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Wa Concert Series presents Wind Power in Review

New York Woodwind Quintet

Carol Wincenc, flute; Stephen Taylor, oboe; Charles Neidich, clarinet; William Purvis, French horn; Marc Goldberg, bassoon; Bryan Wagorn, piano (guest)

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

April 12, 2019

The beneficent ghost of Samuel Baron (1925–1997) was undoubtedly smiling in attendance at the New York Woodwind Quintet’s April 12^th concert at the Tenri Cultural Institute. Mr. Baron, founder of the Quintet in 1949 and, for a half-century, a beloved conservatory mentor to flutists (and their collaborative pianists), was also a conductor, a champion of new composers, a musical entrepreneur, an arranger, a member of the Bach Aria Group, New York City Symphony and City Opera, and a captivating lecturer on subjects psychological and practical. In this April installment of the Wa Concert Series, titled “Wind Power,” quintets by John Harbison and György Kurtág preceded a rendition of Mr. Baron’s sextet transcription of the Brahms G minor Piano Quartet, Op. 25, comprising throughout a glorious tribute both to Baron’s own legacy and to the Quintet’s seventieth anniversary.

Mr. Baron viewed the principal winds, the core of the symphony orchestra or the “leaders from within,” as bearers of a crucial responsibility in the realm of chamber music; in place of their standard role as simple executants of an orchestral conductor’s wishes, the players in a small ensemble could—and must—be interpreters and magical conjurors, channeling the composer’s ineffable spirit. To this aim, the most spectacular of the Quintet’s achievements on April 12 was Kurtág’s Woodwind Quintet, Op. 2 (1959), with Harbison and Brahms trailing close by.

György Kurtág, who is 93, has often been compared to Anton Webern, albeit in Central European Jewish guise. Kurtág was lucky enough to sidestep the horrors of World War II by studying in 1940 in the inconspicuous locale of Temesvar (Timişoara), Romania, later emigrating to Hungary in 1946. A pithy writer heavily influenced by Kafka, he underwent a brutal course of psychoanalysis during his years of study in the late 1950s in Paris, where he recounted the reverse metamorphosis of a “cockroach striving to change into a human being, seeking light and purity.” Perhaps stemming from art therapy sessions in which Kurtág was asked to create confessional sculptures from matchsticks, his penchant for divining expressive significance from the most ascetic of materials led to his rough-hewn, aphoristic early style.

Kurtág’s Quintet for Winds traverses eight movements in as many minutes, implanting microcosmic layers of intent within every terse utterance. For the breath-stopping duration of these miniatures, the bright and sterile concert room of the Tenri became a murky, post-war therapist’s lair, in which out-of-doors motifs of Bartók were exhumed and the birdcalls of Messiaen (with whom Kurtág studied) twisted themselves around a skein of intimate associations. Whirs and jabs floated, pierced, fell by microtones, and leapt questioningly from flute to oboe to clarinet and bassoon, all over a sustained horn (Mr. Purvis appeared to have a mountaineer’s lung capacity). This sort of identification with black dots takes place only under the obsessive tutelage of a composer, and although the twelve-page program booklet neglected to offer notes on the music (or even the correct key of the Brahms), we were treated to helpful verbal explanations of Kurtág’s coaching and the nurturing process behind what we were hearing.

The stage-setter for this catharsis came from the opposite end of the Schoenberg-Stravinsky spectrum. John Harbison, 80, is one of our national treasures and has been especially fêted in the current season. At the height of his career, the renowned composer is unveiling new recordings, world premieres, a book, and numerous performances to add to an enormous catalogue of symphonies, concerti, choral works, and operas including “The Great Gatsby,” commissioned by the Met. Mr. Harbison, winner of countless accolades in addition to a MacArthur Fellowship and a Pulitzer Prize, hails from the Northeast (Harvard, Princeton, MIT) and is active throughout the United States, with many of his compositions receiving performances worldwide.

His five-movement Quintet for Winds, a Naumburg commission from 1978—both Mr. Neidich and Ms. Wincenc are former Naumburg Competition winners—is an aural feast as well as a cerebral one; traditional dissonances and tensions between mismatched notes speak the language we know from Bach and Stravinsky, merely updated and laced with Americana, lyricism, and humor to bring us home. Harbison is all about communication, from before the music starts until the performers walk offstage, and this group’s burnished blend could react to the gesture of a shifting eyeball on the part of Mr. Goldberg. The clever choice to open the concert with Harbison’s animated declamation (Intrada), filled with sevenths, expressive doublings, and stratospheric explorations of every instrument’s range, was outdone only by the players’ attention to highlighted balances and well-honed intonation, leaving no harmony to chance. A moment for Mr. Taylor to shine in the plaintive Romanza opened forth into a series of escalating, quirky punctuations, perfectly calibrated, followed by the most seamless and ridiculous barrage of perpetual natterings in clarinet, flute, and bassoon (Scherzo: Prestissimo), paving the way for a somber Adagio and a hilarious, multi-tongued, gimpy march to close.

Considerations of balance were evidently central to Mr. Baron’s arrangement of Brahms for piano and five winds (the original calls for piano and three strings). Pre-concert publicity and print had conspired to secrecy about the name or even the existence of a pianist in this piece, leaving the introduction of a mystery guest to Mr. Neidich. When he arrived, however, Bryan Wagorn was a game contributor to the festivities. Already an established figure in the vocal world, Mr. Wagorn has performed with legendary singers and worked as assistant conductor at the Met. His presence at the Tenri’s seven-foot Steinway, a Wittgenstein family bequest, was dazzling and evocative, and certainly Mr. Baron’s arrangement of the G minor Quartet is a thrill to hear. The piece presents new challenges in wind territory, as double-reeds and brass tend to drive the tone much more than bowed nylon and titanium, and the horn’s dominating lines kept bringing to mind stretches of unwritten Mahler symphonies. The molto piano, con sordino pulsating triplets in the Intermezzo were recast as vibrantly tongued attacks, a timbral stimulant to the piano’s whimsical folk melodies. If one was looking for completion from the earnest, soul-searching Brahms, his reassuring voice warmed the air in transitional moments such as the piano’s Bachian cadenza in the Zingarese finale and a heavenly flute entrance joining its afterglow.

The Wa Series is also highly recommended for its culinary post-concert delights, courtesy of Ayako Oshima.

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

The Paulus Hook Music Foundation presents Cong Bi in Review

Cong Bi, pianist

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 12, 2019

In a well-attended debut at Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall this week, Chinese pianist Cong Bi took on three of the most demanding works in the piano literature. Beethoven’s Sonata in F minor, Op. 57 (the “Appassionata”) and Schumann’s Davidsbündlertänze shared the first half, and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition stood alone as the second half. The concert was billed as a “celebration of the 40th anniversary of the establishment of Sino-US diplomatic relations.” Though there was no music from China to mark the occasion (even when an audience member called out “Chinese song!” at encore time), a large Chinese contingent seemed proud and excited.

