The Hilton Head Symphony Orchestra and The Hilton Head International Piano Competition present Chang-Yong Shin

Chang-Yong Shin, piano

2016 Hilton Head International Competition Winner

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 19, 2016

The Hilton Head piano competition presented its latest first prize winner, Chang-Yong Shin, in a well-attended recital at New York’s Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall on Saturday afternoon, and what a stimulating afternoon it was. Mr. Shin has that rare ability to generate visceral excitement just by playing his instrument. He alternates between extreme fire and melting sensitivity, each of which gains by contrast to the other. Naturally, he has technique to burn. I found some of his forte dynamics strident in the small confines of Weill, but then I thought if he had tempered them, some other element of his presentation may have suffered. He has what Adele Marcus used to call “the big line”: a clear idea of every piece, every movement, and every phrase within the movement. Once a section begins, it travels on its own stream of energy that never flags; he does not “tear apart” phrases in search of detail, everything is integrated.

He began with Bach’s Toccata in D major, BWV 912. Anyone who has read my work knows that I love Bach on the modern piano. Mr. Shin seized every opportunity to use the “toccata” for its intended message—a) to show off the player’s dexterity and touch variety, and b) display a learned contrapuntal sensibility. These very early keyboard works of Bach are not programmed nearly as often as they deserve, but then one needs a Mr. Shin to bring them to bold, crisp, exciting life.

There followed Busoni’s fiendishly difficult Sonatina No. 6, subtitled Kammer-Fantasie über Bizets ‘Carmen’ (also commonly called Fantasia da Camera super Carmen) . I’m not sure what the “chamber” dimension is in this piece, which is resolutely a piano solo. Mr. Shin revealed (with Busoni’s help of course) the entire tragic unfolding of the opera in just nine minutes. His lyrical playing was absolutely superior, and the mysterious death-haunted ending was perfect. He also brought a genuine sense of playfulness, as though enjoying his own ability negotiate the score.

The first half concluded with Beethoven’s Sonata in A major, Op. 101, a test of any pianist’s maturity and depth. Again, Mr. Shin rose to every challenge, but he was particularly affecting in the Langsam und sehnsuchtsvoll (Slowly and full of longing) third “movement,” which proceeds directly into the exultant final sonata-fugue, where his energy was exuberant. His phrasing in the strictly canonic central section of the second movement was scrupulous, one doesn’t often hear it; however, I found the outer sections too rambunctious (though convincing).

After intermission, Shin gave the first movement, Los Requiebros (Flirtatious Remarks), from Granados’ piano suite Goyescas. Granados died when the channel ferry ship Sussex was torpedoed in the English Channel by the German submarine UB-29 on March 24, 1916. He had returned to England successfully from conducting his opera (also called Goyescas) at the Metropolitan Opera, but was on the Sussex as it was heading to France. Here Mr. Shin handled the ornate piano writing, never missing where the main melodies were, and clarifying every bit of this daunting piano writing. At the teneramente e calmato section, Mr. Shin managed to create an oceanic oasis of calm at the center of what had been very “busy” writing—it was breathtaking.

He closed with Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata, in B-flat major, Op. 83, the middle sonata of the three “war” sonatas (World War II). This is music of almost unbearable anxiety, fear, and violence. Again, the inner fire of Mr. Shin was appropriate to the message of the piece. However, I found his most successful movement to be the central, lyrical one, Andante caloroso (warmly proceeding), that resembles a nostalgic romance one might sing after too many vodkas, and then becomes elevated and ultra-tragic, with alarm bells ringing obsessively, before the “inebriated” song returns, with a final disquieting bell. The outer movements really were exciting, despite the brutality of the sound—I never heard Gilels or Richter make a harsh sound in this work, but they were completely authentic in terms of musical message. (Yes Mr. Shin, you’re being spoken of in the same breath as Gilels and Richter.)

(Aside to all young artists: At the risk of sounding like a broken record, PLEASE provide program notes. If you aren’t comfortable creating them yourselves, hire someone who is. Also, this program didn’t even have sections or movements of works indicated.)

Mr. Shin favored the enthusiastic audience with two well-deserved encores: the Schumann/Liszt Widmung song transcription, played with maturity and lyricism; and the Liszt Transcendental Etude in F minor, which was wild, but again created a visceral thrill such as we don’t often get from typical “competition winners.” Keep studying with the best, Chang-Yong, and nurture that beautiful talent you have.

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Warren Lee

Warren Lee, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 17, 2016

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY), as a part of its Artist Series, presented pianist Warren Lee at Weill Hall on November 17, 2016. In a program with works by Bach (in arrangements by Busoni), Beethoven, Chopin, Tan Dun, and Mr. Lee himself, it was to prove a rewarding evening.

Mr. Lee ( www.warren-lee.com ) has an impressive resume as a contest winner, performer, composer, and teacher, and through his engagement in charitable outreach . He has been a Steinway Artist since 2009.

Opening with two Bach-Busoni works, the Choral Prelude, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, BWV 645, and the Chaconne from Violin Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004, Mr. Lee established his authority immediately. This was principled playing, with careful attention to voicing and articulation. Some might find his approach to be too rigid, but this listener would disagree. Mr. Lee presents what might be an excellent example to students on what constitutes an intelligent interpretive approach to this music. There were some moments of the left hand sounding heavy, something that I am wont to attribute to the Weill Hall house piano, as I have numerous other examples of this being the case from previous recitals with the same instrument. In any case, these small moments hardly detracted from what were superior performances of which Mr. Lee can feel proud.

Eight Memories in Watercolor by Tan Dun (b. 1957) followed the two Bach works. These early works, a sort of “East meets West” (with Debussyan influence throughout), were written when the composer was twenty-one. Mr. Lee played these charming miniatures with the same reverence as he did the Bach, which probably served the works better than they served him. It was a pleasant ending to the first half.

Opening the second half, Mr. Lee offered one of his own works, entitled Three Novelettes. Written in 2015, the three pieces (Reflection, Levity, and Blossom), are dedicated to Robert L. Blocker, Dean of Music at Yale University. Mr. Lee writes in his program notes that Reflection pays tribute to the many ways Mr. Blocker inspires those around him; Levity, his fun-loving and humorous side, and Blossom his infectious warmth. These pieces were an interesting bookend to the Tan Dun, as the style was quite similar (though I did detect some kinship with York Bowen’s Preludes as well in Levity!).

Beethoven’s monumental Sonata in E major, Op. 109 followed. This work presents many challenges, not the least of which is a distinguished performance history by some of the legends of the piano. Mr. Lee suffered no complexes, as he delivered a performance of intelligence and sensitivity that reminded one of Alfred Brendel. It was the highlight of the evening for this listener.

Closing with Chopin’s Barcarolle in F-sharp major, Op. 60, often called the “Fifth Ballade,” Mr. Lee played with a bright tone and a freshness of sound that sparkled without a hint of labored effort.

Mr. Lee is obviously very much at home with the works on this program. He has thought through his approach to the finest of details and executed those details with exact precision and no elements of display. One must not take this as saying that Mr. Lee is lacking in technical prowess, as he has more than enough digital facility to negotiate any challenge, but that he does not make his technique “front and center.” If anything, he gives the appearance that it is all so very easy, and to the viewing public more used to seeing demonstrative motions (often to the point of histrionics), he might not get his proper respect.

Mr. Lee opted for a most unusual choice as his encore, a truncated arrangement of the opening movement of the Grieg Piano Concerto in A minor. This was not exactly what most would consider “encore” material, but the audience found it to be thrilling and gave Mr. Lee a standing ovation.

Daniel Adam Maltz, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall: New York, NY

October 23, 2016

Those acquainted with my reviewing style know how earnestly I try to nurture artists—that there are always positive things to be observed. That being said, a few dozen people, mainly family and friends, turned out for Mr. Maltz’ recital, which is probably a good thing, for it was not quite “ready for prime time.” I suspect there’s a great deal of poetry and musical creativity lurking in this young man, but his pianism isn’t fully formed enough or consistent enough to allow him to express it unblemished by memory lapses, wrong notes, notes that don’t sound, thin tone, and a lack of deep-in-the-keys finger legato. He did retain his composure, however, and that in itself is admirable.

His stage presence is stiff, though I did appreciate that he wore white-tie-and-tails, which isn’t seen so much anymore.

His opening group, Schumann’s lovely Kinderszenen, had the above-mentioned flaws from beginning to end. I couldn’t tell if it was opening jitters, but things didn’t really improve. This is not music “for” children, but rather about childhood viewed through the poetic prism of the adult. The composer was only six years older than Mr. Maltz when he wrote it.

Chopin’s Second Impromptu, Op. 36 in F-sharp major followed, and pleasingly, there was light and brilliant jeu perlé fingerwork in the thirty-second note section just before the end (so difficult to do!), though this impressive bit was undercut by wayward phrasing. Elsewhere, the piece suffered from eccentric rhythmic disruption and lack of legato. Mr. Maltz followed this with Chopin’s Third Ballade, Op. 47 in A-flat major. Again, the numerous slips and eccentricities marred what I’m sure could have been a probing account of this once-ubiquitous work.

After intermission came the D minor Fantasy of Mozart, K. 397, a work that comes as close as any to what listening to Mozart improvise may have been like. The D major concluding portion was tacked on at a later date, and I’ve never felt like it really “belongs” there. Mr. Maltz had much delicacy, and caught the questing, improvisatory spirit well, although again, with a deeper legato and better phrasing, he could have said more with these deceptively few notes.

In conclusion, he offered the Beethoven Bagatelles, Op. 126, Beethoven’s final works for piano solo. These “trifles” are anything but—in them Beethoven seemingly engages in dialog with the cosmos and the creation of new ideas of aural “space.” Here, Mr. Maltz was at his very best, he seemed unified with the music, the composer, himself, and the instrument. He sank deeply into the keys for the most satisfying tone of the evening. Here, his personality really emerged, and I could see what he might become in a few years. (He is only twenty-two, after all.)

His biography says he is a champion of the music of his father, Richard Maltz, a composer. It would have been stimulating to have included some of that, rather than one of the more standard works. I do hope he won’t let himself be discouraged by my response to this one performance. What is important is to keep going, and to keep learning.

 JPMorgan Chase & Co. and the Sander and Norma K. Buchman Fund present

The Sphinx Virtuosi

Isaac Stern Auditorium/Ronald O. Perelman Stage at Carnegie Hall

October 20, 2016

The Sphinx Virtuosi delivered another of their brilliant, fierce, dedicated, and inspiring programs on Thursday night, celebrating the eve of their twentieth year of standing as a sort of rebuke to the hidebound institutions of classical music—insisting on representation, participation, education, and development of Black and Latino musicians. For those who don’t know, the Virtuosi are composed of eighteen string players, all laureates of the Sphinx Competition, yet another part of the organization’s total outreach. The Virtuosi play as a conductorless chamber string orchestra. The sum total of all Sphinx Organization activities is much more important than any one concert given: may their efforts not only thrive but increase.

The program had a very single-minded focus on this occasion: Viajes Latinos (Latin Voyages). It sought also to redress an imbalance of programming that usually favors only standards, by presenting music of various South American composers (and one Spanish, one Mexican), though some of those are pretty much household names by now. In fact, my only wish would be that they had strayed farther afield into even more obscure music, even by the well-known names.

To attend a program of all-Latin music, one had best have made one’s peace with ostinati, since the lion’s share of the works possess this motoric drive. I could have wished for more meditative works, but I realize that generating excitement has a mission too.

The program began with Astor Piazzolla’s well-loved Libertango, played with rhythmic snap and great sound, although this arrangement robbed the tango of some of the bite that is usually present when bandoneon or piano are employed. Attraction and repulsion are the essence of the tango.

They followed this with the Mexican composer Javier Alvarez’ Metro Chabacana, named for and commissioned by (!) a subway station in Mexico City. (How about it MTA: Bryant Park Blues?) This was beautifully played, and one could hear the pulse of urban life both above and below ground.

The Last Round, for the unusual instrumentation of two “competing” string quartets and one “moderating” double bass, by Osvaldo Golijov followed. It was inspired partly by the death of Piazzolla, and the antagonism of the tango found its metaphor in the two quartets, who traded sultry moves between them, while the bass contributed rhythmic punctuation. Its concluding section, the mournful part, was absolutely haunting.

A phenomenal young violinist and recent prize winner, Hannah White, then took the stage to blaze her way through the only true novelty of the evening: César Espejo’s Prélude Ibérique, for unaccompanied violin. Espejo, from Spain, lived most of his life in France. His work carries figurations from Bach, with important mixtures of flamenco and even tzigane (gypsy) thrown in. White commanded every bit of the work, with perfect intonation, technique, flair, swing: in short, everything one could ask for from a violinist, of any age.

Heitor Villa-Lobos is also a name that really needs no introduction. In this section of the program, the “heart” of the Sphinx group, a quartet named Catalyst, performed the famous Aria from his Bachianas Brasileras No. 5. Despite perfect playing, I felt the piece was robbed of a bit of its humanity with the lack of the human voice soaring over its long lines. This led me to wonder about the inclusion of winds and voices to the Sphinx agenda. Is it possible, or have they already beat me to it?

The Catalyst group then segued directly into another Piazzolla “hit”: La Muerte del Angel, originally part of a movie score. Here the quartet was in stunning form, with elegiac sound, and great flexibility due to listening intently to each other (a property possessed by the entire Sphinx group: if I were to make a bad pun, I’d call them “Black Orpheus,” but that would short-change the Latinos.).

After a concise but moving video of the program’s influence and mission, some remarks were made, and an award was presented to a major patron, Robert F. Smith, the first African-American chairman of the board of Carnegie Hall.

The concert then concluded with a fiery account of Alberto Ginastera’s Finale furioso from his Concerto per corde, Op. 33 (an arrangement of a previous string quartet). The energy was almost unbearable, in a good way! The audience, refreshingly composed of many younger faces of color, leapt to its collective feet.