Dan Franklin Smith, piano: “La Vida Iberiana” in Review

Dan Franklin Smith, piano: “La Vida Iberiana” in Review
Musica de Camara
St. Cecilia’s Church, New York, NY
February 18, 2011
 

Dan Franklin Smith

Just less than a year ago, I had the pleasure of giving a rave review to Dan Franklin Smith in a recital of works by living composers. Though that first hearing set the bar very high, I was delighted, in his recent program entitled “La Vida Iberiana,” to find that my enthusiasm for his artistry has not waned.

Mr. Smith embarked on his musical tour appropriately with Turina’s “Sanlúcar de Barrameda,” named for the port in Spain from which explorers Columbus and Magellan set sail. The “Sonata Pintoresca” as it is subtitled, was resplendent with the colors and imagery of Spain (as suggested by titles of its four contrasting movements) and was played with virtuosity and sensitivity. Improvisational transitions that can sometimes sound vapid possessed life and inevitability, while trills that can easily sound meretricious were gripping and heartfelt. Mr. Smith strikes one as the kind of player whose integrity could probably ennoble even the most maligned and cliché-ridden works; in a world where Ravel is used for commercials and Liszt is played by cartoon characters, such playing is a much-needed antidote.

It is always a joy to see the still-underappreciated Mompou on a program, and Mr. Smith’s Cancion y Danza No. 6 that followed was no exception. I would have liked its phrases wrung a bit more of their inherent pathos, but that is perhaps a tall order after the exhausting and exhaustive Turina. It could also be that the piano was not cooperating (an Otto Altenburg in a highly reverberant church), but in any case, there was room for more dynamic nuance.

To close the first portion of the program was Infante’s “El Vito Variations”, which had some audience members humming with happy recognition. Though I confess I’ve always thought of the piece as unlikable kitsch (and yes, there’s some kitsch I like), Mr. Smith’s expert treatment came close to redeeming it for me.

“La Maja y el Ruisenor” (“The Maiden and the Nightingale”) by Granados (from Goyescas) opened after intermission. Once again, the piano did not seem ideally suited to the piece, but the pianist handled the tinnier treble lines with grace.  Following the Granados came Surinach’s Cancion y Danza, No. 1, a nice but contrasting tie-in to Mompou’s work of the same title.

Representing Portugal, Vianna da Motta’s delightfully pianistic “Chula do Douro” (from Scenas Portuguesas, Op. 15) gave another perspective on “La Vida Iberiana,” albeit filtered through Lisztian ears. Mr. Smith played it with élan, setting a good backdrop for the plaintive opening of “Alma Brasileira” (Choros #5) by Brazilian, Villa-Lobos, played with a wonderful coloristic sense and plenty of atmosphere. Iberian influence on the New World entered the program here.

“Sin Rumbo” (subtitled Vuelvo al Sur or “Return to the South”) was a welcome taste of the ever-popular Piazzolla, and Santa Maria (#1 from Plenas) by Hector Campos-Parsi brought the musical tour to the infectious rhythms of Puerto Rico, energetically projected. The recital closed with André Previn’s “Three South American Sketches” (Festivo, Flor de Jardim, Mina d’Agua), played with the same brilliance and panache that I recall hearing when Smith played them last May, though now in a fresh context.

An enthusiastic audience received an encore of the famous Albeniz Tango in D (though the only word of the announcement we could make out was “Falla” so we were quite surprised – a hazard of not using a microphone perhaps).

All in all, it was another success for Mr. Smith, and also for Eve de la O, who has been dedicated to this music series, Musica de Camara, for 31 years.

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by Rorianne Schrade  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Duo Sirocco in Review

Duo Sirocco in Review
Nathalie Houtman, recorders and xiao (chinese flute)
Raphaël Collignon, harpsichord
Pro Musicis 
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
February 16, 2011

 

Duo Sirocco

What a wonderful and informative evening!  More than just a concert of music for recorder and harpsichord, it was a virtuoso display by two masters of their instruments, combined with a most enlightening history lesson. Yet there was nothing pedantic about this evening’s presentation entitled “A Baroque Concert in the Chinese Emperor’s Palace.” From the opening “Air Chinois” to the closing sonata by Arcangelo Corelli, the concert flowed along so gracefully and pleasantly that it almost seemed to be choreographed.

Who knew that “the musician, missionary and priest Teodorico Pedrini (1671-1746) was sent to Beijing in 1701 by the Pope at the behest of the Emperor of China, who had expressed a wish to have a European artist in his service?” (The preceding was a quote from the fine program notes written by members of the Duo Sirocco and Dr. Richard E. Rodda.) Who knew that one of the first serious western studies of non-western music was written by the French Jesuit missionary Joseph-Marie Amiot (1781-1793) who arrived in Beijing in 1751?

The program, described in the notes as an attempt “to reproduce a concert that would have been given at the palace of Emperor Qian Long (1735-1794),” began with “Air Chinois,” Amiot’s transcription of a Chinese melody, plaintively performed on the Xiao (Chinese flute) by Nathalie Houtman. Ms. Houtman, who began playing from the rear of the hall, walked towards the stage down the right aisle. The non-western aspect of the unaccompanied melody was reinforced by an expressive upward-sighing-figure at the end of each phrase. Meanwhile, Mr. Collignon was quietly walking down the left aisle and then up onto the stage. With perfectly rehearsed timing, he sat down at the harpsichord and joined Ms. Houtman for the conclusion of the Amiot.

The “western-music” part of the concert began with the Sonata for Recorder and Harpsichord, Opus 3 No. 6 by the aforementioned Teodorico Pedrini. (We were to hear two more of these sonatas later in the program, all part of the composer’s Opus 3, his only surviving works.) Although these works are of minor musical merit, they were beautifully performed with an impeccable sense of ensemble and great ornamentation. As they were of great historical interest, I am very glad to have heard them in this context. More interesting musically was the next work, a sonata by the French composer and flute virtuoso Michel Blavet (1700-1768).

Although they were brilliantly performed, the works by Pedrini and Blavet paled next to the music of Jean-Philippe Rameau and Archangelo Corelli. For this listener, the musical high points of the concert were the three harpsichord works by Rameau. I marveled at the harmonic vocabulary of “La Dauphine” and was thrilled by the weird chord progression in “L’Enharmonique,” made even more expressive by Mr. Collignon’s subtle use of rubato. The repeated notes imitating the sound of chickens in “La Poule” were made even more interesting by the way Mr. Collignon varied the articulation. This was great technical skill in the service of great music.

It should be noted that none of the five works which appeared on the printed program as “Sonata for Recorder and Harpsichord” were originally written for these instruments. As stated in the program notes, the three Pedrine sonatas were written for violin and bassoon continuo (bass instrument and harpsichord improvising the stipulated chords), the Blavet for transverse flute and basso continuo, the Corelli for violin and basso continuo. In the baroque, the bass instrument which doubled the lowest note of the harpsichord was often omitted, and other treble instruments could perform the parts originally written for violin or flute. The virtuosic high point of the evening took place during Ms. Houtman’s performance of the Corelli violin sonata, the concert’s final work. What is idiomatic on a violin would seem to be almost impossible on the recorder. After I heard the fast arpeggio “string crossings” in the first movement, in my notes I wrote “Wow!” After the second movement I wrote “faster?”, and after the third I marveled “even faster!!”  What fleet fingers, what quick tonguing, what thrilling playing!

After a rousing round of applause, Mr. Collignon ambled onto the stage strumming a tiny Renaissance guitar. Mr. Houtman followed, and together they brought the concert to a delightful conclusion with a rollicking performance of an arrangement of the Tambourin from Rameau’s “Pièces de clavecin, 1731.”

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by Harry Saltzman  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Continuum in Review: Music at the Crossroads/Composers of Central Asia

Continuum in Review: Music at the Crossroads/Composers of Central Asia
Merkin Concert Hall; New York, NY
February 13, 2011

 

Continuum’s “Music at the Crossroads” concert featured composers of Central Asia, and the program successfully combined ancient traditions with modern ones. Continuum’s exploration of rarely-heard music is sometimes a result of its travels to remote parts of the globe. In this case, the ensemble has toured several times to Central Asia, most particularly to Uzbekistan, but also to Kazakhstan and Tajikistan. The strong musical traditions and the creativity of composers there obviously made an impact on the talented group of directors and performers that form Continuum.

The concert featured Dmitri Yanov-Yanovsky, who is from Uzbekistan. Yanov-Yanovsky has worked tirelessly on behalf of his country’s cultural life as professor of composition and founder/director of the Ilkhom Festival, an innovative annual international event. Highly regarded in Europe and the former Soviet Union, he recently spent two years at Harvard University on a special fellowship invitation and currently is teaching in the Chicago area.  Continuum programmed three of his works: “Chang-Music IV” (1991), a work for string quartet which emulates the Central Asian cimbalom; “A-S-C-H” (Hommage to Alfred Schnittke for ensemble – 2004); and “Five Limericks by Edward Lear” (2005) for mezzo-soprano and piano trio. Each work and every musician captivated the audience at hand. Another fascinating work from Uzbekistan, “Music for Chamber Ensemble” (2004) was composed by Yanov-Yanovsky’s former student Jakhongir Shukurov; this was a smart addition to the program.

Throughout the evening, the music hinted at its unique ethnicity, but also pointed to the region’s ancient music. The Kazakh composer Aktoty Raimkulova’s “Alatau”, for ensemble (2011), and written specifically for this concert, reflects her country’s folk music. The title refers to the majestic mountains hovering over her city, Almaty. Continuum brought the usual spark and polish to the performance. The country of Tajikistan, while currently desperately poor and underdeveloped after a long civil war, has a rich musical heritage. Central Asian influences were heard in the works of Tajikistan-born Farangis Nurulla-Khoja: “Blind Flower” for mezzo-soprano and ensemble (2008), and Benjamin Yusupov’s “Haqqoni,” both written for and premiered previously by Continuum. Nurulla-Khoja now lives in Montreal, and Yusupov immigrated to Israel during Tajikistan’s civil war. “Haqqoni” combines a live ensemble with vintage recordings of ritualistic chanting—plus singing from his family’s Bukharian tradition.

All the performers were excellent: Rachel Calloway, mezzo-soprano; Tanya Dusevic Witek, flute; Moran Katz, clarinet; Renée Jolles and Airi Yoshioka, violins; Eva Gerard, viola; Claire Bryant and Chris Gross on cello; Jared Soldiviero, percussion; Cheryl Seltzer, piano and Joel Sachs, conductor. Continuum has chosen just the right music and performers for a memorable—and thought-provoking occasion.

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

Park Avenue Chamber Symphony in Review: Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff

Park Avenue Chamber Symphony in Review: Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff
David Bernard, conductor
Karine Poghosyan, piano
Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1
Rachmaninoff Symphony No 2
February 13, 2011

David Bernard conducting the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony; photo credit Stefan Cohen

The generosity of spirit and affection that infuses the work of two of the most beloved Russian composers, Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, must be genuine and heartfelt in a good performance.  By this standard, the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony scored a triumph in their rendering of two of these composers’ most iconic works, in a recent concert at All Saints Church.  The Armenian pianist Karine Poghosyan joined the orchestra for the Tchaikovsky First Piano Concerto in what proved to be a warm and sympathetic collaboration. 

The venue for the concert worked both for and against the artists.  As churches go, All Saints is small and intimate, where a good deal of the audience practically sits right on top of the orchestra.  While this allows for a more visceral experience of the music, the acoustic can be simply overwhelming and indistinct in the loudest and most densely textured orchestration.  And what else could explain the choice of a baby grand piano for the concerto but a simple lack of available floor space?  In spite of these liabilities, there was still much to admire in the performance. 

Ms. Poghosyan is a relaxed and natural musician, very obviously at home in the Tchaikovsky.  Her technique is big and secure, with blazing octaves, clean articulation, and a beautifully weighted touch.  More importantly, her virtuosity was not a shallow display of party tricks, but a tool for musical expression. Although it was a disservice to hear her on such an inferior instrument, her strengths were not diminished.  

David Bernard, the Chamber Symphony’s Music Director, led both pieces from memory, with clarity and a sense of spontaneity, even in such well worn repertoire.  Despite occasional struggles with ensemble and intonation, the orchestra played with a strong sense of style and commitment.  Several soloists offered impressive playing, notably the principal cellist and oboist in the Tchaikovsky, and the clarinet and English horn in the Rachmaninoff.  Special mention must be made of the string ensemble in general, who, under the guidance of Mr. Bernard and their concertmaster, David Edelson, play with the depth and fervor of the old school European orchestras. 

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by David La Marche  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Dieter Flury, flute and Maria Prinz, piano in Review

Dieter Flury, flute
Maria Prinz, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
February 12, 2011

Dieter Flury and Maria Prinz; Photo Credit: Johannes Ifkovits

In this program, entitled “Viennese Classics for Flute and Piano,” Bulgarian pianist Maria Prinz and Swiss flutist Dieter Flury proved that you do not have to be born in Vienna to love its musical traditions. In her program notes, Ms. Prinz wrote that having lived and worked in the city of musical dreams for 25 years as “foreigners” has given them enough familiarity with, and enough distance from, the style to balance emotional involvement with objectivity.

 Mr. Flur, in addition to appearing with other leading orchestras, has been solo flutist of the Vienna Philharmonic since 1981; Ms. Prinz, besides enjoying a successful solo career, has taught at Vienna’s University of Music and Performing Arts since 1987. The high expectations raised by these credentials were not disappointed. Both players proved to be complete masters of their instruments; Mr. Flury played on a golden flute whose radiance was matched by its warm, round, shimmering tone; Ms. Prinz was an exemplary collaborator, leading and supporting with equal sensitivity and, with the piano on the small stick, never too loud. The only flaw in their performance was their penchant for exaggerated phrasing and overuse of dynamic contrast, as if they trusted neither the music nor their own expressive playing to speak directly to the audience.

The first hint of these tendencies came in the program’s opening work: Mozart’s Sonata in B-flat major, K. 378, originally for violin and piano. Every repeated figure turned into an echo, and in the first movement, Mr. Flury fell prey to the problem of dealing with the transition from the first to the second theme, making a huge ritardando where a slight hesitation would be more effective;. The Sonata works well on the flute, especially the bright Finale, and Mr. Flury also captured the expressive intensity of the passages in the darker register.

 The concert included two unfamiliar works by Beethoven: a set of Variations, Op. 107 No. 7, and a Sonata in B–flat major without opus number. The variations bear the unusual title “For piano with the accompaniment of a flute,” but in fact the instruments act as equal partners. The Theme is a melancholy Ukranian folksong that was also used by Hummel in his Trio for flute, cello and piano. Doubts have been raised about the authenticity of the Sonata, and, indeed, while some of its themes and their development could well belong to his early period, others seem to point to less distinguished authorship.

Haydn’s Sonata for flute and piano No. 8 in G major is a transcription of a transcription: its original source is Haydn’s String Quartet Op. 77, No. 1; Haydn himself arranged it for violin and piano, omitting the Minuet and Trio. In the flute version, Mr. Flury simply played the violin part, and, since the piece is sunny and high-spirited, the transformation was very successful.

The program closed with that popular staple of the flute repertoire, Schubert’s Introduction and Variations on his own song, “Trock’ne Blumen” from the cycle “Die schoene Muellerin,” D.802.  Written at a time late in his life when he was experimenting with combining intimate chamber music with technical fireworks, it demands a lot of virtuosity from both performers; it concludes with a jaunty March, but, being based on a slow, mournful song in a minor mode, its lyrical, singing element predominates. The highlight is a variation in major whose beauty and simplicity stop the heart. The two players’ deeply expressive performance left no doubt of their love for the music. Though they displayed plenty of brilliance when appropriate, even the bravura variations never became mere showpieces. In response to the sell-out audience’s enthusiasm, they played an encore: Mozart’s lovely C major Andante, announced by Mr. Flury as “Maria’s favorite.”

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

Festival Chamber Music in Review

 Festival Chamber Music in Review
 Ayako Oshima, clarinet
David Jolley, horn
Yuri Funahashi, piano
Calvin Wiersma, violin
Theodore Arm, violin/viola
Ruth Sommers, cello/director
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
February 2, 2011

 Festival Chamber Music is a rotating group of enterprising top-notch New York musicians. They like to take time out from their busy lives as performers and teachers to present new and unfamiliar works in a variety of instrumental combinations, as well as staples of the standard repertoire. Founded in 1988 by its director, cellist Ruth Sommers, in Dobbs Ferry, the group moved in 1992 to New York City, where it performs an annual series of five concerts to sell-out audiences.

Its most recent program was of particular interest. It featured Beethoven’s popular Piano Quartet, Op. 16 in E-flat major in an excellent performance, and works by two virtually unknown Czech composers: the Quintet for piano, violin, cello , clarinet and horn, Op. 42 by Zdenek Fibich (1850-1900), written in 1893, and the String Trio by Gideon Klein (l9l9-l045), one of the so-called Holocaust composers, written in 1944. Fibich, though born in Prague, did not follow in the footsteps of his compatriots Smetana and Dvorak, the fathers of the Czech nationalist movement; rather, his music–though never openly derivative–is steeped in the Romantic German tradition. In the Quintet, Fibich’s compositional skill shows in his modulations (which use a lot of deceptive cadences), and in his ability to exploit and combine the instruments’ colors and timbres to best effect. The first and last of the Quintet’s four movements are in sonata form; the Scherzo, marked “with wild humor,” foreshadows Shostakovich in its acerbic sarcasm, but this is relieved by two cheerful Trios, a waltz and a polka. A solo piano passage leads back to the da capos. The Quintet’s centerpiece is the slow movement, a truly beautiful, long-breathing melody, stated first by the piano in solid and arpeggiated chords, then repeated with a florid violin obbligato. The work’s most pervasive characteristics are its democratic distribution of the solos, its unabashed romanticism, and its surging, soaring melodies; but the heart-on-sleeve quality of the music is so genuine that sentiment never lapses into sentimentality.

Gideon Klein already had several compositions to his credit when he was sent to Terezin in 1941. At 20, he must have been one of the youngest of the composers who perished in the Nazi death-camps, and, if this String Trio is any indication, also one of the most talented. A brilliant pianist, his ability to use the string instruments’ resources was remarkable. Though naturally still under the influence of contemporary stylistic trends, the Trio displays a personal voice and an astoundingly mature emotional range. Its three movements are all based on Moravian folksongs. The first and last are fast, skittish, jumpy, abrasive, and dissonant, often punctuated with Slavic and Hungarian off-beat rhythms; the last one ends in a Bartokian dance and a crash. The Trio’s core is the much longer, slow, middle movement: a set of variations of contrasting tempos, textures and characters that encompass defiance, grief and despair, leaving the listener shaken and heart-broken. Klein became one of Terezin’s heroes, organizing its musical and cultural activities. The Trio was written nine days before Klein’s deportation to Auschwitz; he died there a year later.

Heard at two rehearsals, the playing of this demanding program was excellent. Pianist Funahashi alternated imperceptibly between leading and supporting, always sensitive, never too loud; hornist Jolley and clarinetist Oshima were outstanding in their prominent roles. The Quintet had an almost orchestral sonority at times. The string players negotiated their often stratospheric parts with aplomb; cellist Sommers provided a firm foundation, violinist Wiersma was a strong leader in the Beethoven and Klein; Arm, doubling on violin and viola, had the courage to play the bigger instrument first, but kept his intonation intact – no mean feat.

These fine, adventuresome musicians deserve our admiration and gratitude for bringing these unjustly neglected works to our attention in such committed, persuasive performances.

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

The Mirror Visions Ensemble in Review

The Mirror Visions Ensemble in Review
Works by Russell Platt and Tom Cipullo
Bargemusic
January 29, 2011

Mirror Visions Ensemble

It is a good idea to arrive at concerts early, not only so that one can have time to read the program notes, but also in order to make the transition from the hectic life of the city, to place a “cordon sanitaire” around the event being attended. This is especially important when attending events at Lincoln Center or at the Carnegie Halls, as one needs to decompress after a ride on the NY Subway. My favorite pre-concert “cordon sanitaire” begins just after exiting the subway at the York Street Station of the F train. One then walks Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass through DUMBO. There are fleeting views of the Manhattan Bridge on the right and soon parts of the Brooklyn Bridge come into view. After a right turn down Old Fulton Street, one soon arrives at the East River. Ahead is the Manhattan skyline, to the right the span of the Brooklyn Bridge, and to the left, moored to the Brooklyn shore, is home of Bargemusic. Floating in the East River, this one of our city’s most unusual and pleasant chamber music venues.

Founded in 1992 The Mirror Visions Ensemble (Tobé Malawitsa, Artistic Director) has commissioned more than seventy vocal chamber music works. Given the magnificent performances we heard tonight from soprano Vira Slywotzky, tenor Scott Murphree, baritone Jesse Blumberg and pianist Alan Darling, contemporary composers are very fortunate to have such skilled and dedicated performers championing their music. Tonight’s concert featured two of The Mirror Visions Ensemble’s commissions.

The first half was devoted to Russell Platt’s “From Noon to Starry Night: A Walt Whitman Cantata.” This setting of ten Whitman poems was written in a spiky but not painfully dissonant harmonic style, often leavened by major triad final chords. It began with two trios which were sung with perfect intonation and rhythmic clarity. The first was fairly tonal, but spiced by added “wrong notes” in some of the chords, while the second was a waltz. Each of the following solo movements was performed with attention to the meaning of the words and with impeccable diction. I found the consonant opening of the fifth movement, “I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing,” quite beautiful.

After intermission we heard Tom Cipullo’s “A Visit with Emily,” settings of letters and poetry of Emily Dickenson and letters of T.W. Higginson. As did Mr. Platt, Mr. Cipullo spoke about his work before it was performed. I usually dislike these pre-performance-spoken- program-notes, but Mr. Cipullo’s were most informative, quite funny, and very well delivered. Most interesting was the statement that his settings were not meant to augment or to clarify the meaning of the poems, but to express his reaction to them. Mr. Cipullo’s music has none of the retro-consonant elements employed by Mr. Platt, and it never wavers from an astringent harmonic language. If there was a “retro” aspect to his music, it was his skillful use of use of earlier musical devices, an aspect of this work I enjoyed very much. Movements three (sung by Mr. Blumberg,) four (sung by Mr. Murphree,) and five (sung by Ms. Slywotzky) were based on poems which had to do with fame. Movement six combined the melodies of these three songs, a devise called a quodlibet.  It was brilliantly performed by the three soloists and pianist Alan Darling. In later movements we heard a catch, a chaconne, a passacaglia and another quodlibet.

And after hearing fine performances of skillful settings of great poetry in a unique venue, I could reenter reality by retracing my steps under those two great bridges mentioned in paragraph one. Only in New York!

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by Harry Saltzman  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Concert for Peace – Celebrating the Spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr. (DCINY)

Concert for Peace – Celebrating the Spirit of Martin Luther King, Jr.
Distinguished Concerts International New York in Review (DCINY)
Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
January 17, 2011

Distinguished Concerts International New York, or DCINY, as the group calls itself, rounds up choruses from around the world, brings them to New York and presents them in concerts mostly composed of recently written but highly accessible music.  The concert on January 17 was dedicated entirely to the music of DCNY’s composer-in-residence, Karl Jenkins. Originally from Wales, Mr. Jenkins is, according to his website, the most frequently performed living composer in the world. His style is tonal and presents a fusion of classical, ethnic, and popular music.  The music often sounds like the best of movie music; indeed Mr. Jenkins has achieved great success as a composer of both television commercials and film scores. Although his music is sometimes too repetitious for my taste, it is often rousing and at times quite beautiful.

The two works presented on this concert were Mr. Jenkins’ “Gloria” and “Stabat Mater.”  The first piece was a U.S. premiere.  The major part of its text was taken from the Gloria of the Latin Mass.  Interspersed were readings from other religions: the Bhagavad Gita, (Hindu), the Diamond Sutra, (Buddhism), the Tao Te Ching (Taoism), and the Qur’an (Islam). The choruses were the Kings Chorale from Canada, the Laramie County Community College Choir from Wyoming, the Methodist College Chapel Choir from Ireland, the Ottawa University Concert Choir, and the Sno-King Community Chorale from Washington.  Charlotte Daw Paulsen was the mezzo-soprano soloist and DCNY’s Artistic Director, Jonathan Griffith conducted. The orchestra was drawn from local players. The choruses sang with assurance and beauty of tone, although from where I was sitting they were at times not as loud as might have been wished. Ms. Paulsen has a lovely voice but was similarly under-powered.  The exemplary conducting of Jonathan Griffith cannot be faulted.

The second half of the program, almost twice as long as the first half, was a performance of Mr. Jenkins’ “Stabat Mater,” written in 2008.  This work employs ancient instruments and modes from the Middle East alongside the standard Western harmonies and instrumentation. As he did in the first half’s “Gloria,” Mr. Jenkins interpolated six movements in other languages which strikingly contrasted with the Latin of the standard “Stabat Mater” text. One of these movements, “And the Mother did weep” was, for me, the high point of the concert. This lovely, haunting piece for chorus and orchestra was full of surprising and enchanting twists and turns of melody and harmony. I hope I have the chance to hear it again. In other interpolated movements, there is also a part for “ethnic vocals,” performed by Belinda Sykes, who also played the Mey, a Middle Eastern double reed instrument. The choruses for the second half of the program were the Kirk Choir of Pasadena Presbyterian Church, from California, the Mendelssohn Choir of Connecticut, the Fairfield University Chamber Singers, the Saddleworth Musical Society from England, the Sine Nomine Singers of North Carolina, the University of Johannesburg Choir from South Africa, and the West Windsor-Plainsboro High School South Chorus from New Jersey.  These groups, all well-prepared, were capable of more power than the forces on the first half, although their intonation wavered a bit during the a cappella “Fac ut portem Christi mortem.”  The concert ended with a grand climax, as the choruses from the first half joined in from the balcony. The audience leapt to its feet and there was thunderous applause.

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by Barrett Cobb  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Hlif Sigurjonsdottir, Violinist in Review

 Hlif Sigurjonsdottir, Violinist in Review
Merkin Concert Hall, New York NY
January 15, 2011

Hlíf Sigurjóns

Violinist Hlif Sigurjonsdottir was born in Copenhagen and grew up in Iceland, where she began her musical studies at an early age. Going on to work with many eminent musicians in Europe, Canada and the United States, she credits her first teacher, Bjorn Olafsson, concertmaster of the Iceland Symphony Orchestra, and her last teacher, Gerald Beale of New York, with inspiring her to make a specialty of Bach’s solo sonatas and partitas, and with leaving a strong mark on her approach to them. At this concert, she performed the Sonatas No. 2 and 3 and the Partita No. 1, completing the cycle begun earlier in New York. She has also released a double CD of all six works.

Ms. Sigurjonsdottir’s Bach was a mixture of many styles, part baroque, part contemporary, part oriented to violinistic comfort and effect. Playing on a modern violin by Christophe Landon and with bows by Landon and Isaac Salchow, she produced a very small tone that never varied in color or intensity and only rarely in volume. Her intonation was excellent except in the high positions; her bowing technique was light and flexible, but she broke all chords upward, regardless of where the melody lay. She made no attempt to use the four strings of the violin to bring out Bach’s voice-leading, changing strings and positions for greatest technical convenience rather than contrapuntal clarity. Perhaps the performance’s most serious shortcoming was a lack of variety; there was hardly any difference of character or expression among these three very diverse works or their highly contrasting movements.

Today, the practice of performing from memory is ubiquitous, but, from a music-historical viewpoint, it is comparatively recent. (Toscanini, whose vision was very poor, introduced it to conducting with the dictum “Better to have the score in your head than your head in the score.”) Many soloists claim that not looking at the music is liberating, but it can also have the opposite effect. (Clifford Curzon, the great English pianist, decided to use the score for the Mozart concertos when he realized that many passages were so similar that he sometimes found himself playing the wrong one.) Bach’s works for solo violin are treacherous to memorize, and Ms. Sigurjonsdottir was ill-advised to attempt it. She got lost in the First Partita, but adroitly covered it up by going back to the beginning of the movement; finally, though, she had to have a stand and the music brought to the stage. In the formidable Fugue of the Third Sonata, however, her memory slip caused chaos: two stands were required to accommodate the music, which consisted of many single sheets so mixed up that a volunteer had to come to the stage from the audience to help put them in order and stay to act as page-turner. This added a charming touch of informality to the concert, but disrupted the Sonata. However, the rest of the performance was so much more confident and secure that one wished Ms. Sigurjonsdottir had used the score from the beginning.

The program included the premiere of the Prelude from a five-movement sonata written for her by Merrill Clark, entitled “The Sorceress.” A lively, propulsive piece, it is based on a repetitive figure of a major second using a drone-like open string.  The composer was present to share the applause.

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

Live from Lincoln Center/New York Philharmonic in Review

Live from Lincoln Center/New York Philharmonic in Review
Alan Gilbert, conductor
Lang Lang, piano
New Year’s Eve Concert; December 31, 2010
Avery Fisher Hall, telecast on PBS

Lang Lang - Photo Credit: Detlef Schneider

Perhaps as a contribution to the ongoing diplomatic efforts at improving American-Russian relations, the New York Philharmonic’s Music Director Alan Gilbert chose an all-Tchaikovsky program for the Orchestra’s traditional New Year’s Eve concert. It featured a selection from three major genres of the composer’s work: the Polonaise from the opera “Eugene Onegin,” the second act of the ballet “The Nutcracker,” and the first Piano Concerto, with the brilliant, young Chinese pianist Lang Lang as soloist.

Seen on television, it was a wonderfully varied, exciting concert, a bonanza of beguiling melodies, exhilarating dances, exuberant orchestra playing, and superlative pianism. The musicians threw themselves into these repertory favorites with a freshness undimmed by familiarity. The Polonaise had a zestful swing; the “Nutcracker” dances were fascinating for their idiomatic, rhythmic and instrumental diversity. “Nutcracker,” the ballet, had been a ubiquitous presence throughout the Holidays, performed not only–as usual–at the State Theatre by the City Ballet, but also at the Brooklyn Academy by Ballet Theatre. Still, hearing that delightful music played by a great orchestra in full view on a concert stage instead of from a pit was grand.

The Tchaikovsky Concerto is one of Lang Lang’s signature pieces; he first performed it as a boy of 13. He himself feels that his interpretation has deepened his ability to listen to and interact with the orchestra grown more acute and spontaneous. At this performance, he certainly maintained a strong contact with the conductor and the orchestral soloists by looks, gestures, and, less visibly but no less perceptibly, by projecting and telegraphing his musical intentions. Indeed, his immersion in the music was so complete that one got the feeling he became one with it, letting it flow from his head and his heart to his fingertips. The most amazing aspect of his playing is not that he can generate incredible speeds without losing clarity, and huge volumes of sound without losing quality, but that all his excesses – physical, rhythmical, and emotional – are never a showman’s indulgences, but an expression of a genuine, spontaneous response to the music. True, his tempo changes are perhaps too frequent and too drastic, but he makes them sound totally natural. Of course, his liberties demand extraordinary cooperation and sensitivity from conductors and orchestras, but the musicians of the Philharmonic were right with him in fact and spirit. From her seat behind him, concertmistress Sheryl Staples watched him with obvious admiration, her face lighting up with a smile at every felicitous turn of phrase or change of expression. At the end, the ovations went on and on.

Lincoln Center’s live telecasts are its best gift to New Yorkers, especially since it’s housebound and infirm, and the Philharmonic broadcasts offer an extra bonus: the opportunity, denied regular concert goers, to get a frontal view of the conductor. Watching Alan Gilbert in action is a delight: swaying with the rhythm, his face wreathed in smiles, his enjoyment of the music and the gorgeous sounds produced by his players sheds a warm glow over both sides of the footlights. 

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