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Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents The Music of Eric Whitacre in Review

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Eric Whitacre, composer/conductor

Kelly Yu-Chieh Lin, piano

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall. New York, NY

April 28, 2019

I haven’t attended one of DCINY’s reliably excellent massed-choir events in some time, so I’m happy to report that they took their already high standard to a new level with Sunday’s presentation of the music of one of the great choral leaders in America today, Eric Whitacre. The choirs are meticulously prepared by their individual directors prior to coming to New York for what must be an intense, perhaps even frantic, couple of days’ worth of rehearsal with the main conductor, in this case, Mr. Whitacre. He has the magic that imparts unanimity to diverse forces, for this was one of the most nuanced choral evenings I’ve ever heard, everything from thunder to whisper and every shade between. Kelly Yu-Chieh Lin, his collaborative pianist, was also superb.

More than 450 singers gathered (about half employed on each half of the program), mostly from high schools and academies in the US and Canada, with a few other international outliers. Everything was introduced charmingly and concisely by Mr. Whitacre.

The lion’s share of the program was devoted either to compositions or arrangements by the Grammy award-winning Mr. Whitacre, with two spirituals filling in nicely. He seems to know everyone in the business, not just musicians, but also poets, so everything on the program was related.

Mr. Whitacre’s strength lies in his ability to write luscious, flowing, lyrical (for the most part) choral textures that are enriched by the “cluster” technique (think Ola Gjeilo, Paul Mealor), which gives an emotional “cloud” or aura to the traditional tonal underpinnings of the pieces. He music is challenging enough for high-school age performers without being impossible, and full of gratifying substance for the listener.

The program opened with Mr. Whitacre’s arrangement of The Star-Spangled Banner, a touch that lent a certain sincere, old-fashioned quality to the whole. I recall when many events began with it, after all, the three stages in Carnegie Hall each display an American flag onstage to the audience’s left. Now, I like my anthems, well, “anthem-y,” that is, not too artsy, but when it is as high-quality as it was here, I can’t really object. Only the chord cluster under the final word “brave,” seductive as it was, seemed to me to impart a moment of doubt rather than fervor (perhaps I watch too much cable news!).

Then came one of Mr. Whitacre’s greatest hits: Lux Aurumque (also the title of an album), translated as “Light and Gold,” though I prefer “Golden Light.” The Latin is a translation by Mr. Whitacre’s friend, poet Charles Anthony Silvestri (more on him below) from an English original poem by Edward Esch (rare, one usually translates from Latin). The expression of awe at the birth of the Christ child was rapturous, the control exhibited by the choir breathtaking. The work was created in 2000, but really took off as part of Mr. Whitacre’s “Virtual Choir” project in 2009, involving amateur and professional choirs from 120 countries.

The City and the Sea comprised five poems of E.E. Cummings. Here, the sophisticated poetry made perfect word understanding difficult, always a hazard for larger choirs. Only Robert Shaw seems to have been able to solve this problem definitively. The texts to all the works were printed in the program however, so one could relax and take in the choral subtext added by the music. In fact, here’s a topic for another time: At what point does the choral sound “itself” become the message, even more important than whatever words are being rendered?

The Seal Lullaby (text by Rudyard Kipling) is the remnant of a film project that never materialized (instead, the studio made Kung Fu Panda!). Thank goodness Mr. Whitacre didn’t destroy it, for it forms a very touching and effective piece for choir—the mother seal singing to her baby.

Another Cummings setting, i carry your heart, was prompted by a friend’s seventh wedding anniversary. This was another stunner along the lines of Lux Aurumque. The radiance created by the clusters was the perfect metaphor for human love.

Cloudburst (text by Octavio Paz), is an almost literal depiction of the quiet of nature preceding a thunderstorm, and the rain itself, involving handbells, light percussion, and the snapping of hundreds of fingers that resulted in an uncanny sonic rainstorm (at one point even the audience was invited to contribute).

After intermission and choir-switch, Five Hebrew Love Songs were accompanied by a string quartet and tambourine. They were sentimental, as one would expect in a love song, of course, and very well-sung.