This reviewer gives generally few (if any) words about an artist’s appearance, but one would be remiss here not to mention that Cong Bi drew a gasp of admiration before he played a note. Blessed with a movie star’s good looks, he cuts a swath simply by striding onstage and gazing dreamily out at the hall from beneath a Lisztian mane. Why mention such a thing, when it is the music that matters? Well, at the risk of lumping classical music together with the pop world (e.g., the teen models who become overnight “musicians” with the magic of Auto-Tune), a distinctive stage persona does help command some attention even from classical music audiences (despite what many say). What happens after that initial impression is up to the performer’s actual musical gift and the discernment of the audience, though a magnetic image doesn’t hurt then either.

A quick web search finds that Cong Bi recently completed a graduation recital for the Bachelor of Music degree at the Mannes School of Music (The New School), but many of his credentials are from performances with orchestras and at international festivals from as early as 2011. Though no mention of the pianist’s age is made, one would guess that 2011 would have found him in his young teens. His biography cites a Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 2 performance at age fifteen (Forbidden City Hall in Beijing) for “fulfilling his stature as a musical prodigy.”

The transition period from the sketchy label “prodigy” to that of “mature artist” is challenging, because a prodigy by nature is a standout among his peers with all the attention focused on himself or herself; the gradual shift of attention towards music’s deepest offerings, though, is what allows the genuine “slow burn” career. There were many glimmers of that pure musical devotion throughout the evening (not to mention the discipline involved in tacking the program itself), but at the moment the romance and excess of youth are centerstage.

The good news from this reviewer’s perspective is that, given the order of repertoire chosen, one could enjoy each piece more than the last, with the Beethoven showing promise, the Schumann featuring a wonderfully manic ride, and the Mussorgsky going for broke completely in an unbridled tour de force. On the downside, the range from wild to wilder to wildest seemed to place Beethoven’s great Op. 57 in the position of being the steed that one uses to ride onstage rather than the substantial work of art that it is. The technical grasp was certainly there, except for a few rough patches and occasional balance issues (e.g., where left-hand repeated note rumbles overwhelmed higher lines); on the other hand, various important junctures were glossed over at high speed, and weighty moments seemed rather glib. This piece requires a bit of living, as well as thorough scholarship, and though it was clear that Mr. Bi has been well taught to be mindful of most of its details, one missed feeling the hard-won wholeness of conception that one wants. That quality tends to come with time.

Things simply got better after the Beethoven. Some of the qualities that one tends to link with youth – fierce energy, breakneck speeds, the glorying in massive sonorities, and almost schizoid shifts to intimate poetry – these all enhanced numerous passionate moments of the Mussorgsky and Schumann.

In the Schumann Davidsbündlertänze, we heard just the right impulsiveness in the eighteen wildly diverse episodes. Impetuosity was especially pronounced in the fourth (Ungeduldig), the sixth (Sehr rasch), the thirteenth (Wild und lustig), and the fifteenth (Frisch). The three episodes marked Mit Humor were also just so. We heard a hale and hearty romp through the third, with delightful ease in the leaps (as heard later in the ninth as well), and there was a Horowitzian devilry in the twelfth. The sixteenth had a jaggedness that verged on madness (in the best way possible), and in and out of the entire set we heard some astonishing lightness and delicacy as well. Present were the heroic flourishes of Florestan and introspective spells of Eusebius (contrasting characters who were quite alive in Schumann’s musical imagination), and the Davidsbünd (“The Band of David” against the Philistines) was well conveyed with excellent range. Having heard the Davidsbündlertänze easily a hundred times in capable hands, one has a rather high bar set for it, but this performance held its own quite well. The final episode (Nicht schnell) spoke stirringly, even if its last pianissimo breaths were a shade too loud (probably thanks to the hall piano’s highly resonant bass).

As for the Mussorgsky Pictures, it was a thrill to hear it played with such total immersion. The overall “exhibition” (each musical movement representing a painting at an exhibit) was interpreted thoughtfully, as were the individual sections. The Gnomus movement was appropriately craggy (almost brutal, but it worked), followed by a hypnotic Old Castle and an effortlessly fleet and clear Tuileries. The Bydlo (oxen) movement, was certainly leaden as it should be, though the giant hand gestures with each chord seemed needless at best and a bit risky.

What followed Bydlo was special in that the recurring Promenade theme (suggesting the composer’s own stroll between artworks) was treated with more special sensitivity to tonal color than it usually receives. This reviewer has found many performances of Mussorgsky’s Pictures quite tiresome, and it may be because the proverbial chain (in music especially) is only as strong as its weakest link. In other words, when the Promenade theme is treated as mere connecting material as often happens, interest lags. Why should we not be as involved in the walk of the art lover (within this musical artwork), as well as in his changing gait and spirit? Cong Bi did well in this regard, holding his audience firmly as he moved through the encyclopedic array of moods, characters, and images – not to mention pianistic challenges. From the sobbing character of the repeated notes of Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuÿle to the frantic double notes of The Market at Limoges, he drew on tremendous pianism resources. The Hut on Hen’s Legs (Baba Yaga) was absolutely nightmarish, topped only by “no holds barred” rendition of The Great Gates of Kiev. A few minor glitches hardly affected the sweep from such sheer abandon, and listeners were on the edges of their seats. It was the kind of excitement that could help draw the next generation into the world of classical piano music. A standing ovation followed.

Despite the audience plea for a Chinese song, the evening retained its Russo-German slant with an encore of Bach, the Andante from the Italian Concerto. It was sensitively played, although I couldn’t agree with all of the pianist’s ornamentations. A second encore was Bach’s Prelude in C major (Well-Tempered Clavier, Bk. I). It exuded a certain lovely reverence until the tacking on of a jazz ending after the close, a strange (some would say heretical) add-on for a piece that still inspires debate over even a single measure (the “Schwenke” measure, no. 23, which Mr. Bi rightly omitted).

It was an auspicious debut – and this will be an interesting career to follow!

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Windsongs in Review

Ed W. Clark High School Concert Band (NV)

Jeffrey A. Lacoff, director; David Seifert, assistant director; Julio Vargas, guest director

Ed. W. Clark High School Symphonic Strings

Charles Cushinery, Eric Maine, directors

Susan E. Wagner High School Wind Ensemble (NY)

Paul Corn, director; Brian Worsdale, guest director

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 12, 2019

We often hear about the lamentable state of affairs regarding music education in our country. Lack of funds and a focus on the latest fads in education are often cited as causes. Thankfully, there are still many programs not only surviving, but thriving, with the next generation of talent being nurtured and filled with a lifelong love of music. Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) hosted two such programs last Friday, the Ed. W. Clark High School (wind and string ensembles) from Las Vegas, Nevada, and the Susan E. Wagner High School (winds) from Staten Island, New York. They called their concert Windsongs.

To any regular reader of New York Concert Review it is no secret that I am a fan of both “band” music and young ensembles. At heart, I am still as much of a “band geek” as I was in the long-ago days when I was one of those youngsters having the time of my life. It’s truly a delight to see all the excited faces as the young musicians walk onto the stage of Carnegie Hall, ready to give their all. Lest people think that my feelings of nostalgia mean that a rave review is “in the bag,” they would be missing the fact that my experiences mean I am not easily fooled or dazzled by the tricks of the trade.

