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Young-Ah Tak, Pianist in Review

Young-Ah Tak, piano

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

March 8, 2012

Young-Ah Tak

There was a buzz in the air preceding this concert. Was this just an excited audience of friends and colleagues, or was there something about the pianist I didn’t know? My curiosity was peaked. And just a few moments into Young-Ah Tak’s New York debut recital, one realized that something special was happening; we were in the presence of an extraordinary pianist. The program began with a brilliant performance of Muzio Clementi’s Sonata in B-flat Major, Opus 24, No. 2. Here we first heard the characteristics which were to make this a most memorable recital – crystal–clear articulation of rapid passages, beautifully phrased legato melodies, note–perfect octaves. Even the trills, sparkling and energetic, were notable. As you read on, you will see that I was very, very, very impressed by every aspect of Ms. Tak’s playing. But although I want this to be considered a rave review, I must chide her for not repeating the exposition of the first movement of Clementi’s sonata. This repeat is not ad libitum, and leaving it out trivializes the movement, upsets the balance and distorts the structure. I urge her to think about this when performing similar movements in the future.

Next we heard the New York premiere of Judith Lang Zaimont’s “Wizards – Three Music Masters.” Commissioned in 2003 as the required work in the San Antonio International Piano Competition, it is a work which exploits many aspects of pianistic color. Even though—to this listener—this piece was just another example of a 20^th/21^st century work in which one has no idea why one note follows the other, Ms. Tak’s playing was so convincing that I was sure she was playing exactly what was written in the score. Ms. Zaimont could not have asked for a better performance.

This was followed by scintillating performances of Liszt’s delightful transcriptions of two Schubert songs, “Gretchen am Spinnrade” and “Ständchen von Shakespeare.” Although I would have liked a bit more rhythmic clarity in the left–hand accompaniment of “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” Ms. Tak easily mastered the more difficult Lisztian virtuosic additions to both songs. What fun! The first half ended with a convincing performance of Leon Kirchner’s Piano Sonata No.1 (1948).

The entire second half was devoted to Schubert’s Piano Sonata in C Minor, D.958. Of three magnificent piano sonatas written in the last year of the composer’s all too short life, this dark and strange work is the least performed. And what a pleasure it was to hear Ms. Tak’s superlative rendition. Instead of writing a rhapsodic paragraph, I think my reaction will be made clearer if I just quote from the notes I took during the performance:

First movement: clear left-hand accompaniment during the second theme – so difficult ravishing pp (pianissimo) scales again didn’t repeat exposition
Second movement: singing legato melody with clear rhythmic accompaniment – beautiful!
Third movement: danced, great tension during silences
Fourth movement:thrilling!

After prolonged and well-deserved applause, Ms. Tak’s encore was a mesmerizing performance of Schubert’s Impromptu, Opus 90, No. 3. This was a recital I will long remember.

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

Kotaro Fukuma, Pianist in Review

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall

December 6, 2011

Kotaro Fukuma

In a Weill Hall recital presented by New York Concert Artists and Associates, Kotaro Fukuma, who was born in Tokyo but now resides in Berlin, performed a beautifully varied program for a full house audience. The first half consisted of selections from Bach’s “Art of the Fugue” plus a work that was inspired by them: the Sonata No. 31 in A-flat Major, Op. 110 by Beethoven. The Beethoven has a fugal movement of its own, and Mr. Fukuma performed it–like the Bach–with great clarity of rhythmical articulation. Indeed, his technique is superb. I would have preferred a little more delineation of the fugal entrances—i.e. more dynamic contrast between the entrance and subsidiary counterpoint. There could also have been better phrasing in terms of showing the direction of the melodic line; for example, phrases beginning with a softer, lighter touch and ending with fuller climaxes.

In the second half, Fukuma confirmed his stellar technique with Liszt transcriptions. “Ab Irato” from “Grande Etude de Perfectionnement” was fantastic. “La Campanella” could have had more Romantic-period exaggeration of dynamics; like in earlier pieces, he needed to play with a more varying touch and bring more shape (crescendo and diminuendo phrasing) to the musical lines. He ended it brazenly and powerfully, however, with polished octaves that were as clean as a whistle. One became riveted by the music’s concluding dramatic intensity.

In Ligeti’s Book I Etudes (selections), Fukuma played with a wonderfully articulate left hand, and excellent all-around clarity of rhythm. In “Arc-en-Ciel”, he could have brought more dreaminess to the atmosphere. In general, more phrasing within the given dynamics and subtleties of color were missing, but his interpretation of “Automne a Varsovie” seemingly held the audience spellbound with its sudden flare-ups of high octane heat.

Sergei Liapounov’s music from the “Etudes d’execution transcendante”, Op. 11

displayed more of Fukuma’s technical strengths, with thunderous, blazing octaves. His encores (Chopin/Liszt: “Meine Freunden” and another Liapounov Etude) were equally impressive, as they were permeated with impeccable virtuosity. Come to think of it, he didn’t miss a note all evening.

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

Rosa Antonelli, Pianist in Review

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY

October 15, 2011

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.

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

Luisa Sereina Splett pianist in Review

Weill Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY

May 26, 2011

For a promising pianist in her twenties making her springtime debut at Weill Hall, Luisa Splett chose a program that was surprisingly autumnal. Opening with one of this reviewer’s personal favorites, Medtner’s quietly haunting “Sonata Reminiscenza” (from Op. 38 “Forgotten Melodies”), Ms. Splett played with a delicate, measured sound and a cerebral restraint that allowed the composition to reveal its own wistfulness, as if she were simply hearing it from afar. Showing minimal physical movement or romantic liberty and taking barely a nanosecond of rhythmic license, she might have elicited an initial description of being cold or mechanical, but by the end she had conveyed the piece with the purity of a still life painting, an artwork in which the beholder needs to take an active interpretive role with no predigesting or pandering. A strict adherence to each beat, which might also have seemed wooden at first, convinced me by the end that it enhanced the piece, evoking loss and the passage of time, as the work’s title and message suggest. The tone throughout was beautiful, thoughtfully prepared and mellow, though I did want more range at times. It was ultimately an unusual and moving performance, ending with a sense of surrender that was extremely poignant. It would be tedious to enumerate the skills, years of study, and international concerts that helped hone this performance, but suffice it to say that Ms. Splett had an early start, having been born to a family of musicians in Switzerland, and that she studied in Chile and Russia, where she is now preparing to defend a doctoral dissertation on the work of pianist/composer Emil Frey.

More retrospective and introspective music followed, namely the oft-ignored Ninth Sonata of Prokofiev, the last one he completed, around six years before he died. After the violent, biting, and sorrowful qualities of Prokofiev’s “War Sonatas,” the Ninth Sonata (Op. 103 in C Major) stands in complete contrast as a work of serenely narrative quality and less overt drama. Relative to the pyrotechnics in the earlier sonatas, it is far subtler in its demands on the pianist, though requiring imagination throughout, especially in its wittier moments. For this reason, one at times one wanted more contrast and projection from Ms. Splett, but her polish, as seen in the Medtner, was again outstanding. She showed such meticulous attention to the score that a keen, trained listener could probably take dictation from her performance and reproduce the exact score. This quality, along with choice of repertoire, may not easily gain the adulation of lazy or impatient audiences, but it should win the attention of purists and sincere musicians.

Schubert’s mature and meditative B-flat Sonata formed the second half of the program, another “last” of genre, composed in the final year of Schubert’s life. Ms. Splett handled it with what was starting to emerge as her signature serene polish, while also allowing the listener to plumb its depths in its darker moments. It was a fitting close to a unique and beautiful recital.

Once again, it is hard not to comment on how unusual it is for a pianist in the early years of a career to unify a program with what amounts to a theme of looking back in reflection. Understandably, many pianists play debuts that announce, “Here I come!” in displays of brilliance and drama designed to counter an attention deficit, but Ms. Splett is simply not one of them. It is not that she played it “safe” with her choices, as pianists who play these works well know, but that she simply put her program conception first, with intelligence, integrity and the perspective of an old soul. It was a memorable evening from a dedicated artist.

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

Yongmei Hu, pianist in Review

Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

May 22, 2011

Yongmei Hu

Leafing through the biographical notes of Yongmei Hu prior to her recent New York recital, I was struck not so much by the requisite litanies of achievements and accolades as by her charitable involvement, ranging from the children’s foundation, Alphabet Kids, to Musicians on Call, which brings music to hospitals (plus fundraisers for children with cancer and a performance with Melissa Etheridge at the Breast Cancer Symposium in Washington, D.C.). Despite a policy of ignoring things extra-musical or prejudicial while reviewing, it was hard not to appreciate the generous spirit in evidence here to match what turned out to be a lovely stage presence. The program listing of two of the finest works in the piano literature, Brahms’s Sonata, Op. 5, in F minor and Chopin’s Preludes, Op. 28, seemed to promise a perfect afternoon, but of course they present colossal challenges as well. In some ways Ms. Hu rose to those challenges, while in others, there was clearly room for growth.

One had to credit Ms. Hu for bravery in choosing to tackle the Brahms F minor Sonata, as the unwieldy stretches throughout did not seem ideally suited to her pianistic abilities. Some pianists overcome such challenges by taking a bit of extra time for reaching, something that even can enhance Brahmsian grandeur, but Ms. Hu tended to do the opposite, as if to get past these challenges quickly (the omission of the first movement repeat underscoring this haste). The result was more messiness than one is accustomed to hearing. Sometimes haste can start a cycle of distraction as well in the performer himself, and this distraction appeared to rattle even the much-loved Andante espressivo; one of the heavenly moments in piano writing is the gentle settling into D-flat major, but the pianist seemed to be anticipating a later section as she opened with a B-flat bass note. The presence of mind she showed was admirable, even playing another incorrect B-flat presumably to balance things out, but clearly something was amiss. While I am extremely lenient about missed notes in the “no holds barred” performance, there are certain errors that reflect more than an off day, suggesting possibly that one has not internalized a work sufficiently deeply or thoroughly. Some later hallowed passages did much to redeem this performance, but the rushing and lapses seemed inevitably to return, unfortunately marring even the last dozen or so bars. Perhaps some of the unsettled feeling may have stemmed from a virtual stampede of latecomers entering after the first movement, leaving Ms. Hu waiting at the keyboard interminably to start the second movement, but in any case one imagined the Chopin Preludes on the second half would enjoy a fresh start.

Much of the Chopin did indeed fare better. The C Major Prelude had a sure-fingered brightness, followed by good momentum in the A minor, albeit at the expense of some pathos. The left hand passagework of the G Major Prelude was a model of fleet and feathery lightness, though one wanted perhaps more singing quality in the right hand. The E minor Prelude was also one of the high points of the set; its tone, balance, and character projection were just right. The spirit in it carried through to some of the other preludes, much of the B minor (No. 6), E Major (No. 9), B Major (No. 11), D-flat Major (No. 15, “Raindrop”), and A-flat Major (No. 17). Low points, due to messiness or lack of thoroughness included the usual suspects, the g-sharp minor, which emerged as a series of downbeats in a hazy flurry and the fiendish B-flat minor, which simply went off the rails, as did the deceptively difficult E-flat Major. All could have prospered from being taken just a bit more slowly. Other reservations included a need for more phrase punctuation in the rather operatic F minor Prelude, plus some curious readings throughout; all finished well, however, with a solid and convincing ending to the final Prelude in D minor. Especially brilliant were the tricky chromatic thirds in which I’ve heard some very famous pianists struggle. Such fine moments led one to feel that, on a different day and given sufficient time to know each work more thoroughly, Ms. Hu would have a recital program to make musicians sit up and take notice.

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

Aglaia Koras, Pianist in Review

Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY

May 9, 2011

Aglia Koras

Aglaia Koras devotes much of her performing to the music of Frederic Chopin, and on May 9th, she continued her passion for his music with some Nocturnes, Mazurkas and Etudes, among others. This concert, performed for a packed audience, was presented by MidAmerica Productions. Koras played with elegance–particularly in slower, more serene works, and she performed impressively from memory.

The C-sharp minor Nocturne, Op. Posth., which opened the program, was played exquisitely and poetically. The same could be said of the A minor Mazurka, Op. 67, No. 4 that followed. There was lovely shading and phrasing in both the Barcarolle in F-sharp major, Op. 60 and in the Nocturne in D-flat major, Op. 27, No. 2.

In the Fantaisie-Impromptu in C-sharp minor, Op. 66, Koras could have played more clearly in faster passages, but her devoted, stormy playing was captivating indeed.

In the Polonaise in A-flat Major, Op. 53 (“Heroic”), agitated passages were slightly rushed,

and phrases were sometimes muddied due to over-pedaling. Nonetheless, her audience was very enthusiastic–and so was I, as her eloquence comes across as very heartfelt indeed. A special Kudos to Koras for her insightful programming as well; the “Harp” Etude in A-flat, Op. 25, No. 1 and the “Cello” Etude in C-sharp minor, Op. 25, No. 7 lent an air of orchestration to the evening. Even though Chopin was hardly a symphonist (he is considered to have been a rather uneducated orchestrator), he seemed to enjoy incorporating instrumental sonorities–either consciously or subconsciously–into his piano works.

This season–according to biographical notes–Koras has been invited to perform with the St. Petersburg (Russia) Symphony Orchestra and to perform again with the Beethoven Festival Orchestra at the Kennedy Center Concert Hall. In recent seasons, she was invited to perform an all-Chopin recital in Mexico City and at the Wolf Trap Ball, among other appearances. Clearly, Chopin is in her blood, and audiences consistently fill Weill Recital Hall to hear her play his music.

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

Lori Sims, Pianist in Review

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall; New York, NY

May 7, 2011

Lori Sims

Pianist William Masselos (1920-1992) was honored in a most special way this past weekend, in a tribute piano recital by Lori Sims, presented by the organization Hausmusik. Widely recognized not only as a great pianist in diverse repertoire but as a particularly important champion of twentieth-century American piano music, Mr. Masselos is also fondly remembered by those of us who were at Juilliard during his tenure there as something of an unsung hero — despite his countless enviable achievements. One applauds Hausmusik for paying tribute and also for choosing Lori Sims, a pianist of prodigious abilities, to do so.

Each work on the program related in some way to William Masselos, at times in exact repertoire matches, notably Ben Weber’s Fantasia (Variations), and at other times through subtler connections, well-explained in the pianist’s thoughtful program notes. Rather than playing the “six degrees of separation” game, I prefer to focus on Ms. Sims, whose own personal connections to each work were evident from the first notes onward, and whose masterful readings obviated the need for any extraneous “raison d’etre.”

First off, Ms. Sims gave an extremely taut, precise, and intelligent performance of Copland’s Piano Variations. With an energy that suggested she was spring-loaded, she brought the work electricity and clarity. Nerves of steel are to be expected from a pianist who has won major competitions, including the Gina Bachauer 1998 Gold Medal, but hers are exceptional, unruffled even by the blaring of loud vocal music from some unknown source during her first entrance onstage. The intensity never let up, and Ben Weber’s Fantasia was another tour de force, this time exploiting the pianist’s gift for more romantic, lush sonorities. What Ms. Sims likened to “Scriabin’s neurotic energy” seemed to abound, and one could only be astounded that after this Weber and the Copland, there were still three Griffes “Roman Sketches” and Barber’s monumental Piano Sonata yet to come (to complete an hour-long “first half”).

The Griffes pieces did provide some impressionistic relief from the musical tension, but only for the audience, as the pianistic demands simply shifted to a different kind of artistry. “The White Peacock” requires a special languid sensuality, and Ms. Sims brought it out to a tee. “The Fountain of Acqua Paola” needs streaming showers of delicacy, expertly colored, and it had just that. “Clouds” had no less mesmerizing an effect.

The Barber Sonata, showing not a trace of fatigue, was sure-fire. While it may not have been this listener’s all-time favorite performance of the work, it was an amazingly polished, assertive close to a first half of mammoth difficulty. Perhaps if one had to pinpoint a reservation about it, it would be that Ms. Sims has such a formidable technique that she made short work of some of its heroic climaxes. In the fourth movement Fugue especially, my favorite performances let loose with an almost ferocious abandon toward the close. Ms. Sims could perhaps be called “unostentatious” (as the honoree, Mr. Masselos, was described by Harold Schonberg), but one wanted to share in the sense of triumph and release that she had so richly earned.

The program’s second part was made up of Clara Schumann’s Romances, Op. 11, Nos. 1 and 3, and Robert Schumann’s Fantasy, Op. 17. These works showed great sensitivity, thoughtfulness, and fervor, and there were many moments of nearly transcendent beauty. Somehow, though, the truly indelible impression was made on this listener by the twentieth-century works. Ms. Sims showed that she has a rare gift for bringing audiences closer to these works, and it is a gift that should continue taking her to new musical heights.

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

Alexander Beridze, pianist in Review

Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, New York, NY

April 19, 2011

A large audience packed Alice Tully Hall this week to hear Georgian pianist, Alexander Beridze, representing the Cincinnati-based World Piano Competition as its 2009 Gold Medalist. In a year flooded with news stories about troubles in the classical music world, it was a joy to witness such intense audience excitement in anticipation of an evening of piano music. This listener was filled with particularly keen anticipation after hearing and reviewing Mr. Beridze in June of 2009 (Vol 17, No.1) in an outstanding recital that included two of the same works, the Brahms Sonata in C Major, Op. 1 and Stravinsky’s Three Movements from Petrushka. Though the prior venue had been a piano showroom, Mr. Beridze had sustained the large, magnetic conceptions that had seemed destined for a wider forum – and here was that forum.

After speeches by the competition’s administrative and local leaders, Mr. Beridze opened with Beethoven’s 32 Variations in C Minor, dispelling the atmosphere of pageantry with a taut and no-nonsense performance from solemn opening to stirring finish. While I prefer more breathing room in this work, it was understandable to feel a good deal of forward propulsion at the outset of this important recital. It was a strong opening.

Brahms followed Beethoven, a nice segue given the Opus 1’s famous rhythmic kinship with Beethoven’s Sonata Op. 106 (the “Hammerklavier”). Mr. Beridze is utterly at home with the challenges and beauties of this Brahms work and should play it often. One hopes he will play it again in a still more resonant hall, as (even post-renovation) the Alice Tully Hall acoustics present a pianist with the challenge of rapidly decaying sound. Having heard Mr. Beridze’s formidable gifts in a live room on a brighter instrument, this listener was especially sensitized to the discrepancy between what was being put forth and what was being received. That said, the musical intent did come across, and it was a credit to Mr. Beridze’s skill and heroic outputs of energy. The rapid-fire leaps and riveting machine wrist work left one in wonderment (and excitement to hear this pianist’s Petrushka later in the program). Just as recalled from two years ago, the close of the Andante was particularly moving.

Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 90, No. 3 after intermission was a quiet gem, given admirable attention to voicing. Acoustical challenges still arose, leaving one wondering whether the decay of longer notes might be offset more by softer ensuing ones, but at any rate, Mr. Beridze projected its meditative quality with sensitivity. The Schubert-Liszt song “Auf dem Wasser zu Singen” followed, dazzling with its precision and range, and Liszt’s Etude “La Campanella” was simply electrifying.

If anyone still had questions about Mr. Beridze being a fabulous pianist, his Petrushka settled the matter conclusively. This work, a monstrous beast to most pianists, seemed simply a play toy to him, albeit a musical and imaginative play toy. One sensed the pianist having fun with it, delighting in the ballet’s characters and celebrating what was a brilliant finale to a superb recital. Bravo!

The cheering audience was quieted down with one of the most beautiful renditions of the Chopin Nocturne in D-flat (Op. 27, No. 2) that one can recall. One could hear the proverbial pin drop.

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

Alexej Gorlatch, Pianist in Review

Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall

April 14, 2011

Alexej Gorlatch; Photo Credit: Akira Muto

Judy and Arthur Zankel Hall, part of the Carnegie Hall complex, presented Alexej Gorlatch on April 14^th as the First Prize winner of the AXA Dublin International Piano Competition. Gorlatch, who is 22 (born in Kiev, in 1988), was also the Silver Medalist at the 2009 Leeds International in the U.K., where his performance of Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto elicited a glowing comment from the Guardian (Manchester): “…immaculate in its poetry and aggression.” Those two characteristics, when you think of them, are more apt than conflicting for that particular Beethoven masterpiece; certainly Gorlatch’s technically superb pianism at the Zankel recital was impressive for its “poetry” but, let’s face it: any hopeful who could enter–and triumph–at so many daunting marathons would, ipso facto, be an “aggressive” and determined, self-assured contender!

Mr. Gorlatch’s burgeoning career has been adorned by a succession of prizes and honors since he was eleven-years-old. To name some: the German National Jugend Musiziert Competition (several times); the Steinway Competitions of Berlin and Hamburg; the Grotien Steinweg in Braunachweig; and the Robert Schumann Competition for Young Pianists in Zwickau, where he was awarded the Yehudi Menuhin Prize for best participant. He garnered prizes at the Vladimir Horowitz International Competition in Kiev and at the Chopin International in Warsaw.

In fact, this writer covered the then 18-year-old artist’s April 4, 2007 recital at Weill Hall when he came to us as the winner of the 2006 Hamamatsu International Competition (reviewed in Volume 14, No. 3 of this magazine.) His program at the time included the Beethoven Sonata, Op. 101, Schumann’s Fantasy Pieces, Op. 12, and all twelve Chopin Etudes, Op. 10. I praised his Beethoven as “structurally clear, tautly organized and sensibly clarified…a young man’s approach…Though additional areas of experience and insight may undoubtedly reveal spiritual mysteries, Gorlatch’s way was certainly on the right track.” The Schumann tone poems were “thoroughly idiomatic: clearly and simply phrased and free from affetuoso point-making… His playing represented the best of the best of the admirable Teutonic tradition (Gorlatch has been living and studying in Germany), with warm, robust down-to-the-bottom-of-the-keys sonority, yet with sufficient glow and color and ardent rhythmic vitality.” At that time, I was not quite so contented with Gorlatch’s performances of the Chopin Etudes: “Having praised his purposefulness, it seems churlish to remark that I wish he would loosen up a bit. Playing a concert also has a side potential for entertainment, and although I certainly don’t want ‘cuteness’ and pandering to an audience, I daresay that there is room for a bit of drama and communication…Mr. Gorlatch is obviously a great talent, but as he develops, he will realize that a performer can also be communicative and be fun to listen to…’’ That was when he was 18.

I am particularly pleased to report that at this concert–four years later–he showed just the type of growth I would hope for (and expect) from an already promising artist. His performances of Beethoven’s Op. 110, Bartok’s “Out of Doors”, Four Debussy Preludes and a Chopin group had far more nuance, flexibility, color, and humor. The Beethoven sonata was notable for its almost operatic cantabile, and the pianist brought out innumerable, cherishable passing felicities. I am a bit surprised, however, that he chose to divide the runs in the first movement between the hands (as Beethoven himself calls for in the E major recapitulation later on), but this is a miniscule quibble.

The Bartok had great sensitivity and a feeling of detached understatement. The accuracy and precision were indeed awesome, although the requisite calm and repose of “The Night’s Music”’s insect noises were judiciously recreated against an unusual backdrop of anxious momentum. The opening “With Drums and Pipes” and the culminating “The Chase” were unusually subtle, but a bit too refined. Gorlatch’s way with the Bartok reminded me of Perahia’s sensitive interpretation.

One could say the same thing about the Debussy which–high praise indeed–were in the Gieseking tradition. He elicited a beguiling fragrance in “Les Sons et Parfumes Tournent dans du Soir” (from Book II) and an almost troubadour like declamation of “La Fille aux Cheveux de Lin” that made it seem it was being improvised on the spot. For once, “Feux d’Artifice” (Book ll) sounded decorative and entertaining (not the usual bombastic firecrackers that burn your hands!). “Ce qu a vu le vent d’Quest” (Book l) similarly may have been more notable for its delicacy than its Katrina-like ferocity; but its sophistication ultimately won me over.

In the concluding Chopin group, the “Barcarolle”–a bit laid-back at first–did summon a modicum of drama; the ending run was terrific. Four Mazurkas from Op. 67 and 68 were undulant and dance-like; (the A minor, Op. 68, with its trills, was played “Lento”– a slow dance, not “Lento” as a dirge); I liked its curvaceousness. The A-flat Polonaise, Op. 53, a mite small-scaled for my taste, was almost too easy for him; the famous octaves went by astonishingly and fleetly well. (But Rubinstein’s sui generis interpretation will always stubbornly retain my loyal affection).

And I am delighted to observe: Mr. Gorlatch’s new stage presence has livened up gratifying well. He gave us two encores: the c-sharp minor Etude, Op. 10, No. 4 was almost Richter-like in its brilliance and headlong tempo; and the E-flat Waltz, Op. 1 came forth with intoxicating dazzle.

A wonderful concert!

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

Katarzyna Musial, Pianist in Review

The Kosciuszko Foundation; New York, NY

April 3, 2011

Katarzyna Musial

Under the auspices of the Kosciuszko Foundation, Polish-Canadian pianist Katarzyna Musial gave a colorful and varied Sunday afternoon program that included Messiaen, Chopin, Lutoslawski, and Mussorgsky. Possessing a lovely stage presence , Ms. Musial also chose well for her opening works: two Messiaen Preludes, “La colombe” and “Un reflet dans le vent.” The pianist entered with fluency and ease into the ethereal harmonic colors of the French master, and although she encountered a somewhat bright and inconsistent instrument—in a hall with bright acoustics to boot—she achieved good results. The second Prelude was shimmering and brilliant; I would love to hear Ms. Musial perform all the Messiaen Preludes, as she has a natural affinity for this music.

The next selections by her fellow Polish musician Lutoslawski were equally impressive. Bukoliki, five folk-inspired pieces totaling about five minutes, are in a similar vein to some of Bartok’s miniatures and are sometimes treated condescendingly as folk trifles. What I liked about Ms. Musial’s interpretations, though, was that she plumbed the Bukoliki’s emotional depths, imbuing them with warmth. It is good to remind listeners that small pieces can carry large emotions and she did just that.

The Chopin Sonata that followed, Op. 35 in B-flat minor, was a bit disappointing after such a promising beginning. It is difficult to plunge into what is nicknamed the “Funeral March Sonata” (for obvious reasons) on one of the first beautiful spring days of the year. Perhaps concentration was a challenge, but there seemed a lack of involvement, a somewhat lackluster approach to the stunning drama of the work, plus there was a memory lapse or two that must have rattled Ms. Musial further. It also may not have helped that the piano in the Kosciuszko Foundation auditorium is quite different from register to register. The left hand seemed to overwhelm the right and some of the transcendent treble lines were not sustained with the necessary cantabile sound. One knows that Ms. Musial can sustain emotional interest in singing lines, as she had shown in some of the slower parts of Lutoslawski and Messiaen, but one hoped for more in the Chopin. The last movement, likened to “wind over the graveyard”, resembled a heavily pedaled etude, needing more of the atmosphere that the Messiaen had.

If one started wondering whether Ms. Musial’s strongest niche might be in the more programmatic, impressionistic, or coloristic repertoire such as her Messiaen, her second half of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” reinforced that idea. The movement from “Il Vecchio Castello” was wonderfully evocative; “Tuileries” was vividly detailed; and “Ballet of the Unhatched Chicks” was a pure delight, fleet-fingered and energetic. The Promenade sections were in general solid and, with the exception of some messiness in “The Hut on Fowl’s Legs” by Baba-Yagá, the work was a good close to what was all in all a fine and promising recital.

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