Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, Distinguished Concerts Singers International,

Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Principal Conductor,

Sir Karl Jenkins, CBE, DCINY Composer-in-Residence

Baidar Al Basri, Ethnic Music Vocalist; Sara Couden, Contralto

Elliott Forrest, WQXR Radio Personality

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 21, 2019

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented another spectacular musical celebration this past Monday on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and the program featured two major choral works by Welsh composer, Sir Karl Jenkins, whose 75^th birthday is marked this year. The first half consisted of the United States Premiere of his hour-long Symphonic Adiemus (including his 1995 Adiemus, reworked and augmented from its version for women’s voices to employ SATB, chorus, and an expanded orchestra). In the second half we heard his well-known Stabat Mater, for which this reviewer covered the United States premiere in 2009, six years before the composer was knighted (when New York Concert Review was still a print-only publication). I wrote then that his music was “direct, appealing, and at times profoundly moving” – and that opinion certainly holds today.

In an age when labels are applied with regularity to works of art as well as to people, the Symphonic Adiemus of Sir Karl Jenkins eludes classification. Though it is built on traditional classical forms, employs classically-influenced harmonies, and requires classically trained orchestral forces, the work is built over a nearly constant rhythmic undercurrent, often syncopated, which seems to invite the sloppy term “crossover.” Thanks to liberal use of African percussion (such as the djembe), Mideastern instruments (such as the riq), a chest-voice style of singing (marked with the word “tribal” in parts of the score), the terms “ethnic” and “world music” get slapped on as well, also not too helpful in an era of constantly intertwining cultures. As Sir Karl Jenkins himself acknowledged during an intermission interview from the stage, “I’ve always resisted categorizing music.” In fact, so averse is he to categories that he created his own language for his Adiemus, in lieu of established texts from any single nation or era.

As Sir Karl writes, “The text was written phonetically, with the words viewed as instrumental sound, the idea being to maximize the melisma … by removing the distraction, if one can call it that, of words. The sound is universal, as is the language of music.” On that premise, Symphonic Adiemus employs syllables text such as, “Za Ma Ba” and “Kayama” and in doing so largely avoids cultural associations and preconceptions. One could argue that “Adiemus” is a Latin word – and it is, of course – but, as Sir Karl recounts, the syllables “Ah-dee-ay-moos” simply emerged from the multitude of syllables, fortuitously corresponding to the Latin word for “we shall approach” (and close to “audiemus” or “we will hear”). As Sir Karl quips, “it could have been a lot worse!”

Musically, the twelve-movement Adiemus is beautifully paced to hold the attention of even the most restless audience – and just when one might be ready to pigeonhole a style or think a pattern formulaic, it all changes.

From the opening percussive blows of its first movement, In Caelum Fero (another case of phonetics emerging as Latin), one senses a heroic adventure ahead, and the brass and ostinati that follow are worthy of an epic soundtrack. One’s imagination supplies the story, especially with such a non-verbal choral part, but several hundred people making music onstage build a case for the hero being humanity itself.

The initial driving energy yields to the gentle Chorale: Za Ma Ba, with long-breathed melodic lines in the chorus and strings, and it is followed by the title movement, Adiemus, known to almost anyone who has been on the planet in the past decade. Associations have long been an issue for composers to reckon with (certainly exacerbated by technology, ringtones, commercial settings, etc.), but if “familiarity breeds contempt” the chant-like Adiemus is holding up quite well!

Nine movements follow, including the delightful Song of the Spirit with its almost raunchy horn licks, followed by Chorale: Elegia, which does not wax elegiac for too long before the ubiquitous rhythms return, now with gentle hand percussion. As if shunning too much of a lull, the next movement, Kayama, opens with a declamatory brass section before the chorus gently re-enters. Two movements entitled Tintinnabulum (parts I and II) follow, bringing the focus to tubular bells, and they provide a refreshing change of color. The highlight for this listener, though, is the ninth movement, Chorale: Cantilena, with its stately simplicity of line, and juicy suspensions and inner lines that tug at the heartstrings. A florid flute solo decorates its central section, and it was well performed. The orchestra throughout was excellent.

