Cheng 2 Duo in Review

Cheng 2 Duo in Review
Bryan Cheng, cello
Silvie Cheng, piano
Weill Recital Hall, New York, NY
October 16, 2011
Cheng 2 Duo

Cheng 2 Duo

 

The New York debut recital of Bryan and Silvie Cheng was infused with a spirit of thoughtfulness and generosity. The obvious affection between the two siblings extends beyond the familial sphere into the audience, and most importantly, into the music itself.  The differences between brother and sister, both as players and as individuals, were apparent within minutes of the first piece.  The thirteen year old cellist, Bryan Cheng, is gifted with abundant facility, innate musicality, and a sense of joy.  Although his talent needs shaping, he benefits from an experienced and exquisite partner in his sister Silvie.

The program alternated between showcases of virtuosity for the cellist, and solid, refined renditions of two sonatas from the solo piano repertory.  Their first offering, the Schubert Arpeggione Sonata, was delivered with aplomb, and a nice sense of phrasing and structure.  Here, as in later works on the program, Mr. Cheng’s left hand work was admirable, but not completely secure.  I hesitate to dwell on this because he is already playing on such a high level.  However, in a sonata such as this, passagework is so exposed, and the challenge is to make it sound pristine and effortless.  He will get there soon, but he is not quite there yet.

Throughout both the Haydn Sonata in E flat major and the Schumann Second Sonata, Ms. Cheng gave thoroughly idiomatic and polished performances.  To appreciate Haydn, one must enter into a private, eccentric world of musical expression.  The pianist brought us there with her subtle use of rubato and finely varied gradations of touch and dynamic.  In the Schumann, her playing of the jewel like second movement was especially poetic, and her pedaling at the close of the fourth movement was purely magical.  I have never heard the piano in this hall sound as round and ample.

It was a treat to hear the Paganini Variations on a Theme of Rossini, a work originally written for the violin, but adapted for cello, and played entirely on the A string.  With fleet fingers, Mr. Cheng successfully negotiated most, if not all of the Alpine passages of this very difficult work. The afternoon’s only contemporary composition was the single movement, “Bringing the Tiger Down from the Mountain II” by the Chinese-Canadian composer Alexina Louie.  In a series of highly contrasting musical gestures, Ms.  Louie explores the opposing forces of yin and yang.  After the penultimate measures dwindle into barely audible rustlings in both cello and piano, there is a terrific surprise ending, which I will not divulge here.  Let’s just say the tiger has the last word.

The Cheng 2 Duo’s grand finale was the Tchaikovsky Rococo Variations, a brave undertaking for any cellist.  I enjoyed hearing Mr. Cheng tackle the fierce technical challenges.  He has no fear, and when he hits the mark, it can be stunning.  This young musician has all the makings of a fine concert artist.  If he pays very close attention to how his sister makes music, he could be a great one.

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

Rosa Antonelli, Pianist in Review

Rosa Antonelli, Pianist in Review
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY
October 15, 2011
Rosa Antonelli

Rosa Antonelli

Rosa Antonelli, an excellent Argentinean pianist, presented a recital of mostly Argentine and Spanish composers at Carnegie Hall (Stern Auditorium), a concert benefiting Action Against Hunger.  Ms. Antonelli, according to the bio in the printed program, “is enjoying an active and varied career.” She has made extensive tours of Europe, Africa, Asia, Latin and North America. Hailed as a leading exponent of Latin American composers, performing works by such masters as Piazzolla, Ugarte, Gineo, Guestavino–among others–to audiences all over the world.

The concert opened with Floro Ugarte (1884-1975): his Two Preludes from “Suite de Mi Terra” (Suite of My Land). Ugarte, born in Buenos Aires, studied in Paris with Albert Lavignac and later became one of the principal organizers and conductors of the Colon Theater at the National Society of Music and the Superior School of Fine Arts at the University of La Plata. His Suite, composed in 1923, was inspired by the poems of the Argentine writer Estanislao del Campo and was originally written for orchestra. This suite consists of three parts: the first, in Animato tempo, captures the motion of weeping willow trees and their shadows, depicting a scene of melancholy contentment. The second part, in Lento Tempo, describes with dramatic intensity the approaching darkness as night begins to fall. (In 1934, Ugarte wrote a second series of “de Mi Terra” for orchestra.

Next came Four Tangos by Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992): Rio Sena; Sentido nico; Milonga del Angel; Chao, Paris. Piazzolla’s music has become increasingly ubiquitous and popular–almost a case of familiarity breeding contempt. He studied in New York City with Bela Wilde, and then–upon his return to Argentina in 1940–with Alberto Ginastera and Nadia Boulanger in Paris. (After intermission, two more Piazzolla Tangos, written in 1963, were heard. Ms. Antonelli’s performance at this concert was the World Premiere of the original piano version.)

Another Argentinean, Carlos Guastavino (1912-2000), followed the first four Piazzolla Tangos with Two Preludes: “El Patio” and “El Sauce from La Siesta.” “La Siesta” is a compilation of three Preludes, each depicting a different scene. The description in “El Patio” evokes the memory of J. Aguirre and depicts the traditional Argentinean weeping trees with soft flowing leaves whispering in the wind. The first half of the program ended with two works by Enrique Granados (1867-1916): his Epilogo from “Escenas Romanticas” and Allegro de Concierto.

After intermission, we heard two early compositions by Isaac Albeniz (1860-1907): Grenada from his “Suite Espanola”, Op. 47; and “L’Automne Waltz”, Op. 170. Ms. Antonelli played all these compositions ‘con amore’. She is a dyed-in-the-wool Romantic Lyricist. Her always aurally beautiful and caressing pianism uses a lot of color via the sustaining pedal; she molds phrases with enormous flexibility, and there was never a hint of harsh, ugly or astringent glint to her lush singing tone. My only quibble was that her deeply poetic interpretations were sometimes a mite too soft-grained and unassertive when I might have preferred to hear more brilliance and extroverted rhythmic thrust. The Granados “Allegro di Concierto” is often played with more virtuoso thrust, and the popular Tres Danzas Argentinas of Alberto Ginastera (1916-1983)– the third Danza del Gaucho Matrero, especially–could have been rendered with more stampeding clarity (as it usually is). On the other hand, Ms. Antonelli’s inward poetry forced me to rehear, and revalue, Piazzolla’s Tangos, which she infused with an eloquence and inner communication that, in truth, has sometimes eluded me.

Postludes to a memorably well-played evening, Ms. Antonelli’s flowing, songful rendition of the early Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, Op. Posth. was an ideally fitting encore.

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

Hilda Huang, Pianist in Review

Hilda Huang, Pianist in Review
Presented by The Rosalyn Tureck International Bach Competition
Faust Harrison Piano Salon, New York, NY
October 15, 2011
Hilda Huang

Hilda Huang

When the young Rosalyn Tureck submitted “The Well-Tempered Clavier” (in place of the single prelude-and-fugue Bach requirement, as her sister Marge used to tell) for her Juilliard entrance examination, she was prematurely aware of her life’s calling and her indefatigable dedication to Bach performance. A career path forged with determination and more than an ounce of friction helped to provide a smooth ride for many of the world’s future single-genre repertoire specialists, men as well as women.

The young Tureck withstood recalcitrant managers and presenters, staid record producers, inattentive sound engineers, prudish musicologists and opportunists alike, with a sense of ownership and oracular prophecy for the perpetuation of her ideal. Tureck’s message, conveyed on a piano and occasionally on other keyboard instruments through meticulous finger articulation and dynamic control, an unwavering sense of rhythm (coupled with an avant-garde Baroque rubato), stylized ornamentation, and faultless memory, was nevertheless Old World: at its heart, her motivation for the mastery of Bach pianism stemmed from a fear of comparison with her harpsichordist archetype, Wanda Landowska. As her detractors called for more spontaneity or parodied her reported séances with the composer, Tureck (who lived until 2003) wrote and edited pedagogical texts and branched out into Busoni and contemporary music, while remaining “the high priestess of Bach,” with a lifetime decoration from the German government (a decoration which she once left behind in my room after a stay, despite her faultless memory). Her legacy took hold in the adulation of audiences, record collectors, university scholars, and, from her point of view, imitators who similarly devised their own mystical personae and interpretative fetishes. Having captured the mantle of Landowska, Tureck was increasingly wary of the eclipsing notoriety of Glenn Gould, which threatened to usurp her unregistered patent on articulation and eccentricity.

With the younger generation (as well as the afterlife) in mind, Tureck laid the groundwork for an international Bach competition which has succeeded in gathering an ardent following of the highest caliber. The Grand Prize Winner of the 2010 session (the competition’s second cycle) is Hilda Huang, now 15, who gave an all-Bach recital at the Faust Harrison Piano Salon on Saturday evening. Performing to a filled room on a pair of beautifully restored pianos at close range, Huang sailed with supreme comfort and assurance through some of the most intricate and eclectic of Bach’s keyboard works, building to a consummate rendition of the Sixth English Suite, BWV 811. (The latter was a last-minute substitution for the originally programmed No. 5, on the advice of her San Francisco mentor, John McCarthy.) Huang already holds title to a Bach prize from Wurzburg, Germany, and would be any jury’s first choice; her flair for counterpoint and understanding of harmony are displayed with ebullience and such crisply designed fingerwork that, for stretches of the concert, I thought I was hearing Her in reincarnation.

There are subtle differences, of course. Unincorporated into Huang’s style are the pointed agogic accents that Tureck used so frequently to dramatize facets of the score; absent are the elegantly meditative lilts of allemande and courante, the poignant whispers of the sarabande, the quarter-pedals with sliding fingers. Rolled chords anticipate their beats neatly, rather than announcing the thumb in a sardonic moment of Tureckian glee. Huang is so upbeat and refreshing—lest one forget her age—that we strain to hear bittersweetness in passages of free rhythm or chromaticism. A fugue subject is a fugue subject—albeit one with a descending tenor foreshadowing the inexorable—but that will certainly come later, perhaps when Huang is sixteen. Her extroversion is alluring for its boldness of sonority and arching crescendi, which Tureck shunned, but which create such a satisfying concept of formal structure in Huang’s playing. This young artist will be thrilling to watch as her perfection extends to embrace the audience, as she experiments with triumphant endings and risky sound effects. For now, she is a phenomenon.

The Bach scene has undergone revisions since Tureck broke new ground. The path is familiar, and modern Bach players may virtually dial-an-approach according to their respective tastes. Indeed, the irregularity of the Baroque “oddly shaped pearl” is out of place in a competition setting and difficult to reconcile with our need for quantifiable elements in a society obsessed with order. But Rosalyn cautioned against too much order: too much perfection is Bach’s hereafter—Mozart.

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

Louise Dubin, Cellist in Review

Louise Dubin, Cellist in Review
Forgotten Treasures by Franchomme and Chopin
John Street Church; New York, NY
September 29, 2011

Louise Dubin

Louise Dubin, a fine cellist who studied with Ardith Alton, Aldo Parisot, Timothy Eddy and Janos Starker, based her thesis on Auguste Franchomme (1808-1884). She has just completed her dissertation on the French cellist and romantic composer to fulfill her Doctoral requirements at Indiana University’s School of Music in Bloomington, and she is the school’s first music performance student to receive two grants for doctoral  research from the university, which funded the research trip to France where she met descendants of Franchomme and discovered much of the music heard at the concert under review. Franchomme, the most distinguished cellist of the era, is not exactly forgotten, but is best remembered as being the dedicatee of Chopin’s Cello Sonata, Op. 65 and, ergo, the great composer’s dearest friend. Franchomme, of course, left no recorded legacy of his performances, but Ms. Dubin’s research has retrieved Franchomme’s own music, and she has just made a commercial recording for the Eroica Classical label of Franchomme’s music, most of which has never been recorded or published. Moreover, Ms. Dubin’s intense and perceptive work has unearthed clues of Franchomme’s probable performance style by way of his fingerings and bowings, having an impact on sound production and an emotional impact on performance.

The September 29th recital began with two of Franchomme’s own pieces: one of his Caprices, Op. 7 No. 9, a fine specimen undoubtedly inspired by Paganini’s famous 24 Caprices, Op. 1 for solo violin, composed circa 1804 and published in1820. Franchomme obviously owes much to Paganini’s models. But its highly contrapuntal style also harks back to J.S. Bach’s unaccompanied Cello Suites. The Caprice was followed by a vivacious set of Variations on an Irish Air, Op. 25 for Cello and Piano, which commenced with a brief introduction and evolved into the theme itself– dancelike and energetic–and a lively numerous set of variants. Ms. Dubin’s excellent performances–likewise, the aforementioned Caprice–was a joy to savor, and Hiroko Sasaki’s cooperation at the piano worked beautifully as a Duo. (Her little asides and comments added immensely to the performance’s effectiveness.) Likewise, Franchomme’s “Fantaisie on Mozart’s Enchanted Flute,” Op. 49 at the end of the printed program (“The Zauberflote” or “Magic Flute”; Franchomme spent much of his career playing in the pit of the Paris Opera Orchestra at the Theatre Italien and in the court of King Louis Philippe). The Fantaisie interpolates parts of the overture and some of the arias heard in the opera itself. Again, Ms. Dubin and Ms. Sasaki worked beautifully together (and I was surprised to learn that the two protagonists had not previously played together before this concert.)

The rest of the concert, mostly Franchomme’s arrangements of Chopin’s treasures (the Nocturne, Op. 55 No. 1, the Funeral March from the Sonata Op. 35, the Mazurka, Op. 33 No.3, and the Prelude, Op. 28 No. 20), were hardly flattered by Franchomme’s tepid and servile recasting for cello and piano (Op. 55 No.1). Moreover, his recasting for Cello Quartet (of the Op. 35 and Op. 28 No. 20) sorely missed some of the ‘di rigeur’ percussiveness of the original piano, and the Second Ballade, Op. 38 was almost laughable (it turned out to be just the piece’s swaying opening theme.) The Cello Quartet, Ms. Dubin; Katherine Cherbas; Saeunn Thorsteindottir and Sarah Hewitt-Roth, also played Franchomme’s adaptations of Schumann’s “Soldier’s March” (from his Album for the Young) and the Can Can from Offenbach’s “Orpheus in the Underworld.”

On the one hand, Liszt’s audacious genius–like it or not–often imparted a vibrant life to the music of other composers that Franchomme’s more modest gifts simply could not do. But the great violinist Nathan Milstein did fashion a more compelling and interesting arrangement of an early Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, Op. Posthumous. (Franchomme’s dutiful “arrangements” did nothing at all.) Mendelssohn’s own “Song without Words” for cello and piano was far more palatable for this listener. Ms. Dubin and Ms. Sasaki played it beautifully.

All told, this concert faute de mieux was worthwhile, mostly for the three original Franchomme pieces. And I am eagerly looking forward to Ms. Dubin’s imminent recording.

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

SongFusion in Review

SongFusion in Review
Christ Church, New York, NY
October 7, 2011

SongFusion

For this concert, the five members of SongFusion (sopranos Victoria Bowers and Mary Mackenzie, baritone Michael Kelly, pianists Liza Stepanova and Kathleen Tagg) were joined by seven guest artists in a program titled “Uncommon Prayer, An Evening of Art Songs Exploring Spirituality Around the Globe.” From beginning to end we heard fine performances by thirteen highly skilled musicians who had clearly worked very hard to put together and rehearse this well-constructed recital. 

In the printed program we read that “SongFusion is a New York-based ensemble dedicated to presenting a wide range of art song repertoire in innovative ways.” The key word here is “innovative.” The first two of these innovations – “programs that explore familiar themes from unexpected angles” and “collaborating with instrumentalists…” – have been part of many art song recitals for quite a long time, and do not create a radical break with earlier traditions. Three other types of collaborators were listed – dancers, actors and visual artists –but none of these were present on tonight’s recital.

 The first set of the evening was called “Religious Songs,” and began with a performance of Maurice Ravel’s “Kaddish,” a setting in Hebrew of the mourner’s prayer. Baritone Michael Kelly performed the work from the left side of a darkened stage which was lit only by candles. This led me to expect that lighting effects would be an important part of the “innovative” nature of this concert. But attempts at “dramatic lighting” only appeared during the six “Religious Songs.” Mr. Kelly, accompanied by pianist Lisa Stepanova, gave us a heartfelt performance of “Kaddish.” His voice is expertly produced with beautiful colors in all parts of his range. Unfortunately, the house lights were also out, making it impossible to read the well laid-out texts and translations in the printed program.

Three songs by Hugo Wolf, arranged for soprano and organ by Max Reger, followed. Quite diatonic, I would never have guessed that these works were by Wolf. But they gave a chance for guest performer Ryan Jackson to show us what the Christ Church organ can do. They were sung with warmth and poise by soprano Mary Mackenzie. The first set concluded with two selections from “Four Hymns” for tenor, viola and piano by Ralph Vaughan-Williams, performed by guest artists Brenton Ryan, tenor, and Edward Klorman, viola, with SongFusion pianist Kathleen Tagg. Although Vaughan-Williams is thought to have what many think is a rather bland harmonic style, I found these pieces far more interesting than the Wolf songs. Mr. Ryan sang beautifully, with confident and well-produced high notes. The sense of ensemble between the various performers in this and all other works on this concert was of the highest quality.

The rest of the first half was called “A Portrait of Composer Libby Larsen.” We heard “Saints Without Tears” (1976) performed with fine diction and sparkle by soprano Victoria Bowers and guest artists Henrik Heide, flute and Heungwon Oh, bassoon; “Lord. Make Me an Instrument” (1996) performed by Michael Kelly and Lisa Sepanova, and “Donal Oge” (2011) performed by Mary Mackenzie and Kathleen Tagg. This was the New York premiere of this last work, commissioned by SongFusion. This set was preceded by a rambling and effusive paean to the composer, delivered by a member of SongFusion. I know that performers have been urged to “break down the barrier” between themselves and the audience by speaking between musical numbers. Unfortunately, this evening, these intra-performance speeches were embarrassingly amateurish, in contrast to the thoroughly professional singing and playing. And although the performances of Larsen’s music were up to the standard of that of the previous works, I find her music uninteresting. But the house lights were finally raised so that from now on we could read the printed texts.

The major set of the second half was called “The Spirit of Foreign Lands.” Although the texts of two of the three sets of songs, Karol Szymanowski’s “Songs of the Infatuated Muezzin” (Arabia) and John Harbison’s “Mirabai Songs” (India) fit in quite well with the concert’s theme of “Spirituality Around the Globe,” I’m not sure how the erotic, anti-colonialist, exotic texts of Ravel’s “Chansons Madégasses” belong. But no matter, as this was one of the concert’s high points. Guest artist mezzo-soprano Naomi O’Connell’s rich voice beautifully conveyed the sensuality and passion of these wonderful Ravel songs, and she was ably supported by flutist Henrik Heide, cellist Andrew Janass and SongFusion pianist Lisa Stepanova.

A short Epilogue, the vocal quartet with piano: “Two Priests” from John Musto’s “Book of Uncommon Prayer,” brought the concert to a rollicking conclusion.

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

The Hope and Love Concert in New York City in Review

The Hope and Love Concert in New York City
Ji-Hae Park, violin
Ji-Eun Baek, accompanist
Sae-Nal Lea Kim, guest accompanist
Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall
October 10, 2011

Ji-Hae

In a concert entitled “The Hope and Love Concert in New York City,” which was produced by Double J Ent., violinist Ji-Hae Park dazzled and thoroughly entertained her audience in a most versatile program. Her stage persona is extremely charismatic and emotional, and she was able to bring out all the stylistic and dynamic contrasts of her varied composers. Her program ranged from Saint-Saens to Mozart and Rachmaninoff to Korean composer Je Myung Hyun and “Chim Chim Cheree” from the musical “Mary Poppins.”  

In this song from “Poppins,” Park brought out the music’s mystery and sweeping lyricism. The mood lighting also helped with just the right ambience. In Richard Strauss’s early Violin Sonata in E-flat, Op. 18, she combined a virtuoso technique with a luxurious Romanticism, and confirmed that this youthful yet masterful work is worthy of regular performances. Physically, as well as musically, she keeps the audience entranced with her body language—either swaying horizontally or sometimes swooping as low as possible to the stage. Her range is stunning; she sounds brilliant at the top of her register, and remarkably rich and dark on the low G-String.

Another highlight of the program was the fiendishly difficult, free-wheeling work: Saint-Saens’ “Danse Macabre.” Here, she offered a virtuoso technique plus great intensity to the melody’s chromaticism and swirling dance patterns. “Souvenir de Korea,” arranged with finesse by Park herself, is a beautiful work. Je Myung Hyun’s “To the Land of Hope:  Hui Mang Ui Na Ra Ro” is an appropriate choice for this program, which is designed to bring people together; her goal, as stated in her program notes, is to use the violin as an instrument to spread the gospel and love of God to as many people as possible. She also makes every effort to unite audiences by incorporating classical, pop music, traditional Korean folk tunes and gospel music, among other styles, on concerts as well as on her recordings. Some of the many accolades she has received include becoming the ambassador of The Korean Christian Art and Music Council, The Handong Global University, and The Africa Future Foundation.

Park was born in Germany in 1985. She plays on the Petrus Guarnerius 1735 Venedig, on loan to her from the German Foundation since 2003. She was the first prize winner of the National Music Competition of Germany Jugend Musiziert in 2001 (solo) and 2002 (chamber music), among many other prizes. She studied with Professor Ulf Hoelscher at the Karlsruhe Musikhochschule in Germany and Professor Jamie Laredo at Indiana University, where she received a full scholarship. Her accompanists Ji-Eun Baek and Sae-Nal Lea Kim gave her excellent support, and the audience on hand was enthusiastic throughout the concert.

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

Nadejda Vlaeva Pianist in Review

Nadejda Vlaeva, piano
YASI Piano Salon; New York, NY
October 4, 2011

Nadejda Vlaeva

Nadejda Vlaeva, a Bulgarian pianist who studied at The Sofia Music School, The Sofia Music Academy, The Sweelinck Conservatorium in Amsterdam and The Manhattan School of Music with teachers Antoanetta Arsova, Anton Dikov, Jan Wijn, and Ruth Laredo (she also worked closely with Lazar Berman), played unusual fare on her recital at YASI Piano Salon on October 4th—a program co-hosted by the American Liszt Society NY/NJ Chapter and the Yamaha Artists Service.

Ms. Vlaeva, who resides in New York, has extensive concert experience in Bulgaria, Russia, Slovakia, Hungary, The Netherlands, Germany, England, Spain, Barbados, Canada and the United States, and she has garnered extravagant encomiums from conductor Hans Graf (“her musicality and the depth of her interpretation amazed me”), Guarneri Quartet Primarius Arnold Steinhardt (“One of the people of extraordinary ability whom we hope for but rarely see”) and Lazar Berman (a “God Given” talent). She has made several CDs for MSR Classics, the Bulgarian Gega New Series, and her latest release for Hyperion.

Six of the 13 Bach/Saint-Saens transcriptions formed the first group on the recital program: the Recitative and Air from Cantata No. 30; from the Violin Partita No. 3; the Largo from the Violin Sonata No. 3; the Bouree from the Violin Partita No. 1; the Adagio from Cantata No. 3; and the Overture from Cantata No. 29 “Wir danken dir Gott,” BWV 29. Nowadays, concertgoers are accustomed to the heavy gravy of Bach-Busoni or Bach-Liszt, so I found it refreshing and fascinating to hear Bach’s music with a light mayonnaise dressing (Romantic to be sure, but French rather than Germanic). The aforementioned Overture from Cantata No. 29 turned to be none other than a D Major transcription of the ubiquitous Preludio to the E Major Violin Partita; what a world of difference–harmonically and stylistically–between Rachmaninoff’s (“Bachmaninoff’s”) arrangement of the selfsame piece! Ms. Vlaeva produced some of her strongest, most winning playing for this opening salvo: she has color, temperament, vitality and considerable dexterity.

“Carnivale di Milano,” Op. 21, by Hans von Bulow, was interesting to hear from the conductor who pompously donned black gloves for the Eroica’s Funeral March, called Brahms’s first symphony “Beethoven’s Tenth,” and condescendingly “dissed” Verdi’s Requiem. Ms. Vlaeva played five movements from the Suite: No. 1, Polacca; No. 4,Intermezzo fantastico; No. 7, Intermezzo lirico; No. 9, Intermezzo scherzoso; and No. 10, Galop. As in Hugo Wolf’s “Italian Serenade”, von Bulow found a modicum of levity and cuteness—not his most natural temperamental attire, to be sure, but essentially congenial.

After the intermission, Ms. Vlaeva gave a clarion, thrusting, and rhetorical account of Liszt’s “Dante Sonata”, a Bulow arrangement of Liszt’s Dante Sonnet “Tanto gentile”, and ended the printed part of her program with an intermittently potent, sometimes sprawling and slapdash account of the Liszt “Carnival in Pest” (his Hungarian Rhapsody No. 9).

There were three encores: among them, an ostensible spirited but messy, and rhythmically spastic Liszt “Gnomenreigen”, and Rebikov’s “Music Box.”

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

Edith Eisler in Memoriam

Edith Eisler in Memoriam
August 4, 2011

 
 
 

 The violinist Edith Eisler, who was a beloved teacher and coach for over 50 years, and a frequent contributor to New York Concert Review, died in her Manhattan home on July 18, at the age of 86.  Her Upper West Side apartment was a haven for violinists and chamber music players of all ages, beneficiaries of her lifelong immersion in music, and her disciplined yet humane approach to teaching.  In addition to her primary vocation,  she was a gifted writer and a highly valued reviewer on the staffs of several music publications.

I met Edith for the first time in 1995, after she was recommended to me by a mutual friend who was a colleague of hers at the Turtle Bay School.  She agreed to take me on as a violin student on the condition that I  also  make myself available as a pianist for her chamber music studio.  For the next sixteen years, I met with her weekly in my struggle to master the violin, and stayed on after my lesson for countless ad hoc sessions with flutists, cellists and violinists who, like me, were both Edith’s friends and devoted students.  My aptitude on the violin progressed at a glacial pace over those many years, due mostly to my spotty practice regime.  I did learn to play the violin though, and more importantly, I absorbed, through Edith, a tradition of playing music, a way of hearing and feeling music that has made me a better musician.

Edith Eisler

Her teaching was rigorous, methodical, and individualized.  The standard exercise books and student pieces were supplemented with hundreds of  study sheets, written in her own hand, and recycled over decades to adapt to each new technical challenge.  She would absolutely forbid her students to fake anything or to move on to a new piece until they had completely mastered the previous one.  Likewise, her chamber music coaching could turn into month long odysseys into the heart of a Beethoven sonata or a Schubert fantasy.  These composers – Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms – were as close to her as her own family, and their works were sewn into the fabric of her heart and soul.

Music was Edith Eisler’s religion.  Indeed, she observed no holidays, religious or otherwise, offering lessons on Christmas Day or Yom Kippur, oblivious to convention.  She was extremely thin, with the appetite of a sparrow.  In all the years I knew her, the only thing I ever saw her consume was coffee, usually cold.  She often admonished me for patronizing Starbucks, when she had “perfectly good” coffee in the refrigerator.  When Edith wasn’t teaching or coaching, she was listening to music from her vast CD library, on the radio or television, or more likely, at one of New York’s numerous concert halls.  After her long career as a reviewer (she hated the word critic and most practitioners of that profession), she maintained free access to Carnegie Hall and most other venues simply because she was beloved by the people who worked there.  Edith’s concert companion for most of her life was her mother Sophie, and after she died at the age of 101, I became one of many friends to whom she would offer tickets, in exchange for help getting a taxi after the show.

Throughout her life, Edith remained nostalgic about her childhood in Vienna, and spoke with regret about having to flee her country in order to find a better existence here.  Like many displaced people, she worked very hard to make her new home a safe and nurturing place.  I, and many others, mourn Edith’s passing not only because we loved her as a friend and mentor, but because she represented a tradition which is slowly vanishing in this technological age.  That tradition rests on the creation of live music in one’s own home, the enjoyment of sharing this with others, and the gift of knowledge passed on through generations of musicians.

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

Nataliya Medvedovskaya Pianist in Review

Nataliya Medvedovskaya Pianist in Review
Bargemusic, Brooklyn, N.Y.
August 4, 2011
 
Nataliya Medvedovskaya

Nataliya Medvedovskaya

 

In a series entitled “Here and Now,” pianist Nataliya Medvedovskaya offered a unique smorgasbord of modern works in the equally unique venue, Bargemusic. The “Here” is New York, the base of 10 composers on her program including herself (the exception being Jeremy Beck from Kentucky), and the “Now” stretched from the present to as far back as 1976, the date of Lowell Liebermann’s Piano Sonata, No. 1. The program notes state that Ms. Medvedovskaya researched several hundred compositions before choosing her program based on “fresh compositional ideas, arresting tonal values, and colorful, interesting harmonies.” While not all of these criteria came to mind equally with each piece, it was clear that the pianist herself felt complete commitment to each one, playing all with thoughtful involvement, projection, and polish. Each work was memorized, which is no small feat in newer piano literature and an unusual testament to the performer’s dedication. Many of the composers were present and expressed deep gratitude for this pianist’s performances, and listeners were grateful for a sampling of largely unfamiliar fare played with excellence.

With a change to the printed program, the opening work was Eugene McBride’s Nocturne, a modern, somewhat Scriabinesque version of the genre of Chopin and Field, with some intense development in its central section. It invited the listener inside, as befits an opener. Eugene Marlowe’s 3 pieces from “Les Sentiments D’Amour” followed: “Rougir Pour la Première Fois” (First Blush) “Melancolie” (Melancholy), and “Le Charmeur” (The Flirt), played with polish and élan. Marlowe’s accessible, breezy style was a good foil for what came next, some compositions by the pianist herself. Ms. Medvedovskaya’s 4 pieces, Scherzo, March, Lullaby, and Burlesque, proved effective miniatures showing significant influence of Shostakovich and Kabalevsky (my listening companion suggested “Shostalevsky”). Nothing disparaging is meant, as these are interesting character pieces, simply that Ms. Medvedovskaya’s years at the legendary Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatory of St. Petersburg, Russia have had their imprint. Next came Debra Kaye’s Visions Fugitives (2 piano pieces), inspired by Ms. Kaye’s stay in Taos, New Mexico. Though the title obviously refers to Prokofiev’s Op. 22, the music, in its evocation of a noble, open landscape, seemed to bear some kinship with Copland. It brought large emotions into small forms.

The first half ended with Lowell Liebermann’s Piano Sonata, Op. 1, composed at age fifteen (1976). An auspicious start to the impressive career that ensued, this work contains more than just seeds of future greatness, as it has moments of haunting beauty (especially the third movement, Lento), along with taut craftsmanship. Ms. Medvedovskaya gave it a cogent performance, with a particularly rousing fourth movement finale.

After intermission, there were again intriguing miniatures, Binnette Lipper’s two Bagatelles (from a set of seven) of which were selected the whimsical “Dalliance” and the extraterrestrial-inspired “Spatial Relations” both given vivid characterizations in the pianist’s interpretations. A Toccata by Jeremy Beck held its head up well next to its twentieth-century predecessors in the genre by Ravel and others, and Ms. Medvedovskaya paid attention to sound and balance throughout it, never stressing the sheer perpetual motion aspect. In contrast followed Rain Worthington’s “Hourglass,” a reflection on the passage of time. Reviewer Jack Sullivan from American Record Guide described Ms. Worthington’s music well, attributing to it a “Satie-like repose.” Ms. Medvedovskaya brought out the timeless, sinuous qualities with sensitivity. “Prelude” by Beata Moon recovered the recital’s momentum with the fluidity of music inspired by dolphins, and almost “New Age” in style, though with some immediately affecting Romantic harmonies. Ms. Moon’s second piece held me less, its climactic glissandi seeming a bit facile in context.

Some good old-fashioned fun brought the program back to earth with Robert S. Cohen’s two movements from “An Ant’s World.” “The Work Never Ends” set the scene as the busy world of ants, while “Invasion of the Anteaters” married the ragtime feel of some Bolcom works with dark humor reminiscent of Gounod’s Marionettes. It was a sped-up quote from Chopin’s Funeral March, though, that made for the most outright laughter. The pianist relished every bit of the fun, as did her audience.

The program closed with the first scene from Ms. Medvedovskaya’s own ballet based on “The Wonderful Adventures of Nils,” a fairy tale by Nobel Prize-winning Swedish author Selma Lagerlof. Soprano Felicity Graham narrated with Ms. Medvedovskaya at the piano, a fine collaboration with only one mishap of the text entering early. This vibrantly dramatic music is absolutely perfect for ballet, and one expects choreographers to be tripping over one another for the rights to it. I trust that the next time I hear the music I will also see it fully realized, as it is currently under commission, we are told in the notes. Meanwhile, one’s appetite was whetted. Fireworks from across the river joined in seeming celebration of its final notes, the end of a remarkable evening.

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

The XIV International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition, Moscow June 14 – June 30, 2011

The XIV International Tchaikovsky Piano Competition, Moscow June 14 – June 30, 2011

Finding myself with some time and a decent internet connection on my hands while packing up a house in the Caribbean for the approaching hurricane season, I discovered to my delight that the Tchaikovsky Competition was being webcast this year.  It’s of such monumental proportions now, with the piano, violin, cello and voice events being run simultaneously from Moscow and St. Petersburg, and with more than 100 participants, that it’s impossible to hear it all. So, being a pianist myself, I chose to listen to as much of the piano competition as I could.

First prize winner pianist Daniil Trifonov

First prize winner pianist Daniil Trifonov

Delight often turned to frustration with the Tchaikovsky’s website. It is a bit of a hash – a mass of counterintuitive menus – for instance, you cannot go directly from the performers listing to his or her performances.  And the page giving the results of each round has no links to the players at all, so you are constantly trying to remember which menu has the navigation you want.  They’ve also been rather slack about posting videos in the Archives section which, so far anyway, still does not contain all the finalists’ concerto performances.

Second Prize Winner Pianist Yeol Eum Son

Second Prize Winner Pianist Yeol Eum Son

The streaming video is of variable but generally poor quality, often grainy and pixilated and the audio (which, incidentally, is excellent) is almost always about a second ahead of the video.  Regrettably, the camera work is more suited to a hip-hop music video, particularly in the concerto rounds, with fast cuts (often 3 seconds or less) from a crotch shot of the tympani player to a close up of the concertmaster’s ear to the annoying up-the-right-nostril camera angle which has been used far too often with the soloists.  Whoever is cueing the cameras also seems to be fairly ignorant of the content of the repertoire, and either can’t read music or is just winging it because at nearly every interesting spot in the performances I’ve seen so far, the camera is anywhere but on the players’ hands.  Far below standard for an event of this importance and prestige – still, it’s wonderful to be able to view the competition in its entirety because these pianists really are the creme de la creme.  Commenting on it all for the webcast were Irina Tushintseva in Russian and John Rubinstein, the son of legendary pianist Arthur Rubinstein, in English.  A tough job considering they had to ad lib through sometimes extended delays, but they chatted away gracefully, if not always informatively.

Third Prize Winner Pianist Seong-Jin Cho

Third Prize Winner Pianist Seong-Jin Cho

As I began to watch the opening round concerts – there were 29, and I have to admit I did not see them all – I was really astonished by the depth of talent at this event.  For the statistically minded, only 8 of the 29 competitors were women, including the youngest, 16 year old  Ekaterina Rybova.  This surprised me since in most other competitions the sexes are about equally divided, with numbers often tilting slightly to the female side.  Also interesting is that Steinway seems to be maintaining its dominance on the concert platform, chosen as it was by 19 of the 29 pianists.  The remaining performers went about half for Yamaha and the rest to Fazioli and Shigeru Kawai.  There was also a wide breadth of personalities apparent in these competitors – some comfortable and engaging on stage, some visibly nervous, or unhappy, or fretful.  Some smiling, some not, some handsomely dressed, some verging on shabbiness.  One excellent but possibly hard pressed player appeared to have borrowed his concert clothes from someone several sizes larger, a poignant sight.  One of the all male, mostly jacket and tie wearing jury members persisted in showing up dressed as if he’d been transported there direct from an aisle at K-Mart, not poignant at all, just objectionable.  In any case, in order to keep this account of the competition to a manageable length, let’s talk about the 12 pianists who made it through to Round II:

Sara Daneshpour, the only American in the competition and one of only two women to emerge from the First Round, is an elegant player, prone to a sweetness of gesture that was an asset in Haydn’s F Major Sonata and Schumann’s Abegg Variations but didn’t work as well in other repertoire – notably the darkly brooding Corelli Variations of Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev’s demonic Toccata, Op. 11.  In the Mozart Concerto round, her D minor, K. 466 was lithe and dramatic but went momentarily off the rails in the second movement – only an instant really, but probably enough to get her eliminated.

At 30, Eduard Kunz has been around the competition circuit for a number of years.  He’s a tremendously communicative and intelligent musician, and one of the most interesting and satisfying pianists to be heard at this Tchaikovsky Competition.  At crucial moments though, he’s prone to crack a note or have a slip of the finger and it damages his playing just enough to knock him out of contention.  It’s a problem because absolute technical perfection has become the norm, often superseding excellent musicianship  – a real case of the perfect becoming the enemy of the good.  Among his performances, a startlingly colorful and imaginative Gaspard de la Nuit was a particular gem.

Twenty year old Swiss pianist François-Xavier Poizat is another deeply fascinating musician.  I had hopes he might make the finals as well – he gave a Mozart Sonata in C Major (K. 330) of pure crystalline beauty, and an interesting and finely detailed performance of the rarely played Prokofiev Fourth Sonata.  There was also a stunningly beautiful Tombeau de Couperin by Ravel, ending with a luminous and finally blazing account of its perilous Toccata.

Born near Vladivostok in the Russian Far East, 22 year old Alexander Sinchuk is a sort of Byronic ideal of a concert pianist.  Handsome, elegantly dressed, ramrod straight at the instrument and with his David face tilted heavenward, it became obvious he has an affinity for the darkly romantic corners of the repertoire.  He gave forceful accounts of the Schubert A minor Sonata Op. 143, the Franck Prelude Chorale and Fugue and Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Sonata.  At the end of the first day, he hurled himself at the Prokofiev Seventh Sonata “Stalingrad” as if he could see the carnage and smoking ruins in his mind’s eye.  He was absolutely excellent, and on another day he might have finished in the top five.  That he didn’t this time is just additional proof of the stratospheric standards on display here.

Twenty-four year old St. Petersburg native Alexander Lubyantsev had some serious partisans at the event, to the point that when he was eliminated there was some vocal dissatisfaction with the judges’ decision.  For me, the judges were on the money this time.  At this level, everybody is good, but I found Lubyantsev’s performances rather square, particularly his Mozart K. 467, which seemed an endless series of groups of four sixteenth notes without enough grace or context.

 

Filipp Kopachevskiy

Filipp Kopachevskiy

Filipp Kopachevskiy, on the other hand, gave devastating readings of the Schumann Kreisleriana and Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Sonata, and an impassioned performance (from the score, but several of the competitors exercised this option) of the commissioned work, Tchaikovsky Etude by Rodion Shchedrin.  This 21 year old Muscovite with the Beatles style mop-top made a huge impression with his first round performances as well – particularly with Tchaikovsky’s Danse Characteristique, the Chopin Grand Polonaise in A-Flat and a whirling, stomping, blindingly incandescent performance of Ravel’s La Valse that took the Shigeru Kawai piano he chose to its outer limits without for a second tipping over into ugly sound.  Three very different dances, and he brought to each one its own characteristic rhythmic impetus, but they were unmistakably his performances, in his own immediately identifiable voice.  This is a trait only the greatest players have, and it’s what makes for really compelling listening.  In this competition, at least to my ears, Mr. Kopachevskiy and First Prize winner Daniil Trifonov were the only pianists who had it.

So what happened?  As I think about his elimination I am, well – frankly rather disgusted.  His kaleidoscopic playing was so obviously superior to at least three of the four others who were promoted to the final round, that I simply can’t understand it.  And I’m not the only one.  I speak Russian – well, perhaps more accurate to say that I understand it reasonably well.  So I can tell you that when Irina Tushintseva, the Russian anchor, in her commentary introducing him in Round II referred to Kopachevsky as “number one,” John Rubinstein, laughing, replied, “Irina, you’re not allowed to say that!”

There are two possible explanations, and probably some combination of both was at work here – one is that his final performance, a Mozart Concerto (the sober K. 491 in C minor, which, having changed from Kawai he played on a Steinway, and using Mikhail Pletnev’s slightly strange cadenzas), was not his best piece.  There were no problems, not a note out of place, but somehow it didn’t seem as deeply committed as his previous work.  The other is his demeanor on stage.  Kopachevskiy displays a Rachmaninovian unwillingness to smile, and he gives little indication to the audience that he appreciates or even accepts their attention and applause.  It shouldn’t matter in one so hugely talented, but perhaps it chipped off just enough appeal to make a difference with the judges.  It’s something they should never have considered, but I can think of no other explanation.  He should easily have placed first or second.  As it was, he didn’t even get the jury’s Discretionary Prize (which went to Pavel Kolesnikov, an excellent but not really distinctive performer) – anyhow, a real blot on the entire event.

No competition at this level ever goes off entirely without controversy, and while the piano division was relatively free of scandal – apart from my own grave dissatisfaction with the elimination of Kopachevsky – a real lulu of a storm broke over the cello contest.  Apparently, in the concerto round, conductor Mark Gorenstein made a racist remark during rehearsals with Armenian finalist, Narek Hakhnazaryan, calling him something like a “redneck.”  Tchaikovsky Competition officials put out a fairly hot statement disavowing Gorenstein’s comment in surprisingly strong terms, and Gorenstein scuttled out and was quickly replaced.  Hakhnazaryan, bless him, went on to win First Prize – the ultimate revenge.  I suspect that Mr. Gorenstein’s career has suffered, in E. F. Benson’s elegant phrase, “an irretrievable eclipse.”

So, on to the final five pianists:

Fifth Prize Winner Alexei Chernov, 28, from Moscow, was a puzzle to me from the beginning.  This guy should buy a Lotto ticket, because he drew the final performance in every round, an advantageous spot by most calculations since, assuming your performance is one among many decent ones, you are at least fresh in the judges’ minds.  He began his Round II recital by pairing a short Bartok Etude (the Op. 18, No. 3) with the required Shchedrin Tchaikovsky Etude, making an attractive combination particularly with Chernov’s incisive and tangy tone and ultra clear pedaling.  Next up was the Scriabin 5th Sonata, a wild ride under any circumstances, but in this case sounding more hysterical than phantasmagorical, in part due to the lightly applied pedal which served Chernov so well in the previous pieces.  It just wasn’t juicy enough.  A simple suite by Henry Purcell was next – a daringly un-virtuosic choice for a super virtuoso competition.  A Glenn Gould, or these days a David Fray, might have made it fascinating but Mr. Chernov doesn’t have that kind of irresistible declamation in music like this.  His Schumann Symphonic Etudes suffered from attempts to exaggerate the dramatic content – too much rubato, too much stretching of phrases, pauses that went on too long, and this tendency toward questionable taste carried over into his concerto performances (Mozart, K. 595 and Tchaikovsky 1st).  He ran into trouble in the final round with the Brahms 1st Concerto – the only time it was played in this competition – trying to engage with an orchestra that here sounded seriously under-rehearsed.

I expected Fourth Prize Winner, 26 year old Alexander Romanovsky of Ukraine, to finish higher.  I thought he was a more interesting player than the two immediately above him.  His Round I Brahms Paganini Variations, a notoriously demanding work, featured some pretty spectacular playing both technically and musically.  He has a maturity of musicianship and understanding that allows him the seriousness to bring off a piece like the Symphonic Etudes, which he also played, in a natural way – without sounding as Chernov sometimes did, like a youngster wearing a stage beard.  His Tchaikovsky 1st and Rachmaninoff 3rd concertos were full of warm sound and elegant phrasing, as well as the requisite high octane that I thought would have carried him further.  Perhaps his problem was that he had the misfortune to choose the same Mozart Concerto (in A Major, K. 488) as the ultimate winner Trifonov, who played it so beautifully that some of the color seemed to drain from Romanovsky’s performance.

The youngest competitor to make the later rounds, 17 year old South Korean pianist Seong Jin Cho took Third Prize and he certainly has plenty of virtuoso chops.  His playing was uniformly clean and unfazed by any technical challenge no matter how difficult, but I missed the kind of in depth musical approach to pieces like the Schumann Humoreske and the Beethoven Sonata Op. 110, and the color and character needed to do justice to Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition which he plays well now but will play better in a few years.  The fireworks in the Tchaikovsky and Rachmainoff 3rd Concertos he handles admirably, even astonishingly for such a youngster, but he lacks some of the drama to make them really effective.

Second Prize Winner Yeol Eum Son, 25, also from South Korea, has one overriding characteristic in her playing – a kind of superhuman éclat that can easily remind you of Hofmann or Lhévinne in its supremely clear, neat and even brilliance.  Is it that she deploys it too often that bothers me, or is it just as when someone extraordinarily beautiful walks by – heads turn to look?  In any case, it becomes hard to notice anything but her spectacularly perfect execution and all that flawless pearling has the unfortunate effect of making whatever she plays sound a little bit precious.  It works to her advantage in bon-bons like Liszt’s Spanish Rhapsody and Samuel Feinberg’s extraordinary transcription of the Scherzo from Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony.  Now there’s a piece that’s seldom heard due to its phenomenal difficulty, and Ms. Son very nearly took the roof off the Bolshoi Zal with it.  Even in Mozart’s effervescent K. 467 Concerto her diamond cut playing is attractive, but in meatier repertoire like the Sonata Op. 111 of Beethoven something essential is missing.  Perhaps she’ll have to resort to the Hollywood actresses’ method for avoiding smitten fans – some kind of pianistic version of big sunglasses, no-makeup and a ratty hairdo.  I wish I got more musical satisfaction from her playing (and clearly the judges disagree with me here), but I have to admit I’d love to hear her in Schulz-Evler’s Blue Danube.

First Prize went to Daniil Trifonov and there is no question that it was richly deserved.  This 20 year old, born in Nizhny Novgorod (formerly Gorky) in the Russian heartland, is a student at the Cleveland Institute of Music in Ohio, studying with emigré Russian pianist Sergey Babayan who I vividly remember hearing practically turn the piano inside out in competition 20 years ago.  It’s an interesting combination since they are very different sorts of players.  Babayan, the incendiary virtuoso, has somehow had a hand in developing a mellow, rather introverted but angelicly pure musical soul in Trifonov.  Not that Trifonov lacks technical voltage – quite the contrary, he’s up to anything, in fact his complete Chopin Etudes, Op. 25 were one of the highlights of the entire competition, it’s just that he’s more Lipatti than Horowitz.  Every note he touched was pure gold, but I really think his crowning moment came in what must surely have been one of the loveliest performances of Mozart’s K. 488 Piano Concerto ever given.  Compelling, radiant, every gesture in the music lovingly communicated, directly and with perfect naturalness, artfully but without artifice.  It simply could not have been better.

Mr. Trifonov came to Moscow to compete in the Tchaikovsky directly from his First Prize win at the 2011 Arthur Rubinstein Competition in Tel Aviv.  The double first place finishes will doubtless give some impetus to what at his age is a fairly new career.  It’s likely to be a brilliant one.

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by Timothy Gilligan  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY