Rosa Antonelli, Pianist in Review

Rosa Antonelli, Pianist in Review
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
October 15, 2011
Rosa Antonelli

Rosa Antonelli

Rosa Antonelli, an excellent Argentinean pianist, presented a recital of mostly Argentine and Spanish composers at Carnegie Hall (Stern Auditorium), a concert benefiting Action Against Hunger.  Ms. Antonelli, according to the bio in the printed program, “is enjoying an active and varied career.” She has made extensive tours of Europe, Africa, Asia, Latin and North America. Hailed as a leading exponent of Latin American composers, performing works by such masters as Piazzolla, Ugarte, Gineo, Guestavino–among others–to audiences all over the world.

The concert opened with Floro Ugarte (1884-1975): his Two Preludes from “Suite de Mi Terra” (Suite of My Land). Ugarte, born in Buenos Aires, studied in Paris with Albert Lavignac and later became one of the principal organizers and conductors of the Colon Theater at the National Society of Music and the Superior School of Fine Arts at the University of La Plata. His Suite, composed in 1923, was inspired by the poems of the Argentine writer Estanislao del Campo and was originally written for orchestra. This suite consists of three parts: the first, in Animato tempo, captures the motion of weeping willow trees and their shadows, depicting a scene of melancholy contentment. The second part, in Lento Tempo, describes with dramatic intensity the approaching darkness as night begins to fall. (In 1934, Ugarte wrote a second series of “de Mi Terra” for orchestra.

Next came Four Tangos by Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992): Rio Sena; Sentido nico; Milonga del Angel; Chao, Paris. Piazzolla’s music has become increasingly ubiquitous and popular–almost a case of familiarity breeding contempt. He studied in New York City with Bela Wilde, and then–upon his return to Argentina in 1940–with Alberto Ginastera and Nadia Boulanger in Paris. (After intermission, two more Piazzolla Tangos, written in 1963, were heard. Ms. Antonelli’s performance at this concert was the World Premiere of the original piano version.)

Another Argentinean, Carlos Guastavino (1912-2000), followed the first four Piazzolla Tangos with Two Preludes: “El Patio” and “El Sauce from La Siesta.” “La Siesta” is a compilation of three Preludes, each depicting a different scene. The description in “El Patio” evokes the memory of J. Aguirre and depicts the traditional Argentinean weeping trees with soft flowing leaves whispering in the wind. The first half of the program ended with two works by Enrique Granados (1867-1916): his Epilogo from “Escenas Romanticas” and Allegro de Concierto.

After intermission, we heard two early compositions by Isaac Albeniz (1860-1907): Grenada from his “Suite Espanola”, Op. 47; and “L’Automne Waltz”, Op. 170. Ms. Antonelli played all these compositions ‘con amore’. She is a dyed-in-the-wool Romantic Lyricist. Her always aurally beautiful and caressing pianism uses a lot of color via the sustaining pedal; she molds phrases with enormous flexibility, and there was never a hint of harsh, ugly or astringent glint to her lush singing tone. My only quibble was that her deeply poetic interpretations were sometimes a mite too soft-grained and unassertive when I might have preferred to hear more brilliance and extroverted rhythmic thrust. The Granados “Allegro di Concierto” is often played with more virtuoso thrust, and the popular Tres Danzas Argentinas of Alberto Ginastera (1916-1983)– the third Danza del Gaucho Matrero, especially–could have been rendered with more stampeding clarity (as it usually is). On the other hand, Ms. Antonelli’s inward poetry forced me to rehear, and revalue, Piazzolla’s Tangos, which she infused with an eloquence and inner communication that, in truth, has sometimes eluded me.

Postludes to a memorably well-played evening, Ms. Antonelli’s flowing, songful rendition of the early Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, Op. Posth. was an ideally fitting encore.

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by Harris Goldsmith  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Hilda Huang, Pianist in Review

Hilda Huang, Pianist in Review
Presented by The Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition
Faust Harrison Piano Salon, New York, NY
October 15, 2011
Hilda Huang

Hilda Huang

When the young Rosalyn Tureck submitted “The Well-Tempered Clavier” (in place of the single prelude-and-fugue Bach requirement, as her sister Marge used to tell) for her Juilliard entrance examination, she was prematurely aware of her life’s calling and her indefatigable dedication to Bach performance. A career path forged with determination and more than an ounce of friction helped to provide a smooth ride for many of the world’s future single-genre repertoire specialists, men as well as women.

The young Tureck withstood recalcitrant managers and presenters, staid record producers, inattentive sound engineers, prudish musicologists and opportunists alike, with a sense of ownership and oracular prophecy for the perpetuation of her ideal. Tureck’s message, conveyed on a piano and occasionally on other keyboard instruments through meticulous finger articulation and dynamic control, an unwavering sense of rhythm (coupled with an avant-garde Baroque rubato), stylized ornamentation, and faultless memory, was nevertheless Old World: at its heart, her motivation for the mastery of Bach pianism stemmed from a fear of comparison with her harpsichordist archetype, Wanda Landowska. As her detractors called for more spontaneity or parodied her reported séances with the composer, Tureck (who lived until 2003) wrote and edited pedagogical texts and branched out into Busoni and contemporary music, while remaining “the high priestess of Bach,” with a lifetime decoration from the German government (a decoration which she once left behind in my room after a stay, despite her faultless memory). Her legacy took hold in the adulation of audiences, record collectors, university scholars, and, from her point of view, imitators who similarly devised their own mystical personae and interpretative fetishes. Having captured the mantle of Landowska, Tureck was increasingly wary of the eclipsing notoriety of Glenn Gould, which threatened to usurp her unregistered patent on articulation and eccentricity.

With the younger generation (as well as the afterlife) in mind, Tureck laid the groundwork for an international Bach competition which has succeeded in gathering an ardent following of the highest caliber. The Grand Prize Winner of the 2010 session (the competition’s second cycle) is Hilda Huang, now 15, who gave an all-Bach recital at the Faust Harrison Piano Salon on Saturday evening. Performing to a filled room on a pair of beautifully restored pianos at close range, Huang sailed with supreme comfort and assurance through some of the most intricate and eclectic of Bach’s keyboard works, building to a consummate rendition of the Sixth English Suite, BWV 811. (The latter was a last-minute substitution for the originally programmed No. 5, on the advice of her San Francisco mentor, John McCarthy.) Huang already holds title to a Bach prize from Wurzburg, Germany, and would be any jury’s first choice; her flair for counterpoint and understanding of harmony are displayed with ebullience and such crisply designed fingerwork that, for stretches of the concert, I thought I was hearing Her in reincarnation.

There are subtle differences, of course. Unincorporated into Huang’s style are the pointed agogic accents that Tureck used so frequently to dramatize facets of the score; absent are the elegantly meditative lilts of allemande and courante, the poignant whispers of the sarabande, the quarter-pedals with sliding fingers. Rolled chords anticipate their beats neatly, rather than announcing the thumb in a sardonic moment of Tureckian glee. Huang is so upbeat and refreshing—lest one forget her age—that we strain to hear bittersweetness in passages of free rhythm or chromaticism. A fugue subject is a fugue subject—albeit one with a descending tenor foreshadowing the inexorable—but that will certainly come later, perhaps when Huang is sixteen. Her extroversion is alluring for its boldness of sonority and arching crescendi, which Tureck shunned, but which create such a satisfying concept of formal structure in Huang’s playing. This young artist will be thrilling to watch as her perfection extends to embrace the audience, as she experiments with triumphant endings and risky sound effects. For now, she is a phenomenon.

The Bach scene has undergone revisions since Tureck broke new ground. The path is familiar, and modern Bach players may virtually dial-an-approach according to their respective tastes. Indeed, the irregularity of the Baroque “oddly shaped pearl” is out of place in a competition setting and difficult to reconcile with our need for quantifiable elements in a society obsessed with order. But Rosalyn cautioned against too much order: too much perfection is Bach’s hereafter—Mozart.

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by Emily White  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Louise Dubin, Cellist in Review

Louise Dubin, Cellist in Review
Forgotten Treasures by Franchomme and Chopin
John Street Church; New York, NY
September 29, 2011

Louise Dubin

Louise Dubin, a fine cellist who studied with Ardith Alton, Aldo Parisot, Timothy Eddy and Janos Starker, based her thesis on Auguste Franchomme (1808-1884). She has just completed her dissertation on the French cellist and romantic composer to fulfill her Doctoral requirements at Indiana University’s School of Music in Bloomington, and she is the school’s first music performance student to receive two grants for doctoral  research from the university, which funded the research trip to France where she met descendants of Franchomme and discovered much of the music heard at the concert under review. Franchomme, the most distinguished cellist of the era, is not exactly forgotten, but is best remembered as being the dedicatee of Chopin’s Cello Sonata, Op. 65 and, ergo, the great composer’s dearest friend. Franchomme, of course, left no recorded legacy of his performances, but Ms. Dubin’s research has retrieved Franchomme’s own music, and she has just made a commercial recording for the Eroica Classical label of Franchomme’s music, most of which has never been recorded or published. Moreover, Ms. Dubin’s intense and perceptive work has unearthed clues of Franchomme’s probable performance style by way of his fingerings and bowings, having an impact on sound production and an emotional impact on performance.

The September 29th recital began with two of Franchomme’s own pieces: one of his Caprices, Op. 7 No. 9, a fine specimen undoubtedly inspired by Paganini’s famous 24 Caprices, Op. 1 for solo violin, composed circa 1804 and published in1820. Franchomme obviously owes much to Paganini’s models. But its highly contrapuntal style also harks back to J.S. Bach’s unaccompanied Cello Suites. The Caprice was followed by a vivacious set of Variations on an Irish Air, Op. 25 for Cello and Piano, which commenced with a brief introduction and evolved into the theme itself– dancelike and energetic–and a lively numerous set of variants. Ms. Dubin’s excellent performances–likewise, the aforementioned Caprice–was a joy to savor, and Hiroko Sasaki’s cooperation at the piano worked beautifully as a Duo. (Her little asides and comments added immensely to the performance’s effectiveness.) Likewise, Franchomme’s “Fantaisie on Mozart’s Enchanted Flute,” Op. 49 at the end of the printed program (“The Zauberflote” or “Magic Flute”; Franchomme spent much of his career playing in the pit of the Paris Opera Orchestra at the Theatre Italien and in the court of King Louis Philippe). The Fantaisie interpolates parts of the overture and some of the arias heard in the opera itself. Again, Ms. Dubin and Ms. Sasaki worked beautifully together (and I was surprised to learn that the two protagonists had not previously played together before this concert.)

The rest of the concert, mostly Franchomme’s arrangements of Chopin’s treasures (the Nocturne, Op. 55 No. 1, the Funeral March from the Sonata Op. 35, the Mazurka, Op. 33 No.3, and the Prelude, Op. 28 No. 20), were hardly flattered by Franchomme’s tepid and servile recasting for cello and piano (Op. 55 No.1). Moreover, his recasting for Cello Quartet (of the Op. 35 and Op. 28 No. 20) sorely missed some of the ‘di rigeur’ percussiveness of the original piano, and the Second Ballade, Op. 38 was almost laughable (it turned out to be just the piece’s swaying opening theme.) The Cello Quartet, Ms. Dubin; Katherine Cherbas; Saeunn Thorsteindottir and Sarah Hewitt-Roth, also played Franchomme’s adaptations of Schumann’s “Soldier’s March” (from his Album for the Young) and the Can Can from Offenbach’s “Orpheus in the Underworld.”

On the one hand, Liszt’s audacious genius–like it or not–often imparted a vibrant life to the music of other composers that Franchomme’s more modest gifts simply could not do. But the great violinist Nathan Milstein did fashion a more compelling and interesting arrangement of an early Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, Op. Posthumous. (Franchomme’s dutiful “arrangements” did nothing at all.) Mendelssohn’s own “Song without Words” for cello and piano was far more palatable for this listener. Ms. Dubin and Ms. Sasaki played it beautifully.

All told, this concert faute de mieux was worthwhile, mostly for the three original Franchomme pieces. And I am eagerly looking forward to Ms. Dubin’s imminent recording.

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by Harris Goldsmith  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

SongFusion in Review

SongFusion in Review
Christ Church, New York, NY
October 7, 2011

SongFusion

For this concert, the five members of SongFusion (sopranos Victoria Bowers and Mary Mackenzie, baritone Michael Kelly, pianists Liza Stepanova and Kathleen Tagg) were joined by seven guest artists in a program titled “Uncommon Prayer, An Evening of Art Songs Exploring Spirituality Around the Globe.” From beginning to end we heard fine performances by thirteen highly skilled musicians who had clearly worked very hard to put together and rehearse this well-constructed recital. 

In the printed program we read that “SongFusion is a New York-based ensemble dedicated to presenting a wide range of art song repertoire in innovative ways.” The key word here is “innovative.” The first two of these innovations – “programs that explore familiar themes from unexpected angles” and “collaborating with instrumentalists…” – have been part of many art song recitals for quite a long time, and do not create a radical break with earlier traditions. Three other types of collaborators were listed – dancers, actors and visual artists –but none of these were present on tonight’s recital.

 The first set of the evening was called “Religious Songs,” and began with a performance of Maurice Ravel’s “Kaddish,” a setting in Hebrew of the mourner’s prayer. Baritone Michael Kelly performed the work from the left side of a darkened stage which was lit only by candles. This led me to expect that lighting effects would be an important part of the “innovative” nature of this concert. But attempts at “dramatic lighting” only appeared during the six “Religious Songs.” Mr. Kelly, accompanied by pianist Lisa Stepanova, gave us a heartfelt performance of “Kaddish.” His voice is expertly produced with beautiful colors in all parts of his range. Unfortunately, the house lights were also out, making it impossible to read the well laid-out texts and translations in the printed program.

