New York Concert Artists and Associates presents Pianist Gábor Farkas in Review

New York Concert Artists and Associates presents Pianist Gábor Farkas in Review

New York Concert Artists and Associates presents Pianist Gábor Farkas
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
March 10, 2016

 

NYCAA (New York Concert Artists and Associates), under the direction of Klara Min, has had a record of discovering some highly interesting musicians to present in debut, and Hungarian pianist Gábor Farkas is no exception, though he may have too many credentials already to be considered a “new discovery.” Born in 1981, and having earned an impressive list of appearances and accolades, as well as a doctorate from the Liszt Academy of Music in Budapest, Mr. Farkas is already enjoying an active career – but it may be that the best is yet to come.

His program included Scarlatti (two Sonatas – E Major, K. 531, and A Major, K. 533), Schubert (Impromptu in G-flat Major, D. 899, No. 3), and Schumann (the Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13). After intermission came an all-Liszt group. The bill of fare may not sound remarkable, but the interpretations were distinctive.

From the opening Scarlatti Sonatas, the mark of the pianist’s individuality was apparent in the treatment of texture. Seemingly free from performance practice constraints, some sections were handled with generous harmonic blending (with pedal) juxtaposed with a much drier sound elsewhere. Some say that any Scarlatti played on a modern piano is a transcription of sorts, so rules can be cast aside. Most pianists, though, strive for some consistency of texture, if not actually approximating the sounds of the harpsichord and clavichord. Mr. Farkas seemed unconcerned with any such conventions, bringing out the piano’s wide range of timbres and the compositional uniqueness of each disparate phrase as it appeared to suit him.

Throughout the first half of the program, one couldn’t quite decide whether to embrace this individuality, a rarity in a sea of generic pianists, or to challenge the rather freewheeling approach to architecture, tempo, and other musical considerations. Mr. Farkas’ phrasing was intriguing, particularly in some subito piano surprises and expressive changings of course. His interpretations overall were also always thought-provoking, even when the reasoning behind some of his decisions eluded one. On the other hand, there were some liberties that jolted, some unsettling tempo fluctuations, and some perplexing pedaling at times.

Schubert’s Impromptu in G-flat was compelling, with the appealing vocal qualities one wants in Schubert. Mr. Farkas was not at all afraid to stretch a phrase in poignant ways. With such a well-known piece, it was refreshing to hear it as if for the first time. Now and then the stretching became a tad fussy, but that was hardly a steep price to pay for the overall profusion of ideas and beautiful highlights. There were many inspired moments.

Where the alternate stretching and pushing became detrimental to the music for this listener was in the Schumann Symphonic Etudes, particularly the finale, where a unified march-tempo is the underpinning, despite the sequential episodes that break the fanfare. There is plenty of excitement without pushing the speed each time the march re-ascends – and in fact, rushing undercuts the excitement that mounts to the work’s grand finish. There are many such moments in this well wrought work, where the composer has all the drama “baked in the cake” – needing little help from the performer beyond patience, stamina, and an identification with the inherent drama and lyricism.

Mr. Farkas’ more mercurial approach to Schumann works ideally with that composer’s sets of smaller character pieces such as the Davidsbündlertänze or the Fantasiestücke, which I would be interested to hear him play. He is simply overflowing with his personal brand of interpretive energy – a quality some may find overwhelming or intrusive to the score, but others will find the best reason to go and hear him play.

Works of Franz Liszt filled the second half, two of which were transcriptions based on works by other composers, first the Waltz from Gounod’s Faust and then the Danse Macabre of Saint-Saëns, quite a bravura pairing. Mr. Farkas projected all the requisite drama and virtuosity, showing ample strength and pianism through both. Liszt’s own Ave Maria, S. 182, sensitively handled, gave a breather of sorts before (Liszt’s) Totentanz, the virtuosic closer.

Totentanz, or (“Dance of Death”) a tour de force of octaves and pyrotechnics, is a work one doesn’t see performed every day (thankfully, in this reviewer’s opinion), but it was given a rousing reading. Mr. Farkas’ sense of diabolic drama and color was in full play, alternating wicked impish staccato figures with menacing tritones, blistering octaves, and still more octaves (have I mentioned that there are octaves?). Even as a staunch defender of Liszt against the usual charges of excessive flash, I couldn’t help thinking afterward that there must be works worthier of a fine pianistic talent in his prime, as Mr. Farkas is.

The audience gave a very noisy standing ovation and was rewarded with a mellow rendition of the Schumann-Liszt Widmung as the encore.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Legato Arts presents Lin/Castro-Balbi Duo-20th Anniversary Celebration “From the Old World” in Review

Legato Arts presents Lin/Castro-Balbi Duo-20th Anniversary Celebration “From the Old World” in Review

Legato Arts presents Lin/Castro-Balbi Duo-20th Anniversary Celebration “From the Old World”
Jesús Castro-Balbi, cello; Gloria Lin, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
March 6, 2016

 

A large and appreciative audience came to hear an excellent cello/piano duo recital on a chilly late winter Sunday. Gloria Lin, pianist, and Jesús Castro-Balbi, cellist, are married, and each of them teaches at Texas Christian University. Whether or not being spouses assisted in the perfection of their ensemble, it certainly didn’t detract from it. They have been playing together for twenty years now. The husband graciously gives primacy to his wife in having the first name of the duo.

This was a sort of “reverse” recital, with the second part longer than the first part. In fact the only work prior to intermission, though not “small,” was Chopin’s Cello Sonata in G minor, Op. 65. To my ears, the only miscalculation was the use of the short stick on the piano. I know cellists fear balance issues, but the glorious piano writing had a muffled quality, never truly achieving fortissimo climaxes when needed, or even (gasp!) over-balancing the cello. Yes, in this piece by an avowedly awkward writer of chamber music, but who was the greatest pianist of his time, sometimes the piano actually needs to predominate. Both players spun out the dense late-Chopin textures with purpose and, usually, elegance. Mr. Castro-Balbi’s phrasing was very personal and convincing; he possesses a beautiful vibrato and legato, with ample use of slides. In fact, I wished he had used the legato more, as there were some odd moments of detached playing, where a longer singing line would have suited better. The third movement: Largo, was a gorgeous, meditative gem in their hands.

After intermission, it seems a different, looser, more dynamic duo took the stage. The pair played Martinů’s Cello Sonata No. 2, H. 286. Here, Ms. Lin provided crisp, clear, exciting, and meticulous articulation in the difficult first movement, and throughout. This performance made a somewhat difficult work easily graspable to the many listeners who I’m sure had never heard it before. They achieved tragic grandeur in the slow movement.

Joaquín Nin’s Seguida Española is not often heard, but it should be. It’s charms are based on folk songs and dances, and although some of it seemed derivative of de Falla’s Siete canciones populares españolas, one regretted the brevity not only of each movement, but of the whole. Beautifully done.

The duo concluded with Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s difficult riot of a romp based on the famous aria from Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia: “Largo al factotum.” Although this aria even wound up in a Looney Tunes episode, there was nothing cartoonish about the rendition here. In fact, not only was the technique and ensemble perfect, but the players exhibited an all-too-rare quality in many of today’s music makers: genuine wit.

They favored the enthusiastic audience with an encore from the aforementioned de Falla folk song set: the poignant “Nana,” which had everything, haunting in its spontaneous phrasing by Mr. Castro-Balbi. Here’s to twenty more years at least!

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Between Heaven and Earth in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Between Heaven and Earth in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Between Heaven and Earth
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International
James M. Meaders, DCINY Associate Artistic Director and Conductor, Tom Shelton, Guest Conductor, Richard Sparks, Guest Conductor
Jolaine Kerley, soprano; Timothy J. Anderson, narrator
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
March 7, 2016

The massed-choir events presented by Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) generally have a very high level of music making and popular success. Monday’s concert was quite a mixed-bag, gathered under the title mentioned above. The singers come from eight states and six foreign countries and are prepared by their individual local conductors before traveling to New York to combine with many other choirs.

The first one-third of the evening was devoted to seven selections for a huge youth choir, containing all age groups from small boys up to high schoolers. They were led efficiently by Tom Shelton, who also made some of the rather slick arrangements. The selections were not performed in the order listed on the program, and one was left out entirely. Perhaps I shouldn’t evaluate this performance with the same rigor I would apply to a professional choir. Surprisingly, the enormous group had trouble actually projecting, except when the vocal writing allowed the voices to soar to higher notes, where one could enjoy the characteristic gleam of such an age-group. The repertoire extended from modern sacred, to Baroque, folk-inspired (Stephen Hatfield’s moving Family Tree), even Italian madrigal. The exciting Ritmo by Dan Davison involved not only singing, but clapping, stomping, finger-snaps, chest thumps, and marching in place—a veritable encyclopedia of eurhythmics, accompanied by piano four-hands (the very capable Matthew Webb, assisted by his page turner).

Several instrumental solos were featured: trumpeters Anna Roman and Jesdelson Vasquez; and flutist Tamar Benami, as well as a fearless (uncredited) choir member for the concluding Go Down Moses. The performance certainly brought pleasure to the many parents and friends of the singers in the audience, and it is good to see young people (a) learning music at all, and (b) working together on something instead of the relentless isolating march of the cell phone.

After the infamous “brief pause” to shift huge choirs (only ten minutes this time), conductor Richard Sparks led a new chorus, narrator, and soprano, with a small ensemble of piano, organ, two oboes, two French horns, and a percussion assemblage, in the New York premiere of Toronto-based composer Allan Bevan’s Nou Goth Sonne Under Wode. The composer also played his own organ part. This work takes many of the sentiments in the traditional crucifixion scene Stabat Mater and ramps up the grief until a sort of transfiguration occurs to Mary, who then sings a concluding Alleluia. The choral writing relies too heavily on musical clichés of mourning, aiming for monumentality, but the whole was very sincere. The O Vos Omnes section was particularly successful. The part for narrator was a bit odd, sometimes too soft despite amplification. There were other moments when the chorus, narrator, and soloist were drowned out, despite the small instrumental ensemble size. The valiant soprano was the very good Jolaine Kerley, whose clarity and expression were top-notch. She wisely chose to just stop singing the climactic loud high D-flat (her last note) before it gave out entirely, just keeping her mouth open and letting the choral resonance fool you into thinking she was still singing it. Smart lady, this trick was sometimes employed by the likes of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf.

After intermission, James Meaders, one of DCINY’s associate artistic directors, conducted yet another two-hundred-plus singers and large string orchestra in the Sunrise Mass by the young Norwegian composer Ola Gjeilo. This was by far the most beautiful and intriguing work on the program. He set the traditional Latin texts of the Mass, but gave each section a title having to do with the (usually) natural world: The Spheres (Kyrie), Sunrise (Gloria), The City (Credo), Identity (Sanctus) & The Ground (Agnus Dei). His use of tone clusters and overlapping chords makes the musical language seem more modern than it really is, but very beautiful. In The Spheres, motives that are first heard “smudging” into each other are later presented cleanly as a melody by the choir. The work is also cyclic, that is, themes heard are reused elsewhere in the work, a time-honored technique and one that gives unity. There is perhaps a bit of over-reliance on stock “minimalist” gestures in the string parts. The final chord of the piece, on the word Pacem (peace) was stunning in its hushed quality, held for a very, very appropriate long time.

Perhaps music is what’s “between heaven and earth.”

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Legato Arts presents Sean Botkin in Review

Legato Arts presents Sean Botkin in Review

Legato Arts Presents Sean Botkin, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
February 24, 2016

Beauty and frustration are often lifelong companions of the artist—and also of the reviewer. Thus were my thoughts last evening at the powerful performance given by pianist Sean Botkin. I will confess that when I saw the program, including four mainstream composers, I was afraid it might be unimaginative. However, Mr. Botkin did program two rarities by two of them: Prokofiev’s First Sonata and Rachmaninoff’s First Sonata. The Russians clearly suit his type of pianism, and he has an affinity for them.

Every time I tended to get annoyed by a patch of sound that was too unrelievedly massive or too loud, then something sublime would occur, and I could forgive all. If I had any suggestion to make to this obviously well-equipped pianist, it would be: It is more interesting to “draw the listener in” to your sound world and the music, rather than to “push the music out” to them. This type of over-projection reminds me very much of “old-school” Juilliard thinking.

Mr. Botkin began with the Prokofiev, his Opus 1, written at age sixteen, revised a couple years later, and obviously well-thought of enough that it is included in his complete sonata corpus. Botkin played with controlled passion—there was lovely elasticity in the cadences and where the composer has indicated ritardando. The tone quality was beautiful, never bangy, and his architectural sense made this uncharacteristic work sound better than it actually is, albeit a bit blustery.

Mr. Botkin then followed with one of the great middle-period Beethoven sonatas, the G major, Op. 31 No. 1. It was in the Adagio grazioso middle movement that some of the loveliest playing of the whole evening occurred. He handled the extravagant pre-Rossinian operatic lines and accompaniments with sensitivity and elegance—his trill ability is miraculously even. However, in the first movement, he didn’t seem to emphasize the parodic element: Beethoven was either mocking a string quartet whose first violinist played before everyone else, or a pianist whose hands couldn’t play together, inverting the usual “left-hand before right.” It lacked impish humor. “However” however: he did scrupulously observe every single phrasing and articulation marking, even the ones that are less than convenient for the interpreter. The Rondo finale, was played too fast for a true Allegretto, despite Schindler’s unreliable testimony (as always) that it was to be played Allegro.

The first part of the recital concluded with a headlong performance of Chopin’s Fourth Scherzo, Op. 54 in E major. Here, in the sorrowful middle section, was the other highlight of the evening for me—absolutely gorgeous, intimate, lyrical playing. The outer sections lacked transparency and, for lack of a more politically correct word: “anima.” It was aggressive rather than elegant, and the harmonic shifts were not savored with sufficient sensuality.

After intermission, Mr. Botkin tackled the daunting and huge First Sonata by Rachmaninoff, the one the composer himself said that no one would ever play. Mr. Botkin has recorded it, and his mastery is evident in every passage, as is his clear point of view, again emphasizing power, volume, and big-line architecture over other aspects. Rachmaninoff had originally underscored the music with thoughts of a “program” dealing with the Faust legend: with Faust, Gretchen, and Mephistopheles symbolized in the three movements. It is a sort of concerto or symphony “manqué,” with all the unwieldiness that implies.

Mr. Botkin took a freely improvisatory approach to the beginning, with a sort of giant feeling of “leading-in” instead of a metrical obedience. Certainly this is one viable way to do it, however, one wonders if the basic rhythm of the “Faust motto” would have benefited from more discipline. Also ignored (I’m sure it was intentional, all part of his concept) were numerous dynamics, all on the softer side. Where I was sitting, there wasn’t much played below mezzo-forte, and all the louder passages were “scaled up.” This sort of sound tires the ear after a while, and the piece is long. This is not to say that he didn’t have beautiful lyrical moments, because he did. He was playing so strongly however, that the unisons of the piano’s strings were progressively going out of tune (first noticed in the Chopin, it got a lot worse later). I feared that he wouldn’t have anywhere left to go for the true fff on the final page of the last movement, but by golly he did. The sound impressed a lot of people, but to me it seemed like the distortion when a stereo is turned up too loud.

I predict good things for Mr. Botkin. I certainly don’t wish him to take my detailed listening habits and preferences for anything definitive or negative. But please, do think of varying your sound palate even more. There is incalculable charisma in charming the listener’s ears, and always making people think that you have something in reserve, that you are never at the outer limit of what you can do. And thank you for providing a correct program with program notes. Next time: an encore?