Then came the two zany volumes of Animal Crackers, to the silly, fun miniatures of Ogden Nash: Panther, Cow, Firefly; Canary, Eel, Kangaroo. Here one glimpsed a less lyrical side of Whitacre, with sharp bursts of humor in the brief lines, just cute enough in their delivery. I did feel that it was almost an embarrassment of riches for these texts, and that they might come off better by a smaller chamber choir (just me, the audience ate it up!)

Home, a movement from a larger work titled The Sacred Veil, is another work set to Mr. Whitacre’s friend Charles Anthony Silvestri’s poetry. We learned that the poet’s wife died of cancer way too young, and in coping with his grief, he was led to theorize about a realm perhaps mysteriously connecting the living and the dead. The section titled “Home” is about the moment when the poet realized that he was in love with the woman who would become his wife; who gave him the sense of “home.” What a lovely tribute from one friend to another, and to the departed.

Two traditional spirituals followed: Elijah Rock, and The Battle of Jericho, both arranged by Moses Hogan, another friend of Mr. Whitacre (hence the connection) who also died too young (age 47). The energy was high in these, and the choral sound that resulted was quite different from Mr. Whitacre’s spun lines. That he was able to reveal it so well attests to his quality as an interpreter.

The evening ended with Sleep, and Mr. Whitacre told an anecdote about having originally set Robert Frost’s Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, but then being prevented from performing it or publishing it by the estate of the poet. Enter Silvestri. Mr. Whitacre had him fashion a poem with the same metric structure, to fit the existing music, and the result is this beautiful evocation. The choral diminuendo on the final word “sleep” (coincidentally, also the last word of Frost’s poem) went on repeating, each time softer, until one thought it couldn’t get any softer, and then it did. Amazing. I lost count of how many “sleeps” there were, a very good sign, since it means that I had surrendered my critical faculties to the music. Bliss.

The audience, formed primarily of friends and family, roared, and that moment at the end of each half when the “home” choral conductors are recognized always produces the biggest applause, so proud each of them must be.

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

Long Island Concert Orchestra with Julia Zilberquit in Review

Long Island Concert Orchstra

Jason Tramm, conductor; Julia Zilberquit, piano;

Good Shepherd Church, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

April 27, 2019

The Long Island Concert Orchestra (LICO) under Principal Guest Conductor Jason Tramm brought an all-Mozart program to the Good Shepherd Church near Lincoln Center this past weekend, playing three iconic works including the Piano Concerto in A major, K. 488 with pianist Julia Zilberquit. Though still a young group (founded in 2016), the orchestra is already faring well under the energizing baton of Mr. Tramm and the guidance of Executive Director, composer David Winkler.

The evening opened with a vibrant account of the ever-popular Overture to The Marriage of Figaro, a perfect choice to precede the A Major Concerto, which was composed the same year as that opera (and completed just weeks before the premiere of it). The rousing style of Mr. Tramm set a tone of excitement, and though the LICO ensemble is not large, their sound was robust. They transmitted its driving energy and established its sense of imminent drama. The harmonic foundations were well grounded by a superb double bassist who sounded like a full section by himself – perhaps with some help from the church’s live acoustics. The sizable audience applauded warmly.

Enter soloist Julia Zilberquit, with regal deportment and clad in brilliant sparkling silver. Hailing from Russia, she has established her credentials well, including solo performances with orchestra (American Symphony Orchestra and the Moscow Virtuosi, among others) and recordings on the Harmonia Mundi, Warner Classics, and Naxos labels. As Ms. Zilberquit has recorded the complete Bach Solo Keyboard Concertos, it did not seem like a stretch to expect from her the precision and detail required in a Mozart Concerto – and in general she did not disappoint.

Julia Zilberquit, Pianist

The opening Allegro movement seemed off to a good orchestral start but there were some signs at the first solo entrance that there was not a true meeting of the minds, tempo-wise. Early on, some piano sixteenth notes seemed to run away, not quite dovetailing with the orchestra, and though this can often be the case near the opening of a concerto, the issue recurred. One is inclined to blame this (and some sketchy attacks and cutoffs) on acoustical issues. Synchronization can hard to achieve when articulations are obscured, and when rapid passagework tends to feature outlines and underpinnings; as a result, the need for more metric projection became clear, which tended to shackle even some solo passages (notably the imitative piano theme in the recapitulation). In any event, the musicians pulled it off, and the mastery in this magnificent piece shone through. Thankfully, Ms. Zilberquit chose to play Mozart’s own cadenza, bringing the movement to a fine closing tutti.

