Helios Trio: Chi-Chen Wu, piano; John Fadial, violin; Beth Vanderborgh, cello

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 1, 2022

I can’t speak with authority about the State of the Union, but I can assert that the State of Chamber Music in Wyoming is very fine, as manifested by the Helios Trio (Not to be confused with the French-based Trio Helios!): Chi-Chen Wu, piano; John Fadial, violin; Beth Vanderborgh, cello; on Tuesday, March 1, 2022. They gave the audience a rich Mardi Gras indulgence, but I hope they’re not giving chamber music up for Lent.

The program of two pillars of the piano trio repertoire and one novelty was played with great togetherness, sensitivity, solo ability, unanimity of phrasing, and dynamic planning.

The program began with The Spirit and the Maiden (2004, rev. 2013) by Elena Kats-Chernin (b. 1957), born in Uzbekistan but a resident of Australia from an early age. This is a programmatic trio, based on a mystical tale, a sort of “reverse” Ondine, if you will: the seductive water creature is male and the mortal victim is female. One often hears that with program music, the important thing isn’t the program at all, but the quality of the music without the program. If I had heard this work without reading the story, I would have enjoyed it; however, I can’t really detect an “illustration” of the story in its three movements, as lovely as they are.

The three movements are what I like to call “maximal” minimalism—there are some of the usual hallmarks (motoric energy, repeated patterns), but Kats-Chernin also uses modal melodies that are very accessible and sounding almost folkloric. The performance was beautiful and engaging; the enigmatic ending almost prohibited the audience from applauding.

Helios followed this with the first of Mendelssohn’s two piano trios, the oft-played D minor, Op. 49. Once again, everything was scrupulously prepared, with fine attention to phrasing. One small caveat: I found pianist Chi-Chen Wu to be extremely virtuosic but overly deferent in terms of balance. This made the work sound “small-scale” when, in important places, it should have sounded more heroic. She played so softly that in too many places there were notes that didn’t sound; this was particularly detrimental in the final chord of the Andante movement, where one only heard B-flats from strings and piano, instead of a full B-flat chord in the piano. The writing is indeed thick at times (Mendelssohn’s piano was lighter), but all notes must be played and then a dynamic determination made. Never mind, the blistering speed Ms.Wu adopted in the Scherzo showed her credentials as a pianist to be admired.

I also particularly enjoyed the fine playing of cellist Beth Vanderborgh, especially in the Andante, but throughout. So often in piano trios the cellist tends to be the “ignored” one. Her musicality would allow none of that, and she brought attention to lines that one often doesn’t pay attention to. Perhaps besides the discretion of the pianist, she was aided in this by violinist John Fadial, who never played like a diva, but  I felt he even scaled some of his big moments down. The ensemble took many of the “standard” places where one expands the tempo, but they also contributed some of their own individuality to what amounted to an exciting rendition.

After intermission, they tackled Maurice Ravel’s only piano trio. Ravel viewed each one of his relatively few compositions as the unique and perfect solution to a musical problem he posed to himself. Thus, the piano trio, with its perennial balance issues became his thesis. Ravel the master orchestrator brings his skill to the three instruments perfectly, while not neglecting to create heartbreakingly simple modal themes to express emotion.

In this work, Helios really opened up. Ms. Wu came out of her shell and really rose to the immense climaxes that are required. The first movement’s main theme, in a Basque rhythm called zortziko, is “of Basque color,” as Ravel said. He composed it just adjacent to his birthplace of Ciboure in Basque country, in July 1914 “despite the rain and freezing temperatures” (unusual on the Côte Basque in July), a sort of harbinger.

The first three movements were finished prior to the outbreak of World War I. Ravel loathed any association of his music with current events (the violence of La Valse, for example), but it is hard not to hear in the fanfares of the Final, the desperate hopes for victory in the coming conflict.

The Pantoum, second movement scherzo, is based on an esoteric Malaysian verse form with interlocking lines within the stanzas. Here, Ravel does find some musical equivalency with the two main themes interweaving. Ever the master constructor, the first (silvery rapid) theme of the Pantoum, greatly slowed down, becomes the melody of the Passacaille.