A few housekeeping items before I get to the performances. There were twenty-one works played this evening, so I am not going to mention each work, as that would turn this review into a book report. In the past, I would provide a link to the program so the reader could investigate further, but regrettably, DCINY has appeared to have ceased posting the concert programs on their website. Also, though the Susan E. Wagner High School Wind Ensemble played between the two Ed W. Clark groups, I am going to begin with them.

Led by Paul Corn, with guest director Brian Worsdale sharing the podium, the Susan E. Wagner High School Wind Ensemble hit the ground running. They did their tuning before taking the stage, something I wish more ensembles would do (especially the younger ones), and they lit right into the music. The instrumentation was well-balanced overall (something not always the case in High School ensembles), and no one section was dominant (also something not common in High School ensembles). The intonation and the ensemble were excellent overall.

Glenn Miller in Concert (arrangement by Paul Murtha), with quotes from In the Mood, Tuxedo Junction, A String of Pearls, Little Brown Jug, and Pennsylvania 6-5000, was smartly played with the old-time big band feel. Saturn Returns by Michael Markowski is a showstopper that these young players tore into with gusto. John Mackey’s This Cruel Moon, a poignantly beautiful work (adapted from the “Immortal thread, so weak” movement of his Wine-Dark Sea: Symphony for Band), was the highlight of their selections for this listener. It was an “A” that could have been an “A+” if there had been a bit more feeling of the heartache that abounds in this piece (as heard in an excellent recording done by the University of Texas Wind Ensemble led by Jerry Junkin). Yes, it is persnickety, but as the saying goes, “If you can do it this well, then you can do it even better!” Two Leonard Bernstein works (Slava! and a concert suite from On the Town) bookended their selections. Their supporters gave them a standing ovation at the end, and it was richly deserved.

The Ed W. Clark High School Concert Band took the stage to open the concert (and as a side note, I was intrigued by the tuning to Concert F). The conducting duties were shared by Jeffrey A. Lacoff, David Seifert, and Ed W. Clark alumnus Julio Vargas (Mr. Lacoff was also to been seen in the percussion section when not on the podium). Running though my standard checklist again: Well-balanced instrumentation – check (actually check-plus, as that is a dream come true for most High School ensembles), and good intonation and ensemble – check. There was again no single overly dominant section. Ten pieces were played, each from two to five minutes in duration.

This presents an interesting challenge for the reviewer, as the short duration of the pieces lends itself much more to “adjudication” then it does to a review. Reading of the band’s many superior ratings in adjudicated festivals does not surprise me, as their program seemed almost built to succeed in such format. I’ll try to do a bit of both adjudication and reviewing here. First, the review portion: Gershwin’s Second Prelude (arranged by John Krance) won me over, despite initial incredulity over the arrangement itself (from the piano version). It was a stylish and persuasive performance. Caesar Giovannini’s Overture in B-Flat (scored by Wayne Robinson) was brimming with energy and played with polish. Ginastera’s Danza Final from Estancia enjoyed a restrained tempo that allowed a cleanly articulated performance. It can so easily spiral into a helter-skelter, indistinct mess if too fast, but the group neatly avoided that fate. Derek Bourgeois’s Serenade with its irregular meter has a quirky charm which the ensemble captured well and with an appropriate sense of whimsy – good work! Finally, John Philip Sousa’s immortal march, The Stars and Stripes Forever (composed in 1896, not 1928 as stated in the notes), brought the audience to a standing ovation. Adjudication verdict: Superior, with one suggestion. The notes are all there, but there is an opportunity to heighten performance further with more careful attention to ensemble timbre. Poignant phrases (especially in Eric Whitacre’s The Seal Lullaby) need to be “softer” (in tone, not dynamics) to maximize the effect.

After intermission, the Symphonic Strings (also from Clark High School) took the stage. They were an impressive assemblage with fifty violins, twenty-one(!) violas, twenty-two cellos, and six string basses. Charles Cushinery and Eric Maine shared the podium. The sheer number of players had this listener thinking that perhaps this group was one of those in which “everyone gets in” regardless of ability. I was quickly disabused of this notion after a few measures of the opening movement of Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings. Such true intonation for such a large group was striking, and the ensemble balance was every bit as impressive as well. The high level continued in the Intermezzo from Mascagni’s opera Cavalleria Rusticana.

Three selections from Béla Bartók’s Romanian Folk Dances had a young girl (probably four or five-years-old) two rows in front of me happily dancing along to the music, which says more than any fusty “critic” words, and it was followed by the World Premiere of High Resolution by Jennifer Bellor, commissioned by the Ed W. Clark High School Symphonic Strings. This work has an atmospheric, dream-like quality, and Ms. Bellor writes in her notes that she took inspiration from two states of realities, being awake and being asleep. It is an effective work that is a worthy addition to the repertoire. The composer was present and rose to acknowledge the audience’s applause and to salute the orchestra.

The delightfully named Kwoktet, three brothers and a cousin sharing the last name Kwok (two violinists, a violist, and a bassist), were featured front and center in Por Una Cabez. What talents they proved to be, with the added bonus of all being personality-plus – they may be stars of the future, so keep your eyes and ears open! The fourth movement Fugue finale from Ernest Bloch’s Concerto Grosso No. 1 was scintillating. It was this listener’s favorite on a program that had much that was excellent. The audience gave them an extended standing ovation. This was one of the finest high school string orchestras that this reviewer can recall hearing in sometime.

An encore of the Temptations’ classic song My Girl had the audience clapping along in rhythm and was a joyful end to this well-presented evening of music. Congratulations to all!

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Artist Series presents Renaissance Duo: Tzu-Yi Zoe Chen and Lan-In Winnie Yang in Review

Tzu-Yi Zoe Chen and Lan-In Winnie Yang, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 12, 2019

Though April showers came our way, they brought a piano duo, and boy could they play! The Renaissance Duo, consisting of duo-pianists Tzu-Yi Zoe Chen and Lan-In Winnie Yang (who is also a composer), presented as a part of the Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Artist series, brought a powerhouse program to Weill Hall on April 12, 2019. I recall fondly Tzu-Yi’s Weill Hall solo debut recital from October 11, 2014, reviewed in these pages (Tzu-Yi Chen in Review). At that recital, she played a suite by Lan-In, so to hear the two of them working together was almost foretold, but I had no idea it would be as delightful as it was.

Their unanimity of ensemble, scrupulous attention to phrasing, generous flexibility (so hard for two to achieve together), and their budgeting of dynamics all contributed to the fine impression they made. The two alternated which one played the Primo and Secondo parts throughout the evening, yet I was never thinking about the mechanics of ensemble playing with these two. The overarching theme of this generous program was transcription, the way composers repurpose existing material, whether by them or by someone else.

The concert opened with Busoni’s Duettino concertante nach Mozart, based on the perky Finale of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in F, K. 459. One usually does not think “-ino” when Busoni’s music is the topic, but here the dimensions of the piece (only six minutes) justifies it, even though the conception and working-out are grand. The duo managed to preserve the lightness of the original composer, yet when Busoni begins to go off in his complex contrapuntal direction, they responded without gross thickening of the texture. It sounded as if Mozart had lived another 100 years, this is the piece he would have written.

The other work on the first half was the Brahms Sonata in F minor, Op. 34b, the third reworking of a piece that eventually became the Piano Quintet in F minor, Op. 34. Brahms was a relentless self-criticizer and reviser. The duo’s seriousness of approach, and ability to handle masses of sound was greatly appreciated by me, as was their attention to soft lyrical playing. It is indeed thrilling to see two Steinway concert grands on stage, to know what they are capable of, and yet to hear them whisper together. This was a majestic, passionate, and warm performance, and they managed a minor miracle: I didn’t miss the string parts (!).

After intermission, the tone became decidedly lighter, beginning with a new version of the Finale from Ms. Lan-In’s recently commissioned Piano Concerto, “Sketches of Taiwan” (2014), an affectionate programmatic portrayal of the bustle of life in the island, specifically Taipei, I would imagine. The piece alternates fast material, with influences of Prokofiev, and lyrical material that hearkens to Rachmaninoff, even Khatachurian a bit. That I mention other composers is not a slam, I’m sure Ma. Lan-In’s music will show even more individuality as she matures. Her craft is wonderful, however, and the duo really opened up through the showier portions.

This was followed by William Bolcom’s humorous take on the Garden of Eden and the expulsion of Adam and Eve in a suite (originally for solo piano) of four modern ragtime dances. After Joplin, Bolcom really is the preeminent composer of rags. I found myself marveling at how stylish the women rendered each and every corner of the “cool” music, with such enjoyment and wit. The audience reacted with delight, especially in The Serpent’s Kiss, which is full of foot stomping, wood tapping, clucking, and whistling, none of which is easy to do in the context of also having to play the piano!

The recital concluded with a stunning performance of the fierce Lutoslawski Variations on a Theme by Paganini, the theme from the violin Caprice in A minor that so fascinated Liszt, Brahms, and Rachmaninoff, among others. It is an encyclopedia of technical difficulties, yet time and again the duo gave me the leisure to enjoy just how much “music” there is in the piece, which was only possible because of their sovereign command of their parts.

The audience would not let them go, so they reformulated to one piano, four-hands for two unannounced encores. The first was a zany thing in polka rhythm that I did not know, and the second was a hair-raising, hysterically good version of the Sabre Dance from Khatchaturian’s ballet Gayaneh. The loudest sounds of the entire evening took place (completely appropriate) in this work, and Ms.Tzu-Yi got up and switched places with her partner to play the last zinger bass note (she had been on the upper part).

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

Legato Arts Presents Ivan Ženatý in Review

Ivan Ženatý, violin, Dmitri Vorobiev, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 9, 2019

It is one of the joys of long-term reviewing (nearly thirteen years now) to re-hear an artist one praised years before and find one’s earlier impressions not only confirmed but intensified. In 2012, I first heard the violinist Ivan Ženatý in music of Dvořák, Janáček, and Smetana, and wrote glowingly. This week, in music of Robert Schumann, Edvard Grieg, Oskar Nedbal (1874-1930), and Juraj Filas (b. 1955), he was possibly even greater. His pianist was Dmitri Vorobiev, who was also superb.

For those who are not familiar with the Czech violinist, Ivan Ženatý, he has a discography of over forty recordings including the complete works of Telemann, Bach, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Schulhoff, Dvořák and Grieg, and his repertoire includes over fifty violin concertos from Bach through Britten. He has taught at the Cleveland Institute for Music and is currently Professor of Music at the Royal Academy of Music in Copenhagen. Being a prizewinner in the prestigious Tchaikovsky International Violin Competition some decades ago has become almost parenthetical among his credentials – and that says a lot. For more information one can visit www.ivanzenaty.com.

His program offered many enticements, not the least of which was the first work, Schumann’s Märchenbilder, Op. 113, from 1851. Though one generally falls in love with this set as a viola work, it works as a violin piece as well, with some parts simply raised by an octave, and others with reworked arpeggio inversions and the like. It was, in fact, dedicated to the violinist Joseph Wasielewski, a good friend of Robert and Clara Schumann. Though this listener still prefers the work on the viola, especially the inspired depths of the fourth and final piece, the music speaks in almost any incarnation as long as there are sensitive interpreters, and there certainly were on this occasion. Mr. Ženatý played with the refinement and thorough musicianship one has come to expect from him, and Mr. Vorobiev was right with him. There was the flexible artistry that is possible only with complete trust in the collaborators’ responsiveness. It didn’t hurt either that Mr. Ženatý plays a rare Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu violin made in 1740 (thanks to the Harmony Foundation).

Oskar Nedbal (1874-1930), pupil of Dvořák, was the composer of the next work, the Sonata in B minor, Op. 9, for Violin and Piano. For full disclosure, I can’t recall hearing this Sonata in live concert ever, and though an internet search will yield some scattered recorded files of it, most are by – you guessed it – Ivan Ženatý. Nedbal may be best known for his shorter Valse Triste, which is in the repertoire of Czech orchestras. Mr. Ženatý has performed a valuable service for music and musicology by investing his energy and interpretive artistry into this work, and though the composer may not rival Brahms or Beethoven in a musician’s pantheon, it was fascinating to hear, both for its Dvořák connections and its idiomatic and brilliant writing. Both pianist and violinist conveyed its Romantic spirit and drama well, making short work of the spates of stormy virtuoso passages. They lent it the persuasiveness that comes from truly believing in a piece’s worth. I for one will aim to give it several more hearings.

Both players, despite the tremendous technical demands of the program, never flagged or played up the showman aspect with physical demonstrativeness. That integrity was familiar from Mr. Ženatý’s last recital, and he clearly has a gift for finding pianists with similar virtues. It was an evening of pure music-making at the highest level.

After intermission we heard Les adieux for Violin and piano by Slovakian composer Juraj Filas (b. 1955), who was present for the performance. As Mr. Ženatý wrote in the program notes, “During a very happy period in my life, I asked Juraj for a ‘Romance’ for Violin and Piano. Instead, he wrote, ‘Les Adieux’ for me in 2003, a romantic story about lost love; terribly sad but magically beautiful…” Indeed, the piece lived up to this description, with extremely poignant harmonies underscoring its lyrical lines. Mr. Filas came to the stage for a much-earned bow afterwards.

The final work, Grieg’s Sonata in C minor, Op. 45 (1886), was feast of music-making in all respects. From the first movement’s driving intensity – and the purity of its gentler E-flat theme – right up to the final movement’s triumphant major ending, there was no moment without commitment and character. Mr. Ženatý is far from self-indulgent, and because of such restraint, the listener is even more captivated by the occasional Romantic flourish, lingering, or slide. One heard the seasoned veteran’s ability to be expressive within boundaries and with respect for proportion.

Technically no hurdle was too great for this duo, and incidentally the piano lid was all the way up, with no problems of balance resulting. Mr. Vorobiev was able to keep the torrents of notes within his controlled grasp and unafraid to take the lead where called for, though never intrusively.

The audience gave a much-deserved standing ovation but rushed to sit down again at the prospect of an encore. When De Falla’s Spanish Dance was announced one could hear a gratified “mmm” from the hall, and no one was disappointed. Mr. Ženatý tossed off the Kreisler arrangement with dazzling skill and panache. As grounding as it was to hear such a thorough musician for an entire program, it was a delight to see him having fun just reveling in some fireworks. Mr. Vorobiev collaborated expertly.

Incidentally, not that one assesses an artist by his following, one simply could not help appreciating the audience itself – not for sheer size (though it was large) but for apparent musical awareness. The duo clearly attracted experienced listeners, and they responded to performers’ mastery. In many spellbinding moments, one could hear the proverbial pin drop (not the shuffling and unwrapping of candies, as often occurs). Upon entering one even overheard a ticketholder mentioning that he “came to hear the Nedbal” (and one wondered whether Nedbal himself had encountered that as often as he should have).

It was an evening to reaffirm one’s faith in unwavering high standards. Bravo!

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

Key Pianists presents Terry Eder in Review

Terry Eder, piano

Weill Recital at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 8, 2019

Key Pianists, a valuable New York series that features under-recognized pianists in repertoire they are passionate about, presented its founder and patron, Terry Eder on April 8th at Weill Recital Hall. Ms. Eder modestly programs herself only once every couple of years or so, leaving the roster open to other deserving players. I reviewed her last performance in 2017 (Terry Eder in Review 2017), and wrote a profile about her in these pages as well (A conversation with Terry Eder).

On this occasion, she brought most of her vivid strengths, and though I take issue with some of the interpretive choices she made, the evening was a resounding success. Ms. Eder exemplifies the golden-age pianism of the so-called “Leschetizky method”: deep, relaxed, unforced piano sound at all dynamic levels. It is rare in our age to hear music-making of such purity and honesty, without artifice.

This quality was evident in the program opener, Dohnányi’s rarely heard Intermezzo in F minor from Opus 2, a work written under the influence of Brahms, so to speak. Its grim little theme returns for increasingly ornate variation treatment, pianistically thick, though every bit of it was warm and clear in Ms. Eder’s playing. I’m sure she feels quite committed to the work, but it did strike me as somewhat dated, “Brahms” without the self-discipline or austerity.

Ms. Eder followed this with the first impromptu from Schubert’s second set of four, in F minor, D. 935. This was presented with simple songfulness, though I did wish for greater dynamic contrast, especially in the softest sounds. Ms. Eder managed one magical nuance: she made the lyrical second theme, originally heard in A-flat major, sound much more angelic when it returned in F major.

Next came the first of Beethoven’s late sonatas, No. 28 in A major, Op. 101. The work is structurally innovative, and the famous lyrical opening starts “in the middle,” as though the music has already been flowing along before the part we hear begins. To achieve this effect, however, takes a much softer beginning volume than we heard, although Beethoven himself left it out, and an editor suggests p. I found Ms. Eder’s approach much more corporeal than spiritual. Again, throughout I wished for more pianissimi, as I know Ms. Eder is capable of them. Her rendition of the second movement’s march was appropriately angular. The third section, barely a “movement,” more like an introduction to the finale, again lacked the mysterious delicacy that can make the sadness palpable. That finale, marked mit Entschlossenheit (resolve or determination) was indeed resolute, a bit too stiff for my taste, needing more final abandon as the positivity of it breaks the spell of what went before, as well as a wider dynamic range—there are many pianissimi indicated.

After intermission, Ms. Eder returned with one of her amazing specialties: Hungarian piano music, the fruit of her training and also of years spent there. This time we received gratefully four rarely heard works by Zoltán Kodály, a noted ethnomusicologist who, with Bartók, catalogued and ennobled so much of eastern Europe’s heritage of folk music before it was lost. He was, however, also a prolific composer of his own music, often influenced by the folk studies and materials. The Transylvanian Lament, from Op. 11, was gorgeously played, haunting in all the right ways. This set off the contrast made by the sassy little Allegro giocoso (Op. 3 No. 7) even more. Interestingly, I recently heard someone else play the Méditation sur un motif de Claude Debussy recently in the same hall, and I was struck by how much individuality Ms. Eder gave it. The piece uses as its principal theme the motive from the Scherzo of Debussy’s String Quartet. Kodály was profoundly influenced by his studies in France, and here he produces dark, mysterious sections “inspired by” but not imitative of, Debussyian impressionism. The Épitaphe, also from the Op. 11 set of pieces, was Kodály’s response to the news of Debussy’s death in 1918, again another stunning revelation provided to us by Ms. Eder.

There followed the first book of Images by Debussy himself, and his own celebration of orgiastic love inspired by a Watteau painting and his own personal life, L’Isle joyeuse. With this music, my variance with Ms. Eder’s approach was greatest. I’m beginning to sound like a broken record (who remembers records?!), but I only intermittently heard the sophisticated mixtures of very soft tone that this repertoire needs. Conversely, I don’t know why she downplayed the climax in Reflets dans l’eau. For me, the most successful movement was, no pun intended, Mouvement, which means tempo or speed, a grim take on the mechanization of life (the Dies irae makes a couple of appearances). The “happy island” nearly came to grief due to memory lapses (which were more or less present all evening). Now those who know my writing know that I always say it’s not so important when something adverse happens, it’s how one continues that matters, and continue Ms. Eder did, always saving the situation. However, the beginning trill of L’Isle is marked piano then crescendo, it doesn’t start with a loud accent (however fiendishly difficult this is to accomplish!). Debussy knew he was creating a very difficult work, and he entrusted the premiere to the great Catalan virtuoso Ricardo Viñes. I must mention one more detail, the final ascending ecstatic “rocket” arpeggio must be immediately connected to the descending one which follows, plummeting all the way to the lowest note on most pianos, a gesture that has brought many pianists to grief (missing the note and thwacking the wood with their finger!), but that did not happen on this occasion.

After an enthusiastic ovation, Ms. Eder played Chopin’s Waltz in G-flat major, Op. 70 No. 1 (posthumous) ever so sweetly and with that beautiful tone mentioned earlier.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Presents Mass in Blue: The Music of Will Todd in Review

Will Todd, DCINY Composer-in-Residence and Pianist

Alicia Walker and James M. Meaders, Guest Conductors; Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Kristin M. Claiborne, Soprano; Craig Butterfield, Double Bass;

Cliff Leaman Saxophone; Chris Lee, Percussion

David Geffen Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

Apr 7, 2019

An entire program at David Geffen Hall was devoted this weekend to the music of Will Todd (b. 1970), Composer-in-Residence for Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY). Featured were two large-scale works, Mass in Blue (constituting the first half, conducted by Alicia Walker) and Songs of Peace on the second half (conducted by James M. Meaders), followed by a shorter piece, No More Sorrow. Choruses came from all over (Connecticut, Florida, Kansas, Maine, Mississippi, Missouri, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Texas, and Virginia, as well as Canada and the UK), and Geffen Hall was abuzz with the excitement that DCINY always manages to create.

In case our readers are unfamiliar with Mr. Todd (as this reviewer was), he is a British composer and jazz pianist, best known for combining jazz and blues with traditional choral music. His jazz trio performs regularly and plays a large role in his Mass in Blue (2003), originally entitled Jazz Mass. The mass, commissioned by the Hertfordshire Chorus in the United Kingdom and premiered there in 2003, has since been performed over 200 times at venues including the Barbican, London, and Lincoln Center, NYC, as well as live on BBC Radio. Mr. Todd’s arrangements and compositions overall have been performed before dignitaries worldwide and in prominent venues across the globe. For more information, visit https://willtodd.co.uk

Some may call it bold – or even cheeky – to take the Latin text of the Mass, so reverently treated to noble settings by Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Fauré, Verdi, and others, and to set it chorally against the often insistent rhythms of a jazz trio of piano, percussion and double bass, with saxophone as well; anyone objecting to it, though, is around sixteen years late, as it appears that Mass in Blue has done quite well in terms of repeat performances and overall popularity.

Of course, the use of jazz in religious works is not new, and many artists (Duke Ellington, Mary Lou Williams, and others) have used the soulfulness or earthiness of some jazz styles to express personal faith quite naturally; the Todd Mass, though, sent a different message, and a mixed one, largely due to the juxtaposition of old Latin with his particular style of jazz. There were moments when the sacredness of the venerated texts seemed simply lost in the high gloss of the piano lounge, with all its commercial associations, and one felt a twinge of sadness, as if seeing a dear elder friend abandoned on a noisy, crowded street corner. This feeling would have not arisen had the familiar Latin texts been replaced by original personal ones in the composer’s native tongue, building bridges to a new sacred music through new words. Then again, this reviewer is sixteen years too late in commenting.

In terms of the performance itself, the DCINY rendition of Mass in Blue was a triumph. Conductor Alicia Walker, who works regularly with multiple choruses in South Carolina as well as through international programs, is a dynamo. She led the combined choruses through a performance of tremendous polish and spirit. It had to be a challenge to juggle chorus and jazz trio in terms of both tempo and balance, but she was more than up to it. The soprano soloist Kristin M. Claiborne was also superb, singing improvisatory jazz lines that reached the stratosphere. One reads in Ms. Claiborne’s biography that she, like Dr. Walker, has also led choral groups here and abroad and in fact worked with groups of the singers performing on this occasion. This was quite a team from Columbia, South Carolina, and with the rest of the DCINY singers, they made a formidable group.

Mr. Todd’s Mass in Blue consists of the six usual movements of a mass, the traditional Latin Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei – though, again, there was nothing usual about the settings. The work opens with jazz piano, and here it was Will Todd himself at the keyboard, his opening blues improvisation punctuated with soft swishes of the cymbal by percussionist, Chris Lee. Mr. Todd is a highly skilled jazz pianist, for whom piano seems to be the center of inspiration, though he is known for numerous choral works and arrangements.

Soprano, Kristin Claiborne wove her solos beautifully into the first movement Kyrie, but it was probably the third movement, Credo, which showed her in full glory. For anyone unaccustomed to the idea of a mass with 12-bar-blues sequences and “funky riffs” (as described in the excellent notes by Ralph Woodward), the spirit of the performers certainly helped sell it. Thankfully the settings of “crucifixus” and “et sepultus est” reflected more sobriety than much of the rest of the piece, although they still felt somewhat facile. They normally would provide the depths against which the “et resurrexit” line rises, though the latter was still fittingly jubilant. Dr. Walker was masterful, not only corralling these massive forces to keep up with the trio’s highly energized flights, but also reining them in to give leeway to the occasionally freer solo and trio passages.

Percussionist Chris Lee was rock-steady throughout a marathon afternoon of playing with little break, but he also enjoyed the occasional featured moment, such as his somewhat freer “last hurrah” in the third movement Credo. Saxophonist Cliff Leaman shone as well, particularly in the fourth movement, Sanctus.

An opening pizzicato solo from excellent double bassist Craig Butterfield introduced the next movement Benedictus with an unforgettably smooth style. One half expected something along the lines of Van Morrison’s Moondance to break out, but then again, much of the afternoon involved filtering out similar associations of popular music (and classical text) from one’s preconceptions. With that approach there was much to enjoy, including more stunning high notes from Ms. Claiborne in the Agnus Dei. The audience was unable to obey the printed instructions not to applaud until the end of the piece and burst into ovations at the end of the Credo and subsequent movements. There was certainly much appeal here for the audience, and it grew with each added voice, meter change, crescendo, and upward modulation.

The second half by comparison was more subdued. The program notes by Will Todd on his Songs of Peace tell of his mother, who passed away in 2012, and of her importance in instilling “a lifelong interest in choral music and worship.” James M. Meaders was the conductor for this half and was excellent as ever.

The Songs of Peace included six movements: Requiem, Precious Moment (text by Todd), Just as I am (from the traditional hymn of that name), Ave verum, A Song of Peace (text by Todd), and the lovely, lyrical finale, Into the Stars, in which the treble piano parts seemed to twinkle like celestial imaginings. Along with Into the Stars, one of the highlights was Just as I am. As Mr. Todd writes, his mother loved the hymn, which “she always said she would like at her funeral, and indeed this arrangement in a solo piano version was what I played on that occasion. The voices feel like a natural addition.” Though the hymn version was not specified in the program, it was the Saffron Walden melody that Mr. Todd used (this reviewer’s preference too, among a confusing array of versions). It was sensitively arranged by Mr. Todd, with an a cappella opening, a florid jazz center, and touching return to the melody in the end. There was something so direct and immediate at work here that, even though it was a pre-existing hymn, it seemed as if one might be hearing the composer’s truest voice.

The concert ended with a performance of No More Sorrow, another touchingly beautiful song, which offered a much-needed respite from the ubiquitous percussion. (Let there be no mistake – the afternoon’s percussionist was absolutely terrific – but just as with any pervasive flavor or stimulus, one could not after a while fully absorb anything else.) No More Sorrow provided a perfect end to another successful DCINY concert, and the words served as a final good wish for all.

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

Armenian General Benevolent Union 75th Anniversary Concert presents Şahan Arzruni in Review

Şahan Arzruni, piano

French Institute Alliance Française-Florence Gould Hall, New York, NY

April 5, 2019

Turkish-born Armenian pianist Şahan Arzruni gave an important and deeply felt recital April 5 in the intimate Florence Gould Hall of the French Institute/Alliance Française, and it was in works by Armenian composers that he was most colorful and convincing. Marquee names Hovhaness and Khachaturian were present, but so was the relatively unknown Edward Mirzoyan. Come to think of it, one doesn’t often hear music by the “marquee” names either, so this recital served an important musical as well as patriotic function. A nearly full house of enthusiastic supporters seemed to thrive on the life assertion of a culture that was nearly eliminated in 1915 by a deliberate genocide planned by the Turks.

