James (Zijian) Wei, piano

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 26, 2025

One of the joys of reviewing in New York is seeing a rising talent from another country blow into town with boundless enthusiasm and gifts galore, and such was the case this weekend with the Zankel Hall (Carnegie) recital of Chinese pianist James (Zijian) Wei. Mr. Wei is the 2024 Mixon First Prize winner of the Cleveland International Piano Competition (CIPC), and the presentation of this important concert by Piano Cleveland was among his generous prizes. 

As anyone witnessing the proliferation of competitions can attest, few performers win an award without vying for a dozen, but to succeed in multiple competitions says something about a performer’s drive, broad appeal, and the stamina needed for a career. Mr. Wei’s distinctions have been many, including the First Prize in the 2017 Changjiang Cup National University Piano Competition, the Grand Prize in the Professional Category of the 2018 Huanglong Music Season Piano Competition, First Prize in the 2018 Jianfa Gulangyu International Piano Competition, and Third Prize in the 76th Geneva International Music Competition, as well as the receipt of the Rose-Marie Huguenin Award in 2022. In addition to being the 2024 Mixon First Prize winner in the CIPC, he won CIPC’s Best Chamber Music Performance Award, Henle Verlag Urtext Special Prize, Audience Choice Prize, and Young Judge Prize. Mr. Wei has also played with quite a few orchestras, particularly in China, where his teachers have been Jay Pengjie Sun, Liu Xi, Galina Popova, and, since 2016, Danwen Wei at the Central Conservatory of Music. Based on the snippets of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3 and others that this reviewer has heard from young Mr. Wei (just 26 years old), he excels as a passionate concerto soloist, which is a good thing, as he is apt to have a full plate of those. Sunday, though, he was a recitalist, and he impressed as a performer with much to say.

Mr. Wei burst onto the stage of Zankel Sunday with enormous energy, and his excitement was infectious. Though his first half was solidly from the classical era –  pairing Mozart’s Piano Sonata in A major, K. 331 (yes, the one with the Rondo alla Turca last movement) with Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 101 (also in A major) – the second half would offer contrast with Scriabin’s Sonata No. 5, Op. 53, Barber’s Excursions, Grainger’s Ramble on the Love Duet from Der Rosenkavalier of Richard Strauss, and Ravel’s La Valse. It was apparent from the start that Mr. Wei is a pianist who enjoys adventures and extremes. 

Mr. Wei took a quiet moment of meditation before his Mozart, as if for something sacred (which, after all, music is), and he began with an ethereal tone one rarely hears in this first movement. He lavished each phrase with affection, flexibility of tempo and the occasional left-preceding-right luxuriance. Some call such a style over-Romanticized, self-indulgent, or precious – and this reviewer too generally prefers a bit more restraint – but it was hard to resist Mr. Wei’s emotional responses. 

Mr. Wei’s Mozart also reflected a sense of liberty that was striking in this oft-played work. Surprises abounded, from the first movement’s elaboration added in the repeat of the fifth variation, taking us at one point up to the modern piano’s highest D (which of course did not exist on Mozart’s instrument) to his quiet end to the movement – the opposite of the robustness one expects. It was clear that Mr. Wei is a performer who goes his own way. The Menuetto was memorable for its spirited operatic contrast, and the Rondo alla Turca enjoyed delightful articulations and nuanced dynamics from one iteration to the next. In fact, one wished he had observed all the repeats later in the movement, but he seemed focused on driving the momentum to the boisterous finish (for which he took the left hand chords an octave down). The audience seemed enthralled. 

There was a slightly more reverent approach to Beethoven’s Op. 101, and it was welcome in this shining masterpiece. Mr. Wei projected all the warmth of its opening movement and all the energy of the subsequent march. Much of the Adagio was simply sublime, and the mastery shown in the last movement’s challenging fugato was admirable. 

The program after intermission was a dream for such an extroverted pianist, starting with Scriabin’s Piano Sonata No. 5. Your reviewer has actually never heard this piece’s opening attacked with more savagery. The ride that followed was wild, with Scriabin’s own eccentricities magnified by the pianist’s own uniqueness. The languido moments were like perfume, and the volando sections seemed to take literal flight. It was brilliant, and all seemed improvised from the pianist’s own spirit and prodigious technique. 

The Barber Excursions that followed were excellent overall, though this reviewer, having some strong attachment to these pieces, found some unsettling surprises, one arising rather conspicuously in the third piece. The lay reader may want to skip to the next paragraph, but suffice it to say that the groups of seven at mm. 49-55 were played with the second quarters of each measure becoming eighths in what then resembled an ordinary 6/8 meter. Unless there is some edition out there unknown to me, that interpretation strays beyond “liberty” into the category of a misreading. It may sound picayune, but much of the heraldic joy of the piece stems from this section’s first two quarters being equal in each measure – which can be achieved simply by counting to seven eighths. The final rustic movement was charming.

Every recital is enhanced by the inclusion of a rare gem, and that gem here was Percy Grainger’s marvelous Ramble On The Last Love-Duet, arranged from Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier. Its lush harmonic language was magical, and it made a perfect transition to Ravel’s La Valse, which closed the program. In La Valse, as if all were not virtuosic enough already, Mr. Wei added octaves where many pianists struggle for just single notes. Despite the occasional glitch (and for this musician an occasional longing for a bit more waltz continuity), it was a tour de force, greeted with a long and excited standing ovation. 

Two encores followed, first Wencheng’s Autumn Moon on a Calm Lake popularized notably by Lang Lang some years ago) and then the beloved Schumann-Liszt Widmung. Both were lovely additions to an exciting afternoon. Kudos go to Zijian Wei and to Piano Cleveland!

Rachel Youngberg Payne, Mezzo-Soprano, Jack Tyndale-Biscoe, Piano

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 26, 2025

A completely delightful concert took place this Sunday, the New York Debut at Weill Hall of Duo Atlantis, a collaboration between mezzo-soprano Rachel Payne and pianist Jack Tyndale-Biscoe. The program, entitled “Echoes Across the Atlantic” blended British and American art song, including music of Edward Elgar, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Benjamin Britten, Muriel Herbert, and Bear McCreary (b. 1979) from the UK, plus selections by Samuel Barber and Aaron Copland representing the US. This duo connected much more than the two already-related cultures. Drawing inspiration from the ocean between the two, plus the shared human experiences of  “travel, love, memory, and humanitarian stories” (as their Carnegie summary states), they communicated with each note, connecting with their audience and reminding us how deeply we all are connected. It was a thoughtfully conceived program to make us laugh, cry, dream, and wish. All of that would mean little, though, if they had not performed it superbly as musicians – and they did indeed.

