Wa Concerts Series presents “Beyond Space and Time” in Review

Wa Concerts Series presents “Beyond Space and Time” in Review

Charles Neidich, clarinet; Mohamed Shams, piano
Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY
January 26, 2020

It takes an artist of rare commitment, curiosity, and imagination to adapt three large French works for violin and piano, including both of Gabriel Fauré’s sonatas, to rendition by the clarinet. Such an artist is Charles Neidich, as anyone who regularly attends the fine Wa concerts series will already know. Perhaps Mr. Neidich was thinking of Fauré’s remark (I paraphrase): “I think art, and especially music, exists to lift us as far above the human condition as possible.”Mr.  Neidich was elegantly partnered by pianist Mohamed Shams, who absorbed the complex scores and clarified their textures at every turn.

The evening began with the rarely heard early violin and piano sonata by Ravel. In one sonata-form movement, Ravel touches upon his Basque origins on his mother’s side and seems to presage the opening of his Piano Trio, as well as a certain rather turgid chromaticism that he was loathe to return to in his mature works. Apparently the work was performed only once, in 1897, by noted violinist George Enescu and Ravel; its rediscovery, publication, and public world premiere took place in 1975, by Ravel scholar and biographer Arbie Orenstein (piano) with Gerald Tarack on violin. Tonight’s audience was treated to a brief video of Mr. Orenstein at home speaking with Mr. Neidich about the work and showing some of his priceless collection of Ravel autographs. One interesting feature of the work is how “static” many measures in the piano part are, simply repeating patterns and/or chords two-by-two (or four by four)—this should not actually come as a surprise when one leaps forward thirty-one years to the creation of the most repetitive work in the standard orchestra repertoire: Bolero.

The first half concluded with Fauré’s Violin Sonata No. 1 in A major, Op. 13, a work that surges with the passionate heat of his romantic involvement with Marianne Viardot, daughter of famed mid-19th century contralto opera diva Pauline Viardot. The sonata is dedicated to Pauline’s violinist son, Paul Viardot. The engagement did not go well: Fauré was extremely possessive and jealous, neither one had particularly good health, and Marianne broke off relations with Gabriel. We must remember into what a dismal state chamber music had fallen in France at this time. A new French national society had been formed after France’s disastrous defeat in the Franco-Prussian war precisely to remedy this (the sonata was premiered at this society on January 27, 1877, with the composer at the piano and violinist Marie Tayau,). Fauré’s sonata was written ten years before Franck’s sonata in the same key. The performance had lovely and appropriate rubato, which was never excessive. One area in which the clarinet’s limitations show (as substituted for the violin), is in the extreme upper registers. Things that would not be particularly difficult for a string player take on a too-bright quality, though Mr. Neidich sensitively lowered some phrases by an octave—I could have used a bit more rearrangement like that. Also, broken octaves, so idiomatic and easy on violin (string crossing) become obstacle courses for an embouchure. I must mention the gossamer tempo of the scherzo movement, Mr. Shams was brilliantly leggierissimo, as demanded by Fauré. The slow movement was dignified in its mournful tread. In a supreme irony, Fauré’s friend Camille Clerc, convinced prestigious music publisher Breitkopf to take a risk and publish the work, but for a flat fee; one of Fauré’s best-sellers would generate no royalties for him.

After intermission, Mr. Shams took the stage by himself for a performance of Alban Berg’s seminal Piano Sonata, an astonishing “Opus 1,” composed in 1909 and premiered the following year. It is an apotheosis of late-Romanticism, straining at the bounds of tonality without breaking them. I sometimes refer to it as “Brahms’ Opus 219.” An intricate interlocking of motives based on fourths, both melodic and harmonic, leads us through this single-movement sonata (though Mr. Shams omitted the exposition repeat). Practically every note in the work has multiple markings and words written in the score specifying this or that alteration to tempo, dynamic, articulation. All this was organized beautifully by Mr. Shams, and he savored the manifold color changes with a very personal sense of involvement—there are many possible approaches to this score.

The concert concluded with Fauré’s  Violin Sonata No. 2 in E minor, Op. 108, a work of his late years, after the tragic deafness that forced him into a more private, interior world. What is interesting is the way the first movement is actually quite violent emotionally, compared to what one “expects” from the master of charm. This reflects not only anger at his infirmity, but also the murderous raging of World War I during which it was composed. The dedicatee is Elisabeth, Queen of Belgium, a nation that was overrun by that very war. To this day, there exists a music competition in Belgium in her name. This work is not well known, even by musicians, let alone the general public; it seems to speak its own private language. But if one has ears to hear, the subtleties and harmonic audacities are stunning, and the amount of canonic writing (a favorite procedure of Fauré) between solo and right or left hand of the piano is immense. The slow movement is an elegy for a vanishing civilization. Ultimately, the work finishes with a cheerful, sometimes wistful, rondo. Both players were beautifully expressive, though some of the aforementioned register issues surfaced.

After such an esoteric evening, Mr. Neidich curated one more transcription as an encore, another rarely heard violin-piano work, Fauré’s Andante in B-flat major, Op. 75. This genial mid-period work is a recycling of a projected slow movement from a never-completed violin concerto from Fauré’s early period. This contained some of the finest lyricism of the evening, and the players were greeted with the customary loud ovations, prior to the audience’s hastening to the delicious dinner offering prepared by Mr. Neidich’s clarinet/chef spouse, Ayako Oshima.

There remain two more Wa concerts this season. A word to the wise: Wend your way there.

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Wa Concerts presents John Harbison and Joan Tower Birthday Celebration: The enchantment of folklore in Review

Wa Concerts presents John Harbison and Joan Tower Birthday Celebration: The enchantment of folklore in Review

Charles Neidich and Ayako Oshima, clarinet; Sally Chisholm, viola; Mohamed Shams, piano
Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY
September 29, 2018

 

The third series of “Wa” concerts opened on Saturday with customary excellence from the superb curator, clarinetist Charles Neidich and his collaborators Ayako Oshima (clarinet), Sally Chisholm (viola), and Mohamed Shams (piano). The intimacy of the Tenri space is really part of the success of these concerts, bringing chamber music back to “the chamber” as it were, surrounded by visual art as well. Besides the double birthday celebration, a sub-theme was the influence of folk music on classical “art” music, whether be from itinerant outdoor players, indigenous/religious cultures, or popular song.

 

On this occasion we were treated not only to the delicious symphony of food and drink prepared lovingly by his wife Ayako Oshima, but also to her deliciously elegant and appropriately humorous clarinet playing in the opening trios (six of the thirteen, Op. 47) by Franz Krommer, a Bohemian composer born three years after Mozart, whose lifespan outlasted those of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Schubert. No one is going to mistake Krommer for one of those immortals, but in the hands of such stylish virtuosi (along with energetic viola playing by Sally Chisholm), the best possible case was made for these pieces, described by Mr. Neidich as “street music” transformed and sublimated into Austro-Hungarian elegance.

 

Joan Tower and John Harbison both turn 80 this year. Ms. Tower was seated one chair away from me, and she does NOT seem 80, whatever that is supposed to be. She is gregarious, humorous, and of course whip-smart and talented. She introduced her fiendishly difficult clarinet solo Wings (originally titled Panthers, then Falcons, and finally Wings) by acknowledging how important the instrument has been to her for her entire career—that it “can do anything.” And boy did it do everything, in Mr. Neidich’s stunning portrayal. His ascents into the stratospheric regions of the instrument were all the more exciting preceded by the mellow low registers, every note true and melodious, somehow amid the encyclopedia of treacherous pitfalls for the player.

 

After this workout, no ambulance had to be summoned. Instead Mr. Neidich plunged right into Harbison’s The 9 Rasas, for clarinet, viola, and piano, a 2016 work in its New York premiere. Harbison could not be present due to work on a viola sonata for this evening’s violist, Ms. Chisholm. Harbison relates: “It interested me especially that the Rasas were conceived as juices, essences, tastes . . . In my quest to write music of diverse musical characters, and as part of a continuing wayward interest in Hindu culture, I knew even before studying the concept of the Nine Rasas that I would write a piece with that title. I approach such a piece with no intention of a touristic borrowing from the musical speech of that culture, but rather with the pleasure of seizing a musical opportunity. . . According to the Rasa theory of the Natya Shastra, entertainment is a desired effect of performance arts but not the primary goal. The primary goal is to transport the individual in the audience into another parallel reality, full of wonder and bliss, where he experiences the essence of his own consciousness, and reflects on spiritual and moral questions.” And that’s exactly what happened, with faultless unisons between clarinet and viola (always difficult to tune) and perfect ensemble with piano. And may I say, Mr. Shams is fast becoming one of my favorite collaborative chamber pianists in the New York area. His energy, sonority, and humor are seemingly infinite.

 

After intermission, Joan Tower’s music was again heard, this time the 1983 Fantasy (. . . those harbor lights), which contains an un-obvious programmatic reference to a difficult farewell to a romantic partner when she was sixteen, and the popular song that was playing at the time (originally written in 1937, published in 1950, and covered by such notables as Elvis Presley and The Platters). How indelible the sense of hearing can be! The work, for clarinet and piano, depicts (but not slavishly) the twinkling of lights over water, the rocking back and forth of ships, and of course the emotional intensity of the two lovers. It was a highlight of the evening for me, and the performance was preceded by just a few bars of the original song played by Mr. Shams alone. As Mr. Neidich noted, if you were counting on hearing a snippet of the song quoted literally, you were out of luck—transformation of materials at its most rigorous, yet enjoyable.

 

Mr. Shams then played the brief, claveciniste-inspired Minuet (for Joan Tower) by Harbison, the perfect inter-composer tribute, with clarity amid the trills and the modern tonal vocabulary, a sort of “Couperin seen through a fun-house mirror.”

 

The concert concluded with real Gallic “impudence” in the form of Jean Françaix’ antic Trio for clarinet, viola, and piano, brilliantly rendered by these top-of-the-line players. It roared and danced and still had time for crystalline, typically “French” sound. Bravi to all!

 

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by Frank Daykin  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY
Tenri Cultural Institute presents Wa Concert Series- The Originality of Greatness: Celebrating Elliott Carter’s 109th Birthday in Review

Tenri Cultural Institute presents Wa Concert Series- The Originality of Greatness: Celebrating Elliott Carter’s 109th Birthday in Review

Charles Neidich, Ayako Oshima, clarinet; Alexi Kenney, violin; Fred Sherry, cello; Lucy Shelton, Amber Evans, sopranos; Mohamed Shams, piano; John Link, musicologist
Tenri Cultural Institute, New York, NY
December 16, 2017

 

Only a musician with unforced naturalness of phrasing, total command of his instrument, and a puckish humor such as is possessed by Charles Neidich, could make an entire evening of Elliott Carter’s thorny chamber music approachable. He also assembled a team of superlative collaborators—four of the evening’s seven musicians had major experience working with Carter, including close personal friendships. This kind of advocacy is crucial if his music is to stay in the repertoire. Carter died just five years ago, a couple of weeks shy of his 104th birthday, and he was composing virtually up to the end of his long, productive life.

In illuminating remarks by John Link, it became clear that Carter viewed the lion’s share of his music as representing vivid characters. Each note had to be played with the fierce delineation that he had in mind, whether that represented one character with conflicting emotions, or interplay between several characters. Carter did not compose unless he was truly emotionally motivated to do so, even though the popular perception of his output is one of atonality and layers of rhythmic complexity (which are certainly there!). Most of Carter’s works have what I call an “arch” shape, with a satisfying sense of rightness to their endings; although some just end abruptly, like a candle flame being blown out. Carter’s curiosity was relentless, exploring literature, languages, and food with intensity and humor.

Mr. Neidich opened the evening, partnered by the evening’s excellent pianist Mohamed Shams, with the easy-to-take Pastorale, it was the earliest work on the program, showing some of the late-romantic traditions Carter would leave behind definitively. Hiyoku (Two Wings) for two clarinets had Mr. Neidich in duo with his wife Ayako Oshima, also a phenomenal clarinetist, as well as the chef behind the prodigious feasts laid out for all the audiences at these Wa concerts. Their ensemble was understandably perfect. Mr. Shams shone in the Two Thoughts About The Piano solos, the second of which, Caténaires, was a blistering perpetual motion toccata that seemed powered by nuclear energy. Duettino brought together violinist Alexi Kenney and veteran Carter specialist, cellist Fred Sherry (former artistic advisor of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, founder of Speculum Musicae and Tashi), sharing violent alternations of bowed and plucked notes with equal ferocity.

Another lifelong devotee of the contemporary music world, Lucy Shelton, shared duties with a younger soprano, Amber Evans, in the Poems of Louis Zukofsky. Here, Ms. Shelton’s years of commanding performance showed her total mastery not only of the difficult music, but intelligibility of every word; her attentiveness to the clarinet showed her fabulous attention to detail, while never removing emotion from her often witty presentation. Ms. Evans’ songs had more difficult tessiturae, perhaps that impeded some of the words, but her voice was true and powerful. I’m sure Carter was, as mentioned before, moved by this poetry, but I find that his settings often do “get in the way” of the words, my limitation I’m sure.

After the intermission of this long evening,Mr. Kenney, Mr.Neidich, and Mr. Sherry combined to present the Omaggio a Italo Calvino, as Con leggerezza pensosa was known. These players exude the Carter style with utter naturalness. Then Mr. Neidich played the brief solo Gra, which led me to wonder if the title was the Gaelic word for love. Alexi Kenney was brilliant in the solo violin work Rhapsodic Musings. I regard this as Carter’s answer to Ravel’s Tzigane, and Mr. Kenney’s intonation and style were perfection itself, with every double stop interval of a seventh (and they are cruel!) as pure as one can imagine.

Finally came the staple of Carter’s chamber offerings, the great Sonata for Cello and Piano from 1948 (revised in 1966). This four movement behemoth was dispatched with firm command and a wide variety of colors by Mr. Sherry and Mr.  Shams. It doesn’t sound nearly as forbidding as it looks on the page, and even makes sly nods to tonality (heavily disguised) and the old Dies Irae that had so fascinated composers from Berlioz to Liszt and Rachmaninoff. Forgive me, Elliott, for noticing! The work is also cyclic, that is themes from the first movement reappear at the end, adding to the work’s comprehensibility, as did this perfect performance. The enthusiastic audience really hollered its approval after it was over.

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