After the Cantilena comes Zarabanda, based loosely on the French Sarabande known for its emphatic second beat, but with its more distinctive rhythmic feature here being the constant percussive undercurrent. When the gently beatific Hymn begins after it, without percussion, it is a welcome respite. It is not easy to sustain excitement when there are so many climaxes of all sorts in a work, but thanks to the relative quiet of the Hymn, a resurgence is made possible, and the entire work comes to a rousing close with the Song of the Plains.

One couldn’t help thinking throughout the first half that the neutralizing of the text to mere syllables and the dissolution of certain musical categories are in perfect harmony with the mission of inclusiveness associated with the DCINY organization. DCINY gathers choruses from all over the world, and for this event they had singers from New York, Oregon, Australia, Canada, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Sweden, Switzerland, and the UK, and (as listed in the program) “individual Singers from around the globe.” DCINY regularly reminds potential choristers to come join them, and their extravaganzas frequently fill Carnegie Hall to capacity. It was inspiring to behold their hundreds of singers, old and young, of all stripes, visibly exhilarated by the music and energized by the guidance of Maestro Jonathan Griffith. They also represent the work of numerous choral conductors behind the scenes, and in tribute to one such outstanding choral conductor, Dr. Doreen Rao, DCINY brought her to the podium after intermission to present her with its Educator Laureate Award.

As impressive a feat as it is to create one’s own syllabic language, it is arguably much harder to set music to the Latin text of the Stabat Mater, which has a venerated tradition from Vivaldi and Pergolesi through Verdi, Poulenc, and the present century. Each composer will somehow reflect the musical language of his own era, and yet, irrespective of associations, he must compose in a way that can convey the timeless subject matter of the life of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary.

If one found oneself thinking that some of the Jenkins Sancta Mater seems a bit too redolent of our own day’s epic film scores – one could carp similarly about the Sancta Mater of Rossini, who lets the word “crucifixi” roll just a bit too merrily off the tongue, as if imitating the finesse of his great influence, Mozart. Looking at the bigger picture, the fact is that Sir Karl Jenkins followed his inspiration, and his Stabat Mater goes beyond the European tradition to resembling, as a whole, no other piece.

The central Latin texts are surrounded with those in English, Hebrew, Arabic, Greek, and Aramaic, and include words from the Epic of Gilgamesh and the poet Rumi. The texts are highlighted with the exotic timbres of Arab percussion instruments, which create evocations of the Holy Land. These were used especially effectively in conjunction with pizzicato strings in the eighth movement, Virgo Virginem.

Both chorus and orchestra deserve high praise for stamina as well as overall musicianship. The concertmaster, Jorge Ávila, was as ever an MVP, and Maestro Jonathan Griffith held the masses together in a way that could be described as miraculous. At times, he appeared to be the musical diplomat mediating between the unforgiving precision of the percussion and the giant amoeba of combined choruses – and there were precarious moments – but he was unfailing.

The soloists of the evening were also exceptional. The impassioned “ethnic vocals” of Baidar Al Basri made the second movement, Incantation, memorably stirring – and this listener had originally heard Belinda Sykes, who set a very high bar. Sara Couden’s beautifully penetrating contralto voice was also a discovery, and her superb diction brought clarity to the despairing fourth movement Lament, with text by Carol Barratt (Sir Karl’s wife).

All in all, one was struck once again by what a formidable achievement it all represented. Bravo to DCINY, to all the performers, and to Sir Karl Jenkins – happy birthday, and many happy returns!