Opening with two selections from Elgar’s Sea Pictures, Op. 37, the duo set a haunting tone first in Sea Slumber Song, starting with Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe’s atmospheric piano introduction. It is usually a matter of just a minute or less before this reviewer finds a nit to pick with singers, but Ms. Payne started off beautifully and continued so, with a pure and rich tone, true and focused intonation, and thoughtful and communicative phrasing. Any vocal imperfections were transmuted by the alchemy of her expressiveness. She clearly shared in the intensity of the piano part as well, “living” each entire piece, not just her part – which ought to be the norm, but one sees the opposite all too often! Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe, showing consistent mastery, drew no attention to himself, simply serving the music and realizing it expertly. His piano introduction to the next Elgar selection, Where Corals Lie, picked up the pace and captured just the right restlessness.

The next pieces were a wonderful surprise, which this reviewer can’t recall ever hearing in concert: selections from Children’s Songs by Muriel Herbert (1897-1984). Ms. Payne announced them as “charming and disarming” – and they were just that. Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe didn’t miss a trick in setting the tone for – and punctuating – these miniatures, each one finishing in a wink. We enjoyed the whimsy of Merry-go-Round,the acrobatics in the growing of The Tadpole, the happy affirmation of differences in Jack Spratt and finally The Bunny, which was simply adorable. At one point in the concert Ms. Payne mentioned from the stage that she has children to whom she sings, and it does seem that such basic musical directness is an integral part of her magic onstage.

Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe spoke eloquently to introduce the next works and he more than lived up to his tantalizing descriptions with his playing. The duo gave a dreamy reading of Samuel Barber’s Nocturne from Four Songs for Voice and Piano, Op. 13, and then crossed the musical ocean to perform two selections by Ralph Vaughan Williams, his Let Beauty Awake from Songs of Travel and Silent Noon from The House of Life. The “poetry and philosophy” that Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe had spoken about in these songs were both evident to a poignant degree, with both musicians savoring the warm and wistful creations.

Not a duo to avoid humor, they delighted next in Benjamin Britten’s Calypso from Cabaret Songs, a musical “race” to get to a train station, appropriately here, Grand Central. It was all that Mr. Tyndale-Biscoe had described it to be- “playful, ironic, and theatrical.”  Lest we grow too lighthearted, two of Copland’s Old American Songs followed to bring us to tears, The Little Horses and At the River, closing the first half with further reminders of children and community – both themes at the center of the premiere after intermission.

The second half of the program was devoted to the world premiere of Dragon’s Blood:  A Four-Part Song Cycle for Voice, Piano, Harp, Cello, and Percussion composed by Emmy-winning (and, in the UK, BAFTA-winning) composer Bear McCreary. Set to a heartbreaking text by screenwriter J.D. Payne, the song cycle spotlights the impact on children of cobalt mining in Congo, using a “dragon” in a cave as a metaphor for the harm that can come to children from such work. Incidentally, the concert was co-sponsored by Floodlight, an organization involved in promoting ethical industry practices, and the performance of this song cycle certainly made a powerful statement towards that end.

It was not as radical a shift as one might think from the first half’s music to this troubling story, as thoughts of children were already in the air. In fact, for an audience immersed just moments before in Herbert’s carousels and Copland’s “little horses” lullaby, the descriptions of an innocent young Congolese boy with dreams of sunlight and warm bread were simply devastating. Mr. McCreary’s score, an immediately accessible and colorful one, was conveyed with all the agony of the situation, but also with some hope in the final rallying cry to the community. The Atlantis Duo was as powerfully communicative as ever, responding to the text and music with just the right sensitivity and drama.

Credit to the cellist, harpist, and percussionist should not be omitted. The harpist Karen Tay helped evoke the beauty of childhood, while the cellist Wangshu Xiang created the ferocious growls of the titular dragon. Grace Goss on percussion added intensity throughout. If any of these names are incorrect, that is from a hasty search to find out who they were, as they were not listed on the program (with surely some administrative glitch responsible). Anyway, the overall effect was potent, and undoubtedly the audience was moved to learn more and to do more. An encore of Mahler’s Urlicht capped off the recital, with a panel discussion on the Dragon cycle to follow, to delve into it all further. Sadly this reviewer could not attend, but it did seem that no further words were needed after such a moving afternoon of music.

Performers and composers presented by the Mayflower Art Center:

Joanne Kang, Foo Jeng Wong, and Maxwell Lu, piano;

Yeji Pyun and Sara Salomon, violin; Clara Cho, cello; Daniel Lamas, viola;

KaiChen Cheng, flute; David Valbuena, clarinet

Youngwoo Jeon and Yoon Sang Timothy Cho, conductors;

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

October 25, 2025

An evening of music by twelve promising – and in several cases much-lauded – young composers took place this weekend at the National Opera Center as part of the 2025 MusicON Festival under the auspices of the Mayflower Art Center, an organization offering education and support to young aspiring musicians. As the three-day festival was held from October 24th to October 26th, and this reviewer only attended the October 25th concert, a reader wanting to grasp the full scope of the festival will be able to find more about the other evenings by other reviewers at this site.

Meanwhile, as co-hosts Tianzhe Chen and Emily Bai announced at the concert, MusicON is in its fourth year, having worked with musicians of twenty countries and regions, featuring more than fifty performers and presenting 141 musical works. This year’s offerings featured thirty-eight composers, including six finalists in this year’s MusicON International Composition Competition, eleven works by invited composers, and twenty-one compositions by students of the Mayflower Art Center. Though Saturday’s concert included “only” twelve works, there was a dizzying amount of information to process, including which works were composed by those designated as Guest Composers, Honored Graduates, Emerging Composers, or Finalists of this year’s competition. Sadly there were no biographical notes on anyone, nor any program notes on the music, but more on that later.

Starting with highlights, one work will linger in this reviewer’s mind, and that is a piece called Syriac Fugato 2 by young Lebanese composer Sami Seif (Finalist in this year’s competition), as performed by Yeji Pyun on violin and Daniel Lamas on viola, both of whom performed standing up for the first time in the evening. The piece resembled a vocal improvisation passed between the two instruments, sometimes with strained hoarse sounds suggesting moans or crying out, but conjuring an overall sense of desolation throughout. There was effective use of  a wide range of techniques – from bouncing bows and tremolos to microtones and slides – but it was the focus on a single tone, departure from it, and return (with humming at its close from the violist) that helped give the piece its compelling unity and humanness.

Another piece memorable for its sheer sense of adventure was Jetlag  by Yiming Jia (Honored Graduate), performed by violinist Yeji Pyun, cellist Clara Cho, and pianist Foo Jeng Wong. Synchronized sweeping string slides against the rather jazz-infused piano part – along with several rapid tempo changes – gave the piece a disorienting effect one can only assume was meant to evoke the title condition. The overall impact was dreamy and humorous at once.

