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Pro Musicis presents Catherine Gregory in Review

Catherine Gregory, flute; David Kaplan, piano; Mihai Marcia, cello; Ian David Rosenbaum, marimba

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 21, 2019

What a pleasure it is to attend a performance by a stellar musician who brings to her performance a lifetime of practice, study, thought, imagination, and scrupulously arranges every detail. The more I consider Catherine Gregory’s flute recital, the more impressed I find myself.

She began with Charles-Marie Widor’s Suite for Flute and Piano, Op. 34- a perfect opener. Flute-playing enjoyed a golden age in Paris in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, and there was a group of composers who wrote pieces to challenge and showcase the virtuosity of the players. One of the most interesting of these composers was Widor (1844-1937). Now known mostly for his organ compositions (he was a famous performer on that instrument ), he also wrote operas, symphonies, and other vocal and instrumental music. The Suite starts in a most unusual manner. A strikingly dissonant beginning makes the piece sound as if it was written long after 1884, the year of its premiere. Soon, however, it settles into a gentle tune, followed by a more animated section, and then returns to the graceful mood of the first section. I was particularly taken with the third movement, Romance: Andantino, whose lyrical beauty which shows the flute in all its glory. To show off the flutist’s technical skills, the last movement, with its rapid triplet 16th notes, first loud, then very soft, did the trick. Having convinced us of her tone, technique, intonation, and phrasing with a typical showpiece of the old school, Ms. Gregory moved on to the very new – Steady Gaze, by Timo Andres (b.1985). Mr. Andres wrote, “Steady Gaze is a catalogue of hundreds of different ways – from offhand to effusive – of saying the same thing.” This piece contains some beautiful moments and deserves to enter the repertoire.

Having presented both the old and the new, Ms. Gregory chose to end the first half with a work from the late twentieth century’s now rather passé avant garde. In 1971, George Crumb’s music was quite the rage. His wide use of extended techniques, electronics, lighting, even his themes (whales in this case) fit in with the happenings, psychedelics, and general mayhem of the years which succeeded the rigidity of the 1950’s. I didn’t expect to see him revived, but who knows? Hindemith was recently resurrected at a well-attended concert of the New York Philharmonic, something I certainly didn’t anticipate. Crumb’s Vox Balaenae (Voice of the Whale) for Three Masked Players (Electric Flute, Electric Cello, and Amplified Piano) rounded out the first half. First, the lone stagehand moved the bells, microphones, speakers, and blue lights into place. The performers then entered wearing black masks, which reminded me of those worn in old cowboy movies. But according to Crumb, “the masks, by effacing the sense of human projection, are intended to represent, symbolically, the powerful impersonal forces of nature.” The piece began with Ms. Gregory’s combined singing and flute-playing, that is, vocalizing as she played. Although I have never really cottoned to this technique, which to me only diminishes the beauty of both instruments, Ms. Gregory did it well and with great conviction. Whether or not it actually sounded like a whale, as was Crumb’s stated intention, is something I am not qualified to say. The piece, which consisted of Vocalise, Sea Theme with five variations, and Sea Nocturne (…for the end of time), went on a little too long for me, but it did contain some captivating moments. The whoosh of the stroked piano strings was highly evocative of ocean waves, and Mihai Marica’s skillful execution of the very high cello part was eerily effective. There was also some fine whistling. I’m not sure who did it (the blue-lit stage was too dark to see clearly), but I think it was Ms. Gregory. Whistling! Now there’s a neglected instrument!

After intermission, Ms. Gregory showed a fine stroke of inspiration. As she emerged from the back of the hall, she said, “Imagine you are in Arcadia,” and went on tell the story of Debussy’s Syrinx. One of the greatest pseudo-improvisations in all of music, this piece sounds different with every player. The trick is to convince the audience that you really are making it up on the spot. Ms. Gregory did this, and her performance was enhanced not only by her introduction, but also by her walking down the aisle as she played, and then gracefully sitting on the edge of the stage towards the end.

Next came Kembang Suling (Flute of Flowers) for Flute and Marimba, by Gareth Farr (b.1968.) What a perfect pairing! The marimba is intrinsically a much more compatible partner for the flute than the piano, the harpsichord, or even the harp. (Composers take note!) Ian David Rosenbaum is, like all the performers on this concert, a virtuoso. His ensemble with Ms. Gregory was uncanny to point that one wasn’t always sure which instrument was playing which note. The piece exploited this lovely union while imitating Balinese gamelan music, the sound of the Japanese shakuhachi (a kind of flute), and the complex rhythms of South Indian music.

Prokofiev’s famous, and famously difficult, Sonata in D major, Op. 94 ended the concert. It was refreshing to hear the fine David Kaplan play with full force and no hint of pussyfooting around to make way for the flute. Ms. Gregory and Mr. Kaplan nailed every virtuoso passage and played the entire piece with heroic abandon. The encore was Fauré’s Morceau de Concours. It couldn’t have been played more beautifully.

by Barrett Cobb for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Sing! Christmas Dreams” in Review

Joseph M. Martin composer/conductor; Heather Sorenson, DCINY composer-in-residence/pianist

Mary McDonald, composer/conductor; Joel Raney, DCINY composer-in-residence/pianist

Sarah Holloway, soprano; Matt Cahill, David John Hailey, baritones

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra; Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 17, 2019

In front of a large and most enthusiastic audience, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented Sing! Christmas Dreams, one of their annual massed chorus extravaganzas. The performers were the highly skilled Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, under the direction of two different conductors, and the Distinguished Concerts Singers International, three large choruses drawn from thirty-nine church choirs in the United States, one Community Chorus from Canada, plus about 10 unaffiliated choristers from around the globe. In total there were approximately 250 choral singers in each of the three choruses. And a glorious mighty sound did they each make!

First some words about the music. At a concert called Sing! Christmas Dreams, one does not expect music that will make very many demands on the listener. The music is expected to be uplifting and accessible, and so it was this evening. Most works utilized a simple harmonic vocabulary and, until the concert’s final work, little or no polyphony. Many used the pop-music cliché of modulating up a half step to increase the impact of a repeat of music and text. Save for the very large performing forces, what we heard would not be out of place on Broadway or in Las Vegas. This is not meant to be taken as a criticism. It is just a description of what this reviewer heard.

The concert was divided into three parts, each featuring a different chorus. The first third was devoted to the New York Premiere of Christmas Dreams – A Cantata of Peace and Hope by Joseph M. Martin and Heather Sorenson. Mr. Martin was also the energetic conductor, and Ms. Sorenson joined the orchestra as pianist. The cantata had seven movements preceded by a short overture. The fifth movement, The Magi’s Epiphany, featured the fine baritone Matt Cahill. My notes on the sixth movement, Christmas Dreams, included “music all sounds alike.”

Although the following admonition appeared in the printed program below the list of movements: “Please hold yourapplause until the end of the piece,” the audience applauded after each movement. Didn’t I say that they wereenthusiastic? And well they might be- a large part of the audience was made up of family and friends of the choral singers who came from far and wide to perform in this concert. Throughout this work, and during the rest of the concert, the choruses sang beautifully. All three choruses produced a lovely sound and sang with perfect intonation. My only reservation had to do with their diction. I could understand the words they were singing only when they sang Christmas Carols with which I was acquainted. Final consonants were especially unclear. This is often a problem with large choruses. The Distinguished Concerts Orchestra played with the high level of technical skill and fine musicianship one has grown to expect from this excellent ensemble. After intermission, we heard Sing Christmas! by Mary McDonald and Joel Raney, a forty-two-minute composition consisting of four Suites with three movements in each. Again, the composers served as conductor (Ms. McDonald) and pianist (Mr. Raney.) The second movement of the Suite II, Sing Noel!, stood out with its syncopated Jamaican rhythm and flavor. The third movement, Tell Out, My Soul!, featured soprano Sarah Holloway and baritone David John Hailey. As in many other works on this concert, Sing Christmas! incorporated traditional Christmas carols and songs in the newly composed compositions. I did question the strange harmonization of the simplest of carols, Silent Night, in Suite III’s second movement, and of the 6/8 arrangements of four carols in Suite IV’s last movement. I found the latter jarring.