The profound Adagio movement (in the singular key of F-sharp minor) revealed much more about the pianist and her expressive style, and keen listeners were rewarded. Though the opening theme offers numerous expressive possibilities which were bypassed, Ms. Zilberquit turned out to be saving her expressive emphasis for the theme’s final measure, emerging as a player of long lines. It is always interesting, when reviewing, to need to revise one’s immediate reaction, and some of the most thought-provoking interpreters invite this retrospection. Ms. Zilberquit interpreted this movement with unique thoughtfulness. Her final Allegro was brimming with Mozart’s inimitable spirit, including very playful articulations towards the end. It was a delight!

Much to one’s surprise Ms. Zilberquit responded to the hearty ovation with not one but two encores. First, she played an arrangement announced as Bach Siciliano (the Largo from the Vivaldi-Bach Concerto in D minor, BWV 596). It was a stately offering, not unrelated to the siciliano elements of the Mozart slow movement. One was mystified, though, by her next selection, announced as a Shostakovich Waltz (the Lyrical Waltz from Shostakovich’s Dances of the Dolls), which had been given a “beefed-up” treatment complete with glissandi. It didn’t seem in keeping with what one had admired about her style in the Mozart.

The evening concluded after intermission with Symphony No. 40 in G Minor, K. 550. Accurately described by Charles Rosen as “a work of passion, violence, and grief,” this masterpiece is one of Mozart’s most loved and most frequently performed works. Mr. Tramm’s interpretation was simple, to let the music speak without resorting to any “novel “approaches, which was an intelligent choice. While one might have wished for more pathos in the opening movement, the net result was still compelling. The second movement Andante’s lyric qualities were brought forth with sensitivity. The third movement’s angry Menuetto was played with a good dose of agitation without lapsing into grotesqueness, while the trio, passed from strings to winds, cleared the storm clouds. The finale, launched with a “Mannheim rocket,” was played with vigor, bringing the evening to a successful close. The performance, to be sure, was not without some issues (notably balance and some cracked notes), but it showed the promise of good things to come from this orchestra.

The Long Island Concert Orchestra returns to the Good Shepherd Church for a program titled “Tango with Orchestra” on May 17, 2019.

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

The National Music & Global Culture Society Presents “From East to West” in Review

Eldbjørg Hemsing, violin; Nargiz Aliyarova, piano

Bruno Walter Auditorium, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

April 24, 2019

One may not often see links between the cultures of Norway and Azerbaijan (okay, you’ve got me – none ever crossed my mind!), but the excellent pairing of Norwegian violinist Eldbjørg Hemsing and Azerbaijani pianist Nargiz Aliyarova made a compelling case for just such connections this week at Bruno Walter Auditorium. Playing works of Ali-Zadeh, Garayev, and Melikov from Azerbaijan, and Brustad and Grieg from Norway – along with a Prokofiev opening – they gave a uniquely stimulating recital entitled “From East to West.” The program was subtitled, “Prokofiev Violin Sonata No. 2 and Works from Azerbaijan and Norway,” but the Russian role in the evening’s theme seemed to be that of a musical bridge (alluded to in Dr. Aliyarova’s comments about the influence of Russian teachers on both performers and their chosen composers). The focal roles of Norway and Azerbaijan were underscored in Dr. Aliyarova’s introductory remarks, including references to the Norwegian explorer and ethnographer Thor Heyerdahl, whose Azerbaijan-Viking theories have invited discussion years after his death (the reader may find more about these fascinating but highly debated hypotheses here Thor Heyerdahl Azerbaijan-Viking theories.

The evening was almost too tantalizing in too many directions to assimilate, so there is definitely ore to be mined for numerous future lecture-recitals; the overarching theme, however, was one of global unity. In that spirit, Dr. Aliyarova, the director and founder of the National Music and Global Cultural Society, presented this recital as part of the stated mission “to bring people of different ethnic groups together through their national music to global culture.”

