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

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

Key Pianists presents Peter Takács: The Beethoven Experience—Middle Beethoven
Peter Takács, Piano
Guest artist: Robert deMaine, Cello
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
November 12, 2015

 

Peter Takács continued his admirable Beethoven series, this time focusing on works of the “middle period,” during which Beethoven swore to “take a new way.” Indeed he did, the works are much larger, exploratory, reveling in virtuosic figures and lyrical profundity, interrupted by mysterious keyboard recitatives.

The great thing about this evening was its palpable feeling of lived experience through the music, and passion. Mr. Takács sweeps away any sense of routine or intellectual concept (driven by the past thirty-some years of so-called historically informed performance practice). We aren’t thinking about metronome speeds or nit-picky articulation with Mr. Takács, only emotional meaning. Every single note, even in the brutally rapid passage work, sings. His demeanor at the keyboard is very quiet, economical, never showy or grandstanding.

He opened with the middle sonata of the three from Op. 31, nicknamed the Tempest, supposedly because Beethoven, always annoyed at being asked what his pieces “meant,” growled: “Oh, go read Shakespeare’s Tempest!” No matter, the work was revealed as a romantic struggle of opposites, mysterious sonorities and pleading melodies. Played with more elasticity than customary, Mr. Takács took his own “new way” convincingly.

He was then joined by the excellent cellist Robert deMaine (principal cellist of the Los Angeles Philharmonic) for a transcendent reading of the Cello Sonata No. 3 in A major, Op. 69. Both players shared the same approach, with Mr. deMaine’s passionate expansion mirrored in Takác’s finely detailed partnering. The short introduction to the finale was tear-inducing. The pair also brought out the weirdly obsessive qualities inherent in some of Beethoven’s writing in this, the latest composed of the works on this program.

After intermission, Mr. Takács insisted on playing the Andante favori, WoO 57, (originally intended as the slow movement to the Op. 53 Waldstein sonata) before the actual Waldstein, without interruption. It was an interesting idea, beautifully executed, although since Beethoven actually thought better and removed it from the sonata, I felt it was almost “too much,” especially to hear it before the immense sonata itself. In the Andante, Mr. Takács created a wonderful sense of spatial atmosphere, as though music were being heard across a mountain valley, especially in the poignant coda.

We may now say that Mr. Takács has “climbed K2” after this performance of the Waldstein, and when he completes this series in January with Op. 111, he can be said to have “conquered Everest.” His Waldstein was played with visceral excitement. The phrasing in the Rondo finale was particularly gorgeous. His solutions to the nightmarish glissando octaves in the same finale were ingenious and incredibly soft. All-in-all, a wonderfully lived performance of a touchstone that can all too often just sort of “go by” in the hands of other pianists.

As an encore, he favored his large enthusiastic audience with the Menuetto from the Piano Sonata No. 18 in E-flat major, Op. 31, No. 3 (The Hunt). You have one more chance to hear this artist, with “late” Beethoven, in January. Don’t miss it!

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Karolina Jaroszewska in Review

Karolina Jaroszewska in Review

Karolina Jaroszewska – Cello
Julia Samojło – Piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
November 11, 2015

 

A warm-hearted spirit of generosity pervaded the atmosphere of a very accomplished performance given by cellist Karolina Jaroszewska and pianist Julia Samojło recently at Weil Recital Hall. Ms. Jaroszewska is an intuitive musician, with a big boned, extroverted and plush sound at her disposal. The Chopin Polonaise brillante in C Major, Op. 3, has these same qualities in spades, so it was a savvy vehicle for the talents of both cellist and pianist. The duo chose to perform the Leonard Rose edition, based on Emanuel Feuermann’s arrangement, which alters the subsidiary nature of the cello part, to say the least.   Ms. Samojło tossed off the difficult opening passagework with playful ease and lightness of execution. Indeed, her playing throughout the polonaise was indicative of an understanding of the composer which is rarely seen these days. Ms. Jaroszewsk, for her part, used a wide vibrato to achieve a deeply expressive singing tone. Her security in technical matters was abundantly evident, especially when called upon to play in the more alpine regions of the instrument, which were impressively accurate in this rendition. I don’t think I would be incorrect in saying that both these artists, through their training in Poland, have absorbed a connection, handed down through generations, to the particular spirit and style of Frédéric Chopin.

In an unannounced reversal of program order, Eugène Ysaÿe’s Sonata for Solo Cello, Op. 28, was placed immediately after the Chopin. This proved to be a wise decision, as it allowed Ms. Jaroszewska to expand into the full scope of her interpretive range. Her phrasing and melodic shaping of this sonata were beautifully judged, most especially in the first and third movements. In the concluding Finale Con Brio, she displayed a subtle calibration of dynamics and several different qualities of pizzicato to great musical effect.

A selection of Rachmaninoff songs, arranged by the cellist, were balanced nicely in terms of mood and tessitura (soprano, mezzo, tenor, bass). Ms. Jaroszewska, when operating in soprano territory, played rhapsodically, passionately, in a manner reminiscent of a bygone era. It was Ms. Samojło, however, who made an even greater impression in many moments of austere beauty, her tone exquisite at the close “Like Blossom Dew-Freshen’d To Gladness” and the floating, Debussian quality she brought to “The Little Island”.

Krzysztof Penderecki’s second composition for solo cello, entitled Per Slava, is dedicated to the great Russian cellist Mstislav Rostropovich. It is basically a series of manipulations based on the half tone intervals used to form the name BACH (B-flat, A, C, B) . This would seem to be an artificial construct, yet it is a rich and intensely affecting work. Ms. Jaroszewska gave a terrific performance, committed and musically cogent.

An important recital should end with an important piece, and the Cesar Franck A Major Sonata unquestionably falls into this category. I can’t say that I am completely without reservations concerning the transcription for cello. Much of it works quite well, but in the places where it is awkward, it’s awkward in a disappointing way. Having said that, this duo brought a great deal of energy and panache to their interpretation and they managed some smooth transitions within movements remarkably well. This was a reading with more ardor than color, painted in big, bold strokes. The final movement got off to a shaky start, but they recovered beautifully and triumphantly.

With a snappy, witty encore by Piazzola, the evening came to a close and the grateful audience thanked these gracious performers. I’m partial to musicians like Ms. Jaroszewska and Ms. Samojło. They have done their homework, but in the concert, they plunge in and take risks, and we are better for it.

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by David La Marche  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Olympus Piano Trio In Review

The Olympus Piano Trio In Review

The Hellenic-American Cultural Foundation and the Alexander S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation (USA) present The Olympus Piano Trio
Regi Papa, violin; Ben Capps, cello; Konstantine Valianatos, piano
Merkin Concert Hall, Kaufman Arts Center, New York, NY
November 5, 2015

These Greeks definitely bear gifts, and they’re not Trojan horses. They are the gifts of immense musical talent, coupled with the fearless technique of youth, and passionate commitment to every note they play. Also, the two foundations that presented the event gave New Yorkers another gift: an absolutely free, no tickets required event.

The Olympus Trio, as a whole, created an incredibly velvety tone at all times, scrupulously balanced (sometimes overly so), with unanimity of phrasing. I especially enjoyed the cellist Ben Capps’ expressive left-hand vibrato and his facial involvement: too often the cellist is in the “thankless” role in a trio. The violinist Regi Papa was less demonstrative, but there was much finesse in his understanding of how to expand a phrase, and in his beautiful sound.

The concert began with a ravishing performance of Rachmaninoff’s Trio élégiaque No.1 in G minor (1892), less often heard than the second one (Op. 9). It was composed in four days, and certainly this shows in the overwhelming preponderance of the piano part, but none of this was apparent from the gorgeous reading given by the Olympians. It emerged from “nothing,” just as Rachmaninoff intended, and progressed to its big climaxes elegantly. The coda’s funeral march was particularly haunting.

Next came a Mount Olympus of a different sort: Ravel’s Piano Trio. Here I had high expectations, and I would have to say that this was a “good” performance, but if the group is still together in ten years, it has the potential to become a “great” performance. The sins were mainly those of youth, and I do apologize for nit-picking. The first movement was far too “gooey,” although it is marked (unusually for Ravel) with numerous tempo changes, the players added too much un-French expressive rubato. The excellent pianist Konstantine Valiantos has a distressing habit of playing with his hands not together (I don’t mean where Ravel has so notated, but elsewhere): this may be allowed, perhaps, ONCE per entire concert, but not so often as here, it’s a careless mannerism. Also, Mr. Valianatos was so careful in his balances that there was often not enough piano (!), which is usually not the issue in this piece. He played a misprint that I have spent a lifetime trying to get people to correct (just because the Beaux-Arts Trio recorded it that way doesn’t make it true): the final note in the first movement piano part (right hand) is an E and G in BASS clef, please.

The second movement, Pantoum, was taken at an appropriate, breakneck tempo, with excitement, despite almost derailing the pianist a couple of times. That he did not get flustered at all is to his credit—so scary is this movement. The Passacaille third movement had the right mood, but oddly here Mr. Valianatos played his opening eight measures too loudly and with intrusive, fussy phrasing, thus ruining the “emergence from darkness.” The two strings’ haunting duo between rehearsal numbers 8 and 9 (Durand edition) was perfection. The Finale was robust, with the piano finally asserting itself fully.

After Intermission, the Trio played the New York premiere of an excerpt from a longer multi-media work called “Constantinople” by contemporary Greek-Canadian composer Christos Hatzis. They played “Odd World,” which was a good play on words, as the folk materials whizzed by in quintuplet meters, and other asymmetrical folk-inspired divisions. It was very accessible, and pleased the large crowd greatly.

Finally, they turned their talents and attentions to another pillar of the repertoire: Mendelssohn’s Piano Trio No. 2 in C minor, Op. 66. It was finely phrased, and the quick movements were marvels of clarity. The desynchronization of the pianist’s hands reached epic proportions here (second movement), and it detracted from my total enjoyment, as I began wondering when it would happen next. The pianissimi, which are rarely observed, were perfect. At the fff statement of the “Doxology” hymn in the last movement, Mr. Valianatos truly broke free, honoring the dynamic with his biggest sound of the evening; I imagine he felt that since no one else was playing he could indulge, for he returned to his deferential style immediately after.

When a group is this good, they deserve to grow and become even better. I hope they will be encouraged, for they obviously give audiences a great deal of pleasure with their music.

 

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Adrienne Haan – Tehorah in Review

Adrienne Haan – Tehorah in Review

Adrienne Haan – Tehorah
Adrienne Haan, Chanteuse
Heinz-Walter Florin, Piano
Netanel Draiblate and Perry Tal, Violin
Shmuel Katz, Viola
Yoni Draiblate, Cello
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 29, 2015

 

Chanteuse Adrienne Haan gave New York another display of her abundant flair for the vintage cabaret material of Weimar-era Germany in Berlin, this time interleaved with songs in Hebrew and Yiddish. (She also sang in English and French). The title of the concert was Tehorah, the Hebrew word for pure. The evening marked the fiftieth anniversary of the beginning of German-Israeli diplomatic relations, which she explained began on May 12, 1965, twenty years and a few days after V-E day.

 The audience was full of diplomatic dignitaries from Germany and Israel, and devotees of Hebrew and Yiddish popular song. Dr. Ruth Westheimer (the media personality “Dr. Ruth”) was even present.

Ms. Haan did not disappoint. I heard her “Rock le Cabaret” earlier this year, and many of the same qualities were present, this time in quieter, excellent arrangements by her pianist/music director, Heinz-Walter Florin (of German nationality), and the Israeli string quartet listed above—musical diplomacy mirroring the international kind. I especially enjoyed the interplay between the two Draiblates: Netanel on violin, and Yoni on cello. I hope I am not incorrectly assuming that they may be siblings—the program did not specify—but their fully involved playing and visual communication lent chamber-music quality to an evening of essentially “lighter” music.

Ms. Haan explained that the concert’s message was one of “love and peace,” two areas in which her personality succeeds in matching the content. She performs this style of music with perfect diction in every language, and without the sometimes sour cynicism of, say, Ute Lemper, whose repertoire Ms. Haan shares. I only wish that Ms. Haan had dug into some of the more bitter colorations possible in the German material, even the seemingly funny patter songs. She did achieve this in what, for me, was the highlight of the evening, her performance of Brecht/Weill’s Seeräuber Jenny (Pirate Jenny). Her snarl and growl were absolutely perfect.

Ms. Haan brought amazing variety to the many verses of the strophic songs, through subtle, tasteful shifts of stance or use of hands, and her face is marvelously responsive, even when she isn’t singing. Alles schwindel (Everybody swindles) from 1931 provided a suitably wry introduction to the evening, but it came off as “merely” a comic song, instead of a knowing indictment. Her rendition of Ich bin von Kopf bis Fuss eingestellt, better known to us as “Falling in Love Again,” was a “lighter” one, wholesome rather than wearily decadent. It didn’t suggest the conflict between wanting and “not” wanting, but was very well-sung, as was the entire program.

A defiant look at ambiguous sexualities called The Lavender Song: Masculinum/Femininum (1920) was dispatched rapidly, yet with crystal clarity and great humor. The composer, Misha Spoliansky, originally published it under the pseudonym Arno Billing, so dangerous was its content.

In the songs in Hebrew and Yiddish, Ms. Haan tapped into a unique reserve of mellow longing and wistful sadness that suited the minor-key lyricism of, for instance, the contemporary Israeli folk-singer Chava Alberstein’s The Exclusive Garden and I Stand Beneath a Carob Tree.

Ms. Haan’s informative yet concise patter between songs taught the audience that the poet of the well-known Lili Marleen was a World War I veteran, and that it was set to music only in 1937, on the verge of the next conflagration.

The evening can certainly be counted a success, because of Ms. Haan’s impeccable taste and her good-natured stage presence. The audience ate up every tune—some of my nearby seatmates were even humming along; and she performs a crucial, dare I say, “educational” role in preserving this music for new generations. However, since her role models (Lemper, Dietrich, et al) in the repertoire are so iconic, I trust she will continue to deepen the layers of characterization in her portrayals—there was a top hat and a feather boa on her prop table that, alas, were never utilized. Auf wiedersehn! Lehit-ra-ot! Zay gezunt!

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists Presents Gala Winners Concert in Review

The Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists Presents Gala Winners Concert in Review

Gala Winners Concert, The Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists
Bruno Walter Auditorium, Lincoln Center, N.Y.
October 18, 2015

 

It is hard to believe, hearing the winners of the Fourth Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition for Young Pianists, that it was just 2003 when it was all conceived to honor the celebrated Bach interpreter Rosalyn Tureck just prior to her death. Founded by Golda Vainberg-Tatz in honor of her mentor (and with Ms. Tureck’s blessing), each competition is an enormous undertaking, drawing an international jury and attracting outstanding international participants, ages 7-20. The repertoire, wide-ranging and demanding, makes for great listening, and this year it all took place (with the exception of screening DVDs) in the high visibility venue of the Bruno Walter auditorium, with the co-sponsorship of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. I’ve had the pleasure to observe this competition’s Winners Concerts several times, and each time has been of a higher level than the last.

The Jury Members were Emanuel Krasovsky (Chairman), Sara Davis Buechner, Michael Charry, Mirian Conti, Sharon Isbin, Zhou Keng, Jose Ramos Santana, Matti Reakallio, André-Michel Schub, and Founder-Director, Golda Vainberg-Tatz.

The contestants ranged from the promising young Megan Xie, age 8, playing Bach’s Little Prelude and Fugue in G Major (BWV 902) with polish and surprising assuredness for one so young, to Kai Ono, age 19, playing Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue (BWV 903), in a style reflecting his varied experience with composition and jazz. The other offerings included more Bach categories (all kinds of Suites, Preludes, Fugues, Toccatas and more), contemporary music (another specialty of Ms. Tureck), and the first honorees ever in the challenging category VIII, none other than the Goldberg Variations! Adrian Fan, age 15, and Angela Xue, age 16, were both recognized in this category, though Ms. Xue performed Sofia Gubaidulina’s Chaconne for the winners’ concert, and quite powerfully.

After the opening of Megan Xie, we heard Anthony Reznikovsky, age 12, in Bach’s Duet No.2 (BWV 803). It was crisp and clear, with beautiful control of the tricky contrapuntal writing.

The gap between ages 12 and 14 is sometimes night and day, and Alexander Tsereteli showed us a glimpse of the developed artist he is headed to be. His Preludes Op.53, Nos.17 and 18 of Nikolai Kapustin were excellent, with a precocious grasp of their jazz-inspired idiom.

Back to Bach, one heard Connor Sung, age 10, in movements from the French Suite in E major (BWV 817). His marked articulations in the Allemande were staccato on each sixteenth, bringing out a perpetual motion quality that many Bach players choose for its connection to the harpsichord style. The intervening Sarabande was a pleasant change in texture, and creatively done. What this listener appreciated most, though, were the declamatory agogic accents in the Gigue, giving this dance movement a sense of gusto.

With a more sedate approach to the keyboard, Benjamin Wolfson, age 9, found beauty in two movements from Bach’s French Suite in C minor (BWV 813), namely the Allemande and the Gigue. Not only was his lyrical approach to the phrases refreshing and unforced, but he gets kudos for performing a Gigue that is one of the thorniest, least child-friendly of the lot.

Next up, Angela Lee, age 11, fairly knocked everyone’s socks off with her Nocturne, No. 4, Op. 38, by Lowell Liebermann. She demonstrated the sensitivity, maturity, power, and pianism that one often misses in pianists twice her age. It is not a huge surprise that, in addition to winning in Category V (Various Works), she also received the Evgeny Kissin Grand Prize.

Enjoying the surfeit of riches, we heard still more Bach, the Toccata in E minor (BWV 914), played by promising young artist Keiju Takehara, age 17, plus the Prelude and Fugue in C sharp minor (Book I, BWV 816), played with complete command by Vladislav Kern, age 16.

Non-Bach offerings included “China Dream” by Zhang Zhao, in the rendition of Xu Yue, age 16, plus (as mentioned before) Gubaidulina’s Chaconne, played by Angela Xue. The latter, showing much of Bach’s influence was an especially good twentieth century choice for this Bachian event.

To close the program, the audience heard a sampling from the Goldberg Variations (BWV 988), as played by Adrian Fan. In addition to (of course) the theme, we heard a wonderfully lively Variation 1, a good Variation 6, and a very precise and well-articulated Variation 7. There was a particularly well-controlled performance of the often scrambled Variation 14, a thoughtful and sensitive Variation 21, plus the subsequent one, and to cap it off, the brilliant Variation 29. One may have reservations about the integrity of excerpting such a piece, but if more and more contestants start performing such a work in its entirety, the Tureck Competition will need to book a venue for months and raise a lot more funds!

All in all, it was an inspiring event. Congratulations to all the young participants whose playing was not only life-affirming, but a reminder never to underestimate human beings based on how long they have lived on the planet! They bring hope for the future. Congratulations go to the directors of the competition for bringing it all to fruition.

 

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Key Pianists presents Peter Takács :The Beethoven Experience—Early Beethoven in Review

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

Key Pianists presents Peter Takács:The Beethoven Experience—Early Beethoven
Peter Takács, piano
Guest artists: Boris Allakhverdyan, Clarinet; Carter Brey, Cello
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
October 18, 2015

I was irreverently suggesting prior to this concert that at this point Beethoven needs no publicity. His devoted performers and listeners do, however, need repeated exposure to these testaments of creativity, which continue to speak and sing no matter how well we think we know them. One of the pleasures of hearing such iconic material is that one can focus in much more detailed fashion on the performance and performer(s).

Beethoven is in extremely fine hands with the esteemed Romanian-born pianist, Peter Takács. His playing overall was full of satisfying risk-taking. He did what is all too rare nowadays: he gave the sensation that he was creating the music “on the spot.” The music breathed where it needed to breathe, bombast was appropriately bombastic, lyrical lines sang, and the whole demonstrated passionate commitment. His ability to change emotional character as quickly as the musical figures changed made the program spring to vivid life.

The very first solo piano sonata given an opus number (Op. 2, No. 1 in F minor) made a fitting opening to this concert (and the first of a three-part series). Mr. Takács’ tone was miraculously transparent on the nine-foot modern Steinway, even at times evoking the more slender tones of instruments Beethoven may have known (and which he always found insufficient). The Adagio, that first of Beethoven’s essays in “humanitäts-Melodie,” was taken a tad faster than I am used to, but to great effect. Its last two chords were magical, not perfunctory.

