Alexei Tartakovsky, piano

Baisley Powell Elebash Recital Hall, The Graduate Center, CUNY, New York, NY

February 24, 2020

Pianist Alexei Tartakovsky appeared at Baisley Powell Elebash Recital Hall at the CUNY Graduate Center as part of the Ph.D/D.M.A. Programs in Music on February 24, 2020. He is currently pursuing his doctorate with Richard Goode at CUNY Graduate Center, where he was awarded the Graduate Center Fellowship.

Mr. Tartakovsky has an impressive list of accomplishments that the reader can learn more about by visiting https://www.atartakovsky.com/. His program was all twenty-four of Chopin’s Op. 28 Preludes, Einojuhani Rautavaara’s Passionale, and Schubert’s Sonata in B-flat major, D. 960.

The first half consisted of the Chopin. These Preludes have loomed large in this reviewer’s personal and professional life, and consequently, some rather strong opinions have developed about how these pieces should be played. (The reader might already be thinking that my objectivity is compromised, but rest assured I do not claim to own the truth, only my truth.)

Mr. Tartakovsky’s excellent program notes about the Preludes quote Schumann (some rather backhanded compliments), and Liszt (more generous praise). I would like to add two more. Musicologist Henry Finck said that, “if all piano music in the world were to be destroyed, excepting one collection, my vote should be cast for Chopin’s Preludes.” Chopin biographer Jeremy Nicholas writes that, “Even on their own, the 24 Preludes would have ensured Chopin’s claim to immortality.”

With all that being said, let’s get to it. Mr. Tartakovsky’s conception of the preludes is to treat the set as a single work with (as he states in his notes) “a clear beginning, middle, and end.” I am in general agreement with this concept, even if there is dispute over whether this was Chopin’s actual intent. It is a thoughtful, intelligent approach, and given Mr. Tartakovsky’s consistency in overall style, it also was compelling. That style was one of avoidance of any overt emotion or any exaggerated romanticism, basically “playing it straight.” For this listener, it struck me as overly cautious. It is certainly not a question a technique, as Mr. Tartakovsky has more than enough firepower to handle these works, and his accuracy was outstanding. I’m not wanting hyper-exaggerated emoting, but a little more exploration of emotional depth in a few preludes (notably the E minor, the F# major, and the A-flat major). To be fair, the G major and C# minor were exquisitely done, the D-flat major “Raindrop” had a surprising freshness of quality for such a well-known work, and the B-flat minor (which has caused innumerable pianists to crash and burn as they flew off the rails catastrophically) was lightning fast with each note clearly articulated – truly exceptional. Honorable mentions go to the E-flat major (another ferociously difficult prelude that has snuffed out the dreams of many a pianist), and the final Prelude in D minor. After the last of the three hammer blows on the low D, the audience gave Mr. Tartakovsky a standing ovation.

After intermission, Mr. Tartakovsky opened with Passionale, written in 2003 by Finnish composer Einojuhani Rautavaara. This listener is an admirer of Rautavaara’s works, so it was a wonderful bonus to hear this piece. Rautavaara is “modern” (for lack of a better term) in his harmonic language, but always remains highly accessible to the listener. Passionale is the modern Chopin or Liszt in its romantic conception, but the sound is unmistakably Rautavaara. Mr. Tartakovsky really let loose and “went for it” in a fantastic performance. It was easily the favorite of the night for this listener.

After the Passionale, Mr. Tartakovsky returned to the thoughtful, intellectual side with Schubert’s Sonata in B-flat major, D. 960. Written in the last year of Schubert’s life (1828), it was not published until ten years after the composer’s death. Mr. Tartakovsky writes in his notes that “one can’t help but feel that this sonata is Schubert’s epitaph to himself,” which is not altogether without reason. Thematic material and ideas from previous works abound throughout. Mr. Tartakovsky’s artistry was on full display here. The long lines and autumnal qualities that are much more difficult to render effectively than many realize were done with a natural, organic quality. It’s another thing to keep the listener involved in this very long sonata, but the audience was held in rapt attention, which is no mean feat. I have observed much restlessness from listeners in other performances (by “big name” artists), and that was not the case here. Mr. Tartakovsky can be proud of his superb playing. The audience rewarded him with a loud and extended standing ovation.

Mr. Tartakovsky offered two encores, Schubert’s Liebesbotschaft arranged by Liszt and Chopin’s Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 34. No.1, both played with graceful elegance.

Kara Mulder, soprano

Anna Shelest, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 23, 2020

On the afternoon of February 23, 2020, soprano Kara Mulder gave her solo debut at Carnegie Hall as the Alexander and Buono Competitions’ 2019 Grand Prize Winner. She presented a program with songs from Richard Strauss, Debussy, Rachmaninoff, Weill, and Gershwin, and Puccini arias from La Bohème and Madama Butterfly. Pianist Anna Shelest (a past A&B prize winner) was Ms. Mulder’s excellent collaborator.

