Regina Shenderovich, pianist, in Review

Regina Shenderovich, pianist, in Review

Regina Shenderovich, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 30, 2018

 

It is a rare pianist who undertakes to play the entire Art of the Fugue (Die Kunst der Fugue, BWV 1080) of J. S. Bach, especially in live concert. The work is an approximately eighty-minute masterpiece of fourteen fugues (Contrapuncti) plus four canons, all based on a single somber theme in D minor which is given an encyclopedic range of treatments – inversions, augmentations, diminutions, elaborations, stretti, double, triple, and mirror fugues, and just about every imaginable compositional manipulation. It has long been studied by musicians as a model of counterpoint, but it has been considered by many to be too cerebrally taxing for concert audiences.

Ensemble performances, including performances by the Juilliard String Quartet and the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, to name two, have met with success, due in part to the clarity provided by differing instruments assigned to different lines. As the work was composed without specified instrumentation and in open score (just soprano, alto, tenor, and bass staves), it has remained uncertain how the work was intended to be played, though again some persist in theorizing that it was meant not to be played at all and is of purely theoretical value. A pianist performing it is thus faced not only with the colossal challenge of “merely” playing it, but also some persistent criticism of the very act of performing it.

Despite such a challenge (or because of it), some renowned keyboard artists have been drawn to perform and/or record the work, notable among them pianists Glenn Gould, Tatiana Nikolayeva, and Pierre-Laurent Aimard, not including harpsichordists and organists. More recent contributions have included those by Evgeni Koroliov and Angela Hewitt, but the numbers are still relatively few. We can now add another name to this list of intrepid musicians: Regina Shenderovich. For the reader wanting only to hear about her exceptional recital at Weill Hall and not about the work, one can skip the next paragraph – but meanwhile, there is one more challenge to discuss.

The earliest autograph of Die Kunst der Fuge (or KDF as it is abbreviated) stems from the 1740’s, but when Bach resumed work on it in the years prior to his death in 1750, he was suffering from a debilitating eye disease. J. S. Bach’s son, C.P.E. Bach, supervised its posthumous publication in 1751, but the final fugue, Contrapunctus XIV, had been left unfinished due to Bach’s death. (There were other questions linked with the publication as well, some attributed to C.P.E Bach and some to the engravers.) Performers have tackled the incompleteness variously. Some (including Glenn Gould and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields) recorded it unfinished – one of music’s stranger experiences to hear this amazing music cut off mid-measure! Others have used completions composed by scholars, including one by Donald Francis Tovey in the early twentieth century and more recently the beautiful completion by Kevin Korsyn (as heard on pianist Craig Sheppard’s CD released just this past September). How would tonight’s pianist approach these challenges – and of course, how would she play it?

Enter Regina Shenderovich, walking onstage with modest, unassuming demeanor. She opened, amazingly, with yet another fugue, Mendelssohn’s Prelude and Fugue in E minor, Op. 35, No. 1, giving it an admirable performance (if perhaps adding unnecessarily to the program’s ample scope – the Bach was really enough for one evening)! After a brief break Ms. Shenderovich returned for the Bach, and what followed was simply spellbinding. Navigating this great work with undemonstrative lucidity and indisputable mastery, Ms. Shenderovich guided her listener expertly through this mind-boggling Bach journey. She is a musician of prodigious gifts, including a formidable intellect.

Not only was Ms. Shenderovich able to project each fugue subject with clarity, whether direct, inverted, in augmentation, or in whatever form, but she followed each line faithfully through to its conclusion as other layers intertwined. What is behind some of Ms. Shenderovich’s success is – aside from her exceptional mind – her highly developed finger technique, capable of projecting a theme dynamically and taming whatever contrapuntal brambles surround it. Of course, dynamic control was far from her only resource, as she delivered each entrance with sufficient variety of articulation to render the subsequent entrances vividly recognizable without the excessive dynamic emphasis that can quickly grow so tiresome.

Overall, Ms. Shenderovich achieved a transparency of texture, such that that one found oneself admiring the beautiful variety of countersubjects, episodes, and surrounding counterpoint rather than feeling prodded to check off “important” entrances as if one were birdwatching and labeling each sighting. One could always hear a fugue subject, but more aptly put, its presence was felt – and one was never bludgeoned with it.

There are undoubtedly pianists out there whose severity of approach convinces critics that the set should not be performed; it is a different story, however, when there is sincere dedication to the “Art” in The Art of the Fugue. Ms. Shenderovich’s performance, although far from the overt emotion of, let’s say, Glenn Gould, reflected a genuine and deep commitment to the music, and she made a compelling case for its performance on the modern piano.

It would be good to see Ms. Shenderovich continue to perform this work and possibly to record it at some point. Once an interpretation has reached such a high level, that is where the “magic” really begins, as the musician takes time to step back from it and return to it with even more life. There is already individuality in her interpretation – the freewheeling dancelike character of her Contrapunctus IX, the expressive lingering before some entrances (memorably in Contrapunctus X), and much more; one could, however, imagine even more color and “play” in the imitative lines towards the end of Contrapuctus XIII Inversus and other spots. The very open score nature of the music in fact encourages freedom of imagination, including vocal phrasing and nuance.

One hesitates, though, to suggest anything in the face of what was already such an enormous achievement.

Now, what about the work’s ending? Well, on this occasion Ms. Shenderovich chose to play the final Contrapunctus XIV in its incomplete version, but she softened that blow after a momentary pause by playing the chorale prelude Wenn wir höchsten Nöten sein (When we are in utmost need) also known as Vor deinen Thron tret ich hiermit (Before Thy Throne I now appear) BWV 668a. C.P.E. Bach had included this chorale prelude in the posthumous publication of The Art of the Fugue and faced some later criticism for a seemingly arbitrary decision – yet J. S. Bach was reported to be revising it in his last days, and that association led it to be known as the Deathbed Chorale. It seemed a justifiable choice to close the pensive evening, and Ms. Shenderovch played it beautifully. The entire concert was dedicated to the memory of Ms. Shenderovich’s mother, Polina Shenderovich, and the mood was fittingly meditative.

Incidentally, for those who wish to know, Ms. Shenderovich chose to play The Art of the Fugue with the score, though one doubts that she needed it. Surely no harm came from having the score there, except for the occasional nanosecond distraction of page-turning. Such details have many solutions, including computer page-turning from digitized score, but one half expects that Ms. Shenderovich will play the work again at some point without the score, as it is all surely a part of her.