Matching the intensity of the stated mission was an intensity in the duo’s opening performance of the Prokofiev Sonata No. 2 in D major, Op. 94. The work is often heard in its original version for flute and piano, but Prokofiev transcribed it later for the legendary violinist David Oistrakh, and numerous violinists have since adopted it into their violin repertoires. Ms. Hemsing and Dr. Aliyarova gave it an exciting account, exhibiting the technical and musical versatility to accommodate myriad changes of spirit, mood, and tempo without loosening the grip of its neoclassical restraint. Ms. Hemsing proved to be a violinist of consistently pure and refined sound, conveying well Prokofiev’s placid lyricism at the opening, from which its ever wider expressive range grew. The boisterous accents in the vigorous Scherzo were just right from both players, and the sinuous chromaticism of the Andante had an intoxicating sway to it. A memorable moment was the brief F-major section in the final movement – played with a special ethereal quality. Dr. Aliyarova was the assured collaborator throughout, projecting the music’s brilliance and humor – the latter especially in the “piano exercise” moments of the last movement.

Ms. Hemsing took the program to Norway next with a work listed as Fairy Tale for solo violin by Bjarne Brustad (1895-1978). It combined a pesante fiddler’s style with silky improvisatory flights, and its tonal language brought to mind how Bartok might have sounded had he been Norwegian. Ms. Hemsing spoke of it evoking the trolls of Norwegian folklore, and she played it with captivating whimsy. The piece seemed to fall into sections and perhaps was actually the Fairy Tale Suite one has seen listed elsewhere, but, while it would have been better to have more specifics on the printed program, the spoken introduction – and playing – did spur the listener’s imagination. Ms. Hemsing is an exceptional violinist who has also championed on disc the largely forgotten Norwegian composer Hjalmar Borgström (whose work sadly we did not get to hear). Her other repertoire has ranged from Bach, Beethoven, and Bartók to Tan Dun (for whom she recently premiered a violin concerto with the Oslo Philharmonic). To read more one can visit eldbjorghemsing.info.

Dr. Aliyarova closed the first half with an arresting solo, Music for Piano by Azerbaijani composer Franghiz Ali-Zadeh (b. 1947 and currently living in Germany). Ms. Ali-Zadeh composed the work in 1989 (publishing it nearly a decade later), and in it she used a prepared piano technique to evoke the plaintive sound of traditional Azerbaijani music (presumably the tar, a lute-like string instrument). The “preparation” was Dr. Aliyarova’s placement of a chain on the piano strings to create a buzzing metallic timbre on a selected set of notes (including a very prominent, hypnotically repeated middle F-sharp), allowing traditional piano tones to ring out above it in quasi-improvisatory outpourings. Ferocious toccata-like passages in the bass alternated with the more songful sections, both of which the pianist imbued with great emotion. Dr. Aliyarova was a compelling interpreter for this work and is clearly a dynamo who combines excellent pianistic skills and artistry with her role as presenter and educator. More can be learned at her website: www.nargizaliyarova.com

Having heard a piece by Franghiz Ali-Zadeh, we were treated after intermission to music of Ms. Ali-Zadeh’s teacher of piano and composition, Gara Garayev (1918-1982), one of the leaders in the Azerbaijani music world. Garayev’s Adagio for violin and piano from his ballet Seven Beauties brought a lush, tonal style not far from the language of Borodin and some Khatchaturian (as in the Adagio from Spartacus), and the duo reveled in its unabashed Romanticism. Garayev was himself a pupil of Shostakovich and thus could act as a connection to the Russian master for his own students, including for Arif Melikov (b. 1933), whose work we heard next. Melikov’s Monologue from the ballet, Legend of Love reflected some of Garayev’s expansive lyricism but with even more exotic flavor to its lines. Dr. Aliyarova and Ms. Hemsing melded well to convey the spirit in both pieces.
The concert was capped off by a Norwegian composer who needs no introduction, Edvard Grieg, whose Sonata No. 3 for Violin and Piano in C minor, Op. 45 is enjoying a busy spring (including a performance this reviewer was assigned to write up just a few weeks ago). It was given an impassioned performance here by both musicians, but Ms. Hemsing emerged as a particularly powerful interpreter for her countryman, delivering in each note and phrase the vividness and nuance that one hears more often from opera singers. Dr. Aliyarova was excellent in her handling of the work’s myriad challenges, only occasionally allowing accompanying parts in the piano to overpower the violin. Some of the nasty octaves and passagework in the last movement slipped a bit from her grasp, matters which might have been resolved by reining in the tempo a bit, but the duo had a “go for it” spirit which deserved admiration. After all, a few imperfections only remind an audience that these are human beings.

