New Amsterdam Symphony Orchestra in Review

New Amsterdam Symphony Orchestra Guerguan Tsenov, conductor
Gabrielius Alekna, piano
Symphony Space; New York, NY
April 11, 2011

Gabrielius Alekna

The New Amsterdam Symphony Orchestra’s April 7th concert at Symphony Space had a fine guest soloist, Lithuanian pianist Gabrielius Alekna and a solid guest conductor, Bulgarian Guerguan Tsenov, who led this semi-professional ensemble in works by Beethoven and Brahms.

Mr. Alekna, according to the biography in the printed program, is the only Lithuanian to hold a D.M.A. from the Juilliard School, where he studied with Jerome Lowenthal. Alekna, who has garnered several impressive honors, won more than a dozen top prizes in competitions–both stateside and in Europe: Second Prize in the 2005 International Beethoven Piano Competition; Hilton Head (USA); Maria Canals (Spain); Guirlionis (Lithuania); and has soloed with the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra (Bertrand de Billy); the Juilliard Orchestra (James de Priest); and also the Belarus State Symphony, the Lithuanian Chamber Orchestra and the Christopher Chamber Orchestra. A devoted chamber musician, Mr. Alekna  performed the Bartok Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion with Ursula Oppens and New York Philharmonic timpanist Joe Periera. He has also collaborated with the cellist Zvi Harel, and with both the Vilnius and Cuirlianus String Quartets. Daniel Barenboim recently cited him as “a highly gifted pianist and musician.” He brought sterling virtuosity and comprehension to Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto, Op. 73. His assured but refined pianism had clarity, bravura authority, and easily held its own amidst Beethoven’s busy orchestration. He obliged his enthusiastic admirers with a lovely, flexible singing  acount  of “Bruyeres” from Debussy’s second book of Preludes.  

Earlier, the orchestra played conscientious, traditional versions of the “Egmont” Overture and the Brahms Variations on a Theme by Haydn, Op. 56a.  Maestro Tsenov has studied with Kurt Masur, and has also participated in seminars with David Zinman, George Manahan, and Michael Tilson Thomas. In company with his piano soloist, Tsenov (who is a pianist himself) is a knowing, well- grounded musician.

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

CD Review: Tien Hsieh, piano

CD Review: Tien Hsieh, piano
“Mostly Transcriptions” in Review
Tien Hsieh; Piano Titanic Ti273
Bach-Busoni Toccata, Adagio and Fugue in C Major, BMW 564
Schubert-Liszt  “Der Muller and der Bach“, D. 795 No. 19 (S. 565); ‘‘Die Schone Mulleri“
Chopin-Liszt  Meine Freuden, Op. 74 No. 5
Bach-Liszt Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor, BMV 542
Schumann-Liszt “Widmung” (Myrthen, Op. 25 No.1)
Cortese Elegy (2008)
Schumann-Liszt “Frulingsnacht“ (Liederkries, Op. 39 No.12)
Schubert-Liszt “Litanei auf das Fest Aller Seelen“, D. 343
Liszt “Venezia e Napoli” (Gondoliera; Canzone; Tarantella)

Tien Hsieh

The two exceptions to this “Mostly Transcriptions” CD are the “Venezia e Napoli” triptych from Liszt’s Second Book “Italie” of his work Annes de Pelerinage (Years of Pilgrimage), and Glen Cortese’s Elegy, composed in 2008. Along with the Bach-Busoni, both were handsomely played at Ms. Hsieh’s Weill Hall recital in May 2008 (which I had the pleasure of reviewing in Volume 15 No. 3 of this journal). When I heard the Cortese at its World Premiere, I expressed a desire to rehear the composition. On closer scrutiny, the Elegy is indeed attractive–in a style rather reminiscent of Copland’s vintage period (e.g. “Appalachian Spring”).

I was hoping that Ms. Hsieh would have likewise recorded the rarely encountered and atypically self-effacing Liszt piano transcription of Beethoven’s song cycle “An die Ferne Geliebte”, and perhaps she will on her next CD. But ‘faute de mieux’, I am very pleased that she has returned with her impressively exciting accounts of the Bach-Busoni and also the Bach-Liszt Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor, and the Schumann-Liszt “Widmung” (which was likewise an encore at the end of the 2008 Weill Hall concert). I still retain in my mind’s ear beautiful performances of Beethoven’s Op. 111 and Schumann’s “Humoresque” at that recital.

In commenting upon this recorded anthology, I can reiterate that Tien Hsieh is a formidable virtuoso and also a magnetic musical persona. Her bio says she was born in Taiwan and that she studied with her mother, Sylvia Hsieh (a renowned pedagogue in her own right), and with Dr. Marc Silverman at the Manhattan School of Music (her other mentors were Abbey Simon, Ruth Tomfohrde, Jane Allen and Carol Tafoya). In terms of color, texture and concentration on detail, she immediately makes you sit up and take notice! The opening measures of the Bach-Busoni Toccata, slashing and sparely pedaled, along with the arranger’s clever “Busonifications”, recreate the facsimile of the original organ, with its characteristic squeal and visceral intensity. (I might add that the state-of-the-art fidelity of the recording further enhances the physical allure of this thrusting and appropriate interpretation). (Note too, Ms. Hsieh’s precise articulation of the Fugue).

Her high-Romanticism approach works wondrously well in much of the chosen selections, although just two of the compositions of the “Mostly Transcriptions” roster may be a little ‘too much’:  The Liszt version of “Der Muller und der Bach” seems a trifle fussy, with the melodic line overstretched, and Ms. Hsieh, in my opinion, allows the accompaniment roulades to be a distraction away from the gravitas, and at the expense of ongoing simplicity. (There is a remarkable recording on Vista Vera by the Soviet pianist Rosa Tamarkina, (1920-1950), who died tragically from cancer at the age of 30). Likewise, the Van Cliburn RCA recording of his signature piece, the Schumann-Liszt “Widmung”, also strikes this writer as more ongoing and less finicky than Ms. Hsieh’s.

Liszt’s “Venezia e Napoli” is, to be sure, an intriguing contrast to Jerome Lowenthal’s just released version, Bridge 9307A/C, of the complete “Annees de Pelerinage”, and Lowenthal’s tautly structural interpretation. Lowenthal, who studied with the late William Kapell, makes a wonderful contrast with Ms. Hsieh’s slower, more ruminative take on the pieces. Both extremes make cogent good sense as unquestionably ‘idiomatic’.

All of the remaining items are, in their various ways, miraculously and convincingly recreated. Note, too, that the total timing of 77:15 is uncommonly generous. The disc is warmly recommended.

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

Maximilan Anikushin and Friends in Review

Maximilan Anikushin and Friends in Review
Samuel Barber Centenary Recital
Bruno Walter Auditorium
Lincoln Center; New York City, NY
November 18, 2010

Maxim Anikushin

The splendid pianist Maximilan Anikushin, with his friends, mounted a welcome and comprehensive retrospective to honor the centenary of the American composer Samuel Barber in the midst of bicentennial tributes to Haydn (d. 1809), Mendelssohn (b. 1809), Chopin and Schumann (both born in 1810.)  (Orage warning: the Liszt bicentennial will be coming down the pike—prepare for another onslaught imminently!) Barber’s beautifully crafted music richly deserves celebration and it is, without question, more audience-friendly than Elliot Carter, who is still with us (Barber died in 1981.)  

The first half of the program was devoted to Barber’s solo piano works, commencing with his most famous and impressive piece, the sonata, commissioned by Vladimir Horowitz, who premiered it in 1949 and subsequently recorded it for RCA Victor. Mr. Anikushin’s beautifully written program annotations interestingly relate that the composer had initially wanted the work to be a three movement sonata, but Horowitz convinced him that the piece needed a “very flashy last movement.” This last movement caused Barber much frustration. After months with no progress, Horowitz telephoned Barber and, hoping to inspire him, called him a ‘constipated composer.’ Barber became angry and wrote the entire last movement (the Fuga) the next day! This was in June 1949, nearly two years after the work was commissioned.  

The Sonata was appropriately followed by the four Excursions–vintage 1945–also in its day quite popular; Nadia Reisenberg performed them at her 1947 Carnegie Hall recital (published by Bridge Records, 9304A/B) and gave them to countless pupils. Next came a fine nocturne written in 1959 to honor John Field (not Chopin as one might have thought). The Three Sketches were the juvenilia of a talented teenager: A Love Song “To My Mother”, Tempo di Valse (1924); To My Steinway Number 2201 (Adagio, 1923); and “A Minuet to Sara”, (1923). Barber confesses that he “borrowed” its theme from Beethoven’s notoriously popular Minuet in G Major.  

Anikushin’s elegant performances were models of style, humor and– when called for–brilliantly clean, incisive technique; architecturally crystal clear and also amply subjective without hypertension. Anikushin told me that he loves Barber, and his adoration and enthusiasm were brilliantly self-evident.  

Anikushin, whose May 9, 1999 debut at Carnegie’s Weill Recital Hall earned high praise from this reviewer in New York Concert Review: “…undoubtedly destined to enter the annals of his generation’s important young pianists”, has studied with Y.I.Batuyev, Milton Salkind, Oxana Yablonskaya and Solomon Mikowsky, and holds Bachelor’s, Master’s and Doctoral degrees from the Juilliard School and the Manhattan School of Music.  

After intermission, Dr. Anikushin gave a vibrant and memorable account of the 1932 Sonata for Cello and Piano, partnered by Adrian Daurov, who is currently at Juilliard. The Canzone for Flute and Piano, Op. 38a of 1961, was played by flutist Mayumi Yokomizo with a big, luscious tone (it may have been her gold instrument that partly influenced me!) Finally, there was a group of Five Songs: “Promiscuity”, Op.29, No.7 (1953), “The Secrets of the Old”, Op.13 No. 3 (1938), “Sure on this Shining Night”(1938), “A Nun Takes the Veil”, Op. 13 No.1 (1937) and “The Desire for Hermitage”, Op. 29, No. 10 (1953), communicatively sung by Megan Moore, an alumna of Hope College and the Manhattan School of Music.

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

Solomon Mikowsky Dedication Concert in Review

Solomon Mikowsky Dedication Concert in Review
Solomon Gadles Mikowsky Recital Hall, New York, NY
Manhattan School of Music
October 3, 2010

Dr. Solomon Mikowsky

“Turnabout is fair play”, the saying goes. Frequently, an institution will pay homage to a great and distinguished member of its faculty. But this time, Solomon Mikowsky – who has certainly earned a tribute for his years as a renowned piano pedagogue who has produced many fine artists (and competition winners) –  honored the Manhattan School of Music with a beautiful and heartwarming gesture: a gift of a superb recital hall, replete with two Steinway concert grand pianos and a capacity for audio and video recording (plus a third Steinway Model B grand for his adjacent studio). On Sunday afternoon, October 3rd, I was honored to be present for the grand opening festivities of the Solomon Gadles Mikowsky Recital Hall on the third floor of the MSM. Dr. Mikowsky’s tribute was not only to this school, but also in honor of 12 of his former and present pupils who held forth with a fine concert by way of a retrospect. The live recital commenced with a recorded performance of Bach’s Fantasy and Fugue in A Minor as performed by Mikowsky at the age of fourteen. In front of the audience was a photograph of the fledgling virtuoso (what a handsome devil he was!). Later on, at the behest of many of his appreciative charges, Dr. Mikowsky (who was going to remain silent) played a Galuppi Sonata with elegant taste and good tone, showing us all that he can still “do” as well as teach!

Dr. Mikowsky was born Solomon Gadles in Cuba of Russian-Polish parentage and his mother’s maiden name was Mikowska. His early musical training was with Cesar Perez Sentenat, who had studied in Madrid with Cubiles and in Paris with Joaquin Nin, a pupil of Moszkowski, himself a pupil of Liszt. Later, he earned his degrees at the Juilliard School, working with Sascha Gorodnitzki (Bachelors and Masters degrees) and a doctorate from Columbia University. Frequently invited to serve on the juries of important international piano competitions, he has given master classes worldwide, and is the author of a book on nineteenth-century Cuban music.

Dr. Solomon Mikowsky with his students. Photo Credit: Brian Hatton

The impressive recitalists included two Domenico Scarlatti sonatas (A Minor, Longo 241, Kirkpatrick 54; and A Major, L. 395, K. 533) played with brilliant note-perfect fluency by Inesa Sinkevych, but with one gaffe: the printedprogram attributed them to Domenico’s father, Alessandro, 1660-1725 (who wrote vocal music!); Liszt’s F Minor Concert Etude, La Leggierezza (Ian Yungwook Yoo); Chopin’s C-sharp Minor Etude, Op. 10, No. 4 (Kookhee Hong); Albeniz’s Asturias (Jovianney Emmanuel Cruz); Albeniz’s Evocacion from Iberia (Gustavo Diaz-Jerez (who had originally intended to play El Puerto from the same work); Lecuona’s Cordoba (Yuan Sheng, who played lustily, although I have heard him play Bach wonderfully well and also had glowing words for his Schubert B flat Sonata, D. 960); the ubiquitous Albeniz Tango in Godowsky’s  gussied-up arrangement (Ren Zhang); Scriabin’s Etude in C-sharp Minor, Op 8, No. 12 (Alexander Moutouzkine); Ravel’s “Pavane pour une infante  defunte” (Youngho Kim); Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Major, Op. 32, No. 5 (Wael Farouk, a Shura Cherkassy look-alike who I glowingly reviewed in New York Concert Review for his account of Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto with the MSM orchestra last year); Busoni’s Sonatine super Carmen No. 6, K. 284 (Kirill Gerstein, a recent Gilmore Artist Award and Avery Fisher Grant winner); and finally the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations (Simone Dinnerstein; truly an Aria da Capo; the first time I heard her play at the tender age of 11, Ms. Dinnerstein was a pupil of Dr. Mikowsky and she has many accomplishments to her credit in the intervening years—subsequent studies with Herbert Stessin, Maria Diamond (a student of Artur Schnabel) and Peter Serkin. Herself-produced CD of the Goldberg, now available on Telarc, has been acclaimed a best-seller).

I must comment that the room can accommodate an audience of 50, and that its acoustics are ideally crystal clear, absolutely perfect for the obvious ideals of Dr. Mikowsky’s taste for extreme digital clarity and articulation, Spartan and judicious pedaling and discipline, as opposed to an often esteemed and encountered murkiness that could (and often does) hide a multitude of sins by less technically adroit students.

The concert was followed by a lavish reception and dinner, capping a joyously memorable and touching occasion. Congratulations to all, and especially to Solomon Mikowsky!

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

Sebastyen Nyirö, piano

CD Review: New York Concert Review
Sebastyen Nyirö, piano
Bach’s Aria with Thirty Variations (Goldberg)
April, 2010

This unusual and, ultimately, compelling new recording of Bach’s transcendental Aria Mit Verschiedenen Verandergungen introduces us yet to another outstanding Hungarian pianist, Sebastyen NyirÖ, who was born in 1979. This may well be the broadest and longest performance of the Goldberg Variations ever. NyirÖ favors taking all the repeats (even those in the Aria da Capo which even the near-fanatical purist Claudio Arrau was even willing to forgo in his early 1940s RCA recording released posthumously on two CDs. Rosalyn Tureck, another famous (or notorious) advocate of repeats and slow tempos, likewise ran over onto two CDs in the Philips Great Pianists of the 20th Century reissue. Simone Dinnerstein, another champion of slow tempos, played all the repeats in her in-concert performance at Weill Recital Hall, but reluctantly condoned omitting a few of them in order to limit her commercial recording (a labor-of-love, later taken over by Telarc) to a single CD. Nyirö’s rendition runs to 85 minutes and fourteen seconds: CD no. 1, with the Aria and Variations 1 through 15 taking 40 minutes and 12 seconds; CD no. 2 beginning with the French Ouverture Variation 16 and ending with the Aria da capo runs 42 minutes; 14 seconds for the work’s conclusion.

Quite apart from repeats and deliberation, Nyirö’s ideas via embellishments are extreme and immediately evident. His account of the Aria is so profusely ornamented that this listener was momentarily at a loss for a few seconds to recognize the basic melody amidst the labyrinth of encrustations. One famous pianist, Wilhelm Kempff, made a recording of the Goldberg for D.G. and unconventionally opted to reduce and strip the tema to its bare skeletal bones (banishing even the minimal decorations that Bach’s original included in his notations). NyirÖ, one might say, is the anti-Kempff!

As the recreation unfolds, Nyirö gradually makes us aware of several important qualities: first, his extreme rigor and clarity of contrapuntal texture. In this respect, his interpretation even exceeds this aspect of Glenn Gould’s 1981 second recording (the first—from 1955—couldn’t be more different, with its remarkably fast tempos and the omission of many, if not all, repeats). Also, in similarity with a well known tradition favored by the conductor Otto Klemperer (of linking some variations together in a single mathematical metronomic pulse), Variation 18, for instance, is admittedly brisker than usual, but the next variation follows at exactly the same half speed tempo. The aforementioned rigor is expressed in severely accented (even martellato) rhythms. NyirÖ is remarkably potent in his handling of the French Ouverture Variation No. 16’s first introductory half, although I was admittedly perplexed by his extremely deliberate treatment of the ensuing second half (which I feel is too static, albeit vital and rhythmically steady).

In describing Glenn Gould’s basic style (not only in Bach), I once wrote about his combining “swooning sensuality with ecclesiastic rigor.” Some of this description might likewise apply to Nyirö’s Goldberg, but the rigor is more evident than the sensuality (though I find some of the pianist’s lavish rubatos “swooning” but never “sensual.”) It will, I admit, take numerous rehearings of this recording to accustom me to certain iconoclastic details, but at the moment, only three or four variations made me take umbrage: Variation 25, which Landowska poetically dubbed as “the Black Pearl”, seems to me more akin to a “Schwartze Maria”: rather tediously fragmented and funereal, and lacking requisite flow and lyricism. Variation 28, with its written- out trills (which may sometimes seem to offer a foretaste of the finale of Beethoven’s Waldstein Sonata) is resolutely nailed to the mast. I found Variation 29 aggressively (even assaultively) splashy, and No. 30 could benefit from a touch of requisite levity and humor.

But, ultimately, one is forced to make an attempt to meet Mr.Nyirö on his own terms, pay respect to some technically wonderful pianism, and bow to his deeply motivated, honest experience and his musical thinking. I urge everyone to acknowledge Nyirö’s supreme talent and be tolerant of what may at first seem like off-putting eccentricity.

The recorded sound, incidentally, is vividly realistic.

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

Mana Takuno, piano

Mana Takuno, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
April 10, 2010

Mana Takuno’s excellent performance of an early, rarely heard 1901 work by George Enescu, his Suite No.2 in D Major, Op. 10, delighted me at a May 8, 2008 concert—(see review in Volume 15, No.3 of this journal) , and it made me want to hear more of her playing. I wrote that her exciting interpretation, with its “drive, virtuosity, textual and coloristic diversity”, stole the show from three other young pianists who shared the same concert with her. Ms. Takuno and her program of Poulenc, Thomas Oboe Lee, Beethoven and Schumann afforded me a more comprehensive “fix” on her achievement and pianistic capabilities.

Ms. Takuno commenced with Theme Varie, which I believe was Francis Poulenc’s last work for solo piano. From the outset, the pianist captivated me with a warm, firm, beautifully balanced singing tone, and was alive to every intriguing turn of Poulenc’s whimsy. The second item was Thomas Oboe Lee’s 2009 Takuno Toccata, which was labeled a world premiere (it had been previewed in Boston a few weeks earlier on March 30th.) The work is skillfully written, and Ms. Takuno, the dedicatee, obviously found the Toccata tailor-made for her abilities and musical persona.

Alas, it pains me to relate that Ms. Takuno’s recital, after its auspicious beginning, turned out to be a surprisingly Jekyll and Hyde affair: Beethoven’s Sonata No. 28 in A, Op. 101 began wanly, and then promptly came with memory slips from which she never really recovered. The second movement March was too fast (for her comfort) and rhythmically and technically out of control. The poignant Largo-molto cantabile lacked concentration and intensity, and the Presto Finale was slipshod and lumpy. I will concede that this late-Beethoven Sonata is a tough nut for any young artist to crack, but I was a bit shocked that a player who I had believed to be as experienced and accomplished as Ms. Takuno would have been so technically over-extended and out of her element.

I was even more saddened by her inadequate performance of Schumann’s sublime Davidsbundler Tanze, Op. 6, a work which I had hoped would prove entirely congenial for an artist with an inclination to heartfelt Romanticism. Her version was to be sure “serious”, but it was also “boring”, as her tempos were prevailingly slow and heavy. Admittedly, I much favor Schumann’s earlier first version of the composition. The revised version, which Ms. Takuno validly preferred, burdens the attractive impetuosity and asymmetry with many portentous repeats, and furthermore expunges a few delectable details such as the held over note on the very first phrase and the delicious little pat on the backside at the end of No. 9. But the real problem with Ms. Takuno’s rendition was its technically labored pianistic deficiency (No. 13 was not so much Wild und lustig as muddled and desperate.)The virtuosity I had admired deserted her.

An encore, the Promenade penultimate movement from Schumann’s Carnaval, Op. 9 gave us more of the same, but, fortunately, a second encore—which I am told was part of Thomas Oboe Lee’s 20-9 Fireflies Book III, “Like a Music Box”—let us glimpse anew at the tonal beauty and refinement that had delighted me in Ms. Takuno’s playing in the early stages of her program.

My conclusion is that she is certainly gifted but also a “work in progress.”

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