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Coudert Institute presents Alexander Beridze in Review

Alexander Beridze, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 12, 2014

Georgian pianist Alexander Beridze played a recital with great passion and excitement on November 12 at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; the program of standard repertoire was touchingly dedicated to the memory of his mother. I wonder if the works chosen were favorites of hers. Mr. Beridze was presented by the Coudert Institute, a Palm Beach “think tank”, whose motto is “subjects that matter with people who make a difference,” that also supports the arts. Amen to that.

Mr. Beridze began with Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 101 in A Major, the first of the famous “last five” sonatas, in which Beethoven simultaneously pushes music forward toward the Romantic period, while re-exploring the intricate counterpoint procedures of the Baroque. Mr. Beridze caught the delicate lyricism of the first movement perfectly, which begins “in the middle” of the phrase, adding numerous touches of beautiful articulation and melting legato touch. His understanding of the musical/rhetorical/emotional content of each phrase is quite deep, and he is able to bring all these together. The second movement, a truculent march marked Lebhaft (lively) still could have used a slightly more controlled tempo to allow for accuracy and clarity. Sometimes, in faster and louder movements, his enthusiasm runs away with him a bit, leading to finger slips and even memory lapses, though they don’t detour him from his expressive goal. The quasi-recitative of the third movement was rendered delicately with certain soft chords evocative of prayer or other metaphysical states, uncommonly beautiful. This led directly into the sonata/fugue hybrid fourth movement, played with brilliance, including wonderful trills.

The two Brahms Rhapsodies, Op. 79, followed. In the first, a more extended work in B Minor, Mr. Beridze’s phrasing and phrase grouping was utterly natural. He made the work sound inevitable and a lot less square and heavy than one often hears. However, in the second Rhapsody, in G Minor, the tempo was too rapid for clarity and expression, and it bordered on merely hectic and loud, and again, the memory suffered.

After intermission, he gave an electric rendering of Schumann’s “diary” of bipolar illness Kreisleriana Op 16. The eccentric, willful Kapellmeister Kreisler is a character in the novel of E.T.A. Hoffmann that had a great influence on the ever-susceptible Schumann. This work can handle an infinite range of approaches, but here Mr. Beridze’s headlong dive into the insane extremes of Schumann’s two alternate selves—Florestan (the fiery, impetuous side) and Eusebius (the dreamy poet)—were vividly contrasted. I did prefer his softer lyrical playing; it was truly poetic and lovely, whereas the “hyper” movements had less chance for subtlety, and there was definitely a missed opportunity for tenderness in the middle section of No. 1. I’ve always associated the final piece with the painting Death on a Pale Horse, with its evocation of nocturnal galloping. Although it is marked Schnell und spielend (Fast and playfully), it is the playfulness of something sinister toying with mankind. Mr.Beridze caught the disappearing nature of the nightmare perfectly.

Ideally, I would like to hear Mr. Beridze in a program that showed a greater range of piano styles and vocabularies.

He favored his sold-out crowd with one mighty encore, the Paganini/Liszt/Busoni multiple transcription and inflation of one of Paganini’s fierce violin solo caprices, La Campanella, played with even more fire and abandon than the entire recital which preceded it.

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

Hilton Head Symphony Orchestra presents Shen Lu in Review

2014 Hilton Head International Piano Competition Winner’s Recital

Shen Lu, pianist

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 8, 2014

An interesting recital was presented by the winner of the 2014 Hilton Head International Piano Competition, Shen Lu. While there were many moments of great beauty, he is not a “finished” pianist. (Who among us is?) I appreciated his total immersion in the music, but have some reservations, which will follow below. He is obviously well taught and has considerable emotional immersion in the music, although at age 29, perhaps I expected a more complete artist. His strengths are fleet fingers, a flexible, relaxed technique, and ravishing soft dynamics.

His program suffered from an excess of unusual choices, beginning with two Scarlatti sonatas, which were played with dreamy tones, though not unstylishly. Neither contained the customary sparkle that contest winners customarily resort to, though I appreciated his unique introversion. Next came the famous Beethoven “orphan,” the Andante favori, which old Ludwig had the good sense to remove as the central (slow) movement from the Waldstein sonata, adding the famous Introduzione instead. This work, however, has great integrity in its unfolding of continuous variation. Mr. Shen did not find the maximum magic in the key change to D-Flat Major, which occurs three times within the piece. This work is also essentially introspective, which Mr. Shen brought out nicely.

The first half concluded with Ravel’s Miroirs, an elusive body of work that perplexed even Ravel’s friends, members of the Apaches artist group of early twentieth century Paris. Mr. Shen’s amazingly fluid technique enabled him to negotiate the fearsome complexities of the score with ease, although the music could have used more clarity, dry wit, and irony. Ravel’s mirror-gazing needs a truly empathetic soul, not a skilled make-up artist. The best pieces were: the Noctuelles (Night Moths), whose fragile flittings were evoked beautifully, but with too much rubato, Oiseaux tristes (Sad Birds), whose flight amid the “torpor of a summer evening” (Ravel) was beautiful yet tragic, and La Vallée des cloches (The Valley of the Bells), which Ravel insisted was inspired not by a picturesque Alpine valley, but by the tolling of Paris’ church bells at noon. Mr. Shen clarified textures in the Une Barque sur l’océan (A Boat on the Ocean), but at the cost of leaving out some of the (many) notes. The famous Alborada del gracioso (Morning Song of the Jester) was dispatched at a dizzyingly fast tempo, thereby losing much of the character of the Spanish fool. His double glissandi were played softly, thereby avoiding calluses and bleeding fingers.

