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Key Pianists presents Terry Eder in Review

Terry Eder, piano

Weill Recital at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 8, 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will Todd, DCINY Composer-in-Residence and Pianist

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

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

Cliff Leaman Saxophone; Chris Lee, Percussion

David Geffen Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

Apr 7, 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Şahan Arzruni, piano

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

April 5, 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hsin-I Huang, Piano

Recorded August 2016 at Legacy Hall, GA

Matthew McCabe, Engineer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 30, 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Distinguished Concerts International (DCINY) presents Total Vocal with Deke Sharon in Review

Deke Sharon, Conductor, Arranger, and Creative Director

DCappella, Special Guests

Vintage Mix, Special Guests

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 24, 2019

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) held yet another large-scale concert on Sunday at Carnegie Hall with its production of Total Vocal with Deke Sharon, 5th Anniversary. For those unfamiliar with the name Deke Sharon, he is a leading force (arguably the leading force) behind the enormous resurgence of a cappella singing here in the US and around the world for the past few decades. As arranger and conductor, Deke Sharon was a producer of The Sing-Off, an a cappella singing competition that was on television from 2009-2014, and it spawned numerous similar enterprises. Perhaps the best-known a cappella film, Pitch Perfect (2012) was followed with sequels Pitch Perfect II in 2015 and Pitch Perfect III in 2017. There seems no sign of the craze letting up, and this 5^th anniversary concert helped affirm that fact.

Featured on this concert were smashing a cappella arrangements nearly all made by Deke Sharon (and one original composition). Mr. Sharon has made over 2000 arrangements, and they are eminently appealing and singable. For full disclosure, much of the music popular with these largely teenaged performers is not generally my cup of tea – it generally leaves me craving a Bach Fugue or a Brahms Sextet; that said, very few people with a pulse could resist the sheer joy in music-making that these groups share. Guests joining the Distinguished Concert Singers International included the Disney ensemble DCappella, guests from The Sing-Off and Pitch Perfect films, and the singing quadruplet ensemble, Vintage Mix.

Once a few hundred mostly young singers had filed onto risers on the Stern Auditorium stage, their charismatic leader Deke Sharon launched the music with fun.Medley (no typo – that is the name) from the show The Sing-Off (credited to Jeff Bhasker, Andrew Dost, Jack Antonoff, and Nate Ruess). The three songs of the medley were Some Nights, Carry On, and We are Young. It was full of energy and fun, with eighteen soloists cranking up the excitement, but thanks to some overdone amplifying it was almost unbearably loud. Covering one’s ears tightly barely helped. One started worrying about how one would endure the next few hours, but the electrifying presence of Deke Sharon managed to sustain one’s hope.

Not to sound like a fangirl (happily married old gal here), but the tall, athletic Deke Sharon has one of the most magnetic stage personalities one has ever encountered. To say he exudes energy, rhythm, and joy is wholly inadequate – he is a phenomenon. He appears virtually airborne as he covers the entire stage in a few strides and conducts with a uniquely agile and exuberant dance, drawing ecstatic energy from his musicians. In his role as emcee he excels as well, and, as he greeted the audience after the first number, he took on the role of cruise director (complete with humorous references to old television shows Gilligan’s Island and The Love Boat). His travel-themed banter helped string together a program of some fairly disparate music.

Forget About the Boy (from the 2002 Thoroughly Modern Millie, music by Jeanine Tesori) took us back to flapper days with a jazz-age beat (and thankfully more listenable volume -perhaps because there were no guest artist microphone requirements?). The segue to a love song was a natural, and Beneath Your Beautiful (by Mike Posner from Pitch Slapped) fit the bill. With the chorus in the role of “string orchestra” the featured soloists Martel Jones, Aryanna Rent, John Yokoyama, and Chelsea Rifkin sang beautifully.

I’ll Make a Man Out of You (from Mulan – Matthew Wilder) featured guest artists Chamber Bravura (consisting of 35 vocalists) in a passionate and tightly knit performance. I Wanna Be Like You (by Robert Sherman and Richard Sherman) followed with special guest group DCappella (four men and three women) giving their all. Amps were all still overpoweringly loud, but one still enjoyed the spirit through cupped ears.

Bellas Opening (a medley by various artists from Pitch Perfect 2) included the catchy tune Timber and a quote from America the Beautiful. Soloists were Madeline Glave and Lilly Gaven, with Madeleine Lasker as the excellent vocal percussionist (often called beatbox). One of the fun aspects of a cappella singing, of course, is the range of vocal techniques used to substitute for traditional instruments – and these effects throughout the concert were amazing.

It’s A Man’s World (James Brown) featured the group Unstremental (around fifteen singers), reveling in melisma like the inimitable Brown himself. Travelin’ Band (John Fogerty) followed without any miked soloists, but with full choral forces in a spirited delivery of its rock and roll beat, it had the perfect sound. The audience joined in the infectious fun with clapping. A more pensive song, I Lived (Ryan Tedder), followed as a welcome breather in a lovely arrangement.

The afternoon’s only arrangement not by Deke Sharon was Connecticut (Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane, arr. Adam Bock) with special guests Vintage Mix, a group of quadruplets (yes, quadruplets!) who sang with a not-surprising familial blend and synchronization. The song itself, new to this listener, occupies a rather obscure niche, but it was a good vehicle for these sensational siblings (three sisters and a brother) who took the audience back to the days of close harmony singing (reminiscent of the barbershop quartets of the 1890’s, revived in the 1940’s). Deke Sharon (ever the teacher and leader) used the performance as a springboard to get the audience to try some part singing (with surprisingly decent results), before the first portion of the program concluded with the chorus singing the Earth, Wind & Fire hit, September (Maurice White) with Reed Rosenberg, vocal percussionist. At the risk of sounding curmudgeonly, I don’t share Mr. Sharon’s enthusiasm for this song, but it certainly did make for a high-voltage close.

To continue for just another moment in curmudgeonly mode, Carnegie Hall is a beautifully resonant hall that does not require the heavy amplification that was used, and in fact one of the beauties of a cappella singing is its focus on the music one can make with just the human body, though admittedly a soloist may need some amplification to be heard over a large chorus (and certainly the vocal percussionists do); that said, the decibel levels here were so painful that an older woman in my row actually (demonstratively) removed her hearing aids, while others repeatedly jolted and cringed. I was prodded to relay to some assistants milling about the stage at intermission that some in the audience were actually in pain. For the second half the issue was much improved – though whether that was because of modified settings or one’s newly encroaching deafness remains uncertain.

Grievances receded, in any case, as one watched the force of nature that is Deke Sharon bounding back to the stage, seemingly made out of music. He led the chorus in the relatively unknown Elton John song Club at the End of the Street (Bernie Taupin) and followed with the ever-popular Blue Skies (Irving Berlin) with Bekal Peterson and Madeline Ross, jazz soloists, scatting to beat the band. A mellower feel was setting in, and Blue Skies made a nice segue to the popular Soak Up the Sun (Sheryl Crow and Jeff Trott) with eighteen soloists and Filip Rusin as vocal percussionist, all excellent.

One of the big standouts of the evening was the ensemble Revv52 (around fifty singers from Canada), featured next in Moondance (Van Morrison). With beautiful intonation, smooth blending, and seductive rhythm, they revived this sometimes forgotten hit from the seventies.

Just when one thought the concert had reached a peak, we heard Quiet Moon, composed and sung by Deke Sharon himself – he has (not surprisingly) a beautiful voice! He was joined by Antonio Fernandez from DCappella, and both did impressive vocal percussion as well. Many in the audience gasped in admiration as Mr. Sharon alternated his gently crooning vocals with some of the best “mouth trumpet” one has ever heard. For those unfamiliar with this skill, it is the simulation, using one’s own mouth, of the sounds of trumpets – and Mr. Sharon did two kinds, in rapid alternation with vocal phrases. Nothing could quite top the latter, but Defying Gravity (Stephen Schwartz) from Wicked was excellent – lovelier than I had remembered it, undoubtedly due in part to the arrangement.

The superb Croatian ensemble, A.K.A. Crescendo, was welcomed next (a dozen or so musicians) to sing a medley of Jailhouse Rock/Levisice (Mike Stoller, Daniel Popovic, and Alka Vuica). They ought perhaps to be renamed “A.K.A. Accelerando” for the beautifully synchronized way they handed some ramping up of the tempo, but let it suffice to say that they were great, another polished and tightly knit group. The full chorus followed with As (by Stevie Wonder, 1976) as arranged for the Sing-Off winners, Committed.

Approaching the end of the program, the group DCappella returned to give a fittingly sentimental rendition of Remember Me from the 2017 movie Coco (music by Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez). It was even more heartrending than the original in this Deke Sharon arrangement. Finally, riding the wave of the 2018 movie Bohemian Rhapsody, the combined forces of DCappella, Vintage Mix, and Distinguished Concert Singers International gave a passionate rendition of Don’t Stop Me Now (Freddie Mercury). Singers streamed down the aisles stirring up audience members to join in the singing and clapping. An encore of The Lion Sleeps Tonight, complete with rhythmic “Wimbawet” sections, capped the concert off well.

Several audience members who appeared cranky, uncomfortable, and impatient at the concert’s start could be seen bobbing, swaying, and tapping hands and feet by the end. Many looked high on music. If the spirit of this concert resembled an evangelical event, in a way it was. Deke Sharon believes in the power of music to transform the world, and he shows how it is done, drawing people together through the love of it (even sharing his email for anyone in the audience who may not be able to find a chorus to join). When he says that music can transform people, it may sound like a platitude, but I wouldn’t doubt his sincerity for an instant. This concert itself gave ample evidence.

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

Vocal Artists Management Presents Jinho Hwang in Review

Jinho Hwang, tenor; Steven Crawford, pianist

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

March 22, 2019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Juilliard School Daniel Saidenberg Faculty Recital Series presents Manasse/Nakamatsu Duo in Review

Jon Manasse, clarinet; Jon Nakamatsu, piano

Paul Recital Hall, Juilliard School, New York, NY

March 18, 2019

The Juilliard School’s faculty recital series presented the “two Jons” on Monday night in Paul Hall at the school: world-renowned clarinetist Jon Manasse, and equally celebrated pianist Jon Nakamatsu, who, as Mr. Manasse drolly put it in his affable and humorous verbal program notes, “merely” won the gold medal at the 10th Van Cliburn piano competition in 1997. In fact, Mr. Manasse was the only Juilliard faculty member in this recital (he also did all his music study there)—Mr. Nakamatsu majored in German at Stanford prior to winning the Cliburn (!). The duo is in its fifteenth year, and the two are co-artistic directors of the Cape Cod Chamber Music Festival.

Well, let me not further bury the lead: This was the finest chamber music collaboration I have heard in many years. Saying that these two are at the peak of their profession would be demeaning—they hover somewhere in the stratosphere, and the little peaks are far below. They created a true sense of chamber intimacy, used understatement effectively, had supernatural ensemble unity and great elasticity when called for, and were very natural and spontaneous. (And we all know how much hard work goes into sounding effortless!)

The program opened with the first of Brahms’ two autumnal clarinet sonatas, the F minor, Op. 120, No. 1, inspired by clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld. Curiously, the notoriously gruff Brahms referred to the clarinetist as “Fräulein Mühlfeld” (Miss M.). They are Brahms’ final instrumental chamber music, full of longing, poignancy, reminiscence, even regret, with only the occasional jovial outburst. Shadows intrude even in the middle section of the Ländler/Waltz-fusion third movement. The Manasse/Nakamatsu duo was superb in this work (they have recorded both sonatas). Jon Manasse, a master of whisper-quiet but always steady tone, blended so successfully with his partner that one often could not tell (without effort) just which instrument was playing. Here he was aided by the absolute discretion, which does not mean subservience, of his partner. It was incredible to hear the sometimes thick textures played with such clarity, melodic/motivic direction, and softness, and Mr. Nakamatsu always pays attention to the left hand, so important in a dark-hued work like this, bringing out every polyphonic goodie. Their tempo (marked Vivace by Brahms) in the fourth movement’s joyful, optimistic explosion was one of the quickest I have ever heard, utterly clear in every detail.

This was followed by Mr. Nakamatsu’s moment to shine as a solo player, in a breathtaking rendition of Chopin’s Grande Polonaise Brillante précédée d’un Andante spianato, as the original title page states. Spianato means “flowing, smooth” in Italian, and this performance could not have been more elegant. The supportive left-hand was “there” yet appropriately indistinct, while the right hand spun out the long threads of Bellinian bel canto so crucial to Chopin’s expression. Mr. Nakamatsu handled the groups of “little notes,” delicate fioriture that adorn the melodies, with stunning feather lightness. He embodies (they both embody) what I recognize as “true” virtuosity: the ability always to have something in reserve, never to be at the outer edge of one’s capabilities, but to seem to be saying to the listener: “Oh, yes, of course I can do this; I could do so much more too, but I’m choosing not to right now.” His phrasing in the wistful little mazurka that interrupts the andante was perfect, the grander, more heroic bluster of the polonaise never lost an opportunity for elegant, refined, poetic tone, and there was plenty of flash where appropriate.
After intermission, the pair returned, virtually duplicating the program of another of their recordings, beginning with Leonard Bernstein’s Sonata for Clarinet and Piano, composed when he was in his early twenties and dedicated to David Oppenheim, a clarinetist he met at Tanglewood while studying conducting with Serge Koussevitsky and composition with Paul Hindemith. Oppenheim later became a producer for Columbia classical records, and television, both of which would be crucial to Bernstein’s image going forward. Much has been made of the sometimes derivative sound of portions of the work: a bit of Hindemith here, a little more of Copland there. But Mr. Manasse pointed out the consistency of the Bernstein gesture and how one might hear “pre”-echoes of, yes, West Side Story, still far in the future. The duo was fabulously together in the asymmetrical (lots of 5s) rhythms and other challenges the work is loaded with, and the whole needs to sound just easy-going, which it did. The work is in two movements, but the second has both a “slow” and a “fast” movement in alternation—a formal innovation that is subtle in a youthful composer.

Then it was Mr. Manasse’s turn to play unaccompanied clarinet, in the third (of four) movements from Paquito D’Rivera’s The Cape Cod Files, commissioned by the duo, an homage called Lecuonerías. Ernesto Lecuona was a Cuban composer and pianist of great fame, and his work is recently receiving some of the serious consideration it deserves. (Who remembers “The Breeze and I,” English lyrics added in 1940 to Lecuona’s Andalucia?) This fiendishly difficult brief morsel contains an encyclopedia of Latin musical gestures, from flamenco cante jondo recitative at the beginning, to various enthusiastic dances. All were played with the consummate ease and wit we associate with the name Jon Manasse.

The duo then finished with Four Rags for Two Jons, by John Novacek, the duo’s first commission (2006). Chopin turned the mazurka, waltz, and polonaise into stylized “art” dances. So, why shouldn’t Novacek create his own wild take on the Joplin-era staple? These four pieces have all the usual syncopation one expects in the style, but so much more as well: stylish and wickedly difficult riffs abound in both instruments. I think I heard (and saw) a hilarious forearm cluster played by the unflappable Mr. Nakamatsu. Glissandi, blues, wails- it’s all there, and the way the duo tossed it all off spoke to their camaraderie.

After a tumultuous ovation, the pair favored the audience with a spicy, jazzy (and difficult) take on Gershwin’s “I Got Rhythm,” arranged by James Cohen (91-years-young, and present at the concert). It contained the inevitable reference to the famous clarinet opening of the same composer’s Rhapsody in Blue and the piano’s final peroration from the same piece (now used in the United Airlines commercials), dispatched with great hammy humor by Mr. Manasse and Mr. Nakamatsu.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Presents Magnificat in Review

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International;

Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Principal Conductor; Nancy Menk, Guest Conductor;

Claire Leyden, Soprano; Lindsey Anderson, Mezzo-Soprano; Jennifer Zetlan, Soprano

Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 17, 2019

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented another large-scale concert this weekend, entitled Magnificat: Music in Celebration of International Women’s Day. The first half included works by Johannes Michael Haydn, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Johannes Brahms, Libby Larsen, Ola Gjeilo, and Zachary Moore, all for women’s choir and orchestra under the direction of Dr. Nancy Menk. The second half was entirely devoted to John Rutter’s Magnificat for mixed choir and orchestra, under the direction of DCINY Artistic Director Jonathan Griffith. As ever, it was an extravaganza, with several hundred voices from all over the world and audience members barely able to contain their excitement, applause, and cheers.

The Magnificat text was present not only in Rutter’s great piece by that name on the second half, but also in several works on the first half. For those unfamiliar with the term Magnificat, it traditionally refers to the musical setting of the Canticle [or Biblical hymn] of Mary, which contains the words that the Virgin Mary spoke (according to the Gospel of Saint Luke) right after the Annunciation (the announcement by the Angel Gabriel that she would soon be giving birth to Jesus Christ). Magnificat settings can also include words spoken to Mary at the Annunciation, and also those about her, along with related texts of the Gloria, Ave Maria (Hail Mary) and more, but in any case, a concert dedicated to the Magnificat centers upon Mary.

Magnificat was thus an appropriate name for a Women’s Day celebration and for a concert billed as a celebration of the 175^th Anniversary of Saint Mary’s College in South Bend, Indiana (Saint Mary here also referring to the Virgin Mary). Two choirs from Saint Mary’s College, their college choir and alumnae choir, represented the school well under Dr. Menk, their Chair of Music, who led them through works in varied styles, including a work which the college commissioned from Libby Larsen 25 years ago, Canticle of Mary. Their combined forces, along with the rest of the Distinguished Concert Singers International, totaled around 260 choristers to share the stage with the Distinguished Concerts Orchestra.

The programming was brilliant, not monochromatic as one might expect with such unity of theme, and even the staunchest atheist would probably acknowledge the power of the music itself, along with its fascinating history. The concert opened with Johann Michael Haydn, the underappreciated younger brother of Franz Joseph Haydn, and his brief beautiful Magnificat served as a somewhat restrained classical greeting before the more involved works to come. It also provided an introduction to this half’s two soloists, soprano Claire Leyden and mezzo-soprano Lindsey Anderson, both excellent.

In complete contrast with the Haydn, the Vaughan Williams Magnificat followed, its mystical atmosphere intensified by shadowy chromaticism and sinuous flute lines. This setting is no heavenly harmony suggesting a serene Mary, but rather an eerie evocation of supernatural forces, its imaginative orchestration eliciting awe from the start. Mezzo Lindsey Anderson was the powerful soloist, singing with outstanding tonal control and a projection of the music’s mystery and grandeur. In what was skillful programming, the Ave Maria, Op. 12 of Brahms followed, relatively delicate in its orchestration, moving to simpler F major harmonies and a lighter pastoral spirit. The chorus sang it with reverent purity.

Dr. Menk conducted expertly throughout her portion of the program, but her skill was especially in evidence in the remaining works, including Libby Larsen’s Canticle of Mary, a canticle of unusual jubilation. Opening with an oboe solo, which in the composer’s words “represents the exuberance and free spirit” of Mary, the piece pulses with anticipation and joy. The choral singers gave their all, and soprano Claire Leyden sent her piercingly beautiful solo soaring from a balcony near the stage.

Ola Gjeilo’s Gloria followed with similar joy, here in a more folk-like vein and sung with gusto. If the theme of Mary was not overt in the final work, Always Keep This Close, by Zachary J. Moore (b.1992), the overall theme of women was certainly present, with text by Colleen Carhuff expressing the love of singing in a women’s choir. Starting out with nostalgic warmth, it built to a tremendous peak, closing with the repeated words “We are one.” The combined choruses were indeed one.

To cap off a brilliantly conceived concert, the second half featured the Magnificat of leading British choral composer, John Rutter (b. 1945). Larger in scope than the Magnificats heard earlier on the program (the longest of those being the twelve-minute Vaughan Williams piece), Rutter’s work spans forty minutes over the course of seven movements. It was interesting to compare how differently Rutter set some of the same text as other composers, for example, the line “the rich he hath sent empty away” which Vaughan Williams punctuated with dramatic rests, while Rutter chose to set it to gentle soothing harmonies. Clearly such a text has inexhaustible possibilities.

John Rutter is a master of his art, and the listener was held in his thrall from his Magnificat’s very first notes. Though Rutter has strangely been criticized for incorporating elements of lighter twentieth-century music (as if he is to remain in an aesthetic vacuum), his music is indisputably rooted in a British tradition that includes Benjamin Britten, David Willcocks, and others. His Magnificat reflects eclectic influences of the late twentieth century as well, but all in what seems to this listener to be a perfectly organic way.

In the first movement, Magnificat anima mea, there are shifts from the feeling of 3/4 to 6/8 via sharp accents, establishing an immediate energy, and these were projected with vigor by the performers. The mood was suitably contemplative in the movement Of a Rose, a lovely Rose, a movement hearkening back to works by Bach and other earlier composers, but the music regained the brassy power of the twentieth century in the third movement, Quia fecit mihi magna. Full mixed choruses produced a big sound, including fifteen choirs from California, Colorado, Indiana, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia, as well as Australia, Canada, and the UK, and, as DCINY always lists “individual singers from around the globe.” Jonathan Griffith held the masses together beautifully, as always.

Superb soprano Jennifer Zetlan was the soloist throughout this work, and her fluid golden tones were particularly beautiful in the fourth movement, Et Misericordia, conveying a sense of solace after the prior fanfares – and before the muscle-flexing fifth movement, Fecit potentiam. The latter was given such assertive projection by the lower voices that it seemed at any moment ready to burst into,“the Jets are gonna have their way tonight” (from Bernstein’s West Side Story) – in other words, it was not lacking in testosterone! One could only admire the way Rutter developed his material here in brilliant imitation before subsiding with the final line about the meek (humiles). The milder Esurientes followed, opening gently with harp and affirming heavenly promises, with the help again of lovely solo lines from Ms. Zetlan, and the subsequent Gloria Patri with cymbal crashes (and the return of the opening rhythms) made for a triumphant end to this wonderful work. It was a triumphant end to a great concert as well. Congratulations to all involved, and encore!

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

Florida State University presents Ian Hobson in Review

Ian Hobson, piano

Judy and Arthur Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 11, 2019

Pianist Ian Hobson played a wide-ranging, difficult recital at Zankel Hall on March 11th, which made me answer the following questions in the affirmative: Can a pianist with immense bravura technique also, 1) be intellectually probing, 2) be poetically sensitive, and 3) create imaginative, thoughtful programs? It was in those areas where Mr. Hobson truly surrendered to his pensive, lyrical impulses that he created true magic, though I realize, even as I write those words, that such areas were set-off even more by what was around them. I reviewed Mr. Hobson’s heroic survey of the complete piano music of Debussy and Ravel elsewhere in these pages – Ian Hobson- Debussy/Ravel: April 18. 2018, Ian Hobson- Debussy/Ravel: February 28, 2018, Ian Hobson- Debussy/Ravel: February 7, 2018, Ian Hobson- Debussy/Ravel: November 29, 2017.

The evening began with Beethoven’s two-movement sonata in E minor, Op. 90. The first movement, in the minor, is a study in contrast and concision, with anger, melancholy, and even a nostalgic wistfulness, which Mr. Hobson brought out beautifully. Then the falling minor third is transformed into a rising major third for the second movement, a rondo that captures Beethoven in rare Schubertian expansion. Rather than a love-song for all humanity, I’ve always thought it quite personal, possibly even to the “immortal beloved,” whoever she might have been. Here, I wish Mr. Hobson had followed the nicht zu geschwind (not too fast) indication, giving a bit more gemütlichkeit, time spent allowing the music to unspool. Nevertheless, it was well-played.

He then followed with some Mendelssohn that had a Beethoven connection, the Variations sérieuses, Op. 54, which was part of the general fund-raising initiative for the Beethoven monument in Bonn (unveiled in 1845), to which Chopin, Liszt, and Schumann, among others, also contributed. The work is a set of evolving accelerations (primarily) on an original, chromatic, sober theme in D minor, called “serious” to differentiate it from the many sets of variations brillantes based on existing popular tunes or opera arias that composers were expected to churn out for the growing amateur market. The somber minor key is broken only once, about three-fourths of the way through with a D major, hymn-like moment of calm amid the storms. Mr. Hobson organized all the furor with his mighty skills, though I wished for more quiet at the outset, lower dynamics and more contrast in places, so the journey could “go farther.” It was an exciting rendition of a piece I wish was played more often.

The first half concluded with Schumann’s third sonata (the first to be started, however), in G minor, Op. 22. Here Mr. Hobson was truly magnificent. He was right in his element, handling all the manic rhythmic dislocation and busy-ness with complete command. He brought out the many polyphonic felicities in the first movement, but it was in the slow movement, based on an early song of Schumann, that he created spellbinding magic with his quiet playing. The rondo finale, marked Presto, was a wild ride that delighted the entire audience, justly so, yet he phrased the contrasting lyrical theme with greatest sensitivity, varying it through its many repetitions.

After intermission came an old chestnut that one rarely hears these days, Ernő Dohnányi’s Rhapsody in C major, Op. 11, No. 3. I have heard the legendaries (think Annie Fischer or Shura Cherkassky) sport with this four-and-a-half minute madcap, antic piece just as a kitten would play with a ball of string. Mr. Hobson added an element of substance to the piece without losing the humor entirely; that seemed to say he was making it a “more important” piece, and why not.

Then came a world premiere from American composer/conductor/pianist Robert Chumbley, titled Brahmsiana II (Brahmsiana I is an orchestral ballet score). As the composer states, this is no pastiche and no quoting of Brahms takes place; rather it was inspired by certain compositional techniques of Brhams. The three “new intermezzi” were in Chumbley’s characteristic lush neo-Romantic style, and they used the piano gratefully, even if I wasn’t really feeling much about Brahms per se. Chumbley doesn’t quite possess Brahms’ austerity or motivic unity. I sensed that in the first two pieces, the endings came too quickly, they didn’t feel organic and inevitable; but the third made a satisfying conclusion indeed. Mr. Hobson’s detailed and lavish colorations really added value to this group.

The recital concluded with Chopin’s masterful third piano sonata, Op. 58 in B minor. Here Mr. Hobson’s magic occurred in the elfin-light Scherzo and its heartbreaking contrasting middle section; his funereal song third movement was stately and gorgeous too. My only quibble was with the outer movements, which were played too fast—the first (Allegro) is qualified by maestoso (stately, dignified, majestic), it was pushed; the finale is marked (admittedly odd): Presto non tanto (not too presto). Here, for me, it was “too,” causing a lot of details to fall by the wayside, and reminding me of the early 20th century curmudgeon Henry Krehbiel, who I believe referred to this movement as “the parade ground of the virtuosi.” Still, it was an astonishing display of digital ability, fiery and completely involved emotionally, and it thrilled the audience to no end.

Mr. Hobson offered two (strongly earned!) encores: Tchaikovsky/Rachmaninoff’s Lullaby, Op. 16, limpid and full of elegant sorrow. The second was the Mendelssohn/Rachmaninoff Scherzo from the incidental music to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, more than enough for four, let alone two, hands. (Did I even hear some extra notes added, via Horowitz or perhaps Hobson?) Mr. Hobson’s presentation of the major-key lyrical theme that occurs twice was breathtakingly light, as was his “vanishing” conclusion.

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