Mr. Takács was then joined by Boris Allakhverdyan and Carter Brey for the diverting Trio for Clarinet, Cello and Piano, Op. 11. I take issue with only one of Mr. Takács good program notes here, for he states that B-flat major was a key used by Beethoven to signify light-heartedness. I don’t think the “Archduke” trio or the “Hammerklavier” sonata would be mistaken for light-hearted, but no matter. The afternoon became truly thrilling with this performance. Mr. Allakhverdyan and Mr. Brey are well-known to New Yorkers through their fine contributions to the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic respectively. They played as though they had been a fully formed ensemble for years, teasing out every nugget of chamber music gold, with easeful runs and great good humor, particularly in the rousing Finale, based on a popular comic-opera tune that truly is the anthem of every starving artist “Before I work, I must have something to eat.” Beethoven must surely have had a hearty laugh about the reference. mr. Takács enjoyed the impish turn to G Major near the end, a remote key here, and you could see the playful quality on his face.

After intermission, Mr. Takács favored the audience with the two “sides” of C, minor and major, represented respectively by the famous “Pathétique” sonata Op. 13 and then the final sonata of Op. 2: No. 3. In the Adagio of Op. 13, there was an old-fashioned desynchronization of the hands, which I did not find disturbing for once. This may actually have a lot more to do with a “historically informed” performance practice that we would rather gloss over in our “intellectual” age. Don’t rush out to do this, everyone: let’s just allow Mr. Takács to do it. He also found meltingly sentimental colors in this same movement, where many pianists just “pass over” it. Mr. Takács actually improvised a cadenza in the last movement’s rondo, before the reappearance of the theme, rather than just “sit there” on the fermata. Bravo!

The C major sonata, more like a concerto without orchestra, was brilliant and full of bold contrasts, especially in the unusually “big” slow movement. He arpeggiated large left-hand chords unapologetically, especially in the development section, a smart solution to the problem every pianist faces about too-massive sonority. His passagework and trills in the finale were marvelous and clear. It seems churlish even to mention passagework when one has been given such a gift.

There is an internet meme circulating for some time now about something Beethoven supposedly said to his student Czerny: “Anyone can play a wrong note sometimes, but to play without passion is inexcusable.” Beethoven would have been proud of this performance.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Ullmann Project-I in Review

The Ullmann Project-I in Review

The Ullmann Project-I
Dominique Hellsten, artistic director, soprano
Monica Niemi, soprano
Jason Plourde, Will Robinson, baritones
Craig Ketter, Matthew Odell, pianists
Paul Griffiths, musicologist, pre-concert speaker
Merkin Concert Hall, Kaufman Music Center, New York, NY
October 15, 2015

 

The Lieder (German art-song) recital is an endangered species. It depends on the enthusiasms of a small, hardy band of devotees: presenters, performers, and audiences. Happily, many of these devoted folk still exist, and they find each other somehow. That devotion was evident in this first concert (of three planned) of the Ullmann Project.

This recital was preceded by an intimate, informative talk by veteran critic Paul Griffiths, who neatly covered Ullmann’s biographical highlights with admirable coherence and concision. It’s a shame that only a handful of people chose to attend this crucial background informational talk.

Viktor Ullmann (1898-1944) was one (unfortunately among many) of the creative artists to lose his life from the genocidal aktions of the Nazis during WWII. Ullmann’s parents were Jewish, but converted to Catholicism. Ullmann later converted from that to Protestantism, and then to his most meaningful attachment: Anthroposophy. Nevertheless, in the Nazi scheme of things, having Jewish parents (even just one), converted or not, was a one-way ticket to the extermination camps.

Ullmann was first transported to the infamous Terezín (which the Germans called Theresienstadt) “show-camp,” where the Germans used to parade through visiting humanitarian groups such as the Red Cross, as if to say “See? Look how WELL we treat our prisoners,” an irony that is as chilling now as ever. Theatricals, music, painting, all took place within the barbed-wire walls of the camp, supervised by the watchful eyes of the Nazi guards and officials, always on the lookout for subversive messages perhaps sneaked into the works. But who would such messages ever have reached anyway? In the late, defeatist days of the regime, Ullmann was moved to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where he perished October 18, 1944.

My task as critic is 1) to evaluate the performances and 2) perhaps render some sort of comment on the material itself. The performances were uniformly committed, and in some cases very stylish. I’d venture to say (with due respect for Ullmann’s quite original “kaleidoscopic” compositional style) that perhaps some of the gems would have been better set off in a more varied program (whether language, or style-period), for there was quite a bit of sameness within the late-Romantic language(s) employed by the four composers on the program. I understand the desire, however, to contextualize Ullmann: mission accomplished.

The program began with six Lieder to poems by Albert Steffens. Steffens was an interesting figure who took over the Anthroposophic Society after the death of its founder Rudolf Steiner. As explained by Dominique Hellsten, Ullmann was insistent that his poets have some sort of “moral” core or sensibility. In these songs, soprano Monica Niemi sang with a clear bright sound, negotiating the often difficult wide-ranging vocal lines well, but with a diction that, while it may have been academically correct, sounded indistinct even in the smallish hall. These songs, as with most of them on this program, strain at the outer bounds of what might be considered true “Lieder” style, verging on an operatic mode of expression, not that that’s always bad (witness the songs of Richard Strauss).

Craig Ketter, her collaborative pianist, produced some of the most satisfying sounds I have heard in decades from a vocal accompanist. In fact, both pianists in the evening were superb, the other being Matthew Odell. Their lavish colorings and total mastery of the often-thick piano writing were marvels to behold.

Ms. Niemi continued with Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s “Farewell Songs,” which contain a translation of Christina Rossetti’s “When I Am Dead, My Dear.” Korngold, a child prodigy, wound up in Hollywood, where he found his true calling as a master creator of film music. The ripe harmonic language sounded a bit overdone here, my limitation I’m sure.

Then came two of the five songs by Alexander Zemlinsky (Arnold Schoenberg’s and Korngold’s teacher) to poems by Richard Dehmel (the poet of Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht). Will Robinson, baritone, accompanied by Mr. Odell, had fewer of the diction issues, but both he and Ms. Niemi could have benefitted from a greater variety of expression, less “seriousness” in the face, and more frontal placement of vowels for clarity.

Mr. Robinson continued with the six songs to Rilke poems by Petr Eben, who died only recently, in 2007. This was a very interesting group musically, and it was well done by both Robinson and Odell.

After intermission, things heated up with the Tanzlied of Pierrot from Korngold’s well-known opera Die Tote Stadt (The Dead City), composed when he was twenty-three. Jason Plourde, baritone, had a lovely warm sonority that suited the material, and the best diction thus far of the evening. My only quibble was a peculiarity of his rendering of the “motto” of the aria, the four words “Mein Sehnen, mein Wähnen,” which lacked nostalgia, and resolution of the final, unaccented syllables of “Sehnen” and “Wähnen,” where the vowel was far too open.

Mr. Plourde followed with three more songs by Ullmann, to texts by Swiss poet and historian of the Italian medieval and renaissance periods Conrad Ferdinand Meyer, that were vividly characterized.

If I appear to be dwelling on diction, it is because it really is of the essence to the art of the song recital. Not that we ever want to suffer from “diction-face,” but there is a subtle art of creating the proper aural illusions that will reach the audience and create the result of a good rendering of the text, together with beautiful vocalization. It should never be just one “or” the other.

And so, we come to the motivating force behind this Ullmann Project: soprano Dominique Hellsten. She sang eleven songs to conclude the program: six by Zemlinsky and five by Ullmann. In Ms. Hellsten, we found exactly that quality of expression that had been only partially realized previously in the recital: a true idiomatic command of the German language not separated from her singing. Even when her voice was perhaps straining at some of the demands being put upon it by the material, we never doubted her conviction, and she had the most relaxed posture and wide range of expression. She explained, in a brief verbal program note, how much the Ullmann songs to Ricarda Huch’s poems mean to her, ever since she discovered them in London some years ago. She brought that deep understanding that comes from having lived with the material, and again Craig Ketter worked magic with the very busy piano parts, with never a chord out of place or unbalanced.

As Ullmann himself said: “By no means did we sit weeping on the banks of the waters of Babylon. Our endeavor with respect to arts was commensurate with our will to live.” We look forward to the second and third installments of this series.

 

 

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
“Leonard Bernstein Remembered” in Review

“Leonard Bernstein Remembered” in Review

“Leonard Bernstein Remembered” in Review
Lloyd Arriola, Pianist and Musical Director
Christ and St. Stephen’s Church, New York, NY
October 14, 2015

 

Nearly four years after reviewing pianist Lloyd Arriola in an excellent New York debut recital (marking the 200th anniversary of Liszt’s birth: Lloyd Arriola-pianist-in-review), it is a pleasure to review him again, now in the rather different role of musical director for an ambitious tribute to Leonard Bernstein. On this 25th anniversary – to the day – of Bernstein’s death, Mr. Arriola served as producer, collaborative pianist, and occasional vocal complement to twenty accomplished singers in selections from Bernstein’s operettas, musicals, and other vocal works. It was apparent what a labor of love and expense it must have been for him to coordinate and rehearse so many singers from near and far. He spoke briefly of being a student at Peabody Institute when the news of Bernstein’s death broke, of the shock, and of the 25 years since then, culminating in this concert.

The evening began with a procession of nearly twenty singers to the front of the church, a formidable array one assumed to be the complete personnel until statuesque contralto Nicole J. Mitchell made her dramatic entry from the back, singing Bernstein’s “Somewhere” from West Side Story as she walked. It was one of the most haunting renditions I’ve heard, and I’ve heard many. An emotional tone was set for the evening.

“A Simple Song” from Bernstein’s Mass followed, sung with beautiful clarity by baritone, Sam Fujii. There was a good alternation of solo, duo, and ensemble textures throughout the evening, and “Readings” (from the funeral scene of the opera A Quiet Place) came next, enlisting the forces of seven of the evening’s stars. It is difficult to pull such a scene out of the context of the musical in a way the audience can fully understand, because, even though in English, the lyrics intertwine among voices; that said, one appreciated the exceptionally clear diction by tenors, Marcos D. Vigil and Lawrence Rush. The performance prompted one to explore this whole work more deeply.

From the funereal to the lighthearted, the evening progressed to “Carried Away” from On the Town, sung by Erika Person Werner and Eric Werner – not surprisingly a duo with a strong and appealing rapport. They projected its giddy subject matter with flair. On a similarly comical note (and also from On the Town) came “Carnegie Hall Pavane” a jazzy sendup of singing lessons. Mezzo-soprano Christine Thomas and soprano Barbara Porto brought out the campy fun. Of course On the Town has its melancholy numbers too, and “Some Other Time” is one. Ms. Thomas joined a quartet with Alison Davy, David Bell, and Lawrence Rush, in a moving performance. The musical sighs of “oh, well” conveyed the song’s sense of resignation with special poignancy.

“A Little Bit in Love” from Wonderful Town, featured Ms. Davy again in a strictly solo capacity. She was thorough and convincing, sensitive to both theatrical elements and phrasing. She teamed up with Ms. Thomas afterwards in a winsome rendition of the clever number “Ohio” (“Why, oh why, Ohio?” – also from Wonderful Town).

No Bernstein tribute would be complete without selections from Candide, and indeed we had two. The first was “Glitter and Be Gay”, a coloratura showstopper requiring a singer to be Queen of the Night and a Rockette all rolled up into one. Soprano Kinneret Ely was both, giving a high-energy performance. “We are Women” followed with more comedy, teaming up Jessica Fishenfeld with Ms. Thomas, who had already had quite a busy night but was showing no signs of flagging. Their mincing gestures to the lyrics about “little, little women” were hilarious.

Returning to music from West Side Story, we heard the touching “One Hand, One Heart” sung movingly by the duo of Amy Palomo and Marcos D. Vigil. It was followed by “Tonight” in a rousing quintet version. Bernstein’s range was especially striking throughout this program, but then again, that range typified everything about the late maestro’s musical life.

After intermission, we heard the only piano solo of the evening, the 3rd of Bernstein’s Four Anniversaries, played with tender expressiveness by Mr. Arriola. He accompanied beautifully throughout the evening, but it was good to hear him in solo performance. Dedicated to Stephen Sondheim, the piece served as a prelude to the evening’s only non-Bernstein song, Sondheim’s “I Remember” – sung with heartrending nostalgia by special guest, Rosemary George.

The brooding continued with “Lonely Town” (from On the Town), sung with a powerful sense of desolation by baritone Gustavo Morales, and “Morning – Good Morning” (from A Quiet Place), given an eerie otherworldly quality by soprano Joyce Yin. Two songs from Peter Pan were equally ethereal, including “Dream With Me” sung by outstanding countertenor Daniel Gundlach and “Build My House” given a fine performance by soprano Lotte Crayton.

“Duet for One – First Lady of the Land” (from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue), is just the challenge that the title suggests – one singer, in this case Lindsay Blackhurst, handling two roles alternately in one song. It was well done, though perhaps some exaggeration of the different inflections or accents could have helped even more than the comic prop of a liquor flask. The alternations can be a bit hard to follow if one blinks, unless one is completely immersed in this musical (and few are, as it was famously a flop on Broadway). Two ensemble works followed, “Nachspiel” from Arias and Barcarolles, and “To Make Us Proud” (from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue) with Lawrence Rush as Theodore Roosevelt. They capped off a highly successful program with spirit.

All in all, this concert broadened one’s understanding of the late Leonard Bernstein greatly, while naturally leaving room for much more. As Mr. Arriola stated in his emotional conclusion, the 100th Anniversary of Mr. Bernstein’s birth is approaching in 2018, and plans for more are afoot. Mr. Arriola has a track record of surpassing himself, so one looks forward to the next venture.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Barber Reconsidered in Review

Barber Reconsidered in Review

Barber Reconsidered: Celebrating Samuel Barber’s 105th Anniversary
Maxim Anikushin, pianist, organist, harpsichordist, carilloneur; Eric Silberger, violin; Thelma Ithier-Sterling, soprano
Bruno Walter Auditorium, New York Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center, New York, NY
September 26, 2015

 

Pianist Maxim Anikushin offered a lecture recital, exploring little known works by Samuel Barber, featuring both live and recorded performances on piano, organ, harpsichord, and carillon, as well as some videography. His multiple talents are undeniable, as is his enthusiasm for the material. The bulk of the program consisted of lots of small juvenilia from Barber’s childhood (as early as age seven) and adolescence. Perhaps, Barber knew best, however, never releasing these pieces for general publication, for they don’t really add much to our reverence for this iconic composer, and are mainly of academic interest.

Mr. Anikushin opened with the solo version of the Souvenirs, Op. 28. This was the only non-juvenile work, one that is pretty well-known to piano duos. Barber stated that he wished to evoke the charming music of the Palm Court at the Plaza Hotel. When done in the original four-hand, one piano version, more charm and intimacy are possible, and the genre emerges for what it is. Mr. Anikushin was most successful in the pathos-laden Pas de deux, and his tempo and lightness in the Two-step was a marvel to witness. Elsewhere, the music sounded a bit stiff (the solo pianist does have an awful lot to do) and needed a great deal more charm and flexibility.

There followed Three Themes (1923), a Menuetto, Andante religioso, and Allegretto on C, none of which revealed much originality, with a mélange of Classical styles as models. The Petite Berceuse (1923) had a poignant lyrical idea that repeated itself, each time landing on a novel harmony. The Essay II (1926) was more interesting in its adoption of certain “brutalist” gestures, possibly influenced by Stravinsky, as Mr. Anikushin pointed out in his remarks. Barber was fond of the concept of a musical “essay,” and named three mature orchestral works “Essay” as well. Two more childhood compositions: Sadness, and Lullaby (these were the age seven and nine works), were rather square. The Lullaby at least displayed ingenious cross-hand work, showing pianistic ingenuity, if not exceptional musical precocity.

Maxim Anikushin and Horace Gibson

Maxim Anikushin and Horace Gibson

Then came one of the most interesting byways of the concert: a three-movement Suite for Carillon (1930/33). Mr. Anikushin learned to play the carillon in several prominent locations in the U.S. (they all vary wildly in pitch and the weight of the wooden mallets one has to depress to activate the bells), following in Barber’s footsteps as an avid carilloneur. The sonority, accompanied by the clever video shot from the tower of New York’s Riverside Church, was lovely, inducing reverie in this post-Papal-visit New Yorker.

After intermission, Mr. Anikushin’s talent as an organist and harpsichordist was displayed. In a fragment of an intended Partita on a Bach chorale, all we heard was the Bach portion, which didn’t say much about Barber. Nor did the Fugue No. 5 from Five Fugues. The Canon No. 4 played on piano (then again on organ), a scant, busy, and difficult twenty-five seconds long, was accompanied by a whimsical video of a live bat that had entered Mr. Anikushin’s apartment.

The only completed movement from a Violin/Piano Sonata (1928) was given an excellent, passionate reading by the big-toned, bold romantic playing of Eric Silberberg and Mr. Anikushin. Their ensemble was excellent, and they managed to “paper over” some of the meanderings of the youthful Barber. They followed this with a “Gypsy Dance,” from an opera planned by Barber when he was twelve (The Rose Tree), which sounded mainly like warmed-over Fritz Kreisler in its inclusion of folkloric musical gestures.

The recital closed with a charming set of songs (again very early compositions), sung with expressive meaning and delicacy by Thelma Ithier-Sterling. The most shimmering, beautiful playing of the afternoon was Mr. Anikushin’s work as collaborative pianist in these songs, which didn’t venture much above “parlor” material, with the exception of the early version of “Daisies” (varying substantially from that found in Barber’s complete published songs) and the lovely “Slumber Song of the Madonna.” One of the songs was in French, a sophisticated choice for a boy, but the music emulated some portions of Fauré, without the French penchant for proportion and taste.

Mr. Anikushin clearly has a big technique and a lot to say, with his many instruments as well as his comments. He has been reviewed favorably in these pages before, by the estimable Harris Goldsmith. I would recommend that he do two things: 1) lavish his talents on better-quality music, and 2) remove the chip from his shoulder about funding, recording projects, procuring rights to music, etc. Come on Maxim, I know you’ve heard of Kickstarter, right?

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
The Franchomme Project in Review

The Franchomme Project in Review

The Franchomme Project

Louise Dubin, Saeunn Thorsteinsdottir, Katherine Cherbas, and Julia Bruskin, cellists; Hélène Jeanney, pianist

John Street Church, New York, NY

September 19th, 2015

 

The compositions of Auguste Franchomme are undergoing a huge revival, thanks to the cellist Louise Dubin. The first concert in New York which celebrated the Franchomme Project CD release was on September 19th. The second will be Sunday, September 27th at 2pm.

Auguste Franchomme (1808-1884) was the most renowned French cellist of his time. He studied both cello and composition in Lille, and he became an important musical figure in Paris, where he befriended Chopin. The two remained very close, and Chopin’s late work, the Sonata for Piano and Cello, Op. 65, was dedicated to Franchomme. Until recently, most of Franchomme’s compositions were out-of-print and have never been recorded. Cellist Louise Dubin’s doctoral thesis on this 19th century cellist-composer has inspired several projects, including performances in France and the U.S., and music lectures at NYU and other universities. A volume of Franchomme’s compositions introduced by Ms. Dubin is to be published by Dover in November, 2015. The Franchomme Project CD—the Delos/Naxos album being celebrated this month— features many premiere recordings of his works. The album was chosen by San Francisco’s classical music station KDFC-FM as “CD of the week” in the week of its release (officially released on September 11, 2015). St. Paul’s Chapel, which housed and aided many of the injured on 9/11, is the location for the next Franchomme concert on September 27th.

Ms. Dubin has done remarkably well with this project, shedding light on this important, influential musician. She is as fine a performer as she is a scholar. She plays with a robust, lush sound, yet blends impeccably with her co-artists, the excellent cellists Saeunn Thorsteinsdottir, Katherine Cherbas, Julia Bruskin, and the marvelous pianist Hélène Jeanney. They all gave stellar performances on September 19th at John Street Church; the intonation, balance, vibrato, voicing and interpretation were all unified. Although the entire program was enlightening and immensely enjoyable, the Chopin/Franchomme pieces for cello quartet—transcribed by Ms. Dubin from manuscripts—were special highlights of the evening. In these cello quartet arrangements, the full, glorious range of the cello is conveyed. Lucid details and ornaments are loyal to the originals. The Marche funèbre from the second piano sonata was haunting and ominous as one usually hears in the piano original, but with four cellos, it was rugged, rich and lyrically soulful in a way that might persuade an individual to want to choose this sonority over the sound of the piano. The Ballade No. 2, Op.38 was given an elegant, lilting and sweet performance; it was repeated as an encore. The last harmonic, which Ms. Dubin slightly missed and could have been perceived as a grace note in the first rendering, was now perfect and recording-ready—in case the concert’s live recording was one of the intentions for the repeat encore. The obvious reason for the Ballade as an encore was that the audience loved it the first time. The tempo was more flowing when they repeated it, and I enjoyed it more the second time.

Go to the September 27th performance and get the recording. Justice has been served to both Franchomme and Chopin.

For more information about this upcoming concert, as well as Franchomme and the recording, visit www.louise-dubin.com

 

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by Anthony Aibel  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY