Charles Neidich, clarinet; Ayako Oshima, clarinet

Michael Lowenstern, bass clarinet; Mohamed Shams, piano

Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY

March 1, 2024

The Tenri Cultural Institute was packed this Friday as the WA Concert Series presented a “re-debut” program entitled “The World of the Expanded Clarinet” led by WA co-founders Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima. It reminded us of how much we’ve been missing since March of 2020, when the onslaught of COVID-19 forced their hiatus (apart from some virtual offerings). I am happy to report that they are back and better than ever!

WA concerts have always been known for their fascinating, sometimes eclectic, programs, performed by dazzling musicians, with clarinetists Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima (Mr. Neidich’s wife and partner) at the helm. Your reviewer (along with most of the music world) has admired the virtuoso playing of Charles Neidich for over four decades now (his biography being too crammed with honors and distinctions to relay but found here: Charles Neidich), and the brilliant Ayako Oshima has established herself as a formidable force in her own right – but Friday’s “dream team” was made still stronger with the inclusion of rock-solid pianist Mohamed Shams and ingenious bass clarinetist Michael Lowenstern.

The program incorporated old and new, including well-known nineteenth-century music by César Franck and Ernest Chausson and twentieth-century works of Nadia Boulanger (1887-1979), Yayoi Kitazume (b. 1945), and Edison Denisov (1929-1996), plus compositions by Mr. Lowenstern (b. 1968) and Mr. Neidich (b. 1953).

The evening started with Trois Pièces by Nadia Boulanger, a set originally composed for organ in 1911, arranged by the composer in 1914 for cello and piano, and transcribed for clarinet “last week” by Mr. Neidich, as he announced much to the amusement of the audience. The opening Moderato was a perfect welcome to the concert, with its dreamy clarinet lines floating over quasi-impressionistic piano accompaniment. The second piece, Sans vitesse et à l’aise,brought to mind the restrained sorrow of some of Ravel’s more solemn works and was delivered with eloquence. In both of these pieces, the clarinet handled the original cello lines with equivalent or heightened lyricism, sacrificing nothing, while in the third and final piece, Vite et nerveusement rythmé, the clarinet seemed actually to add a spiky precision to the work’s frenetic energy. Bravo to this wonderful addition to the clarinet transcription literature!

Ayako Oshima took the stage next to perform the U.S. premiere of a 2017 work by Yayoi Kitazume with its title translated from the Japanese as “Teetering Balance” and based on the Paul Klee painting of a similar title, usually referred to as “Unstable Equilibrium” (1922, watercolor over pencil). Until Ms. Oshima pointed it out, this listener was unaware that there were program notes (accessible by a QR code in the printed program), including a reprint of the Paul Klee artwork, so not having been able to envision the artwork before hearing it made listening an even more interesting experiment. There was only the music as a guide in what seemed a fascinating exploration of musical space. Upon later reading in Ms. Kitazume’s notes that she “wanted to construct a three-dimensional piece of music that blended time frames and directions of consciousness” the work and performance seemed in retrospect even more remarkably on target. Ms. Oshima painted with her clarinet a picture so vivid that most visual artists would be envious. It was a highlight of the concert.

Another highlight of the program was the performance by Mr. Neidich of the Sonata for solo clarinet (1972) by the important Russian avant-garde composer Edison Denisov, whose brilliance transcended Soviet beleaguering and blacklisting. We know from Mr. Neidich’s introduction that he personally knew Denisov from his own time in Moscow and that Denisov considered Mr. Neidich’s 1975 performance of the piece to be its premiere (in terms of authority if not chronology), and one could see why. The work is, among other things, a tour de force for the instrument, exploiting microtones, the haunting bending of pitches, flutter tongue techniques, fiendish leaps of register, and constant metric changes – and Mr. Neidich is clearly still a master of it all nearly fifty years later. Part of his power is that he projects the character and direction of each phrase as if playing it for the first time – never any “phoning in” – and even a lay person, who might be unaccustomed to navigating such challenging music, could grasp it. Particularly striking was the second and final movement, Allegro giusto, in which a quietly obsessive B-flat (concert pitch A-flat) asserts its presence persistently amid surrounding histrionics (suggesting the disproportionate havoc caused by something tiny, say, a mouse). To hear these disjunct roles achieved by a single player is amazing, and the way Mr. Neidich concluded the work with that final idée fixe note after a long rest made it hard not to gasp in reaction (whether or not an audience member could distinguish any pitch from a hole in the ground). That is communication through music, and that is what one has come to expect from WA concerts.

It is always interesting to hear a performer play his own music, and this evening’s inclusion of Why? (2020) by Charles Neidich (the in-person world premiere) was no exception. It offered the opportunity to hear the Neidich-Oshima clarinet duo in what was Mr. Neidich’s musical response to the “tragedy, misfortune, and injustice” (according to his notes) that loomed in the early stages of the pandemic but with “even more urgency in 2024.” The question “Why?” refers to “why people do not take the necessary step of joining together to protect humanity and the world we live in.” The duo made their statement with music of individual searching, incidental dissonance, and clashing parallel pursuits that never quite meet or settle.

The first half concluded with the balm of a more familiar style via the Andante et Allegro (1881) of Ernest Chausson. It was given a winning performance by Mr. Neidich with Mohamed Shams, whose collaborative skills rendered his considerable pianism almost parenthetical.

Every concert has its takeaway “discovery” – and, in this instance, that discovery greeted us after intermission. Billed on the program only as “Surprise” to be played by Michael Lowenstern, it turned out to be Mr. Lowenstern’s performance of his own bass clarinet version of Summertime from Gershwin’s opera, Porgy and Bess, based on an improvisation Mr. Lowenstern first recorded in 1994. It seems hard to believe that back when this reviewer was a doctoral student frequenting “record stores” (remember those?), she had never come across Mr. Lowenstern’s awe-inspiring performance; in retrospect, however, she just might have heard it in passing but assumed it was some kind of unusual jazz ensemble. You see, what Mr. Lowenstern does here is to become a one-man band. If one closes one’s eyes, one hears not just the clarinet singing out the famous melody, but the gradual entry of a percussion section through the equivalent of clarinet beat-boxing, miraculously the faint pizzicato of a double bass interwoven here and there, and myriad other wind evocations – all held together with a beat sometimes heard but sometimes simply felt. To hear it is a delight – but to see it is mind-boggling. It was a miraculous performance.

Mr. Neidich reemerged from backstage with evident pride in a musician he smilingly called “my progeny” and was then joined by Mr. Shams for the Sonata for violin and piano in A Major (1886) of César Franck, transcribed for clarinet by Mr. Neidich, himself. It was an unforgettable feat, especially after so much other music-making. Mr. Neidich’s playing, with tremendous support from Mr. Shams, made a great case for the clarinet’s ability to do just about anything. That being said (and with apologies), this listener is a diehard fan of the piece in its violin (and even cello) versions, still preferring the string timbres and still preferring the way the phrases seem somehow born to be bowed. It need not be an either-or proposition, though, as pianists know very well (as they plunder the entire orchestral repertoire) – so it is chiefly a personal preference. Such objects of “transcription desire” are like Mt. Everest – we have to climb it because it is there. This Franck transcription undoubtedly expands the repertoire for the clarinetists out there who can handle it, as has been done for the flute and any number of other instruments. After all, Franck “asked for it” by composing such a gorgeous piece of music. The resulting standing ovation was well deserved, and an encore of Autumn Song (October) followed, from Tchaikovsky’s The Seasons, in a touching clarinet-piano arrangement.

