Earl and Darielle Linehan Concert Hall, University of Maryland, Baltimore County

Live Concert Recording 11/22/2022

Links to two outstanding videos of unusual repertoire came my way this week, and it is a joy to share them with our readers. The videos are of Teodora Adzharova performing both Shostakovich Piano Sonatas in live concert at the Earl and Darielle Linehan Concert Hall, University of Maryland Baltimore County (UMBC), November 2022, and they are available on YouTube (Piano Sonata No.1, Op.12 and Piano Sonata No. 2, Op. 61). Though this recital was over a year ago, the study of Shostakovich is a long-term pursuit for Dr. Adzharova. As her website (www.teodoraadzharova.com) reveals, she is releasing an all-Shostakovich CD this season (including the Op. 61 Sonata and the Preludes, Op. 34), and she just last month performed an all-Shostakovich program at the DiMenna Center in New York. Meanwhile, she is busy preparing papers on these works for publication and is slated to give lecture recitals on Shostakovich’s music in Europe. A graduate of the Peabody Institute with MM and DMA, Dr. Adzharova stands out from those DMA recipients who merely check the doctoral “box” as a credential; her activities reflect strong ongoing scholarly interest, and her superb playing brings that scholarship to life.

In preparing to watch these videos, this reviewer was struck by the paucity of widely available Shostakovich Sonata recordings. As Dr. Adzharova’s website states, she is “one of the few pianists who performs both of Shostakovich’s sonatas in a single program” – and this listener would agree, having never heard them performed together; the situation, however, is a bit more extreme than that, as it seems that she is one of very few pianists performing either one regularly. There have been notable performances, past and present, of course. Standout versions of Sonata No. 1 (1926) include the rather edge-of-seat Lilya Zilberstein version from 1989 (live and on compact disc). The Sonata No. 2 (1943) boasts proponents none other than Emil Gilels (1965) and Maria Yudina (LP, 1961), with more recent performances by Valentina Lisitsa 2011 (live, YouTube). Viktoria Postnikova, whose repertoire is encyclopedic, recorded both on a 1983 LP, and the ultra-clear, controlled recordings by Konstantin Scherbakov (2003, 2006) are part of a monumental set. Still, considering the proliferation of piano sonata performances by other 20th-century composers, the overall neglect of these Shostakovich works is shocking. His symphonies, the chamber music, and the Preludes and Fugues have been explored routinely from many angles, but the same cannot be said of these sonatas. The culprit could partly be the immense challenges (for the performer and sometimes for the listener), though musicians have certainly embraced plenty of prickly and difficult 20th-century works. It may be, in addition, that an assumption is being made due to the sonatas’ age (around 100 years and 80 years old) that they are “covered ground” and thus do not warrant the heroics involved. Those heroics require a performer of undaunted musical intellect, sympathetic musicality, comprehensive technique, and a commitment to bringing this repertoire to life for audiences (is that all?). Enter Teodora Adzharova.

What Dr. Adzharova proves in each note of both videos is how compelling and beautifully crafted these works are. The first link heard was the Sonata No.1, and it immediately drew this listener in. Just over 13 minutes in duration (one essentially unbroken fast-slow-fast structure, with small transitional sections), it was composed when Shostakovich was just 19, and he reportedly enjoyed performing it himself quite a bit. It is easy to imagine why, as a means of exploiting his own pianism – and one cannot grasp why more young pianistic firebrands do not seize the opportunity to do the same. As Dr. Adzharova played it, with precise rhythmic bite and electrifying energy, she sold the piece. Performing without the score, she conveyed her conception with crystal clarity. Her emotional and dynamic range seemed limitless as she unleashed ever greater aggressiveness in the first section, sailing through glissandi into a more sardonic mode (where one could hear Prokofiev’s influence), and winding down to ppp levels in the shadowy Adagio (marked tenebroso). In the subsequent Lento, she balanced three registers and tiers of composition in a hypnotic haze. There was a moment at the end of the Lento, around eight bars before the change to Allegro, where one did wonder about two rhythmic motives that sounded the same, though marked as different rhythms in the score; with a pianist this excellent, one tends to assume it was a conscious decision based on some research to which we are not privy (rather than a live performance glitch); that being said, there were very few glitches in this surefire performance. The only other minor discrepancies with the score appeared towards the end of the piece, but they also seemed intentional, and this is not the forum for such determinations. If these were “heat of the moment” adjustments, we should all be so fortunate!

The Sonata No. 2, composed seventeen years later in 1943, is much longer (around thirty minutes) and much more substantial. In the hands of Teodora Adzharova it emerges as a masterpiece. Here it is her phrasing that stands out, rendering many of the composer’s themes lyrical and more memorable for the listener, who thus can navigate the piece more easily. Despite the reports that Shostakovich himself played the piano as a percussion instrument, too many players do so to detrimental effect – and it should go without saying that Shostakovich’s work with strings and other more sustaining instruments naturally found its way into all his piano music. Dr. Adzharova plays this solo work like chamber music. Interestingly it is very close in opus number to the E minor Piano Trio, traces of which kept coming to mind for this reviewer.

In this larger work, Dr. Adzhanova’s artistry takes freer rein. Though some of her tempi take the markings with a judicious pinch of salt, one cannot find fault in her conception.  The Largo movement is profoundly moving, with the meno mosso section of such deathly dryness that the return of gentler lyricism is even more stirring.

The third movement, marked Moderato and opening with one of the longest purely right-hand solos in the piano literature, is phrased again with care in each detail. Dr. Adzhanova plays with the kind of vocal shaping that marks a true musician. She has the details, and she has the big picture. As the variations unfold, the pianist moves from solo to transparent duo, through an almost pointillistic staccato section, then to aquasi chorale, back to more motoric rhythms, and on to an almost French Overture-type declamation – all leading to a heavenly and somehow heartbreaking suggestion of B major before an understated closing section. Dr. Adzhanova brings it all to life without histrionics but with palpable drama. Bravissima!

Whenever Dr. Adzhanova’s CD comes out, it promises to be worth a listen. This project, as your reviewer sees it, has only two drawbacks. The first is that it will contain only one of the two sonatas, the Op. 61 (though the Op. 34 Preludes will be interesting). You’ll simply have to listen to her performance of the earlier Op. 12 Sonata on YouTube. The second drawback is that this CD will face stiff competition from this pianist’s own live videos. Those are hard to top.

New England Symphonic Ensemble, Peter Tiboris, Conductor

Karl Chang, Conductor
Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage at Carnegie Hall, New York

Sunday, March 31, 2024, 2:00 PM

Mid-America Productions presented a surprisingly weighty program for an Easter Sunday this weekend, including Verdi’s Overture to La Forza Del Destino and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 (1877), both performed by the New England Symphonic Ensemble under conductor Peter Tiboris (who is also Founder and General Music Director for MidAmerica). Both works were completed within a decade of each other (Verdi’s St Petersburg premiere in 1862 having led to a complete revision before an 1869 performance at La Scala), and both are works of struggle and torment, centering on themes of fate. (It seems these themes may feel timely to presenters, as the Metropolitan Opera just recently presented La Forza Del Destino for the first time in 17 years – complete with modern touches and thinly veiled political references). From a glance at the MidAmerica website, it appeared as if these works would be followed by children’s choruses singing such songs as Over the Rainbow and Circle of Life – and this reviewer had wondered how exactly that would play out (like little Easter baskets on a battlefield), but fortunately the order turned out to be the reverse, with the children opening.

Around 150 cherubic youngsters filed onstage to start, and the optimism and excitement were palpable, both from them and from relatives and friends one could see snapping photos from the audience. The combined choruses included the Crystal Children’s Choir (Cupertino, CA, Chiafen Lin, Director), Crystal Children’s Choir (Taiwan, Hua-Lin Chung, Director), and the National University of Tainan Affiliated Primary School (NUTNPS) Children’s Choir (Tainan City, Shu-Nu Sun, Director). They were led through most of the songs by the very adept Karl Chang, with excellent piano support from Claire Chiu.

First came John Rutter’s All Things Bright and Beautiful (based on a hymn of Cecil Francis Alexander, 1848), and it exuded such sweetness that it was hard to hold back tears. Any efforts to hold them back were foiled completely by the next piece, Elaine Hagenberg’s O Love, inspired by the words of Scottish minister George Matheson (1882), who had endured blindness and abandonment by his fiancée and was writing to summon hope on the eve of his sister’s wedding. Elaine Hagenberg is a new name to this reviewer, but here she showed she can choose and set a text in a way that pulls at one’s heartstrings. The young choristers were beautifully prepared, and the gentle sound of cellist Sofiia Yatsyshyna (Carnegie Scholars Program Musician) added color in an unobtrusive way.

A very young chorister stepped forward to introduce the next song, Gratitude, by Faye Wong (arr. Man Tou), and to offer thanks to all the parents and community for the unwavering support that made this event possible. One could only think that something very special and worth emulating has been done here, integrating music into these children’s lives, and the chorus’s committed performance bore that out. Promising young trumpeter Abner Marquez (Carnegie Scholars Program Musician) contributed his fine playing.

Next came Over the Rainbow (E. Y. Harburg, Harold Arlen), in the updated version of Andy Beck and enhanced by accomplished percussionist Zoey Cobb. Conductor Chiafen Lin introduced the song (without a microphone, unfortunately, so whatever she said went unheard), and the children sang it with great involvement. For the group’s finale, conductor Karl Chang returned to lead the choirs in Circle of Life (billed on the program as Tim Rice, Hans Zimmer, Elton John, Lebo M., arr. Audrey Snyder). As usual, this song was a hit, enhanced here by trumpet, drum, maracas, and also some waving and coordinated movements from the singers. The very young girl who sang the solo opening displayed great spirit and a remarkably strong and sure voice for one so young.

A brief intermission was used to set up for the New England Symphonic Ensemble (Preston Hawes, Artistic Director), for the upcoming heft of the program. Maestro Peter Tiboris stepped to the podium with confidence and led the orchestra with gusto in the Verdi Overture to La Forza Del Destino. From the first blasts of brass through the driving undercurrents in the strings, one felt cohesion in the work and unanimity among the musicians. Only occasionally did one want more crispness in the lower strings, but overall the musicians achieved polish and balance. There was particularly impressive playing by a solo oboist, though sadly one cannot credit the unnamed player.

It was a stroke of genius to precede Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony with this Verdi Overture, as the latter projects the tragedy of destiny in rather succinct high drama, whereas the Tchaikovsky Symphony offers a much more extended (i.e., around forty-minute) expansion on such a fateful journey. In composing the Fourth Symphony, Tchaikovsky wrote that “One’s whole life is just a perpetual traffic between the grimness of reality and one’s fleeting dreams of happiness.” Transferred to music, this symphony grapples with this “traffic” so much that it can be a bit unwieldy to hold together; nonetheless, Maestro Tiboris was undaunted and led the orchestra admirably. The first movement is what is in greatest danger of feeling bloated thanks to its rather episodic departures from tighter, more traditional musical architecture, but a vigorous approach can help it cohere. Maestro Tiboris took a bracing tempo, which certainly helped (though this reviewer admits to preferring it even just a shade faster), and he maintained what seemed to be a clear overview and command of its intricacies – not an easy task.

The poignant second movement unfolded with seemingly effortless lyrical grace – and again the unnamed first oboist won our admiration. The Scherzo movement had a good lightness in its precise pizzicato flights, and the finale, much more driving, reached an impressive, frenzied peak. Whether this finale was intended by Tchaikovsky to represent triumph or simply a final statement on human valiance, the movement calls for a frenzy of brass and percussion, requiring immense unified energies to make a successful performance. Maestro Tiboris and the New England Symphonic Ensemble gave it a riveting ride, dazzling with their superb split-second timing. The audience was beyond exhilarated, roaring its approval.

Congratulations go to MidAmerica – and all involved – for an outstanding continuation of their 40th-year festivities. This was their 692nd concert in Carnegie Hall (among close to 1,500 concerts they’ve presented worldwide), and there is much more to come.

Dan Flanagan, violin

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 25, 2024

Dan Flanagan is back in town. The violinist and art patron brought his one man show, The Bow and the Brush, back to New York, only this time in a larger and more storied venue, Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall. The change in location offered some advantages (more seating capacity, better acoustics) and some disadvantages (primarily the inability to project images on a screen for the audience to see). The images in question are the paintings that inspired a variety of composers to create short works for solo violin, all commissioned by and performed by the violinist. Mr. Flanagan, ever the professional, compensated for the missing visuals by acting as docent on a mini-tour of his collection, though his homespun manner was more Garrison Keillor than Philippe de Montebello.

This year’s slightly expanded program offered nineteen works, six of which were new to me. Trevor Weston’s Notre Dame au milieu de l’eau et du ciel was remarkable for its quicksilver shifts in mood and technique, a compositional response to the artist Lebourg’s juxtaposition of the natural world (sky, water) and the spiritual (Notre Dame). This conceptual approach worked, made even more convincing by Mr. Flanagan’s playing, which is narrative in the best sense.

In Jessica Mays’ And miles to go…, Albert Malet’s painting evokes in turn a Robert Frost poem, and the two come to life beautifully in the composer’s treatment. The main theme, haunting and impassioned, is frequently interrupted by short pizzicato fragments, as if the traveler on this wintry path is torn between stasis and movement. It was interesting to note the equation between perspective in visual art and volume in music, a choice which several of the evening’s composers made convincingly. Catherine Neville’s Danses should really be choreographed, so successfully did she evoke the spirit of dance by mere suggestion. All the elements of Fantin-Latour’s painting were there– melody, articulation, rhythm – but in short bursts that sketched a body in motion.

Part of the immense appeal of Mr. Flanagan’s concerts is the opportunity to be introduced to contemporary artists as well as to brush up on your art history. Who knew that the Impressionist Camille Pissarro had several progeny that were fine artists in their own right? Michael Panther, in his second commission for this series, chose a canvas by Georges-Henri Pissarro, third son of Camille, as a departure point for a piece that uses French traditions – sensuous melodies, exotic harmonies, pastoral folk dance- to illuminate a lakeside scene at change of seasons. The work of Pissarro’s fourth son, Ludovic-Rodo, was also on display in Edmund Campion’s terrific Le Grand Écart. Alternating compositional styles and violin registers mirrored Pissarro’s chalk drawing of a dancer in full split. As in Mr. Campion’s case, the brevity of the commissions and their relationship to a specific work of art allowed the composers to narrow their focus and strike at the heart of inspiration.

As if his plate were not already quite full enough, Dan Flanagan the composer was also on display. An Animated Street in Autumn, alternating between frenzy and quietude, and LeGato au Chocolat, an homage to the feline in charge of Mr. Flanagan’s household, served as vehicles for the violinist’s profound talent. He is a composer’s dream, an imaginative and reliable conduit for the vast array of musicians whose contributions he solicits.

This iteration of The Bow and the Brush included performances of several solos from the 2023 tour, all of which are worthy of repeated hearings, in particular Shinji Eshima’s The Collection, for sheer beauty and fluidity, and Libby Larsen’s, The Only Way Through is Slow, for finding novel solutions to this unusual format. My only recommendation for the future of this series is to trim the program even further. Mr. Flanagan’s natural generosity is admirable, but more compositions means more repetition, especially in the area of extended technique. Still, I found this time around even more enjoyable than the first. May there be many more generations of this wonderful program to follow.

Julia Johnstone, soprano

Artyom Pak, Piano

William R. and Irene D. Miller Recital Hall at the Manhattan School of Music, New York, NY

May 9, 2023

On May 9, 2023, soprano Julia Johnstone was presented in recital at the William R. and Irene D. Miller Recital Hall at the Manhattan School of Music in partial fulfillment of her Master of Music degree. Ms. Johnstone is a student of Ashley Putnam and coaches with Artyom Pak, who was her excellent accompanist. This review is based on a video recording of that recital.

The concert opened with a rousing rendition of Mozart’s concert aria Alma grande e noble core. I was immediately struck by the beauty of Ms. Johnstone’s voice, which is strong in all registers. The chest voice and the head voice blend perfectly, with no sign of the “break” which plagues so many female singers. Her high voice is produced with ease and her chest voice is strong and rich. Her coloratura is confident and sure. I would have liked to have heard more dynamic contrast between stressed and unstressed syllables of her Italian. Occasionally an isolated short note seemed to be imperfectly supported, which resulted in a slight insecurity of intonation. This latter issue seems to me to be something which she could easily correct, considering her fine technique.

The Mozart selection was followed by four songs by Liszt on texts by Schiller, Goethe, and Heine. I had to look up the names of the poets, as they were not listed on the program (more about this later). These songs were mostly slow to moderate in tempo. I would have liked more variety in the expression of the language. For instance, the opening words of Freudvoll und leidvoll, (happy and sad) sounded the same. A difference in tone color, vibrato, or dynamics would have been appropriate. While Ms. Johnstone obviously has studied German, more attention to vowel sounds – more distinction between the closed “u” of “du” and the open “ü” of “blühn” (in Mignon’s Lied) for instance, would have provided a more expressive rendition of the language. Die Loreley provided a vehicle for Ms. Johnstone’s fine dramatic sense which, no doubt, serves her well in the operatic repertoire.

After intermission we heard three songs by Francis Poulenc on poems by Louise de Vilmorin. On the first song, Le garçon de Liège, Ms. Johnstone seemed to be somewhat overbalanced by the piano. This was the only time in the concert when this happened. The final song, Aux officiers de la garde blanche, was particularly effective, as the sorrow of unrequited love became increasingly more poignant with each verse.

The recital ended with four songs by Benjamin Britten on poems by W.H. Auden. These songs, composed in 1937, when Britten was twenty-four years old, provided welcome exuberance after the brooding melancholy of the French set. As the words were in English, there was no printed text. This was problematic, as I will explain in the next paragraph.

The care which Ms. Johnstone took in her musical preparation was not reflected in the printed program. This is perhaps more the job of the staff of the Manhattan School than that of Ms. Johnstone. For the songs in Italian, German, and French only English texts were provided. This is a problem for several reasons. Having both texts side by side makes it possible to know where in the English text the singer is at any given moment. No matter how good a singer’s diction is, it is difficult to understand the texts of songs as they are being sung, whether or not the listener knows the language. Vowels are always modified on very high notes and there are often several notes one syllable, just to cite two challenges. The names of the poets, with the exception of Louise de Vilmorin, were not given. Another issue is the fact that Köchel and opus numbers were not given.

Singing at Ms. Johnstone’s high level is extremely difficult. Learning Italian, French and German, which all conservatory students in voice must do, is no easy task. Stage presence, acting, and movement are daunting. Making a printed program is easy. It makes me sad to be so critical of an event featuring such a fine singer. Ms. Johnstone has a big talent which she has worked diligently to cultivate. It seems that, in respect to the creation of the printed program she deserves to be better served by her school.

The encore was Pure Imagination from Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse.

Deke Sharon, Conductor and Creative Director
Special Guests: Major Attaway and T.3

Kaila Mullady, Vocal Percussion
Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 24. 2024

On March 24, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presented the 2024 edition of Total Vocal, led by the incomparable Deke Sharon. Special guests were Major Attaway and the trio T.3. Kalia Mullady was the vocal percussionist (or beat-boxer if you prefer, even though Deke Sharon tells us they are not exactly the same thing!). The participating groups were St. Mary’s Academy SAIMARAC, Pop Voices, The Head of School Singers, Pop Chorus, Atlantic Harmonies Youth Choirs, Woodson High School Unaccompanied Minors, CDNIS Community Choir, Forte A Cappella, Squad Harmonix, Sheppard Academy of Vocal Arts, and Antigo High School Canto Voce. Seven decades (!) of vocalists were represented in those groups.

Deke Sharon, arguably the leader of the world of a cappella, is a force of nature. He was the host, the conductor, and ringmaster – and even performer, as he sang Dave Matthew’s Crash Into Me, dedicating it to his wife. He did it all with enough energy for ten people. He was also the arranger of nearly all the selections and the writer of the program notes (and if he ever tires of a cappella, he has a ready-made new career in humor writing).  As if that were not enough, he offered his email (deke@dekesharon.com) for anyone to contact him who wants to sing in a group, with the promise he would find a place for them. In essence, Deke Sharon is Total Vocal.

Mr. Sharon bounded onto the stage and called out to the chorus, “Are You Ready?,” which was answered with a resounding “YES!” Without any further hesitation, the huge chorus launched into a spirited performance of the Journey classic Anyway You Want It, with a level of energy and spirit that set the tone for the entire show. U2’s Beautiful Day followed, with seventeen soloists and two vocal percussionists. Normally I would not list so many names, but this is not an ordinary occasion, so here they are: The vocalists were Alaina Manzo, Ava Jolie, Mayu Yamashita, Elana Vennard, Sam Coleman, Elise Derman, Tracy Booth, Yula Andrews, Helen Kay Tierney, Jaimie Volkaerts, Gemma Henbest, Katie Volkaerts, Ruby Cooney, Scarlett Carville, Ava Gad, Calliope Condo, and Sydney Korpusik. The vocal percussionists were Asten Oh and Easton Verano. The massed chorus also offered a thoughtful Nobody Like U (Billie Eilish/Finneas O’Connell) from Turning Red.

The first of two featured ensembles, The Head of School Singers (affectionately referred to by its members as HOSS), hailing from Nashville, Tennessee, took center stage. Looking sharp in matching blazers, these young men gave a polished performance of John Legend’s All of Me. Complete with choreographed moments and excellent ensemble, including some amazingly rendered close harmonies, it was exceptional, and more so when one considers these are high schools students. Well done, gentlemen! The second featured ensemble, Forte A Cappella, from Centerville, Ohio, showed the winning form that has garnered them awards galore. Their rendition of Human Nature (Steve/Porcaro/John Betti) made famous by Michael Jackson, had a slick sophistication that was truly exceptional. Once again, these are high school students!

There were numbers that focused on “higher voices” and “lower voices.” The former was The Chain, one of the many “break-up” songs from the Fleetwood Mac hit album Rumors, and it was given an energetic performance.  The latter was Rocky Mountain High, the John Denver classic, done with heartfelt sincerity.  Vocal Percussionist Kaila Mullady whipped the audience into a fever pitch with a stunning exhibition of her skill during her solo segment.

On to the special guest artists. Major Attaway, probably best known for his role as the Genie in the Broadway production of Aladdin, gave a powerful performance of Steve Miller’s Fly Like an Eagle that was strongly reminiscent of Seal’s cover. The New York-based T.3 (the “T” meaning tenor), whose members are Liam Franklin, Jim Hogan, and Brendan Jacob Smith, offered three selections, Bring Him Home (from Les Misérables), when the party’s over (Billie Eilish/Finneas O’Connell), and Into the Unknown from Frozen 2. These talents “turned up the dial” as they progressed through their set, bringing the audience to a frenzied state. The audience exploded into an ovation when they tore into the last notes of Into the Unknown.

All the artists joined together for a showstopping performance of the final song on the program, Stevie Wonder’s Sir Duke. One could see audience members singing and swaying along to the music. The “mandatory” encore, The Lion Sleeps Tonight ended the show on a joyous note. If you want an afternoon of unbridled fun and the pleasure of seeing people of all ages having the time of their lives, then Total Vocal is the ticket for you. Be there in 2025!

Leslie Dala, Marc-André Bougie, and Peter Tiboris, Conductors
New England Symphonic Ensemble

Preston Hawes, Artistic Director/Concertmaster

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

March 23, 2024

MidAmerica Productions, led by founder Peter Tiboris, presented the excellent New England Symphonic Ensemble in a concert March 23, 2024, at Carnegie Hall. Three well-loved masterpieces, Mozart’s Coronation Mass and the Overture to The Marriage of Figaro, Beethoven’s monumental Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67, and the New York premiere of Marc-André Bougie’s Magnificat formed the program. Choruses from Arkansas, North Carolina, Texas, and Canada (Vancouver, BC) joined the New England Symphonic Ensemble for the Coronation Mass and the Magnificat. This was MidAmerica’s 1,482^nd concert worldwide, 1,146^th in New York, and 691^st in Carnegie Hall.

Leslie Dala took the podium to conduct Mozart’s Mass in C major, K. 317, commonly known as the Coronation. It does not seem that Mozart composed this mass for a specific coronation. The Imperial court in Vienna gave the mass this nickname in the 19^th century after it became the preferred music for coronations and other imperial occasions. The nickname was included in the first edition of the Köchel catalogue of Mozart’s works in 1862. The program notes tell us that Mozart used material from this mass in future works (most notably in The Marriage of Figaro), but I would like to add that Haydn also alluded to this rich material in the slow movement of his Symphony No. 98 in B-Flat major (a nearly identical quote of the Agnus Dei).

Mr. Dala led with a light touch, projecting the exultant quality of Mozart’s conception. It’s easy to see why this work became a favorite, and it still sounds (245 years after its composition) as fresh as if it had just been written. Kudos to the New England Symphonic Ensemble for showcasing that “freshness” with what seemed to be a practiced ease. The chorus was solid throughout.

The vocal soloists – soprano Brittany Hebel, mezzo-soprano Emily Hughes, tenor Minghao Liu, and bass-baritone Andrew Dwan – all have impressive performance credentials, so it was not surprising that all were exceptional in their respective roles.  All had strong projection, precise intonation, and clear diction. What was truly notable was their ensemble. If one did not know better, one might have thought that they had worked as a group for years. No one voice dominated the others, which is more unusual than one might expect. This listener was completely taken with this, which took an otherwise “good” performance into the “great” category.

After the Mozart, Marc-André Bougie (b. 1976) took the podium to conduct the New York premiere of his seven-movement Magnificat. As the composer wrote in the program notes, he wanted to create something original while following in the footsteps of his great predecessors in their settings of the Magnificat. I can state that Mr. Bougie was successful in this goal. Mr. Bougie writes in a strict tonal manner, but with interesting harmonic and rhythmic twists more closely associated with 20^th century music. The first movement (Magnificat) was filled with joy and enlivened with syncopation. It reminded me of John Rutter, but not in a “copycat” way. Soprano soloist Alaysha Fox was a revelation. Her exquisitely controlled vibrato, strong projection, and crystalline voice, especially in the upper register in the Quia respexit and Esurientes, were highlights for this listener. This might be a controversial opinion, but I believe the success of this work relies to a great extent on how well the soprano soloist deals with the challenges of the demanding solos. Let’s not forget tenor soloist Suchan Kim, who was a force and a star in his own right in the Lord, now dismiss your servant movement. The New England Symphonic Ensemble was (again) superb. The chorus was well prepared, and having Mr. Bougie’s own home chorus (who had already performed the work) no doubt was an added benefit. The Gloria Patri, which employs the opening theme of the first movement built to a triumphant finish. The audience gave Mr. Bougie a well-earned ovation.

After intermission, Maestro Tiboris took the podium. Mozart’s Overture to The Marriage of Figaro was given a sprightly, felicitous reading. One might say it was “dessert before dinner.” Dinner took the form of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67, which followed. So much has been written, and so much lore is attached to this work, that one could fill volumes – “Fate knocking on the door” and “V for Victory” (the first four notes corresponding to the letter V in Morse code: …- ) are two of the best-known. Those opening four notes might be the most recognizable in the entirety of music – even those people who know nothing about music know the “da-da-da-duh!”

About those four notes – I have heard the musical equivalent of a twenty-car pile-up by some top-notch orchestras (who I will not name) for what seems to be the simplest of openings. Spoiler alert: it is not simple. Maestro Tiboris led with a decisive hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief as those opening bars were strong and precise. This set the tone for the rest of the work. I have written in earlier reviews about my admiration for Maestro Tiboris’s minimalist approach – no histrionics or sweeping gestures – and my opinion remains the same. He knows his orchestra is highly capable and does not feel the need to “over-conduct.” That’s not to say he is not engaged. When it is necessary he is demonstrative and demanding. This worked especially well for this performance. This listener has a nearly half-century love of this symphony and still gets a thrill out of hearing a fine performance. The audience reacted with a loud and extended ovation for Maestro Tiboris and the New England Symphonic Ensemble. Bravo!

Maestros Dala and Bougie joined Maestro Tiboris on-stage for a final bow. Congratulations to all!

Twelve Preludes and Fugues (Nos. 13–24), Book II from

24 Preludes and Fugues, op. 87 – Dmitri Shostakovich

Regina Shenderovich, piano

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

March 8, 2024

Eventbrite advertising drew a small but attentive group of listeners to Marc A. Scorca Hall on March 8^th for a rare treat: a performance of the second volume of Preludes and Fugues by Dmitri Shostakovich, a documentary project reserved for pianists of exemplary mettle and inner strength. The success of such an undertaking in a live concert also involves forging a delicate sense of trust with the audience, who must process complicated (although beautiful) details for more than eighty minutes without intermission. The pianist Regina Shenderovich, self-reliant and supremely up to the task, sat at the side of the stage until concert time, introduced her own program chattily without a shred of nervousness, and turned her own pages, emerging at the end of this test of fire as fresh as if she could quite happily have repeated the show.

Would that the life of the composer had been so unafflicted. Shostakovich spent his days in apprehensive contemplation of the fate that would befall him if the authorities should deem his music offensive or “formalist,” worthy of political imprisonment or even execution if he overstepped arbitrary creative boundaries. The favorite aesthetic insult could be interpreted and manipulated by any committee of bureaucrats; but a direct phone call from Joseph Stalin to Shostakovich overrode all threats when the Soviet Union needed a spokesperson at the Cultural and Scientific Conference for World Peace in New York in 1949. Shostakovich complied and was safe, but never recovered from his psychological scars.

The 24 Preludes and Fugues were written in 1950‐51 for the young Tatyana Nikolayeva, winner of the bicentennial International Bach Competition in 1950. Nikolayeva performed them until the very end of her life, from memory and in pairs of concerts. In 1993, I flocked to the 92^nd Street Y with a cohort of students to sit bravely through both concerts of one cycle, sheepishly realizing that some preparation might have illuminated this transformative experience. Two weeks later, Nikolayeva left our world, having suffered a cerebral hemorrhage while performing the Preludes and Fugues in San Francisco.

The individual pieces, modelled on the much shorter originals of J. S. Bach, are organized not in rising half tones but in the manner of Chopin’s Preludes, by ascending fifths and relative minor keys. They are an effective staple of the repertoire of students and concert artists and satisfy expressive as well as mathematical cravings. Presented as a collection, they are more forbidding. The first fugue of the second book, near the outset of the concert, is a five-voice challenge in F-sharp major. Shostakovich alludes constantly to Bach while venturing into the ethos of the postwar (and Cold War) Soviet Union, with a churning, punctuated waltz (D-flat major), tremolo figures and monolithic church themes (E-flat minor), giddy passagework in every range of the keyboard (B-flat major), and Brucknerian architecture building to a cataclysmic eruption of reinforced octaves (D minor), in a cathartic climax that could incite an instant standing ovation if played to a full house.

Ms. Shenderovich hails from St. Petersburg’s Special Music School via Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Illinois. She bears an unusual likeness to the youthful Nikolayeva. An artist of prodigious musical resources, she brings out the fluidity of lines with sophisticated textural layering, subordinating basses to an infinitely colored right hand, and launching into pyrotechnical finger-twisters without fear. Particularly memorable were F minor with its poignant major/minor thirds à la Josquin, and dreamy F major with its Bach transcription-like sincerity and optimism. Where Nikolayeva capitalized on an imposing authority, Ms. Shenderovich lets us know we are always in good hands but never oversells her wares. She has a promising future with this tour de force if she decides to invest the time to memorize a daunting program, and if she can find a brilliant publicist.

Steering clear of the darkness and pessimism in the Preludes and Fugues may have obliterated traces of irony and sarcasm essential to Shostakovich, but at the same time Ms. Shenderovich appeared to be healing his pathological undertones with a much-needed, soothing balm.

Fall of the Weimar Republic: Dancing on the Precipice
David Witten, piano; Christine Lamprea, cello; Sue-Ellen Hershman-Tcherepnin, flute; Michael Roth, violin
Italian Academy – Columbia University, New York, NY
March 6, 2024

In the tumultuous aftermath of World War I, the Weimar Republic emerged as a melting pot of artistic innovation, and its music became an important reflection of the era’s social upheaval and cultural transformation. Deep in the exuberance of the 1920s and early 1930s, the music of the Weimar Republic encapsulates a unique blend of influences, from avant-garde experimentation to works that directly referenced political turmoil.

Tonight’s program featured four composers whose careers were thriving in the vibrant cultural scene of the Weimar Republic. Their musical expression was closely tied to the immediate social transformations of the time, especially those composers who fled in the mid-1930s due to the looming threat of the Nazi takeover.

The first piece on the program for solo piano was the Piano Sonata (1924) by Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971). This work had its world premiere at the Donaueschingen Summer Music Festival (Donaueschingener Musiktage), the first European festival dedicated to contemporary music. However, this is a work that saw Stravinsky heading in a new direction. The “neo-Baroque” style is apparent- pianist David Witten described it as “Bach with a head cold.” The lean writing in the first movement was handled with care and the sinewy lines were played with a suppleness that one craves in Baroque writing. As Mr. Witten stated, Stravinsky “atones for his sins” of dissonance and angularity in the final cadence. The second movement reminds one of an arioso of Bach, perhaps a nod to the Italian Concerto, BWV 971. The improvisatory quality came through with the constant pulse of the left-hand and the florid right-hand lines. However, this could have benefited from a calmer pacing. The third movement soared with a two-voice counterpoint throughout – the final long pedal tone, another Baroque technique, led us to the end where Stravinsky leaves the listener in a satisfying state of tonal harmony.

The next composer, Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco (1895-1968), was an Italian-born composer who dedicated much of his life to being a film composer after he fled Europe to the United States in the early 1930s. The pieces performed tonight are titled Greeting Cards – they are musical “cryptograms”- each dedicated to a friend of his. Mr. Witten was joined by cellist Christine Lamprea for the first piece, Valse for Violoncello and Piano on the name of Gregor Piatigorsky (1954). The piece was tender and haunting, and Ms. Lamprea communicated clarity of tone and the sensuousness of the dance beautifully, and, of course, the nod to Tchaikovsky was a cheeky sorbet among some of the more adventurous harmonies. The following four works were for solo piano. Für Erna (1956) was played with warmth and had rich and surprising harmonies – a short and sweet homage. The following piece was more substantial, Etude on the name of Jacob Gimpel (1955) where Mr. Witten describes the melodic theme tainted by a dissonant note, as if it were a magnet leading the listener there. This etude was performed with command where the right hand’s whirling figures could be seen as romantic and cinematic. The ending communicated a mystical feeling. Ninna Nanna (Cradle Song) (1952) is not a “Greeting Card” but a lovely canonic lullaby – a sensitive performance. The final piece on the first half of the program was La torre del diavolo (1960). This dramatic piece had thoughtful pacing and effective rumbles from the bass.

After a short intermission, we were treated to three pieces by Paul Ben-Haim (1897-1974), a German composer who also fled Europe to Tel Aviv in 1933. Much of his composition is inspired by and references Jewish and Sephardic music traditions. Mr. Witten was joined by flutist Sue-Ellen Hershman-Tcherepnin for these three pieces. The first, Arioso, had a drone accompaniment in the piano which was heartbreaking, perhaps personifying the weariness of a summer’s day – the flute melody had a languid quality and was performed by Ms. Hershman-Tcherepnin with ease. Ballad was hypnotic and the rhetorical elements of the oral tradition of storytelling were clearly communicated in the flute part. Sephardic Melody is based on a traditional folk tune from the Sephardic-Jewish tradition. It had a melismatic, guttural, and free cadenza which communicated an ancient quality in the music with a mournful tone. The improvisatory and decorative piano part was played with great freedom but never sacrificing ensemble – it was a very moving piece.

The final selection on the program was another work that was premiered at the Donaueschingen Summer Music Festival, the Concerto da Camera, Op. 33, by Alexander Tcherepnin (1899-1977). This evening it was performed as a trio with violin, flute and piano as arranged by the composer himself. Mr. Witten was joined by Michael Roth on violin and once again by Sue-Ellen Hershman-Tcherepnin on flute.

The first movement, Allegro maestoso, had lean writing and a unison rhythm. The ensemble was committed to communicating the drama of the work although every now and then the pulse became somewhat unclear. The contrasting section was more playful. This short movement ended suddenly with a dramatic restatement of the main theme. The second movement, Andantino, had a somber opening and the interplay between the parts was the feature. The repeated metronomic rhythm in the violin and flute seemed to communicate the monotony of time. This dark and humorless movement was quite effective. In contrast, the third movement, Vivace, was full of energy. The work was performed with a subtle severity which could have been exploited even more. The middle section had an eerie nostalgia performed with great sway, and the unassuming ending worked very well. The last movement, Allegro molto, had great rhythmic vitality and the ensemble was able to display virtuosity and convey the dissonances in a compelling way.

This performance of works from the era of the Weimar Republic is an excellent example of why musicians should continue to explore new works constantly. Aside from the Piano Sonata by Stravinsky, all these works were new to this reviewer, and I’m sure as well to many of the audience present this evening. The commitment to this music by David Witten is admirable and I look forward to hearing more works by these composers performed by him and his colleagues. It is also exciting that the festival Fall of the Weimar Republic: Dancing on the Precipice curated by Carnegie Hall will be ongoing until May. I hope to be able to attend some of those concerts in the near future. Bravo to all!

Walter Aparicio

Şahan Arzruni, pianist and musicologist

The National Arts Club, New York, NY

March 5, 2024

The National Arts Club this week hosted one of the most engaging lecture recitals in memory, as Armenian pianist and musicologist Şahan Arzruni discussed and performed music by Armenian women composers. He featured the composers (listed chronologically here) Lucy Hazarabedian, Koharik Gazarossian, Sirvart Karamanuk, Gayane Chebotaryan, Geghuni Chitchyan, Alicia Terzian, Sirvart Kazandjian, and Mary Kouyoumdjian. Their compositions ranged in date from 1879 to 2020, but thematic origins go much further back in the case of the Alicia Terzian piece, based on the melody Zarmanali e ints (“It is amazing to me”), which is an eighth-century chant known to be composed by a woman and still sung in Armenian churches today. It is, according to Mr. Arzruni, the world’s earliest extant example of music created by a woman (whether that woman was Khosrovidukht, as most believe, or Sahakdukht, as others maintain). So, given that chant, the evening could be said to have spanned over a millennium of music by Armenian women.

All of this history would be interesting to any musician or Armenologist, but it was the talented and passionate Şahan Arzruni who brought it all to life for us on Tuesday. An octogenarian now, he projected more of the spirit of exploration than many teenagers. His excitement over his various discoveries was contagious. Having reviewed him in 2016 in a benefit concert he played to raise funds for an Armenian home for the elderly, I already knew of his ceaseless work for Armenia, but his honors and distinctions have only grown, too many to enumerate, so the reader is encouraged to visit his website (Şahan Arzruni ). A CD of the music we heard is in the works, and based on what I heard I’ll be looking out for it.

Mr. Arzruni opened with three of the Six Preludes from 1948 by Gayane Chebotaryan (1918-1998), whom he called the grande dame of Armenian music. As Gayane Chebotaryan was also a musicologist who wrote about the music of Aram Khachaturian in 1969, shades of Khachaturian’s sound in her music seemed not too surprising; apart from that, there was also a highly individual bluesy quality to the opening selection, and Mr. Arzruni drew his audience into its inviting tonal world. The third selection brought to mind hints of the Polovetsian Dances of Borodin (not too surprising, as the old region of Polovtsi – also known as Cumania – abutted Armenia), and Mr. Arzruni played it winningly. He finished this opening set with élan.

Moving to our time, we heard the Ode to Vahan (1996) by Alicia Terzian (b. 1934), an Argentine composer of Armenian descent who at Mr. Arzruni’s request based her work on the abovementioned eighth-century chant; don’t be misled, however, into thinking that the chant’s sacred spot in the liturgy made Terzian’s work a peaceful one. Ode to Vahan is a probing and troubling work, opening with explosive bass clusters on the piano and combining recorded sounds –  spoken and choral – to haunting effect. When one learns the devastating story behind the chant, the drama is more graspable, but there will be no spoilers here. The reader will simply need to read the CD liner notes when the time comes. Meanwhile, Mr. Arzruni is to be commended for taking on such a challenge and playing it with mastery.

Zigzagging back another half-century, the recital continued with Koharik Gazarossian (1907-1967), who was greatly influenced by her experience copying scores by Komitas, the “father of Armenian music” (whose exile during the Armenian Genocide had also resulted in the relocation of his manuscripts, hence the need for copying). Two of a set of four of her pieces from 1947 were included, My Child, Your Mother Is Dead and Your Name is Shushan. The first was of course funereal, with even just its title too unbearable to hear – while the second piece seemed to reflect more the folk influence of Komitas, who had gone to great lengths to collect original Armenian music, as Mr. Arzruni explained. This reviewer, for one, felt inspired to explore further.

Sadly there is no way to condense a dissertation’s worth of information into this review – or to replicate Mr. Arzruni’s skill as raconteur, but suffice it to say that his gifts in that area made this already revelatory evening still more of a delight. His personal experiences with several of the featured composers colored the drier scholarly information, and though he would say “this is neither here nor there” about a digression, his human interest tidbits did much to bring the composers closer to us. Mr. Arzruni is no stranger to the world of pure entertainment, after all, and it should be remembered that he was once the “straight man” (and collaborative pianist) for the great Victor Borge. He repeatedly checked the audience’s pulse with, “How are we doing?” – and it was so refreshing after many concerts in which the audience has felt like an afterthought; exactly like Borge, however, Şahan Arzruni’s gift for humor works alongside a considerable musical gift that is not be taken lightly.

The next composer included, and the youngest was Mary Kouyoumdjian (b. 1983 in Beirut of Armenian heritage), currently part of the New York Philharmonic’s Project 19 (a multiyear initiative to commission new pieces from 19 women composers). Ms. Kouyoumdjian’s piano piece, I Haven’t the Words (2020), was written in response to the pandemic along with the growing social and political unrest of that year, and the music left this listener feeling exactly the sentiment of its title. Repeated eighth note patterns in expanding intervals created an almost nightmarish spell – and not through harsh cacophony but through cumulative musical tension. The composer was present to take a bow with Mr. Arzruni and was given an enthusiastic ovation. Many will certainly want to attend the premiere of her new work by the New York Philharmonic on May 10th.

A total break from our time came with The Nightingale of Armenia (1879) by Lucy Hazarabedian (1863- c.1882). Hazarabedian was, Mr. Arzruni speculates, probably the first female composer of Armenian piano music. Though The Nightingale of Armenia is simply a friendly little polka created when the composer was just sixteen and first published in an almanac in 1913 (long after the composer’s untimely death), it was certainly a welcome touch to have something from the nineteenth century on the program, and Mr. Arzruni played its century-overdue premiere with charm.

Following the Hazarabedian miniature came a spontaneous-sounding Dance-Song (1965), composed by Mr. Arzruni’s maternal aunt, Sirvart Karamanuk (1912-2008). It was given an energetic performance and was followed by The Bells of Ani (1971) by Sirvart Kazandjian (1944-2020), from Ms. Kazandjian’s volume À ma Patrie (To my Homeland). Though Ms. Kazandjian was actually born in Ethiopia where there was once a strong Armenian community, her myriad bell sounds spoke from her Armenian heart, built to a huge climax, and left a feeling of tragedy in the aftermath. Mr. Arzruni was an excellent advocate for the piece, as he was for each one on the program. Though it is hard to believe in this day of information overload that much of this Armenian music remains virtually unknown, Şahan Arzruni is here to remedy that, among other missions.

The program closed on an “up” note with the Sonatina (1986) by Geghuni Chitchyan (b.1929). As things seemed to be running late, Mr. Arzruni quipped “I’m gonna play as fast as possible” – and he did just about that! The little piece breezed by, with its energetic neo-classical opening, beautifully lyrical central movement, and jaunty last movement with hints of humor à la Shostakovich. It was a strong ending to an inspiring evening.

One could only feel grateful for what was a life-affirming reminder – even from such a troubled region in a troubled world – that the greatness of Armenia is here to stay. Zarmanali e ints, indeed. It is amazing to me.

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!