Author: Philip Gardner

CMS Winter Festival: All-Schubert Evening

Tuesday January 24th, 2023 – This year, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s annual Winter Festival is centered on the works of Franz Schubert. Tonight’s program featured the eminent pianist Gilbert Kalish and my beloved Escher String Quartet in three masterworks from the composer’s brilliant – but all too brief – career.

The single-movement Quartettsatz in C-minor for Strings, D. 703, was composed in 1820. It seems to have been intended to be the first movement of a full quartet, but the composer never composed additional movements.

From its scurrying start, the Escher Quartet’s performance of the Quartettsatz was a complete delight; their rhythmic attentiveness and tonal appeal were amply on display, their playing full of both vitality and nuance. The silken sheen of Adam Barnett-Hart’s violin made its distinctive mark in solo passages, the music flowing onward to a sudden tempest. This is soon calmed, but Brook Speltz’s restless cello figurations keep things lively. There is a da capo, a sort of coda, which draws on to a full-toned chordal passage; here, the classic Escher blend could be deeply savoured.

Gilbert Kalish then took the stage for Schubert’s Sonata in B-flat major for Piano, D. 960, composed in 1828. This long and demanding work begins with an Allegro Moderato. Mr. Kalish delivers the theme with a sense of serenity; then a low trill sounds, seeming rather ominous – a trill which later brings music of great tenderness. As things become more intense, so does the playing: modulations are beautifully handled by the pianist. The low trill returns before a final recapitulation.

Mr. Kalish brought forth the austere calm – and the poignant colours – of the ensuing Andante sostenuto; the music’s steady rhythmic pulse puts us in a trance. The movement’s ending feels like a benediction.

In a striking volte face, the pianist takes up the boundless animation of the Scherzo. The music breezes along, pausing only for a courtly interlude. The sonata’s concluding Allegro ma non troppo is filled with an uplifting sense of buoyancy and good humor. Passing shadowy clouds momentarily blot out the sun, but by the end, all is bright and fair.

Mr. Kalish was hugely applauded by the packed house at Alice Tully Hall. If Wikipedia is correct, the pianist is 88 years young…simply remarkable!

Above, the players of the Escher String Quartet: Adam Barnett-Hart, violin; Brendan Speltz, violin; Brook Speltz, cello; and Pierre Lapointe, viola.

The gentlemen of the Escher Quartet returned after the interval for the G-major quartet, Opus 161, dating from 1826. From the work’s striking beginning, this music – which I first heard ions ago in the Woody Allen film CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS – always casts a deep spell over me. Incredibly rich and vividly detailed, the opening movement features tremelo effects – introduced by the Escher’s stellar violist Pierre Lapointe – and achingly beautiful, ethereal themes for Mr. Bernett-Hart’s violin. The music becomes triumphant, reaching a passionate end.

As the sonata moves on, cellist Brook Speltz’s role takes on increasing prominence. In the Andante, his sublime cello melody sets the tone, with his colleagues providing gorgeous harmonies. The music becomes intensely poignant, and Mr. Speltz’s playing has me thoroughly engrossed…hypnotized, really.

But suddenly the music stopped; at first, I thought someone had broken a string, but apparently it was a tuning issue; corrections were made, and, after a few moments, the players resumed. It took a while to re-establish the mood; the music becomes hushed, with 2nd violinist Brendan Speltz and Mr. Lapointe sharing a duet passage. Then tremelos again are heard, and the music draws us on to an elegant finish.

Things had been set to rights following the interruption, and the final Allegro assai should have been the frosting on this delicious cake: a deftly Mendelssohnian affair wherein the cellist has more opportunities to enchant us…which he did. But, a jingling cellphone began to sound. The musicians played on, the music so reminiscent of Mendelssohn’s Italian Symphony. The phone ceased for a bit, then rang again. Could the timing have been any worse?

The players persevered, and the audience hailed them with a boisterous standing ovation at the end. While the intense connection to the music I was experiencing prior to the unexpected lull was never re-established, it was still a wonderful evening.

~ Oberon

January 24, 2023
Oberlin Orchestra & Choral Ensembles/Carnegie Hall

Above: Maestro Raphael Jiménez with the Oberlin Orchestra at Carnegie Hall; photo by Fadi Kheir

Author: Brad S Ross

Friday January 20th, 2023 – On Friday evening, New York audiences were once again treated to a fine performance by the Oberlin Orchestra and Choral Ensembles as they returned to Carnegie Hall for the first time (publicly, anyway) since January 19, 2019. They were conducted by Oberlin Orchestras Director Raphael Jiménez, who led the performers in a unique program that included one repertory standard, one New York City premiere, and one buried gem.

The evening began with long—very long—opening remarks by Oberlin College and Conservatory President Carmen Twillie Ambar and Oberlin Conservatory Dean William Quillen.

Ambar’s remarks focused on two of the evening’s headlining pieces having been written by minority composers and therefore made all the requisite extollations about the need for representing historically marginalized groups. As important as this message is, it would be nice to hear the music of under-appreciated composers like Will Marion Cook, William Dawson, Florence Price, George Walker, etc., without this ever-obligatory preamble. My continued hope is that someday we will be able to let their music simply speak for itself.

Quillen’s remarks, while less political, were a seemingly endless list of “thank you”s, not unlike an Oscar acceptance speech—only this time, there was no hope of the music playing him off. All the parents and staff in attendance no doubt appreciated the acknowledgements, but after a full quarter hour of talking I was getting pretty antsy for things to move along.

Nevertheless, once the opening remarks concluded, the Oberlin musicians were finally able to grace the Isaac Stern Auditorium with their abilities—and what a pleasure they were to hear!

First on the program was Johannes Brahms’s Tragic Overture, Op. 81, from 1880. There’s not much one can say about this work that hasn’t already been expressed over the last one hundred and forty years, so I won’t labor on it here. It’s a pleasant and undemanding symphonic poem, lasting about fourteen minutes and chock-full of the lyrical gestures typical of that Romantic master. Needless to say, the Oberlin musicians tackled the piece expertly, but it did leave me wanting to hear more of their technical skills.

I was not left wanting for long, however, as the second work of the evening—the New York premiere of Iván Enrique Rodríguez’s A Metaphor for Power—immediately livened up the proceedings.

Written in 2018, A Metaphor for Power is a single-movement essay for orchestra lasting about thirteen minutes. Rodríguez—a 32-year-old Puerto Rican native—composed the piece as a comment on the turbulence and inequalities of contemporary life in the United States, despite the promise of its founding (the title, indeed, comes from a quote by James Baldwin). His use of social commentary through music was much more subtle than that of other recent protest works, however (Anthony Davis’s quite overt You Have the Right to Remain Silent comes to mind), making for a composition that was both cleverly referential and electrifying to hear.

The music opened with a bang before quickly diminuendoing into dream-like textures, complete with harp, mallets, and woodwind writing that sounded as though they had descended straight from Maurice Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé. A contemplative middle section featured, among other memorable effects, distorted quotations from “America the Beautiful” and unsettling vocalizations from the orchestra as they recited overlapping lines from the Declaration of Independence. A great crescendo announced the beginning of the third, final section, which was marked by dramatic gestures that were almost filmic in execution. It all came to an energetic and wickedly engaging ending that lit up the room with excitement.

Above: Maestro Jiménez and composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez take a bow; photo by Fadi Kheir

The composer practically leapt from his seat and ran to the stage to share an emotional embrace with Jiménez before they took their bows together. The moment was as touching as it was well-earned. The composer having been unknown to me until that evening, I must say that I look forward to hearing much more from him in the future.

Above: the vocal soloists for the Dett oratorio: Chabrelle Williams, Ronnita Miller, Limmie Pulliam, and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The final and most substantial work of the evening was Robert Nathaniel Dett’s oratorio The Ordering of Moses. Dett, a Canadian-born American composer of the early 20th century, became the first black man to graduate with a double major from the Oberlin Conservatory in 1908. He initially wrote The Ordering of Moses as a thesis project while completing his Masters of Music from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester in 1932. Dett later revised and expanded the work, however, and it was premiered in its final form by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra under Eugene Goosens in 1937.

Clocking just under an hour, the oratorio is divided into nine sections and is cast for orchestra, chorus, and four vocal soloists. Joining the Oberlin musicians for this performance were soprano Chabrelle Williams, mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller, tenor Limmie Pulliam, and baritone Eric Greene.

Above: soloists Ronnita Miller and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The first section opened on warm instrumentation that favored the lower voices of the orchestra. A lone cello voice emerged for an occasional solo before Greene’s sonorous tones took center stage as “The Word,” describing the bondage of the Israelites under the Pharaoh. He was joined briefly by Miller, who cried out for mercy as the voice of the Israelites. The music was rather languid here, until a great exclamation of “Mercy, Lord” announced an upbeat transition into the second section, “Go Down Moses.”

A recent last-minute Metropolitan Opera debutant, tenor Limmie Pulliam (above, in a Fadu Kheir photo) then entered as the voice of the reluctant Moses, who is given the famous command by God, “Go down Moses, way down in Egypt’s land; tell Pharaoh: ‘Let my people go!’” (this section featured a particularly cheeky musical joke where Moses sings “I am slow of tongue!” at the most sluggish pace imaginable). The drama then moved fairly seamlessly into the third section “Is it not I, Jehovah!” as God affirms his edicts to Moses.

This was followed by a mostly uneventful instrumental interlude as the story was transported forward to Moses’s parting of the Red Sea (“And When Moses Smote the Water”). This exuberant, celebratory section was followed by two more instrumental interludes: “The March of the Israelites through the Red Sea” and “The Egyptians Pursue.” The former was an almost jaunty affair, complete with military snare and wordless chorus, while the latter featured brassy blasts and dramatic descending runs as the crashing waters swept away the pursuers.

Above: soprano Chabrelle Williams; photo by Fadi Kheir

Ms. Williams’s soaring vocals finally entered the proceedings in the waltz-like “The Word,” as the Israelites jovially sang praises to Jehovah. All forces joined for the triumphant finale “Sing Ye to Jehovah,” as the oratorio built to a final satisfying tutti instrumental blast.

Everyone performed splendidly throughout and the piece was met with one of the most enthusiastic standing ovations I’ve seen in a while, yet I couldn’t help feeling slightly underwhelmed by the music itself. Considering the scale of forces at work, the writing was not terribly economical. The instrumentation was often sparse and seldom were all of the elements brought together for fuller effect. The solo parts also heavily favored the male voices, leaving Williams and Miller very little to do for most of its duration.

This isn’t to say it was bad—far from it—, but it did leave me wanting a little bit more. Had Dett not died of a heart attack at the relatively young age of 60 in 1943, one cannot help but wonder what other and more exciting large scale works he might have brought to the concert hall. Nevertheless, it was exciting as always to hear a buried musical gem such as this get dusted off and given new life. It was a grand conclusion to another memorable concert by the Oberlin Conservatory musicians, who will hopefully return again soon to grace New York City audiences with another memorable program.

All performance photos by Fadi Kheir.

~ Brad S Ross

January 24, 2023
Oberlin Orchestra & Choral Ensembles/Carnegie Hall

Above: Maestro Raphael Jiménez with the Oberlin Orchestra at Carnegie Hall; photo by Fadi Kheir

Author: Brad S Ross

Friday January 20th, 2023 – On Friday evening, New York audiences were once again treated to a fine performance by the Oberlin Orchestra and Choral Ensembles as they returned to Carnegie Hall for the first time (publicly, anyway) since January 19, 2019. They were conducted by Oberlin Orchestras Director Raphael Jiménez, who led the performers in a unique program that included one repertory standard, one New York City premiere, and one buried gem.

The evening began with long—very long—opening remarks by Oberlin College and Conservatory President Carmen Twillie Ambar and Oberlin Conservatory Dean William Quillen.

Ambar’s remarks focused on two of the evening’s headlining pieces having been written by minority composers and therefore made all the requisite extollations about the need for representing historically marginalized groups. As important as this message is, it would be nice to hear the music of under-appreciated composers like Will Marion Cook, William Dawson, Florence Price, George Walker, etc., without this ever-obligatory preamble. My continued hope is that someday we will be able to let their music simply speak for itself.

Quillen’s remarks, while less political, were a seemingly endless list of “thank you”s, not unlike an Oscar acceptance speech—only this time, there was no hope of the music playing him off. All the parents and staff in attendance no doubt appreciated the acknowledgements, but after a full quarter hour of talking I was getting pretty antsy for things to move along.

Nevertheless, once the opening remarks concluded, the Oberlin musicians were finally able to grace the Isaac Stern Auditorium with their abilities—and what a pleasure they were to hear!

First on the program was Johannes Brahms’s Tragic Overture, Op. 81, from 1880. There’s not much one can say about this work that hasn’t already been expressed over the last one hundred and forty years, so I won’t labor on it here. It’s a pleasant and undemanding symphonic poem, lasting about fourteen minutes and chock-full of the lyrical gestures typical of that Romantic master. Needless to say, the Oberlin musicians tackled the piece expertly, but it did leave me wanting to hear more of their technical skills.

I was not left wanting for long, however, as the second work of the evening—the New York premiere of Iván Enrique Rodríguez’s A Metaphor for Power—immediately livened up the proceedings.

Written in 2018, A Metaphor for Power is a single-movement essay for orchestra lasting about thirteen minutes. Rodríguez—a 32-year-old Puerto Rican native—composed the piece as a comment on the turbulence and inequalities of contemporary life in the United States, despite the promise of its founding (the title, indeed, comes from a quote by James Baldwin). His use of social commentary through music was much more subtle than that of other recent protest works, however (Anthony Davis’s quite overt You Have the Right to Remain Silent comes to mind), making for a composition that was both cleverly referential and electrifying to hear.

The music opened with a bang before quickly diminuendoing into dream-like textures, complete with harp, mallets, and woodwind writing that sounded as though they had descended straight from Maurice Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé. A contemplative middle section featured, among other memorable effects, distorted quotations from “America the Beautiful” and unsettling vocalizations from the orchestra as they recited overlapping lines from the Declaration of Independence. A great crescendo announced the beginning of the third, final section, which was marked by dramatic gestures that were almost filmic in execution. It all came to an energetic and wickedly engaging ending that lit up the room with excitement.

Above: Maestro Jiménez and composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez take a bow; photo by Fadi Kheir

The composer practically leapt from his seat and ran to the stage to share an emotional embrace with Jiménez before they took their bows together. The moment was as touching as it was well-earned. The composer having been unknown to me until that evening, I must say that I look forward to hearing much more from him in the future.

Above: the vocal soloists for the Dett oratorio: Chabrelle Williams, Ronnita Miller, Limmie Pulliam, and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The final and most substantial work of the evening was Robert Nathaniel Dett’s oratorio The Ordering of Moses. Dett, a Canadian-born American composer of the early 20th century, became the first black man to graduate with a double major from the Oberlin Conservatory in 1908. He initially wrote The Ordering of Moses as a thesis project while completing his Masters of Music from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester in 1932. Dett later revised and expanded the work, however, and it was premiered in its final form by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra under Eugene Goosens in 1937.

Clocking just under an hour, the oratorio is divided into nine sections and is cast for orchestra, chorus, and four vocal soloists. Joining the Oberlin musicians for this performance were soprano Chabrelle Williams, mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller, tenor Limmie Pulliam, and baritone Eric Greene.

Above: soloists Ronnita Miller and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The first section opened on warm instrumentation that favored the lower voices of the orchestra. A lone cello voice emerged for an occasional solo before Greene’s sonorous tones took center stage as “The Word,” describing the bondage of the Israelites under the Pharaoh. He was joined briefly by Miller, who cried out for mercy as the voice of the Israelites. The music was rather languid here, until a great exclamation of “Mercy, Lord” announced an upbeat transition into the second section, “Go Down Moses.”

A recent last-minute Metropolitan Opera debutant, tenor Limmie Pulliam (above, in a Fadu Kheir photo) then entered as the voice of the reluctant Moses, who is given the famous command by God, “Go down Moses, way down in Egypt’s land; tell Pharaoh: ‘Let my people go!’” (this section featured a particularly cheeky musical joke where Moses sings “I am slow of tongue!” at the most sluggish pace imaginable). The drama then moved fairly seamlessly into the third section “Is it not I, Jehovah!” as God affirms his edicts to Moses.

This was followed by a mostly uneventful instrumental interlude as the story was transported forward to Moses’s parting of the Red Sea (“And When Moses Smote the Water”). This exuberant, celebratory section was followed by two more instrumental interludes: “The March of the Israelites through the Red Sea” and “The Egyptians Pursue.” The former was an almost jaunty affair, complete with military snare and wordless chorus, while the latter featured brassy blasts and dramatic descending runs as the crashing waters swept away the pursuers.

Above: soprano Chabrelle Williams; photo by Fadi Kheir

Ms. Williams’s soaring vocals finally entered the proceedings in the waltz-like “The Word,” as the Israelites jovially sang praises to Jehovah. All forces joined for the triumphant finale “Sing Ye to Jehovah,” as the oratorio built to a final satisfying tutti instrumental blast.

Everyone performed splendidly throughout and the piece was met with one of the most enthusiastic standing ovations I’ve seen in a while, yet I couldn’t help feeling slightly underwhelmed by the music itself. Considering the scale of forces at work, the writing was not terribly economical. The instrumentation was often sparse and seldom were all of the elements brought together for fuller effect. The solo parts also heavily favored the male voices, leaving Williams and Miller very little to do for most of its duration.

This isn’t to say it was bad—far from it—, but it did leave me wanting a little bit more. Had Dett not died of a heart attack at the relatively young age of 60 in 1943, one cannot help but wonder what other and more exciting large scale works he might have brought to the concert hall. Nevertheless, it was exciting as always to hear a buried musical gem such as this get dusted off and given new life. It was a grand conclusion to another memorable concert by the Oberlin Conservatory musicians, who will hopefully return again soon to grace New York City audiences with another memorable program.

All performance photos by Fadi Kheir.

~ Brad S Ross

January 23, 2023
Françoise Pollet sings Chausson

Françoise Pollet (above) gives a marvelous rendering of Ernest Chausson‘s Poème de l’amour et de la mer; the Orchestre Philharmonique de Monte-Carlo is conducted by Armin Jordan.

Listen here.

January 22, 2023
Renaud Capuçon/ORPHEUS @ Carnegie Hall

Saturday February 21st, 2023 – Violinist Renaud Capuçon (above, performance photo by Chris Lee) joining the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra at Carnegie Hall for a program featuring works by Hanna Benn, Sergei Prokofiev, and Modest Mussorgsky.

The East Coast premiere of Ms. Benn’s View (Un)titled, an Orpheus commission, opened the evening. The composer was inspired by artwork she had viewed at MoMA; she drew inspiration for the work’s structure from the beloved Mussorgsky piece which closed tonight’s program. Thus, View (Un)titled opens with a promenade: a walking motif set to a pacing rhythm from Orpheus’s rock-star bass player, Jordan Frazier.

The musical exploration of the various artworks (eight of them) showed that Ms. Benn is a composer who values melody; her music has a fresh and vital feeling, and she has a gift for making a visit to a museum seem important. Which it is!

As the movements unfolded, my companion and i lost track of exactly where in the order of the things we were. So we simply enjoyed the work as a whole: its rhythmic variety, the rich strings, the distinctive sounds of the wind voices, and the cunning use of percussion. Cinematic one moment and intimate the next, this music continually delighted the ear…and the imagination.

Above: composer Hanna Benn

Ms. Benn was called to the stage for a bow after her work was played, and she was warmly greeted by the audience; returning to her seat, Ms. Benn received another around of applause, and she made a charming curtsey to the hall. During the interval, she slowly made her way up the aisle, pausing for autographs and selfie seekers. One tiny girl wanted to meet her, but was overcome by shyness (I know how she feels!); Ms. Benn knelt and spoke to her, putting the child at ease, and then they had a photo together: really such a sweet moment.

M. Capuçon then took the stage for a stunning performance of Prokofiev’s Sonata in F-Minor in an arrangement by Andrei Pushkarev.

The opening Andante assai has a doleful feeling, from which the trilling of the violin emerges. Unison strings are heard in lamenting themes as M. Capuçon’s playing becomes increasingly passionate; the celli and bass play dirge-like passage. Now the enchanting sound of the marimba comes into play. The violinist executes slithering scales – and then a plucking passage – as the music fades away.

In the Allegro brusco which follows, a military mood is established, the celli and bass trudging along, the drums issuing a stirring summons. M. Capuçon takes up a song, the accompaniment dance-like. The pace picks up, and reaches the sizzling point. The striking of the wood block draws our attention to the orchestra’s percussionist de luxe, Maya Gunji, who at one point plays the snare and bass drum simultaneously. The violin sings forth again, and this militant movement marches to its end.

Now comes the sonata’s luminous Andante. The delicious sounds of the marimba create a dreamy mood, and a lyrical melody from M. Capuçon becomes a duet with cello. The sound of the violin shimmering on high and meshing with the marimba evokes thoughts of the same composer’s Opus 19/The Dreamer. Spine-tingling pianissimo arpeggios from the violinist bring the movement to an ethereal close.

The concluding movement has a bustling start; the percussionist is kept endlessly busy, as is the violinist. But in a surprise move, the music gradually transforms to an andante, the violin turning lyrical, a fugue developing, the marimba sounding isolated notes. A solo passage from the bass, and then the music slithers to silence.

Above: M. Capuçon danced and swayed throughout his performance…very engaging; photo above by Chris Lee. The violinist won a fervent ovation, the Orpheus players joining in. He was re-called to the stage for two extra bows; the crowd was clearly hoping for an encore, though I am not sure what could have followed M. Capuçon’s dazzling playing of the Prokofiev.

Modest Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition was given in a fresh arrangement by Jannina Norpoth, and she gets major kudos for her luxuriant, imaginative vision of the music. Ms. Norpoth took a bow at the end, winning much-deserved shouts of approval from the hall…and spirited applause from the players, too. Chris Lee captured the moment in the above photo.

A trumpet call heralds our entrance to the galleries where the pictures are on exhibition, and our tour is underway, interrupted periodically by a revisiting of the “promenade” theme. Applause between movements was distracting tonight, though understandable given the high level of the playing.

Gnomes, a dolorous march, is by turns bustling, eerie, and clumsy…and superbly played. The Old Castle is an evocative, very slow dance for solo cello, joined later by violin and viola. The charming Tuileries tells of a dispute between children at play in the gardens. Bassoonist Gina Cuffari took a star turn with the droll and lumbering Cattle – music which gets big by the end. The whimsical, fluttery Ballet of the Chicks in Their Shells was charmingly set forth, and then we have Samuel Goldenberg und Schmuyle, which paints a picture of two Jewish citizens – one rich and one poor. The Market at Limoges is brisk and joyous, with a fast finish; in contrast come the long, organ-like chords of The Catacombs. Next, we feel shivers of mystery in Among the Dead. Following the big and boisterous Hut on the Fowl’s Legs (based on Baba-Yaga), we at last stand before The Great Gates of Kiev: a timely reminder of the world in which we now live.

All of this was played sumptuously by the ladies and gentlemen of Orpheus, and the Carnegie acoustic suits them to a T: a wonderful night of music-making! At the end, the players and Ms. Norpoth formed a line-up stretching across the Carnegie Hall stage – Chris Lee’s photo above – enjoying the audience’s acclaim.

~ Oberon

January 21, 2023
Nobuyuki Tsujii @ Carnegie Hall

Thursday January 19th, 2023 – This evening, we welcomed the Japanese pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii back to Carnegie Hall. In 2018, I attended Nobu’s Carnegie debut with ORPHEUS: an exciting evening. In 2019, the pianist gave a solo recital in the famed venue, which I was sadly unable to attend.

Tonight’s concert began with a transcendent musical experience. Nobu, who is blind, was led to the Steinway where he seated himself and took the measure of the keyboard; he then commenced to play Beethoven’s immortal Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp Minor, Op. 27, No. 2, “Moonlight”. From the very first note, Nobu drew us deeply into the music. Playing in a whispered – but also miraculously weighted – pianissimo, he suffused the beloved melody with a spiritual resonance that is beyond rare. Sustaining this atmosphere throughout, Nobu held us under an enchantment. There was a palpable silence in the hallowed hall such as I have seldom – if ever – experienced in my six decades of concert-going.

As the final note of the Adagio sostenuto lingered on the air, my impulse was to get up and leave, taking this perfect memory with me. But, of course, I didn’t: I stayed on, listening to Nobu’s remarkable playing of the rest of the Moonlight and joining in the eager applause that followed.

Next came Franz Liszt’s Consolation No. 2 in E-Major; composed between 1844 and 1850 the Consolations are a set of six short pieces. The second of these has a gentle, shimmering start before turning pensive. Here, Nobu showed his gift for delicacy, and – later – for free-flowing lyricism.

The pianist then offered a sort of ‘Liszt encore’: Venezia e Napoli. The opening movement, Gondoliers, is evocative of a summer afternoon on the canals of Venice: mysterious at first, the music conjures up the water rippling in the sunlight. A song, such as the gondolier might sing, springs up: fanciful fiorature and tingling trills are dazzlingly set forth by the pianist. The ensuing Canzone has a lively start, but soon goes deep and dramatic; the canzone‘s finale is fantastically animated – “thousands of notes!”, I scrawled on my playbill – and was delivered by Nobu with pinpoint accuracy and unfettered joy. The pianist then further demonstrated his phenomenal dexterity in the concluding Tarantella.

For the second half of the program, Nobu turned first to Ravel: three relatively brief works were offered, starting with Menuet sur le nom d’Haydn. While gentle and charming, one could sense a haunted feeling lurking under the surface, which Nobu captured in his appealing interpretation. He then employed his vast dynamic range to sterling effect in the familiar Pavane pour une infante défunte, giving the music a touching beauty of expression. The luminous Jeux d’eau – one of the composer’s gems – is full of high, silvery undulations which seemed magical in Nobu’s hands.

The concert’s final work, Eight Concert Etudes by the Soviet composer Nikolai Kapustin, have an improvisational feeling, mixing classicism with elements of jazz. Composed in 1984, they are technically extremely demanding, filled as they are with torrents of notes played a supersonic speeds. Nobu dazzled us with the clarity and sureness of his technique. If the music itself began to wear a bit thin after a while, the pianist’s playing was simply remarkable. The audience was soon sighing aloud with disbelief or admiration as Nobu seemed to leap over one technical hurdle after another as he dashed to the finish line. This resulted in a boisterous standing ovation from the sold out house, and hundreds of cellphones were raised aloft to capture the excitement.

For Nobu’s first encore, J. S. Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring“, in an arrangement by Dame Myra Hess, he returned to the purity and depth of feeling with which the concert had started. Although we knew more encores would follow, I took my leave whilst the audience was cheering. I’ll never forget this evening, with Nobu mesmerizing us in the Moonlight.

~ Oberon

January 19, 2023
Amazing Grace

It doesn’t matter what your beliefs are…this song speaks to everyone.

Listen here.

Happy New Year to all.

December 30, 2022
Renata Scotto & Beniamino Prior ~ BALLO duet

Renata Scotto and Beniamino Prior sing the love duet from Verdi’s UN BALLO IN MASCHERA from a performance given at Dallas, Texas, in 1978.

Listen here.

December 29, 2022
Renée Fleming ~ Mahler’s Rückert Lieder

Renée Fleming sings Gustav Mahler’s Rückert Lieder with pianist Maciej Pikulski. The concert took place in 2012 at the Musikverein Großer Saal, Vienna.

Watch and listen here.

December 29, 2022
Renée Fleming ~ Mahler’s Rückert Lieder

Renée Fleming sings Gustav Mahler’s Rückert Lieder with pianist Maciej Pikulski. The concert took place in 2012 at the Musikverein Großer Saal, Vienna.

Watch and listen here.

December 28, 2022