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

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

Distinguished Concerts International New York in Review (DCINY)

Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

January 17, 2011

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

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

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

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

Hlif Sigurjonsdottir, Violinist in Review

Merkin Concert Hall, New York NY

January 15, 2011

Hlíf Sigurjóns

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

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

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

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

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

Live from Lincoln Center/New York Philharmonic in Review

Alan Gilbert, conductor

Lang Lang, piano

New Year’s Eve Concert; December 31, 2010

Avery Fisher Hall, telecast on PBS

Lang Lang - Photo Credit: Detlef Schneider

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

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

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

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

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

Continuum in Review

Northern Exposures II: Canadian New Music—The Trailblazers

Americas Society

December 13, 2010

Left to right: R. Murray Schafer, John Weinzweig, Ann Southam, Claude Vivier, Barbara Pentland, Gilles Tremblay, Diana McIntosh

In the second concert of a series featuring Canadian music, Continuum went back into time to present music from an older generation (works mostly from the 70’s and 80’s) and entitled the program “The Trailblazers”. (The first concert in this series featured Canada’s more contemporary composers.) This program—like the first—did not disappoint, as the music was gripping, daring or sweetly pastoral; and it was once again varied, enlightening and well-prepared.

The concert opened with harpist Bridget Kibbey’s magnificent performance of R. Murray Schafer’s “The Crown of Ariadne”. The work, which asks the harpist to play percussion in addition to the usual duties, was as captivating as the performance itself; it was innovative from start to finish. Barbara Pentland’s Caprice for solo piano was short but sweet—superbly rendered by pianist Cheryl Seltzer. Next on the program was John Weinzweig’s monumental “Trialogue” for soprano, flute and piano. Although composed without any sense of real tonality (whispers, laughter and shrieking abound), this entertaining theater piece laced with psychological undercurrents engages the audience as well as a classic Broadway show. The audience loved the performance, which was presented in a memorable comic-dramatic style by soprano Mary Mackenzie, flutist Fiona Kelly and Pianist Joel Sachs.

Ann Southam, who sadly passed away about two weeks prior to this performance, wrote a haunting piano quintet seemingly in her own memory, as its hypnotic and tender opening piano chords seem to ring in eternity. Seltzer did a lovely job of letting the music speak simply and lie in its own serenity. The work fades repeatedly as it began, but in the middle, the string writing is contrapuntally complex, and violist Stephanie Griffin, violinists Renee Jolles and David Fulmer, and cellist Claire Bryant played with technical finesse and commitment.

Diana McIntosh’s appealing and more conventional “Nanuk” was a workout for violist Griffin—who played it with conviction and superb command of the instrument, while Gilles Tremblay’s “Cedres en voiles—Threne pour le liban” is much more cutting edge modernity—with marvelous effects for the solo cello. It was played brilliantly by Bryant. Claude Vivier’s “Pulau dewata” for variable ensemble—this time in an arrangement for piano trio by Henry Kucharzyk—is completely original in concept and material.

With this marvelous program of Canadian composers, Continuum has once again proven that we should be more and more exposed to the music of the North.

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

“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

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