Unbelievably, the musical feast was followed by a gourmet feast – the creation of Ayako Oshima. Long may the WA concerts brighten the cultural scene in New York City!

Mira Armij Gill, pianist; Francisco Salazar, violin

Weill Recital Hall, Carnegie Hall, New York

Sunday February 25, 2024

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall was packed this Sunday with an audience eager to hear pianist Mira Armij Gill play a program of Samuel Barber – and they were amply rewarded. The concert was billed as “In Memory of John Browning” (1933-2003). Mr. Browning was of course (among other distinctions) an outstanding champion of Barber’s music, and he was also one of Ms. Gill’s teachers at the Juilliard School, where she received her bachelor’s and master’s degrees. For those unable to attend Sunday’s performance – or for those who want to hear the music again – a CD of her playing this same repertoire has been released just this month on the Centaur label, now available for purchase from major streaming and retail sites. Autographed CDs are also available for purchase at her website via the following link: CD).

For a (mostly) single-composer program, this concert was artfully varied. It helped that, in addition to playing Barber’s Sonata Op. 26 (1949), Excursions Op. 20 (1944-48), Ballade Op. 46 (1977), and Nocturne Op. 33 (1959), Ms. Gill was joined by her husband, violinist Francisco Salazar, in Barber’s Canzone Op. 38a (1962), the essence of which many would recognize from the slow movement of Barber’s Piano Concerto Op. 38  (in one of its incarnations from 1962 – the Elegy  for flute and piano of 1959 being another). This change in instrumental timbres brought welcome refreshment to the program – and the duo played it beautifully together.

As soloist, Mira Gill clearly demonstrated that she has earned the many laurels that appear in her biography. She is gifted with both technical facility and interpretive imagination. The first piece, Barber’s Nocturne, opened with a warm, lovely sound. Though it had some of the unease that can beset recital openings, it progressed quickly to more involved music-making, with some moments that were truly inspired. The trill towards the end, which Barber marks with the rather unusual instruction trattenuto,was absolutely transporting.

Next came a moving rendition of Barber’s achingly beautiful Canzone by Ms. Gill with her husband Francisco Salazar. Though this reviewer prefers the tonal purity of the flute instrumentation of the original Elegy, the duo made the piece their own, with some generous slides and a ravishing final note from Mr. Salazar.

The Excursions were a great choice to follow, brimming with Americana to finish off the first half. Moments of these gems seemed again a bit less than settled, but certainly such moments would not exist on the newly released CD. If one were to guess, the issue could have been the shift between collaborative and solo playing, the adjustment from tablet for chamber score-reading back to rack-less piano for the solo works – or simply the stress of many friends needing to find a seat in the hall, as they seemed to stream in for much of the rather brief (twenty-eight-minute) first half. In any case, the rhythms were not quite as steady or motoric as one wants in the first piece, and there were momentary glitches here and there in the others. The third Excursion, though – the musical heart of the set – was played to a tee. This listener is quite fussy about that third Excursion, but Ms. Gill could give a masterclass on it, right down to the perfect final voicing and pedal change. The audience seemed to agree and could not restrain their applause.

The second half opened with the only non-Barber work, the Romance for violin and piano by Reinhold Glière, played in moving tribute to the memory of the recently departed sound engineer and producer, Joe Patrych. For all of us who miss Joe and his ubiquitous presence in the New York music world, it was hard to hold back tears.

On the subject of musicians we’ve lost, this listener could only wonder throughout the concert what insights about Barber may have emerged from Ms. Gill’s lessons with John Browning. There were moments in Ms. Gill’s Barber interpretations that sounded unlike any others that this listener has heard, and presumably some of those may be attributable to studies with Mr. Browning.  One of the aspects of Ms. Gill’s playing that stood out was her penchant for demarcating phrases with longer than usual breaths. There was never the sense one hears from many players today of a metronome hiding in the wings. Then again, while a flexible, human sense of rhythm is important and dear to this reviewer’s heart, there were also moments in the concert when long breaths of demarcation struck this listener as possibly excessive. In the Ballade which came next for instance, though Barber does mark a comma sign in the opening phrases and in the return later, a lot of extra stretching threatens to turn 6/8 time into 7/8 time. Curiously, right before the allargando (in both beginning and return), the reverse happened, with rhythms feeling rather compressed. Such moments were thought-provoking, as they seemed fully the pianist’s intention, though they did surprise a listener accustomed to straighter renditions.

Barber’s greatest solo piano work, his Sonata Op. 26 (1949), is a powerful way to end a program, and Ms. Gill’s audience was not disappointed. There is a distinguished history of great performances of this piece, and the pianists topping the list include (among others) Vladimir Horowitz, John Browning, and Naumburg Award winner Howard Aibel (who happens to be the Founder and President of New York Concert Review, but whose stunning performance requires special mention here regardless); there is always room, naturally, for many more recordings of such masterpieces. Based on glimmers from Sunday’s performance, Ms. Gill’s interpretation seems destined to bring new angles and new touches of poetry to the mix. Her Adagio movement captured well the mournfulness of its mesto marking, and her finale had just the right ferocity in the coda. One looks forward very much to hearing it on disc, and if the recording projects the music’s power as well as she did in the heat of the moment – with no editing capabilities and many distractions – it promises to be a solid addition to the Barber discography. Brava!

A grateful audience gave a final standing ovation and was rewarded with an encore of Piazzolla’s Libertango, with Mr. Salazar joining again on violin. One looks forward to hearing Ms. Gill – and Mr. Salazar – again.

Distinguished Concert Singers International; Tucker Biddlecombe, guest conductor

Downtown Voices; guest conductor, Stephen Sands

Elizabeth Bates, soprano

Gabe Terraciano, fiddle; Jacob Joliff, mandolin; Charles Butler, banjo; Jerry Kimbrough, guitar; Mimi Jones, bass

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

Sunday February 18, 2024

A large and enthusiastic crowd was present at Carnegie Hall this Sunday for yet another impressive program by Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) entitled “Bluegrass Mass” – named for just one of several powerful works they presented. DCINY has developed the knack for streamlining their massive undertakings, with seamless exits and entrances by hundreds of singers (and no intermission), so this concert, which lasted just one hour and contained just four works (three shorter, followed by the longer Bluegrass Mass) still felt jam-packed with enough music to ponder for a lifetime.

The program opened with three works sung by New York City’s very own chorus, Downtown Voices (a group of sixty-plus singers from a quick count), which combines voices from the Choir of Trinity Church Wall Street along with high-level volunteers. Downtown Voices sang three works, starting with a movement from Akathist by rising star Benedict Sheehan, moving on to Arnold Schoenberg’s Friede auf Erden (Peace on Earth) Op. 13, and closing their selections with Rachmaninoff’s sublime and moving “Bogorioditse Devo” from the All-Night Vigil Op. 37.

If this reviewer were primarily a choral musician, the composer Benedict Sheehan would surely have been a familiar name before this concert, as he is a two-time Grammy nominee and prizewinner whose proponents have recently included the stellar group Voces8; as an introduction, however, his uplifting composition spoke for itself. The Downtown Voices’ rendition of “In the Wondrous Blending of Sounds” the central movement from his larger work, Akathist, was simply breathtaking. Based on what Mr. Sheehan refers to as a “gently ornamented melody inspired by South African folk music” it was a perfect start to a program filled with references to peace and prayer amidst an often opposing reality. The choir projected its luminous harmonies with polish, thanks to the expert conducting of Maestro Stephen Sands, who led them from the movement’s faint beginnings into its full bloom. Soloist Elizabeth Bates contributed her pure senza vibrato soprano in one section, which intensified its hallowed feeling. The composer was present for a well-deserved bow from the balcony.

Arnold Schoenberg’s Friede auf Erden, Op. 13 (composed from 1906-1911 and premiered in 1911), provided just the right ballast amid such highly ethereal music. It is based on a poem by Conrad Ferdinand Meyer (1886), which despite its Christmas origins is filled with gritty reality and darkness. The music teeters accordingly between faith and desperation. A challenging and dissonant piece to sing (and originally premiered with orchestra for the purpose of keeping singers on course), it was sung here as originally written, a cappella. Any fleeting awkwardness in pitch only served to intensify the emotion of the piece, which ends in somewhat tenuous harmony, presumably reflective of the composer’s sentiments and those of many today. As Schoenberg wrote (1928), “It is perhaps correct that one must be religious in order to compose church music, or in love in order to compose love songs […], but still one must certainly not be wounded in order to portray a wounded person or dying in order to portray a dying person. And so it would certainly be possible to compose a peace hymn without believing in an eternal peace.” Sigh.

Especially on that note, the Rachmaninoff “Bogorioditse Devo” came as a balm in the program. One of this reviewer’s favorite pieces to begin with, it was given an extremely sensitive performance, vibrant with tonal colors. Its enormous dynamic range took one from gripping forte levels, enhanced by an especially fine bass section, to exquisite pianissimo levels, approached with masterful nuance. Bravi tutti!

After these three exceptional performances came the balance of the program, Carol Barnett’s The World Beloved: A Bluegrass Mass, for which the concert was given its title. Though the chorus Downtown Voices did not leave the stage, they were joined by several hundred more singers constituting the Distinguished Concerts Singers International, led by DCINY Guest Conductor Tucker Biddlecombe. These two hundred or so singers combined the forces of the GPS Singers, Dubuque Chorale, McCallie Men’s Chorus, Green Hope High School Voices Of Hope, Nashville Symphony Chorus, SMS Heritage Singers, Northport High School Tour Choir, and as always with DCINY “individual singers from across the globe.” As they quickly filed onto the Perelman stage, one could hear the discreet tunings of five bluegrass instrumentalists, Gabe Terraciano (fiddle), Jacob Joliff (mandolin), Charles Butler (banjo), Jerry Kimbrough (guitar), and Mimi Jones (bass).

As the composer Carol Barnett states herself, “To bring the solemnity of the classical choir-based mass together with the down home sparkle of bluegrass – now there’s an assignment for a composer!” Together with librettist Marisha Chamberlain, Ms. Barnett has done just about that. The work’s twelve sections, some in Latin as with the traditional mass, were woven expertly among more folklike movements of colloquial texts, and with the help of the five excellent bluegrass instrumentalists, there was music of intense syncopation, strong rhythms, and freewheeling fiddle licks. Maestro Biddlecombe was masterful in uniting the huge combined choir.

Though my colleagues have reviewed this mass for New York Concert Review starting over a decade ago, this was my first hearing, and I am happy to say that I thought it worked beautifully overall. From the opening Ballad, rather straight and sung with an unnamed soprano soloist, it kicked into high gear for the ensuing Kyrie with the help of bassist Mimi Jones. The whole bluegrass “band” (though not given a group name and presumable ad hoc freelancers) made a celebration of the fourth movement, Gloria, and it was a singular treat to hear for the very first time the “plenio sunt coeli” text sung in swing rhythm in the Sanctus. Other highlights included some expert mandolin playing in the Credo and the singing by several other unnamed soloists.

With of course no disrespect at all to bluegrass, the style sometimes (via banjo twanging and folksy rhythms) can evoke associations that run counter to the heft of a text, and that fact came to the fore primarily in the eighth movement where mention of the falling of towers and the voice of God seemed to cry out for more of what the composer herself calls “the solemnity of the classical choir-based mass” – and less of what she calls “the down home sparkle of bluegrass”  (a matter of timing). Though we know that the voice of God need not be a basso profundo (and in fact in the twelfth movement God is described as a She) – and we also know that the idea is meant to be of God coming down as a mere mortal – still, one craved the sense of omnipotence at the heart of more traditional masses. This reviewer found herself at times searching for it. Otherwise, the work as a whole came off as a remarkable achievement.

The audience gave a rousing ovation, undoubtedly for performers and composers alike – in addition to the various choral directors who also took a bow. As usual, DCINY is to be congratulated.

Thomas Nickell, piano/composer

Tenri Cultural Center, New York, NY

February 16, 2024

An overflowing crowd was on hand at the Tenri Cultural Center on February 16, 2024, for a recital given by the talented young pianist/composer Thomas Nickell. The program consisted of three Philip Glass Etudes (Nos. 2, 6, and 8), Scottish Triptych by Ronald Stevenson, and two sonatas composed by Mr. Nickell. I’m going to forgo the usual linear path and group the works by each composer, regardless of the order in which they appeared in the program.

Let’s start with the Glass Etudes. Philip Glass wrote twenty etudes over a two-decade period, and divided them into two groups, Book 1 (1-10) and Book 2 (11-20). Glass writes (about Book 1) that his objective was to explore tempi, textures, and technique, with the goal of serving as a pedagogical tool by which he (Glass) would improve his piano playing. They are by no means “virtuosic” in the conventional sense, but they are much more challenging than they appear – with two of the most obvious examples being the need to play evenly without being robotic and the demand for balance of touch in the repetitions (a hallmark of Glass). Mr. Nickell dealt with these issues with a sure technique, never letting the energy flag while maintaining a musical sense throughout. It’s not an easy task, and it’s also something of a high-risk, low-reward proposition that many pianists would not take on in performance. If I had any qualms, it was that Mr. Nickell was overemphasizing the “loud” sections of Etude 6 (as it is never marked louder than forte) – that made it feel a bit more hectic than was necessary.

The Scottish composer Ronald Stevenson (1928-2015) is hardly unknown, but not a household name either. I suspect this was the first time many in the audience encountered his work (this listener was already acquainted with his two piano concerti). The three-movement Scottish Triptych (1959-1967) celebrates three eminent Scottish artists, song composer Francis George Scott, poet and polemicist Hugh MacDiamind, and poet Sorley MacLean. The writing is eclectic, reflecting the diverse talents of the artists profiled. For example, there is a name-initial motif (F, G, Eb(S), for Francis George Scott, a la DSCH), the influence of traditional Celtic music, and some “modern” percussive patterns and clusters. It is a challenging work for player and listener alike. It often dances on the edges of tonality without ever falling completely off, and there are quicksilver changes in mood and style (e.g., a stately funeral march suddenly gives way to a rapid-fire figuration ending in an angry outburst).  In addition, there is use of extended techniques (playing inside the piano, strumming, and pizzicato). While Mr. Nickell has the requisite technique to deal with the difficulties that abound, it was the slower sections (especially the second movement), with his sensitive and poetic playing, that showed his artistry to its fullest extent. This work was the highlight of the evening for this listener.

Now, on to Mr. Nickell’s two compositions, Piano Sonatas Nos. 1 and 2. The Piano Sonata No.1 was “completed” in 2024, or rather the individual movements composed earlier were joined together in 2024. Mr. Nickell writes in his notes that each movement can be played as a stand-alone work (with a different title as well). This modular approach is interesting, but I’m still not convinced that these movements “go together” as a cohesive work. Each movement on its own is appealing and evocative, showing Mr. Nickell’s talent for composition, even if there were strong hints of Cowell, Crumb, Messiaen, and even Liszt’s B minor Sonata mixed in. The audience did not share my reservations, giving Mr. Nickell a hearty ovation.

The Sonata No. 2, Impressions after Gray’s Lanark, takes as its inspiration Scottish author Alasdair Gray’s 1981 novel Lanark. This novel, with strong Kafkaesque and Orwellian undertones, has become something of a cult classic. My first thought was that this was a modern attempt to copy Liszt’s Après une lecture du Dante: Fantasia quasi Sonata, but I quickly discarded that incorrect and unfair idea. In contrast to the First, this Sonata holds together very well! The three movements, Book 3, Oracle, and Epilogue: Prelude-Chorale-Fugue, all convey ideas and episodes from Lanark with remarkable skill. I could easily imagine hearing this music while reading the book. Bravo!

Mr. Nickell has undoubted talent, and as his talent continues to flourish, I expect his compositions to take on more of a distinctive voice that is less indebted to the influences of his role models. I look forward to hearing what the future holds for him.

Vocal Artists Management Services

James Greening-Valenzuela, manager

Gretchen Greenfield, artistic consultant

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

February 1, 2024

Vocal Artists Management Services (VAMS) presented their Fifteenth Season Artist Showcase on February 1, 2024, in the Marc A. Scorca Hall at the Opera America National Opera Center. Scenes from Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro, Handel’s Rodelinda, Bizet’s Carmen, and the musical Les Misérables (music by Claude-Michel Schönberg) formed the program. A brief synopsis of each scene was included in the program notes. Thirteen artists were scheduled to perform the twenty-two selections, both solos and duets. James Greening-Valenzuela, Manager of VAMS, greeted the audience and announced that two artists were ill and unable to perform.

As I have noted in previous reviews at this venue, the Marc A. Scorca Hall has an intimate feel with very live acoustics. One thing that I especially like about VAMS events is that the performers who have completed their selections join the audience to support their colleagues.

These types of concerts are a delight for opera lovers, but they are a challenge for the performers, who must be ready to go after a long wait. It is difficult to be at one’s best under these circumstances, and that might not give the listener a fair demonstration of their abilities.

After the announcement of program modifications, eleven singers and eighteen selections awaited. To comment on each selection would turn this review into a book report, so with this in mind, I will limit myself to commenting on each artist’s highlight. I apologize in advance for shortchanging some who deserved multiple mentions. Also, the stalwart pianist Eric Malson must be recognized – not all heroes wear capes.

Let’s start with the sopranos: Erin Hannon (who appeared in three selections, the most of any one performer) solidified my earlier favorable impression of her (from a 2021 review). Her Susanna from Le nozze di Figaro, particularly in the Deh vieni non tardar, was enchanting. Our alternating Countesses (also from Le nozze di Figaro) Alexandia Crichlow in Porgi amor, and Rebecca Kidnie in Dove sono, displayed the radiant vocal qualities that both have in abundance. Dawna Rae Warren as Rodelinda was stunning – her Morrai si l’empia tua testa was dispatched with what seemed to the greatest ease, making the vocal gymnastics sound like child’s play. Without wishing to take anything away from the other performers, this was the highlight of the evening for this listener.

On to the Mezzo-sopranos: Kaitlyn Tierney offered an impassioned I Dreamed a Dream from Les Misérables. Caroline Tye was a saucy Carmen, complete with a rose in her hair. Her Habanera was subtly provocative, with an understatement that this listener appreciated.

Countertenor Andrew Egbuchiem’s vocal acrobatics in Vivi tiranno from Rodelinda were absolutely breathtaking.

Tenors:  Bradley King wrenched every ounce of torment from Grimaldo’s Fatto inferno from Rodelinda. Sang Bum Cho’s rendition of Don José’s La fleur que tu m’avais jetée, in which he tries to convince Carmen of his feelings for her, was palpable in its sincerity.

Baritones: Tom Sitzler as the bullfighter Escamillo (Carmen) offered a Votre toast, je peux vous le render (better known as the “Toreador Song”) full of swagger and self-importance (complete with taking off his jacket to wave in Toreador fashion), dramatics that were brought to life with his powerful voice. Jin Uk Lee, as Marius (in duet with Ms. Tierney) in A Little Fall of Rain from Les Misérables, was heartbreaking as he pleaded with the mortally wounded Éponine not to die in his arms.

All the singers joined together on stage for a programmed encore of Do You Hear the People Sing? from Les Misérables to the delight of the audience.

Charles Neidich, clarinets

Robert Levin, piano, fortepiano

Morse Recital Hall, Juilliard School, New York, NY

January 31, 2024

As part of the Daniel Saidenberg Faculty Recital Series, clarinetist Charles Neidich and pianist Robert Levin joined forces at Morse Recital Hall at The Juilliard School on January 31, 2024. The pairing of two such noted and scholarly musicians promised not only technically masterful performances, but deeply informed musical ones as well. In addition to some of the favorites of the clarinet repertoire, the program included two premieres: the world premiere of Mr. Neidich’s own composition, Lament for basset clarinet in A and piano, and a U.S. premiere of Landscape by the Light of the Moon by Russian composer Edison Denisov.

I must make mention of the program notes. Filled with historical background, musical analysis that does not require advanced knowledge, and personal observations and anecdotes, these notes were the “gold standard” that I always hope for (and almost never get). Educating the listener is an important aspect of performing that is often overlooked or dismissed.

Mr. Neidich and Mr. Levin took the stage to open with the Grand Duo Concertant, Op. 48, by Carl Maria von Weber. One could say that Weber and the clarinet enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship – his many clarinet works are staples of the repertoire. Probably the most popular clarinet and piano duo, the Grand Duo Concertant has a rich performance history, with both Mendelssohn and Liszt as pianists. That should suggest the virtuosic nature of the piano part (which it of course it is!) – one could never imagine Liszt ever being “the hack in the back”!

Mr. Neidich and Mr. Levin used period instruments (or at least copies of them), a Grenser clarinet (circa 1800) and a Graf piano (circa 1820) for this work (and this work only). I’m not going to tread on the period instrument debate, but the idea of a historically authentic performance does hold a certain charm. As for the instruments themselves, the clarinet has a slightly more mellow sound than its modern counterpart. As for any technical issues, I would be hard pressed to make any claims of definite inferiority. How much of that is due to Mr. Neidich’s virtuosity is arguable, but I suspect it is a large factor. The fortepiano of course lacks the power and resonance of the modern instrument, but in this work, that was a non-issue. If anything, it was an asset.

This is a work that tests both clarinet and pianist to the utmost. Its popularity with performers and listeners alike is easily understood, it is a showpiece par excellence. Mr. Neidich gave what amounted to a masterclass. I hope that the many students in attendance paid close attention. It’s not just the virtuosity that matters, it is what you do with it. The shaping of phrases and rich tone of the slower, more mournful sections (especially the middle movement) were every bit as impressive as the flash. Let’s not forget Mr. Levin – he was an equal partner in all ways, and the ensemble of the two players was perfection. This was a great start!

After the Weber we heard Edison Denisov’s Landscape by the Light of the Moon (U.S. premiere). Denisov was a leading avant-garde composer in the Soviet Union, who committed the “sin” of international success, and as punishment was blacklisted in 1979 at the 6^th Congress of the Union of Soviet Composers by its president, Tikhon Khrennikov. Apparently the infamous 1948 Zhdanov decree had taught them nothing. To Denisov’s credit, he did not let this shameful action deter him from continued composing.

Tonight was the United States premiere. Interestingly enough, Mr. Levin was the pianist of the world premiere, and Ayako Oshima (Mr. Neidich’s wife) premiered the work in Japan.

Hearing Landscape by the Light of the Moon one feels the strong sensation of a foggy night, with the moonlight shining through in such a way that highlights the shadowy forms of a dark night without completely illuminating them. It would not be out of place to imagine this music finding use in film noir. In the hands of musicians of lesser sensitivities and ability, it could end up being rendered as a random mishmash of trills and trite effects. Mr. Neidich and Mr. Levin, who both knew Denisov, avoided these pitfalls in what was a mesmerizing performance.

The Sonata for Violin and Piano in D Minor, Op. 121 by Robert Schumann (as transcribed by Charles Neidich for clarinet), was the final work on the first half. Transcription is a tricky business – there are myriad issues to consider, such as register and range, tonal quality difference between the original instrument and the one being transcribed for, and techniques that cannot be duplicated, i.e., pizzicato. I have heard other violin works transcribed for the clarinet that I found problematic, and not because of the player.

Mr. Neidich’s judgment was superb, and if anything this sonata seems possibly even better suited for the clarinet than the violin in this transcription. As Mr. Neidich stated, violinists find it awkward because of the writing being in the low range, but that range suits the clarinet well. Other than making a few small changes (accounting for double stops and pizzicato), there was little alteration needed. The outer movements possess as Mr. Neidich’s notes state, “a passionate intensity and rhythmic relentlessness that is extreme even for Schumann” – and this was projected well in their performance. The middle movement was gorgeous. Played with élan, it is a wonderful addition to the repertoire.

The second half opened with two pieces for solo bass clarinet by György Kurtág, Capriccio for Solo Bass Clarinet and Words Have Become Unfaithful to Me. Like much of Kurtág’s music, these pieces have quicksilver changes of mood and short motifs of an episodic nature, all the while exploring the intrinsic qualities of the instrument (in this case, the clarinet overtones). Mr. Neidich gave a probing reading, negotiating with assurance the mood swings from serene to troubled, all the while demonstrating both the rich tonal quality of the extreme lower range and the less explored melodic agility of the bass clarinet in an impressive fashion.

Stimmungen Eines Fauns (Moods of a Faun), op. 11, by Ilsa Fromm Michaels (1888-1986) followed the Kurtág pieces. Almost completely unknown today, Michaels is another sad example of a promising career being destroyed by the Third Reich. She survived the Second World War but stopped composing altogether after 1945. Mr. Neidich wrote in his notes that he knew her son Jost Michaels (also a clarinetist) but had not known of her and therefore had never inquired about her.

There are three short movements for clarinet solo (Klage, Schalkslaune, Schermut) which roughly translate as Lament, Mischievousness, and Melancholy. As Mr. Neidich played, two dancers, one male and one female (probably Juilliard dance students), took the part of fauns in a choreographed routine. I’m not qualified to speak critically about dance, but it was visually striking and the movements were executed with precision. I’m not sure if the music informed the dance, or the dance informed the music, but it was fascinating to see and hear.

Equally fascinating was our brief glimpse of Mr. Neidich as a composer, in the world premiere of his Lament for Basset Clarinet and Piano. Completed on New Year’s Day 2024, this is a welcome and much-needed addition to the nearly non-existent Basset Clarinet repertoire. The Basset is basically a clarinet with the addition of extended lower range to C below the standard low E of the standard clarinet.

What exactly is being lamented is not entirely clear, as Mr. Neidich does not give specifics in his program notes, but does allude to world events and his reaction to them as being significant factors. The piano simulated the tolling of bells, and much of the lament takes the form of anger and indignation as opposed to sadness and resignation. It was played by both Mr. Neidich and Mr. Levin with passion and power. There is a lot to process, and I feel that subsequent listenings will help shape reactions and understanding.

Now, saving the best for last – Johannes Brahms’s Sonata for Clarinet and Piano in F minor, Op. 120, No. 1, closed the evening. This work needs no introduction save for the fact that it is an undisputed masterpiece. It was a perfect bookend to the Weber. Open the night with a masterclass, close the night with a masterclass. Thank you, Mr. Neidich and Mr. Levin for giving me the luxury of taking off my “critic” hat and putting on my “music lover” hat. It was easily the highlight of the night for me. The audience knew it was something special as well, and gave the duo the proper respect of a loud ovation.

Noise Catalogue: Madeline Hocking, violin; Daniel Matei, percussion; Jonathan Collazo, percussion

The Rhythm Method: Leah Asher, violin; Marina Kifferstein, violin; Carrie Frey, viola; Meaghan Burke, cello

Tenri Cultural Center, New York, New York

January 26, 2024

On January 26, 2024, the Tenri Cultural Center was the venue for the presentation of the 2023 Mamlok Prize for Interpreters of Contemporary Music. The featured performers were Noise Catalogue (Madeline Hocking, violin; Daniel Matei, percussion; Jonathan Collazo, percussion), winner of The Dwight and Ursula Mamlok Advancement Award for Interpreters of Contemporary Music Junior Prize, and The Rhythm Method (Leah Asher, violin, Marina Kifferstein, violin; Carrie Frey, viola; Meaghan Burke, cello), winner of The Dwight and Ursula Mamlok Prize for Interpreters of Contemporary Music Senior Prize. Along with two works of Ursula Mamlok, there were works from four other composers, some of whom were among the performers.

The Dwight and Ursula Mamlok Prize for Interpreters of Contemporary Music is awarded annually, alternating in Berlin and New York. In New York, it is awarded through the Contemporary Music Performance graduate program of Manhattan School of Music, where Ursula Mamlok taught for many years. To learn more, click the following link: The Dwight and Ursula Mamlok Foundation.

Some general observations: The overflowing crowd, with at least ten people left standing for the entirety of the concert, was vociferously supportive of the composers and artists. This made a favorable impression on this listener. It was quite obvious that this was also an audience well-versed in contemporary music that needed minimal “help” to appreciate what they were hearing. However, if there were any “newbies” in attendance, this was a good introduction to contemporary music, as the works were (mostly) easily accessible to all listeners. In any case, the excellence of the performances was not in doubt. These are exceptional musicians who are wholly committed to advancing the cause of contemporary music.

After a brief introduction and welcome by Reiko Füting, Vice-Chairman of the Dwight and Ursula Mamlok Foundation and chair of the composition department at the Manhattan School of Music, Noise Catalogue took the stage for the first half. Noise Catalogue consists of three musicians, violinist Madeline Hocking and percussionists Daniel Matei and Jonathan Collazo. Ms. Hocking and Mr. Matei opened with Firmwood and Monroe by James Warner Duquette. Mr. Duquette offers this statement as his credo: “I have dedicated my life to writing music. I am always interested in discussing music. If you have any thoughts or ideas or feedback or criticism, my telephone number is (redacted).” That is walking the walk! I’m not sure that putting one’s phone number out there for all to see is the most prudent idea, but I’m speaking from the perspective of an older and (probably) more cynical person. I hope any phone calls are respectful and beneficial for his continued development as a composer.

The printed notes were perplexing – directions to a bagel shop? What did this have to do with the piece? As it turns out, nothing. As I overheard at intermission, Mr. Duquette told the person sitting next to me that he wrote down directions that he passed along, and they ended up in the program notes. My impression of Firmwood and Monroe is that there is some atmospheric uncertainty expressed by the violin punctuated by percussion thunderclaps.

I hate to be the “get off my lawn” curmudgeon, but the explosive outbursts on the bass drum (the hard end of the sticks being applied with great force) were oppressively loud for the small and acoustically live Tenri Center. A little less would have not damaged the effect (or my hearing). It’s a case of “know the hall.” That one complaint aside, it was a thought-provoking work, and I would like to hear more from this composer (and hopefully his insights sans bagel shop directions).

Ursula Mamlok ‘s From My Garden (1983) followed. This work was originally written for solo viola but has been adapted for other stringed instruments. Tonight, it was played on the violin by Ms. Hocking. As I wrote in an earlier review: One of the main features of Mamlok’s music is her emphasis on Klangfarbe to express moods and colors. This gives her music an attractive and accessible quality. From My Garden is no exception- it is definitely serialist writing, but it is not so far away from strict tonality, which makes it, to quote Mamlok herself (about this work), “very easy to listen to.” Ms. Hocking is a sensitive artist, who painted a picture of serene beauty in her playing. This is not to say that the work is without technical challenges- it is an effective piece to showcase the ability of the player and the instrument itself. Ms. Hocking showed herself to be up to the task. It was enchanting.

The collaborative work Hajnali by Daniel Matei and Madeline Hocking ended the half. They were joined by Mr. Collazo. Inspired by traditional Romanian dance as well as Hungarian folksong, it is a highly energetic piece with countless technical demands that push the performers to the utmost; the violin part is not only virtuosic in the conventional sense but requires some extended techniques, such as using a loose string instead of the bow.

There is a strong temptation to give an accounting of the “action” that would reduce this to a play-by-play reporting more appropriate for a sporting event. To be sure, it is visually interesting to watch the percussionists move from instrument to instrument, but it is the sonic effects that are most compelling. The use of suspended microphones swaying back and forth over some of the percussion was an effect that this listener found especially fascinating. My one complaint (again!) was that the percussion was overpowering at points and drowning out Ms. Hocking, even though her violin was amplified. In any case, the audience roared its approval. It was an exciting finish to the half.

After Intermission, the Senior Prize winners, The Rhythm Method (Leah Asher, violin; Marina Kifferstein, violin; Carrie Frey, viola; Meaghan Burke, cello), took the stage. What is especially striking about this ensemble is that each member is a composer with a distinct voice but with a collective vision for the future of the string quartet. We were told by cellist Meaghan Burke that a February 16, 2024, concert is to include a premiere of a work by each member(!) of the quartet. Tonight, violist Carrie Frey’s a chorus like distant screaming (2023) opened their selections.

Ms. Frey writes in her informative notes that a chorus like distant screaming is the third piece inspired by Arkady Martine’s sci-fi novel A Memory Called Empire and its sequel A Desolation Called Peace (side note: Thank you for the book recommendation!). Even without the benefit of program notes, it would be obvious to grasp the concept of multiple voices moving to become as one. There are also vocalizations inspired by the music of the Romanian region Țara Oașului.

I found a video of this work played by The Rhythm Method on YouTube: a chorus like distant screaming by Carrie Frey (youtube.com). As captivated as I was by listening to this video, it paled in comparison to a live performance. This is a highly evocative work filled with mesmerizing sonic effects, transporting listeners to a far-away place in their imaginations. It takes a special ensemble to realize these qualities in actual performance, and The Rhythm Method nailed it! This is the work of an intelligent composer who not only knows her craft, but the ways to exploit her expert knowledge of the possibilities of the instruments to great advantage. No disrespect to any of the other composers, but this was far and away this listener’s favorite work of the evening.

Ursula Mamlok’s String Quartet No. 2 closed the evening. In contrast to her 1^st String Quartet, this work is almost neoclassical in form and conception. The first and third movements are lyrical and playful, with some clever touches (i.e., themes being repeated inverted). One can conceive that a futurist Fauré could have written the second movement. There are hints of Berg’s Lyric Suite near the end of the finale as well. The Rhythm Method offered a nuanced reading that showed how well they grasped Mamlok’s conception. The audience responded enthusiastically, which was well-deserved. I think the future is bright for The Rhythm Method, and I do hope to hear them again.

At the end, Noise Catalogue joined The Rhythm Method on stage for a final bow to the cheers of the audience.

Jeffrey Williams

Jonathan Griffith, Artistic Director and Conductor
Sir Karl Jenkins, Conductor
Jeff Spurgeon, Host
Blythe Gaissert, Mezzo-Soprano

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra
Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 15, 2024

Sir Karl Jenkins, a prolific and celebrated composer in England and around the globe, was given a joyous and heartfelt tribute at Carnegie Hall by Distinguished Concerts International New York. The rapid approach of his ninth decade has not diminished his popularity or vitality, as he is currently juggling several projects and commissions.

Though I was unfamiliar with the work of Mr. Jenkins before this concert, his talent and facility as a composer and his commitment to music as a vehicle for pacifism were in evidence this evening. The centerpiece of the performance was The Armed Man: A Mass for Peace, a work in thirteen movements that has the distinction of occupying fifth place in the list of Great British Classics. A fifteenth-century French chanson, L’Homme Armé was the point of departure for an affecting work that evoked both the carnage of war and its opposite, a plea for peace and healing.

Mr. Jenkins is a very fine orchestrator, especially for brass and percussion, and they were given plenty to do throughout this work due to the nature of its subject matter. The players handled it brilliantly, particularly the trumpets, led by Michael Gorham, and every one of the percussion soloists. This composer has a gift for melody however, and it was in those more lyrical movements that the Mass was most compelling. Mezzo-soprano Blythe Gaissert led a simple but poignant Kyrie against an underpinning of low strings and chorus. Similarly, the Hymn Before Action, with its sweeping, unapologetic romanticism, was worthy of a 1950’s biblical epic. But it was the penultimate movement, the Benedictus, that was the highlight of the evening, in large part due to the superb playing of cello soloist Robert Burkhart. In general, the strings played a supporting role in this concert, but they produced a consistently beautiful sound, led by their excellent leader, Jorge Ávila.

Midway through the evening, Sir Karl Jenkins himself made an appearance, sporting his signature walrus moustache and aviator glasses. More encomiums were offered, including a clever arrangement of Happy Birthday played by the orchestra with full audience participation. At age eighty, he seems to have retained his youthful demeanor and commitment to music that has social relevance. After intermission, a selection of his most famous compositions, billed as “The Best of Karl Jenkins,” received a committed performance. Several movements from Symphonic Adiemus, Requiem and Stabat Mater solidified my impressions from the first half of the concert. The composer writes well and idiomatically for orchestra and chorus, albeit with challenging passages. The chorus sounded more settled and accurate in the second half, and once again the percussion section shone with featured solos on traditional Middle Eastern instruments. My one reservation about this concert was the programming of mostly liturgical works that had remarkably similar overall structures. The use of ostinato, driving rhythm and repetition to build tension were present in virtually all of the Allegro movements, while the development of thematic material was largely absent. Played separately, each work would have had more impact, but all of them performed consecutively lessened the effect. Still, I was happy to have spent a night with the music of this celebrated and well-loved musician, Sir Karl Jenkins.

Peter Tiboris, General Director and Artistic Director of MidAmerica Productions/conductor

John Rutter, CBE, conductor

New England Symphonic Ensemble

Preston Hawes, Artistic director and Concertmaster

Juliet Ariadne Papadopoulos, soprano; Courtney Johnson, soprano; Reveka Mavrovitis, mezzo-soprano; Abraham Bretón; tenor; Philip Skinner, bass

Eilana Lappalainen, reader

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 7, 2024

On January 7, 1984, Peter Tiboris created and conducted a concert at Alice Tully Hall, which became the founding date of MidAmerica Productions . January 7, 2024, forty years later to the exact date, Mr. Tiboris was to conduct Beethoven’s monumental Ninth Symphony in celebration of that anniversary. In those 40 years, MidAmerica Productions grew to boast the following numbers: This was to be the 1,480^th Concert Worldwide, 1,144^th in New York, and 689^th in Carnegie Hall. These are mind-boggling numbers, and one can only marvel at how many careers have been launched by the indefatigable Mr. Tiboris and MidAmerica Productions.

To add to the celebration, composer John Rutter (b. 1945) was also featured as the conductor of his Magnificat, which had its world premiere in a 1990 MidAmerica concert (which Mr. Rutter conducted). Choruses from Connecticut, Florida, New Jersey, and New York joined the New England Symphonic Ensemble in what was both a musically substantial and spiritually uplifting concert.

To open this 40^th anniversary concert, John Rutter took the stage to conduct his seven-movement Magnificat. J.S. Bach is the obvious precedent, but the work is pure Rutter through and through. Filled with the eclectic style that is characteristic of Rutter, joyful energy abounds with lyrical melodic material adorned with brilliant fanfares and heraldic-sounding motifs. It has definite crowd-pleasing qualities for which some have ironically taken the composer to task (including one review from a past performance that was so negative that I was astonished at the level of vitriol, as if the composer had committed a heinous crime by appealing to the masses). This listener is not one of those naysayers. As they say, “haters gonna hate.” The audience loved it, and in fact they continued to applaud at the end of each of the seven movements (even though the printed program stated, “Please kindly hold your applause until the end of the Magnificat”). This listener’s favorite movement was the Fecit potentiam, in which irregular rhythms and driving energy at times bordered on malevolence, though ultimately conveying strength. It is regrettable, however, that no text was provided.

Soprano soloist Juliet Ariadne Papadopoulos has a lovely voice, and her upper register was pure and without strain. My one quibble was she was inconsistent in projecting; there were several occasions where the chorus and orchestra were dominating her, and it was not because they were playing/singing too loudly. When she did break through, and especially in the upper register, the effect was enchanting. Mr. Rutter conducted with vigor, and the orchestra and chorus paid back that energy with a dynamic performance. The audience gave Mr. Rutter an extended ovation at the end.

After intermission, Eilana Lappalainen came to the stage to recite the An die Freude (Ode to Joy) by German poet Friedrich Schiller in both German and English as a prelude to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor, Op. 125. This was unusual, and I am still questioning how effective or helpful this was to the average audience member. Unless one speaks/understands German, there is little value in hearing a reading in that language. I think it is highly unlikely that anyone not already intimately familiar with the text was going to match the words to the music upon hearing it. I would have much preferred the text to be in the printed program (which it was not). Also, there was no mention of the opening lines written by Beethoven himself – O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! Sondern laßt uns angenehmere anstimmen, und freudenvollere. (Oh friends, not these sounds! Let us instead strike up more pleasing and more joyful ones!) that precede Schiller’s. These reservations are not a reflection on Ms. Lappalainen herself, she was an outstanding speaker, with a clear and pleasant-sounding voice.

After the reading, Peter Tiboris made his way to the podium to conduct this masterpiece. As announced in an article in OperaWire, Maestro Tiboris was using Leonard Bernstein’s ivory baton. One might wonder what inspiration might flow through this baton, but Maestro Tiboris exhibited none of Bernstein’s famous histrionics at the podium, nor any of his “touches” to the music itself. On the contrary, the conducting of Maestro Tiboris was taut and restrained, but I am getting ahead of myself.

About the Ninth itself, so much has been written that one could fill volumes just by attempting to summarize even a portion of it (the famous story of contralto Caroline Unger turning the completely deaf Beethoven around to face the cheers of the audience at the May 7. 1824 premiere is one of the most well-known). Suffice it to say that this is not only one of Beethoven’s greatest works, it is one of the greatest works in the entire history of music. A quote from the program notes says it all- “Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony stands as a testament to musical ingenuity and remains an immortal testament to human creativity.”

This is far from this listener’s “first rodeo” with the Ninth. I have heard performances ranging from abysmal to outstanding. It is one of my favorite works, and with that are some rather strong opinions. How did this performance measure up? In a nutshell, it is definitely in my top ten and possibly even in my top five. I admired Maestro Tiboris’s approach, which was almost minimalist (he often let his right hand remain at his side and let his left hand lead with small gestures). He placed his trust in the fine orchestra and it paid off handsomely. The sublime first movement, the energetic scherzo second movement (with those delightful tympani “calls”), the serene beauty of the third were all in themselves played with such ability that if the symphony ended with the third movement it would have been memorable. But there was still the epic finale – I could hear it a thousand times, and a thousand times I would be transported to a higher plane.

One thing that was both odd and distracting was the chorus rising from their seats just before measure 92, the introduction of the “Ode to Joy” theme in the celli, instead of waiting for measure 208, the restatement of the opening Presto theme, as is customary. Where the latter has any noises covered by the fortissimo tutti, the former was a cacophony of the sounds of shifting chairs that very nearly broke the spell. This was a bad decision!

Let’s talk about the soloists. Bass Philip Skinner was quite leisurely as he rose to open the choral section, in fact he barely was on his feet when he sang out O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! I cannot recall hearing such a decisive and powerful voice! It was like a cannon shot and it was amazing to hear. Soprano Courtney Johnson, mezzo-soprano Reveka Mavrovitis, and tenor Abraham Bretón also projected well into the hall and held their own with the powerhouse Mr. Skinner. The large chorus was obviously well-prepared. The final Götterfunken! that launches the exuberant Prestissimo ended the symphony and concert in triumph. The audience leapt to their feet in a thunderous ovation, and for those who had heard this work for the first time, I suspect it was a life-changing experience.

Congratulations to Peter Tiboris and MidAmerica Productions for forty years of service to music and may the next forty be every bit as impactful.

Yuwan Zhang, vocalist

Jeffrey Chappell, pianist

December 31, 2023

A link to the album “Move Forward Like the Seasons” wound up in my box for reviewing this holiday season, the first album for singer Yuwan Zhang, and it made for some lovely listening. In the collection are five standards billed as from the “American Songbook”: Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most, Summertime, Autumn Leaves, Blackberry Winter, and Fly Me to the Moon. Clearly, there is a seasonal theme at play, and we are told by Ms. Zhang in notes not provided to the public that it arose from four jazz ensemble concerts over four semesters at Goucher College, 2017-2019. She called the concerts “The Season Tour” and four years later, the piano-vocal version of these songs became her first album. As Ms. Zhang writes, “This album contains many seasons of mine … The reason for me to choose “Fly Me to the Moon” as the last piece is because I believe no matter how seasons go by, we always see the loved ones in our hearts.” She adds that the title of the album is from the lyrics of a song called Seasons written by her favorite singer-songwriter Greyson Chance, whose mother said, “We don’t grow up with years, but with the rotation of the seasons.”

Most music lovers will be familiar with several of these standards, such as Summertime (1934, by George Gershwin, with lyrics by Ira Gershwin and DuBose Heyward), Autumn Leaves (1946, by Joseph Kosma, lyrics by Johnny Mercer), and Fly Me to the Moon (1954, music and lyrics by Bart Howard). The two songs that may be slightly less familiar to many are Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most (1955, music by Tommy Wolf, lyrics by Fran Landesman) and Blackberry Winter (1976, music by Alec Wilder, lyrics by Loonis McGlohon).

These last two were highlights for this listener. Though there is a stunning Ella Fitzgerald rendition of Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most – and more recently Norah Jones and others – this listener hasn’t encountered it in concerts more than once or twice, so it was good to see it on this new recording by Ms. Zhang. She delivers the lines with persuasive pathos. As one heard in several other songs there was also a chance for a more up-tempo interlude by the pianist Jeffrey Chappell (who was also Ms. Zhang’s jazz performance teacher during her undergraduate years). A graduate of Curtis and Peabody, Mr. Chappell is currently Professor Emeritus at Goucher College, composer, journalist, recording artist on multiple labels, and a member of the award-winning jazz quartet, Otherworld. He and Ms. Zhang collaborate well, at least as heard here.

Blackberry Winter is another underappreciated gem. In fact, if one searches the title, one will find much information about the seasonal phenomenon of “Blackberry Winter” (the kind of mid-spring cold snap that inspired the song) before one even finds this song. Ms. Zhang’s rendition captures the song’s captivating wistfulness, and Mr. Chappell provides beautiful support.

Of the more familiar songs, Summertime was a surprise. To start with, it was miles from the slow steamy versions that bring to mind sweltering scenes of Catfish Row in Gershwin’s opera Porgy and Bess (from which the song comes). That was already a jolt, but then the Zhang-Chappell version took a new direction structurally as well, with a rhythmic keyboard bass in the introduction and an up-tempo middle section featuring walking bass and lively keyboard improvisation. This middle section made the return to the sultry opening all the more poignant, but it will be for some an acquired taste. Also, in terms of timbre, Ms. Zhang’s voice (a light mezzo) showed in this song more the breathiness of an ingénue than the world-weary heroine we expect from this historic opera.

Beyond these surprises, there was little attempt to simulate the regional dialect one usually hears in this song (no dropped G’s for example). Granted, there is room for reimagining such songs – even Janis Joplin did a version Gershwin would hardly have recognized (though even Janis Joplin dropped a lot of G’s!), but it may be tough for some diehard fans of this song’s tradition to hear it afresh. Among other surprises (and at the risk of seeming to advocate for cultural appropriation – a charge that has beset this opera and Gershwin in general in recent years), there is a regional spirit at the roots of this music, and the absence of that left this listener feeling that something was amiss at times. That said, undoubtedly new young listeners who are less steeped in the history of this opera may enjoy the ride.

The accompaniment of Summertime was again expertly done by Jeffrey Chappell. Frankly, the instrument he played on sounded more like an electronic keyboard than an acoustic piano, but as we were not informed of the details about the recording (no dates, places, or engineering credits named, not even composers in what I was sent), it’s anyone’s guess. Whatever the case was, he handled his part beautifully.

More of Mr. Chappell’s styling was enjoyed in Autumn Leaves. Here Ms. Zhang was also at her best, savoring the low register with the melancholy feeling that expresses the heart of this song. Just as in Summertime, Autumn Leaves enjoyed a “breakout” moment in a brisker tempo.

The extremely famous standard, Fly Me to the Moon, was a pleasant surprise. It opened with what was either another singer in duet with Ms. Zhang or it was overdubbed by Ms. Zhang herself. Again, we don’t know, but whatever the case may be, it was charming. At just around a minute and a quarter (much shorter than the usuals, including Sinatra et al.), it seemed to be over too soon.

Ms. Zhang has an appealing musicality and much flair. Hailing from Chengdu, China. she came to the United States in 2016 (graduating in 2020 with a bachelor’s degree in music and biology from Goucher College) and has already won some prizes and appeared at Carnegie Hall. She studied vocal music performance with Annie Gill and is currently in the Master of Fine Arts in Screen Scoring program at Columbia College, Chicago, studying with Michael Patterson and Kubilay Uner. With such wide-ranging skills in music, Ms. Zhang will surely make her mark through one or more of them. For now, you can catch her “on the rise” with this recording.

The Zhang-Chappell collection is being released on December 31^st on Soundcloud, Bandcamp, and NetEase Cloud Music, with other platforms to be announced.