Uncategorized | New York Concert Review, Inc.

Manhattan Concert Productions presents Masterworks Festival Chorus and New York City Chamber Orchestra

Masterworks Festival Chorus

San Jose State University Choraliers

The Phoenix Symphony Chorus

New York City Chamber Orchestra

Jeffrey Benson and Thomas Bookhout, conductors

Layna Chianakis, mezzo-soprano; Jessica Sandidge, soprano; Michael Scarcelle, bass; Marguerite Krull, soprano; Amy Maude Helfer, mezzo-soprano; Nathan Munson, tenor; Paul An, bass

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

April 27, 2015

Manhattan Concert Productions gives community choruses great opportunities to perform in leading concert halls across America, including Carnegie Hall. Their umbrella reaches from children’s choirs to high-school, collegiate, and community and symphony choruses. These groups then travel to New York and work with the permanent instrumental ensemble known as the New York City Chamber Orchestra. The evening of April 27, 2015, on the main stage of Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, a wonderful range of talent and music was on display.

The program began with the San Jose State University Choraliers, who indeed proved that they have “choral ears,” in fine renditions of Finzi and Elder. Finzi’s music deserves to be much more widely known. Their diction in his My Spirit Sang All Day was exemplary, as was the feeling of tenderness, which followed into Elder’s Willow-Wood, conducted by their own Jeffrey Benson. They were then joined by the extraordinary mezzo-soprano Layna Chianakis in two spirituals. If my pitch-sense isn’t failing me, I could swear she did an effortless high D near the end of This Little Light of Mine, a light which shone brightly indeed.

The main business of the first half was Fauré’s Requiem, Op. 48. This work is comforting, austerely sensuous, and serene in its appeal, unlike the melodramatic/operatic settings of Verdi or Berlioz that emphasize damnation. It was composed in 1888 in memory of Fauré’s recently deceased father. The Requiem, which was modified by Fauré three complete times over many years, has the unusual scoring of omitting the “first violin” sound, thus giving it a darker coloration and symbolizing absence perfectly. Then when the angelic solo violin of concertmaster Robert Zubrycki entered in the Sanctus, the effect was stunning. Again, the conductor was Mr. Benson, from whose group (a massed choir of people from California, Michigan, and New York) I could have used a greater dynamic range, especially in the pianissimi. Their sound was exciting in the louder dynamics, but I missed the great emotional power of a large number of people all singing extremely softy, held-in. I was also sorry to hear some choral diphthongs, especially on the open “e” vowels, which made the church Latin sound so American. The range of instrumental dynamics was not wide enough, from the very first note, a fortissimo D that is supposed to decline to a pianissimo choral entry. This resulted in a “smooth” performance, but one that didn’t maximize contrast. The sound of the electronic organ, the only type Carnegie and other New York halls have at their disposal (with the exception of Alice Tully Hall), was unfortunate and crude, though well-played by the uncredited organist. This is a shame that New York really needs to address if such works are to be presented. The two soloists handled their work admirably, with the soprano Jessica Sandidge wisely not scaling her lovely voice into anything “boy”-sounding in the Pie Jesu, even though the premiere was by a boy soprano. Michael Scarcelle sang the Offertoire and Libera me, Domine with power and intimacy by turns.

After intermission, the Phoenix Symphony Chorus, conducted by Thomas Bookhout, sang a beautiful work by Stephen Paulus, The Pilgrims’ Hymn, excerpted from his opera The Three Hermits, and a less-original but still heartfelt Psalm of Ascension by Dan Forrest. This group, of considerably more mature singers than had been heard in the first half, delivered all the contrasts of text and tone that one could wish for.

They were then joined by choirs from Arizona, New Jersey, and Wisconsin (and apparently some free-lance individuals from New Jersey) for a rousing performance of Haydn’s well-known “Lord Nelson” Mass, originally titled Missa in Angustiis (Mass for Troubled Times). The tempi were moderate, allowing the grandeur of the music to breathe, while articulation, dynamics, and transparency all reflected some of the advances in historically-informed playing that one expects in this repertoire (And again that electronic pseudo-organ). All four soloists were excellent, but I must single (or double) out the soprano Marguerite Krull and the tenor Nathan Munson for the clarity of their tone, its brilliance, and forward placement. Bass Paul An, an accomplished Juilliard graduate, sang well but should nevertheless be advised not to try to sound too “old” or vocally dark before his time, even though he is a bass, because this will eventually wear out the voice. This chorus achieved that magical hush in the final Dona nobis pacem (Grant us peace), a fitting end to a well-done evening of choral music.

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

Eunmi Ko, Piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

June 3, 2014

Pianist Eunmi Ko gave an exceedingly interesting recital at Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall on the evening of June 3, 2014. Her programming was original, as were her interpretations. In general, her strengths are an abundance of technique, as well as a beautiful array of pianistic colors, particularly in the soft dynamic levels.

She began with Mécanisme, the first movement of the two-movement work Dichotomie (2000), by conductor/composer Esa-Pekka Salonen (b. 1958), which she plunged into without even waiting for the welcoming applause to die down. The piece has a certain steely resolve that suits its title, as well as an over-reliance on glissandi; but it creates sonorities that are not often heard from the piano, particularly in Ko’s headlong, momentum-filled rendition. In the composer’s own words: “Mécanisme, is indeed like a machine, but not a perfect one: more like one of the Tinguely sculptures (or mobiles, they really defy all attempts to categorize them), which are very active, extroverted and expressive, but produce nothing concrete. I imagined a machine that could feel some sort of joie de vivre, and in that process, i.e. becoming human, would lose its cold precision.”

Then came the poignant cycle O matince, Op. 28 (About Mother), by Czech composer Josef Suk (1874-1935). Composed in 1907, its five sections are reflective of the various functions of a mother in the course of her life. Obsessive pedal points are found in each movement, symbolizing different things: the enthusiasm of the young mother, springtime, singing to comfort a sick child, her own heartbeat, and finally a remembrance, presumably after the death of the mother. The music was beautifully presented by Ms. Ko, with gleaming color and balances, making it sound more like forward-looking Janáček than a fond look backward to the nineteenth century.

After intermission came a New York premiere with the neo-Baroque high jinks of John Liberatore’s She Rose, and let me in: Variations and Fugue on a Scottish Folk Song, after F. J. Haydn (2013), which takes as its pretext the words to a folksong about seduction, intercourse, unintended pregnancy, and regret, all wrapped up in a happy ending. As Mr. Liberatore’s own aesthetic statement says: “He endeavors to bring together seemingly contradictory aesthetic tendencies: nuance with overtness, strangeness with purpose, levity with depth and sincerity, and outward simplicity with subtle complexity.” All of which was achieved in this witty, whimsical, sometimes abrupt work, whose accessibility to the listener masks its difficulty for the pianist. Ms. Ko had no trouble clarifying the textures, especially in the Fugue. In the concluding Epilogue, played at the softest dynamic levels achievable on the piano, where individual notes from the theme and its variations are heard individually with extreme registral transposition. It was the loveliest playing of the evening, and it was truly magical. The composer, present in the sparse but enthusiastic audience, was duly honored, and must have been pleased.

To conclude, Ms. Ko played an often-heard masterpiece from the core nineteenth-century repertoire: Schumann’s Fantasie, Op. 17. To this work she brought a fierce momentum, organizing it toward the “long line” rather than allowing herself to get caught up in myriad details. This approach resulted in a different interpretation for the piece than one often hears, and I quickly became accustomed to it, usually with pleasure. Her tone was liquid, and there was plenty of poetry, but not bathos or sentimentality. The concluding chords of the first movement seemed to emanate from another world, so quiet were they. In the famously terrifying (to pianists) “skips” of the second movement, she plunged with abandon, the tempo pressing forward boldly. One could forgive the occasional missed note in light of the sheer drive. She brought out a puckish or impish side that is rarely heard in this movement. For me, the only blemish of the recital was the third section of this work, played too quickly and which ended far too loudly, as though Ms. Ko was afraid to let the piece become introverted again, as it should. This work has always been a programming challenge for pianists: where to put it, precisely because of this soft ending. Have courage, pianists!

She offered an encore: Chopin’s Etude Op. 10, No.4, played at a cartoon-chase tempo, way too fast for any poetic musical sense to emerge, but astonishing as a feat of sheer digital prowess. It was a well-earned romp after a well-played demanding program.