After intermission, Mr. Shen spent a great deal of pianistic capital on Tan Dun’s Opus 1: Eight Memories in Watercolor. Mr. Shen’s bio states his commitment to contemporary Chinese music. Although the set was played with total involvement, the music’s derivative nature could not be hidden: Debussy mainly, with hints of Bartók in his “For Children” mode. I am a great admirer of Tan Dun’s music, and I also love to explore the various composers’ “Opus ones,” but this set didn’t add much credit to either composer or pianist.

Finally, Mr. Shen negotiated the fierce demands of Rachmaninoff’s first set of Etudes-Tableaux, Op. 33. Here, his tone turned stereotypically “Russian,” if by that one means more aggressive, extroverted, even harsh. I have heard these pieces performed with greater linear clarity, although Mr. Shen’s total immersion was wonderful to behold. A brief memory lapse didn’t derail his poise or concentration. Rachmaninoff resisted assigning specific programs to these pieces, and they can well be appreciated simply as very difficult studies in the possibilities of piano sonority, without any further associations.

He favored the enthusiastic and large audience with two encores: a Prelude by Swiss composer Frank Martin, and a lyrical piece by (if I heard correctly) Chen Peixun. A word to those contemporary Chinese composers: please try not to imitate Debussy.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “I Believe… Remembering the Holocaust” in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) presents “I Believe… Remembering the Holocaust”

Distinguished Concerts Orchestra, Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Jonathan Griffith, conductor

Donald McCullough, conductor/composer, Zane Zalis, visiting composer

Sara Jean Ford, soprano/”Tova”; Rachel Arky, mezzo-soprano; Peter Kendall Clark, baritone, Alexander Gemignani, “Reinhardt”; Drew Gehling, “Aaron”

Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

November 9, 2014

As one who has been to many concerts given by Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY), I am very familiar with the “formula” employed; a joyful and/or uplifting theme presented on a large-scale, with world-class guest artists and exciting new compositions with singers of all ages from around the globe. The concert entitled “I Believe…Remembering the Holocaust” captured some of those ideals, but to call a performance in remembrance of what was arguably the most horrific example of cruelty in mankind’s history “joyous” would be inconceivable; it was, however, a thought-provoking and emotionally charged evening that would have been moving even to the hardest heart. A portion of the ticket sales went to benefit the Holocaust Resource Center of Temple Judea, in Manhasset, New York.

Singers from Connecticut, Washington DC, Florida, Virginia, California, Austria, Germany, Canada, and “individuals from around the globe” joined together with the Distinguished Concerts Orchestra in the United States premieres of two works- In the Shadow of the Holocaust and I Believe.

In the Shadow of the Holocaust is a thirteen-movement work featuring music from the archives of Holocaust survivor Aleksander Kulisiewicz (1918-1992), an amateur singer and songwriter, and compiler of songs from his five years of imprisonment. Donald McCullough selected and arranged music from this archive, but also decided to include articles and letters as well to be read before each section. Opening with a sorrow-filled lament played by a cello soloist, the tone was set for a work of sadness, strength, dignity in the face of unspeakable horror, and undying hope. Mr. McCullough proved himself to be not only a capable arranger, but also an effective and sensitive conductor. In my opinion, the selected readings gave the work the foundation of its power. The readers were all excellent, but I must single out Janet Snell in her reading of Letter to Mom. Her reading was so convincing that I am still emotionally devastated – it was absolutely one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever heard. The cello soloist was Caitlin Sullivan, who played with the skill of a first-rate performer and the understanding and emotional projection of a true artist throughout the work. Vocal soloists Sara Jean Ford, Rachel Arky, and Peter Kendall Clark were not to be overshadowed in their featured roles. After the end of the last movement, the silence hung in the air for what seemed an eternity. Mr. McCullough silently closed the score, set his baton down on the podium and turned to face the audience. It almost seemed that to applaud would have been inappropriate after this emotionally draining journey, but at last the silence was broken, and a justly deserved ovation was given to the performers.

I Believe, composed by Zane Zalis, was the second half. This twelve-movement work is well over an hour in length (the program listing it as sixty-five minutes) and has been called a “Holocaust Oratorio”. This designation is apt, but not in the conventional sense of the word. I consider I Believe to have much more in common with Broadway songs then the operatic styles of a conventional oratorio. Far from being a criticism, this quality is in my opinion the strength of this piece, the element that makes it “work.” It is accessible and has appeal to a wide range of listeners. I Believe follows the timeline of the genesis of the Holocaust through the aftermath. It would be beyond the scope of this review to detail each movement, but I highly recommend the reader to visit http://www.ibelieveproject.org/about-excerpts-chapter01.php to explore the story behind each movement.

Broadway singing sensation Sara Jean Ford was an ideal choice for the role of Tova. The child-like innocence of Tova was captured with the added dimension of a soaring, beautiful voice for songs that demanded a singer with her qualities. Alexander Gemignani, as the vile Reinhardt, was a revelation. He was so effective in his role that I found myself despising him with a vengeance each time he spoke, especially when he spewed out the hate-filled rants of Adolf Hitler. Drew Gehling, as Aaron, projected dignity and hope with a voice that reminded me very much of Josh Groban, a singer I enjoy hearing.

Conductor Jonathan Griffith led the large forces with a steady hand in yet another excellent performance I have come to expect as par for the course from this excellent musician. The complexities of the vocal polyphony went without a hitch from the well-prepared chorus members, including a very talented children’s chorus. Barely had the last note died away when the audience leapt up in an ovation. When Mr. Zalis took to the stage, the ovation went from a thunder to a roar. It was a well-earned reaction for an amazing performance of a power-packed work.

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

HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante in Review

HH Promotions London, LLC presents Carlo Grante, piano

“Masters of High Romanticism”- Concert I: Chopin-The Four Ballades, The Four Scherzi

Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center, New York, NY

October 31, 2014

The great pianist Alfred Cortot said of the Chopin Etudes that “they are as inaccessible to the technician without poetry as they are to the poet without technique.” The same could apply equally to all of Chopin’s works. Carlo Grante possesses both technique and poetry in formidable degrees. His daunting program consisted of two giant blocks of the repertoire, the four Ballades and the four Scherzi of Chopin. These works are so well-known that their themes have become part of the musical subconscious, so to speak. They are also routinely massacred by well-meaning pianists, both professional and amateur.

From the opening stark low C of the first Ballade, the audience sensed it was in the presence of total mastery and a personal vision for each phrase and each work as a whole. Color variety was abundant, reflecting the deep and dramatic emotional shifts that frequently turn from brooding to exultant in these lyrical narratives. At times, a daring and personal sense of rubato was applied, but always with a structural view, never distorting the total architecture. He didn’t play these works “the way you’ve always heard them,” thank goodness. After all, if you can’t be individual in works from the Romantic period, you are in the wrong business.

Pianist Carlo Grante. Photo Credit: Steve J. Sherman

In his detailed and very intelligent program notes, Mr. Grante discusses the layers of accretion that have gathered on these works, and how a newer analytical sense has slowly gained ground, leading to more interpretive choices and greater coherence. I agree with his remarks, and also with his interpretations, and they are just that: interpretations. How refreshing to find such individuality combined with faithful adherence to the score. All this sounds very dry and technical—the result was anything but. Some ladies seated near me were grumbling that he didn’t “sing” enough (meaning ‘bring out the right hand’), the way they had been taught ages ago by their teachers, prior to their giving up lessons. I resisted the temptation to lecture them; to say that he was indeed singing all the principal lines.

People have tried to attach specific programmatic content to the Ballades for over a century-and-a-half, understandable given their literary title deriving from epic poetry, but Chopin himself never alluded to any such storytelling, preferring to do it exclusively through musical construction and scale. This we heard clearly in Mr. Grante’s lucid renditions. The Scherzo (Italian for “joke”) began as a rapid transformation of the Minuet movement in sonatas and symphonies. It has often been remarked that, except for the E Major, Chopin’s Scherzi are some of the “blackest jokes” ever, containing mostly fury instead of humor. Even so, Mr. Grante managed to find qualities of coquettish grace in passages that are usually banged or hurried through.

Mr. Grante’s fluid and rapid fingers absorbed Chopin’s use of the “little” notes, arabesques, filigree, and other ornamental strategies, creating delicious harmonic washes of sound surrounding melodies that are often in the left hand, the one most ignored by amateur pianists. He revealed the contrapuntal mastery of Chopin, one of whose idols was Bach, which is too often glossed over. Mr. Grante also had a great sense of forward propulsion, the result of his firm understanding of the music’s ultimate goal.

Mr. Grante is a Bösendorfer artist, and his choice of instrument ideally suits his strong qualities. The sound was melting and mellow, a sound jaded New York ears used to the brilliance of Steinway may not be accustomed to but should grow familiar with. There were even notes that I wasn’t sure I heard, so delicate was his approach to the keys in certain soft passages. However, this was due to his creating “in the moment” rather than parroting a rehearsed “plan” for each piece.

Mr. Grante’s stage manner is not theatrical. He simply proceeds to reveal the deep structure and feeling embodied in the notes. His phrase-end taperings were spectacular, vocal in nature, adding to the sense of poignancy and nostalgia. There was great strength in the “apotheosis” sections of each Ballade, with never a harsh tone. The Scherzi benefitted a great deal from Mr. Grante’s fluidity and organization; even with their many repetitions, they never felt long.

Two (very) minor quibbles: 1) At times, the ending cadential formulae of the Ballades seemed a bit perfunctory, considering the grand heroic narratives that had preceded them. 2) I would have enjoyed a presentation by opus number, thereby mixing Scherzi and Ballades.

The enthusiastic audience seemed to realize the great gift they were being given. This is no everyday event. Mr. Grante played the wistful Mazurka in A Minor, Op. 68 No.2, written when Chopin was only seventeen, as a ghostly, nostalgic encore, bringing just enough “fatal optimism” in the C Major modal sections.

There are two more evening planned by Mr. Grante in his series “Masters of High Romanticism,” Schumann sonatas, and Brahms variations. I advise lovers of the piano to go.

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

Sang Woo Kang, Pianist in Review

Sang Woo Kang, Piano

Lang Recital Hall, Hunter College, New York, NY

October 16, 2014

Pianist Sang Woo Kang, Chair of the Music Department and Associate Professor of Piano at Providence College, was invited by Hunter College to perform a recital last February (preceded by a master class), but the powers that be had the good sense to postpone it to October due to a blizzard. Having just heard Dr. Kang’s recital, this reviewer can safely say it would have been a shame to limit the audience to one or two intrepid Arctic explorers; in fact, one wished for a still larger audience than there was this month. As hard as such postponements can be, Dr. Kang was razor-sharp in his performances.

On the program were two highly rigorous works of the twentieth-century repertoire, John Corigliano’s Etude Fantasy (1976) and the same composer’s Beethoven-inspired Fantasia on an Ostinato (1985). The latter, commissioned by the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, opened the program. As Mr. Corigliano notes at his website, “I decided that I could investigate the performers’ imagination and musicality … And so I constructed the beginning and end of Fantasia on an Ostinato precisely– the work was a giant arch built upon these foundations– but I made the large central section a series of interlocking repeated patterns: the performer decided the number and, to a certain extent, the character of these repetitions. In other words, the shape was his/hers to build. Interestingly, the duration of this piece varied from 7 minutes to over 20 in the Cliburn performances!”

This reviewer apologizes for not timing Dr. Kang’s version, but it is a good sign that all mindfulness of time was lost in his atmospheric, poetic rendition. Musical material from the second movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony was heard from a twentieth-century viewpoint that was haunting, almost post-apocalyptic in feeling. Dr. Kang made sensitive choices in repetition and dynamics in the middle section to maximize this quality.

The choice of Mozart’s Sonata in C Major, K. 330 to follow was a dramatic and effective one – transitioning from later classical material in a modern, somewhat minimalist, vein to an earlier classicism in which Mozart’s clarity and symmetry stood out in bright contrast. Despite this contrast, Dr. Kang’s Mozart projected an almost Beethovenian style at crucial junctures (surely part of the intended point), and all was more robust in tone than what I normally hear. While I’m not a fan of the porcelain doll delicacy one sometimes hears in Mozart keyboard works, moments were a bit too muscular even for my taste, but there was never any question of Dr. Kang’s pianistic abilities. He has recorded Mozart recently for Naxos, for those wishing to sample his interpretations.

Corigliano’s Etude Fantasy -really five etudes rolled into one- followed. Five sections are devoted respectively to Left Hand, Legato, Fifths to Thirds, Ornaments, and Melody – and they all present formidable challenges. Dr. Kang made child’s play of them, even the first, which exploited his sledgehammer-strong left-hand technique. As a strong admirer of Corigliano, I’ve been very familiar with these works, but I must say, they still need to be performed more, and Dr. Kang has just the kind of strong pianism and keen analytical abilities to do it. He was fearless and solid in his approach. As director of the Piano Institute and Seminar at the Atlantic Music Festival at Colby College, a series focused on the promotion and performance of new music, he has made a substantial commitment in this area, so thanks to him there will be some very fortunate composers out there.

I was puzzled by a few interpretive decisions, including the opting for such a full sound at the close of the Etude No. 3 contrary to markings, but, then again, good contrast was established for the successive movement, entitled Ornaments. The entire work was performed from memory, a challenge in and of itself (in contrast with the Fantasia). Clearly, aside from what seemed a minor omission in the fifth movement, Dr. Kang has absorbed and internalized these complex works in meaningful ways. One wished there had been some chance to hear more of his thoughts on the works, as there were no program notes (or even dates of works on the program), but his comments were cursory. I would love to have heard, for example, any thoughts behind this interesting programming itself.

What I appreciated about the program itself was that, with two substantial Corigliano works opening each half, the standard repertoire that followed felt utterly transformed by what preceded. The lacerating dissonance of Corigliano’s Etude Fantasy lent an even more consoling quality than usual to what followed, Chopin’s D-flat Nocturne, Op. 27, No. 2. The effect was deeply stirring. The playing of Chopin itself was not to me as persuasive as Dr. Kang’s Corigliano, as momentum sometimes supplanted the dreaming quality, leaving some ornaments sounding slightly regimented and the tone less than transcendent, but the overall feeling was there. Chopin’s Polonaise-Fantaisie in A-flat major, Op. 61 concluded the program with sweep.

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

The Douglas and Inyoung Boyd Foundation and The Mason Gross School of the Arts of Rutgers University present A Classical, Jazz, and Chamber Music Extravaganza in Review

The Douglas and Inyoung Boyd Foundation and The Mason Gross School of the Arts of Rutgers University present A Classical, Jazz, and Chamber Music Extravaganza

Min Kwon and Fred Hersch, piano; Yoon Kwon, violin; Jonathan Spitz, cello;

Conrad Herwig, trombone; Timothy Cobb, double bass; Choong-Jin (CJ) Chang, viola

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 6, 2014

Every so often, a leading conservatory or the music department of a university will book one of the leading New York recital halls for the purpose of presenting their talented, hardworking faculty in concert. This serves the double purpose of providing reward in the form of a major public performance, and good advertising for the faculty and institution, who may attract even more students. On October 6, 2014, it was the turn of Rutgers University’s Mason Gross School of the Arts. A large, affectionate crowd traveled from New Brunswick, New Jersey, and were treated to an unusual programming idea, very well played.

The theme of the first half of the concert was mostly tango or tango-inspired, whether stylized by a classical composer, as in Samuel Barber’s Hesitation Tango from his Souvenirs suite, briskly and beautifully played by Min Kwon and Fred Hersch in its original four-hand guise, or by a jazz composer (Mr. Hersch himself) in his Tango Bittersweet, stylishly rendered for piano trio by sisters Min and Yoon Kwon and Jonathan Spitz.

Mr. Hersch’s well-known affinity for Belle Epoque French music was evident in his lush arrangement of Gabriel Fauré’s song Après un rêve (After a dream), which didn’t fit the tango theme, but whose original words are a translation of a Tuscan folk poem about a lover waking in the dark and begging the illusions of a dream of his/her beloved to return. This was gorgeously played by Mr.Hersch and Yoon Kwon, whose playing all evening had the extra measure of brilliance and star quality that so few have, and did not exclude yearning or lyricism. The pair followed with Nove de Julho (Ninth of July), a composition by Brazilian composer Ernesto Nazareth (1863-1934). The day is a holiday in Sao Paulo state, Brazil, for the constitutionalist revolution of 1932. The classically-trained Nazareth championed the “Brazilian tango,” lest everyone think the dances could only originate in neighboring Argentina. Mr. Hersch played one of his own solo compositions, Heartsong, in which clever rhythmic dislocations, cushioned in complex added-tone harmony, propel the melody to a driving climax, which then subsides.

The hardest working pianist of the evening however was Min Kwon, the chair of keyboard studies at Rutgers. Her liquid tone and seamless phrasing made every piece from the arrangements to Schubert’s Trout Quintet a joy to hear. She was a poised, sometimes humorous, and always gracious colleague.

Two arrangements (Argento: Argentinian Dance #2, and Poulenc: Improvisation #15 Hommage à Edith Piaf, both originally for piano) by jazz composer Bill O’Connell (Rutgers faculty) for trombone and piano constituted perhaps the least convincing element of the program. The trombone’s intonation didn’t always match the piano, and I am not referring to intentional bent or “blue” notes or the like. The volume of this very “present” instrument didn’t accord well with the established palette of piano and strings.

Two arrangements and one composition were included by Grammy award-winning composer Robert Livingston Aldridge, who is also on the Rutgers faculty and director of the music department. He was present at the concert, apparently on his sixtieth birthday. On the first half of the program, was his Bossa-Habanera-Jig, a witty romp through the three dances. On the second half, after Schubert’s Trout Quintet, was his arrangement for the same piano quintet forces of Schubert’s epic ballad/song Erlkönig, in which a father gallops a horse swiftly through a dark forest with his young son on his lap. The son is being seductively lured by the supernatural Erlking. If he gives in, he will die. At first the father is doubtful, but he quickly realizes the seriousness of the boy’s pleas, racing even faster to reach an inn, but it is too late. In his arms, the child lies dead. If you wonder how such a story can even be told without its vocal part, all you have to do is hear this arrangement, in which the characters of the instruments all paint the story vividly. The rendition was fiery and convincing.

Prior to this Erlkönig, and constituting the majority of the second half, was indeed the so-called Trout Quintet by Schubert, whose fourth movement is a set of variations on what had been his “greatest hit song” composed two years earlier. The quintet was written for home music making in the Austrian alpine resort town of Steyr, for an amateur cellist who, according to contemporary comment could “barely negotiate” the cello part. No such worries here, however. All the players had technique to spare, and lavished it on this jovial work. I could have used a little more Gemütlichkeit, homey ease, perhaps not so driven, and with more contrast. There wasn’t enough pianissimo, but the sheer joy of their performance was convincing, and they looked collegially at each other, truly relishing their musical (and academic) partnership.

One encore, another Aldridge arrangement of Harold Arlen’s Somewhere Over the Rainbow was ecstatically played by the Kwon sisters, the violin’s final notes becoming even more ethereal, higher and higher, a perfect ending.

How very lucky are the students of such a fine music department to have these (and I’m sure many other) artists to inspire them.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York presents Tzu-Yi Chen in Review

Distinguished Concerts International New York presents Tzu-Yi Chen

Tzu-Yi Chen, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 11, 2014

A magnificent recital took place on October 11 by Taipei-born pianist Tzu-Yi Chen. I am going to have to discipline myself not to use every superlative in the first paragraph. Suffice it to say that, in a wide-ranging program, she displayed not only the usual technical command one expects, but beautiful tone, total artistic involvement, deep feeling, stylistic understanding, and in an era of cookie-cutter musicians, the feeling of spontaneity, even risk, that makes an evening truly memorable, often electrifying.

The first half of the recital was devoted to “classicism/variation” and the second half to “programmatic illustration.”

Ms. Chen opened with a jewel of late Mozart, Nine Variations in D major on a Minuet by Jean-Pierre Duport, K. 573, written in 1789 to curry favor for possible employment in Potsdam, to a minuet tune by Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm’s cellist. The theme, ninety percent of which -adheres only to notes found in the tonic triad, was presented with limpid grace, perfect phrasing, and breathing that never went overboard. Each variation unfolded with a plan, yet managed to sound as if she was improvising it on the spot. Each repeat was taken, with subtle and tasteful color differences that never overstepped the vocabulary of the period. In the heart-rending D Minor variation, Ms. Chen inhabited it as if it was a lost lament intended for Pamina in Die Zauberflöte, with the fatality of the Neapolitan sixth chord experienced deeply. Next came one of middle-period Brahms’ more massive creations, the Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Handel, Op. 24. Even from the opening notes of the original Handel, Ms. Chen presented the audience with the sound world of Brahms, an interpretation with which I agree. Every single tempo change and nuance was observed, with never a feeling of over-planning. The music simply seemed to be welling up from some secret source within her. Her sense of lyricism and rubato was beautiful. Her pedaling created sophisticated mixtures of harmony, which are specified by Brahms or at least implied by the notation. I can only single out a few highlights from this giant work: Var. VI, the misterioso was the spookiest I’ve ever heard; Var. XII, the soave was indeed suave; Var. XIV, the sciolto (literally: unbound, or non-legato) was ecstatic; Var. XXII, the Musette floated on a cloud of B-Flat; the mad whirling of Var. XXIV was hair-raising. The fugue was presented as a grand quasi-orchestral sonority, complete with majestic bell-ringing.

After intermission, Ms. Chen played the Suite Astrologique for Piano by a fellow-countryperson, Lan-In Winnie Yang (b. 1980). I’m glad the composer didn’t feel the need to follow the calendar, but arranged the twelve short vignettes, one for each sign, in an order that allows the music to flow best. Her work has many audible influences, Scriabin, Chopin, Schoenberg, Rachmaninoff, even a wink here and there to jazz or ragtime, but it manages to remain original and atmospheric, especially when confided to the rich tonal palette of Ms. Chen. If one had stripped the titles from each piece and simply called the totality “Suite,” I feel it still would have had impact. Ms. Chen closed with the titanic Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky, illustrations in music of artworks by a recently deceased friend of the composer, Victor Hartmann. From the opening notes of the first “Promenade” (Mussorgsky’s unifying device that represents walking through the gallery from picture to picture), she became a completely authoritative “Russian” pianist in tone and brilliance. She really opened up for this work’s fierce demands, but always put the emotional content first. One of my favorite sections, not the loudest or fastest, has always been “Catacombs: Con Mortuis in Lingua Mortua” (With the Dead in a Dead Language), which Ms. Chen played as though she herself had either invented the catacomb many thousands of years ago, or been trapped in one. The audience rose to award her a richly deserved standing ovation after she dispatched the octaves of the “Hut on Fowl’s Legs (Baba-Yagá)” with ferocity, and the “Great Gate of Kiev” was depicted triumphantly.

She favored us with two encores, first the final movement of the Ginastera Piano Sonata No.1, Op. 22, marked Ruvido ed ostinato (rough and obstinate), which was white-hot, and played with both total abandon and control, if that’s not too paradoxical. In the second encore, the Bach/Busoni Ich ruf zu Dir, Herr Jesu Christ emerged as a plaintive call of homesickness to her native country. She has traveled much for her training: Paris, Germany, and she now resides in Washington DC, where she must bring great joy and fine instruction to her students in the Levine School of Music. I would like to hear some of French repertoire the next time she appears and there certainly will be many, many more times.

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

S&R Foundation presents Char Prescott and Ryo Yanagitani in Review

Char Prescott, cello; Ryo Yanagitani, piano

The Kennedy Center – Millennium Stage, Washington, DC

September 12, 2014

The Kennedy Center’s Millennium Stage has earned the remarkable record of having presented a free concert every afternoon at 6pm, 365 days a year (possibly minus a snow day or two), for more than fifteen years. The concerts cover an enormous range of music and dance genres and I must say, if they’ve all been as good as Friday afternoon’s cello and piano duo, Char Prescott and Ryo Yanagitani, then as a New Yorker I’ve really been missing something.

The concert was sponsored by the S&R Foundation, a Washington, DC based charity that is the philanthropic arm of two very unusual individuals, Drs. Sachiko Kuno and Ryuji Ueno, a pair of biochemists who have plowed profits from their highly successful pharmaceutical patents into supporting the arts. They have created an artist-in-residence program along with a concert series at Everymay, the grand Federal-Era estate in Georgetown that they purchased and renovated in 2011, and a kind of entrepreneurship academy at Halcyon House, another historic home they own nearby. The glorious sounding 19th century Italian cello played by Char Prescott is on loan to her from the pair as well.

Ms. Prescott and Mr. Yanagitani opened their program with the second of the three Sonatas for Viola da Gamba — in D Major, BWV 1028 — by J. S. Bach. Gambas are not too commonly found these days, so performances tend to take place on the cello, either with the original harpsichord as accompanying instrument or, in this case, piano. The use of a modern piano can create balance problems, but in pianist Ryo Yanagitani’s hands, the complex interweaving of contrapuntal lines emerged cleanly and without overmatching his partner. The phrasing and dynamics in the duo’s performance tilted a little towards the romantic for my taste, but that’s a quibble. The sinuous interplay of the musical lines in this work makes a good case for some leeway in articulation, so I don’t really blame them for indulging a little. The result was an enchanting reading.

Written in 1886, during a happy and productive summer Johannes Brahms spent in the dramatic lake and mountain scenery of Thun, Switzerland, the Sonata No. 2 for Piano and Cello in F Major, Op. 99 reflects his sunny state of mind. His exuberant score provides plenty of opportunities for virtuoso playing to both performers, particularly in the monumentally difficult piano part, perhaps why the piano is named first in the title. There are generally two styles of performances in this piece: one in which the players hurl themselves at it full throttle in the most dramatic way, and the second which prizes charm and elegance over punch. Prescott and Yanagitani chose the second way, and theirs was a reading that let the honey gold tone of Ms. Prescott’s cello shine through. Mr. Yanagitani demonstrated a control of the thickly written piano part from the sometimes hushed, sometimes brilliant tremolos of the first movement to the whirling triplet chords of the scherzo to the sun-streaked finale that was really impressive.

Béla Bartók’s Six Romanian Folk Dances written in 1915 for piano solo and played in an arrangement for cello and piano closed the program. Here Ms. Prescott got to show off her command of the instrument’s sonic possibilities and, as was the case throughout the afternoon, Mr. Yanagitani provided just the right support. These two artists have clearly played together long enough to completely internalize this repertoire, and their absolute security and deep knowledge of the music communicates real pleasure to their audience. I was certainly happy to have been there.

by Timothy Gilligan for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

The Kosciuszko Foundation presents “Musical Life of Galicia” in Review

The Kosciuszko Foundation presents “Musical Life of Galicia”

The Rubinstein Players

Tatiana Chulochnikova, violin; Maria Lyapkova, piano

The Kosciuszko Foundation, New York, NY

September 7, 2014

The Rubinstein Players, named for composer Anton Rubinstein, gave a well-played recital of three musical “footnotes” and one canonized master. At the outset, let me say that the two players function beautifully as a duo, with unanimity of thought and feeling. Ms. Chulochnikova has a real feel for the grammar of the Classical period. Her phrasing and intonation were true and singing. Her partner, Ms. Lyapkova, also plays with great sensitivity, although a bit too heavy at times.

Galicia, not to be confused with the province of present-day northwest Spain, was a loosely defined area, belonging to what we call today Poland, Ukraine, even Austro-Hungary.

The theme of “Galicia” was honored in unusual repertory choices. I had never heard a work by Ukrainian-born Maxim Berezovsky (1745-1777), who died at thirty-two, even younger than W.A. Mozart. His Sonata however chugged along somewhat automatically, except for more lyricism in the slow movement, never straying too far from tonic/dominant clichés. This work, for harpsichord and violin, could really have benefited from an early keyboard sound, as could the whole program. The performers’ biographies state that they are “equally at home” with period as well as modern instruments. The piano sounded heavy rather than bustling.

Next they played the Sonata for Violin and Piano, Op. 15, by the youngest son of W.A. Mozart: Franz Xaver (1791-1841, born only a few months prior to his father’s untimely death). He studied with Antonio Salieri, which should put an end to the “Amadeus” discussions of Salieri’s having poisoned W.A. Unfortunately for his well-meaning son, the father cast a long shadow. The son’s work has moments of grace, but the ideas don’t really flow inevitably and there is a certain squareness of phrase structure, which couldn’t be masked, even by the sensitive rendition the duo brought to it.

After intermission, the quality of pieces and performances lifted tremendously. First, with the Sonata by Chopin’s teacher, Jozef Elsner (1769-1854), which had Classical gestures but also a capricious harmonic novelty that seemed pre-Schubertian at times. He was born forty-one years before Chopin, and survived his famous pupil by five years. Elsner was born in Poland, but always insisted that he be identified as Silesian, not Galician. The Sonata was given a sterling performance, and there was no balance issue with the piano.

Finally, the great Sonata in G Major, Op. 30, No.3, by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), who I’m pretty certain would have bristled at being called “Galician.” Born in Bonn, he expatriated himself to Vienna by his early twenties. Again, the oneness of the two players made the most of this often hacked-through work. If anything, it could have used just the extra ounce of impetuous fire that truly wakens middle-period Beethoven. The tempi were cautious—the first movement lacked the assai (very) of the Allegro assai. The second movement, marked Tempo di Minuetto, wound up sounding strangely sleepy, largely as a result of their honoring Beethoven’s “second direction” for the movement: “but very moderate and grazioso.” The finale, which is often played way too fast, is marked Allegro vivace, and again here the initial piano figuration is marked piano (softly) and leggiero (lightly). It was far too heavy, which would not have been an issue at a faster clip. Ms. Lyapkova was excellent, however, in the first two movements, whose difficult figurations held no terrors for her.

The duo favored the audience with an encore, Romance, by their namesake Anton Rubinstein. Here, the violinist’s tone suddenly bloomed into the dark plush Russian romantic sound I associate with her Moscow training. Their ensemble was perfect in this delightful bonbon. I hope these two players will consider lavishing their immense gifts on music of greater interest, while continuing to present unusual works too.

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

Christoph Denoth, guitar in Review

Christoph Denoth, guitar

SubCulture, New York, NY

September 4, 2014

What better way to begin a new concert season than to attend a wonderful performance in one of New York’s new concert venues? The performer: Swiss guitarist Christoph Denoth. The music: works by the English composers John Dowland (1563-1626) and Benjamin Britten, Spaniards Manuel de Falla, Joaquin Turina, Isaac Albéniz, and the Brazilian Heitor Villa-Lobos. The venue: an intimate performance space with a bar in NoHo at 45 Bleeker Street.

A comfortable basement space, SubCulture is a perfect venue for an intimate guitar recital. (The festival of piano music scheduled for the month of September should also be a great fit.) Although Mr. Denoth was surrounded by microphones, the sound from where I sat seemed natural and unamplified. When, after the concert, I spoke to the sound engineer, he told me that the microphones were for a radio broadcast of the performance. I suggested that the audience should be forewarned when broadcast microphones appear on stage during concerts that shouldn’t have amplification. I also mentioned that even though the presence of a bar makes SubCulture more informal than a traditional “concert hall,” piped in music (cool jazz this night) right before and after the recital is not a good idea. Music such as we heard tonight needs a no-music frame of silence before and after the performance.

Christoph Denoth has performed in concert halls all over the world, as a solo artist and in collaboration with orchestras, chamber groups and singers. He is sought after as a teacher and is now on the faculty of the Royal Academy of Music in London. This evening’s performance showed why. A master of his instrument, he performed with great technical skill, spinning out well-shaped melodic lines with crystal clear, often thrilling, accompaniments. He drew from his instrument so many different colors that one often thought there was more than one guitarist on stage.

The recital began with guitar arrangements of four works for lute by John Dowland. They included a setting of the melody of a popular ballad of the times and of one by Dowland himself, a dance, and a fantasy. These delightful works, elegantly performed, were the perfect vehicle to enable the audience to “tune their ears” to the softer end of the guitar’s dynamic range. This was followed by Manuel de Falla’s Homenaje – Tombeau de Debussy. (A tombeau is a musical composition commemorating the death of a notable individual.) Although one couldn’t know it at the time, Mr. Denoth’s performance of this work marked the beginning of his ever increasing creation of more and more beautiful and interesting guitar colors.

Benjamin Britten’s Nocturnal after John Dowland, Op.70, uses as its inspiration Dowland’s lute song “Come Heavy Sleep.” Commissioned by the legendary English guitarist Julian Bream, the work makes great demands on the performer. Mr. Denoth was up to the challenge and performed with assurance and consummate musicality. Each of the eight movements utilizes tiny motives and fragments from Dowland’s song, but the complete song is not heard until the end of the work. Although I’ve conducted “Come Heavy Sleep” in Dowland’s arrangement for four voices, I had great difficulty figuring out what was going on musically. It just sounded like a series of guitar effects, beautifully played, but having little to do with Dowland’s song.

Next came what, for me, was the program’s high point: a performance of four of the Cinq Préludes by Heitor Villa-Lobos. Villa-Lobos knew what was idiomatic to the guitar and Mr. Denoth reveled in this wonderful writing. It was joyous and compelling music-making. In Prélude No.1 (Homage to Back-Country Brazil) Mr. Denoth beautifully contrasted the sound of the long melodic line and the chordal accompaniment. The melody first appeared in the bass with the chords above. When it returned, now in the soprano, the color of the melody was again quite different from that of the accompaniment. The Préludes were not performed in the published order. The next, Prélude No.4, featured mysterious harmonics; No.3 was expressive and beautifully phrased. The wild strumming at the end of No.2 brought the set to a stirring conclusion.

The recital ended with three popular works familiar to most of the audience, Joaquin Turina’s Sevillana (Fantasia) Op.29, and Isaac Albéniz’s Granada and Asturias. The program didn’t mention that the two Albéniz works were originally written for piano in 1890 and arranged for guitar after his death in 1909. I was wrong in thinking it would be difficult to maintain the excitement created by the Villa-Lobos Préludes. These last three works were a thrilling ending to the concert proper.

The Spanish aspect to the program continued with the first encore, an idiomatic performance of Joaquin Malats’s Serenata Española, another work written for piano but later transcribed for guitar. It seems that, in their nationalistic works, Spanish composers sought to have the piano imitate the most Spanish of instruments. This evening’s arrangements for guitar only bought these works closer to their roots. A final work by Dowland, Mr. Dowland’s Midnight, brought this wonderful concert to a gentle close.

by Harry Saltzman for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

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Category: Reviews

Coudert Institute presents Alexander Beridze in Review

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S&R Foundation presents Char Prescott and Ryo Yanagitani in Review

The Kosciuszko Foundation presents “Musical Life of Galicia” in Review

Christoph Denoth, guitar in Review