Category: Ballet

Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday December 27th, 2017 – My friend Dmitry and I are fans of Yefim Bronfman, so this evening’s concert by The New York Philharmonic was a perfect classical-music finale for the year 2017.

The evening opened with the overture to Smetana’s opera THE BARTERED BRIDE. I first heard this overture played live when James Levine chose it to open the Metropolitan Opera’s 100th anniversary gala in 1983. The gala (in two parts – matinee and evening) was telecast worldwide, but I was fortunate to have been in the House for the afternoon program. Let’s just say, they don’t make opera galas like that any more.

It was great fun to hear the jolly, rambunctious Smetana overture again tonight under Bramwell Tovey’s baton; the Maestro set an exhilarating, ultra-fast pace for this music, and the Philharmonic artists took up his challenge: they played brilliantly and seemed truly to be having fun into the bargain. The music passes thru many modulations along the way, and solo moments sparkle forth – notably from Sherry Sylar’s oboe – as we are danced along in a lively manner. Really, an ideal concert-opener.

Mr. Bronfman then appeared for the Bartok 2nd piano concerto. Following an ascending flourish from the Steinway, the first movement commences with rather wild brass fanfares. The piano sounds restless, set against winds; the turbulence builds only to subside, and Mr. Brofman’s playing turns subtle. Following another brass and piano build-up, there’s a full stop. Thereafter the music seems more melodious, though droll and ironic. The brass get quite noisy before the pianist silences them with a cadenza that flows up and down the keyboard. After a passage for flutes and piano, the soloist plays a double rising motif.

Pensive strings introduce the the Adagio which develops into a marvelous duet for piano and timpani. Here Mr. Bronfman and timpanist Marcus Rhoten created an incredible atmosphere: moody and a bit ominous. Suddenly things perk up without warning and we are in a scherzo-like realm with an agitato feeling and with the pianist finding unusual delicacies. Mr. Bronfman then commences a remarkable pianissimo trill that goes on and on over misterioso strings.

For the concerto’s finale, Bartók gets almost jazzy – in a slightly darkish way – and we hear from the trumpets; a feeling of a kind of war dance evolves. Another piano/percussion duet crops up – this time it’s Steinway vs bass drum – before the music turns unexpectedly dreamy. But the dream is short-lived as the trumpets re-awaken and the concerto ends brightly. Mr. Bronfman was well in his element throughout, his playing agile and multi-hued, with fine dynamic contrasts. The orchestra did their soloist proud.

By way of perfect contrast to his grand-scale playing of the Bartók, Mr. Bronfman chose for an encore Chopin’s Étude in E Major, Op.10, No.3. The opening melody of this work, thought to have been Chopin’s favorite among the études, was later the source of a vocal song arranged by the soprano Félia Litvinne and recorded famously by Litvinne’s pupil, the tragic Germaine Lubin. This evening, Mr. Bronfman’s poetic rendering of the full étude cast a thoughtful spell over the hall. This magical experience, like so many others in recent years, was sadly spoilt in its most poignant passage by the ringing of a cellphone. Yet Mr. Bronfman continued, unperturbed, and left me a beautiful memory to cherish.

Above: Bramwell Tovey

Following the interval, an exciting performance of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exposition (in the Ravel orchestration) again found the orchestra on peak form. Opening with a brass chorale Promenade, which recurs with variations during the first seven movements, the suite conjures up visions of the works of Viktor Hartmann. Upon Hartmann’s death in 1874 at the young age of 39, an exhibition of his work was mounted at St. Petersburg. Mussorgsky visited the exhibit and was inspired by what he saw to write a set of miniatures for piano. In 1922, Maurice Ravel orchestrated the pieces.

A huge orchestra is in play, including five percussionists, two harps, and celesta. The ponderous Gnome, the child-like and playful Tuileries, the plodding Ox-Cart, the mini-scherzo of the Ballet of Unhatched Chicks, the bustling Marketplace at Limoges, the Roman Catacombs (deep brass), and the fanciful Hut of Baba-Yaga are all evoked in coloristic settings which the Philharmonic players delivered with evident affection.

The movement which most impressed me was Il Vecchio Castello (The Old Castle) in which flutes, oboe, and bassoon were joined by the mellow, distinctive voice of the alto saxophone. This music was so evocative that I got lost in it.

The suite ends on a grand note with The Great Gate of Kiev. Sumptuously played, it brought a year full of music to an imperial finish.

~ Oberon

December 28, 2017
Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday December 27th, 2017 – My friend Dmitry and I are fans of Yefim Bronfman, so this evening’s concert by The New York Philharmonic was a perfect classical-music finale for the year 2017.

The evening opened with the overture to Smetana’s opera THE BARTERED BRIDE. I first heard this overture played live when James Levine chose it to open the Metropolitan Opera’s 100th anniversary gala in 1983. The gala (in two parts – matinee and evening) was telecast worldwide, but I was fortunate to have been in the House for the afternoon program. Let’s just say, they don’t make opera galas like that any more.

It was great fun to hear the jolly, rambunctious Smetana overture again tonight under Bramwell Tovey’s baton; the Maestro set an exhilarating, ultra-fast pace for this music, and the Philharmonic artists took up his challenge: they played brilliantly and seemed truly to be having fun into the bargain. The music passes thru many modulations along the way, and solo moments sparkle forth – notably from Sherry Sylar’s oboe – as we are danced along in a lively manner. Really, an ideal concert-opener.

Mr. Bronfman then appeared for the Bartok 2nd piano concerto. Following an ascending flourish from the Steinway, the first movement commences with rather wild brass fanfares. The piano sounds restless, set against winds; the turbulence builds only to subside, and Mr. Brofman’s playing turns subtle. Following another brass and piano build-up, there’s a full stop. Thereafter the music seems more melodious, though droll and ironic. The brass get quite noisy before the pianist silences them with a cadenza that flows up and down the keyboard. After a passage for flutes and piano, the soloist plays a double rising motif.

Pensive strings introduce the the Adagio which develops into a marvelous duet for piano and timpani. Here Mr. Bronfman and timpanist Marcus Rhoten created an incredible atmosphere: moody and a bit ominous. Suddenly things perk up without warning and we are in a scherzo-like realm with an agitato feeling and with the pianist finding unusual delicacies. Mr. Bronfman then commences a remarkable pianissimo trill that goes on and on over misterioso strings.

For the concerto’s finale, Bartók gets almost jazzy – in a slightly darkish way – and we hear from the trumpets; a feeling of a kind of war dance evolves. Another piano/percussion duet crops up – this time it’s Steinway vs bass drum – before the music turns unexpectedly dreamy. But the dream is short-lived as the trumpets re-awaken and the concerto ends brightly. Mr. Bronfman was well in his element throughout, his playing agile and multi-hued, with fine dynamic contrasts. The orchestra did their soloist proud.

By way of perfect contrast to his grand-scale playing of the Bartók, Mr. Bronfman chose for an encore Chopin’s Étude in E Major, Op.10, No.3. The opening melody of this work, thought to have been Chopin’s favorite among the études, was later the source of a vocal song arranged by the soprano Félia Litvinne and recorded famously by Litvinne’s pupil, the tragic Germaine Lubin. This evening, Mr. Bronfman’s poetic rendering of the full étude cast a thoughtful spell over the hall. This magical experience, like so many others in recent years, was sadly spoilt in its most poignant passage by the ringing of a cellphone. Yet Mr. Bronfman continued, unperturbed, and left me a beautiful memory to cherish.

Above: Bramwell Tovey

Following the interval, an exciting performance of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exposition (in the Ravel orchestration) again found the orchestra on peak form. Opening with a brass chorale Promenade, which recurs with variations during the first seven movements, the suite conjures up visions of the works of Viktor Hartmann. Upon Hartmann’s death in 1874 at the young age of 39, an exhibition of his work was mounted at St. Petersburg. Mussorgsky visited the exhibit and was inspired by what he saw to write a set of miniatures for piano. In 1922, Maurice Ravel orchestrated the pieces.

A huge orchestra is in play, including five percussionists, two harps, and celesta. The ponderous Gnome, the child-like and playful Tuileries, the plodding Ox-Cart, the mini-scherzo of the Ballet of Unhatched Chicks, the bustling Marketplace at Limoges, the Roman Catacombs (deep brass), and the fanciful Hut of Baba-Yaga are all evoked in coloristic settings which the Philharmonic players delivered with evident affection.

The movement which most impressed me was Il Vecchio Castello (The Old Castle) in which flutes, oboe, and bassoon were joined by the mellow, distinctive voice of the alto saxophone. This music was so evocative that I got lost in it.

The suite ends on a grand note with The Great Gate of Kiev. Sumptuously played, it brought a year full of music to an imperial finish.

~ Oberon

December 27, 2017
Upcoming: Barnard/Columbia Dances @ NYLA

The premiere of Claudia Schreier’s ballet SPLINTER is one of the works featured on a program at New York Live Arts by Barnard/Columbia Dances. The performance dates are November 30th, December 1st, and two shows on December 2nd. Tickets and more information here.

Claudia’s SPLINTER gets its name from the Marc Mellits score from which she draws six of eight movements for her dancework. Each movement is named after a type of tree. It’s quite dynamic music, with passing moments of reverie.

Above: Claudia Schreier and dancers in rehearsal

November 20, 2017
Flute Affair @ Chamber Music Society
Above: flautists Ransom Wilson and Tara Helen O’Connor

Author: Oberon

Sunday November 19th, 2017 – In a well-conceived program of works composed in four different centuries, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center presented two of today’s foremost flautists – Tara Helen O’Connor and Ransom Wilson – joined by an ensemble of top-flight artists. The ink’s probably not totally dry yet on John Luther Adams’ newest score, a CMS co-commission having its New York premiere this evening.

Music of Bach opened the concert: his Trio Sonata in G-major for two flutes and continuo was given an elegant performance by Ms. O’Connor and Mr. Wilson, with cellist Timothy Eddy and Juho Pohjonen at the harpsichord providing a gracious continuo. The sound of blending flutes has an enchantment that few other instruments playing in duo can evoke. The sonata’s Adagio e piano has an air of sweet melancholy, and in the propulsive rhythmic figures of the two Allegro sections, Mr. Eddy made music that went beyond keeping time.

For Mozart’s C-major flute quartet, K 285b, Ms. O’Connor was joined by violinist Kristin Lee, violist Paul Neubauer, and cellist Timothy Eddy. In this two-movement work, the composer keeps the flute prominent but doesn’t neglect the other instruments. Rising from the gentle flow of the opening Allegro, Ms. O’Connor’s quicksilver fluting sends a melodic line over to Ms. Lee’s violin. The strings provide a rich yet cultivated blend. We then head into the second movement: a theme-and-variations setting. The theme feels like a courtly dance; in the first variation the flute sings over gently rocking strings. Ms. Lee shines in the second variation and Mr. Eddy in the third, where the Neubauer viola injects an insinuating little phrase that’s so delicious. The fourth variation takes a minor-key turn, with a sighing quality. Flute-song is the attractive essence of the fifth variation: Ms. O’Connor’s playing is soft and sweet. The sprightly closing variation is in spirit of the country dance known as the Ländler. It’s a short dance, but full of charm.

Above: composer John Luther Adams

The new Adams was up next: ‘there is no one, not even the wind’ proved to be both intriguing and a bit problematic. The stage had been set for the work’s large ensemble, which includes our two flautists – Ms.O’Connor now playing alto flute – two percussionists (the excellent Ayano Kataoka and Ian David Rosenbaum, with a marimba for each…and a bass drum as well), piano (Mr. Pohjonen), violin (Ms. Lee), viola (Mr. Neubauer), cello (Mr. Eddy), and bass Anthony Manzo.

The music begins delicately with the striking of individual bell tones. Ms. Lee’s violin enters on high; slowly, the other voices of the ensemble are mixed in: we seem to be floating thru space and time. Piercing flute notes from Mr. Wilson seem like signals from distant worlds; meanwhile Ms. O’Connor’s alto flute evokes ancient realms on Earth. Notes struck on the marimbas linger on the air, enveloping us in mystery.The bass drum sounds like distant thunder, with deep piano tones adding to an ominous feeling. The flutes resume; the music transcends reality as sound-clouds move across the horizon of the mind.

The music is marvelously crafted and – needless to say – magically played. But there’s simply too much of it: even the most poetic dream can outlast itself. An annoying cougher infringed on the atmosphere, and a sense of restlessness began to intrude. Much as I loved the sounds I was hearing, I began to wonder if we had been adrift too long. And yet, I could definitely listen to this work again – preferably at home, where the imagination could be allowed full play.

During the interval, there was considerable buzz about the Adams work: from what I could gather, people around us found it essentially fascinating but too extended.

Above: composer Henri Dutilleux around the time he wrote his Sonatine

Henri Dutilleux passed away in 2013 at the age of 97. His Sonatine for flute and piano was commissioned by the Paris Conservatory as a test piece for the graduating flautists of 1942; tonight, Ransom Wilson and Juho Pohjonen turned it into ten minutes of magic.
The Sonatine begins mysteriously, the piano soon entwined with the flute. The music is very “French” with lingerings in the upper range and twisty rising scales. A bird-song cadenza shows off Mr. Wilson’s fluency of technique; this leads to a lyrical developmental section. There’s a full stop, and then rippling figurations from the piano draw us into music that’s light, bright, and subtly ironic. The piano writing turns grand before another cadenza – this one heading downhill – carries us on to a witty speed-up to the end. The audience gave the players – and the piece – a warm reception. I’m going to tell some of my choreographer-friends about it.

We bounced back to the second decade of the 19th century for the evening’s final work: the Septet in D-minor by Johann Nepomuk Hummel. Dating from 1816, this septet sounds rather ahead of its time, thanks to the composer’s ideas about instrumentation, harmony, and modulation. It’s a piece that brings the listener a sense of elation in both its musical freshness and its inspired instrumentation: Hummel calls for a trio of strings and a trio of winds, and he sets them off brilliantly against writing for the piano that calls for great virtuosity and sensitivity.

Within moments of the start of the Hummel, the audience could grasp the fact that the man at the Steinway, Juho Pohjonen (above), was playing with extraordinary dexterity, feeling, and commitment. He wasn’t just playing the notes, but investing them with colour and nuance – one could often sense a full dynamic range within a single passage; and how fine were Mr. Pohjonen’s taperings of the many scale phrases to keep us under his spell. When the septet ended, his colleagues urged the pianist to step forward where he was greeted by a barrage of bravos. Called back to the stage, the players sent Mr. Pohjonen out first, then they all held back so that he had a solo bow. It was one of my favorite moments from among the many evenings I’ve spent at Alice Tully Hall.

The Hummel is simply bursting with great opportunities for each of the seven players to show what they can do. After a full-bodied start, hesitations creep in. Mr. Manzo’s bass makes the first of numerous incursions with rich, rhythmic sound. Mr. Neubauer’s viola pulses as the three wind players comment. Meanwhile, the piano writing is a joy to hear as Mr. Pohjonen veers from extroverted to delicate in the twinkling of an eye. He can be pensive at one moment and wryly light-hearted the next. Before the first movement ends, Mr. Eddy’s cello has its say.

“It’s a piano thing!”, I wrote as the second movement commenced: it’s cleverly marked Menuetto o scherzo by the composer, and the bass gets us involved before the piano again draws our attention. Cello and viola meld with smooth sounds from Eric Reed’s horn; Mr. Reed repeatedly sustains notes which lead into melodic motifs.

In the Andante cantabile, a melody gets passed about with variations. Mr. Pohjonen dazzles us yet again, later adopting a ‘toy piano’ sound for some fanciful coloratura. A slow-rising tutti sends the piano swirling; the bass lures us to a fun finish.

The forward impetus of the concluding Vivace brings us to a conversation between the Neubauer viola and James Austin Smith’s congenial oboe; Mr. Eddy has a heartfelt cello passage with piano, and then Ms. O’Connor’s flute blends beautifully with the oboe and horn as Mr. Pohjonen’s playing is honed down to a thread. Cascades of notes from the keyboard underscore the final measures of this fantastic piece.

Bach Trio Sonata in G-major for Two Flutes and Continuo, BWV 1039 (c. 1736-41)

Mozart Quartet in C-major for Flute, Violin, Viola, and Cello, K. 285b (1781)

J. L. Adams there is no one, not even the wind for Two Flutes, Two Percussionists, Piano, Violin, Viola, Cello, and Bass (New York Premiere, CMS Co-Commission) (2017)

Dutilleux Sonatine for Flute and Piano (1943)

Hummel Septet in D-minor for Flute, Oboe, Horn, Viola, Cello, Bass, and Piano, Op. 74 (c. 1816)

~ Oberon
November 19, 2017
Lubovitch’s LEGEND OF TEN @ Martha Graham

Above: Abdiel Cedric Jacobsen and Anne Souder of the Martha Graham Dance Company; photo by Nir Arieli

~ Author: Oberon

Friday November 17th, 2017 – The renowned choreographer Lar Lubovitch will celebrate the 50th anniversary of his Company in the coming Spring when the Lar Lubovitch Dance Company will perform two programs at the Joyce Theater from April 17th through April 22nd, 2018. Joining in the celebration, the dancers of the Martha Graham Dance Company will perform the Lubovitch masterpiece LEGEND OF TEN, set to Johannes Brahms’s Piano Quintet in F minor; the Lubovitch Company premiered this work in 2010.

This afternoon, photographer Nir Arieli and I stopped by at the Graham Studios at Westbeth to watch a rehearsal of LEGEND OF TEN. The Graham dancers are the crème de la crème of the dance world: in their combination of athleticism and artistry, they have few rivals. On top of that, they’re all really nice people. So any chance to be in their presence has a special meaning for me.

I’ve seen LEGEND OF TEN three times in the past, danced by the Lubovitch Company. Yet today, I was struck afresh by its power and beauty. Taking wing on the Brahms score, LEGEND sends the dancers swirling thru dynamic movement that melds ballet motifs with elements of folk dance.

In the course of today’s rehearsal, Mr. Lubovitch did quite a bit of dancing himself as he demonstrated for the Graham dancers. Assisting Mr. Lubovitch was Kate Skarpetowska – an estimable choreographer in her own right who has danced with the Lubovitch Company and is intimately familiar with his work.

Here’s a gallery of Nir Arieli’s images from this afternoon:

From left: Ben Schultz, Anne O’Donnell, Kate Skarpetowska, So Young An, Leslie Andrea Williams, Lorenzo Pagano

Abdiel Cedric Jacobsen, Anne Souder, and Kate Skarpetowska

Watching a film of LEGEND with Mr. Lubovitch

Lar Lubovitch coaching Abdiel and Anne Souder in a duet passage

Anne Souder and Anne O’Donnell

Leslie Andrea Williams

So Young An

Lorenzo Pagano

Ari Mayzick, Anne O’Donnell

Abdiel Cedric Jacobsen

Ecstatic moment

Abdiel with Anne Souder: pas de deux…continued below…

Ensemble: Ari, Ben, Lorenzo, Laurel Dalley Smith, Leslie

Leslie Andrea Williams

Abdiel and Anne Souder

Leslie Andrea Williams

Many thanks to Denise Vale of the Graham Company for helping to arrange today’s studio visit, and also to Janet Eilber, publicist Janet Stapleton, to Mr. Lubovitch and Ms. Skarpetowska for letting us eavesdrop on their process, and – of course – to the phenomenal dancers. And although they weren’t dancing today, it was great to catch up briefly with Ying Xin and The Lloyds: Knight and Mayor.

All photos by Nir Arieli.

~ Oberon

November 18, 2017
André Watts|ORPHEUS @ Carnegie Hall

Above: pianist André Watts, photo by David Bazemore

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday October 26th, 2016 – Pianist André Watts joined ORPHEUS this evening as the beloved chamber orchestra kicked off their 2017-2018 Carnegie Hall season with a New York premiere and classics by Mozart and Beethoven. We learned that 600 school-children were in attendance – up in the balcony – having been provided with tickets free of charge. A subtitle for the program might have been “Pianists Who Compose”, as Mozart, Beethoven, and Iyer each first won renown at the keyboard.

American composer Vijay Iyer (above) is a jazz pianist, bandleader, producer, electronic musician, and writer. Tonight ORPHEUS offered the New York premiere of Mr. Iyer’s Asunder, an eclectic and vastly pleasing work that suits the ORPHEUS players to perfection.

In his program note, Mr. Iyer said that, on first receiving the ORPHEUS commission, he thought of writing a piece that would reflect the current deep divisions in our country and “…how it feels to be an American today: pulled apart, broken, anxious, untethered…” He thought of writing big, violent music but then he chose instead to write a piece that “…imagines unity anew…” Bravo! for taking such a stance, Mr. Iyer.

Asunder is presented in four movements; it opens with pacing horns and an oddly noble feeling. Pulsing rhythms and a somewhat ominous timpani carry us thru to a passage for strident winds. Swirls of notes from both strings and winds allude to the movement’s title: Agitated. It ends with dour, deep sounds.

Marked Patient and mysterious, the second movement begins with plucking and a jazzy piccolo solo over bass and cello. A Mid-Eastern flavour permeates; following a build-up to an almost militant passage, a Glassian repetitive motif takes over and we settle into a slow sway.

Calm and precise, like clockwork begins with a gorgeous flute solo; bell tones and other percussive effects designate the effect of time. A repeated downward passage is repeated just a few too many times (my sole reservation about the work).

Solo oboe over bass accompaniment opens the concluding Lush movement; then a rather drowsy clarinet takes over. The Mid-East is evoked again as the music assumes the feeling of a desert journey, then pulses up over deep bass notes. The glockenspiel sounds again, and after a plucked passage the finale turns cinematic.

Percussionist Maya Gunji did a great job in the Iyer, as did several of her woodwind colleagues, though I couldn’t see them clearly enough to name names. And the strings sounded superb…all evening, in fact. Mr. Iyer was called to the stage and was enthusiastically applauded by audience and musicians alike.

The Steinway was then rolled out, and André Watts appeared to a warm welcome from the Carnegie audience.

André Watts came to public prominence at the age of 16 when Leonard Bernstein chose him as a soloist, making his New York Philharmonic debut on one of the orchestra’s Young People’s Concerts – a concert which was broadcast nationwide on CBS-TV. Two weeks later, Bernstein again called upon the young and charismatic Mr. Watts to substitute at the last minute for the ailing Glenn Gould in performances of Liszt’s E-flat Concerto with the New York Philharmonic. In 1976, André Watts’ recital for the Live From Lincoln Center series was the first full-length recital broadcast in the history of television.

The Watts career has spanned over half a century, interrupted at times by health issues. Now 70 years old, he plays with the energy and distinction that have endeared him to audiences worldwide over the decades; he played, in fact, like a very jeune homme.

Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 9, composed in January 1777, picked up the appellation “Jeunehomme” “young man”) by mistake when Mozart’s mention (in a letter) of the name of the young pianist who inspired the work – Victoire Jenamy (1749-1812) – somehow got scrambled from Jenamy to Jeunehomme. Victoire was the daughter of the famous 18th-century ballet master Noverre, and she was apparently in Salzburg during the winter of 1776-77 where she met Mozart. This was the first of the composer’s piano concertos to appear in print, published in Paris around 1780.

My first impression of Mr. Watts as he began to play (I’d never heard him live before) was: “He makes the piano sing!” This concerto is very demanding, and – as the pianist remarks in his program note – shows such maturity of writing from a 21-year-old that we could easily be convinced it comes from a later time in the Mozart’s career. It is, overall, music that brings genuine comfort and joy.

In the opening Allegro, Mr. Watts displayed a light touch in a series of delicious trills, with much charming filigree; yet there was also warm power and rhythmic vitality to be enjoyed. An elaborate cadenza held the audience in silent thrall. The following Andantino begins in a somber mood, and the pianist’s sad song (again with some sweet trills) was expressively played. As a more hopeful feeling rises, the orchestra has a really lovely passage: the music has an unusual sense of containment, of assurance and grace. A downward-flowing cadenza, with yet more intriguing trills, showed Mr. Watts’ control and artistic depth.

The finale, a Rondo, commences with virtuosic feats from the pianist. A fine flow develops, with cascades of piano notes. In the middle of the movement, Mozart injects a courtly Minuet interlude, introduced by the soloist who unfurls the melody gently over a pizzicato accompaniment. Another cadenza, now with a rising aspect, again gives us savourable trills.

The audience abundantly hailed Mr. Watts and the ORPHEUS players: a full standing-ovation ensued. We hoped for an encore, but the pianist – perhaps wisely – left us to our Mozartean reveries.

Following a longish intermission, the Beethoven 1st symphony provided a perfect finale to the evening. We’d just heard this work a couple of weeks ago, played by the Orchestra of St. Luke’s in this very hall. It’s such a cordial piece, and I’ve grown really fond of it. It was nice to hear it again so soon.

The Beethoven 1st is the symphony that seems to start mid-phrase. The ORPHEUS players gave a marvelous performance, with a breadth and richness of sound that filled the venerable space. Rhythmic acuity and some lovely solo bits from the winds players engaged us from first note to last, and made for an impressive end to a thoroughly satisfying evening of music-making.

The Program:

VIJAY IYER: Asunder (New York Premiere)

MOZART: Piano Concerto No. 9, K. 271 “Jeunehomme”

BEETHOVEN: Symphony No. 1

~ Oberon

October 26, 2017
Tero Saarinen Company @ The Joyce

Above: from Tero Saarinen’s Morphed; photo by Günther Gröger

~ Author: Oberon

Friday October 20th, 2017 – Tero Saarinen Company, one of Europe’s premiere contemporary dance companies, presenting Morphed, an all-male work, at The Joyce.

With a running time of just over one hour, Morphed is performed by seven dancers of varying ages and physiques on a truly fascinating set designed by Bessie-award winner Mikki Kunttu, who also supervised the excellent lighting. Finnish fashion designer Teemu Muurimäki’s black & white costumes ideally completed the visual setting. While the eye was constantly intrigued, the ear could revel in music drawn from three works by Finnish composer Esa-Pekka Salonen. Blending all these elements into a cohesive whole made for one of the most satisfying evenings of dance I’ve encountered in the past two decades.

The sound of the French horn (my instrument!) commenced even as the lights went down immediately seizing the imagination, conjuring visions of both the dawn and of the hunt. This gorgeous music is Salonen’s Concert étude for solo horn (composed 2000). In a space surrounded on three sides by hanging ropes, the seven dancers – all in black hoods – simply walk and walk; sometimes their walking seems casual and free, at other times more regimented. The scene brightens and the dancers appear in silhouette.

The hoods come off, and new music takes over – from Salonen’s Foreign Bodies (2001) – which has a kozmic energy. The hanging ropes become part of the choreography as the men walk among them, gathering them, grasping them for support, sending them flying. Solo and duet passages unfold, observed (or ignored) by the men who are not dancing at the moment. One especially powerful pas de deux climaxes with one man dragging the other about by the shirt on his back.

Suddenly the music goes haywire and things get wild; the dancers rush about until calm is restored and the music becomes slow and other-worldly. Then, linking arms, the men begin to swirl like a turning wheel. The hanging ropes are activated, creating a mass effect of contrasted motions in the space: really impressive!

Silence falls, and the agitato of Salonen’s violin concerto accompanies a lighting shift to blue. A solo is danced, which morphs into a trio. Bits of clothing start to come off. Then golden light settles in, and a stylized duet, with motifs reminiscent of Nijinsky’s Faune, is yet another compelling passage. The dancers, some of them now shirtless, continue to move, to strike poses, or to repose upon the floor as the curtain falls.

I think the highest praise I can give to Saarinen’s Morphed is that, when it ended, I was ready to sit thru it again.

~ Oberon

October 20, 2017
Destinations: A Dancer’s Journey

Above: Francesco Pireddu

In 2011, the Sardinian dancer Francesco Pireddu appeared with Roberto Villanueva’s BalaSole Dance Company here in New York City. Francesco’s solo, Silence, was a highlight of the show. A few weeks ago, I heard from Francesco; together we arranged for him to write an article for my blog. And here it is:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Destinations: A Dancer’s Journey ~ Guest Author: Francesco Pireddu

“Hi. My name is Francesco Pireddu. And, like each one of us, I have a story.

When I look at my childhood I see a small, very small village in the middle of the mountains, in the beautiful Italian island called Sardinia. My parents, myself, three brothers and one sister. A big Italian family surrounded by gorgeous nature, visited by particularly cold winters and delighted with bright and hot summers. There was not much to do, apart from going to school, doing the homework and help my mother out in the house. Discipline, simplicity and rigor were the key notes of my family’s life. I was profoundly drawn to everything that wasn’t there: dance, performance, self-expression in the deepest form. I needed to explore. And, as soon as I finished high school, I left.

> First destination: Rome. I was excited, determined and scared. Dance and acting: that’s all I wanted to do, and I ran to register at the most prestigious acting school. I was told that, first things first, there was a “three-monologues-audition” to prepare. Three monologues? Did I have to perform three monologues in front of a bunch of people? No, thanks. I was too shy. Very self-conscious. The day after, I registered at one of the most famous dance schools and I felt so much better. Ballet, modern and improvisation classes: I was in my element. The movement was a beautiful journey. My body language was exposed and explored.

> Second destination: Tuscany. Without a formal audition I was chosen to perform with Micha Van Hoecke, the renowned Belgian director. He was preparing RIGOLETTO, one of the greatest Italian operas by Giuseppe Verdi. Later, I joined Lindsay Kemp’s ensemble and toured the country with LE MASCHERE, a joyful and engaging operetta by Mascagni based on La Commedia dell’Arte. I was happy and proud of being part of such huge productions, and working with Lindsay Kemp, the great choreographer and director who worked closely with artists such as David Bowie and Kate Bush, is definitely one of the best experiences of my career.

In Tuscany I also kept working on my craft and I intensely studied ballet with Marina Van Hoecke, a gifted and demanding teacher who trained Maurice Bejart’s male dancers for more than a decade. Her gentle and tough personality, her immense knowledge and captivating spirit defined profoundly my journey and improved my foundation.

> Third destination: London. One day, Marina, out of the blue, said to me: “I don’t want you in my class anymore. Go somewhere else”. I was devastated. Speechless. I could not understand. I didn’t do anything wrong and I was a devoted student. Why was she pushing me away? It took me many years to understand that the people who really love you and believe in you are the ones who let you go or make you go. Since then, rejection hurts me minimally. I like to believe that that lesson was part of the training.

In London I performed at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, in productions such as BORIS GODUNOV and LA FORZA DEL DESTINO, and I studied ballet with teachers such as Roland Price, Romayne Grigorova, Joan Hewson and Raymond Chai.

> Fourth destination: New York. On my first day in the Big Apple I walked from 42nd street to 75th and Broadway and I ended up at Steps Dance Studio. I still remember the energy, the vibrancy that only a dance studio emanates. I was watching a ballet class and eating a massive walnut muffin. A tall and gentle lady was next to me. She was staring at me and started to ask me simple questions such as: what’s your name? Where are you from? Are you a dancer…..? And a conversation was born. She asked me to audition for her company and, a week later, I found myself in Hartford, Connecticut, rehearsing the Albano NUTRACKER. We performed in different cities and at Mohegan Sun arena.

I am still in New York City and so many beautiful things have happened: I performed at New York Live Arts with Balasole Dance Company (photo above, by Kokyat); at Dixon Place I co-created a solo with the director Albert Andrew Garcia for his new show “Tryptych”, and I was cast as a dancer and actor in the off-Broadway musical “The Raja’s Son and Princess Labam”. Last season I was in AIDA at the Metropolitan Opera and I am currently in their production of TURANDOT. Along the way I was cast in numerous commercials such as: Chase Bank Holiday, JA Bank, Mountain Dew, Bud Light beer and Pima cotton sheets. I made my screen debut in the movie “Top Broker” and I just finished shooting the first season of the series “Play Love”.

Above: Francesco performing in Table of Silence

Last September I joined the Buglisi Dance Company at the Lincoln Plaza in Table of Silence: with a beautiful and emotional dance tribute we remembered and honored the victims of 9/11 and the event was seen livestream all over the world. I was honored to be part of such a remarkable event.

Oh, and in New York City I closed the circle: I trained full-time for two years at HB Studio, the prestigious acting school.

I treasure my experiences. From a village of 600 people, zero money and infinite obstacles, my journey surprises me every day. Next destination: the next rejection(s)! Only then and there do miracles happen.”

~ Guest Author: Francesco Pireddu

October 19, 2017
Boston Trio @ Weill Hall

Above: The Boston Trio: Heng-Jin Park, piano; Jonah Ellsworth, cello; Irina Muresanu, violin

Author: Oberon

Thursday September 28th, 2017 – Inaugurating my 2017-2018 Carnegie season with an ensemble new to me – the Boston Trio – in concert at Weill Hall. In terms of both programming and playing, the evening (aptly sub-titled Wheel of Colors) was a genuine pleasure; a large and very attentive audience made for a congenial atmosphere.

The program was finely-constructed, with some ‘new’ music to begin, followed by an incredibly inventive arrangement of a symphonic classic, and concluding with a familiar and beloved Dvořák piano trio. We sat close, on the keyboard side, and were deeply immersed in the music. The pianist wore red, the violinist a lovely pale lemon-yellow frock, and the cellist an open-collar blue shirt; they were as pleasing to watch as to hear, and Ms. Muresanu’s elegant posture was an added delight.

Jennifer Higdon: Piano Trio

I. Pale Yellow

II. Fiery Red

I admit to being unfamiliar with Jennifer Higdon‘s music, though her name figures prominently among current composers. The two movements of Higdon’s Piano Trio seemed like miniature tone poems, and they were superbly played by the Boston Trio.

In the first, Pale Yellow, the composer reveals a romantic bent: the music is lyrical, melodious, devoid of angularity. Yet while harkening back to a more gracious era, the piece seems utterly contemporary and fresh. It served as a perfect introduction to the three artists of the Boston Trio.

Pale Yellow begins with a wistful passage for the piano; the cello comes in on a soft, sustained tone. The violin joins, entwining its voice with the cello in close, intriguing harmonies. The music flows lovingly: the cello sinks to the deep range as the violin sings high and sweet. Our three players develop a warm resonance of sound and then the music turns turbulent before rising…soaring. There’s a sort of coda, with the violin again lingering on high. A lovely, gradual resolution leaves the audience in a spellbound state.

A complete volte face for the second movement: Fiery Red is aptly titled. It commences with violent energy, Ms. Muresanu slashing her bow across the strings. At the piano, Heng-Jin Park strikes up a dynamic dance, but suddenly things come to a halt. Then the strings begin to buzz as the piano gets a bit jazzy. This develops into a plodding piano figuration as violin and cello pluck away. An energy build-up sends the violin and cello high with a scratchy edge to their playing. From a piano heartbeat, the volume amps up and the music starts to sway heavily. Musical peaks and valleys eventually surge forward to the ending.

Great playing from all three musicians, and the audience really seemed to be soaking it all in. Now I need to hear more of Higdon’s music: it’s refreshing to find a contemporary composer who in unafraid of melody and sentiment on the one hand, and who can then can turn bristling and quirky moments later.

After the briefest of pauses, the trio returned for the Debussy.

Debussy/arr. Beamish: La Mer

I. De l’aube à midi sur la mer

II. Jeux de vagues

III. Dialogue du vent et de la mer

The idea of hearing Debussy’s La Mer arranged for piano trio was a key factor in my decision to attend this concert. Sally Beamish, London-born violist and composer, arranged the Debussy masterwork in 2013 for the Trio Apaches, a British ensemble. I can only marvel at what Ms. Beamish accomplished, and marvel further at the Boston Trio’s splendid playing of the piece.

There’s no sense of miniaturization or of anything being ‘left out” in Ms. Beamish’s adaptation: the sound our trio produced tonight had a quite amazing orchestral quality, and Debussy’s reputation as a colorist didn’t suffer at all as they played with such depth both of tone and of feeling.

Ms. Beamish hands much of the responsibility for the success of her setting to the pianist, and Heng-Jin Park seized on the opportunity, playing beautifully and conjuring the mood shifts of each of the three movements.

The pianist commences De l’aube à midi sur la mer quiet and low, and the tremelo strings join in, developing a sense of mystery. Dense textures evolve, with gently rocking waves evoked by the strings; later, piano and cello pulsate with a violin overlay. Taking on a symphonic quality, the three players bring out delicious colours. The violin shimmers, the cello sings deep, the piano is luminous: sustained, heartfelt, passionate playing from all.

Rippling sensations from the keyboard open Jeux de vagues, with the strings in agitation. Heng-Jin Park gracefully executes the melismas that Debussy originally assigned to the harp – so atmospheric – and Ms. Muresanu’s trills are a further attraction. The music fades into a hazy mist.

Low grumbling from Heng-Jin Park’s Steinway and a restless passage from Mr. Ellsworth’s cello set Dialogue du vent et de la mer on its way. The restless yearning of a downward-bending 2 note/4 note motif that recurs in this movement is a signature element of La Mer, and Ms. Beamish’s arrangement employs it intriguingly. The depth of sound the three musicians achieve is most gratifying, and contrasts magically with the calm stillness of the piano repeating the main motif. This theme is taken up by all three, with a build-up of ecstatic tension.

Experiencing the Debussy in this intimate setting is something I’ll always remember; roses for Ms. Beamish to hail her accomplishment, and gratitude to the Boston Trio for bringing the work to us, and playing it so very well.

Following the interval, Dvořák provided an ideal conclusion to the evening.

Dvořák: Piano Trio in F Minor, Op. 65

I. Allegro, ma non troppo

II. Allegretto grazioso

III. Poco Adagio

IV. Finale. Allegro con brio

With the new music and the Debussy arrangement behind us, I simply let the familiar Dvorák play on, genuinely savoring the artistry of the three musicians and vastly enjoying their performance. My companion of the evening, choreographer Claudia Schreier, spoke afterwards of experiencing a deep connection both to this music and the Boston Trio’s performance of it.

A full-house standing ovation followed the Dvorák; the musicians came out for a couple of bows, and, as it became evident the crowd wanted to hear more music, the trio graciously gave us the Presto from Haydn’s C-major trio. This music is sparkling, with a somewhat ironic quality, and with a darkish interlude. It showed off the three players superbly and brought the evening to a merry end.

~ Oberon

September 28, 2017
New Chamber Ballet: From Bach to Beat

Above: Elizabeth Brown of New Chamber Ballet

Friday September 22nd, 2017 – Kicking off their 2017-2018 season, Miro Magloire’s New Chamber Ballet offered an evening of five ballets choreographed by Miro to music by J S Bach, W A Mozart, Luciano Berio, Beat Furrer, and the choreographer himself. Pianist Melody Fader and violinist Doori Na performed these stylistically varied scores to perfection: their playing illuminated the evening in a very special way. Miro’s five ballerinas – Sarah Atkins, Elizabeth Brown, Kristine Butler, Traci Finch, and Amber Neff – rose to every challenge the choreographer handed them, from brisk allegro combinations to extremes of partnering.

Miro has recently altered the seating configuration for his City Center Studio presentations: the audience now sit on all four borders of the performing space, with the piano in a permanent place at the far end of the hall. This worked exceptionally well. I chose a seat right next to the musicians which proved wonderfully congenial.

The revival of Lace provided a stunning showcase for violinist Doori Na: his playing of Luciano Berio’s Sequenza VIII was simply spine-tinglingly sensational. To revel in the exceptional clarity of Doori’s playing – the music’s fleet edginess, intensity, and wide dynamic range all captured to perfection – made for a perfect start to the evening. The choreography creates a sense of ritual as the three ballerinas – Sarah Atkins, Elizabeth Brown, and Traci Finch – seem to personify priestesses in the service of some ancient, long-forgotten goddess. Each dancer has solo passages while the other two sit or kneel, striking poses of reverence or ecstasy. The contrast between agitation and reverence creates an engrossing atmosphere.

Pianist Melody Fader brought a hypnotic, quiet radiance to the music of Beat Furrer for Voicelessness, a duet inspired by a poem of Sylvia Plath’s and danced by Kristine Butler and Amber Neff. Melody’s control of the music’s piano/pianissimo gradations was so atmospheric. The two dancers moved with intense assurance thru some very demanding partnering sequences; in this and other recent ballets, Miro has created a new mode of same-sex partnering.

The revival of 104 Fahrenheit, to Magloire’s own score, made me stop to think: have I seen any other ballets choreographed by their composer before? I can’t think of any. The ballet begins languidly, with Melody Fader again setting the mood with her refined playing. Traci Finch has the first solo passage: a danced agitato with cunning pauses. Kristine Butler’s slower solo reflects the sense of stillness in the music. Skittering motifs from the piano signal Elizabeth Brown’s space-filling solo, a vividly-danced montage of athleticism and repose in which the dancer’s hands create their own visual poetry. Throughout, Melody Fader’s inspired playing gave wing to the exceptional dancing.

The world premiere of a new duet to music from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier has a simple working title for now: Bach. Commissioned by longtime friends of New Chamber Ballet, Leslie and Richard Curtis, the duet is lovely as it stands; but Miro already has plans to enlarge on it.

Wearing Sarah Thea’s frothy pastel frocks, Amber Neff and Kristine Butler drew inspiration from Melody Fader’s spot-on playing of the Bach prelude and fugue #14 in F-sharp minor. The two dancers move from joyous bounciness thru some stretchy give-and-take partnering, and lovely, ecstatic back-bends. It’ll be interesting to see how Miro develops this piece, and whether additional dancers might be included.

Amity is set to Mozart’s violin sonata in C Major K.296, and what a wonderful performance of that piece we heard this evening from Melody Fader and Doori Na. Sitting so close to these music-makers, I could really feel their resonance – Doori’s lower register had a nice contralto depth – while Melody’s choice of tempos seemed perfect.

Above: Amity dress rehearsal image by Nir Arieli.

Wearing Sarah Thea’s gossamer-gold costumes, dancers Sarah Atkins, Kristine Butler, Traci Finch, and Amber Neff affirmed the sense of joy in dancing to Mozart’s music with airy grace. From time to time, Miro has them fall to the floor: an unexpected move that at first seemed accidental. These little touches occur frequently throughout Miro’s choreography, and they keep things fresh.

September 22, 2017