Shiqi Zhong, percussion

YoonJung Hwang, violin; Qianci Liu, cello; Jiacheng Xiong, piano; Jonathan Haas, timpani/percussion; Kelsey Choi, percussion

New York University, John H. Paulson Center, New York, NY

December 18, 2025

On December 18^th, Shiqi Zhong gave what was his third recital towards the completion of a DMA degree in percussion at New York University. Mr. Zhong is the first DMA candidate in the newly created doctoral program for percussionists. The sole work on his program was the Viktor Derevianko/Mark Pekarsky arrangement of Dmitri Shostakovich’s 15^th Symphony for piano trio, percussion, and celeste, which is obviously not a percussion-centric work, so one assumes that this recital is to meet a chamber/ensemble requirement. Mr. Zhong was joined by violinist YoonJung Hwang , cellist Qianci Liu, pianist Jiacheng Xiong, and percussionists Jonathan Haas and Kelsey Choi .

Mr. Zhong welcomed the audience and thanked them for attending. Before the recital proper, there was some pre-recital “bonus” content – a pipa/piano piece and a presentation of handpan drumming, featuring Mr. Zhong with some of his young students. The Handpan is a steel drum that resembles a large tortoise shell. It has both melodic and rhythmic qualities, which Mr. Zhong demonstrated. He is currently writing a method book for handpan, and two studies that he wrote were offered – the first highlighting the melodic possibilities, and the second, the rhythmic with a focus on hand independence. It was nice to see how much pride Mr. Zhong has in his young students. Of course he is an outstanding musician, but one has the sense that he is also an outstanding teacher who wants to share his love and enthusiasm for music and percussion with his students, regardless of their level of prowess.

After this demonstration,  Mr. Zhong invited his advisor/mentor Jonathan Haas to speak as the other musicians took their places in preparation for the Shostakovich. Professor Haas spoke about Shostakovich and this arrangement of the 15^th Symphony in a manner intended to be a very quick overview of his life and trials. (He had written some informative notes that were included in some pre-concert publicity, but unfortunately those notes were not distributed at the recital.) He did take a few liberties – for example stating that Shostakovich’s first three symphonies had aroused Stalin’s ire, though in fact it had been the composer’s opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District that had caused such trouble. Also, Professor Haas suggested that a fear of Stalin figured into Shostakovich’s compositional mindset, whereas Stalin had been dead for nearly two decades when Shostakovich wrote this symphony, so such fear was unlikely.

Like many of Shostakovich’s works, the 15^th Symphony has definite autobiographical underpinnings, but what exactly they are in this work have been, and continue to be, debated by experts. A plausible explanation suggests that the composer knew that this was going to be his final symphony, and that he shared memories of his life, from childhood to his final days, when the end was imminent. There are quotes from other composers, the most obvious being Rossini’s William Tell overture, which appear throughout the work.

In an earlier review in these pages ( Shiqi Zhong  in Review), Mr. Zhong was the focal point, showcasing his “seemingly limitless technical abilities.” Tonight, he was tasked with a supporting rather than starring role. In this context, it is not easy to offer any specific praise, other than he was an attentive and sensitive team player, moving seamlessly between the components of the percussion battery. His collaborators were all top-notch musicians as well, and the combination of their skill and the very effective arrangement of this symphony resulted in one of the more memorable concerts this reviewer has experienced in some time. There were of course some individual highlights. Violinist YoonJung Hwang captured the gallop-like motifs with a jaunty insouciance that was perfect. Cellist Qianci Liu’s purity of tone brought out the emotional impact of the simple but profoundly beautiful solos from the second movement. Pianist Jiacheng Xiong was a force as he served as the de facto “orchestra”.  Last, but certainly not least, percussionists Kelsey Choi and Jonathan Haas joined Mr. Zhong as the “heart” of the work.  The forty-five minute performance time seemed to pass in a few moments – this is how spellbinding it was. And yes, the audience members were all smiles when the William Tell quotes appeared in the opening movement. Kudos to all, and best of luck to the soon-to-be Dr. Zhong in all his future endeavors.

by Jeffrey Williams  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Yoon Jin Park, cello

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

December 6, 2025

On a breezy Saturday evening in New York City, the Spanish based Sociedad de Compañerismo de Compositores (The Composers’ Fellowship Society) presented the world premiere of Ross Avant’s monumental new work for solo cello, the Suite No. 2 titled Venient Tenebrae (which translates to “Let the Darkness Come”). Initially I was surprised that the entire concert was to consist of only one piece, but the fifty-minute performance time of this work soon made me understand that the performance would feel anything but short. 

The master of ceremonies for the evening was Jeanette Hoelscher, who introduced herself as a New York-based actress and model. She was a lovely presence, wearing a very high cut dress, and she brought elegance and a breath of fresh air (no pun intended) to the event; however, I couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the services of a classically trained musician would have better served the purpose of this concert, especially during the post-performance talk (with the composer and the performer). Ms. Hoelscher was obviously well prepared and asked pertinent and sometimes interesting questions, but since this was a new work, reaching the audience’s ears for the very first time, it would have helped to have a moderator who could dive deeper into more specific questions about the motivations, goals and inspirations which led the composer to write this unusual (at least for our times) piece of music.

When using the title “cello suite,” one inevitably thinks of Bach and the legacy he left with his extraordinary works in this genre. Even if the musical language is very different, I did feel that Ross Avant was somewhat paraphrasing (or at least paying homage?) to his famous predecessor. Mr. Avant’s work also comes in six movements, which is the established form used by Bach. Both composers use the specifics of the instrument in order to convey a wide range of emotions, from the intimate to the cathartic. Bach looks at traditional dances (such as Allemande, Courante, Sarabande) as inspiration and heartbeat for each movement, and perhaps because of this he achieves great diversity (both in tempo and expression) from one movement to another. In Mr. Avant’s work, the first five movements sounded too similar, almost to the point where I had trouble deciding whether we were still listening to one movement, or have graduated to the next. Only in the last movement did the composer really stir up more contrasting material (an entire pizzicato section, some syncopated melodies) which brought a much needed climax to an otherwise meandering opus. As I was listening to the former movements, I wondered if they had titles, or at least some suggestion as to what inspired them- sadly, the programs were not ready in time for the event, and nobody who was present had the benefit of knowing anything about the piece which was being performed. The answer – which I found later on – is that no, there are no titles for the movements. When I was eventually provided with the missing playbill, I read that Mr. Avant wrote the suite as an homage to the German-Jewish philosopher, critic and essayist Walter Benjamin, who tragically committed suicide in order to avoid being sent to a concentration camp. Mr. Avant’s intent is to evoke not only Benjamin’s memory, but also that of countless victims of the Holocaust and other authoritarian atrocities perpetrated during the Second World War.

As such, the piece is important and undoubtedly deserves to be heard. It is also very refreshing to hear a fifty-minute work for solo cello, crafted with passion and minute care for details, especially in an era obsessed with two-minute Instagram videos, instant gratification, and shorter and shorter attention spans. Ross Avant works here against the current, and that is not only commendable but also encouraging-  perhaps, after all, classical music, and its most traditional forms,  can still provide a thoroughly stimulating and enjoyable experience, without any gimmick. Mr. Avant, who apparently dabbles successfully into many different genres (movie and TV soundtracks, pop tunes) is perhaps an ideal link between the old and the new, bringing to the classical parameters a bit of 21st century salt and pepper. His writing is atmospheric, evocative and I would describe it as faux-melodic in the sense that one can hear many beautifully shaped lines which are, however, impossible to reproduce with the voice or even to remember them exactly after they brushed against your ears. I felt at times that this music might work better as an accompaniment for a beautifully shot sunset in an art house movie than as a stand-alone, listen-with-your-eyes-closed musical journey, but perhaps this is a (small) price to pay for bringing a less savvy audience into the concert hall. 

In the program notes (which I could only read the day after the concert), it is said that the Suite is a “meditation on finality, sacrifice, and the power of resilience.” These are very big words, and listening to the piece as it was performed on Saturday night I would not say that they all came to my mind. Perhaps the cellist, Yoon Jin Park, would need more time to explore the depth and meaning of this complex and ambitious work. Ms. Park is a wonderful performer who plays with grace and a lovely genuineness, making even the most technically awkward passages sound organic and natural. Considering the sheer length of the work, her accomplishment is exceptional and her commitment truly inspiring. I did feel, however, that she was almost avoiding big contrasts as if not to disturb a delicate balance, embedded somewhere in the DNA of the piece. I’m not sure this approach is consistent with the feelings of finality, sacrifice and strength; I dare suggest that a larger spectrum of colors, moods and dynamic changes would help the music seem fresher and even more exciting. Still, there was much to admire in the performance, and in the work itself; towards the end of the fifth movement, the young couple sitting directly ahead of me touched their heads and embraced with sweet affection. What more can we ask from a piece of music, then to bring out the love within us and allow us a moment to savor it?