The recital began with a generous helping of works by Chopin, however. Here, Mr. Arzruni exhibited great dexterity and a very personal rubato and flow, as well as heartfelt commitment, in two impromptus (Op.29 and Op. 66) and three nocturnes (Op 9, No.1 &2, Op.32, No.1).

He then turned to music by Alan Hovhaness, with verbal remarks that clarified what was about to be played, stating that Hovhaness could be regarded as the “first minimalist,” so much of his piano music consists of single-line (or very lightly supported) melody. Don’t let the phrase “single line” fool you; the music abounds in subtlety and rhythmic surprise, and Mr. Arzruni created vivid, eloquent atmospheres, even with these “limited’ means. In Vanadour: Armenian God of Hospitality, Op. 55, No. 1, the pianist is actually imitating the oud (similar to the Western lute). Farewell to the Mountains, Op. 55, No.2, displayed again the maximal result of such slender writing. Achtamar (sometimes spelled Akdamar), Op. 64, was inspired by an island in Lake Van, the largest lake in Turkey, with the Cathedral of the Holy Cross and a tenth century monastery that were spared from demolition (three others were destroyed). Hovhaness joked (or was he joking?) that it was “composed by the cat,” Hovhaness’ cat Raja Hoyden.

After intermission, the old chestnut Toccata (first movement of a largely forgotten three-movement suite) by Aram Khatchaturian was given a propulsive reading full of abandon when appropriate, making the most of the lyrical moments that are also in the work. Armenian folk melodies and rhythms form the raw materials of this dazzler. After this master rendition, one never wants to hear it played by a student pianist again!

Thereon followed a small suite by Edward Mirzoyan (1921-2012), a Georgian-born Armenian composer who was previously unknown to me, although in his day he was regarded, right along with Khatchaturian and four others, as a leading light. The suite, inspired by and dedicated to his granddaughter Mariam, could easily take its place next to Debussy’s Children’s Corner and Schumann’s Kinderszenen as an adult’s “view” of childhood. Mr. Arzruni was absolutely authoritative—he knew Mirzoyan—and particularly haunting in two movements titled Meditation and Sad Waltz.

The recital closed with a performance of the most famous sonata of all time, Beethoven’s so-called “Moonlight.” Once the audience hears the all too familiar first measure of triplets at the beginning, it really ceases critical listening, and far be it from me to be too hard on this performance. The sempre pianissimo delicacy and pedaling required by Beethoven were not present, and the triplets were consistently distorted to “fit in” the sixteenth note, something we tell all our students not to do, yet I found myself pulled in to the interpretation because Mr. Arzruni was so convincing in his concept. The Allegretto “flower between two abysses” was nicely delineated, and the tempestuous finale thundered appropriately, with some extremes of rubato that even scholars are beginning to admit “may” have been more commonplace in Beethoven’s time than we are willing to admit. I just felt that the time could have been better used to present even more rarely heard Armenian music (perhaps some Komitas).

Mr. Arzruni received a standing ovation, well deserved, and he played two unannounced encores, neither of which I knew, though the first sounded like Hovhaness to me, and the second a bit like Mirzoyan, or was it a touch of Arzruni?

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

Hsin-I Huang, “Mighty Shadow” CD in Review

Hsin-I Huang, Piano

Recorded August 2016 at Legacy Hall, GA

Matthew McCabe, Engineer

A CD entitled Mighty Shadow (no connection to the recently deceased calypsonian Winston Bailey known by that name) arrived on my desk this week and turned out to be all Russian piano music, Rachmaninoff and Mussorgsky, played by Taiwanese pianist Hsin-I-Huang.

Mr. Huang is a pianist with whom I was not familiar, but one learns from his biography that his credentials are numerous, including prizes (first prize of the Bradshaw & Buono International Piano Competition in New York and the International Music Competition Paris Grand Prize Virtuoso 2015, among others) as well as concerts throughout Asia, Europe, and the United States, including in Taipei’s National Concert Hall, and Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. Mr. Huang is currently a doctoral candidate on scholarship and assistantship at Stony Brook University, while also serving as staff pianist at several colleges – clearly a busy and versatile musician. For more information one can visit his website, www.hsinihuang.com

The two works on Mr. Huang’s CD, Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme by Corelli Op. 42 and Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, are far from neglected. The Mussorgsky falls almost in the category of “warhorse” – and though the Rachmaninoff Op. 42 is performed perhaps less often than some of the composer’s other piano works, it has hardly been ignored. One always wonders, as the seemingly saturated market for recordings of such masterpieces is saturated still further, how a new CD will distinguish itself. In this case the title “Mighty Shadow” suggests that the two works are being connected in something resembling a “concept album” (though the concept could be applied so widely as to seem a bit arbitrary). In the introduction to the liner, Mr. Huang explains that, “These two words for me conjure tensions between vigor and vulnerability, inspiration and intimidation, sacredness and secularism. And these emotions and ideas weave throughout this album’s masterworks in Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition and Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme by Corelli.”

Whether or not one finds the title to be enlightening or a tenuous attempt at a theme, the playing is always what counts, and it is very good here. Does this new CD merit a spot on the record collecting music lover’s shelf? The short answer, especially for the Rachmaninoff, is yes. Not only does Mr. Huang’s Rachmaninoff hold up under scrutiny and withstand comparison with some of the best performances available, but at some moments it surpasses them. Huang plays with a sincere devotion to this music, and his interpretations are thoughtful. His technique is up to it all as well, without question.

Points to admire included the organic flow from variation to variation after the hallowed theme and the sense of flexibility without excessive license. Skillful voicing was also evident, especially apparent in Variation II. Variation VII, heard in some hands as a harrowing blur, was coherent here, though clearly Mr. Huang was observing the “laissez vibrer” pedal instructions – perhaps with a lighter foot than others use. The subsequent variation had just the right misterioso feeling, and Mr. Huang managed the ritardandi without chopping up the whole.

In each case where this listener felt a reservation, the musical logic was nonetheless apparent. One was struck by the stiffness in Variation IV and wanted more lightness and speed in Variation X, but these made sense in context of the surrounding variations. In Variation XII the loudness felt exaggerated, but one admired the way it helped set up the lightness of Variation XIII. Variation XVIII towards the end was in a markedly more deliberate tempo than one is used to, but then it helped suggest a heroic gait. One could hardly argue with the conception, and thankfully it also avoided the hectic feeling that besets other interpretations.

An effective rhapsodic feeling was created in the Intermezzo, which prepared the ears for the “creamy center” of the piece in Variations XIV and XV. Pianists approach Variation XIV with varied emphases, some favoring inflection of the almost bluesy individual harmonies and others prioritizing a taut melodic line – and though it should not be an either-or proposition, prioritizing is inevitable. Mr. Huang tended to favor the unbroken melodic line, and, though this reviewer likes a bit more lingering over the shifting colors, it is probably a wise choice not to dillydally too much before the subsequent Variation XV. The fifteenth, marked dolcissimo, is a special slice of musical heaven, and it needs to be framed with care. Mr. Huang did just that with a childlike purity and transparency of sound. It could possibly have been even gentler, but that consideration may relate to the engineering (and more on that aspect later).

The issue of parts versus the whole arises whenever one reviews such lengthy works in recording. Perhaps the division into tracks reminds one to check how Ashkenazy or Trifonov did this or that segment, and inevitably one has one’s favorite moments. When one listens for the whole, though, as one should, Mr. Huang’s conception is hard to fault.

In the Mussorgsky, the sound struck this listener quite differently from that of the Rachmaninoff. Naturally one expects a difference of sound between pieces and composers, but the issue was more than, say, the warmer harmonies of Rachmaninoff versus the starker chords, single lines, and octaves in the Mussorgsky. The Mussorgsky sounded (despite all printed information to the contrary) like a different instrument in a different hall. It had at times a twangy brightness resembling even that of a MIDI synthesizer. If such a sound had been present at all in the recording or engineering of the Rachmaninoff, it was somehow camouflaged.

The Mussorgsky movements which struck one as excessively bright were rather predictable – especially Gnomus, Bydlo, and the Limoges Marketplace – and some could argue that these are meant to be quite bright, and they are, though it is always a matter of quality. It is with some reluctance that one mentions such things, as they do not necessarily reflect on Mr. Huang as a pianist, but if one is reviewing the CD – and especially considering the abundance of recordings – one must comment on the recorded sound itself. It is assumed that Mr. Huang was the producer, though none was listed. Possibly a pianist performing such demanding works may be too preoccupied with pianistic issues to have clear oversight of audio production concerns.

That said, there was much to admire in the playing itself. Highlights were the nuance and lightness and control in the playful Tuileries and the Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks and the treble tranquillo part before it. There was good contrast in the argument of Samuel Goldberg and Schmuyle and the Catacombs ending was especially haunting. Baba Yaga seemed tempo-wise much more deliberate at first than what one is used to, but it built well to The Great Gate finale.

The finale was also on the slow side, but it could be regarded as stately at such a pace. As a drawback to the tempo, though, it resulted in extraordinarily long final tremolos, unnaturally prolonged for this listener. If one can sustain their energy, the approach may work; it is hard to pull it off, though, in a recording, as much of their excited energy comes through live concert acoustics – and the live experience itself.

On that note, one hopes for a chance to hear this young pianist play this very program in live recital one day. It would promise to be a rewarding musical experience for artist and audience alike.

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

Wa Concert Series presents The Golden Triangle: Prague, Budapest and Vienna in Review

Charles Neidich, artistic director, C and A clarinets; Ayako Oshima, C clarinet;

Parker Quartet: Daniel Chong, Ken Hamao, violin; Jessica Bodner, viola; Kee-Hyun Kim, cello

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 30, 2019

The beginning of the baseball season seems an apt time for this metaphor: The Wa Concert Series hit another home run in its already estimable string of them last night. The Parker Quartet (Daniel Chong, Ken Hamao, violin; Jessica Bodner, viola; Kee-Hyun Kim, cello ) joined clarinetists Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima in concert. The general theme of Central Europe was the pretext for a wide variety of expression through music.

The curtain-raiser, so to speak (Tenri does not have a curtain), was Bohuslav Martinů’s Serenade for two clarinets and string trio, a 1951 work from his American period that Mr. Neidich stated was also influenced by sojourns in Paris and New York. This was not always apparent. One thing that is always reliable is the high level of craftsmanship of Martinů’s work. For me, his expressivity lies in his slow movements, while the quicker ones can sometimes feel a bit like they are on autopilot, despite the interesting rhythmic difficulties. The piece was played masterfully by Mr. Neidich, Ms. Oshima, and three members of the Parker Quartet.

The complete Parker Quartet followed the Martinů with a beautiful performance of György Kurtág’s Officium breve, in memoriam Andreae Szervanszky, a double-requiem (without words of course) for his colleague, Hungarian composer/clarinetist Endre Szervanszky, and their Austrian serialist predecessor, Anton Webern. It also memorializes cellist Tibor Turcsányi, recorder player Zsolt Baranyai, close friend Gabriella Garzó, and pianist György Szoltsányi. The fifteen minuscule movements have maximal expressive power, and the Parker Quartet’s perfection of style and intonation allowed even the uninitiated listener to share in the sense of sorrow; Kurtág, still active at 93, was a mentor to the group. Kurtág is here fascinated with the procedure known as canon (so important to Webern as well), and he utilizes references to Webern’s final work, the Kantate No. 2, Op. 31, a setting of six poems by Hildegard Jone that are mystical in content, and which Webern himself saw as a Missa brevis (Officium breve). Kurtág also self-quotes from his piano cycle Játékok, “Hommage à Szervánszky,” and song cycle The sayings of Péter Bornemisza, “Flowers we are,” and he quotes Szervanszky’s Serenade for String Orchestra. The audience held its applause for quite some time after the ending, always a good sign that the intensity of attention being paid was great.

After intermission, Mr. Neidich took the stage, again with the Parker Quartet, for a shattering, expressive performance of a repertoire staple, the Brahms Quintet for clarinet and string quartet in B minor, Op. 115, a work written from the heart and addressed to the heart. Thank goodness Brahms didn’t retire from composition, as he had announced after his Op. 111; he drew new inspiration from hearing the great clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld (Brahms gave him the nickname Fräulein Klarinette), and he created a beloved series of chamber works including the instrument (as well as piano pieces and Lieder), in which he further cemented his “late style”—every note is related organically to every other note, every motif recurs and interpenetrates, and there is in the quintet cyclic reference also (music from an earlier movement recurs).

That five musicians functioned as one would be the greatest understatement of my writing career. Sometimes in this work one hears a “diva” clarinet way out in front and four “others” supporting. Not so on this occasion! Every breath, every color, every phrase taper, was absolutely unanimous, yet always managed to sound completely “lived,” never over-planned. I could go on and on about Mr. Neidich, one of the greatest clarinetists in the world, but the Parker Quartet here matched him for inspiration: they made the hearty, warm Romantic sound so essential to this composer. I was particularly drawn to the cello work of Kee-Hyun Kim, so expressive, and his interplay with the other members. Also wonderful was the violist, Jessica Bodner. I don’t mean to neglect the violins either, but everyone knows the inner voices are more interesting!

The sense of leave-taking was palpable in the Brahms, and I can’t imagine there was a dry eye in the house (another long pause before clapping); they were brought back for four bows, but of course there is no “encore” possible after such a journey. I was ruminating on a line from the Hildegarde Jone poem: “By holy love’s great power.” As Mr. Neidich explained, there are references to the “Clara” theme (Clara Schumann, perhaps Brahms’ greatest unconsummated love), and even J.S. Bach. Thank goodness there was no Prozac in the nineteenth century!

By the way, the excellent dinner, included with one’s ticket and handmade by the multitalented Ayako Oshima , included two of Brahms’ favorites: sardines and chicken paprikash. Anyone who hasn’t attended a Wa concert, what are you waiting for? Two remain in this season.

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