Barry Alexander and Cosmo Buono welcomed the audience to the concert. Mr. Alexander spoke of the mission of Alexander and Buono (alexanderbuono.com) and served as a musical docent. He spoke of the composers, the works, and shared anecdotes from the stage, expressing his unabashed admiration for Ms. Mulder and Ms. Shelest. Mr. Alexander is a gifted speaker with a definite dramatic flair. While this listener would have preferred to read notes rather than to hear them, it was very well received by the audience and did add context to the excellent performances. The program booklet was of keepsake quality, in sharp contrast to the missing programs and cheaply produced photocopies that are all too frequent these days. It speaks of a first-class organization that is committed to excellence in not only musical content, but in the marketing and presentation as well.

This reviewer has had the pleasure of hearing both Ms. Mulder and Ms. Shelest last year. Interested readers can read that review by clicking the following link: Winners of the Barry Alexander International Vocal Competition.

At the risk of repeating myself, Ms. Mulder is outstanding not only in her singing, but in her exceptional dramatic skill. I’m fairly certain that she has invested much thought into her acting, but it all appears completely spontaneous, which is quite remarkable. There are many fine singers who are, to be frank, rather poor at projecting any natural movements or expressions. Some might find my admiration out of place for the non-musical aspect, but it is all part and parcel of the performance.

I’m not going to discuss all twenty-three (!) songs/arias that Ms. Mulder presented. Rather, I’m going to consider them as sets by the individual composers and rank them, in reverse order of my preferences. Please note this is not to say that I disliked or had major issues with any of the selections.

For those who must know the entire program: Richard Strauss- Zueignung, Op 10, No.1; Allerseelen Op. 10, No. 8; Ständchen, Op.17, No.2; Cäcilie” Op. 27 No. 2; Morgen!, Op 27, No. 4

Claude Debussy- Ariettes oubliées 1.”Le vent dans la plaine suspend son haleine”: C’est l’extase langoureuse; 2.”Il pleut doucement sur la ville”: Il pleure dans mon cœur comme il pleut sur la ville; 3.”Le rossignol qui, du haut d’une branche”: L’ombre des arbres dans la rivière embrumée; 4.Paysages belges. Chevaux de bois”: Tournez, tournez, bons chevaux de bois; 5.”Aquarelles I. Green”: Voici des fruits, des fleurs, des feuilles; 6.”Aquarelles II. Spleen”: Les roses étaient toutes rouges

Sergei Rachmaninoff, Six Songs, Op. 38 -1.In my Garden at Night ; 2.To Her; 3.Daisies; 4.The Pied Piper; 5. A Dream; 6. A-oo!”

Kurt Weill Foolish Heart; George Gershwin Maybe; S’wonderful

Giacomo Puccini- “Si, mi chiamano Mimi,” “Donde lieta usci,” from La bohème; “Un bel di vedremo,” from Madama Butterfly

Ms. Shelest offered three pieces from Cécile Chaminade to start the second half. They were the Air de Ballet in B-flat major, Op. 37, and the Automne and Scherzo from the Concert Etudes, Op. 36. Ms. Shelest is known for her advocacy of female composers, and her commitment was front and center in as she wowed the audience in her passionate performance. As Mr. Alexander said to the audience after they gave Ms. Shelest a standing ovation, “I told you so!” Yes, sir, you certainly did!

Now, on to the vocal selections. The Weill/Gershwin songs highlighted Ms. Mulder’s versatility in lighter fare, which she did with style. The Puccini arias were full of both innocence and heartbreak, as they should be. They are mandatory for any soprano, and Ms. Mulder presented her bona fides with polish. The Strauss songs are filled with challenges that push even the most technically assured singer to the limit. One hearing these songs for the first time would not have had a clue about that, as Ms. Mulder made such short work of them. They were breathtaking. The Debussy songs were exquisite as well, as Ms. Mulder is a colorist who captures their sensuousness without drenching it in perfume.

It was the Rachmaninoff songs, though, that were this listener’s favorites. While Ms. Mulder excels in all she sings, it seems she has a special affinity for the Slavic (see the earlier review for another instance of this). While Rachmaninoff’s genius for song is indisputable, it still requires a gifted artist to bring that genius out to its fullest. Ms. Mulder is that artist. This listener’s favorite of this set was the one that, for Rachmaninoff, was unusually playful and whimsical, The Pied Piper. Ms. Mulder projected a cocky swagger, complete with a wink at the end, which was delightfully irreverent. One could not help but smile!

The large audience rewarded Ms. Mulder and Ms. Shelest with a standing ovation, completed with admiring fans presenting them with flowers. The sky is the limit for Ms. Mulder, and with the support of Alexander and Buono she has every chance of realizing her dreams.

Ian Hobson, piano

SubCulture, New York, NY

February 19, 2020

Fantasy Pieces

Fantasiestücke, Op. 111

Fantasiestücke, Op. 12

Fantasia in C, Op. 17

Ian Hobson is a heroic completist. I admire the intellectual curiosity and physical stamina it takes to produce such investigations, for they allow us to perceive the larger context of a composer’s work, what I like to call the genetic resemblance among the works, what amounts to the personal fingerprint or style of that artist, possessed by no other.

Mr. Hobson kicked off his epic series exploring the complete solo piano music and piano-based chamber music of Robert Schumann on February 19th with an evening of ‘fantasy’ titled pieces. (Yes, I wish Schumann’s lieder were included in this series.) The word fantasie in German implies a free flight of the imagination, and this concept fueled so much of Schumann’s output, including pieces that don’t even bear such a title overtly. Interestingly, the pieces called fantasien are some of the most cogently structured in Schumann’s total oeuvre, usually three part A-B-A forms, often with codas of short or medium length.

Some general qualities of Hobson’s performance on this occasion, before I turn to details: He revealed the strength and architecture of every piece, through an unfussy approach. He didn’t automatically slow down the end of every phrase. He didn’t ‘perfume’ the music with a certain Victorian idea of ‘poetry.’ He didn’t treat the music like a museum piece, rather he plunged in with a headlong high energy that put things together.

I think Mr. Hobson performed as Master Raro, the third of Schumann’s personalities and the one who gets the least attention. Master Raro was the mediator between Florestan, the fiery impetuous soul, and Eusebius, the dreamy one. I sensed that Hobson identified with Florestan more, but then he’d do something so breathtaking, some little detail, often in a coda, that was sheer magic.

The recital began with the unjustly neglected late-period Fantasiestücke, Op. 111. Can we once and for all do away with the idea that late-period Schumann is the product of a feeble and disordered mind? The mind was doubtless wracked by mental illness, but it was far from feeble. These three pieces form an arch of sorts, with the most poignant one in the middle. The outer two are both in C minor, and they storm away, with distant references to Schumann’s detailed study of baroque counterpoint. In the middle work, which I regard as Schubert’s ‘seventh’ Moment Musical, the outer ‘A’ sections even resemble Schubert’s second Moment, with the same key, A-flat, and similar melodic rise and fall within a restricted compass. The reverie is interrupted by a contrasting agitated section that seems to reintroduce the first piece. Peace is regained however, and Mr. Hobson was perfect in portraying the calm resolution.

Mr. Hobson was at his finest in the large set of Fantasiestücke, Op. 12. Most of these are well-known, ‘or are they?’ When music becomes iconic, there is a danger of not really listening after the first few notes are played. We think we’re plugged in, but we’re really playing our own soundtrack. Mr. Hobson did not allow such an automatic reaction. Through a combination of strength and delicacy, he showed perhaps what the music sounded like two hundred years ago, when Clara Schumann was constantly begging Robert to compose something ‘a bit less difficult’ for her audiences to grasp.

Mr. Hobson’s rendition allowed me to perceive the frightful toll of undiagnosed bipolar illness, the sudden, violent contrasts between manic energy, unbounded creative confidence, followed by the horrifying plunges into dark chasms of depression from which one thinks one will never emerge. The headlong abandon with which Hobson launched into the Traumeswirren (Dream-Confusions) was truly terrifying and well worth the few dropped notes here or there. Again, I noticed all the codas, which simply melted into reflective contentment. What an achievement!

After a brief intermission came the Fantasie, Op. 17, omnipresent on so many recitals. This work was initially projected as part of the fund-raising effort for a Beethoven monument in Bonn, with Franz Liszt (dedicatee of the work) the prime instigator. The movements once had programmatic titles, and a prominent quotation from Beethoven’s An die ferne Geliebte song cycle (To the Distant Beloved) forms the conclusion to the first movement (once also found at the end of the third movement, which Mr. Hobson I think wisely chose not to play—he stuck to the traditional ending).

Since Schumann and Clara were forbidden by her father to see each other, he communicated with her through music that was mailed, often containing the famous Clara cipher, usually six descending notes. The Fantasie is preceded by an epigram from Schlegel: “Through all the tones resounding/In the many-colored dream of life/A softer tone sounds/For the one who knows secretly how to listen.” Again, the coded conversation is stunning.

Mr. Hobson’s approach was brisk and orchestral. The fearsome coda to the second movement’s march almost got away from him, but the sense of risk was palpably worth it. Many virtuosi won’t end an entire program with the work, because of the quiet ending. Thank goodness Mr. Hobson can’t be bothered with such silliness. He returned us to the dream-state we need, and now we can’t wait to hear the sequel(s) of his devotion to the rest of Schumann.

Mr. Hobson favored his appreciative audience with an encore by Chopin that was nicknamed by Schumann “The Aeolian Harp” (Etude Op. 25, No. 1), referring to a mythical Greek instrument played by the wind, whose modulations depended on the strength of the breeze. Recall what Schumann’s dreamy side, Eusebius, said about Chopin in 1831: “Hat’s off, gentlemen! A genius!” regarding the latter’s variations on Mozart’s “La ci darem la mano” for piano and orchestra.

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor

Featuring Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Michael Adelson, DCINY Assistant Artistic Director and Conductor

Debra Cook, Soprano

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

Sunday, February 16, 2020

Perpetual Light was the apt title for this Sunday’s concert presented by Distinguished Concerts International New York, and, though the title presumably refers to the Lux Aeterna finale of the John Rutter Requiem which made up this concert’s second half, the title suits DCINY’s uplifting programming overall. The DCINY organization occupies a unique position in New York concert life by drawing together singers from all over the world for choral and orchestral concerts, and their performances consistently radiate fellowship and joy in music-making. This weekend the large combined forces included choruses from Alabama, California, Illinois, Indiana, North Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, and, as the program states, “individual singers from around the globe.” In addition to the much-loved Rutter work, the concert included shorter works by Rain Worthington, Mark John McEnroe, Arthur Gottschalk, and Sergio Cervetti before intermission.

It should be noted that all the works on the first half were chosen by Croatian-based conductor Miran Vaupotić, who we were told could not be present to conduct them due to visa issues. Fortunately, conductor Michael Adelson, the Assistant Artistic Director of DCINY since 2019, was able to step in as a replacement, and he led the orchestra with precision and assurance. The works chosen happened to be in somewhat accessible contemporary styles overall, but that is not to say that they were without challenges of balance, rhythm, and synchronization. Thankfully all involved were up to the demands, as one has come to expect from this orchestra.

Still Motion by Rain Worthington (b. 1949) set a tone of anticipation for the program’s opener. Described by the composer as “a mix of edgy energy, reflective sadness and strength of conviction” the work creates a hypnotic effect through repeated motives, particularly in the percussion parts (including vibraphone and tam-tam). The ever-reliable Distinguished Concerts Orchestra played it with a sense of expectant drama, and the composer was present to take a bow.

Next up were two symphonic pieces, Dance of the Pagans and Storm Clouds Approaching, by Mark John McEncroe (b. 1947). One reads in the program notes that that these two pieces were orchestrations of works written for piano, taken from Mr. McEnroe’s volumes 2 and 3 of Musical Images for Piano: Reflections & Recollections Series. The first piece, fittingly folk-like in its simplistic symmetrical phrases and repeated melodic patterns, was brought to life by the deft orchestrator’s hand of Mark J. Saliba, who perhaps ought to have been given shared billing, beyond the mention in the program notes. The second piece, moodier and more complex, seemed to present more challenges in terms of expressiveness and ensemble but was handled well by conductor and orchestra alike. The composer enjoyed a bow for each piece.

Music of Gottschalk came next, but not Louis Moreau Gottschalk (as one assumed on first glance at the DCINY website) but Arthur Gottschalk (b. 1952). We heard Tebe Boga, a solemn religious work set to a text roughly the equivalent to the Latin Te Deum but in Old Slavonic, as the work was commissioned for the Siberian State Orchestra and Choir by conductor Vladimir Lande. Composed in 2018 for orchestra, choir, and solo bass-baritone, it was adapted here for just bass-baritone and orchestra, and the intrepid soloist was Timothy Jones, who handled the entire text with compelling involvement and sure delivery. It was fascinating music by a composer who clearly knows his craft. It was originally intended to be interpolated into performances of the same composer’s Requiem: For the Living, so perhaps DCINY will present that work at some point.

Closing the first half were two atmospheric movements from the opera Elegy for A Prince by  Sergio Cervetti (b. 1940). The opera is based on Oscar Wilde’s The Happy Prince, and we heard Scenes 1 and 9, from Act II. The role of Swallow (and later Match-Girl) was sung by soprano Megan Weston, whose sweetness of sound worked in contrast in Scene 1 with the projected anguish of excellent bass-baritone Luis Alejandro Orozco as a Prince-turned-statue. Ms. Weston was even more remarkable in Scene 9, her high notes soaring in the music’s beautiful evocations of Swallow’s descent from heaven. Tenor Quinn Bernegger, in the role of Young Writer, then summed up the opera’s themes of compassion and benevolence, concluding with nobility the scene and the first half of this concert.

John Rutter’s much-loved Requiem closed the program under the direction now of Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Principal Conductor of DCINY. Composed in the relatively consolatory spirit of Fauré’s Requiem, it omits the traditional Dies Irae, and its movements of meditation and comfort outbalance the darker sections. As a British composer, Rutter also inserts two completely English movements, Out of the Deep and The Lord is My Shepherd (the second and sixth of the overall seven-movement “arch”). This music emerged in its full glory, with the multiple choruses blending quite well (and their behind-the-scenes leaders taking a well-deserved bow afterwards). The final Lux Aeterna was sheer heaven, with partial thanks to soprano soloist Debra Cook, who sang with a covered, velvety quality in her high registers, never shrill or harsh and with true intonation. She was also superb in the Pie Jesu. Outstanding as well was principal cellist Elizabeth Mikhael in the second movement Out of the Deep, beautifully resonant both in her opening solo and as the cello part was interwoven with chorus and orchestra. Kudos to all – and to DCINY for a remarkable achievement.

Rachel Eve Holmes, Soprano

Pedro Carreras, Tenor; Catherine Giel, Piano

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 12th, 2020

This was a delightful evening of music from opera and American musical theater with three splendid artists.

Rachel Eve Holmes has performed over thirty leading operatic and musical theater roles with many companies and orchestras all over the country. A few of the competitions she has won are the 2019 Utah Philharmonic Orchestra Concerto Competition, the 2018 Concert Artists International Virtuoso Competition, the 2016 Atlanta Musical Clubs Competition, the 2015 Schubert Club Competition, and the 2011 Weill Hall Carnegie Hall Young Musicians Concert Competition. Her voice radiates power and confidence.

Pedro Carreras, a native of Miami, is particularly active, professionally, in the Atlanta area. He performs in opera, classical and music theater genres, and is an Adjunct Professor of Voice at Reinhardt University in Waleska, Georgia. There is real lyricism and sensitivity in his singing.  Pianist Catherine Giel was the ideal collaborative artist in this program. She was perfectly in step with the singers  at all times in terms of ensemble and balance, and her playing always matched the character of what was being sung. She is Music Director of the Capitol City Opera, and has served as accompanist, stage manager and Outreach Coordinator to the Florida State Opera. She has also been a Staff Accompanist for the Metropolitan Opera National Council auditions.

Bizet’s “Parle-moi da mere” (from Carmen) started off the evening with great energy and some delightful duo singing. The blending of voices in Mascagni’s “Cherry Duet” (L’amico Fritz) was lovely, and the languid, slow responsive section quite beautiful. The comedy in the recitativo sections of Donizetti’s “Caro elisir…Esulti pur la barbara”( L’elisir d’amore) was wonderful. One enjoyed how the singers teased, and tormented each other virtuosically! Puccini’s very individual idiom has a particular harmonic sophistication and ethos. In “Bimba dagli occhi pieni di malia” (Madama Butterfly) there was tenderness, and also an extended section of high notes which Ms. Holmes sang with ease. Verdi’s “Parigi, o cara” (La Traviata)had a joyous beginning. Later, the slow section was strong but delicate, with perfect ensemble, Ms. Giel matching the character of the vocal lines in her chords. Puccini’s “O soave fanciulla” (La bohème) concluded the first half of the program with two famous arias, the singers then walking together offstage, from where their sustained high notes could still be heard!

The second half of the program consisted of songs from Jason Robert Brown’s musical The Bridges of Madison County. This work, so different from the operatic first half, showed off other strengths of the singers. The music itself is very alert, appealing, and engaging. Some of the songs featured just Ms. Holmes or Mr. Carreras. Others included both of them. “To Build A Home,” the first song, is a travelogue across America. I was immediately impressed by Ms. Holmes’ superb English diction.”Temporarily Lost” was nostalgic, with jazzy harmonies. “What Do You Call A Man Like That?” was troubled, turbulent and, questioning. “Wondering” was searching, with a wounded, emotional quality. “The World Inside a Frame” was passionate, and had a sudden and unexpected quiet end.  “Falling Into You,” with both singers, had a dreamy nature. Ms. Holmes sang “Almost Real” operatically, with both delicacy and bitterness.  There was tenderness and intimacy in “Before and After You.” There is a section which Mr. Carreras sang without piano accompaniment after which Ms. Holmes sang more dramatically with the piano. This led directly into the next song, “One Second and A Million Miles,” which included some elaborate right hand figurations for the piano. “It All Fades Away,” about remembering a love, was filled with longing and passion. “Always Better,” the concluding song, sounded warm and contented. “Love Is Always Better” was followed by reprises of some of what we heard earlier: “You and I Are Just One Second and a Million Miles” and part of the theme from the first song.

Only after the concert did I read the synopsis of this show (an adaptation of the Robert James Waller novel, which was also the source for the 1995 Clint Eastwood/Meryl Streep movie) and learned that it is the story about a married woman’s brief affair with a man whom she meets while her family is away. She decides not to continue the relationship, but never forgets it, holding a warm remembrance of it. Did I miss out on anything, having not known the story beforehand? Perhaps just a little. But that didn’t keep me from appreciating a fine evening of wonderful, emotional and sometimes virtuosic singing.

Regina Shenderovich, piano

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

January 28, 2020

There’s a first time for everything—I’ll explain shortly. Pianist Regina Shenderovich had the inspired idea of presenting Baroque and neo-Baroque music on the same program. Three toccatas: Frescobaldi (Toccata Nona in F Major from Il secondo libro di toccata) and Froberger (Toccata II in D Minor, FbWV102, from Libro Secondo ), two predecessors of Bach, then genuine Bach (Toccata in E minor, BWV 914), followed by the complete first half of Shostakovich’s monumental Preludes and Fugues, Op. 87. Here’s the first time: In all my years as a performer, listener, and critic, I have never heard either Frescobaldi or Froberger on a piano recital! Organ recitals, yes, harpsichord yes, but piano, never. This alone signals an unusual level of curiosity in Ms. Shenderovich.

The recital took place in the rather acoustically live hall of the National Opera Center. I don’t know what was done in terms of promoting the event, but it’s a shame that more people were not in attendance to hear it—it was free. The bare-bones program listed no biographical information, so I had to Google to find out that Ms. Shenderovich was trained in Saint Petersburg (Russia), and that she has bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees in piano from Boston Conservatory, Peabody Conservatory, and University of Illinois, respectively; and that she has studied with some of the finest teachers and performers. Ms. Shenderovich dedicated her program to the memory of her grandmother.

Her innovative program was played with great commitment and more than enough technical fluidity. The massive Shostakovich group was played from score—no objection here, though I do expect greater accuracy when using the music. The recital was marred by a certain tendency to rush, or not hold long notes or rests for their full value, all of which gave the music a perfunctory quality, though I could see her emotional involvement. Ms. Shenderovich’s left hand was not fully grounded, often failing to sound, or, when it did, failing to provide needed resonant support for the treble. As I need to say so often in these pages, there was insufficient attention paid to dynamics of piano and pianissimo; though every so often Ms. Shenderovich would create a magical soft sound, contrasting with her customary boisterous approach.

The group of Baroque toccatas suffered from the left-hand issue, particularly the Bach, and there was just not enough sonic variety: after all, if we’re using the modern piano, let’s go for it. Her trills and ornaments were quite admirable, however.

It is an honor just to be in the ‘same room’ as the Shostakovich, which was inspired by his serving on the jury of the first-ever Leipzig international Bach competition, held on the 250th anniversary of Bach’s death, and was won by Tatiana Nikolaevich, to whom the works were dedicated, and who premiered them and carried them across the globe for decades.

For me, the standouts of Ms. Shenderovich’s Shostakovich were several of the Preludes: the A minor, E minor, B minor (dotted rhythms of the French overture), E major, and C-sharp minor, in which her technique and passion were best united. The C major prelude lacked the tenderness of the sarabande; its fugue should peak at a mezzo-forte. Many of the fugues were taken too fast, and lacked the laser-focused contrapuntal clarity that makes them transparent. The best fugue was the final one in G-sharp minor, whose many subject entries were audible, though still lacking enough pianissimo. The G major fugue was a close second, with its jaunty subject highlighting Ms. Shenderovich’s strengths. A majority of the fugues, as specified in the score, begin quite softly and do not increase in dynamics, often for many measures. With Ms. Shenderovich’s inflated dynamics, many of them sounded like character pieces that contained ‘some’ counterpoint, instead of the encyclopedia of twentieth-century polyphonic ingenuity that they are. (An arguable approach?)

Notwithstanding my complaints above, Ms. Shenderovich’s performance allowed me to perceive the many intricate thematic relations among the preludes and fugues, with ‘tonic-dominant-sixth scale degree’ recurring in striking fashion, not surprising in a work composed fairly quickly, out of the same laboratory of the mind that belonged to Dmitri Shostakovich. I hope that Ms. Shenderovich will continue her work with the cycle (also the second half!), refining her deep listening and ability to bring out the contrapuntal beauties while placing some competing voices on a different sonorous level, and adding that indefinable contemplative quality which reveals the inner tragedy never far from the surface in Shostakovich. She is well on the way to acquiring something our world urgently needs to hear.

Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Principal Conductor

Sir Karl Jenkins, CBE, Composer-in-Residence

Iestyn Davies, countertenor; Baidar Al Basri, ethnic music vocalist; Mikhail Veselov, cello; Claudia Chapa, mezzo-soprano;  Hussein Janmohamed, Call to Prayers reciter

Special Guest: Jeff Spurgeon, WQXR Radio Personality

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra; Distinguished Concerts Singers international

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 20, 2020

Sir Karl Jenkins (born 1944) is a Welsh composer who has been active in many fields of composition including rock, jazz, and advertising, as well as “serious” music. This program featured two of his major works, each of which consists of thirteen parts. The evening began with the North American premiere and, internationally, the second performance, of his Miserere: Songs of Mercy and Redemption. By contrast, the other work, The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace, is twenty years old and so popular, we were told, that it has been performed an average of twice a week ever since it was composed!

The size of Distinguished Concerts Singers International varies from performance to performance, but it seemed that on this occasion there were at least 150 to 200 singers onstage, and it was glorious to hear such a powerful vocal ensemble in this wonderful hall! The Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, founded in 2008 by Dr. Jonathan Griffith, varies from being a large group, in the Miserere, to a huge ensemble, such as filled the stage during The Armed Man. As with the chorus, the orchestra and the soloists, including a trumpeter who played from the Dress Circle in one movement of The Armed Man, were all excellent. (Unfortunately I could not find his name in the program.)

Some relevant words from the program notes about the Miserere by the composer: “Miserere: Songs of Mercy and Redemption is dedicated to all who have suffered during the tragic conflicts of the Middle East over the last 70 years. As we are only too well aware, the violence, horror and destruction have not been limited to that geo-political area…Miserere is the Latin imperative for ‘have mercy’ and is often used as a title for Psalm 51, of which the opening words are “Miserere mei, Deus” (Have mercy upon me, O God). Many composers have set this psalm to music…”

This work began with the Principium, featuring a solo by the wonderful cellist Mikhail Veselov, and evocative vocalizations by the ethnic vocal soloist Baidar Al Basri. Most of the vocal solos after that were by the excellent countertenor Iestyn Davies. The second movement, Miserere mei, Deum, was soothing and consoling, more “western sounding” than the first movement. The Ubi Caritas was warm and comforting, and the Sacramentum featured an eloquent cello solo. The sixth movement, which grew out of a unison, was based on the hymn, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” and had a powerful a cappella choral section. The eighth movement, Hymnus: Locus iste ,was more adventurous harmonically than what had come before, with interesting pauses between phrases. Praise, Joy and Gladness, the ninth movement, had a lively, different ethos, with perhaps an African influence, and great enthusiasm. Canendo, the tenth movement, was luxuriantly slow, a contemplation of beauty. The eleventh movement, Eli Jenkins’ Prayer and Epilogue, had a wonderfully big sound from the a cappella chorus, to which a small string ensemble was later added. Rahma (Mercy), the twelfth movement, was all but shouted out in Arabic, Hebrew, Greek and Aramaic, and featured a strong beat, a Middle Eastern flavor, and chromaticism. Contemplation and Redemption, the final movement was, in part, warm and calm, yet also somewhat edgy, with still unresolved emotional tension. The end felt like a benediction. There followed a standing ovation.

Guy Wilson has written program notes for The Armed Man: A Mass For Peace, which is clearly a classic of this type of anti-war repertoire. To quote Mr. Wilson: “The Armed Man: A Mass For Peace is the result of a special millennial commission from the Royal Armouries, and the latest in a six century-old tradition of ‘Armed Man’ masses that take the 15^th century French song, L’Homme Armé as their starting point. The theme that the Armed Man must be feared, which is the message of the song, seemed painfully relevant to the 20^th century and so the idea was born to commission a modern Armed Man Mass…The Armed Man, A Mass For Peace, received its world premiere in April 2000 at London’s Royal Albert Hall. In a rapturous performance, by turns visceral and ethereal, the Mass was ‘a fire bomb of orchestral and human voices’ (according to the London Times) and drew ‘prolonged shouts of approval from the audience’ (according to the Independent).”  Before it was performed there was a brief onstage discussion with Sir Karl, Maestro Griffith, and Jeff Spurgeon from the radio station WQXR

Screened high above the orchestra and chorus as we heard this sixty-three minute musical work, focusing on the tragedies of war, was the film, The Armed Man. The film includes video of practically every known horror of the 20^th century, including Nazis marching, war scenes, the aftermath of atrocities, the destruction of the World Trade Center, and touching scenes of relatives taking leave of their soldier sons, husbands, and fathers departing for battle. It was not clear to me if the film is usually shown together with this immense musical composition. People will have differing opinions on multi-media presentations. I could not help but wonder if encountering both at the same time may be overload, as the combined effect can all but push one over the edge emotionally. Does the film perhaps distract from the music, or the other way around? This may be a minority opinion, but I think I would prefer to hear/see them separately. Certainly, the musical score is on a monumental level.

There was great energy and enthusiasm in the first movement, which cheered me until I remembered the point of it was glorifying war. Following the Muslim call to prayer (Adhaan) came the somber Kyrie. The fourth movement, Save Me From Bloody Men, based on Psalm 56, had the male choral voices a cappella in a quasi-recitativo. The fifth movement, Sanctus,  featured the chorus and brass responding to each other with ongoing drums at the same time. In this movement the orchestra made such a gigantic sound that the chorus was, at times, all but drowned out.  The Hymn Before Action was dramatic and ominous.  In the eighth movement, Angry Flames, mezzo-soprano Claudia Chapa declaimed against the brass, and there were choral “comments.” Her voice has particularly fine low notes.  The ninth movement, Torches, had sonic eruptions, a quieter choral section, and then an explosion on the last word. The mood of the tenth movement, Agnus Dei , was one of resignation. Part of its loveliness reminded me of the Fauré Requiem. Now the Guns Have Stopped featured a major mezzo-soprano solo and tense harmonies, as if the ravages of war were still very much present, rather than past tense. The Benedictus, with a beautiful cello solo, was followed by the final movement, Better Is Peace. The big surprise, for one not familiar with this work, was that its theme was the same as that of the first movement, but here the music clamored, with equal strength, for peace, as it before had endorsed war. Brilliant! The last part of this final movement was based on a Biblical passage from Revelation. It was peaceful and chorale-like, and served as an Amen.

The composer and performers were greeted at the conclusion with great warmth and a standing ovation from the large audience.

Yi Zhong and Joseph Kingma, pianists

Yamaha Artist Services, Inc. (YASI) Piano Salon, New York, NY

Wednesday, January 8, 2020

Two pianists shared a concert this week at the Yamaha Artists Services, Inc (YASI) piano salon on Fifth Avenue: Joseph Kingma, winner of the 2017 Liszt International Piano Competition in Ohio, and Yi Zhong, a prize winner of the 2016 Los Angeles Liszt International Piano Competition. The concert was presented under the auspices of the American Liszt Society (ALS), and pianist Gila Goldstein, president of its New York/New Jersey Chapter since she founded it 1992, spoke words of introduction. She prepared the sizeable crowd for an evening of virtuosity, not exclusively by Liszt but also Rachmaninoff and composers who followed Liszt.

Yi Zhong played first, starting with two movements of Liszt’s transcription of the Berlioz Symphonie Fantastique. We heard Reveries – Passions and Un Bal. Un Bal is the better known of the two movements, and it was brilliant in Mr. Zhong’s hands, projecting charm and sweep in its lilting waltz and mounting to a bravura ending with rapid octaves, huge leaps, hand-crossings – “the works.” Mr. Zhong is a fine champion for this transcription movement, which is still relatively rarely played.

Still rarer are live piano performances of the Symphonie’s longer first movement, Reveries-Passions, and perhaps with good reason. Berlioz, as one of history’s great masters of orchestration poured much of his inspiration into the orchestral colors, and many of these are hard to capture via solo piano, not to mention at high speed while addressing balance and detail. It is rather telling that, when pianist Christopher O’Riley performed the entire fifty-minute Symphonie in New York in 2018, it was in collaboration with Basil Twist’s aquatic puppetry, ballet, lights, and tinsel. Without ample color of some sort, the high drama can descend into hokum and the piano writing into dreck. Mr. Zhong thankfully avoided that fate, but the loudness of the hall piano still dominated the experience. Mr. Zhong certainly has the pianism to tackle just about anything, but this special niche of the repertoire will call for that “je ne sais quoi.”

A bit of a sonic reprieve came with the sublime Quejas o la Maja y el Ruiseñor (The Maiden and the Nightingale) from Goyescas of Enrique Granados.  Mr. Zhong showed a genuine warmth of feeling here, which grew still more apparent in the next work, the Intermezzo No. 1 of Mexican composer Manuel Ponce (1882-1948). Ponce remains best known for guitar works, so it was refreshing to hear part of his piano output.

Mr. Zhong concluded his programmed portion with Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 15 (Rakoczy March) in Vladimir Horowitz’s version, played with tremendous technical skill and a Horowitzian gleam. Mr. Zhong is a pianist of impressive stamina, fierce concentration, and unquestionable technical command, and these bode well for his busy performing life. He returned for an encore, a jazzy piano arrangement by Alexis Weissenberg of the charming En Avril À Paris (April in Paris) of Charles Trenet (not to be confused with Vernon Duke’s April in Paris). These Weissenberg arrangements have also been performed by Marc-André Hamelin but have only recently (late 2018-2019) been made available in a Muse Press publication (edited by Mr. Hamelin), so Mr. Zhong is surely close to the forefront of some fresh repertoire.

The second pianist of the evening was Joseph Kingma. This reviewer worried a bit that the aural saturation point had already been reached in the first half, so the prospect of hearing Liszt’s Sonetto 104 del Petrarca from Années de Pèlerinages (V. II, Italy) and the complete Thirteen Preludes Op. 32 of Rachmaninoff was daunting; any misgivings, though, were short-lived.

Mr. Kingma coaxed the listener into the music’s poetry from the very first notes of his Liszt, showing the command of a master and a composer’s insight. Though his technique emerged through the program as one which is capable of anything, it was always used in the service of the music itself.

Mr. Kingma’s Rachmaninoff Preludes were astonishingly good, each in a different way. To say that the Op. 32 set is hard to pull off in live performance is an understatement. The Preludes as a group challenge every facet of pianism and musicality (including stamina), but, beyond that, they require that an artist draw out the uniqueness of each one, lest they all become a blur for an average audience after forty minutes. It was clear that Mr. Kingma knew each piece from inside the music but could also step outside each one enough to “translate” it in a sense to his audience – a rare gift.

From the stormy virtuosity of No. 1 to the dark brooding in No. 2 with its restless undercurrent and the brisk energy of No. 3’s wintry troika ride, Mr. Kingma captured the opening three wonderfully. The elusive, shifting moods in No. 4 are unwieldy for many but were projected quite persuasively, and an ethereal transparency graced the Prelude No. 5 in G major (Moderato). If one occasionally wondered whether the pedal might be a bit sluggish (as also possibly in Sonnet 104 early on), that reservation was fleeting, and the Prelude No. 6 lived up to its Allegro appassionato designation, roiling with rapid-fire finger-work and power.

These pieces travel to interesting territory tonally (one was reminded of Shostakovich and Prokofiev in moments of the No. 7 in F major, Moderato), and just when one felt one knew every inch of Rachmaninoff’s work, Mr. Kingma rekindled the desire to relearn them all more deeply. One hopes he will record the entire set (if he hasn’t already). He has clearly delved into each one on all levels, from the broader swaths to the finer lines, colored inflections, and nuances.

The set progressed seamlessly to its close, from the fleet-fingered lightness of No. 8 to the masterful pacing of No. 9, the palpable tragedy of No. 10 in B minor, and the mercurial shifts in No. 11. Only the briefest glitch arose in No. 12 – remarkable amid such a large undertaking – and the final ponderous No. 13 (Grave) held the audience spellbound. On that subject, lest one think it was an audience of all cognoscenti, two neighboring attendees who had been audibly trying to distinguish Berlioz from Granados sat utterly transfixed and silent – an affirmation of the power of music and of Mr. Kingma’s performance.

The only distractions by the end were the bongo-like noises of the hall’s radiator, which, in view of all the acoustical technology used in this space, seemed rather ironic. Both artists deserved better, so one hopes that this problem can be resolved. Apart from such matters, congratulations are in order to all involved.