloom watch to buy Della combs, and Della sells her long hair to buy Jim a watch chain – both gifts rendered nearly useless. The end message is that selfless love is the most precious gift of all. Mr. Whitacre’s version differs from the original in a few areas: he has the year as 1938, with Della having a job in a salon (she had no job in the original), her hair is blonde in this setting (it is brown in the original), the watch chain is gold (platinum in the original), and the haggling for the sale of Della’s hair in the salon is Mr. Whitacre’s invention (in the original, Della visits the nearby shop of a wig maker, Madame Sofronie, who buys Della’s hair for $20 straight away without any further negotiation). For those not too purist about the 1905 original, these changes emerge as quite effective in propelling the opera.

The Gift of the Magi clocks in around thirty-five minutes. The addition of the orchestra adds considerable heft, accentuating the hustle and bustle of the season, and turns the salon screen into a showstopping burlesque fit for a Broadway musical. My main issue was that everything seemed so rushed, that maybe some brief interludes of instrumental music might have “smoothed” the pace. That being said, this is an adventurous work, filled with difficult passages and large leaps for the soprano (Della), biting dissonances, and at times relentless drive – this is not the Eric Whitacre of Lux Aurumque! It is a work that could (and should) find its place in the holiday canon, assuming that one can find performers of exceptional ability to meet the challenges.

The entire cast from an earlier (2022) performance returned tonight. Peter Kendall Clark had the right amount of obsequiousness as the Shopkeeper trying to sell Della a watch chain. April Amante captured the snobbish attitude of the haughty Mrs. Sinclair, and Sara Jean Ford nearly brought the house down as the jaded Sheila. David Castillo as Jim projected his struggles and his devotion to Della with polished tones. Without wishing to take anything away from these fine artists, it was Laurence Servaes as Della who was the star of the evening – and to be sure, a lot of that is built into both the story and the challenging part Mr. Whitacre wrote for the role of Della! Whether it was tossing off wide leaps with ease, soaring into the stratosphere without any loss of vocal quality, or just projecting the almost ingénue quality of Della, Ms. Servaes was truly outstanding. Finally, the mighty chorus served well in the role of narrator.

The large audience gave all a loud ovation, with the loudest cheers for Ms. Servaes. DCINY continues the holiday series on December 1^st with Handel’s Messiah, in Mozart’s version.

Gregorio Benítez, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 22, 2024

Spanish-born pianist Gregorio Benítez gave what one could only call a miraculous recital this week, turning Weill Hall at Carnegie into a virtual aviary with seven selections from Olivier Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux (Catalogue of Birds). Mr. Benítez (completely unknown to this reviewer until now) came to New York as part of a world tour dedicated to the complete solo piano works of Messiaen. Anyone who has played from this Messiaen set knows the challenges – the thorny dissonances, complex chords, techniques from total serialism, quixotic rhythms in unmetered measures, and highly precise markings (for articulations, dynamics, and pedaling) – all requiring “translation” through drama and color to an audience without the added stimulus of Messiaen’s evocative scores (interspersed with descriptions of French landscapes). To do just one or two well is admirable, but Mr. Benítez did an entire program of them – and superbly. Straining credulity, he did it as part of a world tour traversal of Messiaen’s complete piano solo works (thus adding the rest of the Oiseaux, the other great cycle, Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus, the Préludes, the Études, and a few shorter works).

Adding to one’s amazement, it appeared that Mr. Benítez played from memory – with no book, tablet, pedal-turner, or anything else visible (unless there was some secret “smart” device in his eyeglasses, in which case this reviewer wants a pair). Lest anyone think that the usual concert mishaps would be easily disguised in Messiaen’s musical bird calls  – with sometimes two iterations, sometimes seven or twelve with tiny variations each time –  there was no “fudging” whatsoever, as your reviewer had access to a score throughout and can attest to the fact that hardly a millisecond was criticizable. The performance could have gone practically straight to release, to be added to the small list of great Messiaen cycle recordings (with those of Yvonne Loriod, Messiaen’s second wife, at the top of the list).

As many performers of pre-twentieth-century repertoire will agree, audiences are often unduly impressed with memorization feats, frequently asking questions such as, “How do you remember all those notes?” We are left wanting to assure them that we are not remembering isolated “notes” but a whole conception made of phrases, progressions, and structures – as with an actor living a role rather than logging thousands of words. That is the case with earlier or more conventional repertoire, but seldom does one see a scoreless pianist inhabiting the newer sonic worlds of this Messiaen set (1959) as Mr. Benítez did. He simply became the lark, the thrush, and the curlew – while coloring the scenery around them.

Catalogue d’Oiseaux includes thirteen pieces (spanning seven cahiers or notebooks), with each piece named after a single bird associated with a French region and each titular birdsong accompanied – or often interrupted and replaced – by songs of other birds from the same habitat. These songs alternate with music in which Messiaen intended to evoke their surroundings – the word “intended” used here only because the composer’s chromesthesia is not always transferrable to the listener. Mr. Benítez brought it about as close as one might imagine.

From the very first notes of the concert in Le Traquet Stapazin (The Western Black-eared Wheatear), Mr. Benítez exuded confidence as he led us on a tour of the sunny Côte Vermeille, dotting the soundscape with cries of silvery delicacy, insistent (and at times comical) squawks, and the occasional brusque avian scolding. Balletic pianistic gestures seemed designed not for show but to feel the character of each moment – as well as ensuring perfect timing from one scene to the next as if shifting the camera lens. Whether or not these movements were conscious, they actually enhanced the experience.

After a short pause, with no applause from the spellbound audience, came L’alouette calandrelle (The Short-toed Lark). One of the most touching of the whole set, its two opening chords recur amongst the bird calls to evoke the arid solitude of the Crau plain. In the opening chord, this reviewer had one of the few reservations of the entire evening, which was the desire for more of the B-sharp against the C-sharp, together creating the sting of loneliness and the memory of that each time it recurs. Overall, though, Mr. Benítez captured the atmosphere beautifully. The skylarks were well-served by the glassy upper register of the piano, and the sounds of quails, cicadas, and a kestrel all combined by contrast to underscore the desolation.

L’alouette lulu (The Woodlark) opened as a dreamy nocturne, its chant-like bass representing the night against the growing songs from the woodlark and nightingale. Le loriot (The Golden Oriole) closed the first half with one of the widest arrays of birdcalls and personalities (including one that was most comically noted by Messiaen as “autoritaire” or authoritarian) – all amid sunlit gardens and woods. Mr. Benítez projected it all vividly, from the moody opening through the long stretches of tangled cacophony, with drama and dazzling fingerwork. Memorable moments included the grive musicienne (song thrush) in what emerged as a moment of avian jazz. Striking also was the matter-of-factness of some of the bird calls, unromanticized. As Messiaen wrote, “My music is not ‘nice;’ it is certain.” These are not the birds of Keats and Shelley – or even of Henselt or Ravel – but creatures possessing a wild and limitless range of colors and energies.

One sometimes feels about this set that Messiaen’s poetic descriptions preceding each score ought to be included in the program, as they fill in blanks about the landscapes and birds where the gap from even a great pianist to his listener may not be bridged. It may also be relevant that Messiaen’s father was a literature professor and his mother the poet Cecile Sauvage, so it was natural to verbalize images that might be hard to transmit through music alone (as, for example, the oriole’s call, which for him was “like the laughter of a foreign prince” evoking “Africa and Asia or some unknown planet, full of light and rainbows and smiles of Leonardo De Vinci”).

The second half of the program was devoted to three Oiseaux, from Le merle de roche (the Rock Thrush), proceeding to Le courlis cendré  (The Curlew), and Le traquet rieur (The Black Wheatear). More of the magic described in the first half was found here, though with more foreboding spirit and some increasingly big sounds as demanded by the composer (at times verging on excessive harshness for this listener who had to cover her ears). A high point was Le courlis cendré – a tour de force in this pianist’s hands.

In summary, whether or not one embraces the piano music of Messiaen, Gregorio Benítez offers perhaps the best chance today to hear his piano music live, at least based on this hearing of seven of the Oiseaux. This listener went from the usual yawn upon reading the glowing words in the pianist’s biography before the concert (“yes, critics say he is ‘hypnotic’ and ‘extraordinary’ – that’s what lots of press releases say”) to thinking such words are inadequate.

Mr. Benítez has performed in the United States, Japan, Germany, Austria, the United Kingdom, France, and Portugal. His recorded works have been featured on MDR KLASSIK, King Classic Radio, NHK, TVE, Radio Clásica, Catalunya Música, Canal Sur, and Cuatro TV. Additionally, he has performed as a soloist with orchestras such as the MDR Sinfonieorchester, the Orquesta Sinfónica de RTVE, the Joven Orquesta de la Comunidad de Madrid, the Ensemble de Música Contemporánea RCSMM, the Osaka Sinfonietta, the Modern Orchestra of Beijing, and the Columbia Contemporary Music Group. He holds a Ph.D. in Music from the Universitat Politècnica de Valencia and has been a contributor to “Melómano” magazine since 2015.

His studies have taken him to the Royal Academy of Music in London and the Hochschule für Musik und Theater in Leipzig, and his teachers have included his father, Dr. Auxiliadora Gil, Prof. Julián López Gimeno, Josep Colom, and Prof. Markus Tomas, in addition to lessons from pianists such as Alicia de Larrocha, Leon Fleisher, Emanuel Ax, Menahem Pressler, and fortepianists Robert Levin, Malcolm Bilson, and Paul Badura-Skoda.

Beyond all his credentials, Gregorio Benítez is simply an amazing artist whose Messiaen interpretations will make a mark. He deserved a much larger crowd at Weill Hall, and one wondered where were, say, all the composition students or pianists from the various New York conservatories (as this concert was the equivalent of a few dozen lessons). In any case, for those wishing to track him down, the other venues listed on this tour include Severance Hall in Cleveland, Place des Arts in Montreal, the Musikverein in Vienna, the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam, the Konzerthaus Berlin, the Mozarteum in Salzburg, the Palau de la Música in Barcelona, the Rudolfinum in Prague, the Hong Kong City Hall, and the Oriental Arts Centre in Shanghai.

Ian Hobson, piano

Tenri Cultural institute, New York, NY

November 15, 2024

Tonight’s performance was another retrospective into the complete piano works of Robert Schumann (1810-1856) by pianist Ian Hobson. This program, titled Visions of Youth, explored works that not only were composed for young pianists and students, but also reflected on childhood memories and themes.

It is rare for a recital program to feature works typically assigned to young learners, especially when performed by a pianist of Mr. Hobson’s caliber. The first half of the program, however, offered just that. Album für die Jugend, Op. 68 (Album for the Young), a staple in every piano instructor’s library, was presented in its entirety. Hearing the complete set was a different and enlightening experience, offering insights into Schumann’s thought process as he sought to encompass a wide range of fundamental piano techniques and expressive elements.

Mr. Hobson’s interpretations were thoughtful, imaginative, and sophisticated—qualities that brought a surprising depth to these simple pieces. Of particular note were No. 5, Stückchen, No. 16, Erster Verlust (First Loss), and No. 18, Schnitterliedchen (Little Reaper’s Song), which were rendered with supple lines and beautiful touches of imagination. The faster movements bristled with energy and verve: No. 2, Soldatenmarsch (Soldier’s March) was bold, and No. 12, Knecht Ruprecht (Servant Ruprecht) was suitably turbulent.

The program’s better-known pieces were a delight to hear. No. 10, Fröhlicher Landmann, von der Arbeit zurückkehrend (Merry Peasant, Returning from Work) radiated joy, and No. 14, Kleine Studie (Little Study) unfolded with ease. However, No. 8, Wilder Reiter (Wild Rider), with its galloping rhythm, was taken a bit too fast, resulting in some loss of clarity, particularly in the B section. Similarly, No. 17, Kleiner Morgenwanderer (Little Morning Wanderer) and No. 25, Nachklänge aus dem Theater (Reminiscences from the Theater) could have benefited from a warmer tone and a lighter touch.

The seldom-heard later movements were a revelation. No. 20, Ländliches Lied (Country Song) was tender, and No. 30 (untitled) revealed a more introspective and contemplative side of Schumann—one that might well have been attributed to Eusebius. These pieces encapsulate every facet of piano technique and musicality from beginner to advanced, offering a treasure trove of delights for both performers and listeners.

The second part of the concert began with Drei Clavier-Sonaten für die Jugend, Op. 118(Three Sonatas for the Young) —late works that provide a glimpse into the talent and skill of the composer’s three children, for whom these sonatas were written. While the idea of new piano sonatas for students is intriguing, these pieces require young learners of exceptional ability to navigate their challenges.

The first sonata in G major stands out as one of the more engaging works. Its short movements are captivating, and they were performed with great care. The second movement, a Theme and Variations, was particularly striking, in originality and character. The third movement, a lighthearted piece, felt more like an introduction to the lively Rondoletto that followed. A touch more rhythmic swing might have better conveyed the character of this final movement.

The second sonata, more esoteric in nature, was skillfully interpreted by Mr. Hobson. Despite the repetitive nature of the first movement, it maintained enough contrast to charm the listener. The second movement, an exercise in counterpoint, offered a technical challenge well-suited to young pianists. The serene Abendlied (Evening Song) served as the slow movement, while Kindergesellschaft (Children’s Company) captured the innocence and playfulness of childhood. An intriguing work!

The final sonata embarks on an adventurous journey in C major. The Allegro was played with a lively spirit and dynamic color shifts that highlighted harmonic changes. The second movement, reflective and meandering, was quintessentially Schumann in its introspective quality. The bold and bombastic Zigeunertanz (Romani Dance) brought energy and flair, while Traum eines Kindes (A Child’s Dream) closed the piece with imagination and nostalgia. By referencing the first movement, this finale achieved a satisfying sense of cyclicality.

Certainly, the most well-known works on tonight’s program are the Kinderszenen, Op. 15. Though inspired by childhood, these scenes are not intended as teaching pieces for children. Instead, they evoke a sense of nostalgia, capturing fleeting moments of childhood through a reflective lens.

One of my personal favorites, No. 1, Von fremden Ländern und Menschen (Of Foreign Lands and Peoples), was played with beautiful simplicity by Mr. Hobson. Among the highlights were No. 3, Hasche-Mann (Blind Man’s Buff), whose buildup to the climax was masterfully executed, and No. 4, Bittendes Kind (Pleading Child), which left the audience nearly breathless. No. 5, Glückes genug (Happy Enough) might have benefited from a more transparent interpretation, but it remained enjoyable.

At the heart of the work is, of course, the iconic No. 7, Träumerei (Dreaming), a piece with a history of being performed on its own by many world-renowned artists. However, tonight’s performance felt too grounded in the real world, lacking the fantasy and introspection that define this beloved movement. In contrast, No. 10, Fast zu Ernst (Almost Too Serious) and No. 11, Fürchtenmachen (Frightening) were especially memorable, showcasing Mr. Hobson’s sensitivity and attention to detail.

Tonight’s concert was a rare and remarkable experience, bringing together a complete performance of these cherished works. It is hard to imagine having the opportunity to hear these pieces presented collectively in a single recital again. Mr. Hobson’s dedication to Robert Schumann and his artistry made the evening truly special. The next all-Schumann concert, featuring trios, is scheduled for December 13—we eagerly await another extraordinary performance!

Jinyoung Park Kim, Viola; Sonja Park, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 17, 2024

Something special often happens when family members perform together, and a Sunday concert by sisters Jinyoung Park Kim, violist, and Sonja Park, pianist, supported that generalization. There were many moments of oneness, and a warmth of spirit pervaded Weill Hall. Presented by Mannes Prep, where Jinyoung Park Kim teaches, this sold-out concert had a refreshingly large contingent of excited young listeners, many seeming to know one another and some bearing flowers.

This concert was described in the violist’s notes as “a special reunion for Ms. Park Kim as she joins her sister, pianist Sonja Park, on stage.” Indeed, considering that Ms. Park’s piano career in recent years has been based in Doha, Qatar, one guesses that playing together has probably been inconvenient, to say the least; if rehearsals were at all scarce, however, their individual professionalism paired with family bonds carried the day. Both musicians have biographies filled with numerous awards, accolades, and international performances, and both have been instrumental (pun intended) in supporting and cultivating young talent in classical music.

The program was billed fancifully as “Romantic Reveries” – with “Romantic” clearly not referring to the historical era, as the program opened with a viola version of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 3 in C major (BWV 1009); Ms. Kim, however, did take a somewhat Romantic approach in her rendition of this much-loved suite. (This reviewer would opt for that any day over some of the fustiness we sometimes hear in the name of historical fidelity.) Her opening Prelude unfolded expansively, with no taint of the metronome about it but rather some welcome agogics gently emphasizing important metric and cadential points. Her tone was full, warm, and focused. The whole suite was finished in a flash due to the avoidance of repeats (perhaps a decision made with the younger audience members in mind), but a repeat of the first section of the Sarabande allowed some judicious embellishment, and naturally there was the built-in repeat of Bourrée I after Bourrée II.  Many would argue against the condensing of such a great work, but this is not the forum for such involved debate; furthermore, those working with the young these days and having to compete with smartphones for attention must follow their own instincts. The audience – of all ages – was rapt. Ms. Kim’s Gigue simply danced, closing the set with joy.

Music from the actual Romantic era followed as Ms. Kim and Ms. Park joined forces for the Brahms Sonata in E-flat, Op. 120, No. 2. Originally composed for clarinet after being inspired by the great clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld, the viola version was said to have left the composer with some doubts (not unusual, as Brahms excelled in the department of doubt);  we mere mortals, however, are grateful for the increased hearings afforded by this version (as well as other versions). One challenge, though, in performing such a clarinet work with viola involves adjusting the balance given the more contrasting timbres, but fortunately, even with the highly resonant hall Steinway (with the lid wisely set on the half-stick), the viola was never overpowered. One could guess how much restraint was being used overall from the way the piano’s sound penetrated during solo passages.

All in all, the Park-Kim duo projected a strong feeling for this mature and soulful work. Memorable moments included the seamless exchange within phrases in the opening Allegro amabile movement, where one heard the musical equivalent of the two sisters finishing each other’s sentences. Also memorable, in the second movement’s central B-major section, was the way they captured the composer’s characteristic nobility, with Ms. Park setting the tone perfectly. They impressed throughout with their split-second reactions, and in tricky ensemble passages one couldn’t help noticing that the two seemed to need no cues. Plenty were given (even if in a vestigial sort of way), but those seemed more coincidental than causal, as there was already a mutuality verging on telepathy (more effective than nods or gestures)!

After intermission, Ms. Park played two solo piano works, first the Gershwin-Wild Embraceable You and then the Schumann-Liszt Widmung (“Dedication”) in a switch of order from the printed program. On the subject of the printed program itself, this reviewer was surprised to see Embraceable You listed solely as Gershwin. For such music, where more than a workaday arrangement has been made, it seems remiss not to list the arranger/transcriber, in this instance, the late Earl Wild, whose inspired piano version has quite a following. In any case, both transcriptions seemed well-suited to this pianist’s penchant for “romantic reverie” – and, aside from a few minor snags that were well-handled, they were both quite lovely. (To this listener, there could have been more time given to the final Ave Maria section at the end, but Vive la différence!)

The high point of this well-paced program came next in a set of seven pieces from the ballet Romeo and Juliet by Prokofiev, arranged for viola and piano – again with an unlisted transcriber, though one is almost certain that it was Vadim Borisovsky. Crediting aside, the duo took this dazzling set through a panoramic journey, starting with its meditative Introduction. They continued theirride through the jaunty pizzicati and harmonics of The Street Awakens and thefeverish energy of Juliet the Young Girl. The famous Dance of the Knights, with its hair-raising viola octaves and stomping piano bass, emerged as epic, and Mercutio, which followed, had just the right wild athleticism. The Balcony Scene and the Death of Juliet brought the program to an emotionally stirring close, with the only signs of fatigue being a minor intonation glitch or two, but those somehow even added further to the pathos of it all. The entranced audience gave a standing ovation.

Encores included a touching Romance by Sang Jin Kim and  – if one heard correctly in the noisy hall – a hymn arrangement made especially for them by James Ra.

Teodora Brody, vocalist; Stanley Jordan, guitarist and pianist

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 8, 2024

There is something odd in writing music criticism about musical performers as natural and spontaneous as vocalist Teodora Brody and guitarist-pianist Stanley Jordan. It is rather like reviewing a forest or an ocean. Where does one start – and why? The best that one can do is to urge music lovers to hear them in live concert – rather, experience them – as a large crowd did at Carnegie’s Zankel Hall last Friday. As individual artists, Ms. Brody and Mr. Jordan have reached the heights in their fields, but to evaluate what they did together in this latest program by any established standards would be a mistake. They were doing something rare and original, a musical exploration à deux that was raw, real, and completely of the moment.

Some background on the two is in order. Guitar virtuoso Stanley Jordan has drawn the world’s attention (including this mostly classical musician’s) for decades. His visionary musicality – along with his piano background – led to his probing of touch techniques (including “hammer-on” and “pull-off” techniques using just one hand) to achieve ever greater textures and expressivity, even playing two guitars (or guitar and piano) simultaneously. (The reader can hear his version of “Stairway to Heaven” as one example: Stairway to Heaven- Stanley Jordan.) His music (whether pop-rock, innovative jazz, or classical reimaginings) has taken him to Kool Jazz, Concord Jazz, and Montreux Jazz festivals, as well as earning him four Grammy nominations. The long list of famous musicians he has played with is impressive, including Dizzy Gillespie, Kenny Rogers, Les Paul, and others. Notable among these luminaries was the great Quincy Jones, whose death the world mourns this month and with whom Mr. Jordan played in 1976 while still in high school. To round out the picture, Mr. Stanley’s scholarly credentials include a Bachelor of Arts from Princeton, where he studied theory and composition with Milton Babbit. His impulse for outreach has him now working towards a master’s degree in music therapy at Arizona State University, along with being a lecturing artist and spokesperson in that field. He seems to have no limits.

Crossover artist Teodora Brody, acclaimed vocalist in her native Romania and internationally, has similarly impressive credentials, particularly for her fusion of jazz with Doina, the improvisatory folk tradition of Romania. She has been the recipient of important honors from Romania and the US and has performed at the Montreux, Marciac, and Lugano festivals, among others, as well as at the US Library of Congress, the Corcoran Gallery of Art, New York’s Iridium, and the Kennedy Center. In two weeks, she will perform with the London Symphony Orchestra, with whom she recorded a CD entitled Rhapsody in 2023. She has performed with Johnny Răducanu, Les Paul, and many other well-known artists, and often throughout Europe with Stanley Jordan, who calls the experience of playing with her as “indescribable and unpredictable magic.” Indescribable is what her voice itself is as well, but we are tasked with detailing what we heard, so let’s start with a pitch range of four octaves (bringing to mind the legendary Yma Sumac), matched by the widest imaginable spectrum of timbres and colors, from whispers, moans, and wails to sustained piercing heights, all combining into a limitless palette in service to a fearless spirit.

There was no actual program given out at this concert (just a booklet with biographies and the like), as we were informed that the duo would perform without programs, scores, or even rehearsal. For this concert – fittingly called “Impromptu” – the goal was to create a “wild journey,” as Ms. Brody announced from the stage, connecting to one’s inner self and exploring (as the printed notes state) “how suffering can be transformed into wisdom through the beauty within us all.” Though many classical and jazz musicians also profess to follow the inner self and play all or partially without a score, this particular collaboration took spontaneity to new levels. Aside from a handful of nods to notated music towards the end of this concert, the evening was about an hour and a half (with no intermission) of completely spontaneous music-making, never to be repeated, with almost no songs or composers for a reviewer to cite. With only what one imagines may have been some safety net from past collaborations, the duo launched, with the audience, into the unknown.

The unknown can be unsettling, but in a way that mirrors life. As there were no breaks for talking or applause for roughly the first forty-five minutes of the concert, one was never certain what lay ahead, or for how long – or even how the duo was managing synchronized transitions from one mood or harmonic progression into the next with no visible cues (except for what seemed some possible signals via a cylinder bell from Ms. Brody at certain junctures or lulls). There were often no discernible words either, merely syllables, but as the concert was presented by the Associazione Unifying Worlds, it seemed fitting that the chief language was music. One had to do the best one could to understand it all, but we knew we were in good hands.

How does one start a duo performance with no rehearsal or score? The answer is: alone. Ms. Brody began the program with what resembled an incantation centering on a few words about “the play of life and death we see everywhere,” but the eerie and dramatic tone took musical shape chiefly from wordless syllables to follow. Centering often on a single focal pitch around which she wove expanding melodies (seemingly influenced by her Doina singing, with flavors and motives of Middle Eastern music), she clearly followed that “inner self” with what started as basic harmonic support from Mr. Jordan and evolved into a joint exploration. Together, they settled into expanding patterns, rhythms, and flights of imagination, fusing folk with blues and a range of jazz styles.

Ms. Brody moved from slow lyricism, sometimes basic breathing noises, to high-energy scat singing and rhythmic dance, punctuated by intentional plosives that a beatboxer might envy. She built bluesy riffs into fiery peaks with virtuoso support and inspiration from Mr. Jordan. Overall arch shapes were naturally prevalent as the duo could latch onto a long-term climb or descent together in ways that felt organic. The music alternately sighed, rumbled, and exploded, as uninhibited as something one might create alone at home – but few could pull off such a feat so artfully in public, much less at Carnegie Hall.

Among the few reservations, one was that there seemed some overuse of repeated or drone-like basses – understandably as a way to keep the duo’s improvisations anchored, but still occasionally making things a shade monochromatic at times, despite Mr. Jordan’s brilliant and tonally adventurous elaborations above them.

One could imagine narratives or emotions through much of the evening, but there was little guidance. There was a more explicit narrative as Mr. Jordan moved from his seat in the center towards the stage piano for one of the longer creations (around twenty minutes). There, he started his own solo improvisation, playing both a guitar that rested on his lap and the piano, often at the same time, with his right hand generally on the keyboard and his left on the guitar neck. He began a story as he played, telling the legend of a lake, a forest, and a creature living peacefully there until the invasion of it by those less peaceful. As the story developed, his playing evoked that lake through streaming figurations on his two instruments as well as piano glissandi. Mystical effects of a forest were created in the combination of piano and guitar, with Ms. Brody’s voice joining as the drama unfolded. In the end, the music resolved into peace, as the creature taught the invaders about love. The final message was that “the power of love” wins over “the love of power” – though one couldn’t help thinking that, in Mr. Jordan’s music therapy context, such a story could represent any triumph of positive over negative – including in health. Geared towards a more “lay” audience, it was the kind of music that could be vital in outreach efforts. The improvisation as a whole worked well, leaving this listener with just only one main reservation, that the amplification used made Ms. Brody’s voice simply too loud at times, sometimes reaching a painful level. She is a singer who needs very little help!

On the lighter side, the duo included a Romanian drinking song, and they performed it with just the right bacchanalian boisterousness. Ms. Brody encouraged any Romanians in the audience to join in. Some did, also clapping rhythms – after which the audience gave a hearty round of applause.  The duo also included some clever improvisation based on a name suggestion from the audience – in this case, “Monica” – which became the springboard. It was enjoyed by all.

Towards the concert’s end, we heard Al Jarreau’s “Better Than Anything” (1977) moving almost seamlessly into Bernstein and Sondheim’s “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story (1957), a brilliant pairing with their certain motivic kinship. Ms. Brody quipped that they included these to show they could read music, though there was little doubt of that. An encore of Bach’s Air on the G String followed, recast with jazz elaborations by Mr. Jordan and Ms. Brody’s addition of words from Kahlil Gibran’s “On Love” from The Prophet. It was a moving close to an amazing night.

In addition to hearing these performers’ more practiced efforts (many on YouTube), the reader may want to check out Ms. Brody’s recent CD, a recording this reviewer has yet to hear (Teodora Brody- Rhapsody CD).  Given the huge range of this musician, there is absolutely NO guarantee that it resembles anything heard at Carnegie, but that is where the adventure lies!

Louis Pelosi, composer

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

Merkin Hall at Kaufman Center, New York, NY

October 20, 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chen Liang, pianist

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

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

KNS Classical A/160

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scandinavia House, New York, NY

October 17, 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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