On the subject of being human comes one reservation for the evening: in live performance the performer (who is human!) should not be subject to the distractions of cameras moving around, especially on stage. One assumes that the wandering of one photographer onto the stage (in a bright red shirt, no less) may have been condoned at least initially by the performers, probably for purposes related to the ever-encroaching forces of social media, but it was a distraction for audience and performer alike and an affront to the music itself. It also implies, even if obliquely, that some virtual audience in the future matters more than those who traveled and made a point of being present.

Another reservation was the lack of program notes about the music itself, because, if the mission is to draw connections, notes can help to educate beyond the scope of some rather offhand comments from the stage. Though one could argue that most works can be researched online these days, the same could be said of performers’ biographical notes, which in this case were fairly extensive. Web links to the biographies might have sufficed, allowing room in the program for a bit more content about the composers and works themselves. That said, one looks forward to this organization’s further musical explorations.

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

The Center for Musical Excellence (CME) presents Brannon Cho in Review

Brannon Cho, cello

Victor Santiago Asuncion, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 22, 2019

On April 22, 2019, The Center for Musical Excellence(CME) presented 2015 CME Artist Winner Brannon Cho in his Carnegie Hall (Weill Hall stage) recital debut. CME Founder and Director Min Kwon spoke briefly before the recital about CME, and to explain the four-year gap between Mr. Cho’s award and his debut by explaining that CME did not want to rush, but to allow Mr. Cho to continue exploring opportunities. It appears that Mr. Cho has been quite busy since then, and, given the quality of his performance on this evening, he should continue to be for the foreseeable future.

Mr. Cho and pianist Victor Santiago Asuncion took the stage and opened with Boccherini’s Sonata in A major, G.4 (the first two movements only). A sunny work, it was an ideal opener. Mr. Cho’s beautiful singing tone, combined with razor-sharp articulation, made one eager for what was to come.

Following the Boccherini came Matthias Pintscher’s Figura V/Assonanza (part of a larger work Figura I-V for String Quartet). With fluttering ultra-soft harmonics and sounds of atmend (breathing), it has an eerie, atmospheric quality. Mr. Cho’s playing was mesmerizing, even if one was left wondering whether this was meant to be chiefly an exercise in special effects. In any case, it showed Mr. Cho’s versatility as an artist.

More mainstream fare came next with Brahms’s Cello Sonata in E minor, Op. 38. Brahms entitled it Sonate für Klavier und Violoncello with the intent that the pianist is not merely a background accompanist, but a full and equal partner. Completed in 1865, the sonata is Brahms’s homage to J. S. Bach and uses material from Contrapuncti 4 and 13 of The Art of Fugue, as Mr. Cho reminds us in his program notes. This work always brings to mind the famous story associated with it, about Brahms and the cellist Robert Hausmann, its dedicatee. Hausmann was playing this work with Brahms at the piano, and Brahms was playing so loudly that Hausmann remarked that he could not hear his cello. “Lucky for you!” was Brahms’s reply! This listener thinks that the gruff Brahms would have been delighted with this performance. The rapport between Mr. Cho and Mr. Asuncion was striking, each attuned to the other as if they shared a single mind. The opening movement was filled with the feeling of sorrow, but also the glimmers of hope, as the duo robustly conveyed. The second movement Menuetto was played with charm. The finale was thrilling in its mutuality of conception. The large, and very enthusiastic audience gave the players a standing ovation. It was one of the finer performances of this masterpiece this listener has heard.

