WA Sinfonietta; Charles Neidich, conductor and soloist

Cary Hall, DiMenna Center for Classical Music, New York, NY

May 13, 2025

The newly formed WA Sinfonietta, under the baton of the world-renowned clarinetist Charles Neidich, gave its second-ever performance on May 13^th at the DiMenna Center for Classical Music, with works by Gideon Klein, Galina Ustvolskaya, and Mieczysław Weinberg. The inaugural concert on March 23^rd of this year had already shown the potential and polish of this ensemble. (Interested readers can click on the following link to read about that concert, and also get background information about the organization and the founding as well: WA Sinfonietta in Review March 23, 2025.) This concert was dedicated to the memory of Joel Krosnick, whom Mr. Neidich called “a musician’s musician.”

As Mr. Neidich stated, the ”common bond” of the three composers featured tonight – Weinberg, Klein, and Ustvolskaya – is that all were born in the year 1919. I almost half-expected Shostakovich’s  Suite from The Unforgettable Year 1919 to make a guest appearance, but that little joke would have been a bit out of place given the serious tone of this concert.

In contrast to the inaugural concert, there were printed program notes here. Mr. Neidich did speak about each work as well, but his is a voice that is good for close conversations, not for a hall. I did hear an audience member say that he needed a mic, and I had thought the same. He has so much to say that is informative and interesting that it is a shame for the audience members to miss even a single word.

Divertimento, by Gideon Klein (1919-1945), opened the concert. Klein, like Victor Ullmann amongst others, was another remarkable talent who was snuffed out in the Holocaust. One can only imagine what great works he would have created if he had lived – as this work, finished at age twenty, is remarkably mature for such a young composer. This four-movement work is scored for two oboes (Myles Meader, Aaron Haettenschwiller), two clarinets ( Andrei Caval, Chad Thomas), two bassoons (Christian Whitacre, Austin Wegener), and two horns (Franco Ortiz, Mychal Nishimura). Divertimento is brimming with an almost cartoon-like frenetic energy, but also has some rather pessimistic moments that almost border on despair. Mr. Neidich led this octet in a highly polished reading. That cartoon-like energy was never rendered as “cartoonish” noises, but it is rather sophisticated music that might have very well been used by Carl Stalling if he had been aware of it. The third movement Adagio, using material based on Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Disappeared, was  especially potent, and was played with an anguished urgency. As much as I enjoyed the frenzy of the other movements, this was the highlight for this listener.

I’m also going to group the two Weinberg works together, even though they were not played consecutively, so we’ll continue with the piece by Galina Ustvolskaya (1919-2006). (The Klein and Ustvolskaya pieces were chamber works and were not played by the Sinfonietta Strings but by invited winds and pianist.) Ustvolskaya is aptly described in the program notes as “one of the most original and uncompromising composers of modern times.” Considered by Shostakovich to be his most talented student, Ustvolskaya was later to reject any connection with him, and called his music “dry and lifeless.” She left only twenty-one compositions that she approved of as her legacy – the remainder were destroyed or disavowed.

Mr. Neidich spoke about the triptych of her Compositions 1, 2, and 3, and the unusual scoring for each – Composition No. 1,  Dona Nobis Pacem, for piccolo, tuba and piano,  Composition No. 2, Dies Irae, for eight double basses, piano and wooden cube, and Composition No. 3, Benedictus, Qui Venit, four flutes, four bassoons and piano. It was the last of the three that we heard this evening, with flutists Arianna Bendit, Ji Young Kim, Yidi Wang, Wen-Hsin Weng, bassoonists Trey Coudret, Austin Wegener, Chrisitan Whitacre, Nadia Ingalls, and pianist León Bersdorf. In this work one can readily see why she was called “The Lady with the Hammer.” It is insistent and acerbic, and while it seems there is just a motive repeated over and over, there is a discernible arc that forms the work. While the music itself is rather simple (mostly quarter notes and clusters in the piano) it is deceptively difficult for all nine players to mesh together well. These nine players did just that, and expertly so in a nuanced performance. It’s not a crowd-pleaser for sure, but one got the distinct impression that the audience found it thought-provoking.

Mieczysław Weinberg (1919-1996) is a composer who, after years of neglect, is starting to regain attention and favor with performers and audiences alike. Mr. Neidich informed the audience that during his time in the Soviet Union he had been completely unaware of Weinberg’s existence, which is extraordinary given Mr. Neidich’s relationships with many lesser-known Soviet composers and musicians – one would have thought that a composer as prolific as Weinberg might have come up in conversation.

The Concerto for Clarinet and String Orchestra, Op. 104, was the first of the two Weinberg works. If one had not known any better, one might have thought that this concerto was written especially for Mr. Neidich. It is packed with virtuoso passagework, soaring melodies that require exquisite tonal control, full use of the entirety of the clarinet’s extensive range, and wide-ranging mood shifts – all things that Mr. Neidich excels at in spades. The opening is unsettled and almost angry, with chattering call-and-reply between the clarinet and the orchestra, with increasing stridency. The second movement is melancholic, but the clarinet takes a lovely melody and pushes it through the clouds into a burst of sunshine. The final movement is a merry dance, but in the merriment there are hints of sorrow that hover over it. Mr. Neidich gave a superb performance of it all, turning over the conducting duties to a very able conductor whose name was unfortunately not mentioned in the program. Mr. Neidich was in top form – the cadenza work was especially notable for not only its virtuosity, but for the crystalline clarity with which Mr. Neidich delineated each note at lightning speed.

The Weinberg Chamber Symphony No. 4, Op. 153, was the final work of the evening. Mr. Neidich stated that this was the composer’s final work (there is an Op. 154, the 22^nd Symphony, which was orchestrated by Kirill Umansky in 2003, so perhaps the Op. 153 was the final work solely by Weinberg). There are four movements played without pause. Four triangle strokes feature in it prominently, each as an “announcement,” but what exactly Weinberg meant by these triangle strokes is open for speculation. Mr. Neidich opined that the final triangle stroke was Weinberg’s declaration that “humanity can be wonderful,” but this listener would equate it to the last measures of Mahler’s 9^th Symphony – a good-bye to life itself. While it is not called a concerto, it is a clarinet concerto in all but name, given the leading role the clarinet plays and the absence of any other wind instruments.

The opening is a chorale that uses a theme Weinberg had used three times previously (Opp. 110. 127, and 128). The clarinet soon joins and has a dialogue with the orchestra, then the mood shifts to one of terror. The first triangle stroke signals the beginning of the final section, the next two call forth a Klezmer tune, and the last signals the end. The WA Sinfonietta was outstanding in projecting the mood with crisp ensemble playing and never overshadowing the clarinet soloist. As for Mr. Neidich, what more can one say? He is so incredibly precise that any clarinet hopefuls would be well-advised to seek him out and learn from him, not only his technique, but his musicianship and his scholarly mien. It was spellbinding and the audience gave him an extended and well-deserved standing ovation. It is also wonderful to see how much joy Mr. Neidich has and how he shared that joy with all the musicians that performed with ebullient handshakes for all. I look forward to the next WA Sinfonietta concert.

Catherine Sailer, Guest Conductor; Larry Bach, Guest Conductor

Lauren Lestage, soprano; Mark Winston, baritone; Zerek Dodson, piano; Joshua Tompkins, piano

Distinguished Concerts Singers International

Wu Tsai Theater-David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

March 26, 2023

A beautiful, sunny, mild late-March afternoon, and my first visit to the recently revamped David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center. What could be better? Just a brief observation about the hall- it is indeed much more people-friendly in the lobby, and the auditorium seating makes one feel much more intimacy with the performers.

This DCINY concert featured music by a single composer, Michael John Trotta. The massed choirs were domestic this time, not international (California, Colorado, Florida, Kansas, Minnesota, New Jersey, and New York). A moderate-sized group was used in the Seven Last Words, then a much larger choir in the Te Deum and Gloria. Both conductors, Catherine Sailer (Seven Last Words) and Larry Bach (Te Deum and Gloria) achieved beautiful results in what must have been a short rehearsal period. An esteemed colleague informs me that Trotta’s music is much more popular with school groups (high school and college) than church choirs. I can understand the difficult logistics of one church choir rehearsal per week, versus a whole semester or even a whole year of preparation available in a school setting.

My principal reservation: the performances were better than the music itself. I shall try to explain. Trotta’s music doesn’t take long to “get” – there is an easy-to-take-in quality to it that reminds one as though there had been a “school” of Andrew Lloyd-Weber (thank goodness there isn’t). There is an over-reliance on 2-1, 7-6, and 9-8 suspensions, and lots of clichés. Even where he turned to an overtly imitative texture as in the Baroque pastiche of the Kyrie inserted into the Seven Last Words, it isn’t truly imitative, after the subject is introduced there isn’t any further fugal device. This also happened at the end of the Gloria (Cum Sancto Spiritu). All works were cyclic as well, a popular device but perhaps overused.

All three works were heard with piano accompaniment, and both pianists, Zerek Dodson and Joshua Tompkins, rendered with admirable stoicism parts that were not very pianistic. I don’t know if these were orchestral reductions, but perhaps the works would have gained from the orchestra, sounding less like Broadway cabaret extracts. (Apparently, DCINY’s labor issues with its pick-up orchestra continue, there was some protesting at the stage door.)

There were two soloists to note in the Seven Last Words, Lauren Lestage, soprano, and Mark Winston, baritone, both of whom projected beautifully with a lovely sound that is only present in the most youthful voices.

The Seven Last Words should more properly be called the Seven Last Phrases, and with Trotta’s penchant for text repetition, they became even longer. There were also numerous melismas that did nothing (for me) to heighten the expressivity of the words they were attached to: one egregious example will suffice- the soprano solo “Bee-ee-ee-hoh-old Your Son”. One of my favorite moments in Trotta’s Seven Last Words was the hushed sense of awe he brought to the It Is Finished moment. Aha! I thought, he really got that! Then he ruined it by loudly repeating it over and over. He might well have demanded more of his listeners and left us with a sense of unanswerable mystery.

When I think of Haydn’s wordless rendition of the same seven last words, for string quartet, well I suppose comparisons of that sort are not only odious but pointless. Catherine Sailer’s choir was staged in a traditional women on the left, men on the right formation; but when Larry Bach took the stage with the much larger group (after a brief pause), he had his men arrayed all across the back of the risers, with the women in front, and there was a noticeable difference to the sound.

The Te Deum and Gloria, each of whose texts have been set countless times, were well sung, but after one gets the “gist” of Trotta’s musical vocabulary, it seems that the music doesn’t “tell” us very much about the words it underlies—even when he changes to an up-tempo more energetic, motoric feel. Once one surrenders to it, however, then one can appreciate the devotion these singers and their conductors brought to it. One last observation, Mr. Trotta, after you say “Amen” (the end of the Gloria) please, please do not place any text after that word (such as another Gloria in excelsis Deo). Amen is final! I understand why he did it- to provide a more fitting sense of arrival/conclusion.

No matter, the beautiful afternoon still awaited outside, the concert (for DCINY) was not overly long, and I’m sure all the groups participating will go home with a deep sense of satisfaction, as they should.

Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director and Principal Conductor 

Penelope Shumate, Soprano; Veronica Pollicino, Mezzo-Soprano;

John McVeigh, Tenor; Christopher Job, Bass-Baritone

Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage, Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

November 27, 2022

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) kicked off the holiday season in style once again Sunday with their annual presentation of Handel’s Messiah at Carnegie Hall, and it was as grand as one always hopes, a moving return to tradition after the massive disruptions of the pandemic.

For those who may have been confused by DCINY’s billing of it as “Mozart’s Messiah,” never fear that you are confused about your music history – this was indeed Handel’s Messiah – simply re-orchestrated by Mozart. It is hard to review this work without unraveling some of its history, so the less interested reader may want to skip ahead. To sum things up, there are several versions of this masterpiece that have been regularly heard since its tremendously successful premiere in Dublin in 1742 (including the various revisions Handel himself made), and DCINY has done it several of these ways, including the much later Eugene Goossens version, which they recorded in 2019.

To add to the fun, I was especially interested this year to see that DCINY had chosen Mozart’s version, reset as Der Messias (KV572) in 1789, because I assumed (incorrectly) that it would be sung in German as Mozart had set it –  which would seem quite a challenge for the many choruses that DCINY assembles from all over this country (and some other countries). After all, one of the distinguishing features of Mozart’s version (first presented in 1789) is the fact that it employs a text translated to German (by Christoph Daniel Ebeling in 1775) from Handel’s original English, the Charles Jennens collection of Bible passages. Aside from the use of German, the most remarkable changes that Mozart made include the addition of winds – pairs of clarinets, horns, flutes, oboes, and bassoons. To my surprise, given the billing as “Mozart’s Messiah,” DCINY presented this Mozart version in English. The result was arguably the best of all possible worlds – fuller in texture and color than Handel’s version,  via the orchestral genius of Mozart (yet more intimate than the full-blown Goossens version) and directly communicative in its original language of English, making it more accessible to much of the audience.

With a knack for what is accessible and assimilable, DCINY also limited the performance to what has become known as the “Christmas portions” of the work (Part I with the  “Hallelujah” chorus from Part II as its finale), even promising a special appearance by Santa Claus (who could be seen by those looking upward towards the balcony during the standing Hallelujah).

On to the performance, the orchestra and choruses were as ever in good hands under the direction of DCINY Principal Conductor and Artistic Director Jonathan Griffith. He led the orchestra in a taut opening Sinfonia and held the reins well from there through to the rockier moments of “The yoke is easy” (which ironically is not easy) and onto the triumphant closing Hallelujah, for which he gestured to the audience to stand (in the traditional homage established by the awestruck King George II of England in 1743).

Meanwhile, there were numerous highlights among Recitatives and Airs by the four outstanding soloists, some of whom this reviewer has enjoyed hearing on prior occasions. All of them were exceptional for clarity of diction, a notable achievement, as even with an English text one cannot always discern exactly what’s being said – one could in this performance. One did not need even to consult the printed program to follow, and that undoubtedly helped many to enjoy the music’s message.

Tenor John McVeigh was the first soloist, impressing this listener most with his emotional intensity in his “Comfort ye my people.” His “Ev’ry valley shall be exalted” was excellent as well, assured and uplifting.

Bass-baritone Christopher Job struck one immediately with his powerful resonance and true pitch in “Thus saith the Lord.” Even in rapid melismatic passages, where singing can often devolve into a kind of unfocused percussive breathing, he took the time to make each pitch truly sing. His “But who may abide the day of his coming?” was equally masterful.

The choral sopranos had some challenges, particularly with some tricky high notes, but their combined tonal quality seemed to work especially well for “And he shall purify.” It was awe-inspiring to see the convergence of all of these separately rehearsed choruses (DCINY estimates their usual combined numbers as between 100 and 500 singers, though I did not count). Kudos go to all of the individual conductors who worked with them for months, as well as to Maestro Griffith who blends them here in New York. The choruses were listed as the American International School Of Vienna High School Choir (Austria), Chesapeake Messiah Chorus (VA), L.A. Daiku Association, Inc. (CA), The Lakeshore Singers (PA),  Richmond Choral Society & The Arcadian Chorale, Shanghai Voices International Choir (China), Sing Napa Valley (CA), Treasure Coast Chamber Singers (FL), Trinity Episcopal Church Choir, St., Mary’s City (MD), Warrenton Chorale (VA), and individual singers from around the globe.

Back to soloists, mezzo-soprano Veronica Pollicino did beautifully with “Behold, a virgin shall conceive” and “O thou that tellest good tidings to Zion.” She especially impressed this listener with her refinement. Mezzos can easily emerge as overly dominant in this piece, but not so here. Her voice was ample to project through the hall, but without being overbearing.

Rare moments of darkness in this uplifting program came in “For behold, darkness shall cover the earth” and “The people that walked in darkness” – but delivered via Mr. Job’s glorious instrument over pulsing strings, one might opt for more darkness! We then enjoyed “For unto us a child is born” with its remarkable imitative choral textures – and the pastoral instrumental “Pifa.”

Following the “Pifa” came the first entrance of soprano soloist Penelope Shumate, a musician who has been favorably reviewed in New York Concert Review several times. She did not disappoint. After her three excellent recitatives, she was simply exultant in the “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion.” She handled some of its seemingly endless phrases without any apparent need to breathe, showing simply supernatural ease. She also excelled in the subsequent sections (“Then shall the eyes of the blind” and “He shall feed his flock”), which she handled solo, despite the program listing these as mezzo and soprano.

The Hallelujah Chorus then worked its magic, and it is safe to say that this music never wears thin. Supplemental choristers joined from the balcony, and it was a powerful and moving finale, followed by much loud applause and cheering – a brilliant start to the holiday season!

Camerata Notturna

David Chan, Music Director

Meigui Zhang, soprano; Siphokazi Molteno, mezzo-soprano; Alexander McKissick, tenor; Matthew Rose, bass-baritone

Downtown Voices: Stephen Sands, director

The Church of St. Paul and St. Andrew, New York, NY

April 30, 2022

Sometimes you need a miracle. Less often do you actually get one. I got my miracle at Saturday night’s performance by Camerata Notturna. The talent pool in New York is so huge that there are numerous mostly “amateur” orchestras in virtually every neighborhood. These so-called amateurs may in fact be young conservatory graduates of professional quality. When they are helmed by one of the leading violinists in town, David Chan (concertmaster of the famed Metropolitan Opera orchestra), the results are, well, miraculous. His conducting star is rising internationally.

The Beethoven anniversary in 2020 (250 years since his birth) was seriously disrupted worldwide, as we know, and it’s not like Beethoven needs a publicist or anything. These touchstones however, have become essential nutrition for listeners everywhere and many conductors like to measure themselves against these works.

The program began with the brief subito con forza by Unsuk Chin, composed as an anniversary tribute. It is definitely not pastiche, though fragmented quotes of typical Beethoven gestures float and slash through it. Rather, as its title indicates, it portrays the sudden changes and contrasts typical of the composer’s music and spirit. The masked orchestra (except for the winds of course) played it very well, the sound mellow in the vaults of the church.

Now to the hoped-for miracle. How would a performance of the radical “Choral” symphony hold up? It is a work full of treacherous traps for any conductor, orchestra, and its punishing demands on the choral sopranos and the four soloists are legendary.

Maestro Chan rendered every part of the score with transparency and utter clarity, even in the potentially muddling acoustics of the church. The tempi were fleet when indicated, ritardandi, also when indicated, were never exaggerated. The numerous metrical modulations were handled expertly and without strain. He allowed me to hear the structure of the work clearly. Mr. Chan is not a flamboyant conductor: I almost wished he would allow his body gestures to ‘expand’ more, to indicate the arching lines. But even as I say that, I must congratulate him on the obvious details of what we as an audience don’t witness: the rehearsal process, so crucial to success.

There is no ‘weak spot’ in Camerata Notturna. With some community orchestras the strings are more developed, with some the winds are superb but the strings less confident. Everything was top-notch here. Perhaps in a different acoustic certain balances may have emerged or been more refined, but I could hear ‘beyond’ that.

Thus the first three movements passed along their emotional arc from coalescing music out of silence, to tempestuous anger, unbridled energy, even humor, in the scherzo, and a heart full of song in the adagio. After all that, what could possibly be added? The human voice of course, the ultimate instrument, the only one that resides inside the human body.

For this, the wonderful Downtown Voices provided the chorus. They had a difficult mission, since the space in the church didn’t permit them to be located behind the orchestra, but on the sides of the sanctuary, women on the left, men on the right. Somehow they overcame that and provided an unexpectedly thrilling sound, one with no strain at all, even as the soprano decrescendo on an impossibly long high G (lieber Vater wohnen). They were obviously trained well by Stephen Sands, their conductor.

None of this would have been possible without the four excellent vocal soloists, drawn from the Metropolitan Opera (soprano Meigui Zhang, bass-baritone Matthew Rose), or its Young Artist Development Program (mezzo-soprano Siphokazi Molteno), and the Washington Nation Opera (tenor Alexander McKissick).

Mr. Rose’s O Freunde, nich diese Töne! was truly terrifying, and appropriate. I thought about the audience in 1824 and how startled they must have been to hear a voice interrupting a symphony. The four soloists worked beautifully together, finding their own quartet balance at all times, the perfect ornament to this stunning finale.

Maestro Chan, bravo! And thank you for the miracle.

Edward Auer and Junghwa Moon Auer: Schumann CD in Review

Schumann: Fantasiestücke, Op. 12 – Junghwa Moon Auer, Piano

Schumann: Fantasie, Op. 17 – Edward Auer, Piano

Producers: Edward Auer and Junghwa Moon Auer

Culture/Demain Recordings (no catalog mumber)

Total timing: 59:27

Edward Auer is a Juilliard graduate who serves on the faculty of the Jacobs School of Music at Indiana University. Junghwa Moon Auer, his wife, a graduate of Yeonsei University in Korea and the New England Conservatory, is coordinator of the Edward Auer Piano Workshop at the Jacobs School, and a member of the artist faculty at Roosevelt University.

This new CD shows the Auers to be pianists of polish and refinement who both understand the idiom of Schumann’s music. The piano sound is good, and both pianists play with marvelous tone throughout.

Junghwa Moon Auer’s performance of Des Abends, the first piece in the Fantasiestücke, has a lovely calm, and subtle use of rubato. In Aufschwung, she brings out the contrasting moods of the different sections, such as the stately part in B-flat major, as opposed to the threatening buildup which leads to the return of the dramatic first  theme.

Warum? is, perhaps, a bit slow, but has some beautiful soft playing, and an intriguing interplay of the voices. Grillen is slightly understated, yet jocular. (The marking does say Mit Humor!)

The night can be scary, and Ms. Auer shows this in In der Nacht, though, with her sensitivity to different colors, the F major middle section is a wonderful  “escape” from the tension and tumult of the rest of the movement. Fabel, another piece of contrasts, is very effectively played. Traumes Wirren, which in some performances throws sparks all around, strikes this listener as light-hearted, but a bit sedate. The last movement, Ende vom Lied, is very fine, with a strong beginning, an energetic middle section in B-flat major, and a peaceful end.

After the loud, swirling beginning of the first movement of the Fantasie, Edward Auer plays a bit slower than one might expect, but everything “works.” The F major theme is eloquent, and the syncopated section which follows sounds appropriately improvisatory. There is a natural sounding emotional underpinning to everything he does in this movement. The last section, in C major, is slow, expressive, and deep.

The second movement is played at a strong, moderate tempo. Parts of the middle do seem a bit slow. The coda is certainly well-played, though some pianists take a more daring tempo.

Mr. Auer’s playing of the last movement is a spacious and calm unfolding of the material. In addition to the dynamic contrasts, which are effectively brought out, there is a sensitivity to coloristic possibilities as the work modulates. There is a very fine buildup in the last section, and then Mr. Auer goes “back down the other side of the mountain” to a beautiful, soft conclusion.

Donald Isler for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Star Concert Productions presents Carine Gutlerner

Carine Gutlerner, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

October 27, 2016

A sizeable crowd picked its way through the chilly autumn drizzle, spirits undampened, to hear the recital by Belgian/French pianist Carine Gutlerner. Ms. Gutlerner is multi-talented not only as a pianist, but also as choral conductor, composer, and visual artist (her published book of drawings was on view in the lounge adjacent to the recital hall).

As a pianist, her recital presented many paradoxes. It is always refreshing to hear someone with a distinct, vivid, even controversial point of view, as opposed to someone comfortable in a “musical straitjacket.” However, some of Ms. Gutlerner’s virtues quickly became mannered, even working against her.

The concert opened with Ms. Gutlerner’s own composition: the American premiere of excerpts from her film music for Ann Frank’s Diary (an animated presentation aimed at children primarily). It is always risky to turn tragic events into music, as one risks merely trivializing them. That was not the case here, although the unrelieved gloom of the sections chosen shows more about our post-Holocaust response than it does about the often-optimistic teen spirit of the heroine.

After this, the program turned quite standard, with three large-scale works. The first of these was Brahms’ Third Piano Sonata in F minor, Op. 5. When Brahms arrived on the Schumanns’ doorstep in 1853, he was a slender, blond twenty-year-old with a satchel full of compositions, and both Schumanns promptly fell in love with him and his music. His celebrated belly and beard came much later. It seemed that Ms. Gutlerner was relating much more to the wild, untamed passionate outpouring of youth that this work can represent. If you like your Brahms autumnal or more sober, this was not the version for you. Fiery and impetuous would be the two adjectives to reach for in characterizing her interpretation. The beautiful Andante with its poetic preface from Sternau was played much too quickly—it didn’t sound like the two hearts were united in love under the moonlight, rather that they were hurrying to catch the last tram down the mountain. The Scherzo lacked the lilting references to the Viennese waltz that underlie its demonic energy (though the Trio section was lovely), and overall it was messy. The unusual fourth movement, titled Rückblick (A Look Back), was too angry for my taste, though a case could be made for one of the former lovers from the second movement having precisely that emotion. The Finale was anything but moderato.

If Ms. Gutlerner could slightly tame her inner “wild animal” perhaps her brain would follow suit, for every work was marred by major memory issues, from which she recovered however. After all, it’s not so much what happens as how one continues. She also needs to find some tie-backs for her ample hair, which had to be continually brushed back with one of her hands. It even got in her mouth. One final complaint: the hands-in-the-air drama at the end of nearly every piece gets old fast—one per recital, please? (If that.)

After intermission, the first work was Chopin’s Second Ballade, Op. 38 in F major (though it ends in A minor). This was a sloppy performance, though the lyrical opening had great potential. Ms. Gutlerner had every reason to be rattled, because yes, a STUPID cellphone went off several times, including during the final pregnant pause before the last two chords. People who are reading this: DISCONNECT while at live performances, and tell your friends to as well. No matter how many announcements are made, it always seems to happen.

Then came the immense challenge of Mussorgsky’s Pictures At An Exhibition. I thought that Ms. Gutlerner’s outsized temperament would be an asset in this sprawling and fiercely difficult work, and at times that was the case, but too often her technique was just not up to the demands of the music. Two sections that were absolutely perfect, however, were: the Promenade between Bydlo and the Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks, and then the Con Mortuis in Lingua Mortua (not “Latina,” as the program stated). Otherwise, the left hand was overbearing, even bangy, an issue that threatened the earlier works on the program as well. Loud does not equal Russian authenticity. The Great Gate of Kiev was unduly hurried, lacking the majesty it needs, and her troubles seemed to multiply until she just ended the work with a few perfunctory chords.

She played another mournful section of Anne Frank as an encore.

Ms. Gutlerner could become quite a formidable interpreter if she learns to balance her natural fire with more control, even quietude—it will make the fire stand out that much more.