Among pieces one may need to hear twice to fully fathom was the closer of the program, Two Islands, by Fabian Leung (Honored Graduate). It overflowed with lush harmonies, interesting ideas, and contrasting styles, perhaps a few too many for this listener to assimilate in one hearing, but it was certainly brimming with energy and potential. As with all the works on the program, it was given a dedicated performance by skilled musicians – here, pianist Joanne Kang, violinist Yeji Pyun, cellist Clara Cho, flutist KaiChen Cheng, and clarinetist David Valbuena, with Yoon Sang Timothy Cho conducting (yes, due to the rhythmic challenges in much of the music on the program there were conductors listed even for some trios and quartets).

One comment on the overall concert was applicable here, that though it seemed there was much happening in the music, the listeners were left in the dark, figuratively speaking. It would not be too much “spoon-feeding” to illuminate the performances with some ideas of what each composer intended in each work (as audiences still benefit from program notes for music in very well-known styles, after all). Several composers were in attendance, and a few words from them (or printed notes) about their inspiration could have guided the listeners’ ears through some of the unknown territory.

Moving to the many other works on the program, there was as the opener, Silence Of Lost Songs in Extinction by Xinze Shi (Emerging Composer), played by pianist Joanne Kang, violinist Yeji Pyun, and cellist Clara Cho, with conductor Youngwoo Jeon (the latter whom at that point I could not see, before moving from the back of the hall). The performers navigated its mercurial shifts well, from the acerbic opening dissonance to more tonal glimmers from the piano, and on to quasi-Baroque sections, presumably among the “lost songs” to which the title refers.

A Short Conversation Without Words by Winston Schneider (Guest Composer) found pianist Foo Jeng Wong, violinist Yeji Pyun, cellist Clara Cho, and clarinetist David Valbuena wending their way persuasively through the piece as it developed from an expressive opening clarinet solo to more ominous and searching interchange.

Water Makes Many Beds I by Olex Li (Emerging Composer) was also rather cryptic, but the title seemed appropriate for some of the flowing, quasi-impressionistic sections. Pianist Joanne Kang and violist Daniel Lamas captured a floating feeling at times. Showing still more aquatic inspiration was Cerulean Cascade by Albert Lu (Emerging Composer). Though the music did not overtly convey a sense of the work’s title throughout, it explored numerous appealing effects from slides in the strings to flutter-tonguing in the flute part. The players – pianist Foo Jeng Wong, violinist Sara Salomon, cellist Clara Cho, flutist KaiChen Cheng, and clarinetist David Valbuena, seemed to handle their parts well, and conductor Yoon Sang Timothy Cho kept the flow with a solid beat in what seemed to be some metrically nebulous writing.

The Tree Has Seen Nothing by Cyrano Jett Rosentrater (Guest Composer) set up an interesting mystery of pleasant and contrasting sounds, though, as with other selections, one could only guess at the composer’s intent. Flutist KaiChen Cheng, violist Daniel Lamas, and guitarist Luis McDougal built it from its placid opening to a shrieking peak, before it receded into a gentle ambling guitar part and fadeout to the flute’s final quavering.

Fi by Maxwell Lu (Honored Graduate) found the composer serving as pianist himself, along with clarinet Jefferson Sheng. The word “Fi” means quite a few things, so again it would have been great to have some guidance via program notes. The innumerable repeated treble notes in the piano found the able clarinetist adding his lines to the texture and joining in exploration before the return to the high treble repeated notes. Crack by Sofia Jen Ouyang (Guest Composer) possessed yet another title with many meanings. Pianist Foo Jeng Wong joined cellist Clara Cho and David Valbuena on bass clarinet. The piece was filled will interesting effects from its explosive opening through to the end.  More furious repeated notes were heard in Torque by Asher Lurie (Finalist), performed by pianist Foo Jeng Wong, violinist Yeji Pyun, and cellist Clara Cho. The exploration of subtly changing rhythms along with gradually expanding intervals was intriguing. One could almost imagine the rotational tension suggested by the title.

Tangle by Jingya Huang (Finalist) was then performed by a string quartet. Violinist Yeji Pyun, violist Daniel Lamas, cellist Clara Cho were listed – though there was another violinist not listed, who appeared to be Sara Solomon (though it is hard to say based on one’s view of the stage). Conductor Youngwoo Jeon kept the group on course from its measured beginning and ostinato-like sections right up to its dramatic final chords, played with ferocity.

Undoubtedly, we will be hearing more from many of these performers and composers, and one looks forward to following their development.

Vocal Artists Management Services

James Greening-Valenzuela, manager; Gretchen Greenfield, artistic consultant

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

October 16, 2025

Vocal Artists Management Services (VAMS) presented their Seventeenth Season Artist Showcase on October 16, 2025, in the Marc A. Scorca Hall at the Opera America National Opera Center. Sacred music from Bach (St. Matthew Passion and Mass in B minor) and Mozart (Mass in C minor), and arias from Gounod, Puccini, Donizetti, Weill, Lehar, and Verdi were the thirteen selections performed by eight artists. A brief synopsis of each selection was included in the program notes. The eight artists in order of appearance were Sarah Benzinger, Michael González, Andrew Egbuchiem, Tom Sitzler, Ann Folger, Stacey Stofferahn, Alexandria Crichlow, and Nelson Ebo. Eric Malson once again was the pianist tasked with accompanying these singers, which he did with his customary excellence as one has come to expect. VAMS founder and manager James Greening-Valenzuela greeted the audience and also lent his talents as a violinist in the Bach selections.

Six artists had multiple selections, while the remaining two had a single selection as a duet. In the interest of fairness, I will select a highlight for each artist. This is not to say that all selections were not worthy of attention, as they of course were.

Let’s start with the duet first, “O terra addio” from Aida, with tenor Nelson Ebo and soprano Alexandria Crichlow singing the tomb scene. As I have written previously about Mr. Ebo, he is a passionate performer who offers the maximum in both his singing and acting. Tonight was no exception. While it might have been a bit too much for the small confines of the hall, it brought much needed energy to the evening. Ms. Crichlow was much less animated, but still brought forth the emotions of Aida with a dignified expressiveness.

Soprano Sarah Benzinger is listed as an “Emerging Artist” on the VAMS roster. Her offering of “Regnava nel silenzio” from Lucia di Lammermoor convincingly captured the spooked/unsettled quality of Lucia. Ms. Benzinger particularly excelled in the extreme high register, with exquisite control and pure tone without a hint of strain. She is a fine addition to the VAMS roster and has great potential. Soprano Stacy Stofferahn’s “Meine Lippen, sie küssen so heiß,” from Lehár’s operetta Giuditta, had the right amount of saucy naughtiness, dancing on the edges of burlesque without ever truly crossing over. It was delightful fun. Mezzo-soprano Ann Folger was playfully taunting in both voice and acting, in “Que fais-tu, blanche tourterelle?” in Gounod’s Romeo et Juliette.

 I have been witness in past performances to the vocal gymnastics of countertenor Andrew Egbuchiem, but tonight he offered  J.S. Bach’s “Erbarme dich” from the St. Matthew Passion with a child-like purity of tone that was simply angelic.