After intermission, Mr. Cho opened the second half with Benjamin Britten’s Cello Suite No. 1, Op. 72. The first of three suites written for and dedicated to Mstislav Rostropovich, it is inspired by Bach’s cello suites and Rostropovich’s cello playing. It is a haunting nine-movement solo cello work, with a beautiful opening canto that repeats several times in later movements, each time with an increasingly disturbing tone. The movements that surround the canto suggest memories, some playful and childlike, and others of a nightmarish quality. The ending is manic, with a final angry outburst in its final notes. The challenges are immense. The cellist must not only deal with the technical demands (which are considerable), but also convey the almost manic mood changes while trying to maintain the sense of structure and continuity for the work’s twenty-plus minutes.

There was none of the coughing or fidgeting from the audience that one often hears/sees in a work of this type – indeed, their attention was locked to the stage with utter silence. This listener was completely transfixed, experiencing the joy, the innocence, and the nightmares, as if privy to a particularly emotional therapy session. To convey this musically was something extraordinary. It was my favorite performance of the evening, and it is still resonating in my mind as I write these lines.

After the emotionally demanding Britten, it was time for Mr. Cho to have some fun, and this took the form of Sarasate’s Zigeunerweisen, Op. 20, a staple of the violin repertoire. Why should violinists have all the fun? In an arrangement by Hans Jørgen Jensen (Mr. Cho’s teacher at Northwestern), Mr. Cho let loose with a performance that many a violinist would be hard pressed to equal. With all of the Roma soulfulness coupled with the scintillating virtuosic fire, Mr. Cho’s playing exceeded all expectations (and for full disclosure, this reviewer heard Mr. Cho in a 2015 performance on YouTube as pre-concert preparation, so there was already some idea of what to expect). The audience leapt to their feet in a loud ovation, which almost seemed an insufficient response to such a dynamic performance!

Mr. Cho offered two encores. The first, Chopin’s Etude, Op. 25, No. 7, as arranged by Alexander Glazunov, was announced from the stage by Mr. Cho. The heartfelt melody was played with melting beauty by both players. The second, with the grandiose title “Concert Paraphrase on ‘Largo al factotum’ from Barber of Seville” (sometimes simply called “Figaro”), arranged by Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco, was not announced, but it is highly likely that most made the Rossini connection. It is a sure-fire crowd pleaser. Mr. Cho played it to the hilt, with wit, whimsy, and brilliance.

After such a showstopper as the Zigeunerweisen, this reviewer had reservations about doing another such piece as an encore, lest it diminish the effect of the “serious” works (especially the Britten) – and yet it was a savvy move on his part to whip the audience into a frenzy. It worked – the audience loved every second and once again reacted with an extended standing ovation.

Mr. Cho is an artist to watch – mature beyond his years as a musician. Yes, he has technique to burn (and he is not at all shy about using it), but he pairs this with a fine sense of line and phrase shaping. He knows when to “breathe,” and does not hurry, letting the sound linger organically, without “chopping” phrase endings. Mr. Asuncion deserves high praise as well for both his attentive collaboration as well as his assured technique. I hope to hear this duo again in the future.

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

Romanian Cultural Institute presents “Four Strings Around the World” : Irina Muresanu in Review

Irina Muresanu, violin

Romanian Cultural Institute, New York, NY

April 12, 2019

This event was the first in a new concert series presented by the Romanian Cultural Institute called “The Enescu Soirees of New York.” To paraphrase the printed program, these concerts will be designed to showcase cultivate and promote Romanian music through chamber music concerts featuring Romanian, American and international performers. The namesake of the series honors Romania’s most prolific and revered composer, George Enescu. Tonight’s soloist, violinist Irina Muresanu, is the series musical advisor.

And what a beautifully constructed program she chose for this inaugural concert. Called “Four Strings Around, the World,” a showcase of works for solo violin by composers from four continents with pieces inspired by the folk music of Europe, the Middle East, Asia and the Americas. (It is available on a just issued Sono Luminus CD.) Fittingly, the first work was Enescu’s Romania – Airs in Romanian Folk Style. Although composed in 1926, this evocative composition remained in manuscript form until it was published in 2006. This was its American premiere. I say evocative because its combination of rhythms, bent notes (notes that to us sound slightly “out of tune”) and rubato phrases immediately told us that this work was from Eastern Europe. (In fact, “evocative” could be applied to all of the folk-song-derived works on this concert.) Ms. Muresanu produces a voluptuous rich sound and I was most impressed by her impeccable control while playing violin harmonics. It took but a few minutes to realize that we were hearing a master violinist.

We then moved on to Ireland with David Flynn’s Tar Éis an Caoineadh (After the Keening). Written in one continuous movement, this work consists of four dances which might have taken place at a traditional Irish wake after the ritualized keening (mournful display of sorrow and wailing). Traditional Irish wakes were a celebration of the life of the deceased and often had professional keeners, lots of alcohol, and lots of music. Each dance illustrated techniques employed by famous Irish fiddlers including droning double-stops, playing near the violin’s fingerboard (sul tasto) and near the bridge (sul ponticello). I again marveled at Ms. Muresanu’s fabulous technique. Needless to say, the work ended with a joyous Irish jig.

Departing from the folk music theme of this recital, Ms. Muresanu then performed J. S. Bach’s monumental Chaconne in D minor from his Partita BWV 1004. After hearing her performance of the first two works, I wasn’t surprised that she was up to the many technical hurdles of this most demanding masterpiece. The string crossings, and the double and triple stops were perfectly executed with seeming ease, but I found the performance, with its use of lots of vibrato and big crescendos, too romantic in style. However, as she kept the audience mesmerized for almost fifteen minutes and then received one the evening’s longest and enthusiast round of applause, I’ll stop my Baroque nitpicking.

After a brief intermission we began a musical and visual tour which took us to Iran, India, China, Argentina, and the United States of America. The visuals which preceded each piece were projected on a screen behind the performing space. They included pictures from each country, audio of the type of music on which the works we were to hear were based, and printed text about this music. While this was happening, Ms. Muresanu would be off stage changing into clothes suggesting the country whose music she would be playing. This was a wonderful touch.

Iran (Persia) was first on this tour. As with most of the folk-influenced works on tonight’s program, Reza Vali’s Calligraphy No.5 utilizes a musical scale which differs from that used in compositions such as Bach’s Chaconne in D minor. As a scale is determined by how the octave is divided (how many pitches are used, and what are the relative frequencies of these pitches), the more a culture’s scale differs from that we are used to, the more exotic it sounds. I marveled as to how Ms. Muresanu, a “classically” trained musician who has spent a lifetime playing the notes of “our scale” in tune, performed Mr. Vali’s carefully notated “out of tune notes” with such confidence and skill. She had already shown this skill playing the “bent notes” during the two folk-like works on the concert’s first half.

Next on to India for Shirish Korde’s Vák (for solo violin and electronic drone.) As much of Indian music utilizes a drone (one or two notes continuously sounded throughout a piece), Ms. Muresanu’s performance was supported by a two-note drone prerecorded on her mobile phone. Then on to the music of China, which utilizes a pentatonic (five-note) scale. But, to me, Bright Sheng’s The Stream Flows didn’t sound very Chinese. I thought I heard many half-steps (intervals like B to C) which are not found in the pentatonic scale. And Astor Piazzolla’s Tango Étude No.3 didn’t evoke the dance that I know, but the flower on Ms. Muresanu’s dress did.

Although I found the last three works less interesting than those of the rest of the program, I was still kept engaged by the magnetism of Ms. Muresanu’s playing, always exhibiting a rich sound, impeccable technique and beautiful phrasing.

This wonderful concert concluded with two contrasting works from the USA. The first, Oshta (Four) by Jerod Impichchaachaaha’ Tate. Born in Norman, Oklahoma, Mr. Tate is a citizen of the Chickashaw Nation who has infused his music with aspects of his American Indian heritage. Quoting Mr. Tate: “Oshta is the Chickashaw word for the number Four and became the title of this work in the spirit of [Irina Muresanu’s] Four Strings Around the World project.” Oshta, based upon a 19^th century Choctaw church hymn, was for this reviewer the evening’s most beautiful work.

The concert’s finale was a foot stompin’, rip roarin’ rendition of Mark O’Connor’s rousing The Cricket Dance. This was Bluegrass fiddling at its best, as Ms. Muresanu, country music hat on her head, pulled out all the stops.

What an auspicious beginning to this new concert series whose next concert will be a June 7^th recital by the Romanian-Nigerian pianist Rebeca Omordia.

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

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