Author: Philip Gardner

Above: Lahav Shani, Pinchas Zukerman, and Amanda Forsyth

Friday October 17th, 2025 – Guest artists (and married duo) Pinchas Zukerman and Amanda Forsyth joined musicians from the Israeli Philharmonic Chamber Ensemble at Zankel Hall tonight for a concert which featured two of my favorite chamber works – the Mendelssohn Piano Trio #1 and the Shostakovich Piano Quintet. Each half of the program commenced with music by Paul Ben-Haim. 

Lahav Shani, director of the Israeli Philharmonic, was the pianist of the evening…and what a pianist! His playing throughout the evening was nothing short of spectacular.

The concert commenced with Ben-Haim’s Berceuse Sfaradite. As he walked out onto the Zankel Hall stage, Mr. Zukerman was greeted with prolonged, affectionate applause. This beloved artist, now 77 (my age exactly!) played the Ben-Haim Berceuse (a transcription of a vocal song) so sweetly and tenderly, gorgeously accompanied by Mr. Shani. As the music faded sublimely into its ethereal finish, the audience burst into vibrant, sustained applause – and wouldn’t stop until Mr. Z came out for a bow. 

Mendelssohn’s Piano Trio No. 1 was the work that first drew me into the world of chamber music. Decades ago, whilst living in Hartford, I’d tuned in early for a Metropolitan Opera Saturday radio broadcast. The local station played the Mendelssohn as a ‘prelude’ to the Met performance. For some reason, I flipped on my cassette recorder and taped the trio. I was captivated by the music; I hadn’t even jotted down the names of the musicians, but I played the tape often in the ensuing years; I still have it…though it no longer plays. 

Tonight was only my second hearing of the 1st trio played live: nowadays it seems that it’s the 2^nd piano trio of Mendelsohn that is most often heard in concerts. For me, the first trio far outshines the second with its flow of melody, enticing harmonies, and persuasive mood swings; it is music so familiar and so evocative for me.  

The opening movement introduces us to Ms. Forsyth’s rich cello tone; she sets forth the signature main theme of the Molto allegro agitato, a melody I find heart-rendingly beautiful: it strikes right to the soul. Harmonies develop, and there’s a brief, pensive interlude with piano passages. This is followed by a rising passion, as swirling piano motifs lead to the movement’s end.

Mr. Shani’s playing of the introduction to the Andante con moto was so appealing; the strings join but the piano continues to be prominent, sometimes veering into minor mode. A sense of urgency rises…and falls. Mr. Zukeman plays a lovely theme, underpinned by cello staccati. Then, a gently rocking cello rhythm carries us to a quiet end. 

Mendelssohn, master of the scherzo, gives us a sprightly one here. Mr. Shani’s playing dazzles, and Mr. Zukerman’s timbre and technique are is irresistible. The trio’s final allegro is full of swings from major to minor and back again. Plucked notes from the cello develop into a plush duet for the two string voices. The piano urges things along, and there’s a slight lull before the build-up to the final passages. The three artists were enthusiastically cheered for their beautiful rendering of this musical treasure. Part of me wanted to leave then, and carry this sweet memory with me. But another piece I love, by Shostakovich, loomed before us. 

But first, another Ben-Haim work: clarinetist de luxe  Ron Selka (above) and Maestro Shani offered a truly engaging performance of Ben-Haim’s Songs without Words for Clarinet and Piano. Like the opening Ben-Haim piece, these songs were first vocalises. The opening Arioso found Mr. Selka taking the long phrases in stride with his amazing breath control and spine-tingling tone. The ensuing Ballad mimics the insistent babbling of a story-teller, whilst the concluding Sephardic Melody is drawn from a traditional folk song. Mssrs. Selka and Shani served up this music to perfection. 

Mr. Shani then displayed his abundant technique and deep-felt artistry when he joined the Toscanini Quartet (violinists Yevgenia Pikovsky and Asaf Maoz, violist Dmitri Ratush, and cellist Felix Nemirovsky) for the evening’s closing work: a magnificent rendering of the Shostakovich Piano Quintet.

Composed in 1940 – between the Sixth and Seventh Symphonies – the quintet was an immediate success. It won the then-controversial composer the Stalin Prize in the same year, and was thereafter played frequently by Soviet quartets, often with Shostakovich himself at the piano.

The basic structure of this truly amazing work is as follows:

 I. Prelude: Lento: A piano-led prelude that previews the work’s highly emotional tone.

II. Fugue: Adagio: A grand, complex fugue, which builds in tension before fading out.

III. Scherzo: Allegretto: A somewhat frantic movement that contrasts with the more formal opening movements.

IV. Intermezzo: Lento: A lyrical movement that provides a feeling of calm before the finale.

V. Finale: Allegretto: The final movement is upbeat and features various distinctive themes; the ending is whimsical, with the piano having the final say. 

As the musicians took their places, I had to decide whether to continue taking notes or to sit back and savour this monumental work without the distraction of trying to find words to describe what is essentially beyond description. So I put my pen away…

A momentary string issue with Ms. Pikovsky’s violin caused a slight disruption, but even this could not deter me from my concentration. How fascinating is every note of this score (and most especially its monumental Adagio) and how marvelous was the Toscanini Quartet’s playing of it. Of course, Mr. Shani at the Steinway was at the epicenter of this musical masterpiece: truly an artist of the finest quality. Slight audience distractions could not detract from my deep enjoyment on this glorious music, so perfectly played by this impeccable quintet.

A hearty ovation broke out the moment the last note of the Shostakovich sounded. An encore was demanded, but I couldn’t catch Mr. Shani’s announcement of what the piece was. Appropriately, it brought together the Toscaninis, the pianist, and Mr. Selka’s mellow-toned clarinet for a breezy, romantic piece into which lovely melodies were woven

Thus, an evening which could make us feel – if only for a couple of hours – that all’s well with the world.

~ Oberon

Above: Jeannette Sorrell on the podium, with the evening’s soloists Sonya Headlam and Anthony McGill. Photo by Fadi Kheir.

~ Author: Lane Raffaldini Rubin

Thursday October 16th, 2025 – This week the New York Philharmonic took a detour from its regular programming of large-scale Romantic and Modernist works to present a selection of eighteenth-century music.

Jeannette Sorrell led the Philharmonic in works of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and the perennially under-programmed Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges. Bologne has often been referred to as “the Black Mozart”, a term now thankfully retired. In fact, given the historical circumstances, one must wonder whether Mozart was really the “white Bologne”.

Bologne, eleven years Mozart’s senior, was brought as a boy from the French colony of Guadeloupe to Paris, where he dazzled the élite and became a sort of living legend. None other than the would-be American president John Adams reported hearing King Louis XVI describe Bologne as “the most accomplished Man in Europe in Riding, Shooting, Fencing, dancing, [and] Music.” As a musician Bologne was specifically known as a virtuoso violinist, an innovative composer of concertos for that instrument, and a skilled director of instrumental ensembles and opera companies across Paris.

But entrenched racism kept Bologne from accomplishing all that he was capable of. When Marie Antoinette advocated for Bologne’s appointment as director of the Paris Opéra, leading ladies in the company claimed that they could not take direction from a man such as Bologne.

In certain ways, Mozart followed the path laid by Bologne to become a European musical sensation, favorite of royals and socialites alike. Sorrell, leader of the Cleveland-based baroque ensemble Apollo’s Fire, assembled a program that featured examples of Bologne’s writing for violin and opera and was bookended by one of Mozart’s earliest works and one of his most mature late works.

The program opened with the three-part overture to Mozart’s opera La finta semplice, written in 1768 at the encouragement of Emperor Joseph II when Mozart was all of twelve years old. One can’t help but wonder how much help Wolfgang received from his father Leopold in the composition of his earliest works, but Wolfgang’s nascent style does shine through. This is particularly true in the rhythmic motor and curved figuration of phrases passed between high and low strings. The Italianate third section of the overture features a snappy language that breaks from the conservatism of the first two sections. Sorrell and the Philharmonic, with an appropriately sized string ensemble, played this music with elasticity, transparency, and continuous directionality of phrasing.

Soprano Sonya Headlam, a frequent collaborator of Sorrell’s, joined the Philharmonic in the recitative Enfin une foule importune and aria Amour, devient moi propice from Bologne’s 1780 opera L’Amant anonyme. After hearing the youthful Mozart, Bologne’s music was striking in its stormy palette of timbres. The accompanied recitative was actively orchestrated and full of alluring minor-key rumblings, bringing to mind the seria style of Gluck. The orchestra had much more interesting music than the soprano, unfortunately, whose material unfolded unremarkably above this accompaniment.

Anthony McGill, the Philharmonic’s principal clarinet, joined the orchestra as the soloist in Bologne’s Violin Concerto No. 2 in an arrangement for clarinet by Derek Bermel. McGill approached the concerto’s lyrical solo passages with characteristically sweet, placid tone. He assuredly tossed off many of the fast movements’ bravura passages that feature what were string crossings in the original version for violin. A cadenza that comes relatively early in the movement was hushed and pastoral, presaging the beautiful long melodic lines of the second movement. Sorrell kept the Philharmonic very well balanced through brilliant and lyrical passages alike. By the end of the third movement, McGill’s playing and Bermel’s arrangement convinced me that this concerto was perfectly suited for the clarinet.

(A point of personal privilege: on the same evening that McGill played Bermel’s version of Bologne’s concerto, the South Dakota Symphony Orchestra, my old ensemble, and the Lakota group The Creekside Singers were performing a piece it had commissioned from Bermel and Emmanuel Black Bear.)

McGill and Headlam joined forces in the scena Parto, parto, ma tu ben mio from Mozart’s opera La clemenza di Tito. Headlam’s full-throated instrument came in striking contrast to McGill’s vibrato-less clear voice. In moments of musical dialogue between the soprano and clarinet Headlam noticeably sweetened up her sound, which was most beautiful in the lower tessitura of the vast pitch range required of her in this music.

Mozart’s Symphony No. 40, which rounded out the program, served as an ideal avatar for some of the evening’s big questions: Why bring a baroque bandleader—an outsider to the symphony circuit—to conduct the Philharmonic? Can an ensemble like the Philharmonic engage in the traditions of historically informed performance?

Above: Jeannette Sorrell; photo by Fadi Kheir

Sorrell’s reading of the first movement infused electricity into each melodic figure, with perfectly tapered phrases and an abundance of character in the bass lines. Elegant appoggiaturas are tossed between the violins and winds in the second movement, taken tonight with a lovely quick tempo. And the fourth movement, played with restraint, continues this dedication to the shapes of phrases, even as they speed quickly by.

Sorrell may be more of a bandleader than a symphonic conductor, but there wasn’t a moment all evening that she did not have firm control of the ensemble’s tempo, shape, or timbre. She shepherded the group in what could only be considered sensible techniques of historical performance (minimal vibrato, decaying long bow strokes, transparency of sound, fleet tempos), without veering either into a mannered, academic treatment in one direction or an over-styled, exaggerated spiciness in the other.

This is what the New York Philharmonic should sound like playing Mozart, or Bologne, or any music from before 1800.

~ Lane Raffaldini Rubin

Performance photos by Fadi Kheir, courtesy of the New York Philharmonic.

Roberta Alexander, whose voice and personality might best be described as endearing, has passed away. A native of Virginia, she studied at the University of Michigan. At the age of 23, she moved to The Netherlands and began developing her career in such European centers as Berlin, London, Vienna, Glyndebourne, and Paris.

Parallel to her opera performances, she sang concert repertoire with such notable conductors as Carlo Maria Giulini, Seiji Ozawa, Zubin Mehta, Bernard Haitink, James Levine, and Sir Simon Rattle. Her recital appearances took her all over the world, and she made several recordings, including a delightful series on the Etcetera label.

Ms. Alexander made her Metropolitan Opera debut in 1983 as Zerlina. Her Met career continued with Jenufa, Gershwin’s Bess, Mimi, Mozart’s Vitellia, Contessa Almaviva (a lovely interpretation, which I saw), and Donna Elvira; and Offenbach’s Antonia.

In 2013, the soprano had a shining late-career success when Patrice Chéreau cast her as the 5th Maid in what was to be his final opera production: Strauss’s ELEKTRA at the Aix-en-Provence Festival. In 2016, this production came to The Met, and Ms. Alexander was greeted with loving applause when she stepped forward for a solo bow at the end.

Among her Etcetera label recordings, I am extremely fond of her disc of arias and songs by Samuel Barber, conducted by Edo de Waart (who had been Roberta’s first husband). Listen to an excerpt from this collection here.

Maralin Niska sings the “Vissi d’arte” from Puccini’s TOSCA in a New York City Opera performance, date not given. Listen here.

Read about Ms. Niska here.

Clarice Carson is Cassandra and Dominic Cossa is Chorebus in a scene from Berlioz’s LA PRISE DE TROIE. This concert presentation took place in 1972 at Carnegie Hall; John Nelson conducts the Pro Arte Orchestra.

Above: Maralin Niska

In the Autumn of 1969, I spent almost ten weeks in New York City. I had taken a room at the Henry Hudson Hotel, and was supposed to be job-hunting. But instead, I spent all my time (and limited money) going to the opera. The Met was closed due to a strike, but the New York City Opera was going strong. I think I went to every single performance they gave during those weeks, always in the 4th Ring standing room.

One opera the NYCO were offering that Fall was Borodin’s PRINCE IGOR, in English; this Russian masterpiece was brand new to me. I saw it five times, the last performance bringing together three singers I especially admired: Maralin Niska (Yaroslavna), Edward Pierson (Igor), and William Chapman (Khan Konchak). Gustav Meier was the conductor.

With my money running low, I recorded only about 20 minutes from the performance in order to save cassette space:

First, as Prince Igor is about to lead his troops out to meet the attacking Polovtsians, a solar eclipse develops. His wife, Yaroslavna, sees this as a bad omen and begs her husband not to leave, but he is adamant. Maralin Niska, as Yaroslavna, bids him farewell on a sustained top note. (In this ensemble, you briefly hear tenor James McCray as Igor’s son, Vladimir.)

Later, awaiting her spouse’s return, Yaroslavna sings a wistful lament. Ms. Niska’s soft singing was always so affecting.

When her city is attacked by the hoards of Polovtsians, Princess Yaroslavna and the boyars barricade themselves in the great hall as the palace is set aflame. Ms. Niska took an exciting high option to cap the ensemble.

Captured by Khan Konchak, Prince Igor sings of his despair over his defeat, and of his beloved wife far away. Edward Pierson had such an expressive voice, and excellent diction.

Khan Kochak wants to befriend his prisoner; he suggests that he and Igor should join forces. William Chapman wowed the audience with his vivid singing here.

How does the story end, you may ask: Prince Igor at last returns home, broken by defeat…and by the loss of his son Vladimir in battle.

And how did my plan to work and live in the Big Apple work out? Not well, though not as sadly as the defeated Prince Igor’s. Broke, I went back to the little town, where I lived until moving to Hartford, Connecticut, in 1975. I finally made it to my Dream City in 1998, shortly before turning 50.

~ Oberon

~ Author: Mark Anthony Martinez II; performance photos by Chris Lee

Saturday October 4th, 2025 – The New York Philharmonic had a fascinating program of Boulez and Debussy pieces for this all-French concert. It was a beautiful early Fall night, and I was coming with two friends to see the show. I looked at the program before the concert and realized that I had only heard La Mer, and all of the other pieces were totally new to me.

I love French music for its unique tonal world. The impressionists like Debussy, in particular, encapsulate that flowy, ethereal quality that is the sonic equivalent of paintings by Monet and the other visual impressionists.

It was an almost perfect early Autumn evening, still warm but not hot. When entering David Geffen Hall, there was a buzz from all of the people already there. We came close to the start of the concert, so we quickly went to our seats.

Esa-Pekka Salonen was guest conducting the New York Philharmonic, and I was excited to see his handling of the orchestra. He had just recently finished a tenure as the principal conductor of the San Francisco Symphony.

The lights dimmed, and then a single spotlight shone on the piano in the back of the orchestra. I thought this was odd and was a bit perplexed as to what was going to happen. I was also confused by the placement of the piano. I thought, if the piano was so important as to warrant a spotlight, then it should surely be placed closer to center stage. The lit-up piano played the first Boulez piece, Notation IV, Rhythmique (for solo piano). It was certainly a more modern-sounding piece (even though it was written in 1945). Boulez was a composer in the twelve-tone school of composition. The most famous of those composers was Schoenberg, and you could definitely hear some echoes of Schoenberg in Boulez.

Above: Maestro Salonen with Pierre-Laurent Aimard at the piano; photo by Chris Lee

After the piano had finished, the spotlight disappeared, and the orchestra erupted into the full orchestral version of the same piece. It was a fascinating treat to see truly a fragment, or dare I say, a notation, become fully realized as an orchestral piece. Boulez wrote the orchestral version of his Notations starting in 1978, with revisions going up until 1987. The orchestral version definitely sounded more complete and somehow more full of menace. The orchestral version, in particular, sounded like something that would be in an early black-and-white film or perhaps a modern horror movie.

And full of more surprises, the orchestra seamlessly moved into Debussy’s Gigues from Images for Orchestra. There was no applause break; the musicians simply charged on into a completely different tonal world. What was so interesting was how traditional the Debussy felt in comparison to the Boulez, which is particularly funny because Debussy truly was very avant-garde when his music first came out.

Gigue (which is a type of dance) had a lovely lilting quality, very reminiscent of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade in parts. I loved the orchestra’s handling of the piece as it swayed and danced its way to completion.

Even though Boulez and Debussy’s pieces were written decades apart, in some ways, I could hear the connection between the two pieces back to back. The Debussy had some moments that came out of nowhere, that sounded almost jarring. It was almost as if Boulez took those jarring moments and made an entire piece out of them.

The orchestra masterfully played the pieces, even though they were so different in nature. Salonen was certainly a very dramatic conductor, with big swooping gestures and cutoffs. As a musician, I think I might have a difficult time following, but the Phil were perfect in how they executed the music.

The next set of pieces was once again kicked off by solo piano, with the spotlight shining on it. The piece Notation VII, Hiératique was far more contemplative and minimal than the first piece. When it got to the orchestral version, instead of a wall of sound, the music was much more subtle at first. The strings jumped in at times with violent fervor, then went back to the calmer nature. As the piece progressed, the more maniacal-sounding sforzandos took over, and the piece became more and more sinister. This one, in particular, reminded me a great deal of The Rite of Spring by Stravinsky in some ways.

The piece ended and directly led into Rondes de printemps by Debussy. What was striking was how similar the beginning of the Debussy sounded to the just-finished Boulez. The pieces were exquisitely paired, sort of like wine and chocolate (though the Boulez felt more like taking a shot than drinking wine). The Debussy reminded me a bit of his Afternoon of a Faun. It had a pastoral sense to it as the music romped around.

After the springtime ushered in by Debussy faded away, the final piece of the first half of the concert commenced stridently. The piece, Notation II, Très vif (which means “very lively”), really went all out with the entire orchestra. Everyone was playing in what sounded sort of like a train almost coming off its tracks. Then the piece ended as abruptly as it started.

Everyone took well-deserved bows, and when Salonen came back, he made a cute gesture to the percussion section, as if he were playing percussion himself, and they stood up and took bows.

The intermission felt short, perhaps because the weather outside was so nice as I went onto the balcony with my friends. When we came back, a piano was set center stage for another piece I had never heard before. The latter half of the concert was Debussy only. The piece that started the second half was Fantaisie for Piano and Orchestra.

The pianist, Pierre-Laurent Aimard, wore a full black outfit and walked up to the piano, shook Salonen’s hand, then sat down at his instrument.

This piece was the closest thing to a concerto that Debussy wrote. It was very much a showpiece, in line with a lot of similar concertos written in that era. It sounded a lot like Rachmaninoff’s piano concertos in some regards, but the entire piece sounded very much like Debussy.

It was interesting to hear Debussy writing for a virtuoso performer because I feel like his music (though difficult to play) was normally never intended to be showy like that of some of his other contemporaries.

The music was truly some of the most sublime I’d heard in a while. I used to be a pianist myself, so it is always great to hear some fantastic piano playing. The Fantaisie was very playful and again reminded me of his other orchestral pieces like his Faun. The first movement had the piano gliding up and down the keyboard, fluttering along almost. The piano’s light touch actually reminded me a lot of Saint-Saëns’s piano concertos, the effortless scales and arpeggios that made the piano almost sound like a harp. The two composers were said to have hated each other in real life, so I’m not sure if Debussy willingly took influence or if it was something just in the French musical world at the time.

The music was gorgeous but did have one downside. Debussy really lives in his own soundscape in a sense, and he never really leaves it. Unlike more traditional concertos where there is a stark contrast between movements, or even within movements, the Debussy all sounded like the same world, in a sense.

The piece ended in a flurry of notes from the piano and a rounding fanfare of brass rather beautifully. Aimard took three curtain calls, and some people in the audience expected to hear an encore, but he just left the stage afterward.

Above: conductor and pianist take a bow; photo by Chris Lee

The concert’s selling point was now ready to unfold, and the orchestra readied itself to play La Mer. The symphonic suite, for being so beloved now, was not well received when it first premiered. The piece was broken down into three movements: From Dawn till Noon on the Sea, The Play of the Waves, and Dialogue of the Wind and the Sea.

The piece opened with what sounded like a rising sun over a gently moving sea. Debussy really is a master of tone painting because every second of the piece conveyed how the sea moves and evolves throughout the day.

Part of the reason why people attribute La Mer’s initial lukewarm reception was because it was not played well. As such, one reason why it was possible to hear all the rippling of the waves is because the New York Philharmonic and Salonen brought out the beauty Debussy dreamed up.

The second movement picked up the pace, not so much in tempo, but in terms of what was happening in the music. There was a lot going on, and Salonen conducted the different complex changes in rhythm with great fervor. I was trying to figure out what the time signature was, but it looked complicated nonetheless.

The last movement of the piece settled down a bit compared to the second movement. The music had a more conversational tone as it slowly built up to the climax. Toward the end of the piece, you could hear the cascading water crashing as the orchestra finished with its final grand eruption.

~ Mark Anthony Martinez II

(Performance photos by Chris Lee, courtesy of the NY Philharmonic)

Lisette Oropesa sings ‘Sempre libera‘ from Verdi’s LA TRAVIATA at the annual Deutsche Oper AIDS Gala in Berlin in 2017.

Peruvian tenor Iván Ayón-Rivas sings Alfredo’s lines.

The ‘wink’ at the start is pure Lisette.

Christa Ludwig and Walter Berry in the Recognition Scene from Richard Strauss’ ELEKTRA. Heinrich Hollreiser conducts.

A renowned interpreter of Mahler, Florence Quivar, sings the composer’s Kindertotenlieder from a 1986 concert by the San Francisco Symphony, conducted by Erich Leinsdorf.