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Key Pianists presents Peter Takács: The Beethoven Experience—Late Beethoven in Review

Key Pianists presents Peter Takács: The Beethoven Experience—Late Beethoven

Peter Takács, piano; Soovin Kim, violin; Virgil Hartinger, tenor

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 14, 2016

January is only two weeks old and already there is a litany of loss: Pierre Boulez, David Bowie, Alan Rickman, and many more unheralded. Now I must selfishly mourn the end of this satisfying mini-overview of Beethoven’s music provided by master pianist Peter Takács. He brings old-world virtues of golden singing tone, and myriads of shifting colors based on his keen knowledge of every chord and its relative weight and where every phrase is headed. Nothing clinical, cold, or “post-modern perfect” about this pianist, thank goodness. We have enough of that.

Instead, as I have noted previously, we have a soul who has entered deeply into the creative act “beside” Beethoven, as it were. He reveals it freshly every time, risks and all. The sense of struggle was always a key feature not only in Beethoven’s compositional practice, but also in his dealing with life events such as the obvious: deafness, and the subtler: fight for financial security and emotional fulfillment. We shouldn’t want to air-brush that tension away.

It was good of Mr. Takács to begin the concert with Beethoven’s true swan-song for solo piano, the set of six Kleinigkeiten, Op. 126 ( Bagatelles, or “Trifles”). These miniatures, as distinct from his prior two sets (Op. 33 and Op. 119, mainly written and published for money) may be small in length, but they are giant in visionary power. One hears glimmers of many of the late-period processes being tossed about, from hearty stomps to melting lyricism to transcendent spatial insights and echoes across alpine valleys. Mr. Takács observed the con moto indications found in them, to give a more earthy view, less freighted with mysticism than usual.

The yearning for a “lost Arcadia” (as Maynard Solomon points out in his excellent book Late Beethoven: Music, Thought, Imagination) is often symbolized by Beethoven’s use of G major as tonality. We had that in two of the above bagatelles and in the second work on the program: the delightful and underplayed Violin Sonata No. 10 in G major, Op. 96. A product of Beethoven’s Archduke Rudolph “period,” if you will, it switches from the pastoral to the spiritual in the blink of an eye. Violinist Soovin Kim was excellently subtle and poised as a partner, without losing any enthusiasm where it was needed. The two musicians were perfectly aligned in concept and execution. The fourth movement rondo with variations was particularly touching in its disinclination to say “goodbye,” consisting of several attempts at an ending, finally bursting forth in joy.

After intermission, Mr. Takács utilized another collaborative artist, the sweet-voiced lyric tenor Virgil Hartinger, in the innovative song-cycle An die ferne Geliebte, Op. 98 (To the Distant Beloved). This was the first interconnected cycle ever, paving the way for subsequent works by Schubert and Schumann. The words were written by Alois Isidor Jeitteles, probably at Beethoven’s request, and are full of the tropes of Romanticism: separation, longing, nature. Can we still identify with these sentiments in an age of Skype, Snapchat, and the rest? I certainly hope so.

“Nimm sie hin denn, diese Lieder,/Die ich dir, Geliebte, sang. . .” (Take you then these songs/Which I sing to you, Beloved) goes the sixth and final song. It proves a fitting motto for what Mr. Takács has been saying to us all fall and winter. Mr. Hartinger grew on me: his demeanor was generally still, which I appreciated—no histrionics—although I did find some issues with diction, legato, and the sudden dynamic shifts required, perhaps just stiffness, for when he got to the fifth and sixth songs, the “money shot,” he was very moving, and provided vivid contrasts and much more emotional involvement.

To conclude, Mr. Takács scaled the Everest of the last piano sonata, Op. 111, in C minor. Claudio Arrau always taught that one should never divide between the hands the treacherous opening double octave for the left hand alone that descends a diminished seventh, that it would minimize the sense of Herculean struggle. Mr. Takács did not divide two of the three, and he missed both of them. Folks, I’m here to tell you, it’s okay. It’s not what happens, it’s how you continue that is the mark of the true artist. In a way, the whole movement was dominated by Mr. Takács’ grappling with some memory issues. However, each time something repeated he nailed it with truly Beethovenian determination. In the Arietta (the second of only two movements) he created the spiritual stillness of the theme gorgeously, and each variation, spun like heavenly weaving out of the one before, worked its magical effect. I am reminded of Alfred Brendel’s note to Op. 111 about the final cadences that withdraw quietly to silence: “a silence that we now perceive to be even more important than the sound which preceded it.”

Thank you, Peter Takács, and may I issue a challenge? That you return soon and often, with the other twenty-seven piano sonatas, all the piano-based instrumental chamber music, and all the variations, miscellaneous pieces, and Lieder. That ought to keep Mr. Takács and New York nourished for quite some time!

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

DCINY (Distinguished Concerts International New York) presents Deborah Popham, soprano in Review

DCINY Distinguished Concerts Artists Series presents Deborah Popham

Ben Harris, piano

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 7, 2015

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) is renowned for their large-scale concerts featuring artists from around the globe, but what might not be as well known is they also present talented small ensembles and soloists in their Distinguished Artists Series. The latest featured artist in the series was soprano Deborah Popham, who appeared in recital at Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall on December 7, 2015.

For the sake of full disclosure, this reviewer was not present on that date, but was sent an unedited recording of the performance. As I have stated in the past when reviewing recorded concerts, my modus operandi is to listen a single time as if I were present, believing this to be the most objective manner in which to review.