This listener gave the performer a well-deserved standing ovation and only regretted that there were not more people present to enjoy and appreciate the concert. Granted, it was not a program for the uninitiated – certainly not one for junior’s first concert! – but it seemed criminal that there were any empty seats. Perhaps a performer who is inclined to devote the necessary attention to Die Kunst der Fuge is not typically one with the time or skills for marketing (get that pianist a manager!), but more could have been done to promote the evening. There was also nothing by way of written promotion of Ms. Shenderovich as a pianist on the program, and so one still knows little about her. Certainly nothing in a brief internet search prepared one for her tremendous abilities, just as nothing about her “just another day” stage presence did. It was all about Bach – and a beautiful experience because of it. Brava and encore!

Share
by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Transform. Innovate. Inspire in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Transform. Innovate. Inspire in Review

The Rensselaer Orchestra
Nicholas DeMaison, conductor
Shirley Ann Jackson, Ph.D, President of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 24, 2018

 

To celebrate the addition of the Bachelor of Science in Music degree at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (founded in 1824), Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented the newly formed Rensselaer Orchestra in a program called Transform. Innovate. Inspire. – all ideals that Rensselaer emphasizes.

The degree is designed for what the institute calls “21st century careers in music, in fields such as sound design for virtual reality, composition for interactive games, and algorithms for music networks.” While a student may opt for a single major, the idea of pairing with a STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics) discipline is the intent, in a program called Art_X. This pairing of art with another field (“X”) will appeal to a wider demographic of students who have talents in both fields.

Shirley Ann Jackson, the President of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute spoke before the concert to outline these goals and to thank the many sponsors (individual and corporate) who made this evening a reality.

Bearing in mind that this is an orchestra just formed, and that their numbers were greatly enhanced by the addition of “professional musicians” (the printed program’s designation), it would not be productive to be overly critical. However, there are always some ideals that must be met (intonation, balance, ensemble, etc), and there are no free passes issued. The fact that the program was what most would consider to be a half of a full concert speaks of the challenge of preparing works for concert performance. This is not meant to be a criticism, as it is always better to play a short program well than to struggle with a longer one.

Nicholas DeMaison took the podium to conduct Missy Mazzoli’s River Rogue Transfiguration in its New York City Premiere. Commissioned by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra, River Rogue Transfiguration was inspired by a 1927 photo by Charles Sheeler of the Ford Motor Company’s River Rogue Plant, which was the largest integrated factory in the world. There is a definite “working” sound (think of Raymond Scott’s “Powerhouse” without the cartoonish-ness), which is highly evocative – a ten-minute musical tour of a factory with all the chaos amid highly organized production.

It seems to this listener that the work never quite reached critical mass, that it simmered but never smoldered. A bit more boldness would have made a world of difference, but aside from this reservation, it was a solid performance of a imaginative work.

Sibelius’s Symphony No. 5 in E-flat major, Op. 82 was the final work on the program. Written in 1915 and revised several times (the 1919 final revision was played), it is Sibelius looking both into the past and the future simultaneously with his consummate mastery.

The opening was excellent, which had my expectations heightened for what was to come. The results were variable. While there were moments of sublime playing, there were issues of balance (winds overpowering the strings), some problematic intonation within sections, and a certain timidity in the string section. To be fair, these are all issues that affect much more established orchestras as well. The basics are there, but there is a need for polishing the finer details.

The second movement suffered from heaviness of sound under the lovely “chirping” theme of the woodwinds, an issue easily solved by reining in the exuberance of the brass section. Even with this issue, it was still enchanting.

The strings came into their own in the third movement finale, with incisive, crisp playing and a boldness I had been hoping for earlier. The horn motif (which Donald Tovey likened to “Thor swinging his hammer”) was arresting. The final six staggered chords, all separated by silences, were tossed off like thunderbolts, which was thrilling to hear.

Maestro DeMaison is an ideal conductor for this orchestra. One can see his continual coaching and encouragement to his musicians, his clear and decisive direction, and his unflagging energy. Given time, he should have these players at a higher level that will not require any supplementing from outside musicians.

The supportive members of the Rensselaer community gave their stars a prolonged standing ovation, of which they can feel very proud. Congratulations, and may the program realize the promise of what was launched on this night.

Share
by Jeffrey Williams  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Pro Musicis Presents the Solera Quartet in Review

Pro Musicis Presents the Solera Quartet in Review

Solera String Quartet: Tricia Park, violin; Miki-Sophia Cloud, violin;
Molly Carr viola; Andrew Janss, cello;
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 23, 2018

 

This past Tuesday night, Weill Recital Hall was the scene of a highly promising and successful debut for the Solera Quartet, in a program that included Mozart’s String Quartet in D minor, K. 173, Beethoven’s String Quartet in A minor, Op. 132, and a quartet entitled Entr’acte (composed in 2011) by Caroline Shaw (b. 1982).

Winner of the 2017 Pro Musicis International Award (and the same organization’s 2018 Father Eugéne Merlet Award for Community Service), the New York City-based Solera Quartet, founded in 2015, is made up of four musicians with outstanding credentials quite apart from their work with Solera. Violinists Tricia Park and Miki-Sophia Cloud, violist Molly Carr, and cellist Andrew Janss have individual biographies which cite an Avery Fisher Career Grant, a Grammy nomination, a top prize in the Primrose International Viola Competition, and collaborations with renowned musicians in the world’s most prominent venues. The individual strengths of these four technically polished and musically vibrant performers were abundantly clear in Tuesday’s recital, but more important to see was that they work well as a very tightly knit ensemble, an achievement not always guaranteed by individual success.

Beyond their playing, Solera is a string quartet with noble missions. One of its stated missions is a charitable one, as they perform for incarcerated communities through their Prison Residency Project (recognized with a Guarneri String Quartet Residency, funded by the Chamber Music America Residency Partnership Program) – a commendable enterprise. Another of the quartet’s missions is to bridge old and new in music, based (as its biography states) “on a deep respect for the rich string quartet tradition alongside an intrepid desire to add new layers to that tradition through its fresh interpretations and innovative approach to the concert experience.” This mixture of old and new is expressed by the very name Solera, originally a Spanish word for the process of making wines and spirits by layering old and new vintages in one barrel.

While their name is ingenious (and arguably more mellifluous than the Japanese equivalent, shitsugi!), and their credentials are certainly impressive, one tries not to be swayed by anything but music. After all, artists are promoted these days as all things to all people – avant garde yet traditional, youthful yet mature, and so on – so which sort of spirit would this Solera barrel truly yield?

Their Mozart, K. 173, which opened, was played with a good mix of youthful vigor and mature probing for a work reflecting Mozart’s deepening involvement (at age seventeen) with this instrumentation. To continue the wine image, one could compare it to the first Beaujolais nouveau of the autumn, fresh, dark, and delicious! With the extroverted expressiveness of Ms. Park and Ms. Cloud, the golden sound of Mr. Janss, and the warm lines and support of Ms. Carr, the ensemble’s vibrancy commanded the audience’s attention from start to finish.

The Solera’s approach is highly physically demonstrative, to the point where one felt the upper strings might go airborne at any moment – a tendency which this reviewer hoped would not affect the hallowed Beethoven to come – but it worked to bring the Mozart a choreographic expressiveness. It can be thrilling for an audience to see the solo lines and phrases heightened visually, and undoubtedly some of this movement can enhance the group’s unity at times. In any case it was clear that all four musicians were truly present in every moment. Appropriately, Every Moment Present is the title of the Solera Quartet’s newly released CD, which this listener looks forward to hearing.

Particular highlights in the Mozart were the Menuetto with its central Trio full of playful phrasing and nuance, and the fugal last movement, a tour de force with its chromatic opening entrance delivered boldly by Mr. Janss and expertly knit together in the subsequent counterpoint. The first movement was the only movement that felt a bit uneasy to this listener, as if the violins were possibly trying to minimize the doggedness of its relentless repeated-note motif (one which one might call Beethovenian, had Beethoven not been only age three at the time of its composition in 1773).

The highlight of the program for this listener followed, Entr’acte by Pulitzer Prize-winning composer Caroline Shaw. Inspired by Haydn’s quartet op. 77, No. 2 and “its spare and soulful shift to an unexpected key for the central trio in the minuet,” Entr’acte takes things, as the composer’s notes state, “to the other side of Alice’s looking glass in a kind of absurd, subtle, technicolor transition.” It is an emotionally powerful work, reflecting clear connections to traditional string quartet music, but with inspired twists, dissonances, and extended techniques to convey (as this reviewer interpreted it) a musical tale of disintegration, struggle, and final loss.

The Solera Quartet played Entr’acte with complete commitment and intense involvement. As its tonal opening harmonies became increasingly disjunct, the musicians skillfully projected that dissolution, descending into what is marked on the score as “pitchless bow noise” – not an easy thing to pull off dramatically, and resulting inevitably in a laugh or two from a few unprepared audience members. The quartet handled the structure expertly, rebuilding energy in the central pizzicato section for a hint of musical stability before all devolved again into lone cello strumming by Mr. Janss, as if “recalling fragments of an old tune or story” (as the score states). The overall effect was devastating, at least as this musician received it.

There is certainly a theatrical element to the work, which the Solera ensemble handled sensitively, but it was never theatrical in a gimmicky way. Put to the test by a few re-hearings on Youtube (by the Solera, of course), Entr’acte emerged with equal power each time. Its music spoke of heartbreak and had this listener in tears.

Though one is at a loss to think of a corresponding wine for the above work, it was certainly a deep blend of old and very new. The second half, on the other hand, would be filled by the music of not only an older era, but an older composer facing illness and death. Beethoven’s String Quartet in A minor Op. 132, one of this listener’s all-time favorite quartets, has as its central movement a monumental masterpiece known as the Heiliger Dankgesang (“Holy Song of Thanks”). Though the admonition not to pour new wine into old wineskins is quite familiar, perhaps the Solera would be the young vessel for this very old and very great wine. One had high hopes.

The first two movements were so well wrought that this listener scribbled in the program, “the maturity and unity of conception that mark the great string quartets.” In fact, all four of the outer movements were hard to fault, with just an occasional intonation issue early on, resulting in some retuning between movements.

The only movement that seemed to want a bit more ripening was the glorious central movement, one of this listener’s favorite movements in the literature. Just as the Shaw piece recalls “fragments of an old tune or story,” it seems that Beethoven’s gratitude here is for gifts imagined and remembered from a rather distant convalescent state. Despite Beethoven’s outpourings of gratitude in this music, this listener finds that with too much energy or commotion in the local detail, the flourishes and trills, one can lose the overarching sense of the gravitas from which Beethoven’s blessed relief emerged. It is perhaps not a coincidence that this reviewer has tended to favor performances of this by older musicians, including one by the Alban Berg Quartet. Such perspective may be a tall order for a quartet full of youth, energy, and promise, but there is plenty of time for this wine to age.

Overall, it was a beautiful and memorable evening. Cheers to the Solera!

Share
by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Key Pianists presents Norman Krieger in Review

Key Pianists presents Norman Krieger in Review

Norman Krieger, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
Wednesday, October 17, 2018, 8PM

 

The fourth season of the wonderful Key Pianists series opened on Wednesday, October 17th with a majestic recital by the American pianist Norman Krieger. Key Pianists has a mission of presenting lesser-known pianists, often stellar in quality, who may not “fit” into the established “star” system.

Mr. Krieger has everything: technique (of course, one assumes), but one that never calls attention to itself, only to the musical ideas- a truly admirable virtue. He has the thundering fortes (but never harsh, surely the inheritance of his former teacher Adele Marcus) and the breathtaking, whispering piano dynamics, along with everything in between. He has the intellectual probity of another of his mentors, Alfred Brendel. His phrasing is generous, and his elasticity always in proportion. He presents the ideal combination of respect for the score, along with a fusion of the composers’ emotional message without sacrificing the performer’s own passion and point of view.

I can always tell by the first two or three notes if I am going to be comfortable in a recital and really enjoy the pianist. Thus, when the opening arpeggio of the first work of the evening, Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 31, No. 2, often referred to as “The Tempest,” was played with absolute perfection, followed by meticulous portamenti, ascending the triad, I was set at ease. The alternation of stormy fast outbursts with the mysteries of the way the arpeggiation is developed were balanced and exciting. I have never heard a more thrilling rendition of the pedaled recitativo sections, which caused me to hold my breath until they were over. The middle movement, Adagio, sang and consoled with evocations of muffled timpani and horns, and the final Allegretto was not rushed, without losing any propulsion or demonic subtext.

Mr. Krieger then had the inspired idea of presenting two sets of preludes by relatively unknown composers. I had never heard a note of Henri Lazarof performed live, only on recordings, and Michael Fine was new to me. The prelude as a free-standing genre piece (not the introduction to something else) has benefited many composers for its concise expression: Chopin, Debussy, Fauré, Rachmaninoff, to name but a few. Mr. Krieger prefaced the performances with well-chosen verbal commentary. In the case of Lazarof, a Bulgarian-born composer who finished his life in the United States, he mentioned correspondences between modern visual art and the late-Romantic and even sometimes twelve-tone language of Lazarof. The three preludes (from a larger set of twelve) were redolent with finely gauged attention to color. Fine, an American-born composer who now resides in Europe, created preludes that are more aphoristic, containing more than a bit of Copland-esque typically “American” atmosphere, something Mr. Krieger said we needed now “more than ever.” His delicacy and wit in these miniatures was delightful.

Mr. Krieger finished the first half with three brief but difficult works by Chopin. First, Chopin’s very first nocturne, the B- flat minor, Op. 9, No. 1, whose debt to Bellini-style cantabile is apparent from the first measure. Once again, Krieger rose to the poetic demands with wonderful variation of the many repeated passages. He followed with two of the etudes, Op. 25, No. 1 in A-flat major and Op. 10, No. 12 in C minor. I have heard the A-flat (sometimes called the “Aeolian Harp”) played with greater delicacy, but rarely greater evenness. Then he gave a truly masterful “no-nonsense” reading of the great C minor (“Revolutionary”) that masked just how difficult it is, so great was his command.

After intermission, just one work dominated: the enormous four-movement Brahms Sonata No. 1 in C major, his Opus 1. This work strains against the boundaries of what a solo piano can do, often sounding like an orchestra. It also contains a nightmarish compendium of technical, musical, and balance problems for the interpreter—we were in good hands however. What amazed me most was Mr. Krieger’s ability within a fast, loud, and propulsive movement (of which there are three in this work) to find oases of great calm and yearning. This allowed me to appreciate how, for a work in a major key, Brahms loves to stray and dwell in the minor mode, typical of his Romantic-era unfulfilled longing. In the second movement, Mr. Krieger captured the sound of the German Männerchor, with its solo call and choral response, through atmospheric pedaling. The exacting leaps of the final two movements posed no apparent problems for Mr. Krieger, as he accelerated to the thrilling conclusion, and rose from the bench with one last release of all that energy.

The audience rose too, as one, and was favored with one encore: Gershwin’s Prelude No. 2, a masterclass on the “art of artlessness” by Mr. Krieger.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Adrienne Haan’s Voluptuous Weimar – A Tribute To Berlin’s Golden Age in Review

Adrienne Haan’s Voluptuous Weimar – A Tribute To Berlin’s Golden Age in Review

Adrienne Haan, Cabaret Singer
Richard Danley, Musical Director
Vince Giordano & The Nighthawks
Joe’s Pub, New York, NY
October 17, 2018

 

 

Cosmopolitan actress and singer Adrienne Haan presented her exciting, stimulating, and inspiring show, Voluptuous Weimar – A Tribute To Berlin’s Golden Age at Joe’s Pub in Manhattan for a one night engagement on Wednesday, October 17 to an enthusiastic packed house. Accompanying Ms. Haan was not only her superb musical director/ pianist Richard Danley, but the astounding Vince Giordano & The Nighthawks. Ms. Haan made her entrance onstage to thunderous applause. In true Weimar fashion, she wore a sleeveless, shimmering short red dress. In addition, she sported a very short hair style with a headband complete with a beauty mark and accentuated eye makeup. Ms. Haan began her program with the very bouncy yet topical song Alles Schwindel (It’s All a Swindle). In that opening number, Ms. Haan quickly ingratiated herself with the audience not only with her beauty and charm and her wide, diverse vocal range, but also with her complete knowledge and understanding of the material she was interpreting. In that opening song, one heard her lovely soprano voice, but she also proved that she could project that well-known guttural sound so associated with legendary artists as Marlene Dietrich and Edith Piaf. Immediately after finishing the song, Ms. Haan smoothly segued into her next number, Sex Appeal , by giving a brief description as to what the theme of her show was about – Berlin’s Golden Age beginning directly after the first World War in 1918 when Germany’s economy collapsed. By 1923 the situation became so desperate that decadence became more prominent in Berlin. Social and sexual values were changing and, in Ms. Haan’s words, “millionaires had become paupers”.

Then by the mid-1920’s, the women’s movement and the gay movement had made their presence well-known in Berlin, especially in the artistic world where creative geniuses like Kurt Weill, Fritz Lang, and Josef Von Sternberg were flourishing. She then sang Ich bin die fesch Lola (They call me naughty Lola), the Friedrich Hollaender song made famous by Marlene Dietrich in the classic 1930 Von Sternberg film The Blue Angel. In her version, Ms. Haan began the song with a slow tempo and then gradually drifted into the more rowdy way audiences were used to hearing Dietrich sing it. Ms. Haan then sang what later became Dietrich’s most famous song, Ich bin von Kopf bis Fuss auf Liebe eingestellt (Falling in Love Again), also from The Blue Angel, while seductively sidling up to her pianist Richard Danley on the piano bench. She began the song in sprechgesang (spoken singing) form, and then when she reached the chorus she sang it full-out in German and English. Saxophonist Dan Levinson and violinist Andy Stein were featured very effectively in this number. The next song, Jonny, wenn du Geburtstag hast was also written by Hollaender for Dietrich. In setting up the song, Ms. Haan said that by the early thirties, Berliners loved anything American – Jazz, Josephine Baker, and Hollywood, particularly Johnny Weismuller. As a result, at that time, all Berlin girls called their lovers “Jonny”. In her interpretation of the song, Ms. Haan blithely walked through the audience like a charming free spirit and playfully flirted with a few men by kissing them or playfully tousling their hair. She also sang the song in both German and English.

Before singing Irving Berlin’s Blue Skies, Ms. Haan mentioned that Josephine Baker’s recording of that song was so popular that it resonated throughout France and Germany, and was played in all of the dance halls in both countries. It was a lovely upbeat version with Vince Giordano, himself beautifully soloing on bass saxophone. She followed up with another Irving Berlin song, Cheek to Cheek. In both songs, Ms. Haan’s lovely soprano voice was beautifully showcased. Note: Even though Ms. Haan saluted both Dietrich and Baker by singing their songs or songs they made popular, she wisely made no attempt at imitation, but made each selection her very own. She then mentioned that in 1932, when Cole Porter’s song Night and Day reached Germany, it became very popular in Berlin. Her rendition evoked not only the lovely lush melody that was so representative of the early thirties, but also the impending shadow of Nazism that was just about to take over Germany and, later, most of Europe. For the novelty song, Ich bin ein Vamp (I am a Vamp) , Ms. Haan referred to the big cabaret club in Berlin in the 1930’s, El Dorado. It was there she said that one looked for the pleasures of “one night”. Another Friedrich Hollaender number written for Dietrich, Ich Weiss nicht zu wem ich gehore (I don’t know who I belong to), was a lovely torch song in which Ms. Haan again showed off her fine range and dramatic talents.

Then in a complete change of pace, Ms. Haan, Mr. Danley, and Vince Giordano & The Nighthawks pulled out all the stops with a dynamite version of the classic Big Band number Sing, Sing, Sing. Before presenting this song, Ms. Haan revealed that the German youths admired anything American and British, and this number proved to be so popular that when the song reached Berlin in 1939, the Swing Youth Group was formed in Hamburg, however the group had to be circumspect and kept “underground,” because any swing music was considered Entartete Musik (degenerate music) in Nazi Germany. In her interpretation of this number, Ms. Haan sparkled, bubbled, shimmied, and percolated all over the stage with sex appeal and sensual abandon looking like she was ready to explode with excitement. The number also showcased Vince Giordano & The Nighthawks especially the marvelous Paul Wells doing masterful work on percussion. It was electrifying. Ms. Haan and the musicians followed that volcanic excitement with a delightful treatment of the 1932 song Bei mir bistu shein with Ms. Haan singing in both German and English. This was another song that was embraced by the Swing Youth Group, who were captivated by the Andrews Sisters’s recording. In Ms. Haan’s hands, the number was not only of one of the many highlights of the evening, but was also a wonderful showcase for trumpeter Mike Ponella.

In singing These Foolish Things, Ms. Haan said the song was also very much a favorite of the Swing Youth Group. She sang it very soulfully, digging deep into its lyrics and showing the tenderness, longing, and beauty in the song. It was very moving and touching – and thankfully, quite original!!

Puttin’ On The Ritz proved to be the perfect ending to an enchanting, enlightening, and overall, a most enjoyable and entertaining evening of cabaret. It was a fun version with Ms. Haan and her musicians obviously enjoying themselves and each other. For her encore, Ms. Haan sang another song strongly associated with Marlene Dietrich, Lili Marleen (later Lili Marlene). However it was not originally written for Dietrich. The music was actually composed during World War I and the lyrics were not written until 1938 on the eve of World War II. In her many appearances entertaining the troops during World War II and later in her concerts, it became Dietrich’s second most popular song next to Ich bin von Kopf bis Fuss auf Liebe eingestellt (Falling in Love Again). Again, Ms. Haan made her version of this song her very own and sang it with the right amount of love sentiment, sadness, and hope.

Kudos to Richard Danley and Vince Giordano & The Nighthawks for their brilliant accompaniment and musicianship. And most of all, huge kudos to Adrienne Haan for giving us so much pleasure and joy in the wonderful songs she sang and for her superb artistry as a sterling and riveting cabaret performer. I do hope that Joe’s Pub brings this inspired and innovative show back again. More!! More!! Bravo!!

Richard Holbrook for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

 

Share
by nyconcertreview  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Carnegie Hall presents Sphinx Virtuosi “Music Without Borders” in Review

Carnegie Hall presents Sphinx Virtuosi “Music Without Borders” in Review

Sphinx Virtuosi: Alex Laing, clarinet; Annelle K. Gregory, violin; Sterling Elliott,Thomas Mesa, cello; Damien Sneed, John Boonenberg, piano; Olman Piedra, Andre Dowell, percussion
EXIGENCE (vocal ensemble), Eugene Rogers, Conductor
Carnegie Hall, Stern Auditorium, New York, NY
October 11, 2018

 

One of the most satisfying evenings of music of the season thus far was provided by the Detroit-based Sphinx Virtuosi, a conductorless string orchestra formed of the finest Black and Latinx musicians selected through nationwide competition. I have reviewed Sphinx previously in these pages (2016) and have always been impressed not only by the mission statement of excellence in the arts through diversity, but by the sheer passion and quality of the players.

The concert began with Syrian-American composer Kareem Roustom’s Dabke, the third movement of A Voice Exclaiming. The dabke is a folk dance common to Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria, usually done at celebrations like weddings, though it may have even earlier origins as a work-dance. Despite the celebratory origin, did I detect a subtext having more to do with sorrow in this work?

Shostakovich’s Chamber Symphony (Op. 110a) was next, a transcription by Rudolph Barshai of Shostakovich’s String Quartet No. 8 (1960). It begins with the D-S-C-H name motto, which is obsessively developed throughout the work. There is a lot of foreboding to choose from in Shostakovich’s output, but this piece is truly harrowing, as well as autobiographical. It contains the Jewish folk tune he used in the last movement of his mature Piano Trio (dedicated to his dead friend, musicologist I. I. Sollertinsky), sung by prisoners as they waited to be gunned down row by row, then bulldozed into a mass grave during WWII. The work also contains typically sarcastic versions of skittish dance music, the terrifying knocks on the door by the secret police, and numerous quotations from his previous works, including the opera that got him in so much trouble in 1936, Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District. Shostakovich himself stated that he wanted to dedicate the work (the Quartet, that is) as a requiem to himself, since no one else would dedicate one after his death. His shame at buckling and accepting membership in the Communist party was partly responsible. This may be the finest rendition of the work that I have ever heard, including both quartet and string orchestra versions. It brooded, simmered, and raged with staggering intensity. My head is still reeling.

The very fine young cellist Sterling Elliott then played two movements from Cassadó’s Suite for Solo Cello with perfect intonation, style, and total involvement.

Terence Blanchard, American jazz trumpeter and composer, wrote his Dance for a New Day, a co-commission with Carnegie Hall, in view of the chaotic state of current events. It is really a small concerto for violin and cello, with intricate rhythmic writing for both soloists, passionately played by Annelle K. Gregory, violin, and Thomas Mesa, cello. Despite the chaos, the work itself seems more optimistic, a message that was shared by most of the contemporary works on the program.

Then came the unveiling of a new element of the Sphinx family: EXIGENCE, a vocal ensemble founded and conducted by Eugene Rogers. They premiered (NY premiere) a vision unfolding by Derrick Spiva, Jr. its text, also by Mr. Spiva, is about never giving up no matter how strongly one is oppressed. The choral effects were managed beautifully, with excellent solo contributions from choir members.

They followed this with Joel Thompson’s Caged Bird, a reference to Maya Angelou, another plea for freedom, with an effective clarinet solo part that was almost inaudible when the choir was singing full throttle. Ndikhokhele Bawo (Lead me, oh Father), a South African traditional anthem with words very similar to Psalm 23, was gorgeous. The built-in encore was Glory, from the movie Selma, composed by John Legend with words by Common and Rhymefest. It spoke for itself, and also for the triumph that is Sphinx: “The glory is us.”

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Korean American National Coordinating Council presents Ureuk Symphony Orchestra

Korean American National Coordinating Council presents Ureuk Symphony Orchestra

Ureuk Symphony Orchestra
Christopher Joonmoo Lee (Ri Jun Mu), conductor
Anna Takeda, violin
Merkin Hall at Kaufmann Music Center, New York, NY
October 6, 2018

 

Ureuk was a legendary musician of Korean antiquity (sixth century) who invented the kayakum (transliterations vary widely, including kayagum, kayakeum, kayago, gayakum and gayageum), a kind of zither with twelve silk strings, a cousin of the Japanese koto and Chinese guzhen, which made a brief appearance in this concert. I was assigned to review only one concerto—the concert also included Beethoven’s Egmont overture, Op. 84, and Bizet’s Symphony in C, and a concerto for kayakum titled Ong Hye-ya by Han Choi.

The Ureuk Symphony is not a fixed body of musicians, but a collection of students from the three leading New York conservatories, plus a handful of area freelancers. Perhaps this accounted for the balance problems that occurred every time the brass and tympani played, nearly drowning out everything else. I will concede that Merkin Hall is truly not an ideal space for an orchestra anyway.

The concerto was Mendelssohn’s “evergreen” violin concerto in E minor, Op. 64, with Anna Takeda as soloist. This work is so ubiquitous that it becomes easy to overlook its radical features: no opening orchestral tutti exposition before the solo entry, the cadenza at the end of the development section serving as a lead-in to the recapitulation, and all three movements played attaca. A great number of interpretive styles are possible, and Ms. Takeda gave a sweet-toned, elegant, always polished rendition that worked well. I could have wished for more fire at times, but she was always convincing, and in fact, did begin to open up in the fiendishly busy final movement. Her intonation and virtuosity were immaculate in what was an excellent performance.

 

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Artist Series presents The Music of Dinos Constantinides in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) Artist Series presents The Music of Dinos Constantinides in Review

Froso Ktistaki, Louis Wendt, piano; Athanasios Zervas, soprano and alto saxophone; Dionisios Roussos, alto saxophone; Leo Saguiguit, tenor saxophone; Eric Honour, baritone saxophone; McKenzie Miller, soprano; Leanne Clement, mezzo-soprano; André Chaing, baritone
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 8, 2018

 

I have reviewed Mr. Constantinides twice previously in these pages (2015 and 2016), and I am inclined favorably to his music, which displays a truly original point of view and lots of personality, with rewarding stretches of yearning neo-Romantic melody, and helpings of Greek folksong and other monophonic melodies, such as Gregorian chant fragments and/or even ancient Greek fragments of notated music (such as they are understood). It is rhythmically interesting and, at least for the piano, the sonorities are pleasing to the ear.

A forty-minute selection of solo piano works opened the concert, played by the wonderful Froso Ktistaki, who has a great ear for piano sound, a large imagination, and an obvious commitment to and involvement with this composer and his language. Her playing was lovely, particularly in the Reflections IX, a mournful remembrance of a departed rescue cat, Tiger, who belonged to the composer. Theme and Variations, based on a Greek folk tune, was a collection of brief responses or “ruminations” on the original tune. The Heavens Are Telling, a transcription of an organ and voice work, would never be mistaken for Haydn’s joyful paean in The Creation, but Mr. Constantinides’ has its place too, with the second repeat of the “B” section ravishing in Ms. Ktistaki’s hands. The Suite for a Young Man was an often-humorous “musical biography” of coming-of-age, including the longed-for yet dreaded and awkward first kiss. The work reminded me in a strange way of a smaller version of the huge Grande sonate: Les quatre âges by Alkan that depicts a man at the ages of 20, 30, 40, and 50.

Alto Saxophonist Athanasios Zervas brought his wonderful control into play with the Midnight Fantasy II, redolent with clusters adorning the skeleton of a Nat King Cole song, not quoted literally of course, rather stylistically evoked. Ms. Ktistaki was the perfect partner in this work.

After intermission, the Athens Saxophone Quartet (Athanasios Zervas, Dionisios Roussos, Leo Saguiguit, and Eric Honour) took the stage to “speak to each other,” one, two, three, and four at a time in the aphoristic “-logues” (pro-, tetra-, mono-, and epi-). Their massed sound was very orchestral, their virtuosic coordination impeccable.

Unfortunately, for me, the weakest work of the evening came last: Rosanna (and Angelina, in David Madden’s original 1989 libretto), a “one-act opera,” which is an inaccurate billing indeed. It seems more like a sketch for something that could be an opera someday. The subject matter certainly has verismo “cred”: two friends, two dead children, love gone wrong, jealousy, and gossip. Mr. Constantinides, however, has allotted most of the true action to a village priest narrator who sings (and speaks)that action in a great clump right at the beginning, leaving not much room for anything to happen. This was a piano-accompanied concert version, with the singers (McKenzie Miller, soprano, Leanne Clement, mezzo-soprano, André Chaing, baritone) inexplicably arrayed behind the piano, which made their sound less immediate and their language often unintelligible. Mr. Constantinides conducted the able pianist, Louis Wendt, who could have just as easily played his interesting music without a conductor. The strongest of the three soloists was Mr. Chiang, whose diction was clear and whose sonority was appropriate. Ms. Miller and Ms. Clement suffered from the aforementioned lack of clear language, which was interesting to me because when the soprano/mezzo-soprano had a few lines to speak instead of sing, everything was crystal clear. Singers: you can make a beautiful, focused sonority that will not overwhelm your consonants if you remember to place the voice forward and hang the consonants on the front of the tone. The composer’s soaring lines for the soprano and mezzo-soprano did not help this issue, nor did the vocal range, which was all over the map for both, creating either pronounced wobble or shrill tones. They were, however, obviously emotionally committed to what they were singing. There were also two uncredited “assistants” seated on the stage, who delivered only spoken commentary. The music itself contained many good moments of interesting harmony, reflecting the emotions of the story, but it meandered too much, it lacked contrast, and the pacing was “off.” None of this deterred the enthusiastic supporters of Mr. Constantinides, who stood unanimously at the end.

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Wa Concerts presents John Harbison and Joan Tower Birthday Celebration: The enchantment of folklore in Review

Wa Concerts presents John Harbison and Joan Tower Birthday Celebration: The enchantment of folklore in Review

Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima, clarinet; Sally Chisholm, viola; Mohamed Shams, piano
Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY
September 29, 2018

 

The third series of “Wa” concerts opened on Saturday with customary excellence from the superb curator, clarinetist Charles Neidich and his collaborators Ayako Oshima (clarinet), Sally Chisholm (viola), and Mohamed Shams (piano). The intimacy of the Tenri space is really part of the success of these concerts, bringing chamber music back to “the chamber” as it were, surrounded by visual art as well. Besides the double birthday celebration, a sub-theme was the influence of folk music on classical “art” music, whether be from itinerant outdoor players, indigenous/religious cultures, or popular song.

 

On this occasion we were treated not only to the delicious symphony of food and drink prepared lovingly by his wife Ayako Oshima, but also to her deliciously elegant and appropriately humorous clarinet playing in the opening trios (six of the thirteen, Op. 47) by Franz Krommer, a Bohemian composer born three years after Mozart, whose lifespan outlasted those of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert. No one is going to mistake Krommer for one of those immortals, but in the hands of such stylish virtuosi (along with energetic viola playing by Sally Chisholm), the best possible case was made for these pieces, described by Mr. Neidich as “street music” transformed and sublimated into Austro-Hungarian elegance.

 

Joan Tower and John Harbison both turn 80 this year. Ms. Tower was seated one chair away from me, and she does NOT seem 80, whatever that is supposed to be. She is gregarious, humorous, and of course whip-smart and talented. She introduced her fiendishly difficult clarinet solo Wings (originally titled Panthers, then Falcons, and finally Wings) by acknowledging how important the instrument has been to her for her entire career—that it “can do anything.” And boy did it do everything, in Mr. Neidich’s stunning portrayal. His ascents into the stratospheric regions of the instrument were all the more exciting preceded by the mellow low registers, every note true and melodious, somehow amid the encyclopedia of treacherous pitfalls for the player.

 

After this workout, no ambulance had to be summoned. Instead Mr. Neidich plunged right into Harbison’s The 9 Rasas, for clarinet, viola, and piano, a 2016 work in its New York premiere. Harbison could not be present due to work on a viola sonata for this evening’s violist, Ms. Chisholm. Harbison relates: “It interested me especially that the Rasas were conceived as juices, essences, tastes . . . In my quest to write music of diverse musical characters, and as part of a continuing wayward interest in Hindu culture, I knew even before studying the concept of the Nine Rasas that I would write a piece with that title. I approach such a piece with no intention of a touristic borrowing from the musical speech of that culture, but rather with the pleasure of seizing a musical opportunity. . . According to the Rasa theory of the Natya Shastra, entertainment is a desired effect of performance arts but not the primary goal. The primary goal is to transport the individual in the audience into another parallel reality, full of wonder and bliss, where he experiences the essence of his own consciousness, and reflects on spiritual and moral questions.” And that’s exactly what happened, with faultless unisons between clarinet and viola (always difficult to tune) and perfect ensemble with piano. And may I say, Mr. Shams is fast becoming one of my favorite collaborative chamber pianists in the New York area. His energy, sonority, and humor are seemingly infinite.

 

After intermission, Joan Tower’s music was again heard, this time the 1983 Fantasy (. . . those harbor lights), which contains an un-obvious programmatic reference to a difficult farewell to a romantic partner when she was sixteen, and the popular song that was playing at the time (originally written in 1937, published in 1950, and covered by such notables as Elvis Presley and The Platters). How indelible the sense of hearing can be! The work, for clarinet and piano, depicts (but not slavishly) the twinkling of lights over water, the rocking back and forth of ships, and of course the emotional intensity of the two lovers. It was a highlight of the evening for me, and the performance was preceded by just a few bars of the original song played by Mr. Shams alone. As Mr. Neidich noted, if you were counting on hearing a snippet of the song quoted literally, you were out of luck—transformation of materials at its most rigorous, yet enjoyable.

 

Mr. Shams then played the brief, claveciniste-inspired Minuet (for Joan Tower) by Harbison, the perfect inter-composer tribute, with clarity amid the trills and the modern tonal vocabulary, a sort of “Couperin seen through a fun-house mirror.”

 

The concert concluded with real Gallic “impudence” in the form of Jean Françaix’ antic Trio for clarinet, viola, and piano, brilliantly rendered by these top-of-the-line players. It roared and danced and still had time for crystalline, typically “French” sound. Bravi to all!

 

Share
by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Pro Musicis presents Delphine Bardin in Recital

Pro Musicis presents Delphine Bardin in Recital

Delphine Bardin, pianist
Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
September 25, 2018

 

A recital program of unusual subtlety, played with exceptional nuance and sensitivity, was presented this week by French pianist Delphine Bardin under the auspices of the Pro Musicis organization. She assembled a program of some of the more intimate works of Mozart, Schumann, and Debussy, and she did so with a special, understated artistry. To sum things up, in a world of loud messages and hype, Ms. Bardin showed the power of a whisper.

 

Walking onstage with undemonstrative, dignified demeanor, Ms. Bardin is the antithesis of classical music “stars” today, many of whom value flash and ratings. She is all about the music, and whether or not that quality gains ultimate recognition will reflect more on the world than on her gifts as an artist.

 

Opening her program with Mozart’s oft-overlooked Sonata in B-flat major, K. 281, she played with consummate control, pure, crystalline sound, and lucid conception. While experts in studies of historical performance practice would undoubtedly approve of her every note, her playing never devolved into the porcelain-doll preciosity that besets that specialization. Though dwelling within polite Classical boundaries, her Mozart was vibrant and feelingful, as far as one can go in that direction without anachronism or overromanticizing. She inhabited each note with sincerity. Though she never overtly flaunted her technique, her degree of technical control – including impossibly pianissimo trilling – was stunning.

 

Glancing at the program’s biographical notes, one was reminded that Ms. Bardin was the winner of the Clara Haskil Prize (1997, Vevey, Switzerland), an easily imaginable win, in view of the musical similarities between Ms. Bardin and the late great Haskil (1895-1960). The Clara Haskil International Piano Competition, which selected such winners as Christoph Eschenbach and Richard Goode (and past finalists including Mitsuko Uchida and Jeffrey Kahane), fittingly helped launch Ms. Bardin’s career and led to a performance on Carnegie Hall’s “Distinctive Debut Series” in 2001. This week’s concert marked Ms. Bardin’s first solo performance at this Carnegie since 2001, but she was not idle in the interim! She has concertized, won the 2009 Pro Musicis International Award (resulting in this week’s performance, among others), and received the coveted “Diapason d’Or” award (2010) for her recording of the thirteen Barcarolles by Gabriel Fauré.

 

After Mozart, Ms. Bardin moved to Schumann – not the Sonata No. 2 in G minor, Op. 22, as announced on the Carnegie Hall website and elsewhere, but the much-loved Kinderszenen, Op. 15. This set of thirteen miniatures suited the pianist well, each heard afresh thanks to the same understated approach that characterized her Mozart. The first piece, Von fremden Ländern und Menschen (Of Foreign Lands and People), might have seemed too straight-forward at first, causing an impatient reviewer to criticize prematurely, but with the repeat of each of its halves, there was ever-deeper expressivity, and all made sense in retrospect. Ms. Bardin knows how to defer gratification in favor of delayed deliciousness, a quality which brought to mind the elegance of, say, Alicia de Larrocha and other similarly refined performers. Further deferred rewards were found in Bittendes Kind (Pleading Child), Traumerei (Dreaming), and the meltingly beautiful Kind im Einschlummern (Child Falling Asleep).

 

Inner voices were beautifully highlighted in Fast zu Ernst (Almost Too Serious), although, as a minor reservation, this listener wanted a bit more projection of the top lines, as one also wanted in Glückes genug (Happy Enough) and Fürchtenmachen (Frightening). Some fuller moments (forte or fortissimo) were also tempered, for example in Ritter vom Stechkenpferd (Knight of the Hobbyhorse) and Wichtige Begebenheit (Important Event), though the spirit was vigorous nonetheless.

 

Dynamics are by nature a relative matter, and so a truly skillful pianist can create excitement and musical shape without high decibel levels. Ms. Bardin did just that. Highlights were Kuriose Geschichte (A Curious Story), filled with vivid character, and Häsche-Mann (Blind Man’s Bluff), equally vibrant, with its sharp accents and rapid, electrically-charged staccato notes reminding one of the great Martha Argerich.

 

Following Kinderszenen came the most unusual selection, the five posthumous variations on the theme of Schumann’s Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13. Countless times one has heard these five variations interspersed among the other twelve core Etudes of Schumann’s great set, and countless times this reviewer has heard (and performed) the Op. 13 without the additional five; what was a completely new experience for this musician, though, was to hear the five played alone without the larger set, simply the Five Posthumous Variations from Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13. At first it seemed as strange and disembodied – like reciting a play’s epilogue without the play; in the hands of Ms. Bardin, however, it was ultimately persuasive. The five variations are certainly jewels, standing on their own merits (as long as the main theme is included, as it was by Ms. Bardin), so perhaps their separate performance will settle into common practice eventually – though this musician, at the risk of seeming a curmudgeon, hopes not. In any case, they were given, as predicted, extremely sensitive renderings, with again the forte end of the spectrum subdued to leave one in a meditative state for intermission.

 

If one sensed already that Ms. Bardin is a unique artist, her second half of all Debussy confirmed the impression. Taking on Debussy’s Images, Book I, Ms. Bardin was superb in all three pieces. She dazzled with her abilities to paint sonic landscapes in the shimmering Reflets dans l’eau and to sustain and give direction to the slow, ponderous Hommage à Rameau. Ms. Bardin’s sad spoken reminder of Debussy’s death in 1918 (this year being the centennial) made especially poignant her voicing of Mouvement, only nominally vivacious, with its ominous references to Dies Irae in the left hand.

 

Debussy’s Études, Book I, closed the concert. It was a brave programming move, as these six pieces can be difficult for audiences to embrace. The titles themselves, referring to intervals and numbers of fingers, allude not to sparkling water or other colorful images that the average listener can latch onto, but to aspects of piano pedagogy – five-finger playing, thirds, fourths, octaves, etc. Though each piece can be a gem which transcends such matters, their success depends upon an unusually keen intellect, combined with technical mastery, a vivid imagination, and the ability to project the same to the audience. Ms. Bardin possesses all of these qualities. Her technique was brilliant in the most unforgiving passages and her pedaling was a marvel. One could not help thinking how great it would be to hear her perform all twelve of Debussy’s Études one day – though one would also like to hear her in the Préludes. In any case one will certainly be hearing more from this very special artist.

 

The fine program notes of Dr. Richard E. Rodda undoubtedly helped the audience along, but whether because of these or because of the performances – or both – the listeners were exceptionally attentive. They seemed spellbound and gave the pianist a rousing ovation at the end of this remarkable evening.

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