Woori Kim, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 26, 2018

The day after Christmas, Woori Kim presented a sophisticated program consisting of 95% Debussy, and one response to (and “continuation of”) Debussy by Canadian-born Joel Hoffman. Generally speaking, Ms. Kim’s keyboard fluency and a good ear served her well in this most demanding repertoire from the point of sonority. She captured the atmosphere of most everything on the program, but if you are a devotee of French music and Debussy is your “God,” then you know “Debussy is in the details.” Ms. Kim had some serious misreadings of phrasing, dynamics, legato, pedaling, and even chords, all of which tended to detract from the good impression she made. I am not referring to the occasional slip, which can happen to anyone. There were more than the usual amount of memory lapses, from all of which she recovered with poise.

The recital began with the elusive, mysterious second series of Images. I was concerned when the first notes of Cloches à travers les feuilles began too quickly—Debussy’s metronome marking is 92 to the eighth note, and the tempo is Lent. It sounded hurried, which deprived the music of the chance to delineate the seven (!) levels of bells that are contained in the first four measures, and farther into the piece, the space for a clear rendition of all the “small” notes. The first two chords of Et la lune descend sur le temple qui fut are marked, respectively, p and pp—there was no difference in Ms. Kim’s performance, although the mood of the movement was beautiful. Every time I was on the verge of being won over, one of these flaws would spoil my total enjoyment. Poissons d’or, the frisky portrayal of Japanese lacquer goldfish on a bowl that Debussy coveted, was played extremely fast, but again without the clarity and sparkle that a slightly more spacious tempo would have given.

Ms. Kim followed with the second book of Debussy etudes, a seriously abstract set of challenges that involve not only dexterity (which is needed to a frightening degree, and which Ms. Kim has) but subtlety of sound. Les degrés chromatiques was very well done, with super-fast lightness. I didn’t feel Debussy’s intended Italian barcarolle mood in Les agréments. Les notes répétées was very successful. Les sonorités opposées had beautiful sounds, though the distant (World War I) bugle call that occurs and recurs was not articulated in the way the composer wished, or with enough sadness, even nostalgia. Very often, when Debussy indicates diminuendo, Ms. Kim would do the opposite, or play mf when it says pp. However, on plenty of occasions in this recital I heard her do breathtaking pp, ppp, even pppp, so I know she is capable of these soft sounds. Les Arpèges composés was again, in the right mood, but lacking precise, exquisite delineation of the sound levels. Les accords was a bit sloppy for my taste. After all, these are frightfully difficult pieces (intentionally so), requiring years of living “inside” them.

The most successful piece on the program was in fact commissioned by Ms. Kim, the brand new étude: pour les symétries by Joel Hoffman. He explained in his verbal and written program notes how the human hands are symmetrical and opposite, yet how much traditional piano training has them working at cross purposes to this natural state—playing “parallel” is much harder than in contrary motion. His etude was a scintillating exploration of mirroring, and it called forth all of Ms. Kim’s brilliance. There were also slight quotes from Debussy works played elsewhere on this program. Overall, it was very exciting and intriguing. I’d like to see eleven more etudes by this composer, played by Ms. Kim, to take their place alongside the Ligeti etudes as a quality modern contribution to the genre.

After intermission, Ms. Kim gave the entire second book of Debussy Préludes, whose adventures in “whole-tone-polytonality” leave far behind everything previously done by the composer, and even predate a lot of the so-called “twelve-tone” composers. Debussy was dismantling traditional tonality in his own way—what makes it so accessible to the ear is his beautiful sonorities. Brouillards, Feuilles mortes, La terrasse des audiences au clair de lune, and Feux d’artifice were the most successful, with Les tierces alternées showing her strength in fast, light playing. In each one of these, Ms. Kim captured the perfect atmosphere, whether the solemn, enclosing mystery of fog, the introspection of autumn, moonlight bathing a sidewalk café, or Bastille Day fireworks. Elsewhere, many of the issues stated above resurfaced: when notes deliberately marked legato are played staccato, it completely changes the character and message. Something that was definitely not in Ms. Kim’s control: the dreadful out-of-tune state of the A below middle C (only after intermission), which was very apparent, as there are so many A octaves in this book of preludes.

Debussy’s scores are so detailed, it seems every single note has three or four indications for how it is to be played, how it follows what came before and precedes what comes next. This generation of French composers was really anti-interpretation. They felt that the performer should really be a talented vessel, receiving and transmitting their carefully crafted messages. Ms. Kim is very close to this ideal, and I hope she will live with all these masterworks much longer, giving them ever closer readings, refining her already considerable pianistic ability.

Her fans don’t care what I think: they rose to their feet for a standing ovation, deserved after such a strenuous program.

Jeongeun Park, Viola; Eric Zuber, Pianist,

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 17th, 2018

Violist Jeongeun Park (https://www.jeongeunparkviola.com) appeared in her New York debut at Carnegie Hall’s Weill Recital Hall this week, delivering some highly admirable performances of difficult repertoire. She has received numerous distinctions in solo, chamber, and orchestral categories in her native South Korea, where she studied with Do-Yeon Kim in Seoul. Her biography states that she has also performed widely in the United States and participated in many programs, including the Aspen Music Festival. Dr. Park is currently on the adjunct faculty of the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music, where she received her MM, Artist Diploma, and DMA under Catharine Carroll Lees.

Dr. Park’s program was an interesting one with a large stylistic and emotional range. The first half included Reinecke’s delightful Three Fantasies for Viola and Piano, Op. 43, and selections from Prokofiev’s well-loved ballet Romeo and Juliet (in a Borisovsky arrangement). Fauré’s ubiquitous Après un Rêve, Op. 7, No. 1, began the second half with stunning Romantic outpourings, and Shostakovich’s profound final composition, the Sonata for Viola and Piano, Op. 147, closed the program.

One knows one is in New York when hearing a fellow audience member actually complaining about hearing the same viola repertoire this week as last (though your reviewer found only the Prokofiev to be duplicated in concert listings); it might surprise the reader to know, however, that, for an instrument which is something of an unsung hero of music, there were no fewer than four public viola recitals (not including group ones) in the concert halls of Juilliard alone – and undoubtedly more, if one includes other New York venues. This listener will not be complaining, though, because most well-written music withstands infinite hearings if played with strong individual commitment.

On this occasion, that individual commitment was certainly transmitted to the audience, though at times it came more noticeably from the collaborative pianist, Eric Zuber. One had a hunch that Dr. Zuber would stand out, as this listener reviewed him glowingly many years ago, well before New York Concert Review went from printed publication to an online one. He is now quite a veteran with more major prizes than one can count, and he enlivened each piano part with his vividness of interpretation and mature musical understanding. From the opening of the Reinecke and on, with its fistfuls of Schumannesque passagework, he was in fact (yes, it is possible) a bit too engaging! One found one’s attention moving more to the piano than to the viola, simply from the intense musicality he projected throughout. No, the reason was not that this listener is a pianist, nor that there was any excessive volume from Dr. Zuber (though the duo probably ought to have set the piano lid on the half-stick, rather than all the way up, as it was for the entire recital); it just seemed that Dr. Park let Dr. Zuber take the reins in more of the recital than one would expect (the collaborative nature of the repertoire notwithstanding).

The three Reinecke pieces made a gracious opening. The duo of Drs. Park and Zuber were right together in matters of tempo and phrasing. A few minor intonation glitches showed what may have been some opening jitters in the first piece, but the second and third movements set sail nicely. Dr. Park showed that she has a beautifully warm sound, especially in the lowest registers.

One couldn’t help wishing that the actual titles of Reinecke’s movements had been listed on the program, rather than mere tempo markings, because it seems worth mentioning that the first piece is not merely an Andante but also a Romanze. It could have enjoyed even more of the feeling that its name suggests. There was, on the other hand, more dreamy spaciousness later on in the center of the second piece (Allegro molto agitato), where 6/8 became 2/4. The third piece, Molto Vivace (also one which Reinecke gave a title, Jahrmarkt-Szene and subtitle, Eine Humoreske), was a good jaunty finish to the set.

On the topic of program notes, there were also a few omissions and errors, including the life dates of Carl Reinecke’s father, listed as “1759-1883” (whose secret of longevity I want to learn!). It is easy enough to understand the occasional typo, assuming some haste, but a New York debut at Weill Hall is worth extra care. Assuming that one of the goals of performing music is to communicate, program notes can help the audience grasp some of what may not be captured in the interpretations. For each listener who has heard several viola concerts in a week, there may also be a listener who has never attended a classical recital but will become the audience of the future.

The first half concluded with Selections from Romeo and Juliet of Prokofiev, arranged by eminent violist, Vadim Borisovsky (1900-1972). Dr. Park’s selections were the Introduction, The Young Juliet, Dance of the Knights, and Mercutio. These were impressive performances in what are virtuosic arrangements, though again – at the risk of asking too much – one wanted more of a sense of the character in each piece. The Knights were not quite as formidable and fearsome as one would like (though the pianist did supply some of the more growling intensity), and one became a bit too focused on the busy-ness and challenges in the Juliet movement; there were some extremely beautiful sounds in the latter, however, especially in the more tranquillo central section.

After intermission came Fauré’s Après un Rêve Op. 7, No. 1, a piece with which Dr. Park seemed completely relaxed and comfortable. It had beauty of phrasing and tone, with just the right liberty of expression. It was good to hear Dr. Park taking a more assertive musical lead.

The Fauré acted as a musical blessing of sorts, before crossing the musical River Styx of Shostakovich’s Sonata for Viola and Piano. Dr. Park was intrepid in this great work, doing some of her finest playing. From the first movement’s searching pizzicato opening and ominous tremolos played sul ponticello (at the bridge of the instrument), she seemed to revel in its most haunting moments. In the central Allegretto movement, where the sheer physical demands require it, her playing was fully involved, fittingly biting, and angular – though perhaps it could have projected still more of its inherent sarcasm. The final movement, with its chilling references to Beethoven, including to his Sonata, Op. 27, No. 2 (“Moonlight”), was played with probing profundity, sending the audience off into a meditative night.

It is a high compliment to performers when one leaves a concert hall thinking about how amazing a composer was, and one did just that after this duo’s Shostakovich. One hopes to hear both musicians again soon.

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra; Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor

Warren Lee, Piano

Danielle Talamantes, soprano; Natalie Polito, soprano;

Claudia Chapa, mezzo-soprano; John McVeigh, tenor;

Peter Drackley, tenor; Christopher Job, bass-baritone

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 3rd, 2018

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) has since 2008 been bringing extraordinary concerts to Carnegie Hall and other venues in New York, and it seems fitting that for the final concert of its 10^th Anniversary season the organization celebrated with arguably the greatest masterpiece in the history of music, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 (the Choral Symphony, Op. 125), preceded by the same composer’s Choral Fantasy, Op. 80.

Beethoven’s much storied (and politicized) Symphony No. 9 was completed in 1824 (three years before he died) as the culmination of several years of intense work, still more years of sketches, and a lifetime of evolution in the mind of a genius. Part of that evolutionary process was the creation in 1808 of the Choral Fantasy, which contains enough thematic kinship to the later Choral Symphony to be considered by some to be a “study” for it, though that assessment seems to be something of an overstatement. The Choral Fantasy is a magnificent piece in its own right, with a piano solo part so prominent that it resembles a one-movement concerto. In any case, however one views the relationship between the two works, to place them one after the other makes for a dream program, musically and musicologically.

The piano soloist for the Choral Fantasy was Warren Lee, whom this reviewer heard just this spring in an excellent program at Weill Hall devoted largely to Leonard Bernstein. Mr. Lee struck one then as a highly thoughtful musician, and his performance in Beethoven’s Choral Fantasy simply reinforced one’s original impression. The Choral Fantasy opens with an extended piano solo, and despite its improvisatory nature, it is deceptively difficult and quite exposed. Each detail must be “just so” as the other musicians onstage, chorus, orchestra, and soloists, wait with bated breath. Mr. Lee handled all of its challenges superbly, with precision and a robust sound in the leaping chords and octaves, fine articulation in the tricky left-hand passages, convincing phrasing in the cantabile moments, and clear projection even at pianissimo levels. As the piece progressed, Mr. Lee showed a keen awareness of the orchestral whole (occasionally seeming almost to conduct), and he effected the changes of tempo and character to its “Turkish” section with convincing drive and energy. His collaboration with excellent conductor Jonathan Griffith was strong.

Only around three quarters of the way through this twenty-minute work do the solo voices and chorus enter, and they were substantial forces with which to reckon. Among the soloists for (just the Choral Fantasy, and not the Ninth Symphony), were the excellent singers Natalie Polito (soprano) and Peter Drackley (tenor), whose voices projected their noble entries with strength and clarity, in combination with the quartet of singers for the Ninth (Danielle Talamantes, Claudia Chapa, John McVeigh, and Christopher Job, about whom more will be said later).

As usual, DCINY gathered forces from far and wide, including choruses from across the US (Alabama, California, Georgia, Idaho, Massachusetts, Michigan, Montana, and Texas), as well as international choruses from Germany, Hong Kong, and New Zealand, and, as DCINY states, “individual singers from around the globe.” The collective sound was formidable.

Hearing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in live performance is a thrill which must be experienced to be believed – and it doesn’t get “old.” As the music has been heard in reductions and excerpts and arrangements of all kinds, there are undoubtedly many more people who feel they know it than ones who actually know it in its entirety, as it is a colossal undertaking for any orchestra, plus chorus and soloists. Thanks are due to DCINY for once again broadening the musical horizons of the large audiences they reach. They gave a powerful performance of the work, under the always masterful leadership of Maestro Griffith, and to tremendous ovations.

In matters of balance from section to section, clarity of motive, and technical polish within sections, all was performed at a high level. Ensemble was precise, and there was clear unity of conception in each movement.

If one could generalize about DCINY, one might say that their “specialty” in a sense is in performances of uplifting energy. Accordingly, the most successful sections in their rendition were the more overtly joyous ones – and no, it is not all “Joy” in the Symphony of the famous Ode to Joy, because the very first movement, for one, is long, probing and weighty. Most memorable perhaps in the DCINY performance was the second movement with its precise opening attacks in and almost frenetic energy. The buoyancy of the C major sections was downright infectious, and the winds shone in the 4/4 D major parts, which were magical.

The third movement, Adagio molto e cantabile, was beautiful, though perhaps missing the utter transcendence of some of this reviewer’s favorite performances; the final movement, however, after patient and artful building of energies and sonorities from double bass on up, was glorious. The quartet of soloists was superb.

It was a joy to hear the return of the outstanding voices of Christopher Job, bass-baritone, and John McVeigh, tenor (both performing by permission of the Metropolitan Opera). Mr. Job had the first vocal lines of this predominantly instrumental work, and he sang with a big tone, clear diction, and tremendous drama. The vocal quartet and choral section that followed generated such excitement that right after the words “vor Gott” the audience burst into applause. The Alla Marcia which followed was then irresistibly rhythmic, with Mr. McVeigh giving his lines a pulsing energy.

Claudia Chapa, mezzo-soprano, has been heard numerous times in DCINY performances, and her strong, warm lyricism never disappoints. Her voice blended beautifully with that of soprano, Danielle Talamantes, who is for this listener a new discovery and navigated the perilous high registers easily right up to the final “flügel Weilt” before the prestissimo “last hurrah” of the work.

Prolonged thunderous ovations followed the finale, and one left marveling at what a surfeit of gifts Beethoven brought to the world with his music. Of course, it takes live performances to carry these gifts to the next generation, and a special debt of gratitude is owed to DCINY for its hard work from both Co-founder and Director Iris Derke (who spoke eloquently between works) and the Co-founder and Artistic Director, Maestro Jonathan Griffith. Bravo to all of the musicians – and here’s to the next ten years of DCINY!