The first thing one notices when viewing the program is that Ms. Popham has selected an eclectic mix of works- the first half consisting of songs from Reynaldo Hahn, Ottorino Respighi, and Sergei Rachmaninoff, the second half consisting exclusively of America composers – Ben Moore, Richard Hundley, Samuel Barber, Irving Fine, and Lee Hoiby. The text for each song was included in the program, with English translations for the Hahn, Respighi, and Rachmaninoff – something that should be a standard, but sadly is rarely done.

Four songs by Reynaldo Hahn opened the program. À Chloris (To Chloris), a song with a Handelian feel about it, provided a lovely opening. One was only occasionally distracted by Ms. Popham’s unusually wide vibrato, which sometimes affected one’s comfort with the pitch. Ms. Popham has a strong voice and a confident approach in the high Romantic works, but one sometimes wanted more delicacy. Quand je fut pris au pavilion (When I was caught in the pavilion) enlivened the mood, while L’enamourée (The Enamored One) – a song with much more Romantic “heart on sleeve” expressiveness, was well suited to Ms. Popham’s expansive style. The set closed with Ms. Popham at her most impassioned in Dans la Nuit (In the Night).

A delightful grouping of Respighi songs from Deità Silvane (Woodland Deities) followed. Highlights were Musica in Horto (Garden Music), which was colorful and exotic, suggesting sounds of little cymbals and flutes, and Acqua (Water), evoking water through tone-painting as Respighi knew so well how to do. The vocal writing exploited the best of Ms. Popham’s upper treble range in phrases that swooned, and Crepusculo (Twilight) captivated with its gentler moments, particularly in the piano part played by Ben Harris. The great forte swells in the vocal part verged on stridency at times, but this is almost an occupational hazard in this repertoire.

The musical language became even more luscious in the Rachmaninoff that followed. Ms. Popham seemed very comfortable with Rachmaninoff’s exquisite vocal writing. The rather early work Ne poj krasavica, pri mne (Do Not Sing, oh Beauty, to Me), Op. 4, No 4, opened this set and was given an outstanding performance by Ms. Popham. Na smert’ chizhika (Spring Waters), Op. 21, No. 8, was also quite beautiful. The extravagant Romanticism of Vesenniye vodi (Death of a Linnet), Op. 14, No. 11, employed some virtuosic writing for the piano, which was well navigated by Mr. Harris, and ended the first half in fine fashion.

A set by American Ben Moore (b. 1960) entitled So Free am I opened the second half. The composer states, “The cycle consists of settings of poems addressing women’s experiences by women authors from various times and cultures,” but also, “To me, this set is not about the oppression of women throughout time, but rather the freedom in being liberated from the ties that bind.” It is really the “ties that bind” which set that theme of liberty in relief. Starting with the exuberant Mutta (by Indian Buddhist nuns) depicting the casting away of restrictions, it was well suited to Ms. Popham’s extroverted temperament. Interlude (text by Amy Lowell) was well sung by Ms. Popham, who captured the shape of the work quite well. Orinda Upon Little Hector Philips (text by Katherine Philips), dealt with the heartbreaking subject of losing one’s child. By this point, one wonders whether the emotional saturation in the program might not have been a case of diminishing returns. Perhaps each song like a gem might have shone more brightly with a bit of black velvet behind it. That said, some relief came in the form of Nervous Prostration (text by Anna Wickham). The Poem as Mask: Orpheus (text by Muriel Rukeyser) was the least effective of this set, through no fault of Ms. Popham. Mettika, a very beautiful setting to a text about growing weak and tired, seemed not a specifically feminine subject, but one of universal appeal. Closing with the words “over my spirit blows the breath of liberty” the spirit of the opening exuberance of the cycle was recaptured.

The last set of songs all centered on the theme of animals, an entertaining idea that was to serve to lighten the mood. Ms. Popham showed a playful, whimsical side, “letting her hair down,” so to speak. It was the musical equivalent perhaps of a “victory lap”, as Ms. Popham had tackled this ambitious program with complete success, and was going to enjoy herself. Suffolk Owl by Richard Hundley (b. 1931) kicked off the fun, followed by Samuel Barber’s much-loved A Monk and His Cat. The Frog and the Snake (text by Gertrude Norman) by Irving Fine (1914-1962) was brimming with humor, and The Serpent (text by Theodore Roethke) from Lee Hoiby (1926-2011) ended the half and the concert in winning style. The audience gave Ms. Popham loud and prolonged applause.

by Jeffrey Williams for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Avalon String Quartet in Review

Northern Illinois University presents the Avalon String Quartet

Blaise Magnière, violin; Marie Wang, violin; Anthony Devroye, viola; Cheng-Hou Lee, cello

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

December 9, 2015

On December 9, 2015, Northern Illinois University presented the Avalon String Quartet at Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall in a program of works by Benjamin Britten, Mieczyslaw Weinberg, and Beethoven’s Op. 130, with the original Große Fuge finale. It was to prove to be a richly rewarding experience.

The Avalon’s members are Blaise Magnière (violin), Marie Wang (violin), Anthony Devroye (viola), and Cheng-Hou Lee (cello). They took to the stage and opened the concert with Three Divertimenti (a work originally intended to be a five-movement work based on a line from Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale) from Benjamin Britten (1913-1976). The work is without opus number, and the program notes state that after a poorly received performance, Britten shelved the work, and it was not performed again in his lifetime. Only the Burlesque is up the standards of Britten’s mature work, the March and Waltz being the products of a talented, but still developing, composer. This is not to disparage the attentive and lively reading from the Avalon – one can even commend them for bringing this work from one the giants of the 20th century to the public – but this work is really more of the curiosity sort.

The String Quartet No. 6 in E minor, Op. 35 (1946), from Polish-born Soviet composer Mieczyslaw Weinberg (1919-1996), followed the Britten. The program notes describe the work as “experimental in form,” having “moments of craziness” and state this work was never performed in Weinberg’s lifetime (it was premiered in 2007). How “experimental” and “crazy” it actually is is a matter of opinion (one that I disagree with on both counts), but one can make the case that the artistic environment in the Soviet Union at the time (particularly the infamous Zhdanov decree in 1948) made anything “experimental” extremely dangerous to the “offending composer.” Add to this Weinberg’s personal situation, being under scrutiny of the authorities (he was the son-in-law of Solomon Mikhoels, who was murdered in 1948 on Stalin’s orders), and later arrested in the “Doctors’ Plot,” Stalin’s last purge before his death. After the danger had passed, Weinberg had probably moved on (he was an extremely prolific composer) and the quartet forgotten. This six movement work clocks in at about thirty minutes, and proved to be a real revelation. It is a work that shows complete mastery of form, is filled with excitement, has interesting harmonic language and poignant melodies, and tests the technical abilities of the players to the maximum. I enjoyed it from start to finish, and I believe the Avalon has the opportunity to set the performance standard for this fine work. If tonight’s performance was any indication, the bar has been set very high. It ended the half in great style.

What immediately made a favorable impression to this listener (and viewer!), was the lack of excessive movement of the players as they played. I have written in the past how much I dislike the sight of watching four people writhing about on stage like fish out of water, and how such histrionics detract from my enjoyment of the music. The players have a certain rapport and no one player outshines the other- a true ensemble. The Avalon is all about the music- their passion comes through in the sound, as it should be!

After the intermission, it was time for the centerpiece of the night, Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 13 in B-flat major, Op. 130, with the Große Fuge, Op. 133. The program notes give an excellent music analysis, one that musicians would appreciate in its detail, but there was nothing to say about why Beethoven wrote an alternate finale and published the Große Fuge as a separate work, other than “upon reconsideration,” which suggested Beethoven was unhappy his original finale. Nothing could be further from the truth! Why Beethoven agreed to his publisher’s request for an alternate finale will never be known for certain, but the most plausible theory was for the need for money (which for Beethoven was always in short supply).

What continues to be remarkable about this work is that it sounds much more “modern” than many works written more than a hundred years later, a testament to Beethoven’s visionary genius. The six movements have no readily discernible commonality, but it nonetheless all “works”. The question was to how the Avalon would handle one of the most famous works in the repertoire, with a rich performance history from some of the most notable string quartets throughout the ages. The answer was “very well indeed!” The first four movements were excellent, but the fifth movement, the Cavatina, was especially moving in the hands of these wonderful players. The Avalon saved their very best for last. The Große Fuge was played with a ferocious intensity, but without the stridency that often mars so many performances. The Avalon was in complete command, confident and assured, as they negotiated the demands of this tour de force with an apparent ease that belied the extreme difficulty. It would stand up to comparison to any other ensemble. The audience gave the players a prolonged standing ovation.

The Avalon String Quartet is a fine ensemble, and one that all true lovers of chamber music should hear. I do hope to hear them again.

by Jeffrey Williams for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

SoNoRo Festival Bucharest 10th Anniversary Concert in Review

The Romanian Cultural Institute in New York and RA Entertainment present SoNoRo Festival Bucharest 10th Anniversary Concert

Diana Ketler, piano; Alexander Sitkovesky and Daniel Rowland, violins; Razvan Popovici, viola; Julian Arp, cello

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 30, 2015

A fervent crowd of Romanians, also celebrating their “National Day” (Dec. 1), was treated to a banquet of late-Romantic works for piano quartet, and one quintet, by the outstanding ensemble players of SoNoRo, based in Bucharest, now in its tenth year. The group was founded to remedy the shortage of knowledge and performance opportunities for fine chamber music in Romania—it has since become an important traveling ambassador. It is formed of a cosmopolitan group of Europe’s outstanding chamber players.

After some sincere speechmaking (a capsule history of Romania, deftly delivered by the consul), the concert began with a rendition of Mahler’s only surviving chamber work, his Piano Quartet in A Minor. Written in his student days (age 16) in one continuous sonata-allegro movement, we “love” the piece anyway, though it doesn’t have the genius of the composer’s world-encompassing symphonies or the profound beauties of his Lieder. The work is indebted mainly to Schumann, but here’s the kicker: in the hands of the SoNoRo players (Diana Ketler, Alexander Sitkovesky, Razvan Popovici, and Julian Arp), who revealed its dark mood with such warm tone, it sounded like a much better piece than it really is.

The pianist for the entire evening was the astonishingly refined and tasteful Diana Ketler, one of the founders of SoNoRo. I have rarely heard such delicacy in the piano part of an ensemble, yet she also rose to occasions of great power easily. Her phrasing was exquisite, and myriad colors were summoned from the often-recalcitrant piano in Weill Hall. The strings were passionate, with full-bodied vibrato, and perfect tuning and ensemble. They indicated both their pleasure in playing and important cues with wonderful visual contact that never veered over into the theatrical. To witness the way each one listened to the others when one of them was not playing was a delight.

After the Mahler, they played Richard Strauss’ only venture into the Piano Quartet repertoire, his Op. 13 in C Minor. Here, unlike in the Mahler, we heard the compositional virtuosity and confidence of the young Strauss, with themes pointing the way to his larger tone-poems and operas in “embryo,” as it were. The Scherzo movement in particular was played with dash and sparkle. The personnel had been changed to a different violinist: Daniel Rowland, who my seat-neighbor said was “very good-looking, like Brad Pitt. That doesn’t hurt!” The work’s four movements brimmed with appropriate longing and were beautifully long-breathed.

After intermission came the Dohnányi Piano Quintet No. 2, Op. 26, with all five musicians making a boisterous mini-orchestra. Its first movement theme (in E-flat minor) seems to me like a subconscious transformation of the Fugue in D- sharp minor from Bach’s WTC book 1 (same key enharmonically). The Intermezzo is a sort of deconstructed salon-waltz that keeps interrupting itself. The Finale presents a very sober fugue in the string quartet group, followed by a chorale or hymn in the piano (again channeling Bach). Again, Ms. Ketler here made the most gorgeous legato tones of those long notes. Then the “Bach” theme from the first movement returns for a grand peroration, which renders the work “cyclic.” In the fabulous hands of SoNoRo, I was reminded how original Dohnányi’s music is, and how much better it deserves to be known, apart from a handful of works that are frequently performed.

For a rousing closer, they played an arrangement by Austrian composer Thomas Wally of Enescu’s (the sole Romanian composer on the bill) Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 in A major, Op. 11. A compendium of folk tunes and dances, when it broke into the whirlwind Hora section with which it concludes, the ensemble was on fire figuratively—truly exciting, wild, and fabulous. The audience roared its approval.

At the turn of the century (19th/20th), Bucharest was regarded as the “Paris of East-Central Europe,” with sophisticates from the French Paris often traveling there. Enescu himself studied at the Paris Conservatoire, befriending Ravel and performing Ravel’s early Violin and Piano Sonata. It is safe to say that with an ensemble like this, a musical pilgrimage to Bucharest would be well worth one’s time.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Messiah…Refreshed!” in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “Messiah…Refreshed!”

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Jonathan Griffith, Music Director

Diana McVey, soprano; Claudia Chapa, mezzo-soprano; John McVeigh, tenor; Christopher Job, bass.

Stern Auditorium, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 29, 2015

‘Tis the season! The post-Thanksgiving “holiday season” is here, with talk of “Black Friday” and “Cyber Monday”, and a never-ending stream of enticements for eager shoppers. In the backdrop of this commercial madness, Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) offered their own enticement to music lovers, their 5^th anniversary performance of George Frideric Handel’s Messiah, in what they call “Messiah…Refreshed!” Using the 1959 Eugene Goossens re-orchestration for full symphony orchestra and with chorus members from Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Kansas, New York, Tennessee, Washington, Brazil, Canada, France, Guatemala, Hong Kong, Russia, United Arab Emirates, and “individual singers from around the globe,” the mood was set for what was to be a special afternoon.

I had the pleasure of reviewing the second anniversary of Messiah… Refreshed! in 2012. I will not repeat the historical background of the work and this particular version here; however, the interested reader can follow the link to read what I had written in 2012- Messiah 2012. What was to be of particular interest to me for this concert was the following: 1) How would the soloists fare with such large forces behind them? 2) How would the 2015 performance compare to the 2012?

Jonathan Griffith took the stage and led this mighty assemblage with the practiced assurance that I have come to take for granted from this fine musician. Maestro Griffith never resorts to any histrionics, but one can see how hard he is working at the podium and how much he brings out of his performers. From the clear direction he gives to the orchestra to the sure hand with which he guides the chorus, his expertise is always in evidence in what is not at all an easy task.

DCINY Messiah … Refreshed!

Let’s answer the second question first. What was apparent to me was the greater restraint shown by the percussionists, as opposed to the much more extroverted 2012 edition. The orchestra playing was polished, exuberant without excessive bombast, and showed that continued performances of this work are sure to show continued deepening. It was still “big” without being “big and clumsy.” It should be interesting to follow the continued evolution of future Messiah performances from DCINY.

The vocal soloists were more than equal to the dual challenge of dealing with their extremely demanding parts while projecting above and through the wall of sound behind them. Soprano Diana McVey, who was announced as a last-minute substitute, deserves bonus kudos. Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion was the highlight of her solos. Mezzo-soprano Claudia Chapa probably had the most difficult task, as her range often finds itself swallowed by the large forces in the orchestra, but she projected well throughout. She wrung every drop of despair out of He was despised, in what was the highlight of her solos. Tenor John McVeigh’s voice soared throughout with complete assurance. It is not easy to single out one solo for special mention, but Behold, and see if there be any sorrow, was my favorite. Bass Christopher Job was a powerhouse. His Why do the nations so furiously rage together? showed his skill to great advantage.

The chorus was well prepared, and their diction was remarkable, especially when considering that English was likely not the first language of a large number of the chorus members.

One cannot speak about Messiah without mention of the Hallelujah chorus. This listener has been to many DCINY concerts, so I knew very well what was to come. Both second and third tiers were filled with singers, ready to rise on cue. Yes, I knew that that was coming, and when it was to occur – and yet when it did, I was still floored! The magnificent sound of over 400 voices filling the hall as the audience stood (many of those in the audience singing along) washed away my most stubborn attempts to be jaded. Over the top? Perhaps. Thrilling? Absolutely! The audience must have felt likewise, as the thunderous applause at the end of the chorus continued for several minutes.

What follows this is almost an anti-climax, yet the final chorus Worthy is the Lamb that was slain was also given the grand treatment. This time it was the audience that got caught in the excitement and began to applaud at the grand pause that precedes the extended “Amen” from the chorus. The Amen was a glorious ending to a glorious performance. The audience applause was immediate in what quickly became a thunderous ovation. Congratulations to all for a truly uplifting concert experience.

by Jeffrey Williams for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Sung-Soo Cho in Review

Sung-Soo Cho, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 27, 2015

If only people flocked to recitals the way they throng the retail outlets on “Black Friday,” they would have been treated to an exceptional young artist of great promise. Sung-Soo Cho looks all of age twelve, but he is probably double that, considering that he is pursuing a doctorate and also teaching at the college level.

The entire recital was extremely well-prepared and played, with abundant mechanical gifts fully displayed in a wide-ranging program (Haydn to 21st century). But technique wasn’t the whole story: Mr. Cho manages to phrase very musically, and definitely has an “ear” for refined piano color and a wide tonal palette. I could only have wished that some of the program had been a bit less controlled, that he had conjured up the sense that he was communing with the instrument and the music more spontaneously—a place he did arrive by the end of the program.

Mr. Cho’s specialty, according to his bio, is contemporary American piano music. Indeed, the finest performance of the evening was his mesmerizing rendition of John Corigliano’s Fantasia on an Ostinato, which refers, through layers of texture, to the Allegretto movement from Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. In this work, which Mr. Cho made sound much better than it really is, his coloration and sense of organization and drama were superb. The work is indebted to the “minimalist” movement for much of its gesture, but it is a language that Corigliano speaks somewhat “maximally.” Here Mr. Cho was in perfect union with the composition and the piano.

Mr. Cho also brought a beautiful sense of “space” to the Distance of the Moon (a New York premiere) by Michael Ippolito (a student of Corigliano).

Haydn’s Sonata in B Minor, Hob. XVI: 32, which began the recital, was played with great flair and crisp articulation, though in a work so compact I missed the repetitions of the expositions (and possibly even the recaps) in the first and third movements. Let us not treat Haydn as a mere appetizer.

Mr. Cho showed a marked sensitivity to the subtlety of so-called Impressionist French repertoire, playing three Debussy Préludes from Book II with perfect sonority. Les fées sont d’exquises danseuses, in particular, featured “exquisite dancing” of nimble, delicate fingers over the keys.

Before intermission, Mr. Cho barnstormed his way through Liszt’s concert “paraphrase” of Verdi’s Rigoletto. He managed its fierce business with great musicality, perhaps the only thing missing would have been a slightly “grander” air about the whole—surely that will come as he matures.

The final work on the program was Brahms’ compendium of pianistic difficulties: the Paganini Variations, Op. 35, played in its entirety. Here I really felt that Mr. Cho let go and showed us more of himself. He varied the voicing and color of each repeat wonderfully, and at the same time managed to make the piece sound “easy.”

All in all, a successful debut. Just a note, as anyone who reads my reviews regularly knows: If you are giving a recital in a major New York hall (or really anywhere), it is NOT ACCEPTABLE to have no program notes, especially when there are unusual works or premieres on the program.

Mr. Cho favored the audience with a fun encore: A Gliss Is Just a Gliss by David Rakowski.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents The Music of Dinos Constantinides in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents The Music of Dinos ConstantinidesIn Homage to the University of Macedonia – Greece

Yova Milanova and Dimitris Chandrakis, violin; Michael Gurt and Maria Asteriadou, piano; Athanasios Zervas, saxophone; Dimitris Patras, cello

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY

November 20, 2015

The music of Dinos Constantinides is so well-crafted that it is easy to forget the sophistication behind it. A generous helping of his chamber music was offered, played by numerous musicians of Greek descent. On this evening, the performers were uniformly excellent, which afforded the reviewer the opportunity to focus on the (mostly) merits of the music, confident that it was receiving the best possible rendition, both in terms of technical achievement and emotional commitment.

I see by this program that Mr. Constantinides has a catalogue system now, the “LRC” numbers. I’m assuming that the early numbers represent the earliest compositions. These, notably the Piano Trio No. 1 and the Sonata for Violin and Piano, both heard here, are in the astringent “12-tone” style that composers “had” to adopt in order to be taken seriously by academia back in the post-WWII climate until about 30 years ago. Luckily, such restrictions are a thing of the past, and Mr. Constantinides’ style is more poignant and expansive when he uses folk or folk-inspired material from his homeland.

However, in both the Sonata and Trio, Mr. Constantinides uses the “tone row” in a very “romantic” way, full of yearning lines and often beautiful sonorities. He also builds arch or three-part forms that are easily graspable by the ear. Sometimes the gesture is more important than the notes of which it is composed.

For me, the standouts of the evening were two. First, the Fantasia for Stelios and Yiannis, a duo for violin and cello. It had a sombre, elegiac quality, doubtless inspired by the homesickness for friends from his school days who have passed away. It was lovingly rendered by Dimitris Chandrakis and Dimitris Patras.

