Jinho Hwang, tenor; Steven Crawford, pianist

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

March 22, 2019

Sogno di Primavera, or Dream of Spring, was the title of tenor Jinho Hwang’s recent recital at the National Opera Center, and it was an evening that reflected Romantic dreams as well as optimistic beginnings. Though Mr. Hwang is not at the beginning of his career, with various prizes and noteworthy operatic appearances behind him, he seems to be enjoying a comeback of sorts after some unspecified medical challenge he alluded to from the stage at the end of the concert – and he appears to have fully recovered. The audience, many of whom undoubtedly have been with him through it all, were fervently supporting him.

Mr. Hwang’s program was full of impassioned and sensuous music about love and nature, predominantly Italian art songs (Bellini and Tosti) with a few Italian opera arias (Donizetti, Verdi, and Cilea), a French aria (Massenet), and two Korean songs (by Panghil Park and Geung Soo Lim). The texts were wide-ranging, suggesting longing, nostalgia, euphoria, and despondency, and brimming with Romantic imagery of roses, rivers, kisses and tears. The works lived up to the title, Dream of Spring – with Tosti’s Aprile feeling especially fitting as we speed toward the end of March.

As for Mr. Hwang himself, he seems to possess all of the vocal ingredients that one should need for a fine career; the main question, though, is how he will use those ingredients, in what balance, to what degree when, and in what repertoire. He has an extremely powerful voice, for example, and yet it did not always work to his advantage in a hall with such extremely live acoustics as the Marc A. Scorca Hall at the National Opera Center. One is faced generally with several choices in such cases: switch halls, switch repertoire, or scale down one’s dynamics. One would hesitate to suggest switching halls, as this one is a fine, intimate space and boasts a nice seven-foot Yamaha piano. The repertoire switch is probably not the answer either, as, even in the more delicate pieces such as Tosti’s A vucchella, the sound still came across as overly bright. The remaining option is to make big vocal adjustments, something any artist needs to learn to do throughout a career – and yet all remained overpowering. One was left guessing whether the hall acoustics were misleading from the performer’s standpoint or the dominance of such a consistently big sound was actually an artistic preference. There also seemed to be a preponderance of high drama from which some quieter miniatures would have offered relief, the sort of gentle miniature that is perhaps not typical on an audition demo recording but exists as art. Programming is an art in itself, and ideally it balances dramatic tension and urgency with release.

Music of the bel canto master Vincenzo Bellini opened the concert. Rather than opt for Bellini’s operatic arias, Mr. Hwang chose five songs from the more intimate Ariette da Camera (omitting only the fourth, Almen se non poss’io). The first two selections, Ma rendi pur contento and Malinconia ninfa gentile had glimmers of the beautiful timbres of which this singer is capable, but it seemed that Mr. Hwang was already working for large-scale operatic projection, as if directing his sound to the back row at La Scala. This approach did not reel in the listener as one hopes from an opener, but rather tended to draw the listener’s ears toward whatever imperfections of intonation there may have been as the singer was still finding his stride. Mr. Hwang does not appear to make things easy on himself.

In Vanne, o rosa fortunata, the superb collaborative pianist Steven Crawford provided a gently playful introduction, and it set the tone for a more relaxed, less stentorian approach. Mr Hwang here reflected more of the character of the text and also sang with delight in the diction (one dazzlingly rolled “R” comes to mind).

The following Bellini selections, Bella Nice, che d’amore and Per pietà, bell’idol mio again showed tremendous power. The latter enjoyed some glorious high notes, and Mr. Hwang was especially compelling in the unaccompanied sections, as if his gifts had been waiting for the cue to soar with increased freedom. More of that freedom elsewhere, paired with a search for more dynamic low points, will help deepen these pieces even further.

Two twentieth-century Korean pieces followed the Bellini group, Twilight over the mountain by Pan Ghil Park and As if spring comes across the river by Geung Soo Lim. Both were evocative in the manner of film scores, and both showed the singer at his most expressive so far. He then turned to opera arias to close the program’s first half, maximizing the drama in Donizetti’s Una furtive lagrima (from L’elisir d’amore) and lending a swagger to Verdi’s La mia Letizia infondere (from I Lombardi). He was quite visibly expressive in both of these, and – it should be mentioned as well – had a regal bearing throughout, which should serve him well in his operatic roles.

A beautiful array of six art songs by Francesco Tosti opened the second half. La serenata brought a gently rolling feeling to the program, and Mr. Hwang sang it with a natural ease, as it demands. It was followed by L’ultima canzone, A vucchella, Ideale, Aprile, and finally L’alba separa dalla luce l’ombra, all with moments that reminded one in purely vocal qualities of some of the great tenors of the past. What will ripen these pieces further will be more of a focus on the musical uniqueness of each one, irrespective of any issues of technique, passaggio or vocal fixations of any kind. It is always interesting to note how even many of the so-called technical challenges fall more easily into place as one gets away from audition-style demonstrations of skill and goes more deeply into the music. Of course, the opera world is filled with buzz about this or that singer’s “high C” and other strenuous achievements, but many listeners simply want music, with all its nuance, color, and variety.

The last two works were dramatic tours de force which elicited Mr. Hwang’s all, Massenet’s Pourquoi me réveiller (from Werther), with some magnificent vocal peaks, and Cilea’s E la solita storia del pastore (from L’Arlesiana). They closed the program with brilliance from both performers, drawing hearty ovations from the audience. There is no question that this singer has remarkable gifts, and – as one noticed a video camera filming it all from the back – one imagines some of the concert will result in some excellent demos and roles to come. There is much promise for Jinho Hwang – now may he enjoy the ride!

After some humble thanks to his friends, family, and God, Mr. Hwang announced that he would sing one more song, Grace of God. He sang it in Korean, with considerable emotion, and it was quite moving.

Jason Hardink, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 26, 2019

Jason Hardink demonstrated why he deserves to be known as a “key” pianist on Tuesday evening to a nearly-full house at Weill Recital Hall. He made the strongest impression in the thorny 20th century works that he has made his calling card: Eckardt, Xenakis, Messiaen. His strengths are: a prodigious memory and uncanny independence of hands and fingers that allows him to create extremes of contrasting sonority, both soft and loud, often simultaneously; he is very musical, and I believed every note he played. I did take issue with a few interpretive choices, which I shall try to elucidate below. By the way, he did create some of the best program notes I have read in many a season—regular readers of New York Concert Review know how passionate I am about program notes.

Mr. Hardink plunged right in with Echoes’ White Veil by Jason Eckardt (b. 1971). This work supposedly inspired him to view “virtuosity” as a door to the sacred, so to speak. The piece, based on a prose poem by W.S. Merwin, is very active, with a few strategic oases of calm. I did not have the score available to study prior to this concert, so I am only reacting to what I heard in the moment. The sheer ferociousness of Mr. Hardink’s commitment translated, often, into ferociousness of keyboard attack, which I felt served this particular music very well. I heard the “bolting of the gates of Thermopylae” as though it was happening right next door, more than anything else.

Mr. Hardink then turned his attention to the hermetic, contemplative “second series” of Images for piano by Debussy. In the first two in particular ( Cloches à travers les feuilles and Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut), depicting bell-sounds through leaves and moonlight on a former temple, Debussy seems to have almost achieved a state of “musical Nirvana,” that is no longer goal-directed. I say almost because they are not entirely free of human regret and a unique kind of Debussyian pessimism. Here Mr. Hardink’s tonal sensitivity was a pleasure, though for me there can always be more sonorous layers of bells (at the beginning)—most players give up after defining about four of them, Mr. Hardink reached six by my count. Passages marked très en dehors (very brought out) were often minimized. The final movement, Poissons d’or, about a pair of Japanese carp on a black lacquer bowl in Debussy’s possession, though played in the “correct” tempo, seemed jammed, and a bit lacking in elegance and wit.

The first half concluded with Xenakis’ evryali, meaning either “open ocean” or one of the snake-haired Gorgons. This was truly terrifying, and I mean that in the best possible way. The instrument thundered, and the occasional written-out silences only increased the tension. By the way, Mr. Hardink played all these fearsome scores (the whole program in fact) completely from memory.

After intermission, I had more to take issue with. The first group consisted of four of Liszt’s Transcendental Etudes, revised twice from their initial version. Again, Mr. Hardink’s boldness of approach I could accept as legitimate—he plunged headlong into every one of them, with tempi that were quite rapid (though indicated as such). Liszt’s music could have used more expansion, grandeur, and rubato. Sometimes we need to “help” the composer’s music to sound even “better” than it is. Singing lines needed to sing more. Also there was some rather eccentric “post-modern” pedaling instead of the daring mixtures that Liszt requests. The rapidity of execution was impressive (remember, there’s nothing typical audiences love more than speed and volume), but it robbed the discourse of time to blossom, and Feux follets (Will-o’-the-wisps) was technically uneven in the beginning (after the introduction). The famous Harmonies du soir (Evening harmonies) were stripped of their strategic fermatas—amid the welter of notes, there’s always an opportunity for contemplation. The Wilde Jagd became strident and hectic, though I realize the score quite often encourages it.

The concert closed with four of Messiaen’s Vingt regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus – twenty “looks” at the Christ-Child. These complex pieces showcase Messiaen’s celebrated fervent Catholic mysticism, and they are quite sincere, even when, at times, the music sounds a bit like a popular tune with “wrong notes” and all manner of complicated compositional theories attached. They present (appropriately) nearly super-human challenges to any pianist. Mr. Hardink met every one of them, but he was at his radiant best in the final two: Le baiser de l’Enfant-Jésus (The kiss of the Christ-Child: an ecstatic contemplation of a miracle) and Regard de l’Esprit de joie (The look of the spirit of joy) with its near-drunken orgiastic celebration of the holy. There were certain three-note clusters (A-B-flat-B), the last three low notes on the piano, that he played with his fist, a touch that I found unnecessarily rude and inelegant—they could easily be fingered 3-2-1.

I want to emphasize how very impressive this recital was, and how un-routine the programming was. Mr. Hardink’s basic musicality redeemed every selection, even those where I may have mentioned something that stuck out to me; in fact, had the level of excellence not been so high, I might not have noticed the departures from it.

Mr. Hardink excels at a kind of pianism that I would imagine would make him suitable for Boulez and Stockhausen as well, if he is so inclined. At any rate, one doesn’t often hear bravura technique in the service of such committed ideas, so bravo.

Charles Neidich, artistic director, clarinet; Ayako Oshima, clarinet; Cynthia Roberts, violin; William Purvis, French horn; Chloe Fedor, violin; Edson Sheid, viola; Madeline Bouissou, cello

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

February 23, 2019

New York’s intimate and impeccable Wa Concert Series continued its standard of excellence, while opening ears and hearts with a beautiful program of historically informed performances helmed by the veteran violinist Cynthia Roberts. All the musicians speak the grammar of the Classical (or Baroque) period perfectly, yet they never sound like they are giving you a dry lesson on the music. Each piece is lived anew, hence the “new.” Phrasing, articulation, transparency of sonority, sensitivity to harmonic change and chord weight, and flexibility: all were delectable.

The evening opened with the Overture in D Major for two clarinets and French horn, HWV 424, one of the earliest uses of the clarinet, by G.F. Handel, no less. Apparently he knew an itinerant clarinetist in England, one Mr. Charles. This should give lie to those who maintain that Mozart’s re-orchestration of Messiah, with added clarinets, is a blasphemy. In this generally open-spirited Overture (not the prelude to something else, nor the double-dotted grandeur of the French overture), the sequence of movements was pleasant, with beautifully traded-off lines among the three players: Charles Neidich, his talented wife (and every concert’s dinner chef) Ayako Oshima, and natural-horn player William Purvis. The softness of the sonorities made this occasional music convincing, and Mr. Purvis formed every single note with his lips and/or his hand in the bell of the horn, a frightening proposition (just try it). One could imagine open fields and non-threatening military type calls.

Then came a curiosity, a quartet for clarinet and string trio by the Finnish-born clarinet virtuoso, Bernhard Crusell (1775-1838), an early proponent of Mozart’s music in Scandinavia. Unless you were at this concert, or are a clarinet student or fanatic, you have probably never heard a note of Crusell, which is a shame, for his work abounds in proportional elegance, abundant opportunity for display, and once in a while some startling or mysterious chromaticism, and at times it sounds a “bit” Mozartean. The four movement work was given agile life, especially in the alert communication skills of the three strings: Cynthia Roberts, Edson Scheid, and Madeleine Bouissou. As for Maestro Neidich, I run out of superlatives: he extracts every bit of shifting color from his instrument, always truly singing, even during the most fiendishly show-offy passagework.

After intermission came the sublime Mozart Clarinet Quintet, K. 581, a late work whose profundity always astonishes. Mr. Neidich here played the (strange-looking) clarinet that was intended, and used by Stadler, Mozart’s close friend and inveterate money-“borrower.” This large clarinet has a bell that faces inward, at a right angle to the body, and its range is enormous, especially in the deep low register: the octave transpositions that modern clarinet players deface the score with are unnecessary with it. One realizes how perilous these instruments can be, there was a false start just at the very beginning, but it didn’t phase anyone. With the addition to the previous string trio of Chloe Fedor on second violin, the quartet of strings was perfectly in sync, and the balances were utterly refreshing: one was allowed to hear the collegiality of the work, rather than a “diva” statement from either clarinet or first violin, especially with the pleasure these players took in producing the magical aura this piece creates, a radiant smile from Mr. Scheid across the ensemble to Ms. Roberts, for example. Cellist Madeleine Bouissou’s total involvement with the inner life of the lowest voice was a consistent pleasure. The work is in A major, but it is the shifts to minor mode that stab the listener in the heart.

The players offered a true encore: a repeat of the Larghetto (second movement) of the Mozart, which was even more ravishing and intimate the second time.

Hwaseong City Chamber Orchestra with featured winning soloists

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

February 21, 2019

Though many decry what seems to be a cultural decline and lack of discipline in today’s younger generation, there are always rays of hope, and this listener encountered a dozen of them this Thursday at Weill Hall. Twelve young soloists, as winners of the Hwaseong City Music Competition, flew over from South Korea to perform concerto movements with the Hwaseong City Chamber orchestra – and they represented their nation well.

Though the orchestra was small (two winds and around thirteen strings), and understandably given the small stage of Weill Hall with a Steinway grand, the ensemble was valiant, and the soloists were as well. What could have been a marathon evening simply flew by as the parade of extremely accomplished youngsters gave their all, each for about ten minutes. Sadly, their ages and other information were not listed. The conductor led the ensemble admirably, though astonishingly his name was omitted from the program as well (more on that last issue later).

The first performer, violinist Chae-Lin Suh, played L’inverno (Winter) from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. With a full sound and assertive musicality, she boldly set a high bar for the concert. Occasionally (and possibly with help from adrenaline) she seemed to have a slightly edgier tempo conception than the accompanying ensemble, but as the piece continued, she seemed to energize the group towards her way of thinking. One couldn’t help wishing that there had been an easier way for her to connect visually with the conductor who led from behind her with little chance of eye contact unless she did a one-eighty, but fortunately some expert ears were at work. One doesn’t want to guess Ms. Suh’s age, which could have been anything from fifteen to twenty-four – but suffice it to say that she is already quite an elegant young lady with much potential.

Cellist Man-Jung Kim strode onto stage next to play Popper’s Polonaise de Concert, Op. 14 (first year university, as one gathered from nearby audience members who said they knew him). It was an impressive performance full of élan. He ably negotiated the treacherous high notes in the early cadenza and was unafraid of using expressive slides to convey the grand Romantic spirit. At times the orchestra had some scruffy moments (as one had thought also in the Vivaldi – inevitable perhaps when each instrument is exposed without the cushion of larger forces), but Mr. Kim fared well. He was also somehow able to impart the occasional oblique nod and glance as a cue – well done!

Violinist Jung-Ho Byun dazzled next with the Introduction & Rondo Capriccioso of Saint-Saëns. Looking somewhere in the upper teens in age, he played with a brilliant sound and an impressive degree of accuracy in its most challenging passages. If the sixteenth rests at the opening struck one as surprisingly literal compared to freer versions, he found his comfort zone quickly. It will be wonderful to hear this young player in a year or so to see whether this very famous showpiece will acquire that “tossed off” quality alongside his already considerable technique.

When the little violinist Eun-Seo Cho walked onstage next, there was a slight gasp from some the audience, as she looked no older than perhaps ten years old and played nothing less than Sarasate’s Zigeunerweisen. She handled it with a mature grasp in the passionate Roma melodies and effortless spiccato bowing in its pyrotechnics. This reviewer was ready to jot down how this or that was not quite up to Heifetz’s rendition, only to stop with the realization that my own socks are older than this child, so let it suffice to say that she was amazing. (Now, won’t it be difficult to take that all back if one finds she is actually fifteen and has availed herself of some youth-enhancing technology? Well, then we’ll talk – but she would still be exceptional.)

Just when one thought that prodigies can’t come much smaller, in marched pianist Ye-Seo Nam, looking all of about six or seven. Surely there was some sort of Matryoshka nesting doll backstage – in which case, what could possibly be next? Not to lag behind, though, young Ms. Nam made easy work of Haydn’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in F major – not the third movement as listed in the program but the longer and more involved first movement, which had her fully engaged and moving to the music from the opening orchestral tutti. Her fleet fingers (even with the tricky thirds) may have occasionally needed a bit more “traction” to rein in the speed and keep in perfect alignment with the orchestra, but all in all she was outstanding.

After a bit of onstage shifting to move out the concert grand, the next player entered, pianist Yu-Na Kim, seemingly in her mid to late teens. In some ways, despite the advantage of a few more years, she deserves extra respect for her poise in following such pint-size players (scene-stealers who inspired the famous W. C. Fields advice, “Never work with children or animals”). Ms. Kim sailed through the third movement of Chopin’s Piano Concerto in E minor with grace and authority. The only minor suggestions would be to make some rapid phrase ends less clipped and perhaps to change color and character more in the E-flat major section. Then again, she was impressive simply for pulling off this challenging movement so beautifully with what must have been very little rehearsal (given so may soloists). She also is to be admired for treating the piece as chamber music; at one point, for example, she managed in a long upward run to wait on the penultimate note for the slightly lagging orchestra, so that her top note would be right with them – she is on the ball!

After intermission, the concert resumed with slightly older players in general. Baritone Ji-Seok Lee opened singing Hai gia vinta la causa! from Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro. He possesses a magnificent voice, excellent diction, and a commanding stage presence worthy of the Count who delivers this aria. Though there was little in his demeanor (and no gestures) to convey the dramatic aspects of the role, his second selection, Sanchon (or Mountain Village) by Du Nam Cho, elicited his heightened emotions and dramatic involvement – it was a pity that no lyrics were provided. One will certainly look forward to hearing this singer again.

More Sarasate followed, with the Introduction and Tarantella in the capable hands of violinist Sang-Yong Sin. One was becoming rather spoiled by violin virtuosity by this point, but Mr. Sin delivered his solo with tremendous brilliance. The same applied to the next violinist, Hae-Won Choi, who gave a commanding and extremely assertive account of the Praeludium and Allegro of Kreisler (curiously listed on the poster/program with first name “G. P.” rather than Fritz).

Following other players in a group concert is a challenge not to be underestimated, and as the time approached 10PM one felt for these young players. As my colleague Alexandra Eames described so well in a 2011 review (Rutgers Pianists in Review): “To relax and find one’s stride in just one or two pieces is extremely difficult and the performer must go through the same physical preparations (dressing for performance, arriving on time, trying the instrument, etc.) as he would for a full-length recital.  Often the most sensitive artists can be sabotaged by the endeavor, whereas the more arrogant temperaments barrel through their nerves.”

Miraculously there was not a single meltdown the entire evening. Cellist Ye-Won Cho followed with a rhythmic and nimble-fingered account of the third movement of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major, and aside from the almost dizzyingly fast tempo that perhaps stemmed from heightened excitement, her account was excellent.

Two pianists were the last performers, starting with Yu-Min Cho, who took on the thorny third movement of Chopin’s Piano Concerto in F Minor. He honored the score with respect and mature musicality, and it was beautiful to behold. It was only through some overpedaling and smudges towards the end that one sensed some fatigue, undoubtedly from waiting through such a long evening. Mr. Cho has the potential for very distinguished playing.

The role of final performer fell to pianist Min-Sun Kim, and that is not an enviable assignment, but she gave an impassioned performance of the first movement of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2. She was decisive and clear in her interpretation, delivering the work’s well-known lyricism with mature musicianship and a singing cantabile right hand, while also unleashing ample firepower for its peaks, particularly its high-voltage finale. It was a grand finale indeed, and one could only marvel at how the skeletal orchestra behind her rallied to meet her, playing their hearts out. Brava!

All the players returned to the stage for a final colorful bow, and a representative from the competition (whose name was hard to make out if it was indeed announced) remarked that the competition would be arranging another concert here within a year. He also introduced an honored guest (again with a name hard to discern) to present five special certificates, which went to cellist Ye-Won Cho, violinist Eun-Seo Cho, baritone Ji-Seok Lee, and pianists Ye-Seo Nam and Min-Sun Kim.

The Hwaseong City Music Competition’s organizers certainly know how to find talent, and now it is clear that they know their way here – all a good thing! They also appear to have some corporate backers to help make it happen (notably Kia via their poster); it should not take much more, therefore, to fine-tune the presentation itself (as the musicians had done). The program, really more of a concert flyer, seemed rather hastily assembled with too many typographical errors, and there should not have been any question as to the name of the conductor, the correct movement to be played, or the details of the competition itself (still a mystery after some web searching). There is probably also a way to arrange for a French horn or trumpet, even given limited space – but again, the musicians were remarkable.

Bravi tutti!