Three songs by Hugo Wolf, arranged for soprano and organ by Max Reger, followed. Quite diatonic, I would never have guessed that these works were by Wolf. But they gave a chance for guest performer Ryan Jackson to show us what the Christ Church organ can do. They were sung with warmth and poise by soprano Mary Mackenzie. The first set concluded with two selections from “Four Hymns” for tenor, viola and piano by Ralph Vaughan-Williams, performed by guest artists Brenton Ryan, tenor, and Edward Klorman, viola, with SongFusion pianist Kathleen Tagg. Although Vaughan-Williams is thought to have what many think is a rather bland harmonic style, I found these pieces far more interesting than the Wolf songs. Mr. Ryan sang beautifully, with confident and well-produced high notes. The sense of ensemble between the various performers in this and all other works on this concert was of the highest quality.

The rest of the first half was called “A Portrait of Composer Libby Larsen.” We heard “Saints Without Tears” (1976) performed with fine diction and sparkle by soprano Victoria Bowers and guest artists Henrik Heide, flute and Heungwon Oh, bassoon; “Lord. Make Me an Instrument” (1996) performed by Michael Kelly and Lisa Sepanova, and “Donal Oge” (2011) performed by Mary Mackenzie and Kathleen Tagg. This was the New York premiere of this last work, commissioned by SongFusion. This set was preceded by a rambling and effusive paean to the composer, delivered by a member of SongFusion. I know that performers have been urged to “break down the barrier” between themselves and the audience by speaking between musical numbers. Unfortunately, this evening, these intra-performance speeches were embarrassingly amateurish, in contrast to the thoroughly professional singing and playing. And although the performances of Larsen’s music were up to the standard of that of the previous works, I find her music uninteresting. But the house lights were finally raised so that from now on we could read the printed texts.

The major set of the second half was called “The Spirit of Foreign Lands.” Although the texts of two of the three sets of songs, Karol Szymanowski’s “Songs of the Infatuated Muezzin” (Arabia) and John Harbison’s “Mirabai Songs” (India) fit in quite well with the concert’s theme of “Spirituality Around the Globe,” I’m not sure how the erotic, anti-colonialist, exotic texts of Ravel’s “Chansons Madégasses” belong. But no matter, as this was one of the concert’s high points. Guest artist mezzo-soprano Naomi O’Connell’s rich voice beautifully conveyed the sensuality and passion of these wonderful Ravel songs, and she was ably supported by flutist Henrik Heide, cellist Andrew Janass and SongFusion pianist Lisa Stepanova.

A short Epilogue, the vocal quartet with piano: “Two Priests” from John Musto’s “Book of Uncommon Prayer,” brought the concert to a rollicking conclusion.

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

The Hope and Love Concert in New York City in Review

The Hope and Love Concert in New York City
Ji-Hae Park, violin
Ji-Eun Baek, accompanist
Sae-Nal Lea Kim, guest accompanist
Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall
October 10, 2011

Ji-Hae

In a concert entitled “The Hope and Love Concert in New York City,” which was produced by Double J Ent., violinist Ji-Hae Park dazzled and thoroughly entertained her audience in a most versatile program. Her stage persona is extremely charismatic and emotional, and she was able to bring out all the stylistic and dynamic contrasts of her varied composers. Her program ranged from Saint-Saens to Mozart and Rachmaninoff to Korean composer Je Myung Hyun and “Chim Chim Cheree” from the musical “Mary Poppins.”  

In this song from “Poppins,” Park brought out the music’s mystery and sweeping lyricism. The mood lighting also helped with just the right ambience. In Richard Strauss’s early Violin Sonata in E-flat, Op. 18, she combined a virtuoso technique with a luxurious Romanticism, and confirmed that this youthful yet masterful work is worthy of regular performances. Physically, as well as musically, she keeps the audience entranced with her body language—either swaying horizontally or sometimes swooping as low as possible to the stage. Her range is stunning; she sounds brilliant at the top of her register, and remarkably rich and dark on the low G-String.

Another highlight of the program was the fiendishly difficult, free-wheeling work: Saint-Saens’ “Danse Macabre.” Here, she offered a virtuoso technique plus great intensity to the melody’s chromaticism and swirling dance patterns. “Souvenir de Korea,” arranged with finesse by Park herself, is a beautiful work. Je Myung Hyun’s “To the Land of Hope:  Hui Mang Ui Na Ra Ro” is an appropriate choice for this program, which is designed to bring people together; her goal, as stated in her program notes, is to use the violin as an instrument to spread the gospel and love of God to as many people as possible. She also makes every effort to unite audiences by incorporating classical, pop music, traditional Korean folk tunes and gospel music, among other styles, on concerts as well as on her recordings. Some of the many accolades she has received include becoming the ambassador of The Korean Christian Art and Music Council, The Handong Global University, and The Africa Future Foundation.

Park was born in Germany in 1985. She plays on the Petrus Guarnerius 1735 Venedig, on loan to her from the German Foundation since 2003. She was the first prize winner of the National Music Competition of Germany Jugend Musiziert in 2001 (solo) and 2002 (chamber music), among many other prizes. She studied with Professor Ulf Hoelscher at the Karlsruhe Musikhochschule in Germany and Professor Jamie Laredo at Indiana University, where she received a full scholarship. Her accompanists Ji-Eun Baek and Sae-Nal Lea Kim gave her excellent support, and the audience on hand was enthusiastic throughout the concert.

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

Nadejda Vlaeva Pianist in Review

Nadejda Vlaeva, piano
YASI Piano Salon; New York, NY
October 4, 2011

Nadejda Vlaeva

Nadejda Vlaeva, a Bulgarian pianist who studied at The Sofia Music School, The Sofia Music Academy, The Sweelinck Conservatorium in Amsterdam and The Manhattan School of Music with teachers Antoanetta Arsova, Anton Dikov, Jan Wijn, and Ruth Laredo (she also worked closely with Lazar Berman), played unusual fare on her recital at YASI Piano Salon on October 4th—a program co-hosted by the American Liszt Society NY/NJ Chapter and the Yamaha Artists Service.

Ms. Vlaeva, who resides in New York, has extensive concert experience in Bulgaria, Russia, Slovakia, Hungary, The Netherlands, Germany, England, Spain, Barbados, Canada and the United States, and she has garnered extravagant encomiums from conductor Hans Graf (“her musicality and the depth of her interpretation amazed me”), Guarneri Quartet Primarius Arnold Steinhardt (“One of the people of extraordinary ability whom we hope for but rarely see”) and Lazar Berman (a “God Given” talent). She has made several CDs for MSR Classics, the Bulgarian Gega New Series, and her latest release for Hyperion.

Six of the 13 Bach/Saint-Saens transcriptions formed the first group on the recital program: the Recitative and Air from Cantata No. 30; from the Violin Partita No. 3; the Largo from the Violin Sonata No. 3; the Bouree from the Violin Partita No. 1; the Adagio from Cantata No. 3; and the Overture from Cantata No. 29 “Wir danken dir Gott,” BWV 29. Nowadays, concertgoers are accustomed to the heavy gravy of Bach-Busoni or Bach-Liszt, so I found it refreshing and fascinating to hear Bach’s music with a light mayonnaise dressing (Romantic to be sure, but French rather than Germanic). The aforementioned Overture from Cantata No. 29 turned to be none other than a D Major transcription of the ubiquitous Preludio to the E Major Violin Partita; what a world of difference–harmonically and stylistically–between Rachmaninoff’s (“Bachmaninoff’s”) arrangement of the selfsame piece! Ms. Vlaeva produced some of her strongest, most winning playing for this opening salvo: she has color, temperament, vitality and considerable dexterity.

“Carnivale di Milano,” Op. 21, by Hans von Bulow, was interesting to hear from the conductor who pompously donned black gloves for the Eroica’s Funeral March, called Brahms’s first symphony “Beethoven’s Tenth,” and condescendingly “dissed” Verdi’s Requiem. Ms. Vlaeva played five movements from the Suite: No. 1, Polacca; No. 4,Intermezzo fantastico; No. 7, Intermezzo lirico; No. 9, Intermezzo scherzoso; and No. 10, Galop. As in Hugo Wolf’s “Italian Serenade”, von Bulow found a modicum of levity and cuteness—not his most natural temperamental attire, to be sure, but essentially congenial.

After the intermission, Ms. Vlaeva gave a clarion, thrusting, and rhetorical account of Liszt’s “Dante Sonata”, a Bulow arrangement of Liszt’s Dante Sonnet “Tanto gentile”, and ended the printed part of her program with an intermittently potent, sometimes sprawling and slapdash account of the Liszt “Carnival in Pest” (his Hungarian Rhapsody No. 9).

There were three encores: among them, an ostensible spirited but messy, and rhythmically spastic Liszt “Gnomenreigen”, and Rebikov’s “Music Box.”

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by Harris Goldsmith  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

DCINY: A Concert of Commemoration Honoring the Tenth Anniversary of 9/11

DCINY: A Concert of Commemoration Honoring the
Tenth Anniversary of 9/11Distinguished Concerts Orchestra International
Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Rene Clausen, Guest Conductor
The Really Big Chorus
Jonathan Griffith, Rehearsal Conductor
Karl Jenkins, Guest Conductor
Avery Fisher Hall
September 11, 2011

DCINY: A Concert of Commemoration Honoring the Tenth Anniversary of 9/11

One of the most extraordinary concerts of the last few years took place at Avery Fisher Hall on September 11th, 2011. In performances presented by DCINY, known as Distinguished Concerts International New York, the audience couldn’t have received a better gift: beautifully performed, inspiring music. The crowd in attendance was so large that the lines of people spiraled around the columns in the lobby of Avery Fisher—everyone waiting to be uplifted, and they were.

Samuel Barber’s familiar “Adagio for Strings,” made even more famous by the war film “Platoon” (1986), was a highly appropriate choice for an opener. Rene Clausen prepared a solid, polished account of the work. The strings played with excellent intonation, the ensemble-playing was crystal clear, and the tempo moved along at just the right pace. The audience was clearly touched by the music and the performance. In Clausen’s own “Memorial,” the harrowing events of 9/11 were presented with a rather literal, vivid picture. For me, it hit a bit too close to home, but it ultimately seemed to win over the audience; the movements were “September Morning”, which was serene and sunny as the day began, “The Attack”, complete with crashing chords, dissonance and chaos, and the lovely “Prayers” and “Petitions” movements. It was this second half of the work that helped put people more at ease. Bradley Ellingboe, the Bass-Baritone soloist, sang with great expression and eloquence. The Distinguished Concerts Orchestra International and Distinguished Concerts Singers International performed with deep conviction and connection to all those in attendance, and as a result, the audience—some of them family members of victims—was riveted at every turn.

After intermission, we heard Karl Jenkins’s “For the Fallen: In Memoriam Alfryn Jenkins” in its US premiere. Only four minutes long, it still made an indelible impression. “Armed Man: A Mass for Peace”—on the other hand—is epic in length (63 minutes) and often had the weight, relevance and spiritual profundity of a Mahler symphony.  Even though they didn’t have a lot to sing, the soloists, Erika Grace Powell, Charlotte Daw Paulsen, Brian Cheney and Bradley Ellingboe, were excellent. The Distinguished Concerts Orchestra International and The Really Big Chorus under Maestro Jenkins sounded lush, resonant and deeply committed.

The afternoon will linger in the hearts and souls of those who were lucky enough to be on hand for this important concert on this commemorative day.

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

Nataliya Medvedovskaya Pianist in Review

Nataliya Medvedovskaya Pianist in Review
Bargemusic, Brooklyn, N.Y.
August 4, 2011
 
Nataliya Medvedovskaya

Nataliya Medvedovskaya

 

In a series entitled “Here and Now,” pianist Nataliya Medvedovskaya offered a unique smorgasbord of modern works in the equally unique venue, Bargemusic. The “Here” is New York, the base of 10 composers on her program including herself (the exception being Jeremy Beck from Kentucky), and the “Now” stretched from the present to as far back as 1976, the date of Lowell Liebermann’s Piano Sonata, No. 1. The program notes state that Ms. Medvedovskaya researched several hundred compositions before choosing her program based on “fresh compositional ideas, arresting tonal values, and colorful, interesting harmonies.” While not all of these criteria came to mind equally with each piece, it was clear that the pianist herself felt complete commitment to each one, playing all with thoughtful involvement, projection, and polish. Each work was memorized, which is no small feat in newer piano literature and an unusual testament to the performer’s dedication. Many of the composers were present and expressed deep gratitude for this pianist’s performances, and listeners were grateful for a sampling of largely unfamiliar fare played with excellence.

With a change to the printed program, the opening work was Eugene McBride’s Nocturne, a modern, somewhat Scriabinesque version of the genre of Chopin and Field, with some intense development in its central section. It invited the listener inside, as befits an opener. Eugene Marlowe’s 3 pieces from “Les Sentiments D’Amour” followed: “Rougir Pour la Première Fois” (First Blush) “Melancolie” (Melancholy), and “Le Charmeur” (The Flirt), played with polish and élan. Marlowe’s accessible, breezy style was a good foil for what came next, some compositions by the pianist herself. Ms. Medvedovskaya’s 4 pieces, Scherzo, March, Lullaby, and Burlesque, proved effective miniatures showing significant influence of Shostakovich and Kabalevsky (my listening companion suggested “Shostalevsky”). Nothing disparaging is meant, as these are interesting character pieces, simply that Ms. Medvedovskaya’s years at the legendary Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatory of St. Petersburg, Russia have had their imprint. Next came Debra Kaye’s Visions Fugitives (2 piano pieces), inspired by Ms. Kaye’s stay in Taos, New Mexico. Though the title obviously refers to Prokofiev’s Op. 22, the music, in its evocation of a noble, open landscape, seemed to bear some kinship with Copland. It brought large emotions into small forms.

The first half ended with Lowell Liebermann’s Piano Sonata, Op. 1, composed at age fifteen (1976). An auspicious start to the impressive career that ensued, this work contains more than just seeds of future greatness, as it has moments of haunting beauty (especially the third movement, Lento), along with taut craftsmanship. Ms. Medvedovskaya gave it a cogent performance, with a particularly rousing fourth movement finale.

After intermission, there were again intriguing miniatures, Binnette Lipper’s two Bagatelles (from a set of seven) of which were selected the whimsical “Dalliance” and the extraterrestrial-inspired “Spatial Relations” both given vivid characterizations in the pianist’s interpretations. A Toccata by Jeremy Beck held its head up well next to its twentieth-century predecessors in the genre by Ravel and others, and Ms. Medvedovskaya paid attention to sound and balance throughout it, never stressing the sheer perpetual motion aspect. In contrast followed Rain Worthington’s “Hourglass,” a reflection on the passage of time. Reviewer Jack Sullivan from American Record Guide described Ms. Worthington’s music well, attributing to it a “Satie-like repose.” Ms. Medvedovskaya brought out the timeless, sinuous qualities with sensitivity. “Prelude” by Beata Moon recovered the recital’s momentum with the fluidity of music inspired by dolphins, and almost “New Age” in style, though with some immediately affecting Romantic harmonies. Ms. Moon’s second piece held me less, its climactic glissandi seeming a bit facile in context.

Some good old-fashioned fun brought the program back to earth with Robert S. Cohen’s two movements from “An Ant’s World.” “The Work Never Ends” set the scene as the busy world of ants, while “Invasion of the Anteaters” married the ragtime feel of some Bolcom works with dark humor reminiscent of Gounod’s Marionettes. It was a sped-up quote from Chopin’s Funeral March, though, that made for the most outright laughter. The pianist relished every bit of the fun, as did her audience.

The program closed with the first scene from Ms. Medvedovskaya’s own ballet based on “The Wonderful Adventures of Nils,” a fairy tale by Nobel Prize-winning Swedish author Selma Lagerlof. Soprano Felicity Graham narrated with Ms. Medvedovskaya at the piano, a fine collaboration with only one mishap of the text entering early. This vibrantly dramatic music is absolutely perfect for ballet, and one expects choreographers to be tripping over one another for the rights to it. I trust that the next time I hear the music I will also see it fully realized, as it is currently under commission, we are told in the notes. Meanwhile, one’s appetite was whetted. Fireworks from across the river joined in seeming celebration of its final notes, the end of a remarkable evening.

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

CD in Review: David B. Goldberg

CD in Review: David B. Goldberg
Absolute Music CD1: 13 Tracks

David Goldberg

David B. Goldberg spent the last three years writing and producing “ABSOLUTE MUSIC CD 1: 13 TRACKS”, with the general idea that music today is frequently used in service to other media, while its own abstract nature has become secondary. His CD strives to bridge the gap between high and low art, contribute something new and different to the musical landscape, while at the same time be accessible to all. After a break of seven years, Goldberg began to compose again three years ago. This CD incorporates his latest work.

The 13 tracks are simply labeled with a number, and this way they leave much to the imagination. The tracks vary greatly in both style and mood. Sections that are hypnotically repetitious with subtle change–i.e. minimalistic–fit the best with the electronica sound that permeates the disc (the music was composed using computer programs such as Finale). Yet–thanks to Logic Audio, a program that gives a human playback–there are some very personal elements to the music: a liberty to rhythm (rubato), a good deal of expression such as vibrato, and a wide range of dynamics. Although this disc sounds like it could be a demo, the recording is already on sale on iTunes and the like. According to Goldberg, he is aiming for that electronica edge to the sound in “Absolute Music”, and he is not craving live musicians for performance or for future recordings of this work. He does however intend to find an orchestra of live musicians for future endeavors–especially theater pieces–and he has written for musicians and live performances in the past.

Some of this “Absolute Music” CD sounds other-worldly, perhaps lending itself to the Science Fiction genre. Some of it could serve as video game music or other types of film music because everything about film is obviously pre-recorded, and nothing about it is live. And when listening to “Absolute Music”, you feel you are being taken on a journey without any specific narrative. This is common when listening to Brahms, who avoided descriptive titles and program music; the closest he came to describing what you were hearing was when he composed and titled his “Tragic Overture”. But even here, instead of naming an overture after a Shakespearean drama such as “Romeo and Juliet” (Tchaikovsky) or “Othello” (Dvorak), Brahms chose to label his work in the most general of terms–leaving the listener great freedom of thought.

Track 1 is consistently gripping and lends itself to the aforementioned action-film or video game music, with some ethnic harmonic and melodic flavor added in. The crashing, dissonant chords are indeed startling and effective. The next track provides welcome contrast with its hypnotic and soothing syncopations. Track 3 could use some more chord changes; if the desire here and elsewhere is to keep it simple for the audience, Goldberg could find some middle ground to satisfy the more sophisticated ear.

Track 4 is folksy and rather archaic with a catchy lilt, and the fifth track–in a refreshing minor mode–goes perhaps a little overboard with its use of percussion. Some moments here and elsewhere feel a bit random; melodic ideas are sometimes disconnected to preceding ones, leaving things a bit disjointed. Goldberg, however, is not trying to recreate traditional forms, but rather take you on an abstract journey. And sometimes journeys can be very bumpy roads.

The sixth track could use more advanced counterpoint and imitation, while the following track–Track 7– does indeed incorporate more mature compositional techniques, captivating this listener with its time changes, as well as its atmosphere.

Track 8 has a spooky, entrancing horror film music feel, and the following music on Track 9 also has some droning sounds, but adds an appealing combination of flute solo and chimes. The 10th track contains the strands of strings and piano combined with an unusual, video game-like rumble. Tracks 11 and 12 are also quite unique, sometimes combining new age-like chordal music with Neo-Baroque ornamentation and trills.

Track 13 is mysterious–like the work’s title as a whole–but also contains the most interesting use of counterpoint; it is written with compositional maturity, yet it’s accessible at the same time. It is often a challenge to satisfy both educated audiences and more novice listeners, but with this track and some preceding tracks, Goldberg succeeds.

The CD’s electronica sound, which sometimes wears thin, can still exist on its own without the benefit of live musicians because the music takes you on a voyage away from reality. Then naturally, an ideal contemporary way to represent fantasy is with a futuristic sound.

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

Luisa Sereina Splett pianist in Review

Luisa Sereina Splett pianist in Review
Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
May 26, 2011

For a promising pianist in her twenties making her springtime debut at Weill Hall, Luisa Splett chose a program that was surprisingly autumnal. Opening with one of this reviewer’s personal favorites, Medtner’s quietly haunting “Sonata Reminiscenza” (from Op. 38 “Forgotten Melodies”), Ms. Splett played with a delicate, measured sound and a cerebral restraint that allowed the composition to reveal its own wistfulness, as if she were simply hearing it from afar. Showing minimal physical movement or romantic liberty and taking barely a nanosecond of rhythmic license, she might have elicited an initial description of being cold or mechanical, but by the end she had conveyed the piece with the purity of a still life painting, an artwork in which the beholder needs to take an active interpretive role with no predigesting or pandering. A strict adherence to each beat, which might also have seemed wooden at first, convinced me by the end that it enhanced the piece, evoking loss and the passage of time, as the work’s title and message suggest. The tone throughout was beautiful, thoughtfully prepared and mellow, though I did want more range at times. It was ultimately an unusual and moving performance, ending with a sense of surrender that was extremely poignant. It would be tedious to enumerate the skills, years of study, and international concerts that helped hone this performance, but suffice it to say that Ms. Splett had an early start, having been born to a family of musicians in Switzerland, and that she studied in Chile and Russia, where she is now preparing to defend a doctoral dissertation on the work of pianist/composer Emil Frey.

More retrospective and introspective music followed, namely the oft-ignored Ninth Sonata of Prokofiev, the last one he completed, around six years before he died. After the violent, biting, and sorrowful qualities of Prokofiev’s “War Sonatas,” the Ninth Sonata (Op. 103 in C Major) stands in complete contrast as a work of serenely narrative quality and less overt drama. Relative to the pyrotechnics in the earlier sonatas, it is far subtler in its demands on the pianist, though requiring imagination throughout, especially in its wittier moments. For this reason, one at times one wanted more contrast and projection from Ms. Splett, but her polish, as seen in the Medtner, was again outstanding. She showed such meticulous attention to the score that a keen, trained listener could probably take dictation from her performance and reproduce the exact score. This quality, along with choice of repertoire, may not easily gain the adulation of lazy or impatient audiences, but it should win the attention of purists and sincere musicians.

Schubert’s mature and meditative B-flat Sonata formed the second half of the program, another “last” of genre, composed in the final year of Schubert’s life. Ms. Splett handled it with what was starting to emerge as her signature serene polish, while also allowing the listener to plumb its depths in its darker moments. It was a fitting close to a unique and beautiful recital.

Once again, it is hard not to comment on how unusual it is for a pianist in the early years of a career to unify a program with what amounts to a theme of looking back in reflection. Understandably, many pianists play debuts that announce, “Here I come!” in displays of brilliance and drama designed to counter an attention deficit, but Ms. Splett is simply not one of them. It is not that she played it “safe” with her choices, as pianists who play these works well know, but that she simply put her program conception first, with intelligence, integrity and the perspective of an old soul. It was a memorable evening from a dedicated artist.

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