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

The New York Philharmonic; Stéphane Denève, conductor

Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano

David Geffen Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

November 26, 2025

David Geffen Hall was filled to capacity on the eve of this Thanksgiving by listeners eager to hear – among other enticements – the New York Philharmonic with superb pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet under the baton of the dynamic Stéphane Denève. For this reviewer, it was one of their most striking, brilliantly played programs in recent memory. Combining music of Aram Khatchaturian – his Piano Concerto Op. 38 – with music of Lera Auerbach, Einojuhani Rautavaara, and Ottorino Respighi, the program itself was inspired, uniting a vast range of mythological, historical, natural, and emotional themes, all building to a powerful and uplifting finale.

Maestro Denève proved to be an intensely musical leader, showing a strong rapport with the orchestra and easy communication with the audience. He drew his listeners in by commenting on the works from the podium – though there were generally good printed program notes as well. To start, he remarked before the opening Auerbach piece that this program could have been named “The Augmented Orchestra” concert, as the scoring of each work extended well beyond traditional orchestral instrumentation. He briefly explained, while also crediting the instruments’ guest performers, who had been omitted from the printed program.

Starting with Lera Auerbach’s Icarus, Denève cited its remarkable inclusion of the theremin.  For those unfamiliar with the sound of this instrument, he asked for a demonstration from guest thereminist Rob Schwimmer (who chose to riff on an excerpt from the main theme of the television show Star Trek – to the delight of the audience). In addition, Denève noted, there would be Khatchaturian’s use of the musical saw, to be played by Dale Stuckenbruck in the Piano Concerto, Op. 38, with Jean-Yves Thibaudet. After intermission would be two works that incorporated bird songs into orchestral textures via recording, first in Rautavaara’s Cantus Arcticus, Concerto for Birds and Orchestra, using a recording created by the composer in 1972, and then in Respighi’s Pines of Rome, using bird sounds recorded decades earlier on a 78 recording (the exact one specified by Respighi to be used in the New York premiere under Toscanini in 1926). An imposing 1909 phonograph behind the winds had been lent to the New York Philharmonic for this occasion. It was just one way in which this entire concert wedded a rich musical history with the exhilaration of the new.

While such unusual scorings were certainly exciting to highlight for all present, the true excitement followed, thanks to the composers’ vivid conceptions and the performers’  impassioned commitment. The opening Icarus by Lera Auerbach evoked the ill-fated flight of the mythical character Icarus as he dared come too close to the sun. The work is based on material from her 2006 Symphony No. 1, premiered in its current version in 2011 at Verbier, and given its New York premiere at this concert. Though the program notes stated that Ms. Auerbach chose the title after the piece was composed, anyone present at this concert would now surely link the music inextricably with Icarus. One felt his initial urgency to escape earthly imprisonment, the chimeric rise, the ecstatic soaring, and even perhaps the melting of his wax wings in theremin waves near the final tragic plummet to earth. As Ms. Auerbach stated in her notes, “Sometimes I think that it is the law of gravity that truly defines our existence.”  This twelve-minute work conveyed that sense, and all that comes with it, from courage in the face of the unknown to glorious aspirations and hubris, from the inevitable fall to the reflections on both beauty and pain. It was a powerful experience, and Ms. Auerbach was present to take a well-deserved bow.

Though the Khatchaturian Piano Concerto (1936) is not a new work for the New York Philharmonic (having given its New York premiere in 1942 following its 1937 Moscow premiere), it enjoyed at this concert a long-overdue revisiting in the hands of the brilliant Jean-Yves Thibaudet. Maestro Denève announced Mr. Thibaudet as “the most American of the French pianists” (again to the delight of the audience) – but one wasn’t sure whether that was a reference to Mr. Thibaudet’s playing style or a certain wardrobe flair that brought to mind Hollywood (not far from where he is artist-in-residence at the Colburn School). His playing itself was free of sheer display, as he simply made short work of the tremendously challenging score, handling fiendish sections with suavity. Whether rapid-fire double notes, octaves or whiplash-inducing ritards after accelerandi – all in remarkable synchronization with the orchestra – Mr. Thibaudet was precise and indefatigable. The second movement was memorable for its bass clarinet lines, soulfully projected, and Mr. Stuckenbruck’s musical saw lent it all an otherworldly feeling. As the program notes reminded us, this work and others were “not instruments of musical propaganda” despite coming out of the early Soviet years, but Khatchaturian meant them as celebrations of Armenian culture.  Just two years ago, in fact, another outstanding performance of this concerto was reviewed by New York Concert Review, as passionate Armenian pianist Kariné Poghosyan performed it with the MidAtlantic Philharmonic Orchestra in honor of Armenian Independence Day. The New York Philharmonic’s last performance of it for some reason dates back to 1961, but after the tremendous response from this week’s audience, one doubts there will be another sixty-year hiatus. Mr. Thibaudet responded to the huge ovation with an encore of O polichinelo from Prole do bebê by Villa-Lobos, played with panache.

After intermission came Einojuhani Rautavaara’s Cantus Arcticus, Concerto for Birds and Orchestra, Op. 61 (1972), a favorite of this reviewer for over twenty years on the basis of a recording by the Royal Scottish National Orchestra (RSNO, Naxos 1999). It is hard to believe that this evening marked the New York Philharmonic’s first programming of it, but the magnificent performance it was given on this occasion will surely keep planners from waiting another half-century to include it again.

From its chromatic flute lines at the opening to the wind-like whistling and deep chant-like basses, the piece evokes a vast frigid landscape that is raw and melancholy as well as miraculous. The bird sounds are about as far as they can get from the Romantic sentimentalizing of, say, Henselt’s If I Were a Bird – these are birds that cry, wail, squawk, warble, and merge into a unified texture that inspires an awe of nature. When the audience can unite in recognition of such a landscape, the experience can be potent and life-affirming, and it was. Maestro Stéphane Denève gave his all to it, and the orchestra gave theirs.

Just when one thought nothing further could add to the evening, Respighi’s Pines of Rome (1923-24) capped off the program with its own its magic. The Pines of the Villa Borghese was jubilant and shimmering. The Pines near a Catacomb was doleful, yet regal, bolstered by the exceptional brass section. The Pines of the Janiculum found the sparkling piano part setting the tone for a moonlit night, and the clarinets were sublime in their lines – rivaled perhaps only by nature’s own “winds” – the birds via phonograph. Not far after the last heavenly strains of the harp in this third movement, one of the most glorious crescendos of music begins in The Pines of the Appian Way – and how glorious it was in this orchestra’s rendition!Trumpets emerged in the upper boxes drawing looks of wonder from the audience, as the other brass, percussion, and strings built to a majesty that simply exploded. What a great finale to a great evening!

There are still two performances left at the time of this writing – so I do urge music lovers to run, not walk, and hear one!

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

November 13, 2025

Emily White: Good afternoon. I’m Emily White, and I’m here with one of the most inspiring pianists on the Hungarian—and international!—music scenes, the acclaimed artist János Balázs. Professor Balázs, should I call you János?

János Balázs: Yes.

EW: János has just given a fascinating program at Weill Recital Hall in honor of the legendary virtuoso György Cziffra (1921–1994), who was a great-grandpupil of Franz Liszt. So, János, I understand that you had an early start to your career—you were accepted to study at the Special School of the Franz Liszt Academy in Budapest at the age of thirteen. Could you talk a little bit about your early teachers and how you were taught?

JB: Yes, it was a great time. You know, my father is a pianist, but he’s not a classical pianist. He’s a jazz and bar pianist. When I was a child, I heard a lot of music at my home, and I just know that the music is something magical and it’s very good to play together. Of course, there always was a piano at our flat. But my father’s music was not the very first touch for me at the piano. The first time it was after I heard the recording of Cziffra’s Hungarian Rhapsodies. It was not on LP, it was on 78, and it was so magical. When I was three or four years old, I heard it and I just went to the piano. I remember the first melody I would like to try. It was the Second Rhapsody’s theme, “Da-da, puh, pum,” you know? It was a lot of hours a day, like a game for me, a lovely game. My father’s father played together with György Cziffra, but not on the stage! They played in a bar, because Cziffra was a bar pianist in Budapest, a few years before he went to Paris, and my grandfather was a cellist. This recording of the Hungarian Rhapsodies was a souvenir from György Cziffra for my grandfather. When I was three, I started to play a lot of classical improvisation, and when I was six, I started at the music school. I remember, I played the Beethoven “Pathétique” Sonata without a score, just by ear like a Beethoven fantasy. And my first teacher, Erika Becht, said, “Oh, my God, it’s like genius, and it’s so BAD.” Because I cannot read a score but I can play a lot of hours of music. She was an angel. She was the first who gave me a lot of inspiration by the score. She said, “János, let’s check, maybe Beethoven wrote something better than you can even imagine.”  So that was the first. I won a national competition when I was eight, in Nyíregyháza, and when I was thirteen, I started my study at the Liszt Academy Special Talent Groups. The Liszt Academy is one of the most important of the world, because of Franz Liszt. Bartók and Kodály and Cziffra and Fischer and all of the Hungarian artists, they were in the same building. My teacher through the graduate diploma, Kálmán Drafi, was a great master of the piano, and he was a pupil of György Cziffra at Senlis, near Paris, for three years. I went to a lot of competitions, not the most important, but in Hungary we have the International Liszt Competition and I won first prize, and I won first prize in the György Cziffra Competition, very important for me because he was my idol. This was better than winning a Chopin competition or the Rubinstein competition—I know that they are more prestigious—but for me, Cziffra was the highest level. I don’t know your opinion, but generally I don’t like competitions.

EW: You mentioned studying without reading. When did you start really reading the music?

JB: Around eight or nine. I could play hours of classical music from my fantasy. I played Rigoletto Paraphrase, Rachmaninoff concertos, like little transcriptions, melodies with chords. I like improvising, so in my Carnegie concert, there was a part where I played improvisations on Hungarian folk songs, in classical style, not jazz, like Liszt or Chopin. There were a lot of possibilities for improvisation onstage.

EW: In the United States, there are some teachers now who like to give a famous song or symphony theme to children so it inspires them, and there are others who think this is not original piano music and you should avoid that because it’s not something you could play in a competition.

JB: I think it’s very important to know the music without the score, to know general music. For me, the music is in my mind and I can think about the music’s language. If I read the score, after, I just realize it, and I start to play by heart. My mind is able to search harmonies for the melodies without dissonance.

EW: You feel that the printed score is just a pathway to what’s already in your ear.

JB: That’s it, yes. So now I play 39 piano concertos.

EW: That’s a lot.

JB: By heart, without score. And I’m not a genius, but I started very early to know music, and for me, with a new piece, I never start with the notes. Because I know the structure and the harmony, I feel it.

EW: Do you find as you get deeper into the score, looking at it, that your previous interpretation changes and evolves, or do you find that the printed music reinforces what you had in your mind all along?

JB: A very good question. First is the score, but sometimes before you see the score, you listen to somebody, Horowitz, Richter, and you have an idea, I would like to learn this piece because Horowitz does it like this. But when you take the score to the piano, you give it a totally other character. And I start to search, but it’s a never-ending story. I learned the Fountains of the Villa D’Este when I was eleven or twelve, and almost all of my concerts have a generally other feeling. Because the piano is other, the acoustic is other—I don’t mean that I play different notes, but I feel other emotions, and I would like to make something different from what the public expects.

EW: So does your interpretation change when you play on different occasions?

JB: Yes. And sometimes I change on the stage. Because I was never shy. 90% of it is worked out, but about 10% is in the performance.

EW: You want to be spontaneous.

JB: Absolutely. But of course this means that before it, I must know the piece 150%. If you’re nervous, you can’t feel the ideas. You have to be at the best technical level with the piece, to make some joy. It’s not easy, and sometimes I feel too much. I really love the pieces I play, and you know, I was onstage at Carnegie, and then I had to make choices very quickly, because there’s no time for philosophy: which is the best way to play it? But this game gives me extra energy onstage.

EW: Let’s talk more about Cziffra. He was nicknamed the pianist with fifty fingers! I know he came from a Romani (Gypsy) background and he studied with Ernst von Dohnányi at the Liszt Academy until 1941, when he was conscripted into the army during World War Two, and he was captured by the Russians and held as a prisoner of war. Are there aspects of Cziffra’s life that you try to bring out?

JB: He was a hero. He never lost motivation for music even though his life was a tragedy. There were a lot of deep problems, especially from his childhood. He had a very poor family, he had health problems, and there was the First World War, the Second World War, the Revolution in Hungary in 1956, he was in jail and had to work . . .

EW: He was in a labor camp and was forced to carry 130 pounds of concrete up six flights of stairs and his wrist was damaged. He wore a leather band on his wrist. Could he play after that?

JB: He never gave up. The most important was to make music on the stage. It’s incredible motivation. It was very easy for him to play in a bar because he was a star with a lot of money. He was rich but he felt that it’s not enough to play in a bar with everybody eating and smoking cigars, it’s not the real way. But after he left, he started to play classical music in Budapest, and after the revolution everybody knows his career and it was incredible. ’56 was the revolution, he left Hungary, and in ’57 he played in Carnegie Hall with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

EW: What did he play in that concert?

JB: The Liszt First Concerto and Hungarian Fantasy.

EW: [The date of the concert was November 1, 1958, YouTube link https://youtu.be/HJ_Ajv-rZp0]

EW: He founded a music festival and a competition in France. Have you visited those places?

JB: Yes. When he was on the top, he bought a chapelle, a church in a bad situation because it was a garage, and he made the renovations. He invested all of his money and all of his efforts in young talents. And you know his son was a great conductor and they worked together, they made a lot of recordings. But the fire accident . . .

EW: Right, a tragedy.

JB: His son died. It was the highest tragedy. And after that he stopped playing and just gave master classes.

EW: 2021 was his 100^th anniversary. What did you do for memorial events?

JB: 2016 was the first György Cziffra Festival in Budapest. Before that, when I was sixteen, I started to care for his legacy with a concert “in memory of György Cziffra,” student concerts at the Liszt Academy. They kept getting bigger audiences, and I thought this is a good time. I started in 2016 with five concerts, and it was like a shock, a bomb. All the concerts were more than standing ovation. Everybody felt that Cziffra came back to Hungary. He died in 1994, so many years before. My wife is the director of the festival, and I am the artistic director, but now we have a bigger team. We felt we must continue. For the hundredth anniversary we opened to an international level. We went to France, to Rome, Brussels, Geneva, more than a hundred concerts on the series in 2021. That’s why I played the concert in Carnegie Hall a few days ago. We are on the way. It’s the biggest honor for my festival.

EW: So you’re still riding this big wave.

JB: You know the conductor Péter Eötvös, he wrote for me a piano concerto dedicated to Cziffra, and the name was “Cziff-Rhapsody” [Cziffra Psodia, 2020], a funny name, and we played with the greatest orchestras. The last time we played it was with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in London.

EW: He isn’t alive anymore, Péter Eötvös.

JB: He died about two years ago. All of the concerts we played together, he was the conductor. But also, we have more than concerts, we have support programs for young artists. We spend a lot of energy and money, we have a lot of scholarships and prizes, we have master classes, and everybody is free. Talented musicians have talent but no money, so we have to help them with the skill of the artistic level and the greatest teachers, the greatest artists. I think in the next concert, I have an invitation for next November at Carnegie Hall, and I will play with my students.

EW: Do the master classes take place in Hungary or in different countries?

JB: Yes, in Hungary and in different countries. When I travel for a concert, usually I give a master class.

EW: I’m sure there are pianists who would try to get involved.

JB: They need it. I listen to a lot of Romantic music, especially Liszt, and they play very well but not “with spice.”

EW: How did you come to meet Péter Eötvös?

JB: In Hungary we knew each other, and I started a conversation with him, and I asked if he would like to write a piano concerto for Cziffra. He said, “Oh, what an idea! Please give me a week.” And he called me back and said, “Okay, I have the main melody.” The letters of Cziffra: C, C# [Z=Cis], F, F, Re, A. And the tempo, the metronome is 100, for the anniversary.

EW: Cool.

JB: And he wrote for cimbalom in the orchestra, because Cziffra’s father was a cimbalist.

EW: Like a dulcimer with hammers. That’s kind of a café instrument, isn’t it?

JB: Gypsy instrument in a café or a bar, it’s very Hungarian. The concerto has a lot of cadenzas and Gypsy rhythms, and we play together, piano and cimbalom, and improvisation at times.

EW: I wanted to talk about this prize. In 2019, at age 31, you were named the youngest winner of the Kossuth Prize. For people who don’t know, it was created in honor of the statesman and Prime Minister Lajos Kossuth, in 1948 on the centennial of the Revolution of 1848. It’s for artists, scientists, and musicians, and I’m sure everyone knows some of the musical recipients: Zoltán Kodály (1948, the first winner), Annie Fischer (1949 and other years), Zoltán Kocsis (1978), as well as András Schiff, György Ligeti, and Ernst von Dohnányi, who died in 1960 but was awarded posthumously in 1990. How did you become associated with this historic list of honorees?

JB: This prize in Hungary is like the Oscar, or the Nobel Prize. Usually, the jury and the Prime Minister think about it, I’m sorry to say, before you die, not like 31. I think there were two reasons: the first is that I’m so active in Hungary and I spend all of my energy on the music for Hungary and open to the world. The second, I think, is because of my high level of piano playing and the care of the György Cziffra heritage.

EW: There should be more international exchange than there is right now, because we don’t really know about each other. The cultures are very distinct, and there are amazing people who could learn a lot.

JB: We have a lot of cultural connections, and we like freedom. You know, more than ten years ago, I went to the Aspen Music Festival. And I learned the most from Yoheved Kaplinsky. It was magic for me because it was a totally other style, and I won the “house” music competition at Aspen with the Rachmaninoff Paganini Rhapsody. Before I arrived, I was not ready with this concerto, and I learned it with Veda, and she was great. I realized, we start from another position, and we all want to arrive at the same position.

EW: You make student contacts at festivals for your whole life. You were at Aspen in what year?

JB: I think 2010.

EW: You have a very broad-ranging repertoire, like Manuel Ponce.

JB: Ponce is my favorite. I learned this melody [Estrellita] listening to Jascha Heifetz, and I really wanted to make a transcription. I also love Lauretta’s aria [“O mio babbino caro,” from Gianni Schicchi] by Puccini, and a very funny transcription of Happy Birthday in styles by Mozart, Beethoven, Gershwin, and Liszt. It was my encore at Carnegie. I am not a composer, maybe in the future, but I just like to show my imagination in the music.

EW: I see that you learned all the works of Chopin? You were honored by Poland for your dedication to Chopin. How did it start?

JB: Because when I started to learn his pieces, it was never enough. And I learned the next and the next. For me it’s never a problem to learn the music without scores. Generally, I play it twice or three times and I can play from memory.

EW: What were the first pieces and what were the ones you saved for later?

JB: The first piece was the Nocturne, opus 9, number 2. I played for a series sixteen concerts in Hungary and I played all of his pieces. I played the chamber music and concertos, everything.

EW: Oh, my gosh.

JB: The sensibility, the intimate sound of Chopin is very important.

EW: What did you learn last?

JB: The last was the C-minor Sonata.

EW: With the 5/4. People don’t play it, but it’s very effective. Now some people say that pianists are better either at playing Chopin or playing Liszt, but you seem to be at home with both composers. Do you feel an affinity for one or the other?

JB: I think, when you play Chopin, you have to play like Liszt, and Liszt you have to play like Chopin. If you play Chopin and it’s too intimate, too pianissimo, too shy, it’s not the best, but if you play Liszt and you kill the piano, it’s also wrong. It’s good to know the Liszt pieces and the Chopin pieces and you can make a conversation between the two composers. They were very good friends. After Chopin died, Liszt wrote a book about him.

EW: Do you feel that certain kinds of instrumental sounds are better for conveying your vision of Liszt, or a specific technological setup is better for Chopin?

JB: Usually, I play on a Steinway. In Hungary, we have a new early music center with very historic old pianos, and I was there to check the Erard piano from Liszt’s era. It was a totally other sound.

EW: There’s a Historical Piano Study Center in Ashburnham, Massachusetts if you ever have time to go there. It’s hard to keep an Erard piano in shape, but it gives you a different aura of the music.

JB: Very important is what you feel inside, to play because you would like to give something of yourself. I play the Steinway more like the historical pedal system. Sometimes I like to make some noise, not always clear with the pedal. In the Chopin Ballades, you might have three chords in one beat, but if you change the pedal, it’s too much like a motor. You have to feel the chords together, in a Romantic style, and also what you hear is not what the public hears.

EW: The pedal on Chopin’s Broadwood piano in London never smeared sounds the way the pedal does now. Do you think that Chopin and Liszt were influenced by organ pedals?

JB: I’m sure. Liszt loved church music, and Chopin idolized Bach and always played the Well-Tempered Clavier.

EW: There are all sorts of ways to give that feeling of mysticism.

JB: I’m so happy to have composers close to me but I have not enough time to make their music the best way. You have to choose how to find the polyphony and the melodies without playing too hard.

EW: Do you like to study the musicology about Liszt or read Alan Walker’s books? Alan Walker was given an honorary doctorate by the Liszt Academy just this year.

JB: Yes, I know. I always like to read about the lives of the composers, a lot of sad stories.

EW: He had a scary book about the death of Liszt. Were you also drawn to Bartók? Did he pull on your heartstrings?

JB: I like the recordings, but not all his pieces are close to me. For me, the top pianist is—I don’t know—Vladimir Horowitz, Richter, Martha Argerich in our era. She is the best. Sometimes even better at her age than before! I asked her, “Martha, how can you be better now than when you were twenty or thirty years old?” And she said, “I practice now.”

EW: I noticed on November 20^th you’re already giving a recital back in Budapest at the Bartók National Concert Hall. You like to go around from one place to the other.

JB: I’ve done it for twenty years.

EW: Well, János, thank you for a great conversation, and I hope we can keep in touch!

JB: I loved this conversation.

by Emily White  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

János Balázs, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 9, 2025

How do we pay homage to our idols? How do we trace our inspirations and, once we acknowledged them openly, how do we avoid being compared (probably less favorably) to those who we admire so passionately? On November 9^th at Weill Hall, the Hungarian pianist János Balázs (who is the Artistic Director of the Cziffra Festival, the co-presenter of the event, together with the Liszt Institute in New York) tackled this difficult task. For his Carnegie Hall debut, he constructed a program meant to celebrate the great Hungarian pianist György Cziffra, who was apparently the reason why young János became fascinated with the piano, and especially with the fiery Romantic repertoire in which his illustrious predecessor shone. 

Mr. Balázs’ name is tightly connected with that of Cziffra; he not only won a couple of Cziffra competitions in Europe, but also created a Festival in his name and is a tireless promoter of his artistic legacy. In other words, he does the good work. He also speaks lovingly about his role model, inspiring the listener to seek out older recordings of the great master, something which is touching and relatively rare in today’s world where the “me” culture is taking over more and more aggressively. He is also a good speaker- considering that there was no printed program and no intermission during the performance, it would have been easy for the less savvy audience members to get lost in the intricacies of the program, but Mr. Balázs offered charming and informative “notes” before every group of works, making the evening flow organically and avoiding lulls.

The selection of works included pieces famously performed by Cziffra, such as Liszt’s Dante Sonata and Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6; works which he adapted or arranged, such as the paraphrase on Strauss’s The Blue Danube; and also a few novelties by Hungarian composers Peter Eötvös, László Dubrovay and by Mr. Balázs himself, who treated his very appreciative audience to an improvisation on Hungarian folk tunes. In the latter selections, the young pianist proved to be a genial, humorous and slightly cheeky performer/improviser. The two miniatures, one by Eötvös (Dances of the Brush-Footed Butterfly, full of imagery and character), and the second by Dubrovay (Swallow Songs, a very short and winged musical afterthought) were especially welcome additions to the otherwise heavily Romantic entries.

In these Romantic masterpieces, János Balázs had the opportunity to emulate his famous fellow Hungarian, but to my ears the attempt was not very successful. Cziffra was, by all accounts, an enfant terrible of the keyboard, with a monster technique that allowed him to attack some pieces at supersonic speed, which often led to criticism by the more conservative critics. He was, however, an artist of supreme musicality, who paid great attention to detail and delivered each performance with absolute grace. In contrast, Mr. Balázs seemed to me a forceful performer, concerned more with physical power than spirituality. Where Cziffra demonstrated agility in service to the music, Mr. Balázs demonstrated – musically speaking – an approach that has some majesty but stresses athleticism. His interpretation of Chopin’s Ballade No. 3 lacked the poetic fluidity which is one of this piece’s elusive challenges; the pianist often produced a warm, singing tone but suffered from stiff phrasing and an almost militaristic feel. In Liszt’s Les Jeux d’eau à la Villa d’Este the lowest dynamic was somewhere in the mp vicinity, which is unfortunate when one has the advantage of performing in a hall with such superb acoustics as Weill. Cziffra’s paraphrase on Strauss’s The Blue Danube (slightly embellished by Mr. Balázs’ own contributions) was given an interpretation that felt harsh and needed more finesse. In Isolde’s Liebestod (a famous Liszt transcription after Wagner) the notes were there, but the meaning between them remained opaque; the most transcendental moments sounded like exercises in polyphony, and the grand climax was, again, a beastly fff. In Liszt’s Dante Sonata the demonic quality was always placed in the foreground (complete with a facial frown), but it never really sounded ominous; the only truly frightening element was the volume itself. Last on the program, but not least in decibel levels, the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6 unfolded as a cascade of fast octaves leading to an apocalyptic finale, but all the opportunities to convey wit and nostalgia – as so often is the case with these virtuosic little poems – faded in the shadow of technical wonderment.

Such are, in the opinion of this reviewer, the challenges of linking one’s performance too closely to that of a legendary artist. Perhaps if Mr. Balázs had chosen a more personal selection, filled with more improvisations (to which he seems quite gifted) and a few more contemporary works (which he plays with vitality and a keen sense for contrasts), his incontestable gifts would have shone brighter; such as it was, in a repertoire very much associated with Cziffra, I regret to say that the younger pianist fell short of carrying the torch, so to speak. What I found disappointing is that he seemed to have misunderstood what made Cziffra really special- it wasn’t how many notes he could play per second (and admittedly he could play more than most pianists!), or how much power he released into the keys; it was the razor-sharp lucidity with which he penetrated each piece’s meaning, and the way he imbued every phrase with meaning and grace. János Balázs is undoubtedly a talented pianist who is capable of giving convincing and vivid interpretations. I’m just not sure that it is meant to happen in the same repertoire that Cziffra played.

by Matei Varga  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

House Concert, New York, NY

November 13, 2025

It may be rare for a reviewer to be asked to write up a concert in a private home (as opposed to one in a traditional concert hall), but “house concerts” have long been a way of sharing classical piano music, and they appear to be enjoying an increase in popularity. Nearly two hundred years ago, composer and pianist Frédéric Chopin was one example of a musician who preferred to share his music this way, in fact giving relatively few public performances in standard concert venues. (Such a fact seems hard for many to process, given the scope of the composer’s renown during his life and beyond, but it was the case.)  It thus seems rather appropriate that, for a recent house concert given by pianist Ivan Gusev, the works presented were by none other than Chopin.

Mr. Gusev is a native of Kazakhstan who, after relocating to Russia at age four, started piano studies at age six and went on to distinguish himself at the Moscow Conservatory, where he received Bachelor’s, Master’s and DMA degrees with highest honors, having studied with Mikhail Voskresensky and Eliso Virsaladze. He has received prizes in Italy (the Mauro Monopoli Prize International Piano Competition), Russia (the Benditsky Russian Piano Competition and the Third International Neuhaus Piano Competition), and here in the United States (the 3rd Gershwin International Music Competition, the Dorothy MacKenzie Artist Recognition Scholarship Award from the International Keyboard Institute and Festival, the Chopin International Piano Competition in Hartford, and the New York Piano Festival and Competition). He also completed a Master’s degree at Mannes with Jerome Rose. Mr. Gusev has been reviewed by New York Concert Review on several occasions, quite favorably by this reviewer in a Mannes concerto prizewinner’s concert in 2017 and in his solo debut at Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall in 2018.

In this evening of all Chopin, he played a program that was thoughtfully constructed, with the largest work and finale being the Sonata No. 3 in B minor. Leading up to it were two Ballades (No. 1 in G minor and No 2 in F major), two Nocturnes (Op. 48. No. 1 in C minor and the Op. 37, No. 2 in G major, the latter opening the second half before the sonata), the Waltz in A minor, Op. 34, No. 2, the Mazurka in B minor, Op. 33, No. 4, the Étude in C-sharp minor, Op. 10, No. 4, and the Scherzo No. 3 in C-sharp minor, Op. 39. All were arranged with care in regard to either key relationships, continuity, or contrast. Though the word “curate” sends many cringing from its overuse, there is definitely an art to curating a musical experience, and Mr. Gusev excels at it. The audience was rapt.

The Ballade in G minor opened the program, inviting us into a world in which Mr. Gusev is clearly comfortable. One had the sense that this pianist has lived inside this piece and knows and loves every corner of it. The only real glitch (aside from minor smudges in the coda) was a missing phrase on the opening page shortly following the pitter-patter of a family pet who decided to enter, crossing between the audience and the piano to curl up right near the piano (only to be removed after the piece concluded). Mr. Gusev continued the musical poetry without the slightest interruption.

While house concerts can be among the most memorable and intimate experiences of shared music, they can also bring the sorts of issues that concert halls largely eliminate – whether crying babies, delays, clinking wine glasses, or even a sense of obligation to socialize before playing. Thanks to Mr. Gusev’s considerate hosts, there seemed few of these here, though this listener wondered whether another concomitant of such concerts might have been affecting the sound – and that is the nagging compulsion an artist can feel to politely subdue the music’s greater storms for such a gemütlich environment. Often during Mr. Gusev’s excellent performances – and they were, as one has come to expect, marked by special sensitivity and care  – one had a sense that he was holding back in the more dramatic sections and that he could have projected more contrast. Mr. Gusev has on several occasions struck this reviewer as a special artist, closer in understated spirit to, say, Richard Goode than to the flashy firebrands who abound these days; still, he may need to watch the tendency to be so self-effacing that some drama is lost. Sometimes an actual concert stage offers not merely physical elevation but the kind of elevation that encourages a separation from the realm of the everyday.

The Ballade No. 2 which followed enjoyed a beautifully conceived opening. Where the piano tone did not always sustain fully in longer notes (possibly due to the instrument itself needing a bit of voicing work), the pianist’s own sense of line and pacing sustained the life of the phrases. The left-hand “E” in the final chord resounded prominently in a way that pointed up the continuity to the opening of the subsequent Waltz Op. 34 in A minor, and in this waltz the pianist cast a musical spell of sorts. The audience refrained from applause afterwards, as they did following the beguiling Mazurka in B minor, the noble C-minor Nocturne, and even the brilliant C-sharp minor Étude. This latter piece was given an impressive ride, with exceptionally dry pedal for extra clarity. The first half then closed with the Scherzo in C-sharp minor, which found the pianist reveling more in Chopin’s full range of emotions and sonorities.

After a brief intermission, Mr. Gusev played the Nocturne in G major, Op. 37, No. 2, one of the most deceptively difficult of the Nocturnes to hold together. It was a joy to hear this pianist’s silken double-notes, particularly as he eased them gracefully into the piece’s Barcarolle-type flow, rather than heralding their entry as one hears all too often. He put the music first – a quality one would think should be a fairly obvious prerequisite for performing, though it isn’t always the case. There were moments when one wondered about various readings or editions (once in the F Major Ballade just before the stormy A-minor entry, once in this Nocturne before the second theme, and later in the Sonata’s second movement, trio section), but these questions became almost negligible within the overall experience.

One could predict that such a thoughtful pianist would handle the large Sonata in B minor well, and he did just that, managing to hold the sprawling first movement together quite convincingly. The second movement had the right leggiero touch and the Largo movement was extremely moving. The last movement was particularly successful and carefully planned from its measured start to its more impassioned finish. While one felt that there was still more power to unleash, one holds out hope that Mr. Gusev will bring this program to a larger venue with a concert grand soon. He will undoubtedly have a growing number of connoisseurs to appreciate it.

Meanwhile this audience was visibly thrilled and offered a standing ovation. He kindly obliged with an encore of Chopin’s Mazurka Op. 68, No. 2 in A minor – played with grace.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Ian Hobson, piano

The Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

November 7, 2025

A finale that was truly grand concluded Ian Hobson’s long-running New York cycle of Schumann’s piano works this weekend, as he played to a full house at the Tenri Institute. The program consisted of Schumann’s Piano Sonata No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 11, and his Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6. The concert was entitled “Florestan and Eusebius” – after the names of Schumann’s famously contrasting alter egos – the former being a bold adventurer and the latter, a more introspective dreamer. It would not be difficult to include much of Schumann’s oeuvre in a program named for these two spirits, but the title did seem especially apt here, particularly for the Davidsbündlertänze, which in its first edition actually had each of the eighteen pieces ascribed to either Florestan or Eusebius – in a few cases both. The printed program for this evening included these ascriptions, a helpful guide to the unfamiliar listener, along with the excellent program notes (as usual) by Paul Griffiths.

In addition to all the helpful notes, Mr. Hobson spoke at the concert’s opening, to welcome the audience and to introduce the first piece, the Sonata, Op. 11. Especially illuminating were his mentions of the third movement sections – from scherzo to waltz, pompous polonaise, Bachian interlude, and back – and on to the last movement, which he rightly described as “discursive” with all its twists and turns.

Mr. Hobson’s playing showed the same overview, and he was a sure guide through all of Schumann’s wide-ranging explorations. He seemed quite comfortable through the sonata’s most unwieldy challenges. Naturally, he has always been a pianist of all-encompassing technique and repertoire, so his mastery is never a surprise, but it seemed that there was some increased comfort this time, compared to prior recitals at Tenri, possibly attributable to raising the piano lid by only an inch or two, as opposed to full-stick or half-stick. Mr. Hobson announced that, in response to the condition of the instrument and the acoustics, the lid would be raised only by a book – and at that, a volume of Schumann, much to the audience’s enjoyment. All seemed much more manageable with this setup. Incidentally, that volume of Schumann was not needed for actual reading, as all was played from memory.

A word is in order on memory. Too much may sometimes be made of memory, and many pianists feel exasperated after pouring heart and soul into a performance, only to hear from listeners, “how did you memorize all that?” – as if that were the focus, and of course it is not. That being said, having heard Mr. Hobson play from memory most of this cycle, including around 1,600 pages of solo music (not even counting the chamber music), this reviewer has to say that for such an achievement alone, our admiration is warranted.

The sheer act of memorizing the lifetime output of a composer is also bound to affect the performer’s – and audience’s – perspective, sometimes altering the balance between a work’s idiosyncrasies and the general architecture and momentum. Though this listener has not always been an advocate of complete cycles in concert, it became clear through this one that Mr. Hobson, whom one thinks of as a supremely organized player, had found a certain order to the world of a composer who sometimes seems to defy organization. Though his interpretations were different from many performances I’ve loved dearly, in which the performer has seemed actually to inhabit Schumann’s world, living (and suffering) through each mercurial moment, there was a wise overview here, as if one of Schumann’s stabler friends were relaying the composer’s thoughts and feelings. Clearly Mr. Hobson is “friends” with all of Schumann’s quirks and dreams, and he presented them with spirit, directness, and a superb control of line and texture. The Sonata in F-sharp minor held together more surely than it often does, and where the very rare but inevitable glitches or smudges arose, they were swept easily into the flow of the music.