Equally hard not to hear is the De Profundis despair of this Passacaille, which in the Baroque was a composition based on a repeating bass line. Of course Ravel the fastidious perfectionist knew he wasn’t writing a strict passacaglia at all, only the melody repeats, climbing out of the depths, building to a shattering climax, and then retreating, mirror-fashion, to its tomb-like conclusion. This journey was gorgeously rendered by the three members of Helios.

By this time, everyone in the audience knew, as well as I, that the Final would be an exciting ride, and indeed it was. Ravel himself, despite repeated rejections by the French army, managed to enlist and serve as a truck driver in 1916 and early 1917, near the Verdun front. During this time, he became ill, and his beloved mother died—he was discharged to attend her funeral. The premiere of the Trio was in January 1915, and during those anguished early months of heavy losses, it went virtually unnoticed. Thank goodness for wonderful advocates of the trio repertoire like Helios, who bring it to us in our own anguished time. Dear Helios, please return often!

by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Seong-Joo Kang, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 23,  2022

One of those rare events happened on Wednesday evening: a recital that made the reviewer set aside his analytical self and simply surrender to the beauty of what was unfolding. Seong-Joo Kang, a 27-year-old Korean-born pianist, was the creator of this magic.

Seong-Joo Kang began piano studies in his native Seoul at age five, but has done his collegiate-level music study in various locales in Germany, playing for the leading lights of that culture, and obviously absorbing everything he can about the Austro-Hungarian and German traditions.

However, there are some things that can not be taught. Ah, therein lies the mystery of talent! With the first clear notes of the Haydn F minor Variations, Hob. XVII:6, a pianist of taste, style, poetic feeling, intellect, and discipline was revealed. This work, written in a key Haydn rarely used, is almost painfully private; a double variation set. In keeping with the most authentic style practice, Mr. Kang had the good sense to play the F major sections just a tad faster (nothing radical), but when he returned to the minor key, the deliberate pace he resumed each time became ever bleaker. Just prior to the conclusion, the piece breaks into what I call a “mad scene” from some imagined Baroque opera, or a reference to Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy, before resolving into a very uncertain F major. Not a note was out of place, the sonority was beautiful, and there was no idle “passagework” – every note sang.

Next came Schubert’s Fantasy in C Major, commonly known as the “Wanderer,” after the song quoted in the second part (of four continuous “movements”). The archetype of Romantic period longing, “Da wo Du nicht bists/Da ist dein Haus” (Wherever you are not/There is your home). The continuous dactyls of the poem (long-short-short; commonly used in ancient Greek epics) are represented musically in this monothematic masterpiece. For Schubert, even the epic triumphs of this Fantasy may be more desperate than joyful; this rhythm also became an oft-used signifier for death.

The sheer bravado of the three quick sections should really make us reevaluate what Schubert may have been like as a piano performer. In the Fantasy, Mr. Kang was able to thunder (without ever banging!), then turn immediately to a whisper. He savored every color change from minor to major, and knew exactly how to make the required subito pianos, as well as pacing the repeated climaxes. This is the work that does not want to “say goodbye,” its C major coda restates itself again and again. Yet Mr. Kang’s grasp of structure is so strong, the work never wandered. One hint: After playing such a titanic work, dear Seong-Joo, please take a much bigger bow- you’ve earned it!

After intermission, the entire second half was devoted to delicious Rachmaninoff, one transcription and one original set. One could hardly imagine a composer more diametrically opposed to Viennese classicism than Sergei R. the “6-foot scowl.” Yet, in his own abundant recordings Rachmaninoff reveals himself to be quite “classical” in his expression, unlike the sometimes highly exaggerated versions we hear today. Mr. Kang followed in this straightforward path, to great effect.

The first work was Fritz Kreisler’s delectable Liebesleid (Pains of Love, originally for violin and piano), a Viennese waltz of such charm that one scarcely notices how difficult Rachmaninoff’s arrangement is (!), especially in the hands of a pianist like Mr. Kang. His economy of motion is a joy to behold. Everything goes into the music, no gratuitous display.

He followed with Rachmaninoff’s Six Moments Musicaux, Op. 16, an obvious reference to Schubert’s set of the same name. But what a difference. Four of these pieces are awash in decorative filigrees of either lacy delicacy or thundering power (or both). Mr. Kang clarified every single texture without ever sounding taxed or busy. Frankly, I could have used a little more exaggeration in these works, as well as that hallmark of the Russian school: attention paid to bringing out inner voices. The two lyrical movements were also beautiful, with No. 5 in D-flat bringing a spontaneous tear or two to this crabby old reviewer’s eyes. Have I gone soft due to the pandemic? I think not.

Mr. Kang favored his small but fiercely devoted audience with the Schumann/Liszt song transcription Widmung, which was perfectly sensitive.

by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Mozart “Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman” Variations, KV 265: Six Sets of Video Performances by Solomon Mikowsky and Piano Students (including Alumni and MSM Faculty)

Original idea by Ahmed Alom (BM student), Administrative Director and Coordinator

Joseph Patrych, Technical Supervisor; Asaf Blasberg, Videographer

March 2021

Pianophiles everywhere, take heed! If you’ve ever thought there is “one way” to play Mozart, or if you’d like to explore multiple styles and approaches but without combing the Internet, you have a treat in store! All on one webpage (The Twinkle Project) at the Manhattan School of Music website, there are six video compilations dedicated to what is called The Twinkle Project, including performances by 50 pianists (though the website states the count is 47), each playing a variation (or two or three of the twelve) from Mozart’s famous Variations for Piano, K. 265, on “Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman” (the French folk song from which the “Twinkle, Twinkle” tune was taken a half a century later). It is a mammoth project, a feat of organization and collaboration, and a moving and awe-inspiring celebration to see and hear fifty pianists of diverse ages, nations, and styles, uniting in tribute to Mozart, with the common ground being their association with the Manhattan School of Music –  in particular with master teacher Solomon Mikowsky, who himself performs the theme for each set.

As Mr. Mikowsky states on the website: “When my gifted piano student, Ahmed Alom (BM ’21), alerted me to his idea of a video-recording of Mozart’s “Twinkle” variations performed in collaboration with 11 of his classmates, I immediately realized that this project would be an ideal vehicle for an expression of gratitude to the school to which we all owe so much: MANHATTAN SCHOOL OF MUSIC! Shortly afterwards, I decided to expand it to also encompass many alumni, including the seven current members of MSM’s piano faculty.  This has allowed me to renew contacts with students who studied with me from as far back as 51 years ago: more than 5 decades!” He continues to say, “The most rewarding aspect of this MSM multi-pianist collaboration is the inspiration provided by the great composer, making the participants realize anew Mozart’s genius and the artistic challenge that performing 16 measures of his music entails.”

Indeed, anyone who has ever said “it’s as easy as Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” (referring to the nursery song) probably does not know Mozart’s twelve scintillating piano variations on this theme (published in 1785), and the wide range of techniques and expression that this work encompasses. A perfect pandemic project for an assemblage of conservatory pianists performing virtually from locations all over the world, it was completed March 2021, under the guidance of recording veteran Joseph Patrych, with videographer Asaf Blasberg. It remains available at the link above, a testament to resiliency of musicians during the pandemic and of loyalty to their teacher, colleague, and alma mater. As cheerful as much of the Mozart composition is, one may need a box of tissues while watching these pianists, some in slippers, playing on instruments ranging from at-home electronic keyboards to uprights and grands, some clearly borrowed, some by necessity untuned, and all coping valiantly despite the blows of pandemic lockdowns and quarantines.

Having been assigned to review this project, I faced several challenges. Clearly there is no way to address thoroughly all fifty pianists on six separate videos (with some overlap among them), so there will be just brief mentions of some highights; all fifty pianists, however, are listed at the end of this review.

Also challenging was the issue of the very premise, which Mr. Mikowsky himself addressed, asking, “Can both unity and variety be established with this number of performers …?” Well, to riff on the famously simplistic definition of musical “variations” as a work in which “something is constantly the same throughout (the theme) and something is constantly different (the treatment of it),”  this collaboration was naturally destined to feature more of the “different” aspect than the unity – and that is just fine. The recognizability of “Twinkle, Twinkle” guarantees that no listener can lose the thread (so a good choice of theme!). Furthermore, as we hear pianists from Australia, Bulgaria, China, Cuba, Cyprus, Georgia, Greece, Israel, Korea, Russia, Slovakia, Spain, Taiwan, Ukraine, and the USA, playing a single piece, the spirit of this entire project emerges as one of “e pluribus unum” – a very moving experience.

Opening with the “Twinkle” theme, octagenarian Solomon Mikowsky demonstrates that his ability to perform is clearly undiminished, and with his meticulous portato articulation he sets a stately tone. Alumni Jie Yuan and Kookhee Hong follow expertly, maximizing the expressiveness of highpoints while retaining the flow.  Alumna Yoon Lee takes the most liberties with time so far, with what might be called a more Romantic approach, and it is welcome. Inesa Sinkevych, projects the next variation with more driving metric precision and energy, still with considerable variety for such a short segment, and Chi-Ying Hung,brings polish and nuance in all regards, letting Mozart’s wit shine through.

Simone Dinnerstein dazzles in Variation 6, with light and fleet fingerwork (as many know from her Bach Goldberg Variations recording), and Kyu Yeon Kim is also brilliant, with attention to the character of each  detail bringing spirit and personality to Variation 7. Bai Yang‘s 8th Variation has a delightful mischievous quality to it, interesting especially in comparison with José Ramón Mendez who takes a more solemn approach – both convincing! Ren Zhang delivers the 9th variation with easy mastery and a beautiful ritardando at the end – as several do – which raises the recurring question as to whether that’s  a drawback of having multiple performers share a piece (one player’s turn is coming to a close, hence a ritard is natural, but then the piece continues, so it perhaps oughtn’t to wind down thirteen times). In any case, this project must be experienced differently. So, onward to Variation 10, we see Adam Kent, sporting a Mozartean white wig (and listed in one caption as Adam “Adameus” Kent!) just in time to remind us that, despite his highly professional music-making, this is all in the spirit of fun!

To follow, the absolutely meltingly beautiful Variation 11 is made more so in the hands of Yuan Sheng, who creates such a spell that one might forget to look at the score and realize that one reason that his ornaments sound so utterly graceful is that they are largely his own. Mastery follows mastery with Alexandre Moutouzkine‘s final variation, made more interesting  with some featuring of alternating registers in an almost stereophonic effect – a fittingly rousing close!

Three encores are included in the first video, starting with Aaron Shorr playing his own “Alla Diabelli e Leporello” (inspired by Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations). It is an inventive classical tribute and is played here with flair. The second encore, for piano and orchestra (here the Havana Lyceum Orchestra), is entitled “Mozart Dreaming of Havana.” It starts with Simone Dinnerstein playing Mozart’s Sonata in G, K. 279, then fading and developing with the orchestra into a dreamlike fusion of Mozart and Cuban popular song, with various orchestral section leaders taking turns at solos. It is a wonderfully spirited and fitting tribute to Mozart, Cuba, and to Mr. Mikowsky’s Cuban roots, which have a great influence on his students. Under that same Latin influence, the third encore is a song called “Mojito” sung in Chinese by Mr. Mikowsky’s doctoral student Jiayin Li, whom I had the pleasure of reviewing in her piano recital in late January. Not only is it extraordinary to hear her versatility of instrument and style, but her singing has an infectiously playful spirit that could “win the Internet” as they say. I’d recommend grabbing a mojito and hearing it. Smiles are guaranteed.

Time limitations will keep the following video summaries shorter, but suffice it to say that in the second video (which is called “set 1” in the upper left corner, all the videos being labeled differently on the site from the captions), we hear more nicely refined phrases from Aaron Shorr, humorous Beethovenian bursts of sound from Yoni Levyatov, some well-projected offbeat melodies from Edward Neeman, and a lovingly rendered Variation 11 from Charis Dimaras. Mr. Dimaras seems so well suited to its pensive quality (like Yuan Sheng), just as Peter Fancovic seems ideal for the grand final variation, that one starts to wonder how the musical “casting” was done. If there is not a musical version of Casting Central, there ought to be one, and a good teacher can fill that role, which may be what has happened here.

By the time one hears the third video (called “Set 2” in the captions), one can be overwhelmed with emotion by some of the out-of-tune instruments and trials that one knows are facing these fine players. We hear impressive playing from all, but notable are the attention to detail from Gloria Lin, the authoritative precision from Olga Vinokur, the nicely sustained lines from Chun Wang, and the almost operatic phrasing from Kyriakos Sourollas. Emily White‘s Variation 6 is brilliant, but she resists excesses of speed, with a moderation of tempo that allows one to experience the details fully. Clarity of imitative entrances marks the playing of Willany Darias, very musical and unselfconscious. Tapered edges and elegance characterize the performance of Elina Christova who follows. Just as one is marveling at the kaleidoscopic range of qualities among all of these pianists, we hear Audrey Axinn who has not only freely ornamented Variation 11 but has practically rewritten it. One might feel a yen to hear a more straightforward reading if this were a single-pianist performance of the entire piece, but as it follows multiple readings of the same music, it comes as a fascinating refreshment. Yungwook Yoo displays tremendous finger technique in the final variation. Capping off the video is a fantastic encore played by (and one assumes composed by)  Jennifer Chu. Entitled “Mozart in Havana” (and dedicated to Mr M’s hometown) it is essentially the “Twinkle” melody cleverly set over a Cuban beat. It is wonderful to see such spirit and such “thinking outside the box” especially in a time of being relegated to living in boxes!

The fourth video (called “Set 3” in the captions) brings some more current students, and all were excellent. Some standouts include Daniel Hart with nice offbeat phrasing as the music invites, Zoe Pian-Chowdhury who finds room to be personal and expressive where it is not easy to do so, plus the fiery Jiayin Li and very sensitive Sophiko Simsive. Ahmed Alom, whose brainchild this all was, finishes the set in fine style, followed by that fabulous “Mojito” encore again!

The fifth video (called “Set 4” in the captions) features MSM faculty and alumni, and one can only think how inspiring it must be for their current students of these pianists to see and hear. After another theme by Mr. Mikowsky, we hear the commanding playing of Elena Belli followed by more wizardry from Alexander Moutouzkine (including some devilishly tricky ornaments). Daniela Bracchi, Inesa Sinkevych, and Robin Freund-Epstein all uphold a high standard, and the energies of Jiayin Li and Adam Kent enliven it all.

In the sixth and final video (“Set 5” in the captions) we hear several pianists we’ve heard already, including Jie Yuan, Simone Dinnerstein, who now adds Variations 7 and 8, showing her more lyrical gifts (along with the previously heard Variation 6), Yuan Sheng, who shows a heartier side in Variation 4 (as well as the previously heard Variation 11), and Ren Zheng, with his crisp and taut Variation 9. In and amongst these performances also we hear some enchanting trills from Po-Wei Ger in Variation 3, and a very young Pre-college student, Eleni Moon, playing Variation 5. It is especially heartening to see the youngest generation taking up the tradition, as it bodes very well for the future of music.

In addition (we knew someone was missing!) we hear Wael Farouk, whom I’ve had the pleasure of reviewing on several occasions and who continues to be a joy to hear. He brings life to Variations 2, 10 (including some special ornamentation), and a grand No. 12 to cap off the entire project.

Congratulations are in order to everyone involved! Congratulations to Solomon Mikowsky on this astonishing array of very individual talents, congratulations to those organizing and recording it all, and congratulations to MSM!

The complete listing of performers alphabetically is (not including Solomon Mikowsky, who played the theme): Ahmed Alom, Audrey Axinn, Elena Belli, Daniela Bracchi, Elina Christova, Jennifer Chu, Willany Darias, Charis Dimaras, Simone Dinnerstein, Peter Fancovic, Ruiqi Fang, Wael Farouk, Robin Freund-Epstein, Po-Wei Ger, Erica Guo, Daniel Hart, Kookhee Hong, Chi-Ying Hung, Tzu-Wei Kang, Adam Kent, Kyu Yeon Kim, Tatuka Kutsnashvili, Mijung Lee, Yoon Lee, Yoni Levyatov, Jiayin Li, Gloria Lin, Sining Liu, José Ramón Mendez, Eleni Moon, Alexandre Moutouzkine, Edward Neeman, Zoe Pian-Chowdhury, Yuan Sheng, Aaron Shorr, Sophiko Simsive, Inesa Sinkevych, Kyriakos Sourollas, Olga Vinokur, Chun Wang, Emily White, Hangli Wu, Jojo Yan, Bai Yang, Yungwook Yoo, Julian Yu, Jie Yuan, WeiWei Zhai, and Ren Zhang.

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

Jiayin Li, piano

Samuel Torres, Percussion

Mikowsky Recital Hall, Manhattan School of Music, New York, NY

January 25, 2022

Call it making lemonade when life deals out lemons, but the Manhattan School of Music has made the best of the pandemic situation with an array of live-streamed performances that would make a diehard concertgoer want to stay home and listen. https://www.msmnyc.edu/livestreams/

Among performances this week was a recital by excellent young pianist Jiayin Li, a pupil of Solomon Mikowsky, esteemed professor for whom the evening’s venue was named. Ms. Li is a candidate for the Doctor of Musical Arts Degree at MSM, and though this recital was listed as a “non-required” one, her program of Cuban piano music goes hand in hand with a dissertation she is writing on the subject, including an annotated collection of the music performed. Under the guidance of Solomon Mikowsky, Cuban-born and a longtime proponent of his country’s music, Ms. Li clearly chose her dissertation topic well, and this listener could hardly wait to hear the eighteen listed Cuban composers from the nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first centuries.

The program enjoyed a festive start with Niña con violín (Girl with a Violin) by Ernán López-Nussa (b. 1958).  Supported with excellent percussion by Samuel Torres on bongos, Ms. Li dove headlong into the music’s spirit,  with none of what might expect to be opening nerves.  The music enjoyed dreamy moments, but with support from Mr. Torres there was an undercurrent of dance rhythms throughout.

Going back to the 1800’s Ms. Li gave appealing renditions of Two Contradanzas by Manuel Saumell (1817–1870), first Los ojos de Pepa (Pepa’s eyes) and then El pañuelo de Pepa (Pepa’s Handkerchief). Direct and unassuming folk-like music with rather reined-in use of syncopation, these are close in style (and vintage) to the music of Louis Moreau Gottschalk (who enjoyed several trips to Cuba). Each has a rather self-effacing ending which Ms. Li tossed off with appropriate understatement. Well done!

Next, moving on to Ignacio Cervantes (1847–1905) came two contrasting Danzas, the soulful Adiós a Cuba (Farewell to Cuba) and to follow it No llores más (Don’t Cry Anymore). Adiós a Cuba was given a sensitive, involved performance, nostalgic and impassioned without being excessive or maudlin. To follow it with the consoling No llores más was a beautiful programming touch, and the playing was captivating.

As a side note, it is hard to write even a review of these pieces without expounding on the details of these interesting composers and how their lives intertwined; it is therefore nearly impossible to see how a doctoral candidate could resist writing program notes for this concert. They would surely have been helpful and enjoyable to many.

A festive spirit resumed with La conga de medianoche (The Midnight Conga) from Six Afrocuban Danzas by Ernesto Lecuona (1895–1963). For those who immediately associate Lecuona with his Malagueña or other popular pieces, La conga de medianoche is rather different in its jazzy evocations of a tropical midnight procession, with spicy dissonances adding a good bit of humor.

In a drastic mood change (great programming leaving not a dull moment), we heard Canción de cuna del niño negro (Lullaby for the Black Child) by Amadeo Roldán (1900–1939). A haunting lullaby with plaintive melody over a hypnotic tritone bass pattern, this lullaby is not one for carefree dreaming (its spirit, though not its harmonic language, bringing to mind the Delius Lullaby for a Modern Baby and other ponderous “modern” berceuses). Ms. Li established its haunting atmosphere from the start and held the audience spellbound.

The tempo and mood lightened up for Con un viejo tres from Sones by Carlo Borbolla (1902–1990). Though one might have expected something more sedate with the word “viejo” (old), a “tres” is a kind of small Cuban guitar – and one can still make a spirited sound on an old instrument! Ms. Li’s interpretation verged on the brisk as did some other pieces – and she could certainly afford more taking of time – but there may have been reasons to move the evening along.

This Sones selection was in any case well played, delivered like a wry story, with surprising twists and turns and the occasional “arched brow” musically. It led perfectly to Danza cubana No. 10, “Machacando” (Cuban Danza No. 10, “Pounding”) by Félix Guerrero (1916–2001). Despite the suggestion of “pounding” Ms. Li played with what was emerging in her performances as a characteristic elegance. Perhaps the translation set up an expectation of something more unleashed, but in any event, it was a joy.

What one expected next (as it was printed in the program) was Berceuse campesina (Peasant Lullaby) by Alejandro García Caturla (1906–1940). It is a piece close to my heart, so fortunately I knew something was amiss with the program order when it did NOT come next. (If the very brief opening remarks from the stage manager had perhaps been to clarify a program change, they were nearly inaudible, and so one was relying on the printed program.) Not to be curmudgeonly, but it is not pleasant to be floundering around to disentangle program order while listening (especially as an assigned reviewer), so the downloadable program ought to have been changed. Suffice it to say that one hopes, particularly in the case of a doctoral candidate, that leaving the audience in a haze of confusion is the opposite of what one wants to do in sharing music.

What actually came next was Zapateo Cubano (Cuban Stomping) by Héctor Angulo (1932–2018). It was alternately jaunty and lilting,  all in all, a winning performance – and it was after the Angulo that we heard the beloved Caturla Berceuse, and it was played with soulful involvement, a pleasure.

Somehow one missed the Guajira (Peasant Song) Harold Gramatges (1918-2008) – was it omitted? Just another communication glitch for the lost audience? In any case, the program moved on like quicksilver to what this reviewer knew to be Cabrera Moreno, No. 7  from Ten Bocetos (Sketches) by Leo Brouwer(b. 1939). Ms. Li dove into it with ferocity, seeming to relish its motoric patterns. In a similar vein was Tumbao by Tania León (b. 1943), also displaying a powerful finger technique and rhythmic precision.

Just when one couldn’t imagine Ms. Li continuing without a “breather” she proceeded to the tour de force that is Caleidotropic (Kaleidotropic) by Guido López-Gavilán (b. 1944). Complete with extended techniques, strumming inside the piano, tapping, and dramatic vocal chanting (with some remarkable singing as well), Ms. Li fearlessly “knocked it out of the park” as they say, leaving her audience dumbfounded before intermission.

The second half of the concert, by comparison to the first, was a relative breeze. A piece by Jorge Lopez Marín (b. 1949) entitled Marileny started somewhat strictly in two voices, then opening up into a freer, jazzier quasi-improvisatory exploration. Following Marileny was a piece called ¡Que Confusión De Tonos! (What A Tonal Confusion!) by Andrés Alén (b. 1950) – actually much less confusing than figuring out what piece was what on the program –  but with tonal shifts well within the range of what one has come to expect from 20th-century music (and 21st). All in all, it was an interesting romp through tonal surprises and “good clean fun” as they say. Habanera Del Ángel (Angel Habanera) by José María Vitier (b. 1954) was just as its title suggests, a soothing and gentle habanera with an intense middle section.

Nearing the program’s end we heard the third piece from El Libro De Música De La Ciudad Celeste (The Music Book Of The Celestial City) by Juan Piñera (b. 1949).  Once again it appears that there was a slight mix-up, as the title of No. 3 was listed as Hacia Una Región De La Luz (Towards A Region Of Light), which seems to be a different movement from what we heard. It seems that what we heard was Como un sol que se derrumba (still No. 3). At any rate, Ms. Li showed in it more of her impressive motoric energy and passion.

Rounding out the program as it began, we enjoyed more percussion collaboration with Samuel Torres on congas joining Ms. Li in, Pan Con “Timba” (Bread With Timba) by Aldo López Gavilán (b. 1979). After a bravura percussion introduction from Mr. Torres – truly virtuosic! – the two musicians took us on one final and fantastic Cuban romp. It was a wonderfully festive finish to the evening, and only the iciest soul would not want to dance to it in celebration.

Ms. Li concluded the concert by graciously thanking her professor in a clearly well-deserved tribute.  Bravi tutti!

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

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

Solange Merdinian, mezzo-soprano

Joel  A. Martin, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 15, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christopher Jessup, piano

Provided to YouTube by CDBaby

Released on: 2021-06-12

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

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

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

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

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

by David La Marche  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

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

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

Feinstein’s/54 Below, New York, NY

November 23, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Zeze Xue, pianist

Bruno Walter Auditorium at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

November 19, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

November 13, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Rachel Schutz, soprano

Timothy Long, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 8, 2021

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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