Author: Philip Gardner

Elīna Garanča ~ MET Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

Above: mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča

~ Author: Oberon

Friday June 14th, 2019 – This evening, The MET Orchestra paired Mahler’s marvelous Rückert Lieder with Anton Bruckner’s sprawling 7th symphony. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was on the podium, and the soloist for the Mahler was Elīna Garanča.

As Ms. Garanča, in a strikingly Spring-like white gown, and the conductor made their way center-stage, the mezzo towered over the maestro. M. Nézet-Séguin wore a clingy white shirt that seemed calculated to show off his physique; it looked kind of silly.

The German Romantic poet Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866) was one of Gustav Mahler’s favorite poets, and he set a number of his poems to music, including the Kindertotenlieder (“Songs on the Death of Children”).

Mahler composed four of the five Rückert Lieder in 1901, initially to be sung with piano accompaniment; very soon after, he orchestrated them. The fifth of the Rückert Lieder, “Liebst du um Schönheit?” (‘If you love for beauty…’) was composed a bit later, and orchestrated by Mahler’s publisher. The songs do not constitute a formal song-cycle, nor is there any prescribed order of performing them.

Ms. Garanča began with “Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder” (“Do not look at my songs…”), in which poet and composer seem to be warning the listener not to be too inquisitive about the song-writing process: it’s the finished product that matters. This light and almost playful song was deliciously voiced by Ms. Garanča, whilst the woodwind players of The MET Orchestra buzzed charmingly about, like busy bees.

In “Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft” (“I breathed a gentle fragrance…”) the mezzo-soprano brought an intriguing mix of calm and intensity. Her use of dynamics and her lovely sustaining of the vocal line were beautifully supported by the oboe, horn, and flute. The singer’s lower range has a special warmth and glow: rich without seeming over-burdened.

A change of mood comes with “Um Mitternacht” (“At midnight”) which tells of the poet’s battle with darkness (both in the literal and and the poetic sense) until he finally leaves it all in God’s hands. Ms. Garanča brought profound beauty of tone to the song, giving it an almost operatic dimension. Her use of straight tone at times was beguiling, whilst throughout her expressive, passionate colouring of the words kept us engrossed. It seemed that the conductor allowed a passing trace of vulgarity in some of the wind playing, and he allowed the orchestra to cover the voice in the closing passages of the song.

“Liebst du um Schönheit” (“If you love for beauty…”) was the first Mahler song I ever heard, sung at a 1972 recital by the delectable Frederica von Stade. A few years later, the unique voice of Patricia Brooks gave the song a different feeling. And it’s a song I very much associate with my late friend, the Japanese contralto Makiko Narumi. The words, in translation, could have been the theme song of my long career as a promiscuous romantIc:

“If you love for beauty,

Do not love me!

Love the sun,

with her golden hair.

If you love for youth,

Do not love not me!

Love the spring,

Which is young each year.

If you love for riches,

Do not love not me!

Love the mermaid,

she has many lustrous pearls.

But If you love for love,

Then…yes! Love me!

Love me,

And I shall always love you.”

Every note and word of Ms. Garanča’s singing of this jewel of a song was simply exquisite; she seemed to savour the joy of having such a fascinating voice with which to allure us. Though once again the orchestra infringed on the voice at times, her perfect rendering of the charming “…o, ja!…” as the song neared its end gave me a shiver of delight.

I’ve never understood why a singer would end this group of songs with anything but “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (“I have been lost to the world…”), probably the single most profound lied ever written. The poem tells of the peace achieved by the poet’s withdrawal from the turmoil of the daily life. The MET’s wind players were simply gorgeous here, infusing the music with a tender sense of longing and resignation. Ms. Garanča’s singing was haunting in its range of colour and gradations of vibrato; she drew us into that place of refuge that Rückert and Mahler have created for the soul in search of hermitage: what more can we ask of a singer?

The poem ends: “I live alone in my Heaven…in my love…in my song.” The touching opening theme is heard again from the English horn, fading to a whisper.

Above: Ms. Garanča and Maestro Nézet-Séguin performing the Rückert Lieder; photo by Steve Sherman

An over-eager fan rather spoilt the end of the mezzo-soprano’s performance with a very loud “Brava!” before the music had completely faded away. A wave of applause and cheers then filled the august Hall, where so much glorious music has been heard thru the passing decades. Ms. Garanča basked in the glow of a prolonged standing ovation, which her luminous singing so fully deserved.

Following the interval, Maestro Nézet-Séguin returned for the Bruckner 7th. This was my first live experience of this work, which begins so magically with a string tremolo from which the glorious main theme arises. Throughout most of the first movement, I felt as engaged – and even exalted – as I had expected to feel, since I like Bruckner’s music in general.

But in the ensuing Adagio, I found the performance drifting away from me. There were some iffy moments from the horns, the music seemed periodically to lose its shape, and the movement began to feel endless. The Scherzo which follows was singularly lacking in wit and sparkle, and while its tranquil – almost wistful – trio section is pleasant enough to hear, pleasant music tends to get boring after a while.

At last, the Finale is reached; I hoped that Bruckner would take the driver’s seat and careen madly to the finish line. Instead, the music came in fits and starts, seeming to fold in on itself and retreat periodically into modestly attractive wind interludes. At last: a big statement. But this was soon replaced by more dawdling. Frankly, it couldn’t end soon enough. I found myself craving Bizet’s Symphony in C.

Afterwards, I asked myself why the Bruckner 7th had seemed like such a disappointment this evening. My friend Ben Weaver suggested that perhaps it was the performance, rather than the music, that had let me down. But it’s something deeper.

In search of answers, I read some on-line articles by music-lovers who stated that Bruckner’s music often eluded them. One common theme in many of these writings was Bruckner’s seeming lack of a sex life: simplistic perhaps, but on the other hand we know that Mozart, Liszt, Wagner, Debussy, Puccini, and Mahler were men of passion, and it comes thru in their music. Bruckner’s passion seems to have been for God, and some writers went so far as to say that Bruckner probably lived and died a virgin. This may account for a feeling of sterility in some of his music, and why it doesn’t reach me. Oddly, reading about Bruckner and looking at some pictures of the man, I began thinking of Mike Pence.

Speaking of people’s sex lives, in tonight’s Playbill note about The MET Orchestra, the name of James Levine – the man universally credited with turning the opera house’s orchestra into a world-class concert ensemble – is conspicuously absent. This gloss seems so childish, but I suppose in an age when slavery in America and the Holocaust in Europe are being written out of text books, anything is possible.

~ Oberon

June 14, 2019
Beth Jucovy/Dance Visions NY: Isadora’s Russian Repertory

Above: I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon and Beth Jucovy in Isadora Duncan’s Varshavianka; photo by Dmitry Beryozkin

~ Author: Oberon

Monday May 27th, 2019 – Since I had a prior commitment on the evening of their appearance at Sans Limites Movement 2019, Beth Jucovy very kindly arranged for me and photographer Dmitry Beryozkin to watch a rehearsal of her Company, Dance Visions NY, who are presenting the Company’s staging of Isadora Duncan’s Russian Workers Songs and Scriabin Etudes at the festival.

These works were transmitted to Ms. Jucovy directly by 2nd generation Duncan exponent, Julia Levien, with the exception of The Crossing, which was passed on to Ms. Jucovy by Adrienne Ramm. Isadora Duncan’s Scriabin Etudes consist of Mother, The Crossing, and Revolutionary. The Russian Workers Songs are entitled Dubinushka and Varshavianka.

These danceworks were created by Isadora Duncan circa 1923; they were all revived by Irma Duncan and re-staged by Julia Levien, who had danced with Irma’s company. The dances reflect Isadora’s experiences while she lived in Revolutionary Russia; among their themes are struggle, awakening, protest, revolution, and – ultimately – victory.

Dance Visions NY dancers who perform in the Russian Workers Songs are Beth Jucovy, Anastasia Benedetti, Louisa Cathcart, Cathleen Deutscher, Ligia Gaissionok, I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon, Shannon McMullan, and Rebekah Mulkey. The Scriabin Etudes – three solos – are danced by Ms. Jucovy.

After running thru the Russian Workers Songs a couple of times in practice clothes, the dancers donned the red-hued costumes and danced both pieces full-out.

The Varshavianka sings of the struggle of the workers to throw off the yoke of oppression. Marching under the red flag of Liberty, one by one the valiant fighters are shot down; but with each casualty, another brave worker takes up the banner. In the end, the fallen are transfigured; they rise again to carry on the struggle.

Photos from Varshavianka:

Beth Jucovy

Louisa Cathcart and Ligia Gaissionok

Ligia Gaissionok and Cathleen Deutscher

Cathleen Deutscher and Ligia Gaissionbok

I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon and Shannon McMullan

I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon, Shannon McMullan

Above: the finale of the Varshavianka

The Dubinushka was sung by dock workers, hauling the heavy ropes in the shipyard; they sang this song to maintain the rhythm of their work.

Photos from Dubinushka:

Beth Jucovy

Above: in the foreground are Shannon McMullan and Rebekah Mulkey

After dancing the Workers Songs, the dancers began packing up to leave. We talked with them briefly: some have been dancing with Ms. Jucovy for many years, so the Company definitely has the feel of family. Beth began tidying up the studio, and I asked her a question about the Scriabin Etudes. “Shall I dance them for you?”, she asked. And in the twinkling of an eye, she donned the Isadorian scarves and began to dance the three solos.

Mother:

The Crossing:

Revolutionary:

Beth danced these solos in full performance mode, deeply involved and vibrantly expressive; it was so generous of her to share these unique works with us.

~ Oberon

Photos: Dmitry Beryozkin

May 31, 2019
Beth Jucovy/Dance Visions NY: Isadora’s Russian Repertory

Above: I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon and Beth Jucovy in Isadora Duncan’s Varshavianka; photo by Dmitry Beryozkin

~ Author: Oberon

Monday May 27th, 2019 – Since I had a prior commitment on the evening of their appearance at Sans Limites Movement 2019, Beth Jucovy very kindly arranged for me and photographer Dmitry Beryozkin to watch a rehearsal of her Company, Dance Visions NY, who are presenting the Company’s staging of Isadora Duncan’s Russian Workers Songs and Scriabin Etudes at the festival.

These works were transmitted to Ms. Jucovy directly by 2nd generation Duncan exponent, Julia Levien, with the exception of The Crossing, which was passed on to Ms. Jucovy by Adrienne Ramm. Isadora Duncan’s Scriabin Etudes consist of Mother, The Crossing, and Revolutionary. The Russian Workers Songs are entitled Dubinushka and Varshavianka.

These danceworks were created by Isadora Duncan circa 1923; they were all revived by Irma Duncan and re-staged by Julia Levien, who had danced with Irma’s company. The dances reflect Isadora’s experiences while she lived in Revolutionary Russia; among their themes are struggle, awakening, protest, revolution, and – ultimately – victory.

Dance Visions NY dancers who perform in the Russian Workers Songs are Beth Jucovy, Anastasia Benedetti, Louisa Cathcart, Cathleen Deutscher, Ligia Gaissionok, I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon, Shannon McMullan, and Rebekah Mulkey. The Scriabin Etudes – three solos – are danced by Ms. Jucovy.

After running thru the Russian Workers Songs a couple of times in practice clothes, the dancers donned the red-hued costumes and danced both pieces full-out.

The Varshavianka sings of the struggle of the workers to throw off the yoke of oppression. Marching under the red flag of Liberty, one by one the valiant fighters are shot down; but with each casualty, another brave worker takes up the banner. In the end, the fallen are transfigured; they rise again to carry on the struggle.

Photos from Varshavianka:

Beth Jucovy

Louisa Cathcart and Ligia Gaissionok

Ligia Gaissionok and Cathleen Deutscher

Cathleen Deutscher and Ligia Gaissionbok

I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon and Shannon McMullan

I-Nam Jiemvitayanukoon, Shannon McMullan

Above: the finale of the Varshavianka

The Dubinushka was sung by dock workers, hauling the heavy ropes in the shipyard; they sang this song to maintain the rhythm of their work.

Photos from Dubinushka:

Beth Jucovy

Above: in the foreground are Shannon McMullan and Rebekah Mulkey

After dancing the Workers Songs, the dancers began packing up to leave. We talked with them briefly: some have been dancing with Ms. Jucovy for many years, so the Company definitely has the feel of family. Beth began tidying up the studio, and I asked her a question about the Scriabin Etudes. “Shall I dance them for you?”, she asked. And in the twinkling of an eye, she donned the Isadorian scarves and began to dance the three solos.

Mother:

The Crossing:

Revolutionary:

Beth danced these solos in full performance mode, deeply involved and vibrantly expressive; it was so generous of her to share these unique works with us.

~ Oberon

Photos: Dmitry Beryozkin

May 30, 2019
Limón Dance Company @ The Joyce

Above: José Limón

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday May 29th, 2019 – The Limón Dance Company‘s program at The Joyce this evening brought us José Limón’s classic masterwork The Moor’s Pavane and his fascinating ensemble piece Psalm, along with Colin Connor’s The Weather in the Room, danced by guest artists Stephen Pier and Miki Orihara, and Radical Beasts in the Forest of Possibilities from choreographer Francesca Harper, in collaboration with composer/performer Nona Hendryx.

How wonderful to see dance icons Miki Orihara and Stephen Pier (above) onstage together tonight; the husband-and-wife duo gave a vivid, touching performance in the New York premiere of Colin Connor’s The Weather In The Room, an intimate narrative work which tells us of a long-lasting domestic relationship and shows us what it takes to keep it alive thru the years.

A couple return home from a formal party; a chair, a stool, and a rug comprise the setting. Shoes come off, and his jacket; they get comfy as what sounds like a scratchy old ’78 record begins to play. Sarah Shugarman’s score is so evocative, and soon memories are in play. Miki’s gestural language is poetry made visible, whilst Stephen looms over his petite soulmate, alternately solicitous and slightly impatient.

As their danced conversation unfolds, six dancers in white appear, moving restlessly in the background, and running about. A chime sounds, and to a pulsing motif, an argument between the husband and wife springs up. Eventually they withdraw to opposing corners and the space becomes a small theatre where, in a series of duets, the six dancers present dances of memory: chapters from the biography of a marriage. Impetuous youthful gladness, tender moments, and passing anxiousness are depicted to expressive music.

Above: Terrence D.M. Diable and Frances Samson in The Weather in the Room; photo by Christopher Jones.

Gradually, Miki and Stephen have moved closer to one another from their distant corners, and in the end, they are reconciled. But…it’s not quite the end. For the piece has a happy-music coda; the setting reverts to the quiet living room. As the music fades, Miki laughs softly.

There are times in an enduring relationship when you will question whether you are in the right place with the right person; it’s happened to me from time to time in recent years. At such moments, drawing from the well of memory reminds us of what we loved about our mate at the start, and makes us ask: what would life be like without him? Mr. Connor’s thoughtful, sobering dancework resonates with meaning for me and – I am sure – for many who will watch this work. The depth of Miki and Stephen’s performance was so gratifying to experience, and the ensemble of dancers – Terence D.M. Diable, Mariah Gravelin, Gregory Hamilton, Eric Parra, Frances Samson, and Lauren Twomley – sustained the atmosphere with their articulate, committed dancing.

José Limón’s best-known work, The Moor’s Pavane, is always as meaningful to hear as to see; the choreographer’s choice of Henry Purcell’s music underscores what I have long believed: this music is made to be danced to. Drawing on Shakespeare’s story of The Moor whose love for his faithful wife Desdemona is destroyed thru jealousy sparked by innuendo, the choreographer creates a ballet at once elegant and brutal. This evening it was splendidly danced by Mark Willis (The Moor), Savannah Spratt (His Wife), Jess Obremski (His Friend), and Jacqueline Bulnés (The Friend’s Wife), their dancing alive with nuance and musicality.

Over tiime, I have seen many danceworks similar to Francesca Harper’s Radical Beasts in the Forest of Possibilities wherein the dancers dwell in a desolate landscape, with drifting fog. Nora Hendryx has created a collage of electronic sounds ranging from static to sonic pulsars. Among the eight dancers, who move with vivid athleticism in choreography that has an improvisational quality, there seem to be alternating currents of connection or isolation.

Jacqueline Bulnés (who emerges first from the darkness, as if lighting the way), Terrence Diable, Mariah Gravelin, David Glista, Jesse Obremski, Frances Samson, Lauren Twomley, and Mark Willis all showed the strength and suppleness of their dancing. The work might have ended on a rather desolate note, but then Ms. Hendryx turned from her laptop to the piano keyboard and began to play a lyrical theme. Dancers Lauren Twomley and Jesse Obremski joined in a duet that brought a sense of humanity to the proceedings; both dancers are beautiful movers. The piece ends on a question mark, as Ms. Bulnés returns with her flashlight as if seeking the couple out. Have they done something wrong?

Above: from Psalm; photo by Douglas Cody

The evening ended with a re-staging of José Limón’s 1967 ritualistic work, Psalm. Carla Maxwell had commissioned a new score for this large-scale dramatic work from composer Jon Magnussen in 2002. I had the opportunity of watching a studio rehearsal of Psalm a week prior to the Joyce performances, and was thrilled and moved by it.

Without the program note explaining the traditional Jewish belief that all the sorrows of the world rest in thirty-six Just Men, we might have thought of the ballet’s protagonist as an Outcast, a Penitent, or a Christ Figure. In this role, dancer David Glista gave a striking performance, abounding in physical energy and passion, living out the torment of the character with unswerving commitment. Two women, Savannah Spratt and Frances Samson, had prominent roles, and the entire Company filled the space with leaps, turns, and ecstatic gestures as the music ranged from harp and chant to pounding drums, solos for male voice, syncopated Alleluias, and summoning tambourines. Throughout the work, thoughts of Martha Graham’s epic ceremonials continually came to mind.

Psalm is perhaps a bit over-long, and parts of it are repetitive. But it is as impressive to behold as to hear, and it provides a portal to an ancient world where such rites were an essential element in the life of the community.

~ Oberon

May 29, 2019
Robert Lloyd as Gurnemanz

Robert Lloyd – Titurel der fromme Held ~ PARSIFAL

May 28, 2019
Pittsburg Symphony Orchestra @ Lincoln Center

Above: pianist Till Fellner, photo by Jean-Baptiste Millot

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Sunday May 19th, 2019 matinee – Great Performers at Lincoln Center presenting Maestro Manfred Honeck and his Pittsburg Symphony Orchestra in a super-sized concert at Lincoln Center this afternoon: Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 was preceded by Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 5 – two substantial works that rarely share the stage.

Austrian pianist Till Fellner was the soloist for Beethoven’s 1809 magnum opus, the imposing “Emperor” Piano Concerto. By 1809 Beethoven’s hearing was already deteriorated enough that he stopped playing the piano in public. It is the only one of is concertos that he did not premiere himself. After a single chord from the orchestra, the piano enters majestically with an extended solo. This is followed by another single chord from the orchestra and a cadenza-like solo from the piano; and then again – for the third time – before the orchestra finally launches a traditional introduction.

The lovely Adagio is scored sparingly for the piano, muted strings and winds and it leads without a pause into the raucous final Rondo. Mr. Fellner is a magician behind the keyboard. There is an extraordinary sense of simplicity and ease in his playing; even in the most arduous passages, he makes the music sound like it is being played by the gods themselves. But there is nothing simple about his interpretations, which are filled with shadows and light. He makes the music come alive in a way no other living pianist does. Fellner seems to breathe the music into existence. Each live performance I have attended by this extraordinary musician leaves me in awe. Maestro Honeck and the Pittsburg Symphony musicians seemed to be breathing the same music as Mr. Fellner. They were the perfect partners for this exceptional performance.

Above: Maestro Honeck, photographed by Reinhold Möller

Gustav Mahler’s mighty Symphony No. 5 received a somewhat mixed performance after the intermission. The star-turn trumpet introduction to the symphony was beautifully done, and Honeck’s tightly-controlled and dark funeral march signaled a great start. And for the Pittsburg Symphony, even at maximum volume, the sound remained wonderfully transparent. What was missing from the 3rd and 4th movements as the symphony shifts from darkness to light with its swirling waltzes, gallops and love songs (the Adagietto was nicely paced, but the climax never materialized) was a sense of fun; everyone still seemed to be stuck in the death-haunted first two movements of the symphony. Fortunately the final Rondo came whizzing in like a Mendelssohnian fairy. Honeck’s lightening of textures was a striking effect here and it brought the work to an appropriately affirming conclusion.

~ Ben Weaver

May 28, 2019
Philharmonic Ensembles ~ Season Finale

Above: composer Sofia Gubaidulina

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday May 26th, 2019 matinee – This afternoon’s Merkin Hall concert by musicians from The New York Philharmonic marked the season finale of the Philharmonic Ensembles series. These programs invariably mix new or off-the-beaten-path works with classics from the chamber music repertoire.

Both in the choice of repertory and in the superb playing of the musicians, today’s concert was one of the finest I’ve ever experienced. The audience seemed enraptured; wonderfully silent and attentive, they created an atmosphere which doubtless inspired the players to outdo themselves. No coughing, no cellphones, no one dropped anything; there were a number of small children in the audience, but none of them made a peep. What an opportunity for blissful immersion in the music!

An infrequently-performed work by Franz Schubert, Notturno, opened the concert. I greatly enjoyed hearing pianist Hélène Jeanney again, having previously heard her playing Zwilich and Debussy at these concerts. For today’s Schubert, she was joined by Na Sun (violin) and Qiang Tu (cello).

Found among some of Schubert’s papers after his death, the Notturno is a work of timeless beauty and contemplation, commencing with harmonizing strings which pass through lovely modulations in which the piano sets a pace that feels like a slow waltz. Mlle. Jeanney then takes the lyrical lead with a gracious piano melody as the strings are plucked. In a role reversal, the pianist then assumes the role of a harpist, with gentle accents supporting the melodious strings.

In a contrasting section, we move into a minor phase; there is a rising intensity and the music becomes quite passionate, with swirling cascades of notes from the keyboard. A sense of longing rises from the violin and cello, underscored by the restless piano. Na Sun and Qiang Tu then beautifully resume the original theme, the harmonies seeming even more poignant now. Following a rather sudden crescendo, the music rises to a calm finish. How poetic the atmosphere our three players conjured: simply sublime.

The music of Sofia Gubaidulina always intrigues me, and today her Piano Quintet proved fascinating. This quintet is one of her earliest works, written in 1957 while she was still a student at the Moscow Conservatory. Several influences are in play in this quintet: Shostakovich, for sure, but maybe – even more – Prokofiev. And, strangely enough, there are also tinges of the French composers of the Impressionist school along the way. But Gubaidulina manages to weave these threads together convincingly. The quintet sounds really original.

Pianist Eric Huebner joined the Philharmonic’s Qianqian Li and Joo Young Oh (violins), Peter Kenote (viola), and Nathan Vickery (cello) for music-making of the highest order. The composer gives the 2nd violinist a great deal to do in the quintet, and Joo Young Oh (his hair now blonde, and wearing a spiffy golden-tone jacket) played it all superbly.

The opening Allegro has a rhythmic, fun start, with the music driven by Eric Huebner’s lively playing at the Steinway. Throughout, Mr. Huebner constantly reminds us of why it’s called a “piano quintet”: he’s a wonderful pianist. The music, accented, brings forth string harmonies as the piano comments. The second violin has his first chance to shine; his theme is then taken up by first violinist Quinquin Li. A long piano solo has an almost furtive quality, and then things become insistent and sonically dense. Nathan Vickery’s cello sings over pulsing motifs from the piano. The melody is passed about, then the strings assume a high, shimmering blend before the Allegro’s amusing ending.

Peter Kenote’s viola takes the lead in the Andante marciale, which soon gets a swagger on. Laying back a bit, there’s a violin passage and the music turns fragmented. The march then picks up again, reminiscent of the its famous counterpart in Prokofiev’s L’Amour des Trois Oranges. The violin plays on high as the music strides away into the distance.

Yearning strings and the quiet piano mark the start of the Larghetto sensibile, with the violin in a sad song that the cello joins; the piano however seems to hint at a jest. As the viola and 2nd violin blend, there’s a trace of exoticism. Syncopation rises up, becoming insistent until the viola leads us back to some searing harmonies. Mr. Kenote’s viola sounds alone, and Mr. Oh takes his violin on high in a solo passage. Harmonies shift, and Mr. Huebner at the Steinway has a final solo opportunity.

To a bustling piano rhythm, Mr. Kenote leads off the concluding Presto. The music romps along, with momentary calmings along the way. Mr. Huebner continues to shine in the demanding piano music. After simmering down again, the cello begins to pulse and the cello and viola start buzzing in an ascent to the heights where the quintet finds its finish.

Above: cellist and composer David Popper

An unusual work by David Popper, Requiem, was originally composed for three cellos and orchestra; it was later transcribed for three double-basses and piano, which is how it was presented today (apparently there is also an arrangement for three trombones!).

It’s a terrifically original work, and the three bass players – Blake Hinson, Satoshi Okamoto, and Rion Wentworth – were clearly savouring this opportunity show off what the double-bass can do, whilst pianist Steven Beck played an integral role in this gem of a piece. The doleful depths of the three basses, both in harmonies and in solo passages, continually evoked shivers as the resonances seem to invade the very soul. Passages for solo piano gave contrast; at one point, a trace of the Ave Maria was heard. The basses meanwhile made me think of the profound beauty of the opening of the “Hymn to the Sun” from Mascagni’s Iris.

I enjoyed the Popper rarity immensely: kudos to the bassists for bringing it to us in all its richness.

To close the performance, Piano Trio #2 by Dmitri Shostakovich was given a sterling rendition by Yulia Ziskel (violin), Mr. Vickery (cello), and Jonathan Feldman (piano).

This was by far the most familiar work on the program, so I put away my note pad and let the music dazzle and move me in this performance by three exceptional artists. Ms. Ziskel is a violinist who always maintains an alluring gleam on her tone; her playing could be at once ethereal and heart-wrenching. Following her poignant solo in the Largo, Mr. Vickery’s cello joined her in music that is achingly beautiful and deeply moving. Their playing reached the heights of expressiveness.

The dazzling dance of the concluding Allegretto was so thrilling to experience today. Here Mr. Feldman’s brilliance and irresistible vitality were a pure joy, whilst Ms. Ziskel and Mr. Vickery continued to astonish. The quintet ends as the dance gives way to a reprise of the chorale of the Largo, providing a reassuring comfort which we so desperately need in these troubled times.

As the Shostakovich progressed today, the world around me seemed to vanish; both the music the musicians reached me on a level that is rarely attained. For such moments in life, how can we express our gratitude?

~ Oberon

May 26, 2019
MET Orchestra/Gergiev/Trifonov @ Carnegie Hall

Above: pianist Daniil Trifonov

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Saturday May 18th, 2019 – The MET Orchestra made its way over to Carnegie Hall for one of its popular annual orchestral concerts. Former principal guest conductor Valery Gergiev – director of the Mariinsky Theater of St. Petersburg, and a regular presence on the Met podium – led the performances (without a podium, which seems to be his preferred method; one of his many eccentricities that also include conducting with what appears to be a toothpick.)

For the the first half of the concert Maestro Gergiev was joined by the star pianist Daniil Trifonov for Robert Schumann’s ever-green Piano Concerto in A minor. Mr. Trifonov is an excellent pianist, perhaps even a great one, even at his relatively young age. But as demonstrated by this particular performance (and not for the first time) he often displays his own eccentricities with music-making. He played the introduction to the concerto extremely slow (remarkably, one could hear some early echoes of Rachmaninoff in the piano and orchestra) – and then at the first sign of a something faster, Trifonov sped up like a runaway train. These extremes in the tempos – dragging slow and demonic fast – dominated the entire performance, but felt like an affectation, not organic music-making. This is not a new thing for Mr. Trifonov; his Carnegie Hall debut in 2011 (with Tchaikovsky’s 1st Piano Concerto, conducted by Gergiev) was criticized by the New York Times for similar behavior: “…he tended to offset extremely fast playing with extremely slow, more maundering than meditative: a manic-depressive approach…”

Needless to say, the fast playing was dazzlingly note-perfect. Trifonov does not attempt more than he can actually accomplish. And in the slow sections he frequently displayed extraordinary sensitivity and beauty. But on the whole the performance was, alas, mostly frustrating and even boring. I have little doubt that maestro Gergiev supported all of Trifonov’s choices: Gergiev himself frequently takes similar liberties with the tempo, especially in non-Russian repertoire. Sometimes it works (his Wagner is often thrilling for it), but only sometimes.

The audience greeted Trifonov’s performance warmly (to say the least) and he played a lovely, beautifully articulated and, dare I say, perfectly-paced encore – Schumann’s “Nicht schnell, mit Innigkeit” from Bunte Blätter, Op. 99, No. 1.

For the second half of the concert the MET Orchestra and Maestro Gergiev (above) took center stage for Franz Schubert’s last symphony, Symphony No. 9 in C major, completed in 1828, the year of his death. The manuscript collected dust in Schubert’s brother’s possession until 1837 when Robert Schumann, passing through Vienna, paid a visit to Ferdinand’s home and was rewarded with a “hoard of riches” of Schubert’s never-before seen manuscripts, including the final symphony. Schumann and his friend Felix Mendelssohn finally arranged the work’s premiere in 1839 under Mendelssohn’s baton. The premiere was not a success with the audiences and it took many years for the symphony to finally gain acceptance for the masterpiece it is. The work’s length, which Schumann called “heavenly,” was a big stumbling block. In due time composers like Anton Bruckner and Gustav Mahler out-composed Schubert’s 9th for time and the work finally did ascend to warhorse status.

The symphony opens with a call from a horn, played beautifully by (probably) MET’s principal hornist John Anderer. The orchestra, under Gergiev’s toothpick, sounded superb. Gergiev has been burnishing his German music credential as the new principal conductor of the Munich Philharmonic. The nicely articulated rhythm were clean and sharp. This work was far more consistently paced than the opening Schumann concerto. Gergiev kept the symphony moving at a clip that never felt rushed. Many solo instruments were given a chance to shine, particularly the woodwinds in the second movement. The Scherzo was graceful and the once controversial final movement – where in the 1830s Mendelssohn found London musicians laughing at the second theme of the movement and refusing to play it – was thrillingly played. But something was missing from the whole: perhaps a little variety of rhythm and dynamics. Gergiev conducting was extremely consistent, but in a work faulted by some for being too repetitive, consistency turned out to be something of a negative.

An extended ovation followed; the audience wanted an encore, but with an imperial wave Maestro Gergiev gave the orchestra permission to disband.

~ Ben Weaver

May 24, 2019
Shostakovich ~ Beethoven @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: Maestro Jaap van Zweden; photo by Chris Lee

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday May 22nd, 2019 – As their 2018-2019 season winds down, The New York Philharmonic offered a well-contrasted pairing of works tonight at Geffen Hall: Shostakovich’s Chamber Symphony and Beethoven’s 3rd symphony: the Eroica. The Philharmonic musicians were on top form, and the orchestra’s Music Director, Jaap van Zweden, led a performance that ended with an enthusiastic ovation.

For all the concert’s musical excellence, extraneous factors made the evening something of a trial. The lobby at Geffen Hall during the half-hour leading up to the performance’s start time has lately become weirdly chaotic: it has the feeling of an airport, with staff folks yelling at you to go here or there, and long, snaking lines between the velvet ropes to pass thru the “non-invasive” scanner only to be wanded once you’ve gotten the green light. It’s quite stressful, and hardly conducive to the state of mind one hopes to be in when a concert starts: calm, focused, receptive.

The opening minutes of the Shostakovich featured a chorus of coughers from the audience; the woman next to us coughed throughout the concert while the fellow in front of us nearly busted a lung with one coughing fit: I actually thought he might pass out. Aside from ruining the music, germs are being spread. If you are sick, be courteous enough stay home.

But the performance of the Shostakovich Chamber Symphony was simply thrilling. This work is an arrangement of the composer’s 1960 String Quartet No. 8, Op. 110, by Rudolf Barshai, a renowned violist and conductor who founded the Moscow Chamber Orchestra in 1956. Barshai’s transcription honors the original instrumentation: it’s set for large string ensemble. And it’s simply magnificent to hear.

The symphony is in five movements, played without pause. From a somber start emerges a soft, sorrowing violin melody (beautifully played by concertmaster Frank Huang). Six basses bring a sense of grandeur to the music, which is richly layered. Suddenly, a sizzling energy flares up: the basses dig in, with swirling violins and slashing celli, as the music becomes a huge dance. For a spell, violins and violas compete; then the music comes to a sudden halt.

The violas set the pace for a waltz, played by the violins, which later slows down and fades away. A dirge-like passage is followed by a poignant lament. Carter Brey’s cello sings to us in its highest range, a song which Mr. Huang’s violin takes up. The music meanders a bit, ebbing and flowing, before a magical fading finish.

This work, and the Philharmonic’s playing of it, was one of the highlights of the season for me. Mssrs. Huang and Brey were enthusiastically applauded as they rose for a bow. I was surprised to read that this was The Philharmonic’s premiere performance of this symphony.

I must admit that I don’t find Beethoven’s Eroica all that interesting. Its initial theme:

…reminds me of a simple melodic scrap I wrote for a compulsory exercise in music theory class in high school. We hear it repeatedly in the symphony’s Allegro con brio, and to me it’s tiresome.

Sherry Sylar’s oboe solos and some warm-toned horn playing captured my interest in the Adagio assai, but I don’t think Beethoven’s idea of a funeral march shows much imagination. It feels aimless, missing the weighted grief of Chopin’s or the epic grandeur of Wagner’s (and for wit, there’s always Gounod). The hunting horns in the Scherzo again reminded me of high school, where I struggled to be a proficient horn player, but without success. Ms. Sylar and clarinetist Anthony McGill illuminated their solo bits in the Finale, but I found my mind wandering.

Whenever a musical work that is highly regarded by many fails to reach me, it makes me feel deficient. What am I not getting? So it was interesting to read in the program notes that Beethoven’s 3rd was not initially regarded as a masterpiece, but seemed instead overly long and lacking a sense of unity.

Still feeling that the Eroica has eluded me, I went to a classical music chat room to see if anyone else felt as I do about this symphony. Among the many posts heaping praise on Beethoven’s 3rd, someone wrote: “I would never deny the power and genius of the Eroica, but I never want to sit through it again.”

The evening honored musicians who are retiring from The Philharmonic this season. One who I will especially miss is violinist Anna Rabinova (above), whose dedicated artistry I have come to know thru her appearances at the Philharmonic Ensembles concerts at Merkin Hall. I hope she’ll continue to be part of the City’s musical scene in the coming years.

~ Oberon

May 22, 2019
Ernst Kozub

Above: Ernst Kozub as Lohengrin

The German tenor Ernst Kozub’s career is not well-documented. Born at Duisburg in 1924, he developed a thriving career, singing mainly Wagnerian roles. He performed extensively throughout Germany, and also at Covent Garden and Barcelona.

John Culshaw wanted Kozub to be the Siegfried on Sir Georg Solti’s recording of the complete RING Cycle for Decca. It’s believed that ill health prevented the tenor from learning the arduous role, and he was replaced as Siegfried by the veteran heldentenor Wolfgang Windgassen.

Ernst Kozub died on December 27, 1971, aged 47, at Bad Soden, Germany. Three weeks prior to his passing, he had sung Tannhauser in Italy. The cause of his early death is uncertain; it has been attributed to leukemia by some sources, and to a chronic heart disorder by others.

Here are some samples of Mr. Kozub’s singing:

Ernst Kozub – Die Zauberflöte ~ Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön

Melitta Muszely & Ernst Kozub – Nun In Der Nächt’gen Stille ~ OTHELLO

Claire Watson & Ernst Kozub – WALKURE ~ Act I finale – London 1964 – Solti

~ Oberon

May 21, 2019