Tenor Michael González’s selection of  “Where is the One Who Will Mourn Me When I’m Gone?” from Kurt Weill’s Down in the Valley was – surprisingly to me – my favorite of the evening. I’m not always fond of what I find to be the cynical underpinnings of Weill’s music, but this was something different! With the bluesy accompaniment and the heartbreaking despair projected by Mr. González, the emotional impact was undeniable. Last, but not least, baritone Tom Sitzler “brought the power” as the enraged Ford in “È sogno? O realtà?” from Falstaff. His is a strong voice, perfect for the fury this aria demands.

Congratulations to all the artists.

Modus Operandi Orchestra

Justin Bischof, conductor

Chloé Kiffer, violin

Merkin Hall, Kaufman Music Center, New York, NY

October 15, 2025

The Modus Operandi Orchestra (MOO), under the direction of Justin Bischof, presented a concert entitled “Modus plays Mozart @ Merkin”- an all-Mozart program at Merkin Hall on October 15, 2025. Violinist Chloé Kiffer was the featured soloist in the Violin Concerto No. 5 in  A major (“Turkish”), K. 219. Opening the program was the Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K. 550, and closing it was the Symphony No. 41 in C major (“Jupiter”), K. 551.

The program included extensive biographies of the conductor, soloist, concertmaster, guest conductor (not even appearing on this program), and the orchestra itself. As for the music itself, not a single word. Why is the 41^st symphony called “Jupiter”? Why is the violin concerto called “Turkish”? What cadenza(s) did Ms. Kiffer play? Joachim? Her own? Yes, Mr. Bischof does talk about the works in a light, accessible manner, and this is always a nice touch, but by necessity it is always short. This is not the first time I have said this – not everyone is an expert, nor do they wish to do post-concert research, so some written notes about the program would enrich the concert experience.

Even though the Symphonies were not played consecutively, for this review I will pair them together, but will start with the Violin Concerto. Violin soloist Chloé Kiffer took the stage with Maestro Bischof. This was not their first collaboration, as Ms. Kiffer had previously played the Coleridge-Taylor Violin Concerto, as reviewed in these pages. The first thing that caught my attention was that Ms. Kiffer was using an iPad, with a foot pedal for page turns. This seems to be a growing trend.

This concerto is not a demonic display of pyrotechnics a la Paganini, but that does not mean it is without virtuosic demands. One must “sing” but also dance around the intricacies with an almost off-handed elegance. Failure to meet these requirements results in what could be described as lumbering or heavy. The orchestra must join in kind. Ms. Kiffer played with a rich, singing tone that she projected with a natural ease – there was nothing forced or contrived about it. The small confines of Merkin Hall make any tonal imperfections manifest, but when an artist of Ms. Kiffer’s caliber plays, the listener is rewarded with a true sense of immediacy that would not be possible in a larger concert hall. Her stage manner is notable – engaging without any excesses or histrionics, etc. The passagework was crisp, light, and accurate, making it look simple when it is anything but (the occupational hazard of a highly skilled player)! The cadenzas had the right amount of “fire” that showcased her virtuosity while keeping in character of the work. Incidentally, to answer one earlier question, her cadenzas were by Joseph Joachim. (As for the other question, the “Turkish” name comes from the use of so-called Turkish music, and the same A major-minor shift that appears in the “Rondo alla Turca” in K. 331.)

The rapport with the orchestra was excellent, and both MOO and Maestro Bischof were as deserving of praise for their outstanding work as Ms. Kiffer. The audience gave them a well-deserved standing ovation.

As Maestro Bischof related, the last three Mozart Symphonies were written in 1788 in the space of three months (!). To just get the notes on the paper for three symphonies in that time would be challenging enough, but to complete three fully-formed masterpieces is simply mind-blowing. Maestro Bischof also related that Nikolaus Harnoncourt was of the opinion that these three symphonies were conceived as one grand work (I disagree). There Is also debate on whether or not Mozart heard these symphonies performed in his lifetime. (Answer to earlier question: According to Mozart’s son Franz Xaver, the impresario Salomon gave the 41^st symphony the nickname “Jupiter.”)

The 40^th symphony exists in two versions (the second has the addition of clarinets). The autograph scores of both versions were acquired by Johannes Brahms (who later donated the manuscripts to the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna). The version sans clarinets was played.

The 40^th symphony is one of the most frequently performed and recorded works of Mozart. With its tragic underpinnings and passionate nature, it foreshadows the Romantic era by several decades. From the reading of Maestro Bischof and MOO, it was clear that they understood that Mozart provided everything and a successful performance is one that honors the score. One might have wished for a bit more simmering mystery in the opening movement, but it was still very effective. The lyrical second movement was played with grace. The angular, defiant minuet of the third movement had the right amount of “growl” that gave way to a gentle and elegant trio, played with suitable charm. The finale, launched with a Mannheim rocket, was played with vigor. Other than a few isolated instances of imbalance between the strings and the winds, this was a fine performance.

The 41^st Symphony was the final work on the program, and the dictum “save the best for the last” was certainly in play here. One might wonder if Mozart was aware this would be his final symphony, as he unleashed the full power of his unmatched genius (complete with a quintuple fugue in the final movement!). It could be argued not only is this work the greatest “classical” symphony, but the greatest symphony of any era. Maestro Bischof and MOO came fully prepared. There were no half-measures – the playing was polished, involved, and highly energetic, almost at times to the point of overexuberance. This latter point is only a minor criticism, as seeing and hearing passionate playing is always preferable to the workaday playing one often sees. If this was the first time for an audience member hearing this work, then they were given an outstanding “introduction.” To this listener, it more than held its own with any number of performances and recordings he has enjoyed. The audience reacted with an enthusiastic standing ovation. Bravo Maestro Bischof and MOO!

Hyunjung Choi, Heesoo Shin, sopranos; Boosung Park, tenor; Seoyong Lee, bass/baritone

Dohyun Lee, piano

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

October 4, 2025

On October 4^th, JH Arts & IC Artists presented Whispers of Fall, the third in their 2025 series of concerts, in the Marc A. Scorca Hall at the Opera America National Opera Center. Arias and songs from Poulenc, Verdi, Clara Schumann, Rachmaninoff, Puccini, Tosti, and Rossini were performed by the four vocalists: Sopranos Hyunjung Choi and Heesoo Shin, tenor Boosung Park, and bass/baritone Seoyong Lee.  Each half concluded with a selection featuring all four singers. In addition to these vocal selections, two solo piano works, Mélancolie, FP 105, by Poulenc, and two of the four Skazki (Fairy Tales), Op. 26, by Medtner, played by Dohyun Lee, rounded out the program. Dohyun Lee was also the accompanist for the evening.  The hall was filled with friends and supporters of these artists, which is always a pleasure to see.

As I have noted in previous reviews at this venue, the Marc A. Scorca Hall has the intimacy of a salon, with very live acoustics that give the listener a sense of immediacy not felt in larger (or less acoustically live) venues. Texts for the selections were provided, with English translations – which is always appreciated. I would advise the presenter in the future not to use a microscopic font on the program flyer – it was impossible to read without resorting to a magnifying glass.

Instead of commenting on the program in a strictly linear fashion, I will comment on each artist separately. As pianist Dohyun Lee opened the program, I will start with him. His performance of Poulenc’s  Mélancolie (written in 1940) conveyed much of the emotional impact without becoming overwrought. There were opportunities to project the obvious allusions Poulenc was making to war-torn France more deeply, but the overall effect was excellent. The Medtner Skazki were well-played, and not without charm, if somewhat undifferentiated. Dohyun Lee does deserve major kudos for his superb work as an accompanist – he was rock-solid all evening.

Let’s move now to the sopranos, Heesoo Shin and Hyunjung Choi. Ms. Shin’s offerings were a Poulenc song set  and a Puccini aria. “Tu, che di gel sei cinta” (Turandot), issung by Liù as she is being tortured, just prior to her suicide. Puccini himself wrote the words for this aria, and the librettists decided they could not improve on his text. Ms. Shin’s projection of Liù’s resolve to maintain the secrecy of the Prince’s identity and her defiance even while being tortured was heartbreakingly poignant. Of the three of Poulenc’s Métamorphoses, FP 121, “Paganini,” stood out – Ms. Shin has a sense of play, and she brought to the quirky text an almost whimsical approach that this listener found irresistible.

Hyunjung Choi’s selections were three of the Sechs Lieder, Op. 13,  by Clara Schumann (with texts by Heinrich Heine), and “Caro nome che il mio cor” from Verdi’s Rigoletto. The second of the lieder, Sie leibten sich beide, was the most compelling to this listener. The tragedy of lost love and missed opportunities that are simultaneously heartbreaking and infuriating in this song are challenging to capture, yet Ms. Choi did so in impressive fashion. It would be easy to overdo either the sadness or the frustration, which would completely spoil the effect. The singing was compelling, but the artistry was what made it exceptional. In the Verdi, her vocal agility, clarity of diction, and range (especially in the extreme upper register) without strain, stridency or loss of intonation, were notable. It all seemed easy, which of course, it is not. This went beyond what one might expect, and it made a strong impression on this listener.

Tenor Boosung Park performed “Quando le sere al placido”  from Luisa Miller (Verdi) and two Tosti songs, L’ultima canzone and Ideale.  The overriding theme in Mr. Park’s selections was sorrow, and that can present its own complications. In the Verdi, the dramatic impact is everything. Emotions abound, and one must be nearly overwrought without being a caricature. Thankfully, Mr. Park showed mastery in pushing the emotional limits to the edges while maintaining a body language of complete composure. If anything, he could have “loosened” up a touch, which would have only enhanced the effect of his strong, confident voice. The Tosti songs were light fare after the emotional wallop of the Verdi. Well done!

Bass-baritone Seoyong Lee gave us arias from Rachmaninoff’s Aleko and Rossini’s Il barbiere di Siviglia. He has a powerful voice that would easily fill any hall, but he also was sensitive enough to make the adjustment to the acoustics of this venue. “La Calumnia” was a delight, as he dealt with the rapid-fire parts with a smile. He is certainly not lacking in charisma, which he projects with a natural ease. All the charisma in the world means nothing without vocal ability, which he has in spades.  The “Aleko cavatina” proved that he is not just about acting – this cavatina is formidable music that requires a formidable singer. The Verdi was great fun, but the Rachmaninoff showed Seoyong Lee is the “real deal” as an artist.

Finally, the  entire group numbers – “Dunque e propio finite” from La Bohéme ended the first half. Without wishing to take anything away from “Mimi” (Ms. Choi) or “Rodolfo” (Mr. Park), the sassy “Musette” (Ms. Shin) and the vexed “Marcello” (Seoyong Lee) stole the show with their antics. “Libiamo ne’ lieti calici”  from La Traviata, one of the most popular and well-known opera melodies, was the final selection of the evening. Seoyong Lee offered a champagne flute to each audience member as he made his way to the stage to join the others, who all had their own glasses. Several audience members happily waved their glasses to the music – some even quietly singing along, in what was a delightful end to the evening. All four performers took a bow together to the applause of the appreciative audience.

Pavel Šporcl, violin

54 Below, New York, NY

October 1, 2025

So you are a classical violinist, and have performed throughout the globe in venues such as Carnegie Hall and Disney Hall, with excellent orchestras as both ensemble member and soloist, under the batons of some of the leading conductors, but you want to branch out in a new direction-what do you do? If you are Pavel Šporcl, you trade in your tux for jeans, recruit some rock musician friends (Keyboardist/Hammond Organist Brian Charette, guitarist Sebastian Skalitzky, and drummer Otto Hejnic), arrange some classic rock hits, and take your act on the road- and yes, you put aside your “normal” violin in favor of one that is blue. You are now the Rebel with the Blue Violin, and you’re ready to rock! The first stop for Mr. Šporcl’s US tour was at 54 Below in New York City, to celebrate the recently released recording Rebel with the Blue Violin (available at Universal Music in both LP and CD). To learn more about Pavel Šporcl, including the story behind his blue violin, visit his website by following this link : Pavel Šporcl – Rebel with the Blue Violin.

Let’s start the obvious – this was not a concert; it was a show. Playing in a club has its own dynamic and unique demands placed on the artist, complete with servers weaving in and out of tables delivering drinks and food during the music, flashing lights, audience members with their phones out taking videos (with the blessing of the performer and the operators of the venue), and calling out selections from the stage for a “set”, instead of a printed program. This reviewer loves concerts and “classical” music, but he also loves shows and can more than hold his own with most as regards “rock.”

After the house introduction, Mr. Šporcl took the stage and immediately launched into a solo which started out as Bach as a springboard, but evolved into an improvisatory display leading to Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir with the band entering. After a little banter with the audience, more Led Zeppelin was on the horizon – Stairway to Heaven. One could say that Mr. Šporcl chose these pieces wisely, as both have riffs that almost anyone would have recognized hearing at some point. even if they didn’t know the group or the title ( although one could claim that everyone knows Stairway to Heaven), and both songs have extended sections for instrumental solos. Mr. Šporcl’s solos in both had the appearance of being improvised in a virtuosic way that was in keeping with the spirit of the music, while showcasing his considerable talent. The Rolling Stones’ (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction got a similar treatment. The audience enjoyed every minute, with some swaying to the music and whistling their approval. Mr. Šporcl also offered two of his own works, Boundless and Surprise, both spirited and having enough “edge” without becoming caricatures of hard rock.

When Mr. Šporcl announced Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, the audience reacted with excited “oohs!” – I suspect this is what brought many in the audience to the show. Mr. Šporcl did not disappoint – this was a showstopper in every way, from the ingenious arrangement to the brilliant playing, capturing the quirky timbres and the mock operatic style with near perfection. It was a tour-de-force in a way one would not expect for a rock song! The audience roared its approval, and I shared their enthusiasm for what was the highlight of the set.

Mr. Šporcl did “sneak” some “classical” into his set. Two Paganini Caprices were his choice, the 5^th as a solo demonstration, leading into an arrangement of the 24^th for rock band, which he called Magic 24. It was a smart choice to select two caprices in the same key, making the transition almost seamless. Movie fans might have recognized the 5^th Caprice from the “guitar duel” scene of the 1986 Ralph Macchio film Crossroads. Mr. Šporcl gave it the razzle-dazzle that was sure to wow the crowd, sort of in the same way countless people do Flight of the Bumblebee. As for Magic 24, it could be likened to Walter Murphy (think A Fifth of Beethoven) without the disco elements, but still with a lot of rhythmic drive. Paganini himself might have enjoyed this romp, as did this listener.

Billie Eilish’s What Was I Made For? (featured in the movie Barbie) was a sweet way of dialing back the frenetic energy of Magic 24. A smoldering Smoke on the Water (Deep Purple) and a thoughtful arrangement of the Beatles’  Let It Be as an encore ended the set. Much praise is due to Mr. Šporcl’s band, who were all stars in their own right.

Mr. Šporcl greeted his many admirers after the show, and no doubt this personable man and excellent musician made new fans this evening. If one likes some good classic rock and wishes to embark on a unique musical adventure, then Rebel with the Blue Violin is something to explore.

Ian Hobson, pianist; Andrés Cárdenes, violinist,

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

September 26, 2025

For those who have missed news of one of the epic piano cycles of the past decade, Ian Hobson is nearing the end of his live New York recital traversal of Schumann’s piano works. Having launched the cycle on February 19, 2020 – just before COVID-19 obliterated concert life as we know it – Mr. Hobson resumed the series in March of 2022 and has enriched New York musical life with several Schumann concerts each year since. As New York Concert Review writer Frank Daykin described Mr. Hobson, he is a “heroic completist.” As such, Mr. Hobson has included not just all of Schumann’s solo piano works (large, small, celebrated, and neglected), but all of Schumann’s chamber works that feature piano as well. On September 26, for the penultimate concert of the cycle, we heard all three of Schumann’s sonatas for violin and piano (Op. 105, Op. 121, and WoO 2) with guest violinist Andrés Cárdenes – a program of extraordinary difficulty and one which many music lovers seemed to know in advance would be a special event. Friday’s crowd filled the Tenri hall to capacity, so Schumann lovers who have not obtained tickets for the final concert on November 7 will want to do so posthaste.

Though this Schumann cycle is by nature piano-centric, it should be noted first off what an inspired choice it was to collaborate with violinist Andrés Cárdenes. Well-matched to Mr. Hobson in terms of his decades of international performances, enormous discography, accolades, and versatility as teacher and conductor, he also plays with a full, rich tone, and a resonance that faces little danger of being overwhelmed even by the typically large sound of Mr. Hobson – or the highly resonant piano at the Tenri Institute. Additionally, Mr. Cárdenes possesses that kind of felicitous technique where there is simply nothing too difficult: he makes child’s play of rapid leaps, double-stops, and often unwieldy passagework, with nary a scratch, stumble, or strain. It was one thing to hear Schumann’s bravura fistfuls on the piano in these works – sometimes so awkwardly scored that they sound like, well, fistfuls – but then to hear some of that same material in the violin part played with such consistently surefire intonation was astonishing.

Hearing all three sonatas in an evening was memorable, and as Mr. Hobson commented after intermission: “We don’t get to hear them very often and certainly not in one recital.” He then pointed out that reverse chronological order had been chosen for the program, with Sonatas No. 3 (WoO 2) and No. 2 (Op. 121) coming before intermission and Sonata No. 1 (Op. 105) closing the program. There seemed a slight implication of having saved the best for last as he announced that the Op. 105 (composed in 1851) is “undoubtedly a masterpiece.” To this listener, that hint of a preference for the earliest sonata seemed evident in the duo’s performance itself. In it the duo found warmth, phrases that breathed, and structural cohesion. There was even a sense of spaciousness that afforded the observation of repeats (generally and wisely omitted in the more taxing works preceding intermission). The Sonata No. 1 was worth the trip by itself.

So, what of the first half of the program? The later Sonatas 2 and 3 did constitute a mammoth achievement simply in terms of the duo’s impressive unity as they tackled the challenging writing – not to mention their stamina – but this listener wanted more from the experience. For one thing, there needed to be more dynamic contrast, particularly on the softer end of things, where the score is marked piano or pianissimo. Such dynamics of course indicate more than mere decibel levels, as they evoke echoes, whispers, and entry points to much more, so it is a loss to miss those opportunities. Whether by mutual decision or a desire to be heard over the piano, Mr. Cárdenes had very few moments of piano or pianissimo dynamics himself, though he clearly is capable of the full spectrum, as we later heard.

To compound matters on the first half, the duo seemed bound to each other less by the glue of phrasing than by the rivets of rhythm, with accentuation dominating to excess. Hearing a composer noted for his shifts of mood and color, from his robust alter ego Florestan to that of the vulnerable dreamer Eusebius, one felt hard pressed to find any signs of Eusebius. Was the difference between first and second halves simply a matter of settling into the hall and getting bearings, or was it musical preference? It is hard to say.

For readers new to these works, the Sonata No. 3 in A minor (WoO 2) was considered Schumann’s last complete work (based on the co-composed Brahms-Dietrich-Schumann “F-A-E” Sonata, of which the Brahms and Dietrich portions were later replaced by Schumann to make the resulting work his own). Some feel that the piece’s patchwork history is evident in ways that detract from its unity and potency. Clara Schumann suppressed it on the advice of violinist Joseph Joachim, and it lay dormant until publication a century later in 1956. By contrast, the Sonata No. 2 in D minor, Op. 121) from 1853 is sometimes thought to reflect more of Schumann’s truer self, though the writing is technically ambitious, or to use Mr. Hobson’s word, “impressive.” It was certainly technically impressive in the Cárdenes-Hobson delivery, with only the occasional glitch, but the virtuoso elements felt a bit too dominant, taking on a relentless quality throughout. It is tempting to call a bit of “riding roughshod” one of the hazards of complete cycles – after all, the program was monstrously hard, and it is not easy to “sell” all of a composer’s oeuvre equally.

Fortunately, the Sonata Op. 105 came as a reminder of the reasons we treasure Schumann. It was a beauty in which virtuosity was at the service of musical substance, and both players shone – as did Schumann himself. It was greeted with a long standing ovation.

One eagerly awaits the cycle’s final concert, November 7, featuring an enticing program of the Piano Sonata No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 11, and, as the second half, the Davidsbündlertänze, Op. 6. The concert is entitled “Florestan and Eusebius.”  As they say, “run, don’t walk” to hear it.

Winners: Pianists Claire Li, Olivia Li, Eunha Basu, Olivia Tianqing Ye, John Samuell, Edward Hikaru Neems, and Antonio Alessandri

Bezanquen Hall at the DiMenna Center for Classical Music, New York, NY

July 27, 2025

As Beethoven famously remarked, Johann Sebastian Bach should be called not “brook” [as Bach’s name means in German], but “sea” to convey his inexhaustible gifts. As most musicians know, a lifetime can be spent studying Bach’s works without even approaching its breadth and depth. It is thus especially heartening that, thanks to the Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition (TIBC), there is an increasing incentive for the next generation of talented young pianists to explore the range of Bach’s entire keyboard output. Last week, seven young winners of the 8th TIBC demonstrated just that in their Gala Winners Concert at the DiMenna Center for Classical Music.

Founded and directed superbly by pianist Golda Vainberg-Tatz to honor her mentor, the renowned Bach interpreter Rosalyn Tureck (with Dr. Tureck’s blessing shortly before she passed away in 2003), the TIBC has now taken place in 2008, 2010, 2013, 2015, 2017, 2019, 2022, and 2025 just this July. This reviewer has heard and been assigned to review several of the competition’s recitals, and they all were impressive; the level of this 8th TIBC, however, seemed to reach new heights. The performances of the seven young winners were astonishingly polished and compelling – and thankfully, even with a scheduling conflict, this reviewer could see and hear them all via live video via YouTube (8th TIBC Winners) and on audio recordings.

As there are many details to process and seven pianists to discuss, we’ll dive right into the performances, but to learn more about the history of the TIBC, the reader may visit its website TIBC, and also read the competition booklet available there for information on the participants and jury members.

To start, we heard Claire Li, age 11 playing Bach’s Fantasia in C minor, BWV 906  (Category 1: Short Preludes and Fugues). She showed remarkable poise and focus even before starting, sitting quietly beforehand to gather inspiration. The preparation paid off, as her performance was reliable , rhythmic, and robust. The Fantasia is a complex one for such a young player, but it gave her a chance to exploit her impressive independence of lines between the two hands. Only one very minor distraction during the repeat of the second section threatened to diminish her focus, but she stayed on track like a professional.

The next pianist, Olivia Li, played the Sinfonia No.11 in G minor, BWV 797 (Category 2: Inventions and Sinfonias). The listing of her as “age 8” gave this listener a brief double-take, but then again, the competition’s early categories allow for age 8 (and more advanced categories through age 28); her playing, however, caused another double-take, as she showed the control and expressiveness of a musician far beyond her years. She played with a singing tone, perfectly tapered phrases, and beautifully gauged ritardandi. Ordinarily for such a young player, a teacher might have opted for one of the more accessible Inventions – or even might have stayed within the Category 1 repertoire – but clearly someone sees her as exceptional, and she is. This piece gave her opportunities for marking phrases in an expressive way – and these surely set her apart as a winner.

The older participants deserved special kudos for walking onstage to play after such cherubic little wunderkinder who may not even have learned yet what nerves are. In addition, what was already a good half-hour wait through speech-making (before the first notes were played) grew longer with each performance. Especially in view of this format, all of the winners deserved kudos.

The next pianist was Eunha Basu, age 15 (Category 3: Well-Tempered Clavier, Preludes and Fugues), who played the Prelude and Fugue in G minor, BWV 885, from Book II. Seemingly unfazed by the waiting or anything else, she dove into her music with poise and assurance. She played with an authority that was vehement but – refreshingly – never harsh. She simply inhabited the music, with thoughtful control of dynamics and excellent layering of parts. Her four-voice fugue was masterfully projected, reflecting a clear understanding of its structure through skilled voicing and articulations.

Another remarkable 11-year-old pianist came onstage next, Olivia Tianqing Ye (winner in the Category 4/A of Suites and also the Contemporary category). She played the Sarabande and Gigue from the English Suite No.5 in E minor, BWV 810, both revealing astonishing maturity. She showed a genuine sensitivity to the Sarabande‘s long lines, artfully delineating its phrases and ornamenting it judiciously on repeats. The very athletic Gigue of this suite has such leaps and chromaticism that it can be awkward even just for a listener to grasp, but Ms. Ye made short work of that as well. If she were an adult musician, one might say that she turned it into child’s play, but in this case she is, in fact, a child – so how can one describe such utterly natural facility?

Still more astonishing was young Ms. Ye’s rendition of Lowell Liebermann’s Nocturne No. 4, Op. 38,  which she played next. She established its eerie hypnotic feeling from the start with her steady repeated figures in the left hand against a crystalline voice in the right. As it developed, she handled its growing technical challenges with amazing ease for one so young and built to a powerful – and beautifully controlled –  climax. One had to keep reminding oneself that she is just 11.

After the high drama of the preceding Liebermann piece, it could seem anticlimactic to present the rather spare textured and cerebral Duetto BWV 804, but it was performed with such conviction and musical understanding by Edward Hikaru Neems, age 14 (Category 5 – Assorted works) that one almost forgot what preceded it. His clarity of voicing and clear delineation of themes captured the listener, and his movements from the main statements through the lighter episodic sections always conveyed a sense of musical narrative. As excellent as young Mr. Neems was, one would have loved to hear his more extended offerings, including Bach’s Aria variata alla maniera italiana, BWV 989 and some Preludes of Robert Muczynski. Alas, time limits!

Similarly commanding was John Samuell, age 13  (Category 6: Assorted works), playing the Toccata in C minor, BWV 911. He projected a vivid sense of the character of the different sections and allowed each one to unfold with inevitability. The fugal sections thrived on his excellent control and brilliant fingerwork. He is a formidable musician for one so young, and it was thus not a surprise upon reading his biography to learn that he is also a budding composer and highly credentialed organist. One looks forward to hearing more from him. In addition to winning the Rosalyn Tureck Prize in his category he was also awarded the Kern Foundation “Aspiration” Award.

Last but not least we heard Antonio Alessandri, age 19, playing excerpts from the Goldberg Variations (Category 8). He played the Aria, Variations 1, 2, 3, 4, 28, 29, 30, and the return to the Aria (so basically the beginning and end of the piece, as time limits dictated). Well on his way to an active career, young Mr. Alessandri already recorded his debut album of these variations in 2024, and his performance of several excerpts served as a tantalizing invitation to hear them in their entirety. Though it is always frustrating to hear this work in an abbreviated version, one could certainly hear glimpses of every quality it requires, from a sensitivity to the hallowed feeling of the Aria, to the emotional range of the subsequent variations and the control of a wide variety of dynamics, articulations, and fingerwork to project that range. Of course judging the pianist’s conception of the work as a cohesive whole was simply not possible here, but what we heard of Mr. Alessandri’s artistry certainly bodes well. One quality that stood out was his rhythmic expressivity, particularly his use of agogics in poignant moments. He is a very special pianist. Along with winning the Rosalyn Tureck Prize in his category, he won the TIBC’s Dame Myra Hess Recital Award and its Evgeny Kissin Grand Prize/Steinway Award.

Congratulations go out to all the winners and to all those who contributed to this important cultural event. It has been a joy to watch it develop over the years and become more and more refined in each detail. One can hardly imagine it growing still further in its next edition, but it will be worth the wait to see and hear! Bravi tutti!

Jungwon Sun, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

June 24, 2025

The enormous program offered by pianist Jungwon Sun at Weill Recital Hall on the evening of June 24, 2025 was originally slated to be even more enormous. Ms. Sun’s impressive repertoire is vast enough for her to have replaced Beethoven’s 32 Variations in C Minor with the late Sonata Op. 101 in A major, Liszt’s Sonata in B minor with the Paraphrase on Rigoletto, and Barber’s Piano Sonata with Persichetti’s Sonata No. 6, while preserving Ravel’s fiendishly difficult La Valse. (This brings to mind Ruth Laredo’s recital years ago at the Maryland Piano Festival, with hundreds of eager fans primed to hear Barber’s Sonata, when Ms. Laredo spontaneously substituted La Valse as the evening’s closing piece.)  Barber’s monumental absence notwithstanding, the preferred cornucopia here showed off Ms. Sun’s significant capabilities, as well as her eclectic tastes.

Harpsichord sonatas by the Baroque Italian-Spanish Domenico Scarlatti have been grouped fashionably in pairs since 1953, when Ralph Kirkpatrick renumbered the 555 or so essercizi to reflect newly discovered evidence of their chronology and almost certain juxtaposition. D minor, in the case of the spiritually demanding, melancholy K. 213, probably would have led to a romping Allegro vivo D major, K. 214 (although modern performers are free to experiment with other combinations). Ms. Sun chose to introduce her concert with two delicate, tender gems, though unrelated, in D minor, which she presented in an ingratiating and flowing manner. Eschewing the profound in favor of a more lucid pastoral charm, she brought the eighteenth century into the nineteenth with her “inverted mordent” realization of Scarlatti’s trills and the omission of one or both formal repetitions, perhaps as a time-saver for the larger works to come.

In place of the expected Haydn or Beethoven which might have appeared after a Scarlatti appetizer in an old-fashioned New York recital, we were treated to the compact Sixth Sonata (of twelve) by the American Vincent Persichetti, a pillar of the composition scene for over four decades whose music is still far too underplayed. Ms. Sun shines in this Neoclassical terrain and relishes its precision with palpable gusto. The first movement (marked Lightly) chatters up top with run-on dotted rhythms informed neither by the obsessive Romantic Schumann nor by 1940s swing, although Persichetti must have loved both. Ms. Sun brought out just the right bends in tempo while maintaining a delightful sense of humor. Free of resistance, the second movement (Slowly) wends along plaintively, ignoring stable tonal centers as it piles up diatonic harmonies in a pyramid of good-natured fun, like a classic children’s tale. We soon realize that the composer’s joke is on himself, as he marks the third movement Blandly, seemingly instructing the player to navigate compound meter sighs and long treble melismas without emotion—but the game pianist took on the task cleverly and amiably, reserving steam for the fourth movement (Fast) soon to unleash Persichetti’s characteristic whirlwind of colorful passagework. Ms. Sun’s disciplined rhythm allowed us to hear every detail of syncopation and every catch breath.

This is a fine occasion to celebrate Maurice Ravel’s 150^th birthday, and Ms. Sun rounded out the first half of her surprisingly well-proportioned recital with a timely insertion of Ravel’s most popular work (according to the site bachtrack.com, in 2022 La Valse was the most frequently performed classical piece across the globe). Conceived as a symphonic poem and composed in 1919–20, vaguely alluding to the dissolution of Viennese high society (Ravel denied any foreshadowing of European anarchy despite the Great War), the piece was commissioned for the Ballets Russes by Serge Diaghilev, who then refused to choreograph it, calling it a “portrait of ballet.” The composer furnished transcriptions for two pianists and for one, but these keep company with arrangements by manifold artists as diverse as Glenn Gould, Yuja Wang, and Master Sgt. Donald Patterson of the U.S. Marine Band.

The first decision facing any pianist aspiring to play the piece is whether to attempt one of the extant versions or to tinker with them and synthesize something new. As Ms. Sun’s program did not include printed remarks other than her extensive credentials, it is difficult to comment on the edition used, but one cannot argue with one’s own ears, and this performance was the ultimately satisfying result of years of preparation. Ms. Sun knows her strengths: rhythmic construction, accuracy, flexible lines, and transparency of shading; and confidently projects her choices in sound. The swirling mists of Ravel’s annotation would have tended in lesser hands to devolve into chaos, but Ms. Sun succeeded in creating a veritable tsunami of texture while imagining a decadent and infectious 1855 ballroom dance.

Having given her all in the Ravel, Ms. Sun might have called it a night and sent everyone home singing, but the second half held new surprises. A deft touch of aural planning took us not to a typical Chopin nocturne at this point but to the surreal inner thoughts of Benjamin Britten, who composed his Notturno as a set piece for the first Leeds Piano Competition in 1963. The spooky processional quality of the droning bass superimposed with percussive eruptions and Bartókian cricket chirps withdraws all hints of comfort from this dark lullaby. Ms. Sun’s tasteful filigree turned appropriately sinister (perhaps even more so than needed) and settled back into character with the approach of consonance at last, the final eerie notes depressed silently before the release of the damper pedal as indicated by the composer.

Tucked into the hidden recesses of the program’s second half, like gold bars under a mattress, was Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 101, once the cornerstone of Carnegie Hall recitals and the subject of troves of musicology. (After Russell Sherman’s recital in 1984, The New York Times wrote that he played as if he had “felt it as a personal benediction from Beethoven.”) Ms. Sun turned in a neat performance, straightforward and clearcut, evincing minimal struggle and generous varnish. We revisited the pastoral style of her second Scarlatti sonata in the opening movement, and the endless dotted rhythms from the Persichetti sonata, now transposed down the piano in jagged blocks, in the second. Ms. Sun’s facility showed itself to full advantage in the fourth movement with its quirky fugue. Again, all repeat signs were deemed optional and bypassed.

Beethoven’s star pupil, Carl Czerny, earned preeminence from his own firebrand, Franz Liszt, who composed the Paraphrase on Rigoletto in 1855, the year portrayed by Ravel in his composition La Valse. The Verdi-Liszt was therefore a familial program closer, and Ms. Sun was at her best in Liszt’s deceptively simple octave runs and light passagework, particularly in his famous cascading “three-hand” effects. The Duke’s quartet opening “Bella figlia dell’amore” held enough D-flat-major bonhomie to assuage Ravel’s malevolent mists, if they were still with us, and to rock Benjamin Britten back to sleep.