After a rather long pause, we heard the evening’s final work, composer and conductor Joseph M. Martin’s Christmas Evergreens. Of course, when seeing this title, one immediately thinks of pine trees. But a clarifying note by Mr. Martin states “Christmas Evergreens is a menagerie of classic and best-selling holiday songs to set hearts jingling with joy and Christmas spirit.” Thesaurus synonyms for evergreen include ageless, classic, ever popular, immortal, and old time favorite. The few “best-selling holiday songs” in Mr. Martin’s composition really do not fit the definition of “evergreen,” or of its synonyms, and the mention of “best-selling” highlights the unfortunate commercialization of this religious holiday. A better phrase might have been “newly composed.” It is possible that, in the future, these works may become “evergreens.” I will choose one of the afore mentioned synonyms to say that Mr. Martin often cleverly combined “ever popular” melodies in one of the evenings few uses of polyphony.

The conclusion of the concert was met by long and heartfelt applause. It was well deserved. There are few things more exciting than the sound of large amateur choruses. Tonight’s choruses were well prepared back home by their many conductors and sang with great skill and enthusiasm under tonight’s two directors. They had the opportunity to sing in one of the world’s great concert halls, and they, their family and friends got a chance to visit one of the world’s greatest cities. Thanks to DCINY for making this possible.

by Harry Saltzman for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Vissi D’arte management presents Tamara Radjenović and Djordje Nesić in Review

Tamara Radjenović, soprano; Djordje Stevan Nesić, piano

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 9, 2019

On November 9^th the twenty-four-year-old Montenegrin soprano Tamara Radjenović, accompanied by Djordje Nesić, gave an unusual and rather uneven recital of mostly opera arias. When I saw the printed program, I was taken aback. I asked the usher where the texts and translations were. “This is all there is,” I was told. It is considered a given that at vocal recitals the texts and translations of all the songs on the program are distributed along with the program. I personally think that this should be the case even when the songs are in English, but not to do so for songs in a foreign language is unacceptable. In addition, we are usually supplied with program notes, which were missing. Ms. Radjenović’s biography was full of grammatical errors and awkward wording.

The program listed the first song as Sposa son disprezzata by Vivaldi. No information was given about the opera in which the aria appears. My investigation revealed that it is part of a pasticcio (an opera consisting of music by many composers) compiled by Vivaldi and entitled Bajazet. A Wikipedia article states that Sposa son disprezzata was composed by Geminiano Giacomelli for his opera Merope. However, another source claims the composer was Francesco Gasparini. In any case, it was not by Vivaldi! I found this aria to be a surprising choice for the beginning of a recital, as one usually begins with something easily singable. Sposa son disprezzata, a slow and tragic aria sung by an abandoned wife, places great demands on breath control and dynamic contrast. Ms. Radjenović, a talented actor, was dramatically convincing. The vocal challenges, however, were somewhat beyond her.

The next selection was “Deh vieni non tardar” from Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro. This popular aria is well suited to Ms. Radjenović’s charming persona and youthful voice. The next two arias, Prendi, per me se libero from L’eliser d’amore by Donizetti and O! quante volte from Bellini’s I Capulete e i Montecchi, are well-known soprano warhorses, perhaps somewhat overly ambitious for the young Ms. Radjenović. There followed a pleasant and soothing rendition of Chopin’s Nocturne No. 20 in C-sharp minor played by Mr. Nesić.

After intermission, Ms. Radjenović performed Quando me’n vo, from Puccini’s La Boheme. As her appearance suits this role, one could easily imagine her being cast in it at some future point. After all these operatic arias, this listener was glad to hear four works actually written for voice with piano accompaniment. The first three were by the Spanish composers Fernando Obradors and Joaquin Rodrigo. The last of the set, L’énamourée, by Reynaldo Hahn with its lovely simplicity, was particularly effective. Which brings me to my main reservation about this concert. Opera is the very most demanding technically of all vocal music. It demands that one’s vocal technique be fully in place. This is rarely the case when one is twenty-four years old. Even the most experienced opera singers, when giving a vocal recital, usually concentrate on music written originally for voice and piano. It is my opinion that Ms. Radjenović would have more success in performing art songs carefully selected to showcase her artistry as it now stands. Her present accomplishments are not slight. She imparts sincerity, vulnerability and true loveliness of sound in her middle range.

After the Hahn selection, Mr. Nesić continued in the soothing French realm with a beautiful rendition of Debussy’s Clair de Lune. The concert ended with a lively rendition of Je veux vivre from Gounod’s Romeo et Juliette. In response to a standing ovation, her encore was a lively rendition of Luigi Arditi’s waltz song “Il Bacio.”

by Barrett Cobb for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

An die Musik in Review

Constance Emmerich, Founder/piano; Mark Peskanov, violin; Nicholas Mann, viola;Thomas Demenga, cello; Robert Ingliss, oboe

Merkin Concert Hall, Kaufman Music Center, New York, NY

November 10, 2019

It seems almost impossible that forty-three (!) years ago, pianist Constance Emmerich founded a chamber ensemble called An die Musik (German: To Music, after the title of one of Schubert’s best-loved songs). The instrumentation of oboe, string trio, and piano permits a wide variety of program choices and sonorous variety. And here they are still (with a few changes of personnel along the way), playing to a sold-out house of admirers. This group of musicians has what I will dare to call “musical charisma,” in contrast to the “superstar” assemblages of big-name virtuosi who barely know each other and lack sufficient time to rehearse, playing on the same stage at the same time but without true collegiality. An die Musik is diametrically opposed to that, although its components are no slouches in the virtuoso department.

You know you’re at a conservatively programmed event when the outlier is Britten from 1951. Nevertheless, An die Musik’s enthusiastic, if somewhat elderly, following lapped it up, uttering great, deserved cheers. The players currently on the roster all have impressive pedigrees in contemporary music, and the ensemble has a wonderful list of commissions and adventurous programming—it might have been nice to hear some of that. I also would have liked to hear the oboe playing with the strings, and more piano-inclusive ensemble works.

The concert opened with an excerpt from one of Haydn’s great piano trios, the one in F-Sharp minor, Hob. XV/26, the same tonality as his “Farewell” symphony. But why play just the Adagio, beautiful as it is? Taken out of context, we lose the sense of an oasis between two extremely active, almost frantic movements. The Adagio is an unusual instance of self-borrowing in Haydn’s output, the melody having already appeared in his Symphony No. 102 in B-flat major from 1794. The mellow sonorities of the three players were a marvel, and their harmonic sensitivity was keen.

This was followed by the Bach/Marcello Adagio from BWV 974, played by cello and piano, from a keyboard transcription by Bach of an oboe concerto by Marcello. Although I am no youngster, I felt strangely hip in recognizing that the movement figured large in the 2015 soft-core film Fifty Shades of Grey. Thus, as rhapsodically played as it was by the superb Thomas Demenga on cello, with beautiful cushioned chords provided by Ms. Emmerich, it had for me an erotic subtext.

The concert continued with an excellent performance of a rarity, Benjamin Britten’s Six Metamorphoses After Ovid, for solo oboe, Op. 29 (1951). These brief programmatic works purport to illustrate six of the transformations in Ovid’s retelling of classic Greek myths: Pan, Phaeton, Niobe, Bacchus, Narcissus, and Arethusa. Somehow I think that if one didn’t know the titles, it wouldn’t matter, perhaps a good indicator for any “program” music. Robert Ingliss, the oboist, had great control, and Britten allows the listener to follow the thread by masterfully “metamorphosing” the opening melodic gambit of each movement with subtly developing variations upon each repetition. Even the perky moments are predominantly lyrical, sometimes ending with quizzical stops.

The first half concluded with a guaranteed barn-burner: the Handel/Halvorsen Passacaglia for violin and cello, another transcription, this time from a harpsichord suite by Handel. Mark Peskanov, violin, and Mr. Derenga reveled in its every complicated virtuoso turn with great characterization and collegial wit.

After intermission came the major work of the evening, Beethoven’s String Trio in G major, Op. 9 No. 1. A relatively early work (1797/98), it exhausts the possibilities of motivic development based on the interval of the third, even extending to the key relationship between the slow movement and the other three movements. Mr. Peskanov and Mr. Derenga were joined by the wonderful violist Nicholas Mann. Their phrasing and articulation were incandescent.

It is well known that Beethoven used to take long walks in the forests and countryside for inspiration, often with a sketchbook or at least some paper. He’d return to some of his motivic ideas obsessively, over a period of many years, even decades. I was able to hear that the opening theme of the Allegro in the first movement relates exactly (transposed) to the closing theme of the finale of his Piano Trio, Op. 1 No. 1. Also, the third movement, Scherzo, of this String Trio has a motto that will become the “Muss es sein?” (Must it be?) of his final string quartet, Op. 135! The excitement of the Presto conclusion was palpable.

There’s only one An die Musik concert in New York next year. A word to the wise: get your ticket(s).

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

Lynn Spurgat in Review

Lynn Spurgat,soprano; Jason Wirth, piano

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 5, 2019

I can’t remember a concert that provided as much sheer fun as did the recital performed by Lynn Spurgat and Jason Wirth on November 5 in Zankel Hall. Ms. Spurgat loves nothing better than to have a good time and will spare no effort to assure that her listeners do too. No wonder she draws such large audiences! (See her review from last year in this publication-Lynn Spurgat in Review May 2, 2018) Along with the merriment was fine music-making and tonal beauty. Lynn Spurgat possesses a voice lined with velvet and a charming stage presence.

The program presented five sets of songs, each in a different language. We heard Italian, Russian, French, Spanish, and German. Four selections from Rossini’s Soirees Musicales began the program. Singers often like to begin a recital singing in Italian, as its vowel sounds are highly compatible with vocal production and get the voice into its “groove.” Probably due to nerves, a few of the pitches in the fast arpeggiated passages of the first song “La Pastorella dell’Alpi” were slightly off. Soon, however, Ms. Spurgat’s voice settled in. By the last song, “La Danza” the good times were rolling. This well-known song is a tarantella, whose words exhort people to dance. As the tempo accelerates it becomes increasingly excited. At the end are the words frinche, frinche, (faster, faster) and finally Mamma mia, si saltera (saltera means “will jump”). Ms. Spurgat milked it for all it was worth, raising her arms above her head at the end. The audience laughed and cheered. I hate to throw a wet blanket on such happiness, but I feel I must. After every song in the concert (with one exception – more about that later) the audience applauded. I understand this impulse, of course, but it really should be thwarted. We don’t pay money to listen to sound of clapping. The majority of concert-goers know to wait until the end of the set, but in this matter the minority wins out every time. Let’s start a movement to print the words “Please hold your applause until the end of each set of songs” in a prominent position on the program. Thomas Quasthoff used to make this request from the stage, to my delight.

The rest of the first half was devoted to six songs by Rachmaninoff. What a treat to hear these beautiful works. In this country conservatories make sure that singers are well versed in Italian, French, German, Latin, and sometimes Spanish. Even English diction must be studied. In addition a singer must acquire acting and presentation skills – movement and gesture. Most important, of course, are vocal and general musical skills. Performing the music of Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, and Prokofiev, et al. is no problem for instrumentalists, but for a singer it is a entirely different matter. There just isn’t time to do everything and learning Russian is no easy task. For this reason, the great Russian song repertoire is unjustly neglected by American singers. Her sumptuous voice sounded beautiful and her phrasing was just right for these passionate melodies.

I couldn’t wait for intermission to end to find out what new surprises lay in store. They weren’t long in coming. The audience gasped and applauded when Ms. Spurgat swept onto the stage in a different (and equally beautiful) gown, from the one she wore for the first half. This is common practice among divas, and I applaud it. The visual aspect of a concert is extremely important and having a new beauty upon which to rest the eyes is a joy. But this wasn’t all! Behind Ms. Spurgat came Mr. Wirth, looking dapper in a pink shirt and, as I recall, a vest and bow tie. Hurrah for sartorial equality! As they bowed together, the audience and performers shared a moment of happy laughter at this latest surprise.

Poulenc’s popular and frequently performed Banalités began the second half. Ms. Spurgat made the most of the rather broad Dada comedy of these pieces without crossing the line into over-acting. The fifth song of the set, “Sanglot,” (Sobs) is entirely different. It is full of genuine pathos and tragedy. The contrast with the silliness which precede it made it all the more heart-rending.

After the Poulenc we traveled to Argentina for Cinco Canciones Populares Argentinas by Ginastera. These songs, composed in the midst of political unrest in 1943, make wide use of folk elements and simple melodies, with dance, so often an element in the music of Latin America often stepping to the fore.

For the last set Ms. Spurgat and Mr. Wirth were joined by a chamber ensemble consisting of viola, flute (doubling on piccolo,) trumpet and percussion. Schoenberg’s Cabaret Songs were written in 1901, before his embrace of serialism. Unlike his later works, they are completely tonal and immediately accessible. They were arranged for this ensemble by Colin Britt. Mr. Wirth conducted from the piano. These songs gave Ms. Spurgat opportunities to make use of her well-managed chest voice. During “Bum, bum” of Langsamer Waltzer, she almost levitated. The audience began to applaud, but was shushed by a drum roll which segued into the last song. As soon as it ended, they sprang to their feet, clapping and whooping. I was the one lonely soul shouting the antiquated bravi.

I have spoken a great deal about Ms. Spurgat and now I must say some words about Jason Wirth. I have heard Mr. Wirth on several occasions and have always been highly impressed. He is a first-rate pianist, a musician of depth and knowledge, and a generous collaborator. A lively encore brought this entertaining evening to a happy close.

by Barrett Cobb for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

The Hilton Head International Piano Competition presents 2019 First Prize Winner Chaeyoung Park in Review

Chaeyoung Park, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 27, 2019

A day of heavy windswept rain gave way to a lovely sunset, which seemed a symbol for the impressive, successful award recital by Chaeyoung Park, the latest first prize winner of the prestigious Hilton Head International Piano Competition. Only 22, Ms. Park (currently a Juilliard student) has already had numerous successes in the important competition scene, and appears regularly with orchestra and in chamber music.

Ms. Park’s program was thoughtful, focusing on rarely heard items—not the standard “debut” fare. The second half provided one repertory staple, to be discussed below. Her strengths, as shown on Sunday night, are: a refined ear for piano color, excellent use of pedaling to create sophisticated mixes of sound, total concentration, rock-steady technical means, and not a single note played without thought and feeling, while remaining spontaneous.

She opened with four pieces from Gyögy Ligeti’s Musica ricercata (1951/53, premiered 1969), that systematic exploration (ricercare: seeking) of every possibility for a work based on just one note (until the end), then two, then three, etc., until the eleventh piece gives us all twelve notes. It was banned from performance by the Soviets in the 1950s as too radical. Ms. Park chose two lively and two introspective pieces from the set, including the mournful memorial to Ligeti’s fellow countryman Béla Bartók, which connected nicely with the final work on the first half (see below). Her rendering of the fourth piece, a limping waltz “on a barrel organ” even seemed to relate to the Ravel that followed. In these brief but accessible works, Park immediately displayed her great personality, a characteristic that defined the whole night.

Following that, Ravel’s Valses nobles et sentimentales (1911), a set of seven waltzes plus a nostalgic epilogue, was given a bold reading whose only fault was excessive rubato. This work, which meant a great deal to Ravel personally, has a score that abounds in descriptive terms such as avec une expression intense, très expressif, and even the dreaded word rubato. The trick is, however, to apply these nuances in two ways: 1) Only where indicated, and 2) Minimally. Henriette Faure, a pianist who was the first ever to present Ravel’s complete piano music in Paris in the early 1920s, and who was coached by the composer, relates what a “frightful burden” it was to work on these waltzes in particular with Ravel, that he was a “human metronome.” For some reason, Ms. Park omitted the obligatory repeat of the second section of waltz no. 4. Nevertheless, Ms. Park’s conviction carried the work. The seventh waltz, which Ravel regarded as the most characteristically Viennese, and the Epilogue were both ravishing.

The first half concluded with Bartók’s suite Out of Doors (1926), which Ms. Park admirably describes as “a recreation of the natural world, raw and undecorated.” Her ability to create sonic atmosphere at the keyboard was fully realized here, especially in the haunting evocation of nighttime in the fourth movement. She had the knack of organizing all of Bartók’s material into compelling emotion-containing phrases and groups. The score makes fierce demands dynamically, and I urge Ms. Park to consult the many recordings that the composer, a virtuoso pianist, made of his own works. Even when fortissimo is called for, he never sounds percussive. Some of her big dynamics were overplayed, though they were always part of her complete emotional commitment. This is not a “careful” competition winner, and Hilton Head is to be commended for consistently choosing such fine musicians.

After intermission came Brahms’ monumental Piano Sonata No. 3 in F minor, Op. 5. This five-movement work strains at the boundaries of what a lone piano/pianist can do, so symphonic are its textures. Here, all of Ms. Park’s strengths were audible, especially a wonderful feeling for expansion, a stretching of the line for emotional heightening, and a mature ability to take her time. The slow movement is prefaced by several lines of romantic poetry that speak of “two hearts united in love,” and the entire sonata seems to speak of the many dimensions of that relation, including its demise. Perhaps for endurance’s sake, Ms. Park omitted the exposition repeat in the first movement, which “Brahms the classicist” would not have liked; though she did do the slow movement’s repeat of its first theme. Ms. Park was at her very best in the introspective “as softly and tenderly as possible” moments of the work, and the Intermezzo, subtitled a Rückblick (a look back), even showed Brahms as a proto-Impressionist. Ms. Park’s virtuosity was exciting as the fifth movement whirled to its huge close.

After a well-deserved standing ovation, Ms. Park favored the audience with a sweet encore by Gershwin/Wild: “Embraceable You,” which was played with exquisite voicing, subtlety, and an elegance that Earl Wild would surely have enjoyed.

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

Wa Concert Series presents Memory and the Expressiveness of Time in Review

Charles Neidich, clarinet; Vera Beths, violin; Mohamed Shams, piano

Friday, October 20, 2019 at 7:30pm

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

Wa Concerts, held at the Tenri Cultural Institute, are unique in their pairing of performances at the highest level with insightful musical and philosophical themes, all in an intimate environment that allows the audience to connect with the artists (and to enjoy gourmet offerings throughout the evening). For those of us lucky listeners who have been to one or more of these concerts, we may be getting spoiled, but the revelations continue.

Sunday’s concert, entitled “Memory and the Expressiveness of Time” was one such revelatory program. Its theme could have also related to Austria (with one lone work by German composer Sigfrid Karg-Elert) because most of the program was devoted to the Second Viennese School of music, Schoenberg, Berg, and Webern, with some Schubert representing the retronymic “First” Viennese School. As things stood, though, the chosen title drew the listener into what one could regard as a sort of expressionistic funhouse, each work inspiring meditation on music’s relation to time in intriguing ways.

Introductory comments from Charles Neidich (in his capacity as Director and curator of the Wa series) made reference to the fact that music exists in time, thus establishing the foundation for a program replete with more than the usual temporal illusions and memory manipulations, with phrases and structures appearing compressed, expanded, in retrograde, as palindromes, and so on. One could try to paraphrase, but one might risk doing a disservice to Mr. Neidich’s eloquence, not to mention growing dizzy in the effort! Suffice it to say that, once one has meditated on these phenomena, one listens rather differently.

The concert itself was superbly performed by the three featured musicians, clarinetist Charles Neidich, violinist Vera Beths, and pianist Mohamed Shams. The music began with Berg’s Vier Stücke, Op. 5, for clarinet and piano, played by Mr. Neidich with Mr. Shams at the piano. The duo captured these remarkable miniatures with vivid expressiveness and cohesion. Mr. Neidich, as ever, was one with the music in ways that impress it indelibly upon “the mind’s ear.” Mr. Shams, new to this reviewer, was simply outstanding throughout the evening in a string of wide-ranging challenges. He hails from Egypt, having studied in Cairo, then at the Royal Conservatory of Music in Scotland and the Manhattan School of Music, and he is currently on the faculty of the Hartt School of Music. He has performed widely as soloist and chamber musician and has been winner of numerous distinctions; his greatest distinction, however, is his playing itself, and what this reviewer heard from him reflected keen intellect, sensitivity, and commitment – all of which should keep him much in demand in contemporary music circles.

Schubert’s Violin Sonata in A Major, D. 574 followed, featuring violinist Vera Beths in collaboration with Mr. Shams. Ms. Beths is a veteran of the international music scene, with a particularly strong background in contemporary music. She has premiered many violin concerti, including Isang Yun’s Third Violin Concerto and has collaborated as soloist with numerous distinguished conductors including Haitink, Kondrashin, and Maazel. She is currently Professor at The Royal Conservatory at The Hague and the Sweelinck Academy in Amsterdam and leads the prizewinning period instrument ensemble L’Archibudelli. Though her background certainly prepared one for her excellence in the Berg Kammerkonzert which closed the program, one was struck by her gracious ease in this sublime Schubert work. Of course, music is music, but not every violinist can move so seamlessly from the world of Schoenberg’s school to the music of Schubert – described by Schumann and Stravinsky in heavenly terms, as Mr. Neidich reminded us. The juxtaposition of the early and late Viennese styles was inspired, setting off Schubert’s particular elegance and pacing, and there was a beautiful conversational fluency between Ms. Beths and Mr. Shams.

After intermission we heard Webern’s very famous Variations, Op. 27 played by Mr. Shams. With acute focus and exceptional control, he played from memory, projecting this work’s concise expressiveness to a tee. One marveled at his grasp of this difficult music, but also at the accordion-like flexibility of musical time, as projected from composer to composer.

As if one needed still more food for thought, we heard a composer from the same era, Sigfrid Karg-Elert (1877 – 1933), a student of Reinecke and largely known through works for organ and harmonium. Mr Neidich played his Sonata for Solo Clarinet Op. 110 and it was an extraordinary journey. Mr. Neidich draws a kaleidoscope of sounds from his clarinet, rendering each sound memorable in a way that is essential if one wants the listener to note interval patterns, for example the opening fifths and seconds that recur and appear in retrograde, and so on. It is always interesting to contemplate the role of memory in music, but first comes the act of making it memorable. It was.

The concert closed with Berg’s Adagio from the Kammerkonzert für Klavier und Geige mit 13 Bläsern (Chamber Concerto for Piano and Violin with 13 Wind Instruments), composed in 1925. The Adagio from it was arranged as a separate piece for trio by the composer and was premiered in 1927. The evening’s performers shone in the works expansively expressive gestures and phrases, and one was left wanting to hear it all again and meditate for several more hours. Bravi tutti!

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

A Carnegie Hall Premiere, 102 years late: Carnegie Hall Presents Marc-André Hamelin in Review

Marc-André Hamelin, piano

Tuesday, October 22, 2019 at 8pm

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Saying that Marc-André Hamelin played an amazing concert is like saying water is wet –how does one make that sound like news? It simply cannot be a shock to anyone to hear that his Tuesday night recital at Carnegie Hall, including works of Scriabin, Prokofiev, Samuil Feinberg, and Schubert, was yet another tour de force, but it was astonishing in new ways.

Mr. Hamelin still handles unthinkable pianistic and musical challenges with the sangfroid of a neurosurgeon and the inexplicable ease of a wizard; however, for those still pigeonholing him as the pioneer of barely-known or barely-playable works, he is clearly much more than that, as one felt powerfully in his Schubert Sonata in B-flat major (D. 960) which closed the program. For the record, Mr. Hamelin has by now performed as much standard repertoire as non-standard – perhaps more – but reputations are slow to change. Fortunately, standard vs. non-standard is not an either-or proposition, and the combination of well-loved mainstream repertoire with discovery and rediscovery was one of the special beauties of Tuesday’s program.

This reviewer has for almost thirty years been grateful for performances and recordings by Mr. Hamelin, sometimes the only ones available for certain works, and though his biography modestly states that he has recorded a “broad range of repertoire” the word “broad” doesn’t begin to convey the encyclopedic range of his more than sixty albums (starting with letter A for Alkan). We had a prime example of such championing on Tuesday, with the Sonata No. 3 (1916-17) by Russian composer-pianist Samuil Feinberg (1890-1962).

Feinberg’s sonatas draw upon formidable pianistic skill, contrapuntal mastery, and a wildly adventurous tonal imagination, yet his music suffered delayed exposure in the West, as with many other Soviet composers. Even amid the pianistic bounty that is New York, Feinberg Sonata “sightings” are still rare, with the Sonata No. 3 being the rarest. So rare is the latter, in fact, that this evening marked the Carnegie Hall premiere of the Sonata No. 3, as noted in the program. Though the Sonata No. 3 was composed during World War I, it was not published until 1974, twelve years after Feinberg’s death, and beyond matters of the score, the demands on the performer are immense. Demands on the listener are considerable as well, and so even this reviewer, a Feinberg admirer (and owner of scores to all of Feinberg’s sonatas except No. 3), had trouble assimilating its sprawling scope. If Scriabin’s sonatas run the gamut from romantic outpourings to the rantings of a madman, Feinberg’s do similarly, but with added digressions, reiterations, elaborations, and intricacies of texture – and just when one thinks it has all reached a saturation point, a fugue gets thrown into the last movement! Some of it is frankly overwhelming, but the many glorious moments – including some Medtneresque patches of heaven – tell one it must be reheard, and probably by this same pianist – one looks forward to that. Complete love at first hearing is a lot to ask with such a work, but one can only be grateful to have heard it first from such an exceptional musician. It was a fitting climax to close the first half, which opened with Scriabin’s poetic Fantasy in B minor, Op. 28, given an unusually gentle unfolding, followed by Prokofiev’s biting Sarcasms, Op. 17, shot with perfect, jolting attacks.

A second half completely devoted to Schubert’s Sonata in B-flat Major, D. 960, was a dream come true after the tortuous complexity of Feinberg, and Mr. Hamelin blessed it with a patient reverence well suited to its autumnal place, from late in Schubert’s brief life. Some of it (naturally the second movement Andante Sostenuto) was glacially slow, probably slower than some are accustomed to hearing it, but this reviewer loved it, as did many Care was taken to achieve myriad gradations of sound down to the faintest pianissimo, and wonderful individual touches emerged. Especially wonderful was a seemingly improvisatory quality, as if the pianist were capturing the very moment of decision where the composer took a familiar beginning of a phrase into a new direction. Such moments are among the reasons why, even with miraculous recordings (and Mr. Hamelin did record this for Hyperion in 2018), we still need live performances.

Ardent fans brought the pianist back for three encores. We heard Fauré’s unjustly neglected Barcarolle No. 3, which positively glittered, followed by Debussy’s sixth Prelude from Book II, Général Lavine – eccentric, with all its jaunty quirks accentuated perfectly, and finally Mr. Hamelin’s own composition Music Box. Awash with pedal in a delicate haze of treble patterns – with just a smattering of piquant dissonance – it created an effect similar to that of Liadov’s Musical Snuffbox and other bonbons favored by the early twentieth century’s “Golden Age” pianists. It was good to see that spirit living on, including through such charming miniatures. Mr. Hamelin has certainly earned his place among the titans.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Loralee Songer in Review

LORALEE SONGER, MEZZO-SOPRANO; PERRY MEARS, PIANO

WEILL RECITAL HALL AT CARNEGIE HALL, NEW YORK, NY

OCTOBER 19, 2019

This recital by mezzo-soprano Loralee Songer featured individual songs and song cycles by six living female composers, set to texts by nine female poets. The styles of the songs varied from pop to somewhat dissonant 20^th century norms. The skillful accompanist was Perry Mears. The printed program had one unusual feature, in that after each song title its duration was written. I can therefore state that there was thirty minutes of music on the first half and twenty-eight minutes after intermission.

The program began with two short songs, music by Lucy Simon and text by Marsha Norman, from their 1989 adaptation of Frances Hodgsen Burnett’s The Secret Garden. If I describe these songs as pop music, I am not using “pop” as a pejorative term. For me it describes music that is, amongst other things, undemanding and uncomplicated. Although it certainly was attention grabbing, I wonder why Ms. Songer chose to make her first sounds a scooping cry and not regular pitches. I listened to other renditions of If I Had a Fine White Horse and all singers began with recognizable pitches. As the audience applauded after the song’s conclusion, I worried that there would be applause after every song. Although I have nothing against an audience showing their enthusiastic appreciation, I would suggest that in future recitals Ms. Songer include in the printed program a request that the audience withhold their applause until the end of each set.

The performers then left the stage, something that is often done after the first set to allow latecomers to be seated. What I found unusual was that the performers left the stage between all of the (mostly short) sets. They returned to perform Lori Laitman’s setting of three poems by Emily Dickinson. The accompaniments of these works were slightly more dissonant than those of the previous set. Ms. Songer has a very bright voice which doesn’t sound very mezzo-like, and when she did sing in the lower register, it was quite weak.

Libby Larsen, whose music we heard next, was the only one of the six composers on the program whose name I recognized. Her song cycle, Love After 1950, was written in 2000 for the mezzo-soprano Susan Mentzer. I wondered what “after 1950” meant. Could it have referred to the year of Ms. Larsen’s birth? It was the first of two cycles on this program whose texts dealt with woman’s difficulties in the “battlefield of love.” The music of each of the six songs was written in a different musical style including blues, cocktail piano, honky-tonk, and tango. Yes, I know that’s only five styles – Ms. Larsen’s website didn’t give a musical style for the last song.

The first half ended with One Perfect Rose, a short three-minute song with music by Emma Lou Diemer and words by Dorothy Parker. This was one of the works on the recital which had, as the program notes stated, a simple yet varied accompaniment that allows the words to shine. However, many of the other works had very complicated accompaniments, which pianist Perry Mears played with clarity and ease.

The second half began with the U.S. premiere of Godiva, music by Juliana Hall, text by Caitlin Vincent. While the first half of tonight’s recital was performed by memory, this and the following work were performed on book. For the first time in the evening I had trouble understanding the words. This was anomalous in that Ms. Songer’s diction during the first half was clarity personified, made obvious by the audience’s laughter at the comical portions of the text.

The recital concluded with the world premiere of tonight’s longest work, Little Black Book, with music by Susan LaBarr and text by Caitlin Vincent, which is described in the program notes as one that “highlights the struggle to find love in the digital age.” Directly below the work’s title in the program proper was printed “a song cycle that fails the Bechdel Test.” As the program notes did not explain anything about the Bechdel Test, I went to the internet and found on Wikipedia: “The Bechdel Test is a measure of the representation of women in fiction. It asks whether a work features at least two women who talk to each other about something other than a man.” I also found that it is most often used in analyzing the portrayal of women in movies. And yes, as the program notes stated that these songs dealt with both Ms. Songer’s and Ms. Vincent’s romantic histories, the terms of the Bechdel test were certainly not met. The audience found many of the six songs very funny.

Throughout the concert, Ms. Songer sang with commitment, fine diction, and stylistic awareness. The audience agreed and, at the recital’s conclusion, showered Ms. Songer and Mr. Mears with tumultuous applause and the vociferous “woo-woo” sound which seems to have replaced “bravo” with contemporary audiences.

by Harry Saltzman for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

An Interview with composer Gustavo Díaz-Jerez

Maghek: Seven Symphonic Poems about the Canary Islands

In 2016 this reviewer had the pleasure of reviewing a superb video recording of the complete Iberia of Albeniz for New York Concert Review, played by pianist Gustavo Díaz-Jerez (https://nyconcertreview.com/reviews/dvd-in-review-pianist-gustavo-diaz-jerez-plays-iberia-by-isaac-albeniz/). As it was a performer’s review, one neglected to mention the fact that his career as a composer was thriving as well. His compositions have in fact been heard throughout Europe performed by distinguished instrumentalists, conductors, and orchestras in Spain, Slovenia, Italy, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Hungary – and one is probably omitting several countries.

Currently Mr. Díaz-Jerez is awaiting the release on Signum Classics of his double CD recording, Maghek: Seven Symphonic Poems about the Canary Islands, with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra – arguably one of the finest orchestras in Europe – under conductor Eduardo Portal. Mr. Díaz-Jerez took time out from his busy schedule recently to speak (via Skype) with New York Concert Review. Prior to our interview, he summarized some key points about the cycle as follows:

“The main idea about the cycle Maghek (this is how the Canary Islands aborigines called the Sun-goddess) is a personal evocation of the natural environment of the Canary Islands, conveyed (somewhat oneirically) to sound. For inspiration, I have focused in particular places in each island as well as in specific historical facts. Of course, there are many common elements among the seven works. I have a very strong scientific background, especially in mathematics. I think music and mathematics are very closely related, and to me the idea of “abstract” beauty is common to both. I’m also very fond of the concept of “emergence”: the idea that a complex system is more than the mere sum of its constituent parts. This phenomenon is seen all over the natural world, and it’s even present in pure mathematics. I like to think of my pieces much like living organisms, complex, emergent structures that arise from the sum of many, carefully intertwined, simpler parts. I’m also a computer programmer. I created some time ago a program (FractMus) that translates mathematical structures into musical material you can use for composition. Here is a link if you are interested: www.fractmus.com”

Rorianne Schrade for New York Concert Review:

Thank you – this is all so interesting! Now to start, I would love to hear about your recording sessions in Glasgow.

Gustavo Díaz-Jerez:

Right, it was last week. Well, this project has been going on for ten years actually, because the first of the pieces I composed is called Aranfaybo … it’s inspired by the island of El Hierro. That was composed in 2008, and that was the one performed in ten European countries. It was a tour with the Hungarian Chamber Orchestra. So that was one, and then, when I composed the piece, I thought well maybe I can write one orchestral piece for – inspired by – every island [for those unfamiliar with the Canary Islands, there are seven, including Tenerife, the birthplace of Mr. Díaz-Jerez].

NYCR: Wonderful …

G D-J: So, the second one was Ymarxa … and that was premiered by the Royal Philharmonic, Charles Dutoit conducting. And then every year after that I composed one of them, well more or less. Some of them are longer than the others.

The shortest one is Aranfaybo which is thirteen minutes, and the longest one is a piano concerto, which is one of the newer ones, which is about twenty-five minutes. One of them is a clarinet concerto called Ayssuragan, with my friend Cristo Barrios, who recorded the piece in Glasgow. And the other one is a piano concerto … I wrote it for a friend of mine who is a pianist specializing in contemporary repertoire. He is a Spanish pianist, Ricardo Descalzo.

Both the clarinet concerto and the piano concerto are not pieces thought of as the Romantic kind of concerto for soloists. They’re actually like orchestral pieces where the soloist is kind of part of the orchestra but has a very important role by itself.

Since I am a pianist myself, I was very concerned with the difficulty of the piece, because I think the problem with many contemporary piano solo concerti, in general, is that they are usually very, very difficult to play, to rehearse, to perform. So, I was very concerned with that.

You know de Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain?

NYCR: Yes.

G D-J: That’s my idea of the piece, a piece which is more concertante than Rachmaninoff or Brahms. It’s very playable. It’s not so difficult that non-contemporary specialists would say no. Any pianist would be able to enjoy and play it.

NYCR: Good!

G D-J: Although there are some extended techniques inside the piano. Everything is written from the perspective of the performer … everything. Not only the piano part but the orchestral part. I think that’s very important nowadays, because, you know if you see the programming 95% is music from the past, from the nineteenth century, eighteenth century. And very little contemporary music is done in my opinion. And there must be a reason.

One of the reasons I think is that the amount of effort that needs to be put into it to rehearse and to learn the music is greater than the music of the past. And it’s maybe because every composer was also a performer. I think that makes a big difference. Not all contemporary music is difficult to perform but many pieces are, so I wanted to make sure that my pieces are as easy to rehearse and play …

NYCR: and idiomatic?

G D-J: yes, they are written very ergonomically for the instruments. And that was something I learned in the recording.

The orchestra is absolutely unbelievable. Their reading is hard to believe. They read it at sight… I mean I sent the scores like three months in advance, but they are capable of reading it almost at sight. I’m not saying they did but … (laughs) it’s unbelievable. I mean, there are seven pieces, the total is like 140 minutes of music…

NYCR: and how many hours of recording did you have with them?

G D-J: We had eight sessions of three hours with a twenty-minute pause in each one…so that’s about I would say twenty-two hours more or less … so, basically the plan was that they play the piece from beginning to end, and they did it so well that I think it would be good for a concert. They played the piece through, and it was already at such a high level, that … (laughing) I was really amazed.

NYCR: And were there any surprises?

G D-J: Yes, especially in the newer pieces, in the ones that haven’t been performed, I found out that certain things didn’t work as I expected in terms of balance. That’s the most difficult thing for a composer. You know even Mozart had to change some things in the Jupiter Symphony. Once he heard the piece, he had to adjust some of the dynamics of the instruments. So that was kind of a surprise. Some things, I thought they would be too soft for instance. I tend to write the harp part a little bit louder …and the harpist had such a big sound that I had to tell her, you know, just a few dynamic markings less. But in general [with] everything I’m very, very happy, because everything in general worked as I expected.

NYCR: And do you envision it all (the entire two-and-a-half-hour cycle) being done in a concert at some point, or …

G D-J: Well, it’s a possibility, but I think it would be kind of too much of the same composer in one concert. Our idea is to have several orchestras play one of the pieces. We are working on that here in Spain and possibly also abroad in the UK… or maybe two of them.

NYCR: I see. When we’re talking about difficulty for the musicians, I want to bring up difficulty for the audience in terms of understanding. Now imagine I’m a five-year-old, and I hear something about fractals and L-systems in your music, and I say what’s that? How would you explain the music to a five-year-old?

G D-J: (laughs) That’s a hard question really. Well, you know, you have to be very poetic. When you are speaking to people who don’t know … I mean they don’t really have to know what’s going on underground to enjoy the music.

I would say these things I use, mathematical procedures, are really just like a scaffolding. It’s a way I use to get raw musical material, like prime matter, musical prime matter. I think of it as a painter or a sculptor, for instance clay or iron or granite, whatever… In itself it’s not a work of art… but it’s what you do with it.

NYCR: It’s a medium.

G D-J: Material, exactly. So that mathematical underpinning is just a medium. And what that gives me are structures, musical structures, because what I do is: I take those mathematical procedures, and I make a correspondence with the musical language.

So those structures which are coherent – they are not random, of course – they have coherency – they are translated to the musical language, and that becomes a medium. That in itself is not a work of art. The material is melodies, rhythms, forms … and I take them, and I make them into the timeline of the work of art.

It’s like, you know, Beethoven, the beginning of the solo of the Third Concerto, you know the scale, the C minor scale. In itself, the scale is just a scale. But when Beethoven puts that outside of time structure in the timeline of the piece, that scale becomes a work of art.

And that’s what I do with this mathematical-inspired material, exactly that. Because you know nowadays, I mean you can’t compose like Beethoven. I mean tonality is not for the music of art in my opinion. I mean you can use it for, maybe for commercial music, but you can’t write in C minor today, in my opinion.

NYCR: (silent disagreement about C minor and the tonality issue but realization that my opinion is not the topic of the day).

G D-J: I know this is very personal, but I think, you know, that that language was exploited up to its maximum, and we have to find new ways …

So, the important thing for me is first, that the music is written for human beings, I mean thinking about that someone has to play that and has to learn, to employ time … I mean you can’t expect a performer to be twelve hours practicing your music… it has to be as easy as the music of the past … in general…especially orchestral music. If you write for a soloist, then you can write more virtuosically, but if you write very difficult music for a large ensemble or an orchestra, then your music won’t be performed. So, I use those mathematical underpinnings from a very, very musical and practical point of view.

You know, when one of my pieces Chigaday for the island of La Gomera was premiered, I have a group of friends here in Madrid (non-musicians, you know I play golf, and we go together), and I invited them to the concert, and they appreciated the music. I mean they thought it was, for them it was kind of alien, but in the good sense. They found strange sonorities and … but it was a very, very pleasant experience. So, I think everything depends on what you do with the material.

I think just like in nature, repetition is an important part of the complex system in nature … in music too, we are prepared as human beings, we have evolved to recognize patterns both visually and aurally, so I think a piece of music be it written in the tonal system or any other system, if it doesn’t have a certain amount of repetition, something you can remember, then it becomes incomprehensible.

NYCR: I agree.

G D-J: and I think that’s part of the key in writing contemporary music, that the audience can enjoy and understand.

NYCR: Yes. Some of that repetition I assume you’re referring to is what is embedded in the material and some of it is in your manipulation of the material.

G D-J: Exactly … absolutely. You know I believe my music is quite complex in terms of sonority and orchestral texture, but I try always to be concerned with that repetition of certain elements. I mean I’m not talking about repeating the same thing over and over, but relationships between the instruments… something most composers have done throughout history. Somehow, we must not forget that that is one of the keys of understanding anything, not only music but any piece of information, be it music or literature or painting… it has to have some amount of recognizable patterns, I believe.

NYCR: Yes. I know you created your own program and made it available (at fractmus.com), so other composers could use this program… so are you starting a whole school of composition, and are others going to use it? and is their music going to have a recognizable quality that relates to yours, or would it be completely different?

G D-J: Well, I know the program has been used for many years, because the program is twenty years old already. I wrote it for my doctoral dissertation in 2000, so it’s almost twenty years old. It’s still alive and kicking, and I’m aware it has been used by many composers. You see the program is so open-ended that the material it gives you can be manipulated in so many ways that every composer can use it in its own way of writing, so I wouldn’t say that I would be able to recognize something that came out of the program. It’s really infinite, because it uses mathematical formulas that translate into numbers and those possibilities are really infinite. It would be impossible to know, unless they said so, but usually they don’t say so. So, what the program is is really what I just said: it translates mathematical formulas into musical elements, like pitch, rhythm, and dynamics… so I’ve used it in many of my pieces.

NYCR: Yes. So, have you written a lot of music without the program?

G D-J: Yes, but I use other structures, not related to the program. But usually in my music, there is always a mathematical hidden layer… kind of in the background, inspired by some mathematical process, but I then use it in a more intuitive way. Like something that I always think … like Beethoven for instance… when he wrote the Pastoral Symphony, where do those melodies come from? They come from culture, from other melodies he heard, maybe from imitating the birdsong, when he took those walks outside of Vienna, right? so it comes from somewhere. So, I kind of mine the computational universe, the mathematical universe to search for structures that I can use as musical material. And of course, I decide… if I try something and I don’t like it, I discard it. It’s a beautiful process, because it’s really a search, a search for what I consider beautiful, of course … some other composer may say, “oh why did you throw out this melody? I think it’s great,” but you know it’s my decision, of course.

NYCR: perhaps a silly question, but say a very eager patron asked you to write something in C minor, what would you do?

G D-J: I wouldn’t. I have to be honest with myself. It would be a commercial kind of commission… I pay you this amount and you do what I say. That’s not a work of art … it’s like, I don’t know how to say it but … a carpenter, you ask “I want you to build a table, a three-legged table made out of rosewood, and do it this way and that way.” OK. He may do a beautiful thing but it’s not a work of art. Because he hasn’t put his own … I don’t want to say … soul or his own spirit, his own true way of working. It would be something commercial.

NYCR: The next thing is about fractals, which you use in your music, and I was reading about the first time the word was used by Mandelbrot in 1975 … you must have been a toddler or not even born.

G D-J: I was five.

NYCR: So, I want to know where in your life did you come to all these ways and thoughts?

G D-J: It was in 1982 when my father bought me a computer, you may have heard of it, the Commodore 64… remember? It was a home computer from the 80’s. The difference between those computers and the computers we have nowadays is that you could program the computer right away. It had a basic programming language, so I started learning the basic programming language, and I started to find out about math and fractals at that time actually, so I became very interested in mathematics and programming. That was the seed of my interest.

NYCR: Fantastic … I see.

G D-J: and I remember writing programs when I was twelve, twelve or thirteen. And I remember a program in the Commodore 64 Basic to map, or translate, how the prime numbers turn into sounds, into musical notes… and they created a kind of melody, that of course at that time I didn’t use it for anything, but I just wanted to know, oh, if instead of numbers you use notes, but with the structure of prime numbers, what will it sound like? So that’s the kind of thing I started doing…

NYCR: Were you one of those rare children who memorized every prime number?

G D-J: No, I know up to 100 but …no, I use them in my music, because you know they create fascinating rhythms, because there are so many gaps. Once you reach a higher number there are many gaps in between. So you can use the prime numbers as a way of creating interesting rhythms. And I use them in every piece in the cycle. The very rhythmical sections are mostly based on prime numbers.

NYCR: That’s fascinating. This all brings to mind the numerical interest of J. S. Bach … we know of it and all as an additional aspect, but often we are mainly aware that it is beautiful.

G D-J: There is a very big mathematical underpinning. A Bach fugue is a fractal musical structure, because it has the subject in different transpositions, at different speeds, and that’s part of the fractal geometry…that’s one of the keys of fractal geometry, repetition of patterns at different scales.

NYCR: … so augmentation and diminution and …

G D-J: Exactly.

NYCR: I never really applied (the term fractal) to earlier music. I see. I wondered also whether you had any earlier composers whom you found particularly vital as influences on your composing.

G D-J: Yes … Debussy, Ravel, Stravinsky I like, and I’m very, very fond of early music composers like Machaut, Ockeghem, Josquin Des Prez, Gesualdo…

NYCR: And you made a magnificent video of the entire Iberia, so I’m sure Albeniz is in there somewhere…

G D-J: And not only his music was very advanced for his time, but also the piano writing was very, very advanced for the time. And also I seem very related to him, because he was a great composer, but he was a pianist too. He was really a performer.

NYCR: I reviewed your recording of Iberia and was so taken with it … you are a superb pianist.

G D-J: Thank you… and I still play it quite often. I play it three or four times a year. It is a very difficult program, because to play the whole thing in one recital is … something.

NYCR: So, you are continuing to combine piano concerts with your schedule?

G D-J: Yes. I also have a chamber music group resident in Tenerife, and we do a lot of chamber music, some of it contemporary, but not only contemporary. We do everything from Baroque to new commissions.

NYCR: I see. Now, when people hear your music, do they say it reminds them of any particular composer?

G D-J: That depends on how much music you have heard. If you are informed about for instance the spectralist school, you can recognize some of the elements. Tristan Mirail or Gérard Grisey. But you know, just like Beethoven and Mozart wrote in the tonal system and sound different, so I sound different than those composers.

NYCR: If you had to choose one movement of your cycle that is your favorite that you would want an audience member to hear first, what would it be?

G D-J: Oh, that’s like choosing between seven of your children. I wouldn’t do that. But I can say that Aranfaybo is the most “classical” piece, and Guanapay, which is the piano concerto is the most experimental.

NYCR: and what are some of the responses to your music that have made you the happiest? … have you had that feeling that “they really get it.”

G D-J: Yes, you know from people who are not used to listening to any classical music. It has happened a few times with my orchestra pieces and with my piano pieces. I was approached by a girl, I mean she wasn’t five but maybe twelve, and really honest about how much she liked my piano pieces. And that’s great.

NYCR: Was that Metaludios?

G D-J: Right. She came with her mother and she was really fascinated by the sonorities and … she didn’t know … she’s not a musician… so that makes me the happiest. Because of course if you know the repertoire, it’s logical that you can appreciate, but if someone is not familiarized with classical music or contemporary music and appreciates your music, then … I’m very happy. But, having said that, I have to write what I have to write. I wouldn’t write something thinking that more people are going to like it. I don’t think that’s an artistic attitude. I think that you have to write what you have to write. Be honest with yourself and of course be concerned about the performer because after all someone has to play your music, but I think if you write think oh, if I put this maybe more people will like it … no, that’s … no.

NYCR: Now I also wondered about the images. There are many images from mythology and geography and geology. How do the visual aspects correspond to the musical? Can you discuss any of that?

G D-J: Right. Well, the whole cycle is really about the natural beauty of the Canary Islands. It’s not about the folk music of the Canary Islands, it’s about the nature of the Canary Islands. So, in the pieces, there are many, many evocations of natural forces. I mean you can hear the sea, I mean I have orchestrated some passages to sound like the waves and the wind. You can listen for instance to the beginning of Chigaday … that’s an evocation of the wind with the sea birds … and not only that, but for instance the ragged textures of the volcanic landscape, because you know the Canary Islands are completely volcanic, like Hawaii is the same type of case. So, I try to evoke musically those things that are very specific to the Canary Islands. And that’s about for instance the geology, but we have amazing forests and they are called laurel forests and they existed in Europe around twenty million years ago. And those forests used to be all over Europe, I think around twenty million years ago, and nowadays I think they are only in the Canary Islands and in Madeira (you know the islands that belong to Portugal) … so that kind of forest is very, very green and with tortuous trees, very humid, it’s amazing… looks like… have you been in the highlands in Scotland? It’s very similar actually. I was so surprised.

NYCR: Oh, and you were just there…

G D-J: Yes, I went to the highlands, some of the most beautiful places I’ve been, and some of the forests look … maybe not the same type of tree but …looks very similar. The tree, the trunk is filled with moss… and in the Canary Islands we have something very similar. So. I tried to evoke that feeling of being in a place, kind of dark and green and misty, and I tried to evoke it with musical texture.

NYCR: So you were born in the Canary Islands, but then you came to the US to the Manhattan School of Music. I am thinking the connection must have been Solomon Mikowsky?

G D-J: Right… Yes!

NYCR: and he has, or did have, a music organization in the Canary Islands.

G D-J: I think the last festival was around 2006… we are trying to revive it …

So yes, I met him in a competition in Madrid, and I was just finishing my studies in Tenerife, so he said “why don’t you come to New York” … and you know I was sixteen at that time, so I came to New York when I was 17, in 1987. So yes, I met him, and he was a wonderful teacher and more than a teacher – he has been almost like a second father. And I have a very close relationship with him … today I wrote an email to him a few hours ago.

NYCR: So are you often in the Canary Islands?

G D-J: Our festival in the auditorium, the resident chamber music group, we play almost every month except September and January. And I go very often … my family, my mother, my siblings live there so I go.

NYCR: Now not that this is important but, is there music in your family? You mentioned your father giving you the computer, and I’m guessing there is a mathematical/scientific interest there …

G D-J: Yes, he’s responsible for me being a musician because he when I was little, my grandmother had an upright piano, and he bought me lessons, and then the conservatory, so … and my mother sang very, very well… she wasn’t a professional singer, but she has a very, very good ear. And my sister is a composer too. Dori is her name, Dori Diaz-Jerez. And we inherited I think the musical talent from my parents, obviously.

NYCR: …and your father played the piano?

G D-J: The violin a little bit and the piano a little bit, but as an amateur…

NYCR: Sometimes the amateur passion is very strong …

G D-J: Yes, right …he made sure we went to the best teachers there, in Tenerife, and then in New York, so … yes, if you don’t have the support of your family it’s very difficult. If you are a child, it’s very hard to become a musician if your parents don’t believe in it…

NYCR: …or if they never listen to it or play it in the house. So … you’ve combined music and science in ways that many cannot.

G D-J: I will tell you a little story. You know my scientific interest…the side of the computers came when I was, I must have been four because my younger brother wasn’t born yet, and we used to live near the beach … my parents have a house near the beach, and we had a long room … and my sister and I, we used to close every door, so everything would be dark, just to play, you know … children. And from the kitchen window, the light of the sun passed through the keyhole of the door, and you know it made a camera obscura … you know what it is, right? So, I realized it was being projected on the wall, the images from outside, like a little movie. And I was so fascinated… and I remember that, and I was four, and my sister was three years old, and I think that kind of awakened my interest for science from there, because it was so breathtaking … I was watching the cars pass, and – because it’s like a camera – and I remember it so vividly, that image. That awakened my curiosity for science, to find out why that happened … it remained with us for many years and I think that made me want to find out things about nature and science …

NYCR: I imagine there must have been a struggle at some point deciding between your love of science and math and music …

G D-J: No, I think my love for music has been greater…I mean I love science of course… but so much to become a scientist … no, my love of music is too great to be just an amateur in that …

NYCR: well, I have so many questions, but … aside from this recording, is there another project coming up ahead?

G D-J: Yes, there is! I hope that by the end of next year or maybe 20-21 I want to record another CD with more piano pieces, my Metaludios.

In the first one I recorded three books of six pieces each, so there are eighteen pieces in total…and I’ve written already 25. So my plan is to record two new books plus an older piece I have, so that would make up another CD. And also maybe some chamber music … I want to record some of my chamber music pieces.

NYCR: Wonderful! Tell us more about the origins of your composing Metaludios…

G D-J: Well, you know, since I’m a performer, a concert pianist, I’ve been composing really all my life. When I started playing the piano people asked me “what do you want to be when you are older” and I said I want to be a composer. That’s what I said when I was ten years old. So, I’ve been composing really all my life. But maybe for the past 25 years I’ve taken it more seriously, and I’ve been writing these pieces for over six years now.

NYCR: and do these (Metaludios) have anything to do with your (computer) programming?

G D-J: Yes. Some of them are. All of them have to do in some way or other with a mathematical idea – not idea, structure.

NYCR: Would a performer, let’s say someone who is not familiar with the technique behind the composition, simply play them?

G D-J: Yes, they could play them without any knowledge of what’s going on underway… but of course as with all music, if you know how it’s constructed, how it’s put together, you know, it makes the piece more available to you.

NYCR: On these recordings you will be playing them?

G D-J: Yes … and I think any good musician can play them. You don’t have to be a specialist to play this kind of music. You have to know how to do certain things, because some of the pieces require extended techniques inside the piano…but everything is very well explained … you’ll see the score. I’ve put QR’s [QR codes] so you can scan with your phone and you can see how it sounds … it takes you to a YouTube video of myself playing the passage, then you know how to do it…because you know, we have the technology to do that … so that clarifies very, very much …everything is very thoroughly explained.

NYCR: Well I can’t wait to hear your orchestral pieces, and I guess I will be able to hear them in a couple of months?

G D-J: Yes, the first edit I will be able to send a first edit in the beginning of November for reviewing …but it will be on the market in February.

NYCR: Very exciting! And I’d love our readers to know a bit more about you as a person… when you are not composing, tell us a bit about you … you are teaching as well.?

G D-J: I teach in San Sebastian, at the conservatory of San Sebastian, the conservatory of the Basque country…

NYCR: So, between your teaching, your concertizing as a pianist and your composing, are you basically making music all day long (aside from golfing which you mentioned). Are there any leisure pursuits?

G D-J: I like to walk with my wife … we take walks every day if we can, because exercising is something that is very important to keep the mind in a good state … but I must say that I feel very. very lucky to be what I am. If you think how many people are struggling in humanity, not only what happens in poor countries like in Africa or in India but others – sometimes, I hate to say it, but they don’t like their work. So, I feel so fortunate to do what I so – it’s amazing – in every sense, in composing, in playing, in teaching, in communicating your ideas to the students… I couldn’t be any happier to be where I am. Sometimes, you know, it’s luck, because if I were born in Somalia, I would probably be struggling, but I was very lucky to be born in Spain …

I also want to express thanks to those involved in the recordings, the conductor of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, Eduardo Portal. He is a close friend and a champion of my music, and he was the one who initiated the recording project. He was awarded the prestigious “Leonardo” grant from the Fundación BBVA (Banco Bilbao Vizcaya Argentaria), which is our main sponsor. Special thanks also go to the soloist in the clarinet concerto (Ayssuragan) Cristo Barrios, to Ricardo Descalzo, the pianist for the piano concerto, and to the sponsors of the recording project, Fundación BBVA, Cabildo de Tenerife, Cabildo de Gran Canaria, and Gobierno de Canarias.

NYCR: Thank you so much for this interview, and we look forward so much to hearing the recordings of your music!

The website for more information is www.maghek.com.

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