The Davidsbündlertänze, Schumann in some of his most ebullient writing, came after intermission. The sequence of short pieces felt utterly natural – holding together just as Paul Griffiths so artfully framed Schumann’s goal, “as much by contrast as coherence.” They gleamed like the tesserae of a large mosaic. Most memorable ones included the seventh, which on the first repeat felt not at all like a mere reiteration, but a deepening. The ending of the eleventh, Einfach, was particularly poignant, and the twelfth, Mit Humor, had just the right rambunctiousness complete with whimsical – almost perfunctory – ending. The thirteenth, Wild und lustig (with both Florestan and Eusebius alternating) had the perfect feistiness alternating with a quiet nobility, and the seventeenth was sheer heaven (apart from a slightly rough ending).

There were a few surprising interpretive decisions, such as in the fourteenth (Zart und singend), where one usually encounters a slower tempo along with its feeling of intimacy, but here it moved right along. As is often the case with seasoned artists, one simply had to wait for the reasoning to become clear in retrospect. In this case, more time was taken in its second section, and it thus made sense not to pile lingering upon lingering.

If there were spots that one might want to redo for an immaculate recording, those would probably include moments in the eighth (which actually had exceptional humor), the ninth, and the thirteenth. The third, fifteenth, and sixteenth seemed at times to lack Mr. Hobson’s characteristic ease, but any extra effort seemed to be geared towards spotlighting certain accents and patterns.

All in all, this concert brought many new thoughts on the piano works of Schumann – as did the entire cycle – tying together various “loose ends” of Schumann’s musical life for this listener. It was an education, and that comes from a reviewer with decades of hearing and playing Schumann’s music. Bravo!

On the subject of education, one can only imagine what good fortune it would be to study with Mr. Hobson, who, if asked “what Schumann have you performed?” could honestly now respond, “all of it.”

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Internationally renowned violinist Zoltán Mága took the time recently to chat with New York Concert Review about his recent American tour. Mr. Mága has given concerts in nearly one hundred countries on five continents, playing for kings, heads of state, and church dignitaries. His materials state that he has played for President Donald Trump, Pope Benedict XVI, Prince (now King) Charles, Mohammed VI, the king of Morocco, and Konstantin II, the former king of Greece, as well as famous actors such as Robert de Niro and Salma Hayek, among other celebrities. He has performed with world-renowned musicians, including Didier Lockwood, Stéphane Grappelli, and Richard Clayderman, and has had countless television appearances, notably one from the Hungarian National Opera House that was enjoyed by viewers in 22 countries.

Rorianne Schrade (RS): Welcome Mr. Mága . We’ve read much about your illustrious career. Please tell us a bit more about yourself, how it all began, and what inspires you.

Zoltán Magá (ZM): I come from a dynasty of musicians — my father, my grandfather, and if we look back several centuries, every generation of my family has carried a deep love and respect for music. For us, music is not only a profession but also a heritage, a way of life, a spiritual calling.

I grew up in humble circumstances, but my parents did everything they could to ensure I lacked nothing essential for my musical development. We didn’t have money, but we had faith, love, and determination. My father was a musician, but he also took on physical labor to buy instruments, pay tuition, and provide me with opportunities he himself never had. My mother, quietly and selflessly, held our family together behind the scenes.

I began my journey in the Rajkó Orchestra, living in a dormitory, and as a child, I already understood that dreams must be fought for. While other children played, I practiced — until dawn, again and again. I knew I had to work twice as hard to get even halfway there. But I never saw it as a sacrifice, because for me, music was not just a vocation, but a refuge and a path.

I had no influential family behind me, no connections, no easy road — only my instrument, my diligence, and my faith. Yet I made it to the world’s most beautiful concert halls, royal palaces, and churches.

I believe that talent alone is not enough — it must be brought to life through hard work, humility, and perseverance. One’s origin, skin color, or social background should never be a barrier: the language of music speaks to everyone and connects us, no matter where we come from.

If my story gives strength to even one young person who is struggling today but still believes in themselves, then all the sweat, exhaustion, and sacrifice will have been worth it. Because for me, music has always been about this — the triumph of the human soul.

RS: We read that you’ve recently been in the United States on concert tour. We’d love to hear a summary of where you played, and anything you can share about what comes next on your concert schedule.

ZM: We embarked on a grand American tour with my orchestra, bringing the beauty of Hungarian music, the message of national unity, and the power of charity overseas. Our journey began in Washington, leading us through New York, Philadelphia, and Los Angeles, and concluding at the world-famous Carnegie Hall.

Our opening concert at the Kennedy Center in Washington was held in the spirit of Hungarian freedom, Christian values, and national pride, and was met with great international success. It was moving to see the audience rise to their feet in applause and to feel how music truly unites us Hungarians wherever we live in the world.

On October 23, the anniversary of the 1956 Revolution, we paid tribute to the heroes with our music at the Embassy of Hungary in Washington in the presence of Minister of Foreign Affairs Péter Szijjártó and numerous diplomats. We believe that the courage of the heroes of ’56 still teaches us today to preserve our faith, freedom, and national independence.

In New York, at the commemoration held at the United Nations in collaboration with the Consulate General of Hungary, we addressed the nations of the world through the voice of Hungarian music. It was deeply moving to see diplomats from nearly one hundred countries bow their heads together before the Hungarian heroes while our music carried the message of courage, gratitude, and freedom.

In Philadelphia, we performed at the historic Union League building, where Hungarian music reached representatives of American political, cultural, and diplomatic life. It was a special honor to receive an invitation to the celebration of the 250th anniversary of the United States, where we will once again represent Hungary and Hungarian art.

In Los Angeles, we gave a concert at the legendary Bel-Air Country Club to benefit victims of the wildfires. There we met our friends David Foster and Katharine McPhee, and new outlines of American-Hungarian cultural collaborations began to take shape. I also performed one of my dearest pieces, the hauntingly beautiful theme from Schindler’s List by the legendary John Williams. Wherever I perform around the world, I play it to remember – and to remind others – of the lessons of our shared history.

The highlight of our tour was Carnegie Hall in New York, where the audience gave us a standing ovation even before we stepped on stage. The proceeds from this charity concert were donated to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and we decided to contribute an equal amount to support Hungarian children’s hospitals as well, because we believe that help should begin at home.

The funds raised at the charity concert will be complemented by contributions from the Hungarian government and additional supporters, making the final donation substantial. I will return to New York on December 13 to personally present the total amount to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

At Carnegie Hall we performed a completely acoustic concert—without amplification—so that every nuance of the music could be heard purely, naturally, and full of soul. Pianist Brent Morden, the Budapest Gypsy Virtuosi, and my son Zoltán Mága Jr. also performed, and his playing received tremendous ovation.

During our stay in New York, we also held diplomatic meetings, including with the leaders of the Young Republicans of America, to discuss the future of Hungarian-American cultural relations. We were invited to the organization’s Christmas Gala, to which President Donald Trump is also invited. Overall, our American tour was not only an artistic success but also a profound human and cultural mission. We brought the message of Hungarian music, charity, and bridge-building between nations to the world’s greatest stages. For us, music is not merely a profession but a calling—to carry Hungary’s good name around the world and to show that the power of faith, love, and togetherness knows no boundaries.

RS: You are also the featured performer of Hungary’s largest annual New Year’s Concert. Could you share more about this?

ZM: On January 1, we will hold the Budapest New Year’s Concert for the eighteenth time. Over the years, it has become one of Hungary’s and indeed Europe’s most significant cultural events. During nearly two decades, this concert has provided not only an exceptional musical experience but has also grown into a true national tradition and a moral message. The motto of this jubilee year—“Together for 18 Years!”—perfectly expresses what we aim to convey each year: the importance of peace, unity, shared values, and national cohesion.

Throughout the years, we have performed alongside world-famous artists and multiple Grammy Award–winning musicians who are at home in the greatest concert halls around the world. Our guests have included David Foster, the sixteen-time Grammy Award–winning producer and composer, and Katharine McPhee, the American singer and actress with whom we have performed several times. We are proud to have shared the stage with Ramón Vargas, the world-renowned Mexican tenor; Aida Garifullina, one of the brightest stars of Russian opera; and Sheila, the American pop icon—all of whom have contributed to making our concert a truly international event.

Of course, the greatest figures of Hungary’s artistic world also celebrate with us every year—Kossuth Prize-winning singers, musicians, and actors—without whom the concert would not be complete, either musically or emotionally. They are the ones who represent Hungary’s cultural values with dignity, and whose talent and dedication elevate the splendor of the evening time and again.

For us, the New Year’s Concert is not merely a grand musical event but a mission: to convey, through the power of music, the beauty, spirit, and message of peace of Hungary to the entire world. Each year, we strive for our audiences—both Hungarian and international—to feel through music what faith, love, and togetherness mean to us.

RS:  And to return to your American tour, let’s hear some more recollections about that.

ZM: One of the most defining experiences of my life was this year’s American tour, which led from Washington through New York to Los Angeles, carrying with it the message of Hungarian music, love, unity, and charity to some of the world’s most prestigious stages. I am deeply grateful that, as a Hungarian artist, we could once again conquer America — and even more grateful that through the power of music, we were able to build bridges between nations and between people.

RS: And can you share some more specific recollections, as you played in Washington, Philadelphia, Los Angeles, and New York?

ZM: Washington:There was a message of freedom and national unity in Washington. The first stop of the tour was the Kennedy Center in Washington, where we performed before a fantastic audience. It was a deeply moving experience to represent Hungary, the Hungarian spirit, and the message of freedom and Christian values at one of the world’s greatest cultural institutions. Ambassador Szabolcs Takács welcomed the audience, praising not only the international stature of Hungarian art but also the cultural and human mission that my music represents. After the concert, the audience expressed their appreciation with a long standing ovation – I felt that with every note, we carried the heart of Hungary to Washington.

As I said then, “At the Kennedy Center, music once again united us. Every note carried the message of the Hungarian soul — the power of faith, love, and patriotism.”

On October 23, it was a great honor to perform at the Embassy of Hungary in Washington in memory of the heroes of the 1956 Revolution and War of Independence. Among the attendees were Minister of Foreign Affairs and Trade Péter Szijjártó, American secretaries, ambassadors, and diplomats — representatives of numerous nations from around the world. As I said that evening: “The courage of the heroes of 1956 continues to teach us that we must always preserve our freedom, our faith, and our national independence — peacefully, yet resolutely.”

New York: The highlight of the tour was Carnegie Hall, where it was once again an honor to perform on one of the world’s most iconic stages. The audience rose to their feet as I stepped on stage — a moment I will never forget. It was also a great joy that the concert was entirely acoustic, without amplification — the music resonated sincerely, purely, and with soul. Sharing the stage with me were pianist Brent Morden, the Budapest Gypsy Virtuosos, and my son, Zoltán Mága Jr., whose virtuosic performance received a standing ovation.

Also, in cooperation with the United Nations and the Consulate General of Hungary, I had the privilege of performing a commemorative concert marking the 69th anniversary of the 1956 Revolution. Ambassadors and diplomats from nearly one hundred countries’ permanent missions to the UN were present – it was the first time such a wide international community paid tribute to the Hungarian heroes. There, at the UN, while I played, I felt that Hungary’s voice was speaking to the world – through the language of music, the voice of freedom, faith, and gratitude. As I said then: “Music is the language of the soul that transcends all borders. Today, Hungary’s voice was a message of gratitude, respect, and freedom to the nations of the world.”

During my stay in New York, I also met with Stefano Loudarus Forte, President of the New York Young Republicans, and Vice President Brent Morden. Our discussion centered on strengthening Hungarian–American cultural relations and on the nation-building and value-preserving role of art. I was invited to the Young Republicans’ Christmas Gala, to which President Donald Trump himself is also invited.Az űrlap teteje

Editor’s note: The New York Carnegie Hall Concert of Mr. Zoltán Mága was organized by the Liszt Institute New York.

Philadelphia: We brought Hungarian music to the heart of American history – Philadelphia. Philadelphia, the historical capital of the United States, was a particularly special venue for me. We performed in the elegant building of the Union League, America’s first Republican club, where we presented Hungarian music to the American political, diplomatic, and cultural elite. I vividly remember how uplifting it was to stand in the place where America’s freedom was born and to serve the ideal of unity through the sound of the Hungarian violin. Earlier, I had the privilege to play personally for President Donald Trump, who spoke with great appreciation of Hungary, the Hungarian people, and Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. He said: “Your Prime Minister is a leader who bravely stands up for his country, for peace, and for Christian values — setting an example for all of Europe.” In Philadelphia, I felt once again that music builds bridges between our nations.

Los Angeles: In Los Angeles, at the legendary Bel-Air Country Club, I performed before world-renowned producers, artists, politicians, and diplomats. The evening was held to support the victims of the wildfires, once again showing the power of unity through music. It was a joy to reunite with my friend, sixteen-time Grammy Award-winning producer David Foster, and singer Katharine McPhee.

During our conversations, new opportunities for American-Hungarian cultural collaboration began to take shape, and I received an invitation from Lance O’Connor, the owner of Minted Content, to take part in next year’s even more extensive American tour. I am grateful to be able to present the beauty of Hungarian music in a world-class setting. I firmly believe that music is the most beautiful bridge between nations.

RS: And clearly charity is an important part of your activities. Please share anything else you’d like to about your extensive charitable work.

ZM: About my charitable work, looking back over the past decades, I can proudly recall that I have given nearly one thousand charity concerts, through which we have been able to provide assistance worth several million dollars to those in need—both in Hungary and beyond its borders.

As I mentioned, all the proceeds of my concert at Carnegie Hall were donated to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, and as I announced: “Whatever amount of donations was raised here in America, I will match with an equal contribution to support Hungarian children’s hospitals, from the proceeds of the Budapest New Year’s Concert. Because we must first help at home, in Hungary — and from there, wherever we can around the world.”

RS: Thank you so much for sharing your time, experience, and feelings with us today – and with our readers.

by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Artistic director: Yiming Wu; Music Director: Yu-ting Cheng; 3rd MusicON Competition Judges: Wang Lu and Felipe Lara; Tech Director Haibei Wang

Performers & composers from the MusicON International Composition Competition:
KaiChen Cheng (flute), Yu-Ting Cheng (clarinet), Clara Cho (cello), Yoon Sang Timothy Cho (conductor), Eva Ding (flute), Sunmi Han (piano), Daniel Lamas (viola), Yeji Pyun (violin), Makana Medeiros (percussion), Sara Salomon (violin), Tsung-Yu Tsai (cello), Tyler Vittoroia (double bass), Taige Wang (piano), Foo Jeng Wong (piano),Jin Yang (pipa)

Opera America National Opera Center, Marc A. Scorca Hall, New York, NY
October 26, 2025

Sunday’s performance marked the third evening of the MusicOn International Composition Competition showcase of Aspiring Young Composers. A varied program of ten unknown works was presented, all by participants and finalists in this unique competition – one that celebrates the craft of composition from an early age, an admirable endeavor to continue a tradition with centuries of history.

First on the program was Exhalation by composer Lucy Chen – this piece was a duo for piano and cello performed by Foo Jeng Wong (piano) and Clara Cho (cello). This piece, commissioned by the 2025 MusicOn Festival was inspired by Ted Chiang’s Exhalation, a story about a futuristic world where air powers life and thought. The work was performed with sensitivity by the duo and many of the extended techniques for cello were handled with care by Cho, communicating the character of these “exhales” with clarity. The work as a whole could have had a bit more direction, but its moodiness kept this reviewer attentive until the very captivating ending.

A contrasting work, Periphery for small ensemble and conductor by Emily Bai followed the program. The performers were Sara Salomon (violin), Tsung-Yu Tsai (cello), KaiChen Cheng (flute), Yu-Ting Cheng (clarinet) and led by Yoon Sang Timothy Cho. The fragmented opening was angular and Webern-like. The ensemble was tight a with the quiet and subdued moments – this was when it was most effective. Although the ensemble handled the work well, the promise of the opening figures didn’t completely materialize with no obvious or clear climax but it was still a great effort from Bai.

Reverie for piano and violin by Andy Yiheng Li was next, performed by Sumi Han (piano) and Sara Salomon (violin). This Debussyesque work (even in its title) was also a commission by the 2025 MusicOn Festival. Han conveyed the piano’s delicate textures with sensitivity and color, creating a supple harmonic fabric over which the violin could sing. The work unfolded with clear structural intention and sustained the audience’s attention throughout. While moments of greater intimacy from the violin might have enhanced the overall effect, the duo captured the work’s lyrical and dramatic essence with poise and expressivity.

In the next small ensemble piece, Echoes of Silver Rain by Xinyuan Deng, the marimba part played by Makana Medeiros was a standout. The other members of the ensemble were Yeji Pyun (violin), Tsung-Yu Tsai (cello), Eva Ding (flute), and conductor Yoon Sang Timothy Cho. This piece began with seductive figures between the instruments in the ensemble. This cohesive group was able to communicate a clear concept, and all the important musical gestures were beautifully crafted. Choosing this instrumentation was a great decision by Deng and his adept use of the strength of each one was skillfully done. The ending was particularly effective.

Zihan Wu’s Memoir of the Bamboo Sea, a finalist work in the 2025 MusicON Composition Competition, was performed by Eva Ding (flute) and Makana Madeiros (marimba). This evocative piece stood out as a highlight of the program to this reviewer. The opening flute solo was haunting, with bending tones that seemed to wail from a distance, immediately setting an introspective tone. Wu’s writing demonstrates a thoughtful understanding of both instruments, achieving a remarkable balance and clarity in their interaction.

Rather than depicting a physical landscape, Memoir of the Bamboo Sea captures the emotional resonance of remembering a place, in this case, the composer’s hometown. Ding delivered a commanding performance, conveying the work’s deep emotional layers with expressive nuance, while Madeiros brought sensitivity, precision, and a subtle allure to the marimba part. Their collaboration was deeply engaging, leaving this reviewer hopeful that the duo will continue performing together. Bravo to both performers and to the imaginative young composer!

Unfolding Memory by Angela Jin was performed by Foo Jeng Wong (piano), Sara Salomon (violin), Daniel Lamas (viola), Clara Cho (cello), KaiChen Cheng (flute) and led by Yoon Sang Timothy Cho. According to the composer this work “explores how memories resurface – sometimes vivid, sometimes blurred.” This sense of gradual revelation was apparent from the opening, suggesting a journey toward transformation or resolution. However, the work ultimately felt somewhat disjunct and lacking in direction. While moments of intriguing texture and color emerged, the piece struggled to maintain a coherent throughline, even within its intended dialogue between clarity and obscurity.

The next work, Fluctuations on a bed of blue by Emily Cheng was written for string quintet. The ensemble was comprised of Yeji Pyun and Sara Salomon (violins), Daniel Lamas (viola), Clara Cho (cello) and Tyler Vittoria (double bass). Cheng’s writing explored rhythm with a playful sensitivity, allowing the music to sway and breathe with each syncopation. The inclusion of the double bass lent the texture a satisfying depth, while the ensemble’s cohesive interplay brought out the work’s colorful sonorities. The result was a piece imbued with a mellow character that unfolded with charm and fluidity.

A duo for piano and clarinet by composer Tony Li titled The Mystical followed. This work was commissioned by the 2025 MusicON festival. It was performed by Foo Jeng Wong (piano) and Yu-Ting Cheng (clarinet). The work opened with colorful, impressionistic motifs from both instruments, evoking the harmonic language of early twentieth-century French composers. As the second section unfolded, however, the piano writing at times lacked the harmonic support needed to fully complement the clarinet line. Despite this, the piece maintained an appealing sense of mystery, and the performers conveyed its atmospheric qualities with sensitivity. With further refinement, The Mystical could more clearly articulate its expressive intent and structural cohesion.

The work with the most intriguing instrumentation was Variations on a Theme from Bizet’s Carmen by Taige Wang with the composer at the piano and Jin Yang on pipa, a Chinese traditional instrument. This instrument, not known for playing works in a Western harmonic language was beautifully colorful and expertly played by Yang. The piece opened with a bold flourish before introducing the familiar Habanera theme, famously sung by Bizet’s protagonist. Wang’s imaginative treatment of the melody created moments of lively dialogue between the two instruments, blending Eastern and Western idioms with flair. Although the balance occasionally favored the piano, at times overshadowing the pipa, the performance overall was engaging and full of spirited energy. The work stood out for its inventive approach and playful reimagining of a well-known classic.

Congratulations to all of those involved in creating this three-day festival of presenting new works to the public. The event was well organized and thoughtfully curated, showcasing an impressive range of creative performances. However, the noticeably sparse audience was disappointing. With greater outreach and engagement, the festival could draw a larger and more involved community presence, matching the high quality of the performances themselves.

by Walter Aparicio  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Artistic director: Yiming Wu; Music Director: Yu-ting Cheng; 3rd MusicON Competition Judges: Wang Lu and Felipe Lara;  Tech Director Haibei Wang

Performers & composers from the MusicON International Composition Competition: KaiChen Cheng (flute), Yu-Ting Cheng (clarinet), Yoon Sang Timothy Cho  (conductor), Clara Cho (cello), Eva Ding (flute), Shirley Guo (harp), Joanne Kang (piano), Yeji Pyun (violin), Sara Salomon (violin), Tsung-Yu Tsai (cello)

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

October 24, 2025

This evening’s concert presented at the Opera America National Opera Center, Marc A. Scorca Hall, featured compositions by young and aspiring composers who are all participants and finalists in the 2025 MusicON International Composition Competition. The programming included a variety of chamber works as well as solo piano. Tonight’s concert highlighted the very youngest category of composers in this event – as young as 9-years-old.

Tiger Liu’s composition Kaua’i ‘Ō’Ō, a solo piano piece inspired by Olivier Messiaen, is a portrait of the extinct bird and the Hawaiian landscape. The opening chords arrested the listener’s attention with its rich palate of French sonorities – they were immediately contrasted by an opposing character and sound. The Messiaen-like rhythms were handled well by pianist Joanne Kang, but the chordal passages could have had a wider range of color throughout. Following this opening section, a convincing and captivating second section displayed the emblematic “water music” of the French impressionists – this was handled expertly by Kang. The piece ends with one final bird call, “a haunting echo of loss and hope.”

Second Impression by Brendan Li, a 16-year-old composer from Vancouver, BC, Canada followed. This piece, in the composer’s words, “aims to capture the feeling of exploring the mysterious other side of things.” This piece was performed by Joanne Kang (piano) and Sara Salomon (violin), each in command of every aspect of this work. The piano intro was flowing but the character seemed undefined, and an obtuse melody emerged from the violin. Although the performers were able to execute the score organically, it was unclear what each instrument’s role really was. At points, the violin had some technical passages that didn’t contribute to the storytelling of the work. In general, this piece could have had a clearer point of view.

The piece Beaver by the Water by Edmond Zhuo began somewhat dissonantly. This piece for string quartet was performed by Sara Salomon and Yeji Pyun (violin), Daniel Lamas (viola), and Clara Cho (cello). This reviewer found this programmatic piece to have some charming ideas but wouldn’t have understood the story if it hadn’t been written in the program. A stronger sense of interaction between the instruments could have also cleared up some of the incongruous sounds – for example, violin 1 seemed disconnected from the rest of the group activity at times. It is a lovely piece but could use some refining in its part writing.

Cultivation of a Spirit is said to celebrate “growth & harmony.” This piece by Lucy Fang is for a small ensemble that included Joanne Kang (piano), Yeji Pyun (violin), Tsung-Yu Tsai (cello), KaiChen Cheng (flute) and conductor Yoon Sang Timothy Cho. This piece was quite successful from the opening flute motif, its violin answer/imitation and the entry of the piano. It sets the stage for the narrative of the work. Fang was able to produce an organic blend of the instruments including some extended techniques on the flute. As the piece continued, it was clear that it was being held together well by the ensemble and, particularly, the conductor which resulted in an exciting climax with all the instruments in the group. An interesting work by Lucy Fang!

Duet No. 1 by 11-year-old composer Charles Zhuo was performed by pianist Joanne Kang and violinist Sara Salomon. This serene and reflective work offered a pleasant listening experience, with piano writing that conveyed a gentle, meditative character. However, the violin part at times felt less idiomatic, and the dialogue between the two instruments could have been developed further to enhance the sense of interaction. The conclusion, too, might have benefited from a more vivid or decisive gesture. According to the program note, the piece is inspired by a lively and imaginative narrative, a quality that could be explored more boldly in the writing itself. Nevertheless, it is an impressive accomplishment for such a young composer, and Zhuo’s work shows great promise for future development.

Next on the program were Two Miniatures by 9-year-old Annie Wu. The first piece, The Joy of Summer, opened with a Lisztian passage, lush and shapely. This could communicate the image of the water to the listener. This piece, performed by Joanne Kang, had the listener captivated and the form was clear. It was colorful and scenic. The second piece, The Mysterious Sound of an Insect, began with colorful rolled chords and trills. The melodic material was beautiful, and it eventually transformed into a murky and rumbling piece – the ending was bombastic and strong. A vivid piece!

Twilight Reverie byJohn Liu concluded the program with a sense of tranquility and dreamlike lyricism. Scored for a small ensemble—Yeji Pyun (violin), Daniel Lamas (viola), Eva Ding (flute), Yu-Ting Cheng (clarinet), Tsung-Yu Tsai (cello), and Shirley Guo (harp). The work displayed a strong sense of unity and continuity throughout. Opening with a jaunty, cinematic theme, the piece immediately established a vivid sense of character and motion. Liu demonstrated an impressive command of instrumental color, blending the ensemble’s diverse timbres with sensitivity and skill. The group’s performance was well-balanced and communicative, with particularly noteworthy solo passages from the clarinet and viola. Shifts in mood were handled with clarity and effectiveness, maintaining the listener’s engagement throughout. Overall, Liu’s craftsmanship and refined sense of ensemble writing made Twilight Reverie a compelling and satisfying conclusion to the concert.

It is impressive to hear the work of these young composers – I admire the work of this organization and look forward to the other nights of the festival this weekend.

by Walter Aparicio  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY