Texas Tech University School of Music and Manhattan Concert Productions in Review

Texas Tech University School of Music and Manhattan Concert Productions
Present From Lubbock to Carnegie Hall
Featuring the winners
Elizabeth Hott, soprano, Meg Griffith, flute
Bill Waterman, tuba, Ji Yang, piano
Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall
April 16, 2011

Meg Griffith

If these four young musicians, selected by audition from the 500 music majors of Texas Tech University, are representative of its graduate students, the University can be proud of its Music School and the talent it attracts. Each performer presented a group of contrasting works, and all were daring enough to begin with a dazzling bravura piece.  

Meg Griffith is an excellent flutist, winner of numerous honors and awards for her performances of Baroque and contemporary music, including first prize of the Chicago Flute Club National Chamber Competition and the Concerto Competition at Texas Tech. She is coordinator and assistant program chair of the National Flute Association’s 2011 Convention, and is currently a doctoral student as teaching assistant under Dr. Lisa Garner Santa at Texas Tech; her former teachers include Dr. Mary Karen Clardy, Prof. John Heiss, and Dr. Lee Lattimore. Partnered by pianist Lora Deahl (a faculty member), Ms. Griffith performed three works by composers from different countries and generations, all characteristic of their creators’ styles. The Scherzo for flute and piano by the Czech composer Bohuslav Martinu (1890-1959) was fleet and brilliant; written mostly in Martinu’s favorite stratospheric register, it sparkled with sunlit cheer. Playing at breakneck speed, Ms. Griffith combined  easy facility with total control. Morceau de Concours by Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924) radiated calm serenity and impressionist colors, giving Ms. Griffith a fine opportunity to exhibit her    beautiful, singing tone. In the Sonata Op. 23 by Lowell Liebermann (b.1961), she captured and brought out the contrasts between the slow, flexible first and the fast, vigorous second movements.  

Elizabeth Hott, with pianist Regina Shea, displayed a powerful coloratura soprano and much charm in a brilliant aria from a Rossini opera, and the “Jewel Song” from Gounod’s “Faust.” They flanked “The Wind,” by Samuel Adler (b. 1928), and two mournful, lyrical Schumann songs on Goethe poems (better known in Schubert’s settings). Ms. Hott sang all these works in the original languages.   

Playing with a pure, mellow tone and astonishing agility, Bill Waterman made a strong case for the tuba as a solo instrument. In Encounters II for solo tuba by William Kraft (b. 1923), the tuba’s lowest and highest registers engaged in a spirited exchange. Pianist Susan Wass joined Mr. Waterman for the bleak, gloomy slow movement of the Tuba Concerto “War and the Rumors of War” by Barbara York (b. 1949), and Walter Hilgers’ arrangement of that popular violin showpiece, Monti’s Czardas.  Ill-suited to the tuba, it inevitably lacked the lightness of the original, despite Mr. Waterman’s virtuosity.  

 Pianist Ji Yang, a teaching assistant at the University, performed Lowell Liebermann’s Gargoyles Op. 29, and the Toccata Op. 155 by York Bowen (1884-1961). Played to the hilt for bravura and powerful sonorities, they made an enormously  effective ending.  

Today, it is quite customary to play from the score, especially in new music, but performers should be aware that, if they place their music stands directly in front of them, the audience cannot see them and some of their sound is cut off.  

The printed program gave no information about the accompanists, who were excellent and deserved more credit.

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

Camerata Ireland in Review

Camerata Ireland in Review
Barry Douglas, music director and piano
Celine Byrne, soprano
Zankel Hall at Carnegie Hall, New York, NY
March 5, 2011
 

Camerata Ireland

Every now and then, amid the hectic New York concert season, there is an evening that reminds me how much I love my reviewing job; the chamber orchestra Camerata Ireland, on a US tour through March, provided just such an occasion last weekend in a perfectly magical concert that coupled Irish music with works by Mozart (a surprisingly winning combination). At the center of it all was pianist, arranger, and conductor, Barry Douglas, a musical titan whose energy is transmitted in life-affirming performances.

In a rather unassuming opening, Mr. Douglas and the orchestra played his own arrangements of two Nocturnes of John Field (1782-1837), Nos. 1 and 5, originally for solo piano. The orchestrations were tasteful and spare. Though my preference is still for the more intimate originals, it was a natural to give the orchestra some music of Field, as he was one of the first important composers from Ireland, welcomed in Russia for decades with perhaps the same fervor as was Barry Douglas himself as victor in the 1986 Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow. It would be interesting to hear Mr. Douglas with the Camerata Ireland in one of Field’s Piano Concerti (or even just a movement, say, the Larghetto of the Sixth Concerto).

Rising star Celine Byrne joined the orchestra to sing “Porgi Amor” from Mozart’s “Le Nozze di Figaro.”  Composed when John Field would have been around four years old, it enjoyed a fresh hearing from this listener, because of both the fascinating program sequence and Ms. Byrne’s excellent performance. Her full, pure sound and lovely presence will make her one to follow.

Mr. Douglas moved from the role of operatic conductor to that of piano soloist (conducting from the bench) in Mozart’s Piano Concerto in A Major, K. 488 (also composed in 1786). One of the best pianists I’ve seen in this dual role, Douglas drew perfect responsiveness from his orchestra. One marveled in the first movement at how clearly he projected his conception physically and musically so that there were no seams in the ensemble; one marveled perhaps more, though, at how he could create (while multi-tasking) a realm of utter introspection in the breathtaking Adagio. The final movement had just the right edge-of-the seat energy to leave the audience clamoring for more.

After intermission came two traditional Irish folk songs (again arranged by Mr. Douglas), “I Wish I Was in Carrickfergus” and “Last Rose of Summer” sung by soprano Celine Byrne (who had changed from a black dress into a brilliant emerald green). These were skillfully arranged and expressively sung, but the best Douglas arrangements of the evening were “Druid Dances” by Edward Bunting (1773-1843). Perhaps not having to incorporate piano filigree or to accommodate a vocal part was liberating, but whatever the case, Douglas arranged this set with unfettered orchestral imagination, alternating sentimental song with freewheeling fun.

Returning to Mozart (who shared a good 18 years on this earth with Bunting) the orchestra then gave a knockout performance of the Symphony No. 40 in G Minor to close the evening. Starting the work more briskly than one usually hears it (with Douglas barely arriving onstage before the opening upbeat), they gave a performance that was nonetheless well articulated, cohesive, and commanding all the way through to the exciting end. Audience members jumped to their feet in passionate ovation. Some of this reaction may have been to the conductor’s “rock star” charisma, and some of it may have been gratitude for a great performance, but either way, everyone won.

Douglas and the orchestra gave an encore of Phil Coulter’s touching “Home Away from Home,” which I heard last when I reviewed them in March, 2008 (NY Concert Review Volume 15, No. 2). This time was even more beautiful. Can they possibly outdo themselves next time? I for one won’t miss finding out.

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

New York Philharmonic

New York Philharmonic
Alan Gilbert, conductor
Christine Brewer, soprano; Jane Henschel, mezzo-soprano; Anthony Dean Griffey, tenor; Eric Owens, bass-baritone; New York Choral Artists: Joseph Flummerfelt, director
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
June 26, 2010

 

Alan Gilbert

Alan Gilbert

Alan Gilbert’s first season as the New York Philharmonic’s Music Director ended as adventurously as it had begun, with a premiere commissioned for the occasion. Both were written by Magnus Lindberg, the Orchestra’s newly-installed Composer-in-Residence; the first was titled EXPO!, the second Al largo. The composer provides the best description of his own music: “Only the extreme is interesting. Striving for a balanced totality is now an impossibility….” In Al largo—(meaning “offshore”)—a big orchestra with a huge percussion section produces a great, joyful noise with many brass fanfares and a multitude of instrumental colors, but without any discernible form or structure.

The main work on the program was well suited to demonstrate Gilbert’s ambitious, wide-ranging plans for his orchestra, and to celebrate the successful close of his first season: Beethoven’s Missa solemnis, Op. 123, one of the greatest, most formidable works in the literature.

The Missa has a singular history. Begun in 1819, it was intended, in Beethoven’s words, “to contribute to the glorification of the day” when his friend and patron, Archduke Rudolph of Austria, was invested as Archbishop of Olmütz. However, the Missa was far from ready to be performed at the ceremony a year later; indeed, Beethoven wrestled with it longer than with any other composition. Not until 1823 did he consider it finished, having in the meantime written his last three piano sonatas, and worked on the “Diabelli” Variations and the Ninth Symphony.

This unusually long period of gestation and contemplation could not but affect the nature of the work. Alan Gilbert thinks that what makes it so difficult to understand and perform is, at least in part, the dichotomy between its sacred and secular elements. But one might also say that it is the music itself that baffles and overwhelms both listeners and performers. It shows Beethoven at his emotionally most profound, his spiritually most sublime, and his intellectually and technically most intractable. Everything is driven to excess: the extreme changes of mood and expression; the constant shifts of meter, tempo, and dynamics; the abrupt swings from lyricism to drama, and from humble pleading to heaven-storming ecstasy. If Beethoven had any weaknesses, they lay in his vocal writing and his counterpoint, and the Missa naturally abounds in both. As in the Ninth Symphony, chorus and soloists are driven into the stratosphere for unsustainably long stretches; the fugues – and there are many – are so complex that they seem to get tangled up like coils of barbed wire. At times, even Gilbert’s usually unfailing sense of balance and textural clarity was defeated by the dense, overloaded score.  No wonder the work is heard so rarely.

The Philharmonic’s performance must have been one of the best in recent memory. Orchestra and chorus, meticulously prepared, were precise, secure, and emotionally involved; among the vocal soloists, the soprano was outstanding; the rest were good, though not well matched: the bass and alto were too subdued, the tenor was too heroic. Concertmaster Glenn Dicterow played his big solo in the Benedictus brilliantly, but his tone was too unremittingly intense.

The concert’s real hero was Alan Gilbert. His beat, as always, was clear and decisive; his transitions and tempo changes were admirably smooth and organic; his mastery of this immensely complex score, from the smallest detail to its monumental over-all structure, was prodigious; he led his enormous forces with the natural authority born of a thorough knowledge and deeply felt love of the music.

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

Live from the MET: Simone Boccanegra

Live from the MET : “Simone Boccanegra”
James Levine, conductor
Placido Domingo, baritone, as Simone Boccanegra 
Adrianne Pieczonka, soprano, as Amelia
Marcello Giordani, tenor, as Gabriele Adorno  
James Morris, bass-baritone, as Jacopo Fiesco
Metropolitan Opera, New York, NY
PBS Telecast
June 20, 2010

Placido Domingo - Photo Credit Brent Ness -

All New York’s music lovers, especially those with difficulties getting around, owe a debt of gratitude to Channel 13 for its “Live from Lincoln Center” series: these telecasts are the closest they can get to the concerts and operas they love. The latest “Live from the MET” telecast, taped in February and broadcast on June 20th, presented the new production of Verdi’s “Simone Boccanegra” with Placido Domingo making his debut as a baritone in the title role. Audience expectations ran high, though Domingo has often mentioned that his vocal roots are in the middle register and blossomed into the upper one later. Indeed his voice has always had a remarkably warm, baritonal quality, and, since voices tend to darken with age, he is perhaps merely encouraging a natural vocal development. Nevertheless, after a lifetime as one of the world’s most beloved tenors, taking such a drastic step requires extraordinary courage, and its stunning success makes it an extraordinary achievement.   

Domingo’s decision to undertake his first foray into new territory in this vocally and emotionally challenging, complex role was daring but understandable. As Boccanegra, he has moved from portraying an impulsive, young, romantic tenor (like Gabriele Adorno in “Boccanegra”) to a historical character of his own age and maturity. The real Boccanegra was a famous pirate who was twice elected Doge of Genoa; in the opera, he grows from a frustrated lover determined to prove himself a worthy suitor, to an enlightened statesman determined to bring peace and justice to his people.  

Adrianne Pieczonka, Placido Domingo and Marcello Giordani - Photo Credit Brent Ness

Verdi wrote “Boccanegra” in 1857; it was a failure: audiences found Piave’s libretto confusing, and the long recitatives boring. In 1881, Verdi revised it, like many of his operas; with a lot of new music and a new text by Boito, it was a resounding success, though the libretto still had weaknesses: the characters’ actions and reactions remained baffling and unbelievable, and events predating the drama were sketched so cursorily that audiences cannot possibly grasp them. 

  

The opera takes place in 14th-century Genoa against a background of convoluted political and personal conflicts that generate misunderstandings, belated revelations and eventual tragedy. But Verdi was less interested in affairs of state than affairs of the heart, and dramatized the characters’ relationships with wonderful duets – not only between soprano and tenor in the obligatory love-duets, but also between basses and baritones in confrontations and reconciliations.  

 This is a dark opera, dramatically, visually and musically. After an orchestral prelude, played primarily by the lowest strings and winds, the curtain rises on two basses hatching a plot at night. Fiesco, the leading bass, enters, lamenting his daughter’s death. Then Boccanegra, her lover and the father of their illegitimate child, appears; Fiesco hates him, and, in a passionate duet, rebuffs his plea to resolve their enmity. Fast forward 25 years. Boccanegra discovers his long-lost daughter, Amelia; they rejoice, but he inexplicably insists on keeping their relationship secret; soon after, he learns that she loves Adorno, his political enemy. The central scene is set in the Council Chamber. The Doge is trying to persuade the fractious nobles and plebeians to make peace with each other and with Venice; when a riot breaks out in the street, he quells it by sheer force of personality. Meanwhile, Paolo, a vengeful courtier, pours poison into Boccanegra’s water-jug, initiating what must be one of the longest operatic death-scenes: after staggering around (and frequently falling) while singing incredibly difficult music, Boccanegra finally makes peace with Fiesco in another great duet.  

The production, conducted by James Levine, is most impressive—visually and musically: the scenery is simple and evocative, the orchestra is splendid as usual, though sometimes too subdued when accompanying the singers; the cast is strong. Verdi did not make things easy for the singers: several start off with a big, demanding aria, requiring some warming up. Adrianne Pieczonka is a beautiful but vocally uneven Amelia; James Morris, in excellent voice, is a majestic Fiesco, Stefan Gaertner a baleful Paolo. Marcello Giordani’s Adorno is heroic in more ways than one: it must take courage to share the stage with the singer who owned your role, yet he seemed inspired rather than intimidated. But it was Domingo who, in the best sense, dominated the stage. He inhabited his part completely, radiating a natural authority that seemed to make everyone more confident and secure. Though his top notes are understandably superior to his low ones, his voice is as focused, expressive and intense as ever. Rarely has there been a more triumphant debut.  

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

An Evening of American Song: “And If the Song Be Worth a Smile”

An Evening of American Song:
“And If the Song Be Worth a Smile”
Lisa Delan, soprano
Kristin Pankonin, piano
Matt Haimovitz, cello
The Allen Room, Frederick P. Rose Hall, Jazz at Lincoln Center
May 21, 2010, New York, NY

This concert of songs by six living American composers was presented by PentaTone Classics to celebrate its release of Lisa Delan’s recording of the program, also entitled “And if the Song be Worth a Smile.” Three of the composers – Gordon Getty, David Garner, and Luna Pearl Woolf – were present; Woolf’s cycle was written for Ms. Delan and her pianist, Kristin Pankonin, whose empathetic support contributed greatly to the evening’s success.

Lisa Delan

Lisa Delan

Of the Three Folk Songs arranged by Jake Heggie (b. 1961), two were plaintive, one was cheeky and chattering. The accompaniments underlined the melodies’ mood and character, but were often too elaborate. “Cabaret Songs” by William Bolcom (b. 1938), on texts by Arnold Weinstein, evoked sensuousness, inebriation, and yearning.

“Odas de Todo Mundo” (“Odes for Everyone”) by Luna Pearl Woolf (1973), to poems by Pablo Neruda and sung in Spanish, were commissioned by Ms. Delan. The music mirrored the mercurial changes of the poetry – Latin dance rhythms, descriptions of nature and the human condition – and ended in a blaze of exuberance. The performers were joined by the composer’s husband, cellist Matt Haimovitz, renowned for his masterful playing and his multi-faceted career. Once a famously talented prodigy, he is now a versatile, communicative artist; in a demanding part tailored to his virtuosity and beautiful tone, he added intense, compelling power to the performance.

Three Cabaret Songs by Corigliano (b. 1938) to poems by Mark Adamo poked fun at various aspects of the musical experience, punning on the atonalists’ tone-rows, parodying the latest electronic recording device, lampooning the transformation of the friendly neighborhood record store into an impersonal coffee-bar. The songs sounded less “cabaret”-influenced than Bolcom’s, but, like much of Corigliano’s music, bore traces of many other styles. Though Mss. Delan and Pankonin had performed the songs separately, this was the complete set’s premiere.

Getty (b. 1933) wrote his own poetry for his three-song cycle, “Poor Peter:” a pensive love song, a rollicking dance with surprising, quirky rhythms, and a mournful, pleading ballad sung by an old beggar (recalling the blind “Harpist” of Goethe and Schubert). Words and music mimicked the style of Merrie Olde England, with words like “easterly” and “southerly.” The program’s title is taken from the third song.

The seven-song cycle “Phenomenal Woman” by Garner (1954) incorporated jazz, blues, rock and cabaret styles. The proudly feminist poems by Maya Angelou ranged from defiance, protest, and tongue-in-cheek self-promotion to religious fervor and resignation.

Lisa Delan has made these songs entirely her own, textually and musically. Her voice encompasses a wide range and she can color and inflect it for mood and expression. Her excellent diction was especially important in the humorous songs. She used “light” amplification to reflect the sound back to the performers; this made it difficult to fully judge the quality of her voice, and probably caused some shrillness in the topmost register and some imbalance with the instruments. She was most persuasive in the slow, lyrical, pensive songs; the fast, skittish ones seemed least suited to her voice and stage presence.

The audience’s warm response proved that all the songs were worth a smile, so Mr. Haimovitz returned for an encore: Ms. Woolf’s trio arrangement of Getty’s “The Going from a World We Know.”

Makers, dealers, and experts in violins, violas, 'cellos, and their bows

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

Richard Strauss Duo Recital

Richard Strauss Duo Recital
Sharon Cheng, soprano and Michael Fennelly, piano
Jennifer Grimaldi, soprano and Max Midoit, piano
Bechstein Piano Centre, New York City
May 4, 2010

What a pleasure it was to hear two fine sopranos, accompanied by two sensitive pianists, skillfully performing the glorious songs of Richard Strauss in a well-lit intimate setting. This year, I have attended many vocal recitals in dimly-lit major concert halls where established artists sang numerous sets of obscure and forgettable songs by great composers. But tonight, we heard fourteen Strauss songs, and there wasn’t a weak one amongst them. And our pleasure hearing these songs was enhanced by the fact that there was enough light to comfortably read the written program, with its fine notes and the original German poems written along side their English translations.

To get to the performing space of the Bechstein Centre, one enters through the piano showroom. Walking among these storied instruments is a wonderful way of transitioning between the hurly-burly of midtown Manhattan and the anticipated vocal recital to follow. A left turn takes one to the performance space. Against the right wall are many upright pianos, in the front a raised stage with a large Bechstein Grand. It was sad that there were so few people in the audience to hear this fine recital.

The recital began with a performance by soprano Sharon Cheng, who sang four of the five Brentano Lieder, Opus 68. Ms. Cheng, whose vivid red dress appropriately reflected the vocal fireworks she produced, possesses an exciting and securely produced voice which grows more and more thrilling as she moves into the stratospheric parts of a soprano’s range.The high point of the set was her performance of the last song, Amor. Ms. Cheng nailed this show stopper’s very, very high notes with ease.


Sharon Cheng, soprano
Jennifer Grimaldi, soprano
Michael Fennelly, pianist

We then heard Jennifer Grimaldi, whose more somber black dress reflected her beautifully phrased and emotionally intense performance of three of Strauss’s most famous songs, Allerseelen, Morgen, and Cäcilie. Many singers seem to be afraid of singing the “hit tunes,” perhaps feeling that they will have “nothing new to say.” But performances such as Ms. Grimaldi’s, deeply felt and expressed through beautiful sounds, thrill us even though we have heard these songs so many times before. Michael Fennelly and Max Midoit were the sensitive and supportive accompanists. That they were sometimes a bit too loud was a function of the very lively performance space and the powerful Bechstein Grand upon which they were playing.

After intermission, Ms. Cheng performed the Brentano Lied she omitted on the first half. She concluded her set with wonderful performances of Ständchen and Kling, showing that she too was not afraid to sing the “hit tunes.” Many young singers often don’t program the “hit tunes” because they are afraid that their performances will be compared to those of established stars living or dead. But both Cheng and Grimaldi were up to the task. I urge all singers to forget about how someone else has performed a song. The great ones stand up to repeated performances. It’s the mediocre ones that one should be wary of. The recital ended with a most moving performance of the Vier letzte Lieder, sung by Jennifer Grimaldi.

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

Mareda Gaither-Graves, soprano / Warren George Wilson, piano

Mareda Gaither-Graves, soprano / Warren George Wilson, piano
Merkin Concert Hall, New York, NY
October 24, 2009
 

An adoring audience braved a very heavy rain to attend this concert by soprano Mareda Gaither-Graves. They were amply rewarded. The recital began with a thrilling performance of Beethoven’s concert aria “Ah! perfido.” This is a very demanding work, one in which the soloist is asked to exhibit many aspects of the singers art. And Ms. Gaither-Graves was more than up to the task. She is secure in all part of her range and her voice is well supported at all dynamic levels, from floating pianissimos to spine-tingling fortissimos.

The Beethoven was followed by three songs, one each by William Grant Still, Howard Swanson and Margaret Bonds. Ms. Gaither-Graves performed these works with deep feeling and perfect diction. The set was entitled “People of Color Speak,” and, in the written program, the audience was told that the songs were “to be sung without pause.” And no applause interrupted the set. But since “to be sung without pause” never appeared again, an unintended consequence was that the audience felt free to applaud after every subsequent song. This applause, although deserved and heartfelt, interrupted the flow of the concert.

The rest of the first half was devoted to German Lieder, three by Joseph Marx and three by Richard Strauss.  Again we heard beautiful sounds, clear diction and total commitment to expressing the meaning of the poetry. Memorable moments during the Marx set were the ringing high notes during “Hat dich die Liebe berührt,” and the beautiful soft singing in “Selige Nacht.” Warren George Wilson was a fine accompanist, but he sometimes played a bit too loudly. His page turner, Mrs. Marjorie Landsmark-DeLewis, was graciously acknowledged on the program – a first in my many years of concert-going.

The works on the second half, although sung as well as what was performed before intermission, were just not as interesting musically. And all of the four songs by Ernest Chausson were alike in mood and tempo. Yet Ms. Gaither-Graves’ beautiful phrasing at the end of the second song, “Le Colibri” (The Humming-Bird), was for me one of the evening’s high points. The slow tempi continued during the first three of the four songs by the Russian composer Yuri Falik (b.1936.) But then a fast song, “A Ringing Day,” brought the concert to a rousing conclusion,

After prolonged standing ovations, Ms. Gaither-Graves presented two encores, Miguel Sandoval’s “Lament (Vocalise)” and Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s “Life and Death.”

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