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“Amahl and the Night Visitors” :In Review

The Transfiguration Camerata and Choir of Men and Boys

“Amahl and the Night Visitors” and other selections

An Arnold Schwartz Memorial Concert

The Church of the Transfiguration (“The Little Church Around the Corner”)

December 17, 2010

Colin DePaula as Amahl . Photo Credit: Juliet DePaula

Although “Amahl and the Night Visitors” was a highlight of the evening, there were other welcome selections that began the Transfiguration Camerata and Choir of Men and Boys concert on December 17^th. Three pieces from Britten’s “Ceremony of Carols” began the program with good vocal diction and excellent harp playing by Francis Duffy. Faure’s beautiful “Cantique de Jean Racine” continued with some lovely solo singing, and “Il le ne le divin enfant”, expertly arranged by Victor Kioulaphides, contained more fine solo contributions—but now with the best choral singing of the evening, as it was tailored perfectly for the boys’ range. The few choral problems in the Britten and Faure were a result of the music going a bit too high for the boys at hand; their intonation was sometimes off the mark, and their collective singing often lacked expression and color at the top.

In “Amahl and the Night Visitors”, the young Colin DePaula as Amahl was superb and charismatic from start to finish. His voice is pure-pitched and very expressive, and he was always in character. He’s a real find and a talent to watch. Aside from a false start to the opera—it had to begin again after the singers missed their entrance—this was an enjoyable “Amahl”. For one, the small orchestral ensemble was excellent, well-assembled by conductor/pianist Claudia Dumschat. They were always in tune, even in the long last chord which features the strenuous, often inaccurate low range of the oboe. The three kings sang with refined pitch and vocal quality in their harmonizations, and Charlotte Detrick played the part of the mother quite well. Some of the choral singing was tentative, especially when it was a cappella, and some of the kids didn’t always know the lyrics.

This archaic, venerable church is a treasure. In terms of a performance space, upstage center singing in “Amahl” lacked the resonance you might expect. In addition, the visual experience was sometimes frustrating (especially with regards to Lynn Neuman’s attractive choreography on house right) because of columns and the absence of performer platforms or elevated audience seating—although director Richard Olson did make inventive use of the aisles and the back of the audience. In any case, the full-house in attendance seemed to enjoy each work on the program; although they were captivated by it all, the most memorable of the night was Amahl—and by that I mean Colin DePaula in the title role.

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

The Park Avenue Chamber Symphony in Review

“Baroque Celebration”: Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” and Gloria

David Bernard, Music Director and Conductor

David Chan, Violin

Florilegium Chamber Choir; Nicholas DeMaison, Director

All Saints Church, New York, NY

December 12, 2010

David Bernard leading the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony from the harpsichord continuo in Vivaldi’s Four Seasons with soloist David Chan, Concertmaster of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. Photo Credit: Claire Stefani

In an all-Vivaldi concert, the Park Avenue Chamber Symphony got in the holiday spirit with the composer’s Gloria in D, RV 589 and his eternally famous “Four Seasons”. The orchestra’s violin soloist was Metropolitan Opera Concertmaster David Chan, who inspired a riveting and stellar performance on all fronts. Music Director David Bernard, who led the performance while playing the harpsichord, did an excellent job of maintaining solid ensemble-playing and consistently driven tempos in what was a crisply articulate, high-energy account. To top it off, there was a brief poetry reading prior to each season, read with poise and clarity by All Saints Church Music Director Cynthia Weinrich; this was a great idea. Chan played at the highest level possible—with both sweet-toned polish and gutsy intensity—bringing a romantic air of expression to the piece, as one should when there is such detailed, innovative tone-painting (musical descriptions) in the music.

Because “The Seasons” was given such a memorable performance, it could easily have been on the second half of the program. And all four seasons (four concertos with several movements each) are in fact longer and more epic in stature than this Gloria. Naturally, one can understand why Bernard chose the Gloria to conclude the concert; choral works with numerous performers—a visual as well as an aural delight—usually do provide for an emotionally or spiritually satisfying conclusion. But since the superior Vivaldi opus and performance was “The Seasons”—I would have preferred the save-the-best-for-last approach and conclude with that work instead.

Bernard conducted the Gloria from memory and with an astute ear for phrasing and color. My peeves were the sometimes less-than-polished solo singing—although soprano Nina Riley sang beautifully—some out of tune trumpet playing, and the fact that The Florilegium Chamber Choir was sometimes tentative and difficult to hear (especially in lower registers). When I could hear them, however, diction was clear and the phrasing was elegant. Principal cellist John Yakubik’s solo playing was also appealing.

Another reason I can see why the Gloria was indeed placed on the second half was because it led nicely to a Holiday Sing Along, in which Bernard placed the chorus antiphonally on both sides of the church. Here, the voices came through loud and clear—although it didn’t hurt that the large audience at hand lent their voices to what was a robust reading of several Christmas Carols. It is a credit to David Bernard that he has such enthusiastic followers in his audience. Usually you can hear it in applause, but this time it was through the music itself.

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

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.

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

Victoria Mushkatkol in Review

Victoria Mushkatkol, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

December 2, 2010

Presented by the Vladimir Nielsen Foundation.

Victoria Mushkaktol

Born and trained in Russia, pianist Victoria Mushkatkol graduated with highest honors from St. Petersburg Conservatory, where she was a protégé of the eminent teacher Vladimir Nielsen; now living in New York, she honored him by founding a piano festival in his name at Sag Harbor in 2007. She is enjoying an international career as soloist, chamber musician and teacher, and is currently on the faculty of the Juilliard School’s Pre-College Division.

Victoria Mushkatkol is a splendid pianist. Her command of the keyboard is complete; her technique is so relaxed and effortless that it is a pleasure to watch her in action. Perhaps the most immediately striking aspect of her playing is her tone: rich, warm and singing, with a perfectly smooth legato, it has a large palette of colors and nuances and a wide range of dynamics. Indeed, it seemed amazing that a person of her delicate stature could produce such a powerful, sonorous sound. Her stage presence is natural and unaffected; she projects total concentration and emotional identification with the music.

In this season commemorating several composers’ anniversaries, she celebrated Chopin before intermission (returning to him for her encore), and Liszt afterwards. Her strong affinity for romantic music was immediately clear. Her Chopin was free and flexible, but the tempo changes were balanced, the transitions poised. The A-flat major Ballade Op. 47 was full of dreamy poetry and passionate ardor; the Barcarolle Op. 60 rocked and lilted. In the B minor Sonata Op. 58, she brought out the character of each movement, carefully building up the dynamic and dramatic climaxes.

The second half of the program began with Schubert’s B-flat major Impromptu, Op. 142, No. 3, a set of variations on the “Rosamunde” theme that he loved to recycle. It is a study in tonal, textural and expressive contrasts whose mood and character changes Ms. Mushkatkol captured very effectively; her rhythmic liberties, though, seemed to hark back to Chopin’s style.

Schubert’s practice of writing variations on his own songs may have inspired Liszt to use them as launching-pads for the brilliant paraphrases favored by the piano virtuosos of his day. Ms. Mushkatkol selected four of these: “Aufenthalt,” “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” “Du bist die Ruh’,” and “Erlköng.” Based on some of Schubert’s most popular songs, they demonstrate Liszt’s skill in weaving the vocal line into the accompaniment. Naturally, this demands great technical and tonal control on the part of the pianist; for example, in “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” the sound of the spinning-wheel’s repetitious whirring must be maintained through all the verses; in “Erlkönig,” where even Schubert’s original piano part with its repeated octaves and chords is a test of endurance, Liszt created a tour-de-force that seems to require more than two hands and ten fingers.

Liszt’s “Rhapsodie Espagnole” with its brilliant writing and idiomatic Spanish rhythms made a rousing finish and elicited an ovation.

The audience included many children of various ages and nationalities, whose rapt attention marked them as budding pianists; from their floral tributes and warm hugs it was natural to surmise that they were paying homage to a beloved teacher.

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

Seunghee Lee in Review

Seunghee Lee, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, N.Y.

December 1, 2010

Many pianists enjoy describing their programs and repertoires as “eclectic” lately, and, though the word is a bit overused, a recent recital program by pianist Seunghee Lee deserves that description. In a highly interesting mix of Heitor Villa-Lobos, Robert Muczynski, Francis Poulenc, Frédéric Chopin, Edvard Grieg, and Enrique Granados, Ms. Lee’s recital had something for almost everyone (though perhaps not for those hoping for a heaping helping of the “three B’s” – Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms). What I found particularly interesting was that this pianist seemed to have an equal affinity for each composer in this unusual assemblage. Ms. Lee, who has studied and performed widely and is currently a doctoral candidate at the University of Kentucky, has widely ranging interests and the ability to share them — a valuable combination.

Starting off with Bachianas Brasileiras No. 4 (“Preludio”) by Villa-Lobos, Ms. Lee established a thoughtful tone. Though, as mentioned before, this recital offered none of the “three B’s,” the presence of the first “B” – Bach – was definitely felt here. Ms. Lee demonstrated beautiful tonal control from its rather stately opening. Occasionally high registers sounded a bit strident, perhaps from want of bass support via more pedal (as Ms. Lee was quite sparing in her use of pedal through much of the evening), but all in all it was a successful opening.

In a change of style, time, and continent, the program then moved to a work by U.S. composer Robert Muczynski (1929-2010) entitled “Desperate Measures” (Paganini Variations) Op. 48. Based on the famous 24^th Caprice of Paganini (the one which inspired Liszt, Brahms, Rachmaninoff, and others), this roughly eight-minute set (written in 1995) shows at times a striking kinship with the Paganini Variations of Witold Lutoslawski (for two pianos, written in 1941), though Muczynski’s work breaks out in far more jazzy directions. Ms. Lee brought out its brilliance, rhythmic energy, and at times, lyricism, though emphasizing the acerbic dissonant qualities more than I’ve heard or would like.

Chopin’s Ballade No. 3 in A-flat Major, Op. 47, followed with a refreshingly gentle opening, though it was overall the least successful work on the program. Little raggedy edges are conspicuous in such an unforgiving piece as this, and there were passages that seemed glossed over, where loud peaks were reached from thin beginnings with no tonal middle ground in between. Also, some inner voices that most Chopin fans know and love were boldly announced at their beginnings, but not followed through to their natural conclusions.

In Poulenc’s Trois Pièces, Ms. Lee seemed much more in her element, reveling in the dreamy, brooding Pastorale, the bold Hymne, and the light and precise Toccata. Her palette of colors was just right for these works. I couldn’t help thinking it would be interesting to hear her play Ravel’s Toccata (or perhaps Scarbo), and a number of works of Debussy.

Shifting after intermission to Grieg, Ms. Lee played the “Rotnams-Knut, Halling” (No. 7 from Peasant Dances, Op. 72), the Scherzo-Impromptu No. 2 from Stimmungen, Op. 73, and the Ballade, Op. 24. These works enjoyed a loving advocacy in this pianist’s hands. The Ballade (despite accuracy issues towards the craggy end) had many fine moments, prospering by Ms. Lee’s patient lyricism through its doleful and funereal sections.

The Allegro de Concierto, Op. 46, by Granados ended the evening on a positive note, concluding what was a rewarding evening of music. An appreciative audience received an encore that sounded somewhat like a new age improvisation on a hymn, though (as sometimes happens) it was impossible to hear the announcement.

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

Orchestra of St. Luke’s in Review

Christian Tetzlaff, Violinist and Leader

Carnegie Hall; New York, NY

October 28, 2010

Christian Tetzlaff

Christian Tetzlaff is a brilliant violinist with a scholarly mind and a passionate heart. His repertoire ranges from the baroque to the present, and he is equally at home in recitals, concertos and chamber music. In this concert, he demonstrated yet another facet of his versatility: as leader of an orchestra, both as concertmaster and soloist.

In the latter capacity, he presented Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major K.216 (1775), and the Carnegie Hall premiere of Sibelius’ Suite for Violin and Strings, Op. 11 (1929). Standing in the middle of the orchestra facing the audience and playing from the score (which he certainly did not need), he did not really conduct, for, to these infinitely adaptable, protean players, following him seemed second nature. In the Mozart, he joined the first violins in the tuttis; playing with his usual clarity, charm, and expressiveness, his tone was pristinely beautiful throughout. He reserved his virtuosity for his own cadenzas, though his facility tempted him to adopt record-breaking tempos. The three Sibelius pieces are pleasant miniatures with bucolic titles: “Country Scenery,” “Evening in Spring,” and “In the Summer.” The first two are calm and pastoral, but the third is a Perpetuum mobile, played here at a speed beyond human ears. (Why should the summer be in such a hurry?) The only cavil about Tetzlaff’s performances was visual, not musical: his playing is so natural and effortless that it is a pleasure to watch, but his knee-bends, dips and gyrations are enough to induce sea-sickness.

For the rest of the program, he sat in the first chair, which limited his mobility somewhat but not entirely, and since the members of this orchestra also like to indulge in a good deal of physical activity, the stage looked like a sea of swaying bodies.

Schoenberg’s “Verklärte Nacht” Op. 4, written for string sextet in 1899 and orchestrated in 1943, was inspired by a poem by Richard Dehmel. It depicts a man and a woman walking through a moonlit forest, her anguished confession that, yearning for motherhood, she conceived another’s child before she met him, and his understanding, reassuring response. Schoenberg captured the glittering moonlight, the dark, despairing beginning and the radiant, hopeful end, as well as the intense, fraught human emotions, with shimmering, surging, super-romantic music. Its lush sonorities are well served by the orchestral version, but its contrapuntal complexity is clearer in the sextet. Moreover, in the chamber version all parts are equal, while the orchestra’s violas and cellos have to be split in half, tilting the balance in favor of the violins, which are naturally divided into two sections.

Tetzlaff led a luxurious-sounding, emotionally concentrated performance, keeping things together with some big gestures and a bit of discreet time-beating. Haydn’s Symphony No. 80 in D minor(1784) was distinguished by the expressiveness of the Adagio, the grace of the Menuetto, and the hectic tempo of the Finale, which brought the house down.

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

Mahler #5 Symphonies 1&4 in Review

Mariinsky Orchestra, Valery Gergiev, cond.

Carnegie Hall; New York, NY

October 24, 2010

Valery Gergiev

[Mahler was an inveterate reviser; he subjected many of his works to years of sporadic major and minor emendations, sometimes beyond their premieres. The First and Fourth symphonies are extreme examples of this obsessive self-criticism; he kept revising the First from 1884 to 1906 and the Fourth from 1892 to 1910.]

One of the most astounding aspects of Gergiev’s Mahler series was that all five concerts took place within a single week, during which the Orchestra also performed the Eighth Symphony in Washington, and Gergiev conducted “Boris Godunov” at the Metropolitan Opera. It was an extraordinary tour-de-force, a feat of physical, mental and emotional endurance that would cause battle-fatigue in the hardiest, most indefatigable musicians. But not until the last concert did they exhibit any kind of strain; their concentration seemed to flag, the horns clammed, intonation and ensemble precision were shakier than before. Toward the end, they rallied, marshaling their energy for the final push.

Having begun his Mahler series with the thorny, dark Symphony No.6, Gergiev concluded this installment with two of the brightest, most accessible ones: No.1 and No.4.

Mahler wrote his Sixth Symphony in 1903 and 1904, as usual in the summer. He had married his beloved Alma a year earlier; their first child had just been born and they were expecting another. It seems paradoxical that he composed the symphony he himself called the “Tragic” during that singularly happy time; some scholars have suggested that this was precisely what gave him the strength and courage to look into the darkness of the abyss. The sunny, cheerful Fourth Symphony with its sleigh-bells and its childlike, innocent description of heaven, on the other hand, was written during the early years of his musically and politically embattled Directorship of the Vienna Opera.

Among Mahler’s symphonies, the Fourth, begun in 1899, is unique in its comparative sunny brightness and cheerful spirit. This is already indicated in the movements’ tempo markings, which range from “comfortable” to “tranquil” and warn against haste and hurry. The orchestration, too, is lighter than usual, omitting low brass and percussion in favor of glockenspiel and sleigh-bells. But it is still haunted by and sarcasm and eerie thoughts of death: the third movement is a spooky waltz called “Death plays for the dance,” a violin solo to be played on an instrument tuned a whole-tone higher to produce a strident, grating sound. (The concertmaster uses a second violin already re-tuned.) Leading into the from. The long slow Variation movement climaxes in a sudden burst of ecstasy that subsides to bring in the Finale: a setting of his early “Magic Horn” song “The Heavenly Life”, for soprano. Mahler originally planned to use it in the Third Symphony, but then felt it fitted better into the Fourth. It depicts a child’s vision of Heaven and is a companion-piece to the song “The Earthly Life.” Both are meditations on food: the “Earthly Life” describes a child starving for want of bread, the “Heavenly Life” describes a plethora of meat, vegetables, fruits, breads, and their preparation by saints and angels. Finally, it becomes a paean to celestial music and ends in blissful serenity.

Soprano Anastasia Kalagina in her third appearance on the series avoided the twin dangers, which Mahler himself warned against, of sounding either childlike or condescending, and sang with natural warmth and delicacy. The only cavils were that the violin solo sounded too civilized, not raucous or menacing enough for a “Dance of Death,” and that the strings “milked” the sentimental Viennese slides too gleefully.

The First Symphony, begun in 1884-1888, expresses Mahler’s profound love of nature. (It originally had a fifth movement which Mahler later suppressed and which is heard today occasionally as a separate piece. The title “Blumine” is derived from the word “Blume” – flower.) It begins with a soft tone in the highest register, heard as if from a distance – Mahler says “Like a sound of nature.” Comparatively straight-forward structurally, it is not yet subject to as many eruptions of wrenching agony and fits of fury as the later symphonies, though perceptive listeners can already detect the seeds of those characteristics. It includes no voices, but is full of allusions to vocal music: two of Mahler’s own “Songs of a Wayfarer” and “Frere Jaques,” (known to German-speaking children as “Brother Martin”) in the minor mode. First stated as a mournful double-bass solo, it is developed into a slow, solemn, lugubrious canon that winds through the whole orchestra, then turns into a grotesquely distorted dance, complete with sliding strings and shrilling woodwinds. It is significant that, in addition to the title “Titan,” Mahler initially provided an elaborate descriptive program for each movement, and discarded it (as he later also did with the Third Symphony) when he felt that audiences no longer needed a roadmap through them.

New York audiences owe Gergiev and the Mariinsky Orchestra a great debt of gratitude for this concentrated immersion in Mahler’s symphonies, and look forward avidly to the cycle’s completion in February.

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

Orion String Quartet in Review

Mannes College of Music; New York, NY

October 22, 2010

November 11, 2010

Orion String Quartet

The Orion String Quartet (Daniel and Todd Phillips, alternating violins, Steven Tenenbom, viola, Timothy Eddy, cello), opened its annual concert series at the Mannes College of Music, where it is in residence, with a performance of “The Art of the Fugue,” Bach’s monumental final work. He wrote it in 1750 during the last days of his life, leaving the last fugue unfinished, as a kind of summing up of his exploration of counterpoint. He gave no instructions for the work’s execution, so it is up to the players to determine the most appropriate instruments for its realization. As a result, it has inspired arrangements for combinations ranging from small chamber groups to full orchestra. The Orion Quartet chose the transcription for four strings and five winds by the late great flutist, Samuel Baron, and enlisted the renowned woodwind quintet Windscape (Tara Helen O’Connor, flute, Randall Ellist, oboe, Alan R. Kay, clarinet, Frank Morelli, bassoon, David Jolley, horn) as partners.

The concert was extremely interesting. Baron used the instruments with great inventiveness, sometimes alternating strings and winds, sometimes mixing them in various combinations, sometimes merging both groups in their entirety. Such an imaginative transcription harbors the danger of focusing the listener’s interest on the instrumental timbres rather than the musical content, as if the subject of a painting had been submerged in its brilliant colors. Baron averted this hazard: though making the most of the instruments’ timbral variety, his settings underline and enhance the counterpoint and bring out the character of each section. The only somewhat incongruous, indeed jarring sound was that of the clarinet, which Bach could not even have imagined.

The performance was most excellent. Dynamics were carefully planned, calibrated for contrast, build-up, clarity and balance; the phrasing was exemplary, the playing expressive, austere, and pristinely beautiful. Naturally, each group was perfectly unified in itself, but when they intermingled or combined, they also sounded totally integrated.

For its second concert, the Orion reverted to its usual configuration as a string quartet for a program as deeply rooted in romanticism as the first had been in classical baroque: Schumann’s Quartet No. 1 in A minor, Op. 41 No. 1 (1842), and Schubert’s final Quartet No. 15 in G major, Op. 161 (1826).

Schumann’s Quartet finds him in his “Eusebius” mode. The first movement is lyrical, calm and serene, with long flowing melodies and friendly give-and-take between the instruments. The Scherzo (like most Scherzos written at that time), shows the influence of that supreme master of the genre, Mendelssohn, but it is more robust, less elfin than his. It also departs from its model by featuring two contrasting Trios. Schumann the “Lieder” composer takes over the slow movement, as one instrument spins out a sustained melody while the others weave garlands around it. The Finale is a brilliant run-around with the instruments chasing one another in cascading scale-passages.

The Schubert is not only one of the greatest, but also one of the longest, physically and emotionally most exhausting Quartets in the literature. The Orion added to its “heavenly length” by taking all the repeats – a feat of courage and endurance. The music encompasses the heights and depths of human emotion, but has about it an underlying air of resignation and farewell. In the first movement, drama and lyricism alternate; the questioning, searching second theme is developed with endlessly inventive rhythmic variety, accompanied by wildly leaping tremolos, a basically orchestral, strenuous bowing device that can make one’s right arm ache just to watch. The slow movement is one of Schubert’s most moving compositions. Its beautiful, melancholy minor-mode theme is interrupted by a wrenching outburst of passionate despair; the theme’s return in major seems like a sadly smiling, parting ray of sunshine.

The Scherzo is fleet, and spooky in the minor-mode passages; the Trio is a lilting, wine-happy waltz. The very long Finale is in constant emotional flux, not only between its several themes, but also within them, restlessly changing from minor to major, turbulent to carefree, stern to playful. Though technically and musically very demanding, its greatest difficulty probably lies in keeping up with these sudden, drastic mood-changes. The Orion’s players met this challenge, as well as all the others posed by this program, with flying colors. As is their custom, the violinists traded parts, Todd taking the first in the Schumann, Daniel in the Schubert. Though each has a distinctly individual sound and puts his own personal stamp on the works he leads, the group’s tonal homogeneity and musical unanimity is totally unaffected by who sits in which chair. Their expressiveness, always deeply felt and dictated by their response to the music, speaks directly to the listeners’ hearts. No wonder their concerts draw a standing-room-only audience of devoted, enthusiastic admirers.

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

Opus Two in Review

Leonard Bernstein: From Concert Hall to Broadway

William Terwilliger, violin

Andrew Cooperstock, piano

Le Poisson Rouge; New York, NY

November 23, 2010

Opus Two

Leonard Bernstein, who passed away 20 years ago, would have been pleased with this program, as it exhibits some of his less familiar, serious music alongside his more well-known. Three quarters of the program were arrangements, with his 1939 violin sonata serving as the only original composition. That violin sonata—oddly enough—came across as the least successful of the four works on this program; not that you can blame Bernstein for being somewhat artistically immature at 21—his age when he completed it. The music isn’t always idiomatic for the violin; William Terwilliger had some difficulties with intonation at the top of the violin’s register in awkwardly-written passages.

Terwilliger’s arrangement of Bernstein’s clarinet sonata is ironically more idiomatic for the violin than Bernstein’s own violin sonata. Because the violin sonata isn’t one of Bernstein’s best works in the violin repertory (his 1954 Serenade for Violin and Orchestra remains one of his most acclaimed pieces), it is valuable to have this clarinet sonata in a transcription for violin; the tunes are buoyant, inspired and fun. Although the 1940s big-band sound and style comes through more clearly on the clarinet (think Benny Goodman), violinists deserve to have this excellent arrangement at their disposal.

Two ‘House’ Songs, Bernstein vocal selections cleverly assorted by Eric Stern, were sung by Stern’s daughter Madeline, and they were a lovely addition to the program. “My House”, from Bernstein’s obscure “Peter Pan” (1950), is a charming little gem, and “Take Care of this House” from “1600 Pennsylvania Avenue” is a delightful extraction from an otherwise forgettable show. The two songs were performed beautifully by the young Madeline Stern, who only recently began her conservatory training; a fruitful musical future awaits her, no doubt.

Four Moments from Bernstein’s “Candide” (1956) were arranged by Eric Stern to include some of the musical’s most memorable and contrasting selections: “I Am Easily Assimilated”, “You were Dead, You Know”, “Glitter and Be Gay”, and “Make Our Garden Grow”. They were arranged in a way that preserves the enchantment of the original, but also shows off the violin and piano admirably. Terwilliger and Cooperstock form a terrific duo with Opus 2; their program was equally engaging.

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

Lukáš Vondráček in Review

Lukáš Vondráček, piano

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, N.Y.

November 22, 2010

LUKÁŠ VONDRÁČEK

2010 Winner of the Hilton Head International Piano Competition, Czech pianist Lukáš Vondráček gave an exciting recital that bodes well for a bright future in music. He is hardly a newcomer, for though in his mid-twenties, he has (according to his biography) visited over 25 countries and given more than 900 concerts (having given his first concert at age 4). He has clearly honed his craft through so much playing; what was perhaps more impressive, though, was how completely committed he was to every single phrase, with not a hint of anything “automatic.”

Opening the recital was Haydn’s Sonata in C Major, No. 60 (Hob. XVI: 50), in lieu of the printed program’s Bach Italian Concerto. While I think the Bach might have led even more beautifully to the Mendelssohn Variations Serieuses (Op. 54), the Haydn was full of delightful surprises. With the imaginative orchestral treatment Mr. Vondráček gave it, it seemed to be just as much an opera overture as a sonata, showing sensitivity to the distinct character of each phrase and an enormous variety of articulations. Occasionally the staccato releases of his hands seemed mannered, to the point where one felt it distracting to watch, so I decided just to listen, and what I heard never failed to hold me.

Mendelssohn’s Variations Serieuses also seized one’s attention and never let go. I can’t recall hearing a performance of this piece quite as dramatic and all-encompassing. It should be required listening for those (and sadly there are some) who relegate Mendelssohn to innocuous, prettified music. From Vondráček’s thoughtful interpretation of the opening theme, to the riveting machine technique in the twelfth variation and the driving final Presto, it was a ride of Romantic extremes. I especially loved the moments where time felt suspended, the ethereal eleventh variation and the melting Adagio of the fourteenth, as this pianist is just as bold in his slow tempi as in fast.

One concern in the Mendelssohn (and even the Haydn) was how the Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev to come could intensify the already full-blown tonal world without straining; one is used to striving for a different sound for each era in piano music, and that did not seem a big priority here. The priority was a genuineness of expression, with not a trace of the condescension that sometimes affects more history-minded performances. All the music felt new in a way that should draw more audiences to classical music. Sure enough though, the louder passages in four of Rachmaninoff’s Op. 33 Etudes-Tableaux saw some subtle harmonic changes eclipsed by sheer decibels, as near the climax of No. 3 in C Minor and the angular, angry No. 9. The Op. 33, No. 1 in F minor and No. 8 in G minor rounded out the set, offering much to admire in dramatic projection and lyricism.

The boisterous pianism of Smetana’s Czech Dances (Hulán and Skocná) opened the second half with energy and humor. It will be good to hear Mr. Vondráček bring attention to more music from his homeland. In an interesting and effective segue, four Lyric Pieces by Grieg followed, Op.57, No.6 (“Homesickness”) Op. 62, No. 2 (“Gratitude”- a nice touch on Thanksgiving week), Op. 62, No. 4 (“Brooklet”) and Op. 68, No. 3 (“At Your Feet”). All showed vivid imagination, but the stunning evocations of the brook took the prize.

Prokofiev’s Sonata, No. 7 (Op. 83) closed with all the firepower one wanted, bringing the audience to its feet. Mr. Vondráček is a powerful pianist, and he should be much in demand for large Romantic concerti, such as Rachmaninoff’s Third Concerto, which he is engaged to play soon. It seemed he would be capable of playing tirelessly for several more hours, and his choice of a highly percussive, energetic encore seemed to agree (something sounding like Martinu, though one could not hear his announcement). One might have wanted something more serene right after Prokofiev’s 7^th Sonata, but this pianist left on a strong and confident note. He should be confident, as he really “has it all.” Bravo!

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