Second, the China IV—Shenzhen, Concerto for Cello and Piano. This long-titled work was beautifully played by Mr. Patras and the vivid (sometimes too loud) pianist Maria Asteriadou. A cadenza-like section played by cello alone with pizzicato notes and sustained legato simultaneously was gorgeous. It did indeed behave like a concerto and not a sonata for cello and piano. This is an interesting genre to add to the possibilities of the chamber music repertoire; and I wouldn’t mind hearing the piano part orchestrated. Mr. Constantinides is a great re-fashioner of his own works.

I always like to ask myself with regard to programmatic music: If some future musicologists were to find the manuscripts with the titles cut off, would the music be appreciable on its own? In terms of China IV, the answer is a resounding yes, although if I hadn’t seen the title, I would have had absolutely no image of a modern Chinese city. The same was true of the dazzling Celestial Musings for alto saxophone solo. It was brilliantly played by Athanasios Zervas, but musically there was really no recognizable symbolization of earth, air, fire, and water, except to take the composer’s own sincere note.

The presence of solo saxophone in a concert of chamber music is unusual. Played with such versatile virtuosity as it was here, it would be a welcome added resource, to be heard more often. The Recollections for solo saxophone was lively, involving hearty foot-stomping.

Ensemble was absolutely excellent between Yova Milanova and Michael Gurt in the Landscape V for violin and piano and the Sonata for violin and piano. Cellist Patras was passionate in the Ballade for the Hellenic Land for solo cello. The tiny Dialogue for violin and cello was wittily and deftly dispatched by Mr. Chandrakis and Mr. Patras. Only the Impressions II for alto saxophone and piano seemed a bit “dramatic” (as was noted by the New York Times some years back), I’d have to say a bit overly so, almost wild, and perhaps just a bit overblown. It broke into a sort of humorous “drunken” waltz twice, a tone that struck me as inappropriate in light of what had been established. Perhaps I’m just not on Mr. Constantinides’ wavelength here.

All in all, a distinguished concert indeed. I’m certain Mr. Constantinides’ composition students are very fortunate to have such humane guidance from a musician who obviously has a lot of heart. He took the stage humbly at the end, visually a sort of cross between an elf and Santa Claus, and remained mostly with his back to the audience, thanking his wonderful performers for bringing his visions to life.

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

Larry Weng in Review

The Stecher and Horowitz Foundation Presents New York International Piano Competition Laureate Pianist Larry Weng in Recital

SubCulture, New York, NY

November 19, 2015

Rainy November evenings may not be ideal for New York concertgoers, but when the concert includes several works by one of the leading composers in the U.S. (along with related mainstays of the repertoire) and is played by exceptional young pianist Larry Weng – and at a casual downtown venue with refreshments – the picture can change rapidly. I had a hunch that I might be rewarded for wading through endless puddles.

For starters, the program included piano works by U.S. composer Lowell Liebermann (b. 1961), a tantalizing prospect. Mr. Liebermann’s works are beautifully idiomatic for the instrument, as the composer himself is a pianist steeped in the keyboard tradition; in addition, Mr. Liebermann is so prolific that, despite his presence on many programs, one always has the sense of barely scratching the surface of his output. To see two substantial works of his on one program is not too frequent, but we had that chance here with Mr. Liebermann’s Three Impromptus, Op. 68 (2000), and his Four Etudes on Songs of Johannes Brahms, Op. 88 (2004) framing Intermission. Bookending these were the opening works, Four Impromptus, Op. 90 of Schubert and the Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13 of Schumann to close – a beautifully balanced combination of the familiar and the new, and with interesting connections among them.

Larry Weng is a musician whom I’d had the pleasure of reviewing previously with particular praise for his Schubert (Aldo Parisot presents Larry Weng in review). On this occasion, his Schubert Impromptus were as thoughtful and well wrought as anyone who heard his NY Debut would expect. Here, his interpretations seemed more orchestral than vocal in conception (complete with some left hand “conducting” during right hand solo lines). His playing illustrated well his own comment from the stage about Schubert’s accompaniments, coloring the same melodic tones differently on different iterations, with different ambiance. Each of the four pieces enjoyed a balance between local color and broad overview, showing polish and sensitivity. The fourth, though, must be singled out for a leggiero touch that went beyond lightness, not feathers but nanofibers – a treat to hear!

The Liebermann Impromptus that followed were introduced by Mr. Weng as possessing certain similarities to Schubert’s. It was ingenious programming by the artist, to engage the audience in such comparative listening – even if the title “Impromptu” leaves things wide open to enable “apples and oranges” comparisons. The Liebermann pieces are naturally quite different (as one would hope, given nearly two centuries’ time difference), exploiting the keyboard’s full range in register, tonality, and dynamics, with much virtuoso writing. Mr. Weng gave them highly compelling performances.

As for Schubertian parallels, more than any similarity to Schubert’s Impromptus, one was struck by an extended, transformed reference to Schubert’s Moment Musical No. 2 in A-flat Major at the beginning of the first Liebermann Impromptu (or so it seemed, without the aid of any Program Notes). From this Schubertian kernel, the music took off into great pianistic flights of imagination. Mr. Weng played it brilliantly, as he did all three. He left the audience in a stunned state at the set’s haunting ending.

After Intermission, we heard Mr. Liebermann’s Four Etudes on Songs of Johannes Brahms, Op.88 (2004), songs of great romance and longing. These seemed really more Brahms than Liebermann, but in either case were welcome, especially in such a soirée-type milieu (and as preludes to Schumann). The Brahms originals are stunningly beautiful, with texts of longing, loss, love, harps and violets, including “Muss es eine Trennung geben” (Op. 33, No. 12), “Es tönt ein voller Harfenklang” (Op. 17, No. 1), “An Ein Vielchen” (Op. 49, No. 2), and “Eine gute, gute Nacht” (Op. 59, No. 6). Anyone who has tried to transfer lieder from voice to solo piano knows what art is required, but Mr. Liebermann’s distribution of these melodies and accompaniments flying across registers appeared to be quite a challenge, more than justifying the title “Etudes.” Much of the originals’ beauty came across in Mr. Weng’s able hands.

Schumann’s Symphonic Etudes, Op. 13, capped off the evening with bravura, despite some glitches. Many pianists go a bit adrift in the Finale, but some messiness elsewhere could perhaps be chalked up to some excessive speed – or possibly a bit of fatigue from the many demands of the rest of the program. In any case, Mr. Weng is a pianist from whom one expects the best, and there were some great moments, particularly the “duet” right before the Finale. The closing spirit was robust, and a cheering audience elicited an encore of the Bagatelle No. 5 in G Major from one of the most moving sets by Beethoven, his Op. 126.

Big congratulations go to Larry Weng and to the Stecher and Horowitz Foundation for this memorable evening.

by Rorianne Schrade for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Scott Watkins, Pianist in Review

Scott Watkins, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 10, 2015

American pianist Scott Watkins performed music of Bartók, Hanson, and Debussy last weekend, in a program that was well suited to his particular pianistic and musical gifts. A keen intellect was immediately apparent in his opener, the Piano Sonata Sz. 80 (1926) by Béla Bartók (1881-1945), which drew upon his laser-like focus, faultless memory, and considerable analytic grasp. It was bold and bracing in its relentless rhythms without ever devolving into the earsplitting harshness that one so often hears in this piece. Though many advocate unleashing the beast in this work (a product of the “barbaric” period of the composer’s life), pacing and control are still important – and one can appreciate so much more of the composition if one is not covering one’s ears! Thankfully, Mr. Watkins showed judicious control and steadiness, but with plenty of stamina. For this listener, a fan of Murray Perahia’s recording of the work, it might have benefited from even more imaginative orchestral color, but it was certainly outstanding.

The rest of the first half consisted of a remarkable discovery (or rediscovery), the Piano Sonata in A Minor, Op. 11 (1918), by the prominent American composer Howard Hanson (1896-1981) in its first New York City performance. According to Hanson’s own notes, the Sonata was first performed in 1919. Unpublished for nearly a century, the work enjoyed some attention in a different incarnation around the year 2000, when pianist Thomas Labé made his own lushly Romantic completion of the piece from an unfinished manuscript and recorded it for Naxos; timing was not on Mr. Labé’s side, however, because after all that work, another manuscript surfaced, this one complete, and the Eastman School of Music acquired it in 2007. It is this second discovery, the original, which Mr. Watkins performs and has also recorded. Though it is impossible to “unhear” Mr. Labé, who channeled the composer’s style well, one naturally wants to experience Hanson’s actual composition, and Mr. Watkins makes that possible, with excellent attention to detail and respect for the score. This listener sometimes longed for more of a sense of emotional involvement, as the piece has a highly personal expressiveness about it, reminiscent of MacDowell or Grieg; on the other hand, it is not easy to make a heart-on-sleeve approach convincing in such a youthful work without it degenerating into schlock. Some musicians like to downplay the excess while others embrace it, and Mr. Watkins chose the more restrained approach, with the fidelity of a music historian.

Mr. Watkins is currently Associate Professor of Piano at Jacksonville University, and since 2011 he has held the position of Visiting Foreign Scholar at Beifang University’s Conservatory of Music and Dance in Yin Chuan, China. Along with an active career including collaborations with prominent musicians such as violinists Eugene Fodor and Hillary Hahn, he holds a doctorate from Florida State University and clearly has a scholarly bent. It was therefore not so surprising that his playing emphasized the more cerebral qualities in each work.

Debussy’s Préludes Book II were a good match for Mr. Watkins’ gifts. Despite the tendency of many pianists to use the excuse of “impressionism” to run wild and drown some of these twelve pieces in pedal, we know that Debussy was against such abuse, and Mr. Watkins gets it right. He plays with the requisite clarity, but with great sweeps and washes of sound when required. These were excellent performances.

There was delicacy in Bruyères and a haunting quality in Feuilles mortes. Mr. Watkins is an undemonstrative player, but the music spoke for itself. A “straight man” approach in fact enhanced the fun of “Général Lavine” – eccentric and Hommage à S. Pickwick Esq., P. P. M. P. C., as one might expect.

Les tierces alternées (No. 11) was also a highlight. Mr. Watkins was extremely impressive in his handling of its exposed technical challenges. While it is not this listener’s favorite Prélude, it took a prize for sheer digital prowess. Only Les fées sont d’exquises danseuses disappointed a bit, sounding a tad heavy for fairies, but allowances must be made for a bright piano. Feux d’artifice (No. 12) was a brilliant close, played with vivid imagination and fire. All in all, it was a highly praiseworthy concert – a fulfilling musical evening.

by Rorianne Schrade for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Triptych: A World Without End in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents Triptych: A World Without End

Distinguished Concert Singers International; Fullerton Chamber Orchestra

Alicia W. Walker, Robert Istad, DCINY Debut Conductors; Kimo Furumoto, director; Tarik O’Regan, DCINY Composer-in-Residence

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 15, 2015

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) is an organization that has made it a mission to bring to the public music of the immortal masters together with works by talented contemporary composers. In a concert entitled Triptych: A World Without End, works by Mozart, Haydn, Stravinsky, and Bartók were paired with those of Daniel Elder and Tarik O’Regan. Featuring singers from California, Missouri, New Jersey, New York, South Carolina, and others from throughout the United States, in addition to the Fullerton Chamber Orchestra of Fullerton, California, it was to prove to be yet another DCINY success.

Before the concert, an announcement was made in which audience was asked to observe a moment of silent reflection in response to the horrific terrorist attacks in Paris on the evening of November 13^th. A quotation from Leonard Bernstein was apt: “This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.”

DCINY Debut Conductor Alicia W. Walker took the podium and led a fine performance of Mozart’s Missa Brevis, K. 192. The playing was crisp and bright, and the chorus was well-balanced, singing with precise diction. Special mention goes to soprano Tina Stallard, mezzo-soprano Janet Hopkins, tenor Walter Cuttino, and bass Jacob Will, for their admirable work both as soloists and in ensemble with each other. It was an auspicious start to the afternoon.

A World Without End by Daniel Elder (b.1986) in its World Premiere for Chamber Orchestra followed the Mozart. Employing the English translation of the Te Deum from the 1549 Book of Common Prayer for its text, it is scored for chorus and brass sextet (2 trumpets, 2 trombones, horn, tuba), with organ and percussion, a compelling instrumentation. It is a work that mixes the old with the new, the old being, according to the composer, the more “taut” and “principled” writing for the brass, while the new is the freely composed, harmonically and rhythmically modern vocal writing. Kudos go to the brass players, who, by some regrettable omission, were not credited in the program. Their playing was incisive and often arresting. This reviewer (and brass player) enjoyed it immensely. The large chorus was well prepared and their ensemble was strong throughout. Dr. Walker is to be congratulated for the skill in which she led this piece; it was a persuasive performance of a remarkable work.

After intermission, Kimo Furumoto bounded on the stage to lead the Fullerton Chamber Orchestra. An animated conductor, Mr. Furumoto radiated his energy to the ensemble, which responded in kind in delightful performances of works by Haydn (the Overture from Armida), Stravinsky (Eight Instrumental Miniatures, arrangements of “five-finger” piano pieces Stravinsky wrote for budding pianists), and Bartók (Román népi táncok – Romanian Folk Dances). The wind players shone particularly in the Stravinsky, with nimble playing in the demanding passagework, tossed off with ease. After the last note of the Bartók, the string players all held their bows in the air as if suspended in time, until Mr. Furumoto lowered his baton, much to the delight of the audience.

After a short pause, Robert Istad took the podium to conduct the final two works of the afternoon by Tarik O’Regan (b. 1978), The Ecstasies Above, and Triptych. The Ecstasies Above uses text from Edgar Allan Poe’s poem Israfel, about an angel briefly mentioned in the Qur’an, a four-winged master musician whose stance reaches from the earth to the pillars of the heavens. It is highly complex work, scored for two vocal quartets representing, according to the composer, the songs of the angel, a string quartet representing Israfel’s heart constructed of lute strings, and a chorus representing the song of the stars. It is not an easy work to grasp on a single hearing, but nonetheless packs a powerful emotional punch. To quote an audience member seated directly in front of me, “It makes me want to cry, it’s just so beautiful.” This simple statement means more than any complicated musical analysis, and one with which I am in complete agreement. Dr. Istad was an able leader in conveying the power of Mr. O’Regan’s work.

Triptych was originally two separate works (the first consisting of one movement) commissioned for two separate choirs a year apart from each other. The works were joined together in 2005 to become Triptych. The three movements, Threnody, As We Remember Them, and From Heaven Distilled a Clemency, focus on the ways we perceive death. Mr. O’Regan has chosen eclectic texts for his work, William Penn, Muhammad Rajab Al-Bayoumi, William Blake, and Psalm 133 from the 1611 King James Version of the Holy Bible for the Threnody, Roland Gittlesohn for As We Remember Them (with a short epilogue from John Milton), and Rumi, William Wordsworth, 9th century Indian Bundahisin, and Thomas Hardy for the From Heaven Distilled a Clemency.

Threnody opens with the chorus alone, but launches into highly charged and pulsating writing, with the text presented in what the composer calls “collage style.” As We Remember Them is heartbreakingly poignant, especially the “call and answer” between the soprano soloist, Kathryn Lillich, and the chorus. From Heaven Distilled a Clemency is full of energy and drive, culminating in the declaration of the closing text from Rumi “Why then should I be afraid? I shall die once again as an angel blast.” These words end the work in triumph. The audience was visibly moved, and many had tears in the eyes as they rose in a standing ovation. It was a powerful end to an outstanding concert. Mr. O’Regan came to the stage and had to be prodded by Dr. Istad to take a bow, appearing to be somewhat embarrassed by the acclaim.

Congratulations to all the performers. In a world of madness, even if for only a few hours, music triumphed. Lenny would have been proud.

by Jeffrey Williams for New York Concert Review; New York, NY