Oberlin Orchestra in Review

Oberlin Orchestra
Raphael Jimenez, conductor
Jeremy Denk, piano
Carnegie Hall
January 19, 2013
Oberlin College

Oberlin Orchestra; Photo Credit: Chris Lee

The Oberlin Orchestra sounded polished and impressive in their Carnegie Hall Concert on January 19th. The music was challenging, including Ravel’s “La Valse” and Stravinsky’s “Firebird” (1919), and the young players rose to the occasion, sounding highly professional–especially in the execution of complex rhythms. The percussion nailed those complexities with ease and solidity of sound, the brass and winds were expressive and noble–even during tricky sections, and the strings were clear and energetic at all times. In Ravel’s “La Valse”, for example, the violins employed every bow stroke, vibrato and portamento with precision and unity.

One could quibble with the lack of sheer tonal strength in the strings, but this may have been due to the brass and percussion overpowering them at times. Or it may have been due to the inferior quality of some of the string instruments (after all, not every student can afford something top-notch yet). Here is something a little esoteric: the influence of the major orchestra in town could enter the attitudes of the major conservatory in town. In other words, it may be that the sound of the pristine, elegant Cleveland Orchestra is in the air.The Oberlin Orchestra in many ways sounded like a young Cleveland Orchestra: polished and elegant, but not necessarily powerfully robust–and that is not a negative, but simply a tradmark characteristic. Conductor Raphael Jimenez did a wonderful job of balancing the sections of the Ravel and Stravinsky, and bringing out the various colors in Christopher Rouse’s “Iscariot”, a dissonant work reminiscent of Ives, from 1989. All these works require an excellent navigator for the heavy orchestration, and Jimenez made these textures transparent. He also deserves credit for preparing the ensemble so well. Most of these young musicians have never played in Carnegie Hall, and any nerves were tempered by Jimenez’s controlled, collected podium style. That said, Jimenez might have allowed for more abandonment and chaos in certain sections of the Ravel. This is a not an effervescent, ebullient Johann Strauss Jr. Waltz, but rather a parody of it–music that gets more and more out of control.

Rouse, an outstanding composer who is Composer-in-Residence of the New York Philharmonic and an Oberlin alumnus (graduating class of 1971), made a welcome onstage appearance.  A younger alumnus, the accomplished Jeremy Denk (a 1990 graduate), performed Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C Major, K. 467. Denk gave an impressively speedy and facile performance, but one that still found time to be sensitive to all the music’s phrasing and harmonic shifts. The ensemble between orchestra and soloist was superbly homogenius. The quality of the strings and winds was very high, imbued with clarity of rhythm and excellent intonation.

This evening at Carnegie Hall was a wonderful celebration of Oberlin’s depth of talent and the school’s and students’ accomplishments. Oberlin is no doubt a great place to be if you want to make a deep impact as a musician.

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

Park Avenue Chamber Symphony in Review

Park Avenue Chamber Symphony
David Bernard, Conductor
Terry Eder, Piano
All Saints Church, New York
October 28, 2012

David Bernard conducting the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony

Where do musically inclined Manhattanites go to exorcise their day-job demons when they would prefer following a conductor to watching one through binoculars? The City offers a handful of choices compared with the array of amateur and semi-professional groups one can find in, say, London, where a hidden world class talent might be launched on the collective buoyancy of an auspicious gathering. Here, our community social life facilitates contact and much-needed creative entertainment for the worn out; a conductor’s role is one part music educator, one part maître d’, one part recruiter/fundraiser, and one part Toscanini-tempered-with-David-Letterman. Concerts, presented after about six weeks of growing hubbub, can be the highlight of a participant’s week or month, as many instrumentalists do what they can at home and save their all for the show. The decision to enroll in one ensemble or another can hinge on the location or ambience of rehearsal space as much as the season’s repertoire or the conductor’s acceptance of an unburnished riff.

The first-rate Park Avenue Chamber Symphony holds its rightful place at the forefront of New York’s handful. Chamber seems a misnomer when one surveys seventy musicians, counting a hefty corps of low brass, packed into the apse of All Saints Church, the orchestra’s home for the past four or so of its thirteen years. On the eve of devastating Hurricane Sandy, with nary a hint of low pressure rattling its large wooden doors, the church saw a loyal and jubilant tide of admirers within as conductor David Bernard directed a program of German standards. The Sunday concert was the second of a weekend pair titled “Wit and Radiance.”

Maestro Bernard cuts a benevolent figure on the podium, more Cheshire cat than tyrant, but his musical instincts (and memory) are superb and his subjects are with him at every lift of a finger. Schubert’s mysterious but ubiquitous “Unfinished” Symphony was surprisingly fresh and limpid, with gracefully shaped song floating atop a securely anchored cushion of bass. Indeed, texture can be a tricky issue when balancing such an abundance of reedy and dark-hued instruments, as was evident in Strauss’s enormous Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche. An ambitious undertaking for any orchestra, this virtuosic, cackling tone poem calls for quick reflexes to capture the dash of vinegar in Strauss’s mock-Tristan chords, the sudden reliance on sumptuous strings, or the treacherously ironic French horn and E-flat clarinet solos. All effects were met with resources of confidence and precision.

The conundrum arrived after intermission in the form of Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto, with accomplished artist Terry Eder unwittingly cast as miracle worker for the afternoon. This frustration she shouldered with an angelic smile and a healthy dose of rubato. Attempts to coax glistening scales and shimmering trills from a piano less than imperial were moderately successful and unforced. The solidity of orchestral bass was a salvation here: apart from some ragged close calls in the first movement development, Maestro Bernard expertly filled in missing low fundamental frequencies and pulse, providing a generous gift to the soloist’s left hand. A muted and evocative slow movement erupted into a romping, slightly girlish rondo whose Viennese syncopations took on a rather dance-hall quality.  Ms. Eder was clearly playing with abandon,  and the final runs of the concerto shone with taut facility in the pianist’s seamless inflections.

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

“This Shining Night”: The Music of Whitacre and Lauridsen in Review

Presented by DCINY
Distinguished Concerts Singers International
Eric Whitacre, conductor
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
April 1, 2012
 
This Shining Night: The Music of Lauridsen and Whitacre. Photo Credit: DCINY Production/Richard Termine

This Shining Night: The Music of Lauridsen and Whitacre. Photo Credit: DCINY Production/Richard Termine

 

 

Eric Whitacre conducted amazingly well-prepared choruses in presentations of his music, which ranged from 1992 to the present, and he also conducted two lovely renditions of works by Morten Lauridsen. The singers, mostly students from high school and university choruses throughout the United States, all sang from memory with excellent pitch, diction, balance, phrasing and rhythm, plus complete devotion to each work. The music contrasted from the sublime (most of the works had to do with the night, sleep or dreams) to the ridiculous (Ogden Nash’s texts in “Animal Crackers”), and the full-house at Carnegie Hall seemed captivated by every selection.

The evening began with “Lux Aurumque”, a serene and poignant work with fascinating harmonies. But even more touching and unsettling was the setting to Octavio Paz’s text to “A Boy and a Girl”. By contrast, “Animal Crackers”– in two short volumes–riotously showcased boys singing high falsetto in “The Cow”, and cleverly incorporated familiar strands such as the opening chords of Tchaikovsky’s B-flat Piano Concerto and “Oh Tenenbaum” in the song “The Kangaroo”. Just as catchy was “The Canary”, humorously set to repetitious music on the words “..never varies”. The excellent pianist for the evening was Tali Tadmor. Ogden Nash’s texts are indeed hysterical, but Whitacre’s music added even more to the hilarity. The audience had a blast.

“Five Hebrew Love Songs”, with a fine string quartet at hand, provided a welcome variety within its five settings. It was idiomatic and ethnically authentic, complete with precise tambourine in its dance movement. There was some ragged ensemble (in the male voices) only once in a tricky section. The work entitled “the city and the sea” contained more dense harmonies and even more fascinating counterpoint; the “Little Man in a Hurry” movement was the highlight, with its catchy melisma and mixed meters.“Cloudburst” was as evocative and mystical as “the city and the sea” was invigorating and exuberant. It goes ‘Old World’, with chants in 5ths, but then intersperses modern techniques such as aleatoric writing and minor-second clusters. The sustained voices over the counterpoint sounded sublime. The celestial swells were reminiscent of Ravel’s “Daphnis et Chloe”, and the rattling percussion, plus clapping and snapping sounds provided with unity and confidence by the chorus added to the sensations and imagination.

“Go, Lovely Rose”, Whitacre’s first composition from 1992, contained impressive high solos for tenor and soprano, and they were performed admirably. Harmonically, the piece is more daring than you would think from such an early composition (he was only 21 at the time). “Sleep”, was evocative, atmospheric and beautifully performed by the large chorus; the cloudy harmonies and mysterious atmosphere are reminiscent of “Sirenes” from Debussy’s “Nocturnes” or music from “Neptune” in Holst’s “The Planets”–both for women’s voices and usually sung off stage. Whitacre’s music, even though seemingly inspired by strokes of genius in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, still has much to offer–especially to young people. The concluding, extremely gradual ‘fade-out’ was astounding for its breath control and dynamic color; it disappeared into the night.

Morten Lauridsen’s “Sure on This Shining Night” and “Dirait-on”, based on the text by Ranier Maria Rilke from “Les Roses”, made fitting partners to Whitacre’s “Sleep” music, but instead of being ethereal-sounding like the Whitacre work, Lauridsen’s night music–while sharing similar ideologies–was less mysterious and chromatic and sounded more harmonically open, earthy and lush (an appropriate musical style for settings to poetry like “Les Roses”). Mr. Lauridsen performed at the piano while Mr. Whitacre conducted. Lauridsen’s consistently tender music provided an endearing close to this very impressive program.

The excellent choruses that participated in this successful Carnegie Hall concert were the Desoto Central High School Chorale (MS), Legacy Christian Academy Concert Choir (TX),  Orrville High School Choir (OH), West Monroe High School Choir (LA), Winter Springs High School Chorus (FL), Classical Ensemble and Bel Canto Choirs (CA), Delta State University Chorale (MS), The Lowell Choir (CA), molto cantabile (Switzerland), Olive Branch High School Choir (MS), Ridgeland High School Choir (MS), River Dell High School Select Choir (NJ), and the Rose Choir (NJ). They could not have been better prepared by their directors.

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

New York Philharmonic

New York Philharmonic
Alan Gilbert, conductor
Christine Brewer, soprano; Jane Henschel, mezzo-soprano; Anthony Dean Griffey, tenor; Eric Owens, bass-baritone; New York Choral Artists: Joseph Flummerfelt, director
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
June 26, 2010

 

Alan Gilbert

Alan Gilbert

Alan Gilbert’s first season as the New York Philharmonic’s Music Director ended as adventurously as it had begun, with a premiere commissioned for the occasion. Both were written by Magnus Lindberg, the Orchestra’s newly-installed Composer-in-Residence; the first was titled EXPO!, the second Al largo. The composer provides the best description of his own music: “Only the extreme is interesting. Striving for a balanced totality is now an impossibility….” In Al largo—(meaning “offshore”)—a big orchestra with a huge percussion section produces a great, joyful noise with many brass fanfares and a multitude of instrumental colors, but without any discernible form or structure.

The main work on the program was well suited to demonstrate Gilbert’s ambitious, wide-ranging plans for his orchestra, and to celebrate the successful close of his first season: Beethoven’s Missa solemnis, Op. 123, one of the greatest, most formidable works in the literature.

The Missa has a singular history. Begun in 1819, it was intended, in Beethoven’s words, “to contribute to the glorification of the day” when his friend and patron, Archduke Rudolph of Austria, was invested as Archbishop of Olmütz. However, the Missa was far from ready to be performed at the ceremony a year later; indeed, Beethoven wrestled with it longer than with any other composition. Not until 1823 did he consider it finished, having in the meantime written his last three piano sonatas, and worked on the “Diabelli” Variations and the Ninth Symphony.

This unusually long period of gestation and contemplation could not but affect the nature of the work. Alan Gilbert thinks that what makes it so difficult to understand and perform is, at least in part, the dichotomy between its sacred and secular elements. But one might also say that it is the music itself that baffles and overwhelms both listeners and performers. It shows Beethoven at his emotionally most profound, his spiritually most sublime, and his intellectually and technically most intractable. Everything is driven to excess: the extreme changes of mood and expression; the constant shifts of meter, tempo, and dynamics; the abrupt swings from lyricism to drama, and from humble pleading to heaven-storming ecstasy. If Beethoven had any weaknesses, they lay in his vocal writing and his counterpoint, and the Missa naturally abounds in both. As in the Ninth Symphony, chorus and soloists are driven into the stratosphere for unsustainably long stretches; the fugues – and there are many – are so complex that they seem to get tangled up like coils of barbed wire. At times, even Gilbert’s usually unfailing sense of balance and textural clarity was defeated by the dense, overloaded score.  No wonder the work is heard so rarely.

The Philharmonic’s performance must have been one of the best in recent memory. Orchestra and chorus, meticulously prepared, were precise, secure, and emotionally involved; among the vocal soloists, the soprano was outstanding; the rest were good, though not well matched: the bass and alto were too subdued, the tenor was too heroic. Concertmaster Glenn Dicterow played his big solo in the Benedictus brilliantly, but his tone was too unremittingly intense.

The concert’s real hero was Alan Gilbert. His beat, as always, was clear and decisive; his transitions and tempo changes were admirably smooth and organic; his mastery of this immensely complex score, from the smallest detail to its monumental over-all structure, was prodigious; he led his enormous forces with the natural authority born of a thorough knowledge and deeply felt love of the music.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Live from the MET: Simone Boccanegra

Live from the MET : “Simone Boccanegra”
James Levine, conductor
Placido Domingo, baritone, as Simone Boccanegra 
Adrianne Pieczonka, soprano, as Amelia
Marcello Giordani, tenor, as Gabriele Adorno  
James Morris, bass-baritone, as Jacopo Fiesco
Metropolitan Opera, New York, NY
PBS Telecast
June 20, 2010

Placido Domingo - Photo Credit Brent Ness -

All New York’s music lovers, especially those with difficulties getting around, owe a debt of gratitude to Channel 13 for its “Live from Lincoln Center” series: these telecasts are the closest they can get to the concerts and operas they love. The latest “Live from the MET” telecast, taped in February and broadcast on June 20th, presented the new production of Verdi’s “Simone Boccanegra” with Placido Domingo making his debut as a baritone in the title role. Audience expectations ran high, though Domingo has often mentioned that his vocal roots are in the middle register and blossomed into the upper one later. Indeed his voice has always had a remarkably warm, baritonal quality, and, since voices tend to darken with age, he is perhaps merely encouraging a natural vocal development. Nevertheless, after a lifetime as one of the world’s most beloved tenors, taking such a drastic step requires extraordinary courage, and its stunning success makes it an extraordinary achievement.   

Domingo’s decision to undertake his first foray into new territory in this vocally and emotionally challenging, complex role was daring but understandable. As Boccanegra, he has moved from portraying an impulsive, young, romantic tenor (like Gabriele Adorno in “Boccanegra”) to a historical character of his own age and maturity. The real Boccanegra was a famous pirate who was twice elected Doge of Genoa; in the opera, he grows from a frustrated lover determined to prove himself a worthy suitor, to an enlightened statesman determined to bring peace and justice to his people.  

Adrianne Pieczonka, Placido Domingo and Marcello Giordani - Photo Credit Brent Ness

Verdi wrote “Boccanegra” in 1857; it was a failure: audiences found Piave’s libretto confusing, and the long recitatives boring. In 1881, Verdi revised it, like many of his operas; with a lot of new music and a new text by Boito, it was a resounding success, though the libretto still had weaknesses: the characters’ actions and reactions remained baffling and unbelievable, and events predating the drama were sketched so cursorily that audiences cannot possibly grasp them. 

  

The opera takes place in 14th-century Genoa against a background of convoluted political and personal conflicts that generate misunderstandings, belated revelations and eventual tragedy. But Verdi was less interested in affairs of state than affairs of the heart, and dramatized the characters’ relationships with wonderful duets – not only between soprano and tenor in the obligatory love-duets, but also between basses and baritones in confrontations and reconciliations.  

 This is a dark opera, dramatically, visually and musically. After an orchestral prelude, played primarily by the lowest strings and winds, the curtain rises on two basses hatching a plot at night. Fiesco, the leading bass, enters, lamenting his daughter’s death. Then Boccanegra, her lover and the father of their illegitimate child, appears; Fiesco hates him, and, in a passionate duet, rebuffs his plea to resolve their enmity. Fast forward 25 years. Boccanegra discovers his long-lost daughter, Amelia; they rejoice, but he inexplicably insists on keeping their relationship secret; soon after, he learns that she loves Adorno, his political enemy. The central scene is set in the Council Chamber. The Doge is trying to persuade the fractious nobles and plebeians to make peace with each other and with Venice; when a riot breaks out in the street, he quells it by sheer force of personality. Meanwhile, Paolo, a vengeful courtier, pours poison into Boccanegra’s water-jug, initiating what must be one of the longest operatic death-scenes: after staggering around (and frequently falling) while singing incredibly difficult music, Boccanegra finally makes peace with Fiesco in another great duet.  

The production, conducted by James Levine, is most impressive—visually and musically: the scenery is simple and evocative, the orchestra is splendid as usual, though sometimes too subdued when accompanying the singers; the cast is strong. Verdi did not make things easy for the singers: several start off with a big, demanding aria, requiring some warming up. Adrianne Pieczonka is a beautiful but vocally uneven Amelia; James Morris, in excellent voice, is a majestic Fiesco, Stefan Gaertner a baleful Paolo. Marcello Giordani’s Adorno is heroic in more ways than one: it must take courage to share the stage with the singer who owned your role, yet he seemed inspired rather than intimidated. But it was Domingo who, in the best sense, dominated the stage. He inhabited his part completely, radiating a natural authority that seemed to make everyone more confident and secure. Though his top notes are understandably superior to his low ones, his voice is as focused, expressive and intense as ever. Rarely has there been a more triumphant debut.  

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Long Island Philharmonic

David Stewart Wiley, conductor
Joseph Kalichstein, piano
Tilles Center for the Performing Arts, New York
June 19, 2010
Long Island Philharmonic

Long Island Philharmonic

The Long Island Philharmonic has had four Music Directors since its founding in 1979, but none of them has been as effective at communicating intimate, nuanced music with the audience as David Stewart Wiley. Its Music Director for almost ten years, Mr. Wiley enjoys speaking to the audience before many of the pieces the orchestra performs, and those in attendance clearly enjoy it, benefitting from musical examples that accompany that talk because they get a preview—much like a movie trailer—and know what details to listen for. And the Long Island audience needs this added familiarity more than in a major city, where a Mozart symphony isn’t exactly a foreign affair.

Before the performance of Mozart’s Symphony No. 39, Wiley interestingly noted that the first movement may be the first time the waltz (opposed to the Minuet) was incorporated into a symphony. He also rightly mentions the countryside, folk aspect to the symphony as a whole. And that inspires an analogy: Mozart brings the countryside to the symphony, and the Long Island Philharmonic brings the symphony to the countryside, enriching the musical experiences of thousands of Long Islanders, who do not have to leave the suburbs in order to hear great music—or great music-making. Perhaps—quite fittingly—the suburbs of Long Island are the perfect place to hear intimate music.

The performance of the 39th Symphony was indeed given a polished, sparkling and elegant account. The sound of the orchestra is in terrific shape, with special mention going to the solo clarinet and the French Horns for handling difficult moments with effortlessness and beauty. In Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto, excellent pianist Joseph Kalichstein, who often modestly collaborated like he was one of many solo instruments within the orchestra rather than the main soloist, nonetheless gave the kind of briskly-paced performances—in the outer movements—that didn’t always mesh with the ensemble behind him. Still, it was impressively played on both technical and musical fronts, with the slow movement the undeniable highlight, as its darkly solemn and sublime moments were performed with tremendous conviction.

In Bartok’s Romanian Dances, which opened the program, the clarinet solos were playfully and endearingly shaped. The Piccolo solo was played with great sensitivity, creating the character of a wandering, lost soul. Wiley set the mood before each dance and achieved deeply committed performances from the players. The first violin section played with unity of movement—often using their bows fully, from the lower part of the bow (the ‘frog’) to the very tip, which can be a rarity for orchestras.

The intimate musical repertory the Long Island Philharmonic explores is sorely needed, as many orchestras concentrate on the more ostentatiously grand symphonic music and stay away from the more delicate gems. Yet Long Island audiences appreciate the nuances of this delightful music because David Stewart Wiley allows his audiences to savor it all—during the performance, but also before it.

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY)

DCINY Spirit Journey: The Journey from Africa to America
The Lincoln Gospel Choir; Swingsations Jazz Choir
Darcy Reese, Conductor
Robert Robinson and the Twin Cities Gospel Choir
Patricia Brown, Choreographer; Ahanti Young, Drummer
The Allen Room, Frederick P. Rose Hall; Jazz at Lincoln Center; New York, NY
June 18, 2010
Spirit Journey

The Spirit Journey

In a concert presented by Distinguished Concerts International New York (DCINY) and dedicated to the memory of the great Gospel scholar Dr. Horace Clarence Boyer (1935-2009), the excellent choral conductor, Darcy Reese, led the Lincoln Gospel Choir and Swingsations Jazz Choir, along with the Twin Cities Gospel Choir and their amazing vocalist, Robert Robinson, in engaging, moving and beautifully prepared performances of stylistically versatile works that told the evolution of Africans during the last 400 years. Normally, this type of evening might be held on Martin Luther King Day, but this story of wrong-doing, struggle and freedom could be told any time of year—and often. And normally, a choir of African-American descent might present this program, but here, the choruses were from Minnesota, an all-Caucasian group that took on the responsibility of the historical significance of this event and the demands of singing in authentic African, Jazz, Blues and Gospel styles. To say they were successful would be an understatement. And they brought down the packed house at Lincoln Center. The students in the choir, who sang from memory, are high school-age, yet their collective voices, commitment and choreography (Patricia Brown, director) were presented at a high, professional level. All the professional instrumentalists, mostly comprised of drummers led by Ahanti Young, were terrific as well.

In Otieno’s arrangement of “Sigalagala” and Marsh’s arrangement of “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg”, Zach Bauer, a young singer in the chorus, was excellent, singing first in authentic African dialect and later in a convincing Soul/R&B style. The Choreography of five dancers at the beginning of the evening was interesting, but the dancing talent among the students was not the concert’s sure-fire strength. In “Denko”, Hailey Bayne sang with a lovely voice. In Barnwell’s Spirituals, Robert Robinson was the epitome of heartfelt emotion. David Stenson’s tone was a bit shaky in his portrayal of Dell’s “Nobody Knows the Trouble I See”, but singing after Robinson is a very tough act to follow. Becca Kruta and Brenna Skallet (from the chorus) sang “Way Beyond the Blue” with great confidence and spirit, although the harmonizations were slightly off pitch. “Hold On” was sung with a unified sense of diction, swing and phrasing, especially with the word ‘everything’ in “everything will be all right”, which had snazzy zip in the fast-rising crescendo on the first two syllables and the punchy staccato on the third syllable. “I Wanna Die Easy When I Die” was sung absolutely gloriously by Robinson and the choir, which swayed with deep devotion. The Twin Cities Gospel Choir is a force to be reckoned with. The Saxophonist Kathy Jensen was excellent throughout.

“Great Day” and “If I had a Hammer”, performed back-to-back, were tied in to the Civil War of the 1860’s and the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s, incorporating Jazz and Blues. A characterization of Rosa Parks was fitting but a bit jarring after mention of the 1860s. “I’ll be Alright” and “We Shall Overcome” were sung with great Gospel feeling. Gershwin’s Piano Prelude, which followed the bit of narration: “…but they had their jazz” doesn’t work because Gershwin wasn’t exactly African American;  for the sake of the program, it would have been better to have talented young pianist Brianna Drevlow (from the chorus) learn some Art Tatum or a Duke Ellington arrangement instead. The Gershwin, in any case, was played with impressive flair— albeit too much hurry. Ahanti Young was the marvelous vocal percussionist (a la Bobby McFerrin) in Marsh’s arrangement of “Don’t You Worry ‘bout a Thing” against a cappella chorus that was only off pitch a few times.

In the final section, in which the presence of Gospel scholar, Dr. Boyer, was truly felt, and in which the audience was invited to participate, every successive number—complete with clapping and choreographed choral movement– sounded like it couldn’t be topped, but it was. “Do You Know the Light”, with its rapid-fire, layered entrances were infectious and intoxicating, drawing to mind some of the dizzying scenes in the film “The Blues Brothers.” But this was more than spectacle; these young kids from Minnesota somehow had an innate, profound understanding of the history of Africans and African Americans, and that devotion always transmitted to the audience with great poignancy. This chorus and these soloists sang with chemistry and conviction all the way through this marathon program of two and a half hours (without intermission). That of course is the least they could do, considering how much Africans and African Americans have had to endure throughout history. This presentation, which should be repeated as much as possible, has the ability to be as timeless or important as the novel “To Kill a Mockingbird” or the Spielberg film “Amistad.” Everyone on stage seemed very proud of non-existing prejudice, a prejudice that seems to have finally disappeared during this time of the first African-American presidency, four hundred years after slavery began.

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

New York Philharmonic

New York Philharmonic
Alan Gilbert, conductor
Lisa Batiashvili, violin
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
June 12, 2010
Alan Gilbert

Alan Gilbert

This concert was the first of three to be conducted by Alan Gilbert this month to conclude his opening season as Music Director of the New York Philharmonic. His adventurous, imaginative programming has brought us more contemporary works than have been heard here for many years. One of the most prominently featured composers was Magnus Lindberg (b. 1958) from Finland, whom Gilbert installed as the Philharmonic’s Composer-in-Residence. Indeed, the current season opened with one of Lindberg’s works, EXPO, and this program began with the Philharmonic premiere of another, Arena for Orchestra. Commissioned to write the required test work for the first Sibelius Conductors’ Competition in 1995, Lindberg deliberately made it an obstacle course for the conductor, with frequent tempo and meter changes and drastic textural and dynamic contrasts. Scored for an enormous orchestra whose percussion section uses every known and some unknown instruments, it begins in a sonic haze, but soon erupts into brass fanfares; occasionally something resembling a melody tries to emerge, but is immediately driven away by the next outburst of brass and percussion. Gilbert has performed the work many times and conducted it with confidence and authority; the Philharmonic negotiated all the hurdles with admirable aplomb. The composer was present to share the applause.

The program’s soloist was the phenomenal young Georgian violinist, Lisa Batiashvili, in the Sibelius Concerto. It has become her signature piece since, aged 16, she won second prize as the youngest-ever competitor at the 1995 Sibelius Competition. After that, her career on stage and recording became meteoric, and no wonder. She has the flair of a virtuoso without the flourishes and mannerisms. Her technique is dazzling, but she never calls attention to it, making the most hair-raising fireworks seem as easy as breathing, blithely taking risks with supreme confidence. Her tone, enhanced by a famous Stradivarius violin, is gorgeous, capable of infinite variations of color, nuance and intensity. Best of all, her playing is expressive but never exaggerated or fussy, and her stage presence, too, is simple and natural. From the Concerto’s icy, misty beginning, the stormy climaxes built up organically; the slow movement was all inward tenderness, the Finale all driving, rocking energy. 

Lisa Batiashvili

Lisa Batiashvili

The program ended with Brahms’ Second Symphony in a lovely performance that balanced dignity with exuberance, warmth with austerity, repose with excitement. The orchestra played splendidly.  

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Temple University Symphony Orchestra

Temple University Symphony Orchestra
Louis Biava, conductor;
Terell Stafford, trumpet
Alice Tully Hall, New York, NY
April 9, 2010


This concert “celebrated the American creative spirit” by combining photography and music. The program featured the “three B’s” American style – Barber, Bernstein, and Brubeck (Dave and his son Chris) – and included two New York premieres: the Brubecks’ “Ansel Adams: America,” and Bill Cunliffe’s fourth stream… La Banda (The Band). Composers Dave Brubeck and Bill Cunliffe were present, as were several members of Adams’ family.

The program’s only non-jazz work was Samuel Barber’s 1942 Essay No. 2, three continuous movements, the first slow and stately, the second an energetic fugue, and the third a “solemn chorale.” In Leonard Bernstein’s own symphonic arrangement of the Three Dances from his “On the Town,” the orchestra admirably captured the nostalgia of the middle section and the vibrant liveliness of the outer dance movements.

The program’s centerpiece was “Ansel Adams: America,” the Brubecks’ collaborative work written to accompany a projection on screen of Adams’ photographs of the American West. The concept was inspired by the composers’ discovery that Adams intended to become a concert pianist until, overwhelmed by the scenic beauty of Yosemite, he turned to photography instead. At the concert, the orchestra performed the music while Adams’ photographic images were displayed on a huge screen behind it. Proceeding without pause or interruption, this visual and auditory experience created a riveting cumulative impact. However, concentrating on both eventually became difficult; and, since each element was absorbing and beautiful enough to stand on its own, one began to wonder whether the simultaneity acted as an enhancement or a distraction.

Bill Cunliffe cites as his inspiration John Lewis and the Modern Jazz Quartet as well as the distinctive rhythms of Latin music. For his La Banda, a jazz band with a large percussion section was added to the orchestra; the players were splendid, but so enthusiastic that they obliterated virtually everything else. Trumpeter Terell Stafford was fine but also had only one dynamic: fortissimo. The orchestra, apart from some doubtful intonation in the winds, was excellent throughout. Maestro Luis Biava was at home in every style and in full command of his forces. The audience was extremely responsive, but included a large group of friends whose behavior was more suitable to a private party than a public cultural event.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY