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.”

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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.

 

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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.

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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!

 

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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.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
AGP Agency New York presents Bence Szepesi, clarinet in Review

AGP Agency New York presents Bence Szepesi, clarinet in Review

Bence Szepesi, clarinet
Zhao Yangmingtian, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
September 19, 2018 at 8pm

 

Bence Szepesi may not be a name known to many New York musicians, but that could change quite easily, if Wednesday night’s debut recital is any gauge. He is an extremely gifted clarinetist, for starters, and his program – works of Leo Weiner, Brahms, Bernstein, and Rossini – was quite appealing. Beyond that, as the evening progressed, he displayed an ability to connect to his audience in a way that will serve him well wherever he goes.

For the record, the above summary is not clairvoyance; Mr. Szepesi has already achieved considerable recognition in his native Hungary and throughout Europe, as his biographical notes outlined briefly. A graduate with distinction from the Franz Liszt Academy of Music in Budapest, he counts among his honors Hungary’s Artisjus Award and now teaches at the University of Miskolc. He has lectured and performed widely as soloist and as principal clarinetist of the Dohnanyi Symphony Orchestra, and he directs the Budapest Saxophone Quartet, which he founded in 1995. For more information one can visit his website: www.benceszepesi.com/en.

The presenter for this occasion was an organization called AGP, headed by Hungarian pianist Adam Gyorgy, whose charisma and elegance are becoming increasingly known as he appears internationally. Mr. Gyorgy spoke eloquently at the opening of the evening to the sold-out house, as did a dignitary from the Hungarian consulate, together creating an air of excitement and anticipation. It was good to have such an opening introduction, as Mr. Szepesi’s own entrance struck one initially as almost self-effacing. No one could guess, as he walked onstage with pianist Zhao Yangmingtian, what impressive playing lay ahead, though it only took one piece to find out.

The program opened with the famous showpiece for clarinet and piano, Peregi Verbunk, Op. 40, by Leo Weiner. Its subtitle “Recruiting Dance” proved apt, as it effectively rallied the listeners measure by measure. By the end, the audience was fully “on board” musically. Weiner created a work here not unlike what one would expect if Franz Liszt had written his Hungarian Rhapsodies for clarinet – opening after a flourish with a soulful folk-like melody in minor mode, it becomes more rousing and elaborate bit by bit. Mr. Szepesi met all of its challenges with a superb sense of line in the long-breathed phrases and astonishing ease in the fleet passagework. Especially in the extended solo cadenza, he proved himself to be a master of his instrument. He was attentive to matters of tone in every register – and in a very wide dynamic range. Mr. Yangmingtian collaborated ably, lending judicious support throughout and with precise “punctuation” for the improvisatory clarinet acrobatics – no mean feat!

Moving on to the ballast of the program, the musicians took on the Brahms Sonata for Clarinet and Piano in E-flat (Op. 120 No. 2). A magnificent autumnal work, both in spirit and in terms of chronology, it was written only a few years before the composer’s death for his clarinet “muse” Richard Mühlfeld. Mr. Szepesi had just the right warmth of sound for this piece, and again an exquisite sense of line. This listener felt that the overall performance would have benefitted from both performers taking more time to create a mellower, more spacious feeling, but that may be hard to achieve unless a duo performs together regularly. This evening showed some signs of being an ad hoc collaboration.

On the subject of time, many performers now try to accommodate the dreaded (computer-induced?) attention-deficit audience. The printed program even announced the concert’s total duration (an increasing trend), as “55 minutes, no intermission” – a short evening, indeed! This reviewer is usually grateful for such thoughtfulness regarding time, but one hopes that such consideration is not invading performers’ thinking to the detriment of full surrender to the musical experience. Late Brahms sometimes needs simply to take the listener by the hand, unapologetically, to a different musical era which knows no subways or rush-hours.

On the subject of haste, there appeared also to have been some hasty ensemble preparation. Though Mr. Szepesi led with beautifully seamless fluid lines, the piano and clarinet parts just missed melding in tempo and conception. The

second movement in particular had an unsettled feeling. Granted, it is “appassionato,” but it is passion of a mature nature, pensive and searching enough to set off the “creamy center” in B major, music of profound nobility.

Taking more time might have encouraged more attention to blending of timbres too. The pianist, described by Mr. Gyorgy as being also a soloist who will debut in that capacity next season, sounded just a tad too soloistic at times. The steeliness of sound which might have been perfect in a work of Liszt or Prokofiev tended to overwhelm the chamber collaboration, and the piano lid being all the way up may not have helped (though this reviewer usually likes it up as long as the approach is tempered accordingly).

Where the duo worked perfectly together was in the final work of the printed program, Leonard Bernstein’s Sonata for Clarinet and Piano. Here was music delivered with unified conception, spirit, and polish, and the slight edge in the piano sound was an asset. The piece itself, composed when Bernstein was in his early twenties, was a joy to hear – and just when one wondered what room there may be for more in this year of Bernstein’s centennial, the duo proved that what is good cannot wear out its welcome. They played with spirit, energy, and brilliance.

Mr. Yangmingtian shone in the rapid rhythmic dancelike sections and was beautifully flexible throughout. Mr. Szepesi projected an enormous range of sounds from the faintest tones to clarion brightness and piercing brashness where called for. The synchronization was terrific. The excited audience clapped in rhythm to request an encore, and Rossini’s Introduction, Theme and Variations, which had been listed in the original publicity for the concert but omitted from the printed program, was reinstated.

To say that the Rossini piece was brilliant would be an understatement. The pyrotechnics from the clarinet were simply breathtaking. Lightning fast passagework and quicksilver dynamic changes were all within seemingly easy grasp, and a dazzling finish led to still more thunderous ovations.

Just as all appeared to be coming to a lengthy parade of flowers, and your reviewer and others in the audience had already dashed out, a house intercom audible in the elevator could be heard relaying, “last piece,” – so despite having finally reached the lobby, this reviewer ran back up to catch the final moments of a second encore. A klezmer-esque showstopper, unleashing the folkdance spirit in performers and audience alike, was closing the evening on yet another high. The audience was ecstatic and will surely return for more.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Fryderyk Chopin Society of Texas presents Dzmitry Ulasiuk in Review

Fryderyk Chopin Society of Texas presents Dzmitry Ulasiuk in Review

Winners of the 25th (2017) International Chopin Piano Competition
Dzmitry Ulasiuk, pianist
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
September 17, 2018

 

As a Winner of the 2017 International Chopin Piano Competition of the Fryderyk Chopin Society of Texas (Corpus Christi), Belarus-born pianist Dzmitry Ulasiuk (www.dzmitryulasiuk.com) took the stage of Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall for his half of the winners’ concert with what amounted to a full program in itself. Expectations were high, naturally, but he met and surpassed them with exceptional artistry.

Mr. Ulasiuk chose to open with Ten Pieces from Romeo and Juliet, Op. 75, a thirty-five-minute set of Prokofiev’s own piano arrangements from his famous ballet. The rest of the pianist’s program was Scriabin, including the Sonata No. 9, Op. 68 (“Black Mass”), and the Sonata No. 5 in F-sharp Major, Op. 53 as his finale. Shorter offerings included the Nocturne for the Left Hand, Op. 9, No. 2, two Etudes from Op. 42 (No. 4 in F-sharp Major and No. 5 in C-sharp minor), and three Mazurkas (Op. 3, Nos. 7 and 9, and Op. 25, No. 3).

Curiously, for this Chopin-inspired competition, Mr. Ulasiuk played no Chopin, but, as he noted following his gracious opening remarks, “Chopin exists here between the lines” – referring to the great piano legacy of Chopin which can be felt in all piano compositions following in the Romantic period and beyond. Particularly in the Scriabin Mazurkas one felt – for obvious reasons – the strong connection to Chopin; when one plays Russian music as well as Mr. Ulasiuk does, however, any names, nationalities, or needs to justify repertoire tend to disappear.

It should be noted that Mr. Ulasiuk began his portion of the program around 9:45pm. The first part of the program, already close to 90 minutes long, had been lengthened by an encore requested of the first winner by one of the contest’s administrators – Chopin’s Polonaise Op. 53, no less! Mr. Ulasiuk proved himself to be a consummate professional, showing not the slightest bit of fatigue. In fact, this listener was already starting to flag due to the late hour but was immediately rejuvenated by the first notes of his intense musicianship.

The Romeo and Juliet pieces were superb. First of all, Mr. Ulasiuk projects quite easily the huge and well-balanced sonorities that reach every corner of a concert hall. One couldn’t help thinking, through the thundering bellicose Montagues and Capulets and the balletic Masks, how ideally suited he must be for Prokofiev’s Third Concerto – but back to the pieces at hand! Along with ample power and technique, Mr. Ulasiuk revealed sensitivity and soulfulness at all the right times, giving a hallowed feeling to Friar Lawrence (with the perfect amount of breathing in his phrasing!) and creating beautifully delicate shadings in his haunting rendition of the Dance of the Girls with Lilies. He captured the character of each dance expertly, making Mercutio spring to life and weaving a spell in Young Juliet. The final dance, Romeo and Juliet before Parting, conveyed more heartbreak than Shakespeare’s own words could. Mr Ulasiuk is an artist of depth and mastery, with unwavering conceptions which capture his listener. His conception of Romeo and Juliet was one to remember, and one hopes he will consider recording the set.

There are times when a reviewer simply decides to put pencil and paper away and enjoy the music, and this was one of those times. The remainder of this well-crafted program only confirmed one’s initial impression that Mr. Ulasiuk is an exceptional artist. Scriabin’s Nocturne for the Left Hand was controlled beautifully, with only occasional differences of opinion on the pedaling (it would seem on the verge of being too much, but all did make sense ultimately). In the Etude in C-sharp, oddly, one wanted a bit more pedal to help enhance the expansive harmonies, and basses in particular, but again these were matters of personal preference, and his interpretations were never less than persuasive. His playing always had direction and dramatic shape.

Scriabin’s “Black Mass” Sonata was one of the high points of the Scriabin selections, and it has never been this reviewer’s favorite, so kudos are in order! Again, Mr. Ulasiuk had a cogent and cohesive interpretation. Poetic renditions of three Mazurkas followed as a musical buffer before the Sonata, No. 5, which was given a performance emphasizing its inherent jolts and extremes.

The Fifth Sonata is viewed as a transitional work between Scriabin’s early period, in which the kinship with Chopin is felt strongly, and the late period, with its wild, mystical explorations. Mr. Ulasiuk’s performance favored the edginess of the latter. One imagines that there must have been some cross-pollination happening during his work on the Ninth Sonata, which on the other hand felt more rooted in tradition and graspable than usual – a refreshing surprise. In any case, both performances were nigh impossible to fault, save for the occasional near-negligible smudge, and both were thought-provoking and compelling.

In summary, it was a brilliant recital by an artist whom one will certainly want to follow. Bravo!

 

 

 

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Fryderyk Chopin Society of Texas presents Konrad Binienda in Review

Fryderyk Chopin Society of Texas presents Konrad Binienda in Review

Winners of the 25th (2017) International Chopin Piano Competition
Konrad Binienda, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. New York, NY
September 17, 2018

 

The Fryderyk Chopin Society of Texas, based in Corpus Christi, serves as a valuable reminder that not all the piano action in that state is at the Cliburn competition in Fort Worth. The September 17th jumbo double-recital was so generous that two reviewers from this publication were assigned, one to each principal pianist. I will write about Konrad Binienda -my colleague Rorianne Schrade will write about Dzmitry Ulasiuk. Plus, there was an “appetizer” of sorts, the young Jan Godek, who, at the outset, played two mazurkas by contemporary Polish composer Wojciech Klar.

Mr. Binienda has the qualities I value in a pianist: a beautiful sound, a thoughtful approach (meaning every note, phrase, and movement are thought through) which also has plenty of room for feeling, original interpretive ideas, good rhythm, a personal, poetic lyrical sense, and what I like to call emotion “in the tone” itself. He is willing to take risks when the emotional heat rises, sometimes resulting in a performance which is (thank goodness!) not note-perfect, but always convincing, and very moving. His rubato, that “secret” of the early romantics, is perfection itself.

Mr. Binienda began with two preludes by the Akron (OH) pianist/composer, Pat Pace (1931-2006). He went to Juilliard on a full scholarship, but gravitated to the world of jazz and big band. His personal life was full of drama and misfortune, but he recovered and lived a long productive life. The two preludes (Improvisations and Samba) were rendered with beautiful tone and sensitivity to the idiom.

Mr. Binienda then followed with Beethoven’s Sonata No. 17 in D Minor, Op. 31, No. 2, nicknamed “Tempest.” This was a romanticist’s Beethoven, not a classicist’s, but full of feeling. It led to my only negative observation about Mr. Binienda’s entire evening: the third movement, Allegretto, was too fast for my taste, leading to a panicked affect. When reined in just a bit, it gains an obsessive quality that can be equally convincing.

Mr. Binienda then played one of his specialties, Chopin’s rarely performed “concerto without orchestra,” the Allegro de Concert, Op. 46, a genre in vogue in the nineteenth century—Schumann and Alkan also contributed mighty examples. After all, logistically for the performer, it is a lot easier to secure just one instrument, the piano, than an entire orchestra. The main challenge is to differentiate between the massed sounds of the parts imitating an orchestra, and the glittery, more conventional solo-piano passages, and then to be able to combine the two. Mr. Binienda rose to these challenges. When necessary, Mr. Binienda gave the illusion of a full orchestra, yet his filigree work in the difficult piano solo sections was full of charm and the requisite fleet virtuosity, always transparent, with great natural breathing. Mr. Binienda has, I believe, written a thesis on orchestrating the work, though I think that would be a shame (it has been attempted by a few others). It’s supposed to be the piano all by itself, although a comment by Schumann and a letter from Chopin to his publisher in 1841 (the year of the Allegro) have led many to think that it might have been the first movement of a projected third piano concerto.

Mr. Binienda followed that with Chopin’s Sonata No. 3 in B Minor, Op. 58, the first movement of which held together very well. It is often tempting to succumb to “local charms” and make it too fussy, but he did not. In fact, I dare say Konrad Binienda speaks the language of Chopin’s music without any foreign accent—what a pleasure to hear. The middle section of the gossamer scherzo was breathtaking in its poignancy. Mr. Binienda has a way with the little “farewell” moments near the end of movements (not even codas really), and the third movement showed that gorgeously. The finale was properly played presto non tanto, as indicated, and gained in majesty and power from it. Cortot used to say contemptuously that that movement was “the parade ground of the virtuoso,” but how proud he would have been of Mr. Binienda, whose combination of technical ability and poetic sensitivity is ideal.

He favored the enthusiastic (actually sold-out) crowd with an “orchestral” reading of Chopin’s famous A-flat Polonaise, Op. 53, which in his hands regained its heroic national feeling (and also had killer octaves!).

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
(le) Poisson Rouge presents Taka Kigawa

(le) Poisson Rouge presents Taka Kigawa

Taka Kigawa, piano
(le) Poisson Rouge, New York, NY
August 27, 2018

 

On August 27, 2018, pianist Taka Kigawa (www.takakigawa.com) presented a program called “Music of Aucoin, Furrer, Yamane, Berio” at (le) Poisson Rouge. It was to prove to be a fascinating experience of encountering music of up-and-coming talents (Aucoin and Yamane), an established leading composer of today (Furrer), and an undisputed master for the ages (Berio).

Poisson Rouge has established itself as one of the leading non-traditional venues for classical music concerts. It is a club, complete with food and drink service, in a setting that one might call “edgy.” The audience members included students, middle-aged folks, and assorted hipsters – a mix one doesn’t always see at “traditional” halls. The idea is to “shake things up,” breaking all the so-called rules of classical concerts. It’s not for everyone, and some might argue that the idea itself misses the point of a concert experience, but I’ll leave that debate for others.

There were brief program notes for each work, as written by their respective composers. This was helpful for the listener to gain insights into the works. To learn more about the composers, one can follow these links: Matthew Aucoin , Beat Furrer, Akiko Yamane.

Mr. Kigawa spoke briefly to express his love for the music he was to play and to inform the audience that all of the works on his program were composed in the 21st century. He might have even billed his concert as music of the 21st century, which would be not only an interesting hook but a way to discourage annoying labels of “modern” and “contemporary.”

Opening with Akiko Yamane’s clever piece, Illuminated Baby, a musical depiction of a baby’s march (imagine a toddler somewhat wobbly but planting each step firmly), Mr. Kigawa showed straight away that he is a dynamic performer. It was a delightful beginning to the evening.

Beat Furrer’s Phasma ended the first half. It’s a twenty-five-minute epic journey (described by the composer as looking out the window on a high-speed train) that taxes the performer to the utmost, particularly in terms of stamina. It included playing inside the instrument and other special effects. Make no mistake, this work is challenging for the listener as well, and those with limited attention spans are forewarned. Mr. Kigawa kept the large audience engaged throughout (even as servers negotiated the tables with food and drink), which in and of itself was indicative of a first-rate talent. He was rewarded with loud cheers at the end, which were well deserved.

Matthew Aucoin’s Three Etudes (rondo which devours itself, currents, and a sounding) opened the second half. These short works were offered with virtuosic flair and probing depth. Of the three, a sounding was my favorite, but all three are effective and engaging pieces.

Luciano Berio’s Sonata ended the concert. This work seems to be anchored around the note B-flat, which is repeated continuously through much of the work (it reminded me a bit of Le Gibet from Gaspard de la nuit). It was yet another twenty-five-minute work that made heavy demands on the player. Conceptually it was more accessible than the Furrer piece, so it was an easier task for the listener, but not for the player! Mr. Kigawa was more than up to the demands and made it all seem easy. Perhaps the audience had been spoiled by his earlier dazzle and did not give him the credit he so richly deserved, much to my chagrin. As an encore, Mr. Kigawa offered the 4th (Erdenklavier) of Berio’s Six Encores.

Taka Kigawa is a pianist who not only has technique to burn but possesses an uncommon intelligence. Special note to all 21st century composers: Taka Kigawa is the pianist you have been looking for.

 

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by Jeffrey Williams  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Song/Play in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Song/Play in Review

Florida Symphony Youth Orchestras; Hanrich Claassen, Symphonic Conductor and Florida Symphony Youth Orchestras Music Director
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Cristian Grases and Francisco J. Núñez, Composers/Conductors
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
June 24, 2018

 

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) continued to celebrate its tenth anniversary with the final concert before autumn: “Song/Play,” a treasure trove of music made by youths of all ages and stages of musical development and education. Their Premiere Project also produced notable two world premieres on this occasion. The presence of over 350 singers in the massed choirs, mostly domestic, but some from as far away as China, Finland, and Ireland, and their families in the audience guaranteed an exciting, supportive atmosphere.

The afternoon began with a ravishing display by the Florida Symphony Youth Orchestras and their uncommonly musical, lyrically sensitive conductor, Hanrich Claassen. All the principal players (in fact, all the players) were first-rate, with burnished, plush strings and confidently played winds. The first work was Reflections on the Hudson by a San Francisco-based composer, Nancy Bloomer Deussen, whose work was previously unknown to me. As with most good program music, it portrays the composer’s inner feelings while contemplating the great river, without slavishly illustrating it in music. Its gauzy meditative quality was beautifully rendered by the group, and the middle “busy” section had some nice imitative counterpoint.

The Symphonic Dances, Op. 64, by Edvard Grieg, based on Norwegian folk melodies, followed. These well-known works had dozens of mature details all fantastically worked out by  Mr. Claassen and his team. They gave a truly “hot” reading of music from a “cold” climate. No. 2, Allegretto grazioso was my personal favorite, but all four were excellent. These students are so lucky to have such guidance at this stage in their lives. The look of ecstatic listening and participation on the face of the first cellist, Maxwell Remmer, was priceless. The rapture that younger players have immediate access to has not been bred out of them by routine. May it never be!

After intermission, two composer/conductors, both of whom I have reviewed previously in these pages: Cristian Grases and Francisco Núñez, each with a world premiere. Mr. Grases was given a really young choir to work with. His work, La Cigarra y La Hormiga, set a fable about a carefree partying cicada and an industrious ant (like Aesop’s ant and grasshopper) in a sort of cantata form, with all movements flowing right into each other. Mr. Grases wisely mixed rhythmic speech with well-crafted homophonic vocals to get the large amount of text covered expeditiously. The work, based on pan-Latin dance influences, could have used more variety at times, and it seemed too long. The clever instrumentation was a little too heavy, sometimes covering the large children’s choir. The message is a good one: the ant is generous with her food when the cicada comes over in the cold of winter. Each learns something from the other: that a satisfying life is neither “all work” nor “all play.” Then it was Mr. Núñez’s turn with a mostly older (high school age) group: a selection of his choral music, also including his premiere: Liminality, a complex four-movement work about an abstract idea, standing on the “threshold” of a new state of being but not quite “in” it yet. The third section, My Shadow, My Soul was gorgeous, with a wonderful soprano soloist from inside the choir. Naturaleza was a hymn to the beauty of the earth. Forever Is My Song imitated an indigenous Philippine musical gong, the kulintang. The day closed with the rousing Es Tu Tiempo, an exhortation to remember to dream and dare, sung by slightly “older” young people to those coming after them. Mr. Núñez’s use of percussion and the orchestra is inventive and satisfying, though he also over-orchestrated just a bit, leading to some balance and understandability issues. The DCINY orchestra was its usual fine self.

“Take a chance to dream.” Good advice indeed.

 

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