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
MidAmerica Productions presents Pavel Šporcl with New England Symphonic Ensemble in Review

MidAmerica Productions presents Pavel Šporcl with New England Symphonic Ensemble in Review

MidAmerica Productions presents Pavel Šporcl with New England Symphonic Ensemble
Pavel Šporcl, Violin
New England Symphonic Ensemble; Maple Mountain High School Choirs
Giuseppe Lanzetta, David R. Thye, and Cory Mendenhall, conductors
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
February 13, 2016

On what was a marathon of a concert sponsored by MidAmerica Productions, the New England Symphonic Ensemble performed a brisk and polished account (aside from a few horn/wind entrances) of Beethoven’s Fidelio Overture and later gave grand presentations of Vivaldi’s choral work Gloria and John Rutter’s Magnificat. One also witnessed the unique violinist Pavel Šporcl performing two different styles of music.

Pavel Šporcl is a virtuoso of the first order. If you want to hear a violinist facing the utmost challenges of Paganini, he is the one. Mr. Šporcl has tremendous flair and an unbelievably impressive technique. These attributes are ideal for late-Romantic and modern works, along with more contemporary popular styles. According to his biography, he likes to go beyond classical music and work with non-classical artists. His gypsy band projects “Gypsy Way” and “Gypsy Fire” have been seen in many countries in nearly 300 concerts. Mr. Šporcl plays on a blue violin built at his request by Jan Spidlen in 2005.

On this particular occasion, Mr. Šporcl’s main presentation was Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor, Op 64. Most memorable here was the remarkable technique and brilliance he exhibited in the last movement. It seems to me with an orchestra of this chamber size and the possibly little rehearsal time allotted, the well-known Mendelssohn was the practical choice. However, I very much look forward to hearing Mr. Šporcl play virtuosic, cutting-edge concertos by Prokofiev, Stravinsky, and Shostakovich, and with Mr. Šporcl’s Czech heritage in mind, I’m sure he would give an exquisite interpretation of Dvořák’s melancholy and ethnically zesty concerto. His gypsy and pop selections will interest audiences greatly. Mr. Šporcl’s blue violin is indeed a visceral stand-out. It does not possess the warmth of other violins I’ve heard in this hall–and this is a main reason Mendelssohn wouldn’t be my first choice for this artist. In the first two movements, some of his notes lacked a classically pure expression or vibrato, and had a raw sound one associates with 20th century or pop/rock repertoire. When tempos pushed, conductor Giuseppe Lanzetta didn’t always anticipate Mr. Šporcl’s thinking, and the orchestra was behind at times. In the third movement, however, Maestro Lanzetta was prepared for the rapidity of speed, and both soloist and orchestra were unified. The last movement had as fast a tempo as you’ll ever hear, but it was performed with precision nonetheless.

Mendelssohn’s blazing finale perfectly segued to Mr. Šporcl’s encore, the Paganini Caprice No. 5. In addition to the audience, many orchestra members were studying Mr. Šporcl’s performance with awe. Thanks to a few persistent concert-goers, we actually got to hear this Paganini showpiece, as the bulk of the audience–not knowing the traditions of classical concerts–ceased clapping before Mr. Šporcl’s return to the stage. It was with the Paganini that Mr. Šporcl’s strengths worked the best: excellent intonation, a brilliant technique and bow-arm, a colorful sound with wide-ranging variety, and a flashy, tireless energy. It was already recording-ready (hopefully it was recorded–microphones were present). He is a unique artist that should get a lot more visibility on New York’s contemporary arts scene.

 

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by Anthony Aibel  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Mozart Mealor Martin: Music of Joy and Sadness in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Mozart Mealor Martin: Music of Joy and Sadness in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Mozart Mealor Martin: Music of Joy and Sadness
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra and Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Vance Y. George, James Jordan, and Joseph Martin, Conductors
Penelope Shumate, soprano; Krysty Swann, mezzo-soprano; Youngbae Yang, tenor; Jeremy Milner, bass-baritone
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
February 15, 2016

 

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) continued its record of inspirational massed-choral and orchestra concerts, “changing lives through the power of performance,” as their motto states. It is truly a credit to the many individual local choral conductors who prepared these groups that came from all over the US, UK, Austria, and New Zealand, and had but a short time to work out a polished interpretation with all the other choirs, orchestra, and the “real” conductor. It is good to see that these individual conductors are given their own bow(s) after their groups have performed.

The concert was presented in inverse order of its title, hence Martin, Mealor, Mozart. A rather long group of faith- and patriotic-based material, all composed by Joseph Martin (one Irving Berlin arrangement) and conducted by him, opened the program on a suitably upbeat note. If the music wasn’t surprisingly original, it certainly was very pleasing and accessible for community choirs. This particular group of over two hundred had a surprisingly difficult time making itself heard over the full orchestrations, when singing at or below mezzo-forte. When singing by themselves however, the full volume passages were appropriately thrilling, although diction was fuzzy.

Would it be churlish to mention that these mass-choir events require a great deal of stage management, moving one group of two hundred off the risers, moving the next group on, etc. and that this stretches the times of the programs quite a bit? Perhaps this process could be streamlined. And please credit the excellent orchestra by listing its players; they play beautifully. After a very long “brief pause” listed in the program, came the stunning success of the evening: Paul Mealor’s Stabat Mater.

Let me go out on a limb here and state that when I die, if there “is” a heaven, I want it to sound like the music of Paul Mealor. I, like millions across the world, first heard his music in the form of the delicious Ubi caritas that was sung at the 2011 royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. Mr. Mealor has a way of conveying a divine radiance with his harmonies—although firmly anchored in traditional tonality, his way with a “cluster” creates a sort of spiritual “smudge” (he even mentions incense as an aid to worship, a high Anglican tradition) that is incredibly mysterious and moving.

The Stabat Mater, a portrait of the sorrowful mother of Jesus at the foot of the cross, hits all the satisfying points one could wish, and does not remain mired only in the pain of the scene, but progresses to acceptance, hope, and faith. The work is dedicated to Mr. Mealor’s grandparents. The conductor for this work was James Jordan (disclaimer: an alumnus of one of my alma maters: Westminster Choir College). We also share many of the same mentors in choral conducting. Of course credentials are worthless unless put into practice, and wow, were they ever put into practice. His choir sang with an infinite variety of color and dynamic contrasts, razor sharp diction despite the size of the group, and great emotion. The soprano soloist, the excellent Penelope Shumate (doing double duty in the Mozart Requiem) soared above the choir with her descant, which seemed the embodiment of light. The audience, after a transcendent and respectful silence at the end, erupted into a well-deserved standing ovation. The ensemble remained on stage for the World Premiere of a short, boisterous work Jubilate Deo, also by Mr. Mealor.

After intermission, the Mozart Requiem was conducted by Vance George, with yet another choral assembly of about two hundred. Here, the size of the choir was truly a liability. George took some quite brisk tempi that are utterly justified in light of historically-informed performance practice, but that a large choir would have trouble rendering distinctly. Again, the orchestra seemed louder than the choir, quite an accomplishment. There were numerous discrepancies of ensemble, and one false start, discreetly and rapidly remedied. The four soloists did not benefit from being separated: the two men stage left, the ladies stage right. This creates an automatic deficit in the feeling for cooperation. Ms. Shumate was joined by a fabulous mezzo-soprano, new to me, Krysty Swann, whose plumy tone was natural, never forced, and whose musicality was beautiful. The men fared somewhat less well: tenor Youngbae Yang certainly sang all the notes without strain, but without obvious emotional connection; and the bass-baritone Jeremy Milner made a stereotypically wooly, dark sound, and was out of tune in his “big” moment, the first phrase of the Tuba mirum (miraculous trumpet), which was fully a half-step too high by the end, while the trombone which symbolizes this summoning miracle messed up the arpeggios underneath the singer.

I don’t wish to carp, perhaps it was an off night for Mr. Milner, or for the choir, it is hard to wait backstage through a long concert—it certainly didn’t deter the enthusiasm of the many friends and family members of these dedicated singers who were present in the audience. After all, the motto of one of the Martin pieces “E pluribus unum” (out of many, one) could be taken as the way these singers and choirs come together as well. Truly inspiring.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Composers Now Festival and CUNY Diversity Projects Development Fund present “Eastern Currents” with Ensemble 365 in Review

Composers Now Festival and CUNY Diversity Projects Development Fund present “Eastern Currents” with Ensemble 365 in Review

 Composers Now Festival and CUNY Diversity Projects Development Fund
present “Eastern Currents” with Ensemble 365
Sara Paar, soprano; Karen Rostron, violin; Alice Jones, flute; Marta Bedkowska-Reilly, cello; Mirna Lekić, piano
Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY
February 13, 2016

A hardy band of two dozen or so listeners braved the coldest night in one hundred years to attend a well-played program of non-standard music from the “Asian and Arab” worlds. The players in Ensemble 365 met while graduate students at CUNY in 2011, and their unity shows. Each is a very good individual artist, and they combine excellently as well.

Two works by a female composer from Azerbaijan, Franghiz Ali-Zadeh, were presented: Three Watercolors (1987) for voice and ensemble (including prepared piano). Only three of the movements contained the voice, the others were Prelude, Interlude, and Postlude for piano. The excellent soprano Sara Paar was sensitive to every expression in the text, by female Azerbaijani poet Nigyar Rafibeili. Ms. Ali-Zadeh’s second work was heard after intermission: the Music for Piano, with a glass-bead necklace placed over some of the strings, to give the impression of a folk-instrument (mugam). Mirna Lekic’s piano sound was beautiful, even when she played in the register with the necklace, and her rhythmic acuity gave subtle energy to every gesture. I’m sure many members of the audience, sitting in the chilly space of the Tenri Cultural Institute, could identify with the lines: “My soul is like the earth,/Awaiting the radiant springtime . . .”

Duo for flute and cello (2012) by Karim Al-Zand (Tunisian, but raised in Ottawa, Canada) consisted of three short movements, with the cello deliberately “mistuned” (scordatura) in the first section Musette, to mimic a drone instrument. The finale, Snapdragon, had great drive and an exciting conclusion.

In many ways, the conventionality of Arno Babadjanian (Armenian, influenced by Rachmaninoff/Khatchaturian) provided the weakest music of the night. The Larghetto of his Piano Trio in F Sharp Minor (1952) was pretty and lyrical, but it meandered, and did not seem to have the same expressive urgency that the other composers exhibited. Perhaps it would have benefited from being heard in context, between the other two movements of the complete trio.

The evening concluded with two sets of songs, again with the pure-voiced Ms. Paar, accompanied by Ms. Lekić and (in the second set) piano trio, by Ramin Heydarbeygi, who was present, and provided verbal program notes to his own music. The first set Astvihad was commissioned by Ensemble 365 in 2012. The six poems, in modern Persian (Gathic or old Avestan) all deal with death (the demon of death as conceived in the Iranian/Zoroastrian tradition), yet they were not wallowing in somber music, but rather had a sort of contained fury, appropriate to the subject.

The second set of songs Aramesh (2015) dealt with the theme of exile, and the poet of the third song Ruminations of a Tree, Dayani, was also present at the concert. The exile theme remains relevant in an age that sees massive displacement from the Middle East (Syria). How pleased both poet and musician must have been. Ensemble 365 has commissioned over 150 works, and they provide valuable and persuasive advocacy for music which would certainly otherwise languish. Bravi.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
DVD in Review: Pianist Gustavo Díaz-Jerez plays Iberia, by Isaac Albéniz

DVD in Review: Pianist Gustavo Díaz-Jerez plays Iberia, by Isaac Albéniz

DVD: Isaac Albéniz Iberia, Pianist: Gustavo Díaz-Jerez
Label: ORPHEUS (2015) Region Code: 0 (Worldwide); TV format: PAL
Running Time: 88 minutes

 

Attention, those interested in “firsts” in the piano world: for the very first time, a full high definition video of Iberia is now available, and it is quite beautifully played by pianist Gustavo Díaz-Jerez ( www.gustavodiazjerez.com).

For those unfamiliar with Iberia, by Spanish composer Isaac Albéniz (1860-1909), it is one of the masterpieces of the piano literature, a set of twelve pieces devoted to the sounds and impressions of the composer’s native Spain, with the emphasis on Andalusia. Though of strong local flavor, the set was loved and admired by Debussy, Messiaen, Fauré, and countless other great musicians and is now admired worldwide as a creation of universal expressiveness.

Composed from 1905 through 1909, each book was given its separate premiere by French pianist Blanche Selva (1906, 1907, 1908, and 1909) and almost each piece has sunk roots singly into the piano repertoire over time. The set is still seldom heard in live recital in its entirety of twelve movements, possibly due to length (around 90 minutes), difficulty (large orchestral textures with awkward hand distribution), and pacing (a challenge to sustain, with prolonged meditative parts and nuanced pianissimo levels down to ppppp). Many musicians cite the history as reason – that Albéniz did not envision the twelve played at a stretch and that the pieces are not meant as a marathon but better played separately.

From the 1960’s through the 1980’s, pianistic legend, Alicia de Larrocha, gave life to the entire opus in repeated recordings and performances of the set. There followed various other excellent interpretations of the set on compact disc. Videos, though, were a different story. Of de Larrocha, one can find only some of her CBS studio videotapes, and they are of poor sound quality (some even with commentary heard over the playing). Of complete live readings, there have been concerts by outstanding virtuosi such as Marc-André Hamelin, with some selections from these viewable on the Internet, but one needs to flip from link to link to hear several in a row (akin to listening to the old 78-RPM recordings). For the first full video of the complete Iberia, one had to wait for Gustavo Díaz-Jerez, whose performance, recorded in 2015, is now available on DVD (www.iberiadvd.com).

One uses the word “performance” because Mr. Díaz-Jerez does give what appears to be an unbroken recital, despite its having involved four days of recording (July 20-24, 2015). The atmosphere also approaches that of a concert despite the fact that there is no apparent audience in the beautiful hall of Paraninfo de la Universidad de Las Palmas de Gran Canaria (the Canary Islands). The DVD opens with a dignified Mr. Díaz-Jerez, clad in black, walking with resolve towards an imposing Steinway D piano, his footsteps resonating on the large empty stage. It is seemingly a solitary event, but there is such formality and intensity in his demeanor that the occasional shift of camera focus to a hall of empty seats does not detract, but rather seems to suggest listeners past or future. There is a certain poetry in that.

From the first notes of Evocación, a feeling of spaciousness pervades, and it is clear from each expressive inflection that Mr. Díaz-Jerez is a sensitive artist with considerable dedication to this music. He soulfully projects the composer’s most heartrending melodies and lavishes each poignant turn of phrase with affection, somehow without seeming excessively self-indulgent – quite an artful balance! El Puerto follows Evocación with spirit, zest, and a perfect nostalgic lingering towards its close. Mr. Díaz-Jerez has a broad array of articulations at his disposal, and undoubtedly students will enjoy watching close-ups of his hands here and elsewhere – possibly even gaining some insight on distribution of hands in the score’s various tangles. El Corpus Christi En Sevilla brings the opening group to brilliant peaks before its quiet close, rounding out a highly successful Book I.

Book II is equally moving with an intoxicatingly sunny Rondeña and a dreamy Almeria. Mr. Díaz-Jerez has a special knack for transparent voicing in which a melody simply glows from amid other voices without badgering the listener or oversimplifying the texture. The famously challenging Triana ( Click here to view)closes this book well, expansive without being overtly showy. Here is one of the pieces that might benefit most from the synergy of a live audience, but its polish is admirable. The eternal discussion of live versus recorded is not for the current review.

A listener might want to give himself an “Intermission” at this juncture, because a saturation point can be reached. By the end of Book II, one can become so spoiled by the surfeit of sultry harmonies, nostalgic melodies, and florid ornaments, that they lose their distinctiveness. El Albaicín, El Polo, Lavapiés, Málaga, Jerez, and Eritaña all have uniquely beautiful qualities, but they do need some space after the first two books for their uniqueness to emerge. Hopefully, the listeners (viewers) will exercise some judgment in the pacing.

In summary, all the performances are excellent. Though one may have one’s favorite performances by other artists for isolated pieces, this full set makes for a fine reference collection and should be of interest for pianists negotiating the hand-overlappings and leaps for the first time. There are many close-ups. The technique in every piece is solid, there is nothing offensive, and there is much that is exemplary.

While one feels a bit incomplete not hearing the rush of applause upon the last notes of Eritaña, the silence underscores the dream element so present throughout the video. In fact, that aspect is so pervasive that one might simply decide to ignore each shot of hands and face and keyboard, and drift away. This would bring one full circle to the respective raisons d’être of DVD versus CD, visual versus aural, or in combination. As Debussy wrote of this set: “One closes one’s eyes and is bedazzled by the sheer wealth of invention in this music!” What Debussy said is true. Here, though, the listener has a choice.

 

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Violinist Daniel Röhn in Review

Violinist Daniel Röhn in Review

Daniel Röhn in Recital: The Kreisler Story
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, N.Y.
February 2, 2016

 

 

It is a rare recital that leaves one wanting to hear it all again the next day, but it is not an exaggeration to say that I wanted exactly that after hearing the recent New York recital of German violinist Daniel Röhn. In collaboration with pianist Rohan de Silva and in birthday tribute to the great Austrian composer-violinist Fritz Kreisler, Mr. Röhn combined technical wizardry, melting musicality, old-world style and panache, and a fair amount of historic edification in his comments, all woven seamlessly together into an utterly perfect evening.

Lest it appear that I have some bias towards this frothy fare, that is not the case, for many of these works I’ve heard quite often (or played as collaborator) without their holding nearly so much attraction; what was so captivating was Daniel Röhn’s easy and elegant mastery, always with beauty of sound, purity of intonation, and elasticity of phrase. It was a wonder to behold and reaffirmed the grandeur of the “Golden Age of the Violin” of the 1920’s and 1930’s.

Daniel Röhnm accompanied by pianist Rohan De Silva at Weill Recital Hall, 2/2/16. Photo by Chris Lee

Daniel Röhnm accompanied by pianist Rohan De Silva at Weill Recital Hall, 2/2/16. Photo by Chris Lee

 

Boldly and with a regal pacing Mr. Röhn opened with Kreisler’s oft-played Praeludium and Allegro, an assertive beginning. He followed it with the equally beloved Bach-Kreisler Gavotte from the E Major Partita BWV 1006, played with polish and sensitivity. Some offhand remarks put an awestruck audience at ease to enjoy the lyrical Paganini-Kreisler Caprice No. 20.

Many performers conquer these tricky works, but the labor announces itself – not so with Mr. Röhn, whose technical ease affords him a graciousness and charm so vital to this repertoire. His fluency suggest that music is his first language, and that may have been the case, for as his biographical notes tell us, he is son and grandson to two noted concertmasters. One finds, with a bit of poking around, that his grandfather, Erich Röhn, played with the Berlin Philharmonic under Fürtwangler, and his father, Andreas Röhn, with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. One also learns that his musical pedigree is distinguished on his pianist mother’s side, but perhaps that didn’t make as marketable a tale as the lineage of three dashing dons of the violin – and dashing this grandson is, with the tie, tails, and stage presence of a matinee idol. One expected him to dance off the stage like Astaire, which he pretty nearly did at the end of the first half, while concluding Sarasate’s Zapateado Op. 23, No. 2 (which he had likened to a Spanish relative of Riverdance – so make that Flatley, rather than Astaire).

Before this exuberant first finale came several other works. Claude Debussy’s Sonata for Violin and Piano added some heft to the program (despite its brevity). Mr. Röhn spoke eloquently about its wartime history and also the imagery one can sense in the work, though leaving such reactions open to the listeners’ imaginations. He shared as examples that “in rehearsal today we found hobbling dwarfs” and at another point vampires – inviting the uninitiated listener to dream through the piece’s darker moments. His playing matched his words in color and drama. If every performer communicated as well, as part virtuoso and part inspired educator, more concert halls would be packed – and his certainly was.

Following Debussy was the Prokofiev-Heifetz March from The Love of Three Oranges – a glimpse into the world of another titan of the violin, Jascha Heifetz. Incidentally, Heifetz’s birthday was also February 2 along with Kreisler’s, something parents of children born on this day might contemplate when choosing an instrument! The playing was once again riveting.

William Kroll’s popular Banjo and Fiddle and Josef Suk’s sentimental Song of Love Op. 7, No. 1, rounded out the smorgasbord before the show-stopping Zapateado. Throughout the program Rohan de Silva was a superb collaborator. Understandably sought after by many of the greatest violinists in the world today, Mr. de Silva plays with the kind of flexible support and hair-trigger responsiveness that it seems no cues are needed beyond sheer musical telepathy.

More works associated with Kreisler followed in the second half, including Jean-Marie Leclair’s Sonata No. 3 in D Major. Here was the only work that seemed to show a bit of flagging in energy, but the impression was short-lived. The ridiculously demanding Wieniawski-Kreisler Caprices in A Minor and E-flat Major followed with perfect brilliance. Equally engaging was the commentary describing the overtaxed students of Wieniawski, the great Polish violin master, as he piled challenge on top of challenge.

The Hungarian Dance No. 7 by Johannes Brahms added further to the playfulness, setting the scene for some humorous introductory remarks about Kreisler’s own mischievous streak. He had for several decades passed his own compositions off as penned by other composers (often 17th or 18th century ones), as it was not seemly for a performer to play an entire evening of his own works. Kreisler was in fact quite creative about it and his harmless trickery makes for fun retelling. Two of such falsely attributed works, the Tempo di Minuetto and Grave in the style of W. F. Bach, were played next, but emerged as such gems that one could almost approve of the hoax that enabled the composer to share them.

To cap off the evening was another rousing dance from Spain, Kreisler’s version of Manuel De Falla’s Danza espagnola from La vida breve. It was a dazzling finale, sending audience members to their feet. They were treated, after several curtain calls, to an encore of the very delicate “Zephyr” Op. 30, No. 5, by Jenő Hubay. Just as I was wondering how one follows an evening of so many “encores” with an encore, Mr. Röhn expressed basically the same sentiment from the stage. Meanwhile my wish for an encore of the whole evening promises to be fulfilled, as a recording of it all will be released in the summer of 2016 (unsure as to whether that is CD or DVD – hopefully the latter). Hopes are high!

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Yale School of Music presents Chang Pan, cello and Ronaldo Rolim, piano, in Review

Yale School of Music presents Chang Pan, cello and Ronaldo Rolim, piano, in Review

Yale School of Music presents Chang Pan, cello and Ronaldo Rolim, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
February 3, 2016

A day of soaking rain in New York could not dampen the ardor of either performers or audience at this very fine recital by an extraordinary artist of the cello and his excellent collaborative pianist. The program consisted of de Falla’s Suite popular Española, the Franck Violin Sonata in A major, and two works by Grieg, the Intermezzo for Cello and Piano in A minor, and the Cello Sonata in A minor, Op. 36.

The principal virtue of Chang Pan’s playing is his extreme absorption in the music; he has a rapt, intense look, as one who is communing directly with the mysterious source “out there” that sustains and inspires true artists—and he possesses the technical ease to bring that inspiration into his instrument and project it to the listener. His bow arm, intonation, and the variety of colors he obtains from the cello are all sublime. He was beautifully partnered by Ronaldo Rolim, who managed every texture, no matter how thick or difficult, with consummate elegance.

The program itself, however, was uneven, with the first half devoted to transcriptions. Yes, I consider the Franck Sonata a transcription, even though the composer himself did somewhat grudgingly accept the transformation for cello which was made in his lifetime, saying it “does not kill the piece.” With so much original cello/piano repertoire, why not program something less often heard? I was very much looking forward to the “Festival Tianshan” which was originally billed, but that was substituted by a Grieg Intermezzo.

Three of the four pieces were in either A major or A minor, and I think artists should carefully consider the way pieces lead into and away from each other, and not fatigue the ear with too much of the same key. Okay, most of the “grumpy old man” portion of the review is out of the way.

The program began well, with six of the seven Canciones populares Españolas of Manuel de Falla, originally for voice and piano. Chang Pan immediately erased any concern about the missing words by playing each with vivid coloration and great spirit. He really made you hear the little allusion to female virginity in the first canción: “the fine cloth in the window won’t sell for much if it gets a spot on it.” Then followed the Franck Sonata, with all its overheated, incense-laden rhetoric and exaltation. I’ve often found in the past that with the necessary octave transpositions in the cello part compared to the violin original that the music doesn’t “speak” where it is intended to, and that with those same transpositions the cello line is buried more in the middle of the piano textures instead of floating over them. I had no reason for concern however, since this duo solved each and every issue forcefully. The daunting piano part was utterly transparent, not a balance problem in sight. The slow movements were notable for their elasticity and aura of spiritual communion. Each phrase and each harmonic contortion was planned meticulously and felt deeply, transitions were also excellent. I did feel that the second movement was too fast, losing some distinction in the rush. But after all, if you can’t be youthfully impetuous when you’re a youth, then when can you be?

After intermission, the pair played an unusual Intermezzo by Grieg, melancholy and lyrical, using it as a sort of slow introduction to the sonata that followed. This sonata should really be given a nickname: “Grieg’s Grab Bag,” for it plunders from his other output shamelessly, with gestures adopted wholesale from the Norwegian folksongs and dances, the lyric pieces, and “that” concerto, coincidentally also in A minor. Even the fantastic skills of these two artists could not disguise what a meretricious assemblage this “sonata” is. It grew tiresome. (Sorry, gentlemen.)

After enthusiastic, well-deserved applause, the duo played a sweet “Chinese Melody” as an encore.

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