Category: Ballet

Joyous Mendelssohn @ Chamber Music Society
In the days leading up to this evening’s concert at Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, it was announced that violinist Paul Huang was among the recipients of the 2017 Lincoln Center Awards.

Tuesday February 21st, 2017 – In the midst of their season celebrating Mendelssohn, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center offer two programs contrasting the joyous and the sorrowful. Today we reveled in the positive, sunny side of chamber music; on Sunday, February 26th, melancholy will prevail.

The Variations in E-flat major, Op. 44, by Ludwig van Beethoven, is a series of fourteen variations on a theme written for piano, violin and cello. The theme is set forth, plain as day: the musicians play a series of arpeggios at a moderate pace. From thence, the variations proceed in a variety of rhythms, instrumentation, harmony, and embellishment. Orion Weiss (piano), Sean Lee (violin), and Paul Watkins (cello) played deftly, and I greatly enjoyed observing their musical camaraderie and silent communication with one another.

The evening’s two pianists, Huw Watkins and Orion Weiss, gave us Mendelssohn’s Andante and Allegro brillant for Piano, Four Hands, Op. 92. And “brillant” aptly describes their performance, for they followed up the melodious Andante with a striking virtuoso display in the Allegro. Mr. Watkins took the lower octaves, and Mr. Weiss the upper, but they sometimes invaded each others domain. When things got fast and furious, each player had to lean out of the way to give the other access to the full keyboard in alternating solos. Thus their performance was as appealing to watch as to hear.

Above: British brothers Huw and Paul Watkins

Cellist Paul Watkins was joined by his pianist/brother Huw Watkins in a magnificent rendering of Mendelssohn’s Sonata in D-major for Cello and Piano, Op. 58. Their performance was truly engrossing, with the cellist’s soul-reaching depth of tone and the pianist’s perfect blend of elegance and vitality combining for a spell-binding musical experience.

In the D-major Sonata, Mendelssohn exults in the outer movements, giving the pianist a barrage of arpeggios with which to delight us while the cellist sings felicitous melodic passages.The sonata gets off to a fast start, with a lively pulse; both players bring mellifluous tone which they are able to maintain even in the most rapid phrases. Paul’s cello buzzes while Huw plays melody for a spell; then they seem to reverse roles. The word ‘amazing’ is so over-used these days, but that’s what I wrote as this fabulous Allegro assai vivace carried us along. The playing hones down to great subtlety before re-bounding and sweeping onward.

The second movement starts with a sprightly piano tune, with the plucking cello commenting, and then humming low. A lovely cello theme leads onto a more boisterous, slightly gritty passage before recurring. This little scherzo ends with a gentle whisper.

Rhapsodic phrases from the piano herald the Adagio, the heart of the matter. A poignant melody wells up from the cello, Paul Watkins’ glowing tone like a transfusion for the soul. Huw rhapsodizes again, then takes up his own melody over long-sustained tones from the cello. This Adagio seemed all too brief when played so nobly as it was this evening; the brothers then took only the briefest pause before attacking the opening of the final movement.

In this Molto allegro e vivace, both players flourished in the coloratura passages and in the melodic exchanges that ensue. After a lull, a slithery scale motif from the cello made me think of the moment in Strauss’s ELEKTRA before the murder of Klytemnestra – a far-fetched association to be sure, but there it is. The music ebbs and flows on to the finish, the Watkins brothers rightly hailed with spirited applause for their remarkable performance.

Mr. Weiss (above, in a Jacob Blickenstaff portrait) returned to the Steinway for Chopin’s Ballade in A-flat major for Piano, Op. 47, a piece long-familiar to me thru its appearance in the Jerome Robbins ballet The Concert. The pianist savoured the music, displaying a vast dynamic spectrum (blissful high pianissimi) and a keen appreciation for the shifting rhythmic patterns. When the music gets grand, Mr. Weiss’s playing is absolutely regal.

The Mendelssohn Quintet No. 2 in B-flat major for Two Violins, Two Violas, and Cello, Op. 87, drew together a most impressive string ensemble: Paul Huang and Sean Lee (violins), Paul Neubauer and Matthew Lipman (violas), and Paul Watkins (cello): their performance might be sub-titled ‘The Glory of Mendelssohn‘.

The players plunged immediately into the music with a vibrant agitato rhythm, from which Paul Huang’s violin soars up to the heavens. Throughout the performance, Mr. Huang’s tone shone with an achingly beautiful polish, his profusion of technique and his uncanny ability to mix refinement and passion in perfect measure defined him an artist of exceptional gifts.

This ensemble of wonderful musicians created a blend of particular cordiality, and each player took up their solo opportunities with stylish élan. Paul Neubauer’s playing was – as ever – aglow with poetic nuance; Matthew Lipman seconded him handsomely, displaying his trademark love of and commitment to the music, and Sean Lee’s suave phrasing is ever-pleasing to the ear. I found myself wishing that Mendelssohn had given the cello a bit more prominence, simply because I could not get enough of Paul Watkins’s playing.

The quintet’s Adagio e lento found all the musicians at their most expressive, a reassurance in uncertain times; we so desperately need great music at this point in our lives when the future seems poised on the edge of a knife. With the dedication of such artists as we heard today, the light of hope continues to shine as a testament against the powers of darkness.
- Beethoven Variations in E-flat major for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 44 (1804)
- Mendelssohn Andante and Allegro brillant for Piano, Four Hands, Op. 92 (1841)
- Mendelssohn Sonata in D major for Cello and Piano, Op. 58 (1843)
- Chopin Ballade in A-flat major for Piano, Op. 47 (1841)
- Mendelssohn Quintet No. 2 in B-flat major for Two Violins, Two Violas, and Cello, Op. 87 (1845)
February 21, 2017
Graham/Duato/Cherkaoui @ The Joyce

Above: Xin Ying and Abdiel Jacobsen in Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui’s Mosaic; photo by Brigid Pierce

Friday February 17th, 2017 – A richly rewarding evening of dance from The Martha Graham Dance Company, performing works by Graham, Nacho Duato, and Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui at The Joyce. A packed house seemed spellbound by the ballets, and went wild for the Graham dancers – and rightfully so: their power, commitment, bravery, and beauty make them seem super-human.

As a prelude to the evening, Peter Sparling’s gorgeous film SacredProfane was shown as audience members found their seats and settled in. You can sample Sparling’s imaginative work here.

Above: Pei-Ju Chien-Pott and the ensemble in Primitive Mysteries; photo by Brigid Pierce

Primitive Mysteries is the Graham work I have most been wanting to see ever since I first read about it a few years ago, shortly after I had attended the rehearsal of Chronicle with photographer Brian Krontz which turned my curious interest in Graham into something of an obsession.

Performed to music by Louis Horst for flute and piano, Primitive Mysteries is divided into three sections: “Hymn to the Virgin,” “Crucifixus,” and “Hosannah.” The work premiered on February 2, 1931, with Martha Graham in the central role. This ritualistic ballet draws inspiration from the veneration of the Virgin Mary that permeates Catholicism, but also from the rites of the Native Americans whose belief systems were obliterated by the arrival of undocumented immigrants on these hitherto unsullied shores.

Above: PeiJu Chien-Pott and the ensemble in Primitive Mysteries; photo by Brigid Pierce

A corps of twelve blue-clad women frame the iconic Virgin, portrayed this evening by that fascinating Graham paragon, PeiJu Chien-Pott. Clad in pristine white, her hair flowing like black silk, Ms. Chien-Pott presides over her acolytes with benign yet unquestionable authority.

The dancers enter in silence, with slow, unified strides: they will exit and re-enter in the same mode for each section of the ballet. Trademark Graham moves are to be seen, with high-stepping, contracted motifs, and regimented, stylized gestures unifying the sisterhood. In the second movement, Ms. Chien-Pott strikes a pose of crucifixion, arms outstretched, while the women circle her at increasing speed.

Above: PeiJu Chien-Pott and Leslie Andrea Williams (center) in a Brigid Pierce photo

In the concluding “Hosannah”, Ms. Chien-Pott and Leslie Andrea Williams – a charismatic, ascending Graham dancer – strike ecstatic plastique poses, ending with Ms. Williams in a slow, backward collapse into Ms. Chein-Pott’s arms: a Pietà-like vision. Transfigured, the women slowly leave the stage as darkness falls.

Primitive Mysteries evoked the first of the evening’s ovations, the dancers receiving vociferous screams of delight from the crowd as they took their bows.

Above: Lloyd Mayor at the top of the heap in Rust; a Brigid Pierce photo

After a brief pause, the curtain rose on Nacho Duato’s Rust, a powerful all-male work that served as an ideal counterpoise to the feminine spirit of the preceding Graham work. Lorenzo Pagano emerges from the shadows under the relentless beam of an interrogation spotlight; upstage, the hapless Ari Mayzick is kicked, tortured, and left for dead. Ben Schultz, Lloyd Mayor, and Abdiel Jacobsen complete the quintet as Mr. Duato puts them thru demanding physical passages and down-trodden floor work.

Above: from Rust; photo by Brigid Pierce

Rust is danced to Arvo Pärt’s deep-chanting “De Profundis” (composed in 1980); voices emerge from the depths of despair, rising up to create an atmosphere of devotional reverence. The spirituality of the music and the brutality of the action remind us of the violence that permeates the history of the great religions. Rust ends with the men kneeling, hooded and with their hands tied behind their backs: all are prisoners, one way or another.

Above: Ben Schultz in Rust; photo by Brigid Pierce

We had had a preview of Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui’s Mosiac a few weeks ago at the Graham studios. Tonight this exotic, sensual but also shadowy ballet looked mysterious in Nick Hung’s lighting. Felix Bunton’s mid-Eastern score, spicy and alluring, is embellished by spoken commentary from the news networks.

The dancers, costumed in soft, warm-hued garments, are seen in a cluster at curtain-rise. In a solo passage, Anne Souder’s personal beauty and physical flexibility made an alluring impression. Vocals that evoke deserts, minarets, and marketplaces set the dancers swirling; smoke drifts on the air as Lorenzo Pagano steps forward for a solo.

Above: Lorenzo Pagano in Mosaic; Brigid Pierce’s image from a studio showing

Above: Xin Ying in Mosaic; photo by Brigid Pierce

A threatening atmosphere arises; the incomprehensible talk all sounds like bad news. Stylized dancing under aqua lights brings forth the Company’s incredible Xin Ying: her feel for the sway of the music is intrinsic. A big beat and strobe lights give off contrasting impressions: are we in a nightclub or a prison yard? The dancers begin to shed their outer layers of clothing, and their vulnerability lends a new aspect to the story.

A duet for Anne Souder and Lloyd Mayor (above, photo by Brigid Pierce) could be provocative, or manipulative. In the end, the dancers return to the clustered formation, but now they are trembling uncontrollably.

Above: Xin Ying and Abdiel Jacobsen in Mosaic; a Brigid Pierce photo

To close the evening Diversion of Angels, Martha Graham’s glowing commentary on the aspects of love, was marvelously danced. To Norman Dello Joio’s lyrical, romance-tinged score, we meet three women who embody the ages of love: Charlotte Landreau (Young Love, in yellow), Xin Ying (Passionate Love, in red), and Konstantina Xintara (Deep and Lasting Love, in white); each has her beloved: Lloyd Mayor, Lorenzo Pagano, and Ben Schultz respectively. An ensemble of four women (So Young An, Marzia Memoli, Anne Souder, and Leslie Andrea Williams) and an additional man (Jacob Larsen – to complete the male quartet) fill out the stage picture with animated choreography, often heralding or echoing the principals.

Ms. Xintara (above) and Mr. Schultz exude calm: her elongated arabesques show romantic centeredness and confidence while his muscular physique provides a pillar of strength for his beloved. A particular gesture of Ben’s reminded me ever so much of Nijinsky’s Faune. At times, this White Couple simply stand together, assured of their mutual affection as they watch the younger generations leap and swirl.

Xin Ying (above), superbly beautiful in her red frock, repeatedly displays her own arabesque-motif, sustaining the pose with awesome control. Mr. Pagano is a more fleeting lover here, but when he and his love do meet up, their passion sizzles.

Charlotte Landreau (above) is a dancer to cherish. With her strong technique and engaging presence, Charlotte seems destined for many Graham roles. As the Woman in Yellow tonight, her breezy jetés – stretched long and wonderfully elevated – delighted my choreographer/friend Claudia Schreier and me. As Charlotte’s ardent young lover, Lloyd Mayor hovered over his sweetheart, looking at once smitten and protective.

Jacob Larsen, handsome of face and form, kept pace with the Company’s dynamic men; he looks likely to become a valuable asset in the Graham rep.

An excellent evening on every count, and the cheers and applause that greeted the generous Graham dancers as they took their bows were eminently deserved.

Production photos in this article are by Brigid Pierce, sent to me at just the right moment by the Graham Company’s press agent, Janet Stapleton.

February 17, 2017
Barnatan|Honeck @ The NY Philharmonic

Thursday February 16th, 2017 – Beethoven’s 1st piano concerto, with soloist Inon Barnatan (above), and Mahler’s 1st symphony were paired in tonight’s New York Philharmonic performance under the baton of Manfred Honeck.

Beethoven’s 1st piano concerto was used by choreographer Helgi Tomasson in 2000 for his gorgeous ballet PRISM, originally danced by Maria (‘Legs’) Kowroski and Charles Askegard at New York City Ballet: that’s how I fell in love with this particular concerto. Throughout the third movement tonight, I was recalling Benjamin Millepied’s virtuoso performance of Tomasson’s demanding choreography.

Israeli pianist Inon Barnatan, currently the first Artist-in-Association of the New York Philharmonic, has thrilled me in the past with his playing both with the Philharmonic and in frequent appearances with Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. And I don’t use the word ‘thrilled’ lightly.

Mr. Barnatan’s playing of the Beethoven this evening was remarkable as much for its subtlety as for its brio. Maintaining a sense of elegance even in the most whirlwind passages, the pianist had ideal support from Maestro Honeck and the artists of the Philharmonic. The cascading fiorature which sound soon after the soloist’s entrance were crystal-clear; with Mr. Barnatan relishing some delicious nuances of phrase along the way, we reached the elaborate cadenza where the pianist demonstrated peerless dexterity, suffusing his technique with a sense of magic.

From the pianissimo opening of the Largo, Mr. Barnatan’s control and expressiveness created a lovely sense of reverie. He found an ideal colleague in Pascual Martinez Forteza, whose serenely singing clarinet sustained the atmosphere ideally. Maestro Honeck and the orchestra framed the soloist with playing of refined tenderness; the Largo left us with a warm after-glow.

The concluding Rondo: Allegro is one of the most purely enjoyable finales in all the piano concerto literature. Good humor abounds, the music is expansive, and a jaunty – almost jazzy – minor key foray adds a dash of the unexpected. Mr. Barnatan was at full-sail here, carrying the audience along on an exuberant ride and winning himself a tumult of applause and cheers. He favored us with a brisk and immaculately-played Beethoven encore, and had to bow yet again before the audience would let him go.

Inon Barnatan has, in the past two or three years, become a ‘red-letter’ artist for me – meaning that his appearances here in New York City will always be key dates in my concert-planning. His Gaspard de la Nuit at CMS last season was a true revelation, and tonight’s Beethoven served to re-affirm him as a major force among today’s music-makers.

Maestro Honeck (above) returned to the podium following the interval for the Mahler 1st. In the course of the symphony’s 50-minute span, the Maestro showed himself to be a marvelous Mahler conductor. The huge orchestra played splendidly for him, and the evening ended with yet another resounding ovation.

From the ultra-soft opening moments of the first symphony, which Mahler described as “…sounds of nature, not music!”, this evening’s performance drew us in. The offstage trumpet calls seem to issue from a fairy-tale castle deep in a mysterious forest. The Philharmonic’s wind soloists – Robert Langevin, Philip Myers, and Liang Wang among them – seized upon prominent moments: Mr. Wang in fact was a key element in our pure enjoyment of the entire symphony. The pace picks up, and a melody from the composer’s Wayfarer songs shines forth; the music gets quite grand, the horns opulent, the trumpets ringing out, and so on to a triumphant climax.

The symphony’s second movement, a folkish dance, also finds the horns and trumpets adding to the exuberance. After a false ending, a brief horn transition sends us into a waltzy phase, with winds and strings lilting us along. Then the movement’s initial dance theme returns, accelerates, and rushes to a joyful finish.

The solemn timpani signals the ‘funeral music’ of the third movement; a doleful round on the tune of “Frère Jacques” ensues, but perhaps this is tongue-in-cheek Mahler. Mr. Wang’s oboe again lures the ear, and a Wayfarer song is heard before a return to the movement’s gloomy opening atmosphere. The unusual intrusion of a brief gypsy-dance motif melts away, and the funeral cortege slowly vanishes into the mist.

Maestro Honeck took only the briefest of pauses before signaling the dramatic start of the finale. A march, a lyrical theme, a romance that grows passionate: Mahler sends everything our way. After several shifts of mood, it begins to feel like the composer is not quite sure how he wants his symphony to end. Various motifs are heard again, and at last Mahler finds his finish with a celebratory hymn, the horn players rising to blaze forth resoundingly.

February 16, 2017
Bronfman|Bychkov ~ Tchaikovsky @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

Friday January 27th, 2017 – With Semyon Bychkov on the podium and Yefim Bronfman at the Steinway, we were assured of an exciting evening at The New York Philharmonic. Music by Glinka and Tchaikovsky was played in the grand style under Maestro Bychkov’s magical baton, and Mr. Bronfman brought down the house with his splendid account of Tchaikovsky’s 2nd piano concerto. Throughout this à la Russe program, visions of the splendours of the Tsarist courts filled the imagination.

The first half of the evening was given over to two scores which inspired George Balanchine to create two choreographic masterworks: Mikhail Glinka’s brief Valse-Fantaisie, and the Tchaikovsky concerto. The two ballets unfolded clearly in my mind as the music, so familiar to me from innumerable performances at New York City Ballet, filled Geffen Hall in all its romantic glory.

The infectious, lilting rhythm of the waltz propels the Glinka score; originally written for piano in 1839 and later orchestrated, it is rich in melody and intriguing shifts between major and minor passages, evoking the glamour, chivalry, and mystery of a glittering ball at the Winter Palace. Needless to say, it was sumptuously played under Maestro Bychkov’s masterful leadership.

Tchaikovsky’s 2nd piano concerto has been a favorite of mine for years, thanks to my great affection for the ballet Balanchine created to it. Written in 1879–1880, the concerto was dedicated to Nikolai Rubinstein; but Rubinstein was never destined to play it, as he died in March 1881. The premiere performance took place in New York City, in November of 1881 with Madeline Schiller as soloist and Theodore Thomas conducted The New York Philharmonic orchestra. The first Russian performance was in Moscow in May 1882, conducted by Anton Rubinstein with Tchaikovsky’s pupil, Sergei Taneyev, at the piano.

Tonight, Yefim Bronfman’s power and virtuosity enthralled his listeners, who erupted in enthusiastic applause after the concerto’s first movement. The eminent pianist could produce thunderous sounds one moment and soft, murmuring phrases the next; this full dynamic spectrum was explored in the monster cadenza, to mesmerizing effect. A word of mention here of some lovely phrases from flautist Robert Langevin and clarinetist Pascual Martinez Fortenza early in the concerto; in fact, all of the wind soloists were very much on their game tonight.

In the Andante, a sense of gentle tenderness filled Bronfman’s playing, and his rapport with concertmaster Frank Huang and cellist Carter Brey in the extended passages where they play off one another made me crave an evening of chamber music with these three masters. The concerto sailed on thru the concluding Allegro con fuoco, with its gypsy-dance theme brilliantly set forth by both pianist and orchestra. Maestro Bychkov, who had set all the big, sweeping themes sailing forth grandly into the hall throughout, was particularly delightful in this lively finale. At the end, the audience erupted in a gale of applause and cheers, Mr. Bronfman cordially bringing Mssrs. Huang and Brey forward to share in the ovation.

Throughout this awe-inspiring performance, the choreography of Balanchine danced in my head, and visions of Viktoria Tereshkina, Teresa Reichlen, Faye Arthurs, and Jonathan Stafford sprang up, the music inspiring the memory of their sublime dancing in Mr. B’s remarkable setting of this concerto.

After the interval, Maestro Bychkov (above) led an epic performance of Tchaikovsky’s 5th symphony. From the burnished beauty of the horn solo near the start, thru the palpable fervor of the Andante cantabile (with its evocation of the SLEEPING BEAUTY Vision Scene), and on thru the Valse, which moves from sway to elegant ebullience, Maestro Bychckov and the artists of the Philharmonic gloried in one Tchaikovskyian treasure after another.

The symphony’s finale, right from it’s soulful ‘Russian’ opening theme, seemed to sum up all that had gone before: vivid dancing rhythms from Russian folk music, a march-like tread, a brief interlude. Then the brass call forth, and a tremendous timpani roll heralds a mighty processional. One final pause before a stately repeat of the main theme and a swift, four-chord finish. The audience rightly responded to the Maestro and the musicians with a full-scale standing ovation.

January 27, 2017
Back at the Ballet

Wednesday January 25th, 2017 – I haven’t been to a New York City Ballet performance since Jennie Somogyi’s farewell in 2015, but I keep running into the dancers and am constantly reminded of how much I miss watching them dance. A few weeks ago, on a whim, I ordered a ticket for tonight’s all-Balanchine program, before casting was announced. A domestic surprise – a nice one – called me home early: I missed FOUR TEMPERAMENTS tonight. But I greatly enjoyed seeing ALLEGRO BRILLANTE and the Balanchine SWAN LAKE again.

On entering the theater lobby, I was very happy to see that The Lyre has been restored to a place of honor. Once seated, I watched the musicians warming up while the theater filled slowly. I was not feeling the old sense of anticipation, and I was not sure if my idea of re-connecting with NYCB was making sense: perhaps it’s a chapter best left closed?

But then the house lights went down; pianist Susan Walters and conductor Andrew Litton entered the pit for ALLEGRO BRILLANTE and suddenly it felt right to be there. This was my first experience of having Andrew Litton on the podium; the orchestra – apart from a random note or two going astray in SWAN LAKE – played the big Tchaikovsky themes sumptuously. Ms. Walters did a beautiful job with ALLEGRO BRILLANTE; and later in the evening, concertmaster Arturo Delmoni played a ravishing White Swan solo.

Tiler Peck was originally listed for ALLEGRO BRILLANTE, but a pre-curtain announcement informed us that Megan Fairchild would be dancing instead. I was pleased with this announcement, as I’d become quite an admirer of Ms. Fairchild over time; I was curious to see how the Fairchild/Veyette partnership would work under the circumstances, but they are both professionals and carried it off in fine style. Megan’s dancing had a lovely lyrical feeling, and I began to realize how very much I have missed her dancing over the past several months.

When the swans made their entry in the Balanchine SWAN LAKE, it really sank in just how long I’d been away: hardly a familiar ballerina in sight. There was a time when I knew every single person in the Company and could scan a large group of corps dancers with my opera glasses and see one friendly face after another. Tonight the girls seemed beautifully anonymous; I wonder who among them might captivate me as Rebecca Krohn and Ashley Laracey had once done, right from their first performances with the Company?

The soloists, Megan LeCrone and Lauren King, both danced very well. Teresa Reichlen and Russell Janzen created a true sense of poetry and ill-fated romance in their partnership. Russell looks the epitome of a romantic hero: his sense of wonder at finding this fragile creature by the lake, and his desire to protect and cherish her were beautifully expressed. Tess was an elegant Swan Queen, terrified at first and only slowly surrendering to the calming effects of Russell’s care. The two long-limbed dancers make a striking couple, and their ardent tenderness mirrored the music ideally. They were rapturously applauded, and called out for an extra bow.

In ALLEGRO BRILLANTE, I was particularly impressed by the dancing of the supporting ensemble of eight dancers; Balanchine gives them plenty to do, and they all looked superb. These are dancers I followed closely back in my days as an NYCB regular, and it was really good to see them all again, looking so attractive and dancing with such assurance and grace: Megan Johnson, Meagan Mann, Gretchen Smith, Lydia Wellington, Devin Alberda, Daniel Applebaum, Cameron Dieck, and Aaron Sanz. Watching them, I was keenly aware of what I’ve been missing.

January 26, 2017
Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui @ Martha Graham Dance Co

Above: members of The Martha Graham Dance Company at a studio showing of MOSAIC, a new work being created for the Company by choreographer Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui; photo by Brigid Pierce. MOSAIC will premiere during the upcoming Graham season at The Joyce, which opens on February 14th. Details and tickets here.

On January 11th, 2017, friends of Graham gathered at the Company’s homespace at Westbeth on Bethune Street for a first look at the new Cherkaoui piece. This is my fourth time experiencing this choreographer’s work: in 2009, Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet premiered Larbi’s ORBO NOVO; in 2010, his SUTRA was performed as part of the White Lights Festival; and this past Summer, HARBOR ME was performed at the Joyce by LA Dance Project.

MOSAIC is danced to a score by Felix Buxton; the choreography has a sultry, swaying, Middle Eastern feel. Without giving away more than that, I will only say the Graham dancers look sexy as ever in this provocative style. It was really great seeing Jason Kittelberger, an iconic dancer with the late, lamented Cedar Lake Company; Jason is Larbi’s choreographic assistant for MOSAIC and he introduced the work this evening.

Here are a some images from the showing of MOSAIC; the photographer is Brigid Pierce:

Anne Souder

Leslie Andrea Williams, Lorenzo Pagano, Anne Souder, Lloyd Mayor

Lorenzo Pagano

Anne Souder, Lloyd Mayor

Anne Souder, Lloyd Mayor

In addition to MOSAIC, the repertoire for the upcoming Graham season at The Joyce features a premiere by Annie-B Parsons, recent works by Nacho Duato and Pontus Lidberg, a revival of Martha Graham’s PRIMITIVE MYSTERIES, as well as Graham classics MAPLE LEAF RAG, DARK MEADOW SUITE, DIVERSION OF ANGELS, and CLYTEMNESTRA Act II.

I’m hoping to get to a studio rehearsal before the season at The Joyce begins.

January 23, 2017
SALOME @ The Met

“You know, there are three kinds of Salomes: those who can sing it, those who can dance it, and those who should be shot!” ~ Leonie Rysanek

Wednesday December 28th, 2016 – My friend Dmitry and I had really been looking forward to seeing SALOME at The Met this season; it’s among our favorite scores. I bought tickets in advance for two performances, since I wanted to hear both Željko Lučić and Greer Grimsley as Jochanaan.

Then came the news that the scheduled Salome, Catherine Naglestad, had withdrawn from the title-role, and was to be replaced by Patricia Racette. Racette used to be a particular favorite of mine, going back to her performances as Emmeline in Tobias Picker’s opera at NYCO. She was a marvelous Met Mimi, Violetta, and Ellen Orford, and I very much enjoyed her Elisabetta in DON CARLO. But as the seasons have passed, the wear-and-tear has really begun to show in Racette’s singing. Still, as recently as 2013, she gave a striking performance in Dallapiccola’s IL PRIGIONIERO with The New York Philharmonic.

Since then, anything I have heard from her has sounded sadly worn and unpleasant. I suppose there’s something honorable about “the sword wearing out the sheath” in the service of art, but after a while the artistry and dedication no longer compensate for the sound being produced.

I don’t want to dwell on the negative, but much of Racette’s singing was really off-putting. In the lower-to-middle-range passages, she was often covered by the orchestra. The heavy usage the soprano has subjected her voice to really shows in this music: the vibrato has spread so that in the upper range there’s no core to a sustained note; the louder the note, the wider the fluctuation.

Salome is supposedly a teenager, but Strauss wrote the part in a way that only a mature and experienced soprano can cope with it. Thus the Dance of the Seven Veils must be handled with kid gloves; soprano and choreographer have to find ways for a woman of a certain age who is capable of singing the role to be reasonably credible in the dance-moves. For this famous scene, Racette chose an unflattering get-up: a sort of tuxedo affair with hot pants and a top hat. The choreography was duly carried out by the soprano and two men, but it was about as provocative as an after-dinner mint (to quote from the film CABARET). As the dance ended, Dmitry and I quietly left the theater.

To briefly note the evening’s positive elements: Greer Grimsley was a powerful Jochanaan – though the amplification of his voice from the cistern was unflattering – and Gerhard Siegel was pretty much perfect as Herod. Excellent singing and portrayals from Nancy Fabiola Herrera as Herodias (great high notes!) and Kang Wang, who was vocally clear and thrilling as Narraboth. I loved seeing John Hancock onstage again, and there was fine work from Carolyn Sproule, Kathryn Day, Nicholas Brownlee, Richard Bernstein (ever the impressive stage figure, as when he kept the prophet on a long leash), Mikhail Petrenko, and Paul Corona. Allan Glassman led a strong quintet of Jews who were well-differentiated as personalities and just as annoying as one imagines Strauss intended them to be.

The orchestra played superbly, and conductor Johannes Debus did well to highlight the myriad hues of the opera’s marvelous orchestration. Debus did not, however, always maintain an ideal union between pit and stage, sometimes drowning out the singers.

Neither Dmitry nor I could recall the fanciful fore-curtain of angels, but perhaps we’ve suppressed the memory of it. The audience seemed pretty much captivated by the whole performance, though the woman seated in the adjoining box giggled and commented aloud during the dance.

Over the years and through repeated hearing, I’ve found that my favorite passage of SALOME is Jochanaan’s admonition to Salome to seek Christ at the Sea of Galilee. Tonight, Mr. Grimsley and concertmaster David Chan rendered this moment so beautifully; I suppose it’s odd that an atheist should be moved by this affirmation of faith, but to be honest, I often find expressions of deep and simple belief to be truly touching.

Metropolitan Opera House December 28th, 2016

SALOME Richard Strauss Salome..................Patricia Racette Herod...................Gerhard Siegel Herodias................Nancy Fabiola Herrera Jochanaan...............Greer Grimsley Narraboth...............Kang Wang Page....................Carolyn Sproule Jew.....................Allan Glassman Jew.....................Mark Schowalter Jew.....................Noah Baetge Jew.....................Alex Richardson Jew.....................David Crawford Nazarene................Mikhail Petrenko Nazarene................Paul Corona Soldier.................Nicholas Brownlee Soldier.................Richard Bernstein Cappadocian.............John Hancock Slave...................Kathryn Day Executioner.............Reginald Braithwaite
Conductor...............Johannes Debus

December 28, 2016
Michael Todd Simpson in L’AMOUR DE LOIN

Saturday December 24th, 2016 matinee – This afternoon we had the unalloyed pleasure of experiencing baritone Michael Todd Simpson’s performance as Jaufré Rudel in Kaija Saariaho’s breathtakingly beautiful opera L’Amour de Loin at The Met. Mr. Simpson was replacing the scheduled Eric Owens in the role, and to say that he gave an impressive interpretation would be putting it mildly: in terms of both voice and physical presence, Mr. Simpson was simply ideal.

We settled in at our balcony box this afternoon, observing the many empty seats for this matinee; neither the Saariaho nor Strauss’s Salome – to be shown in the evening – is really holiday fare, but that’s what The Met programmed on this day before Christmas. The Amour production has its striking moments, but overall it was the musical experience that thrilled us.

My friend Dmitry and I had been looking forward to seeing the Saariaho opera ever since the plan for the opera’s Met premiere was whispered to me by my choreographer-friend Luca Veggetti. Luca is good friends with Ms. Saariaho, and they have collaborated here in New York: Luca staged the composer’s ballet MAA at The Miller Theatre in 2010, and in 2013 he invited me to a rehearsal of the same work when he was preparing it for a Paris production. Luca turned to Ms. Saariaho’s music for his 2012 all-female dancework From the Grammar of Dreams, created for The Martha Graham Dance Company. In 2014, a fascinating collaboration between Gotham Chamber Opera and The Martha Graham Dance Company resulted in a memorable presentation of Saariaho’s The Tempest Songbook at The Metropolitan Museum of Art: I saw an early rehearsal, and the stunning opening night performance. Ms. Saariaho was also featured in a composer’s evening at The Miller Theatre in February 2014.

L’Amour de Loin premiered at the Salzburg Festival in 2000. The Robert Lepage production – which The Met is presenting – is the tenth production of this striking work to date; that fact alone attests to the opera’s viability, which springs – in my opinion – both from the magical sound-world Kaija Saariaho has created and from the ineffable sadness and mystery of the story.

Jaufré Rudel was a 12th century troubadour from Blaye, near Bordeaux in south-west France. He fell in love – sight-unseen – with the Countess of Tripoli after hearing her praised by pilgrims returning from Antioch. He wrote poems about her and sang of her nobility and virtue. From this idealized love sprang Jaufré’s desire to meet her. He joined the Crusade and set sail for the Holy Land, but he fell gravely ill on the Mediterranean voyage and arrived at Tripoli only to die in the Countess’s arms. She had him buried in the temple of her city, and thereafter, undone by her grief, she became a nun.

Kaija Saariaho’s score, as with Debussy’s for Pelléas et Mélisande, creates a unique atmosphere with its timeless and treasurable tale of a love that is both exalted and doomed, rendered in music of intoxicating tenderness and – eventually – despair. In shimmering orchestral textures, the composer summons up visions of the sea which divides the lovers and upon which the mysterious Pilgrim sails in his fragile boat, carrying messages between Jaufré and his beloved Countess.

From the very first measures, this music drew me in and held me, as if in a dream from which one doesn’t want to awaken. Countless passages from the opera were so hauntingly expressive that I regretted not having booked more than one performance. The music darkened considerably in the second half of the evening: there’s a vivid sea-faring prelude to Act IV, some dance-like rhythms spring up; and Jaufré’s lamenting phrases that he may not live long enough to meet his beloved are deeply moving.

The Met orchestra played superbly under the baton of Susanna Mälkki: I loved watching her from my perch high above the pit, and she was given a warm reception when she appeared onstage at the end of the opera.

This afternoon was actually my second encounter with Michael Todd Simpson at The Met; in 2012 he caught my attention in the brief role of the Tsar’s herald in Khovanschchina. It is Mr. Simpson, as Jaufré Rudel, who opens the Saariaho opera. But even before he began to sing, the baritone established himself as a charismatic presence: tall, fair of complexion, with expressive eyes and handsome cheekbones, Mr. Simpson put me in mind of the Royal Ballet’s Edward Watson – and believe me, I can’t pay a higher compliment than that.

Yet all that would have been for nought had Mr. Simpson not had the vocal goods to back up his physical appeal. But …he does! This is a warm, clear, easily-produced voice – a voice wonderfully present in the big House. Mr. Simpson seemed utterly at home, both in the persona and in the music; one would have thought he’d sung this piece dozens of times since every word and note in his nuanced performance radiated assurance and grace. All afternoon, the Simpson voice was a veritable font of baritonal beauty, and while comparisons are not always meaningful, I can only say that listening to Mr. Simpson gave me the same deep pleasure I have often drawn from the singing of Sanford Sylvan and Thomas Hampson.

Deservedly hailed with bravos at his solo bow, Mr. Simpson proved so much more than a stand-in: he’s a distinctive artist, and one I hope to hear again – soon and often.

More sublime singing this afternoon came from mezzo-soprano Tamara Mumford (above, in a Dario Acosta portrait) in the role of The Pilgrim. Patiently plying her small boat across the stage, Tamara looked out at us with far-questing eyes. She’s clad in neutral garb, a messenger with a masculine aura; but there’s no question that the voice is anything but intrinsically female. And what a voice it is! As with every note I have heard from this superb singer since she first came onto the scene, Ms. Mumford’s house-filling and lustrous tone, evenness of range, and pliantly expressive phrasing combined to imbue her performance with a marvelous glow.

Above: Tamara Mumford as The Pilgrim

Above: Susanna Phillips as Clémence, Countess of Tripoli. In this role, Ms. Phillips had her finest Met success to date. A beautiful young woman, she well-captured the initial reserve and ultimate passion of the poet’s muse. Traces of stridency marked some of her uppermost notes, but overall the soprano coped impressively with the demands of the role, creating a lyrical atmosphere with her clear phrasing and sense of dynamics. And she looked so lovely, gazing out across the sea to her lover from afar.

Robert Lepage’s infatuation with machinery – which gave us the clunky, cumbersome $20 million RING Cycle set that languishes in storage somewhere – was evident in a huge metal see-saw apparatus that swung slowly around the stage thru much of the evening. The waves of the sea were evoked by row upon row of tiny LED lights which flickered in changing colours and patterns, eventually tiring the eye. The chorus are seated beneath the waves and pop up when they are called on to sing. As the afternoon progressed, I increasingly wished The Met had imported the imaginative ENO/Cirque de Soleil production rather than this earthbound contraption. Still, I was extremely grateful to experience the opera live in any setting.

Some people complained of the opera’s longueurs; I never felt this at all, but I must say that the end of the opera was something of a disappointment. After Jaufré’s death, one wants a silence and then an evaporating orchestral postlude. Instead, Clémence has a sort of mad scene that becomes too verismo in its intensity. She expresses the same feelings, over and over, while one is always hoping each utterance is her last. There’s even some screaming. For me, this shattered the mood of all that had gone before. How much more poetic it would have been to end with Jaufré’s tender phrase: “In this moment, I have all that I desire.”

Most people seem to believe that a love for someone you’ve never met is unrealistic, and that a mutual bond is unattainable. Speaking from personal experience, I strongly disagree.

December 24, 2016
Nikolaj Znaider|Iván Fischer|NY Phil

Friday November 25th, 2016 – Tonight, Nikolaj Znaider (above) played the Beethoven violin concerto with The New York Philharmonic under the baton of Iván Fischer; the second half of the program was given over to the Dvořák 8th symphony.

The first thing we noticed when entering the hall tonight was the configuration of the orchestra, most especially the welcome addition of risers for the wind players, and the basses (they were on the highest platform). This is something I have always wished to see at Philharmonic performances: up til this evening, it was nearly impossible to determine who was playing solo wind passages during a symphony. Now there’s a better opportunity to watch people like Robert Langevin, Liang Wang, and Anthony McGill: to savor them as individuals and not just as sounds emanating from behind 2 rows of string players and 3 of music stands. It’s unclear whether the risers are going to continue to be in regular use now or whether it’s just something Maestro Fischer asked for. But this set-up really enhanced my enjoyment of the evening, especially given Mr. Langevin’s prominence in the Dvořák: how wonderful to not only hear his magic flute but to actually watch the magician at work.

Nikolaj Znaider is one of those many musicians whose discs I used to hear being played when I worked at Tower Records; at that time, I was still very much immersed in opera and ballet, and I rarely focused on symphonic or chamber music. So now I am making up for lost time, and hearing Mr. Znaider perform live tonight for the first time was genuinely enjoyable.

The violinist is very tall, with courtly manners to the fore as he kissed the hands of violinists Sheryl Staples and Michelle Kim after his triumphant performance of the Beethoven.

The music begins with five soft beats on the kettledrum; this leads to a rather long opening ‘prelude’, commencing in the winds and flowing onward to the violins. Mr. Znaider’s entrance really pricked up my ears, for his timbre is quite striking. My first thought was that his sound had a trace of astringency, a piquant tartness that gives it a particular appeal. As the concerto progressed, his playing took on a silvery aspect. Clarity of articulation and a mastery of dynamics are among Znaider’s most appealing gifts, and – greatly needed in the Beethoven – the control and tonal sheen he displayed in the highest range is really impressive. He also showed off a deliciously shimmering trill.

High, plaintive themes are poignantly set forth, whilst there is a flowing naturalness in his scale passages. Using the Kreisler cadenzas, Mr. Znaider arrived at one of his most compelling moments: a series of trills on various pitches, honed down in the end to a whisper. I must mention here, too, the expressive playing from Kim Laskowski’s bassoon.

Displaying a full range of degrees of piano/pianissimo playing, made Mr. Znaider’s performance in the playing of the Larghetto was truly captivating. Again, roses for Ms. Laskowski – in fact, there was page after page of lovely playing from all the Philharmonic artists under Maestro Fischer’s gentle baton. As Mr. Znaider spun out a long melodic line over plucked strings, his superb control of pianissimo nuances was outstanding.

As the final Rondo: Allegro rolls forward, we are are treated to further adventures as Mr. Znaider continues to explore a vast dynamic range; conductor and ensemble are with him every step of the way, with the brilliant conclusion prompting an immediate and fervent response from the audience. The violinist seemed genuinely pleased with the warm reception, his hand-to-heart gesture sending the affection back to the cheering crowd whilst the musicians onstage applauded him vigorously. A subtly played Bach encore, offered up with captivating delicacy and grace, drew the audience even deeper into Znaider’s artistry.

Above: Iván Fischer, in a Marco Borggreve portrait

The Dvořák 8th symphony abounds in folkish themes and ‘nature’ sounds that summon up visions of the Czech countryside, and I truly enjoyed Maestro Fischer’s interpretation in every regard. Robert Langevin’s flute solo early on was a limpid delight, and soon oboist Liang Wang and clarinetist Anthony McGill were piping up with sweetly evocative birdcalls. Phil Myers’ signature “big horn” sound was at its most congenial tonight, and the cellos sounded warmly lyrical.

The symphony’s most familiar theme comes in the Adagio as flute and oboe entwine and then send the melody forward to tonight’s concertmaster Sheryl Staples who shapes the phrases with silken assurance. Things turn rousing; the proverbial “big theme” embraces us. Trumpets sound, and then things recede to a gracious clarinet duo which eventually fades away.

An amiable waltz looms up in the Allegro graziosa, and Liang Wang’s oboe leads off some brief wind passages that move from voice to voice. An expansive song emerges, then the waltz re-bounds. An unusual coda concludes the movement.

Trumpet fanfares introduce the symphony’s finale; a handsome cello tutti leads to a proud dance and Mr. Langevin’s flute replies to the cellos with a variation on their theme. The other wind soloists have their final say before a grand acceleration speeds the symphony to its end. The audience seemed really taken with the entire concert, and the applause was generous and sincere.

To me, it was a perfect evening; my friend Dmitry was less enthusiastic, having some issues with tempi in the Beethoven and transitions in the Dvořák. His familiarity with the symphonic and chamber repertoire vastly surpasses my own, for he was immersed in the Mahler symphonies and Beethoven quartets while the first half-century of my musical ‘career’ was almost exclusively devoted to opera. But for all that, tonight’s concert was an unalloyed pleasure for me and left me in a really good mood.

November 25, 2016
NY Philharmonic Ensembles: International Feast

Above: The New York Philharmonic’s principal oboist Liang Wang

Sunday November 20th, 2016 – Music by French, Russian, German, and English composers was on offer this afternoon as a stellar ensemble of players from The New York Philharmonic took the stage at Merkin Hall. The group included some of the orchestra’s principals; the playing was divine, and all four works on the program were new to me.

The matinee opened with the String Trio of Jean Françaix, composed in 1933. Françaix was a child prodigy, writing his first music at age 6 and being published at age 10. His String Trio exemplifies the Neo-classical style which was enjoying favor at the time he wrote it; it consists of four movements, two of which are played with the strings muted. The excellent players – Shanshan Yao (violin), Peter Kenote (viola), and Qiang Tu (cello) – were clearly having a good time with this music, and their enjoyment was transmitted to the audience, who seemed quite taken with the piece.

The opening Allegretto vivo is a witty conversation among the three players; it has a gentle sway and a touch of jazz. With the musical lines in a state of perpetual motion, there is a sense of delicate charm in play. The following Scherzo – un-muted – is a sprightly dance played with a breezy ‘je ne sais quoi‘ quality. Plucking motifs and changes of pace eventually lead to a congenial if quirky waltz. The mutes are on for the Andante, which commences with wistful harmonies. Ms. Yao leads off with a sweet/sad song, taken up by Qiang Tu’s savorable cello and then by Mr. Kenote’s warm-toned viola: so lovely to hear each voice in succession. In a return to C-major, with the mutes set aside again, the lively start of the finale has an effervescent feeling (Mr. Kenote, in his opening remarks, spoke of a cancan). Things slow down a bit, with the violin playing over a plucked accompaniment. The pace then reaches sizzling speed, subsiding to lethargy before re-bounding to briskness and an actual march before vanishing on a surprisingly soft pizzicato. Such a fun piece!

Living in Paris in 1924, Sergei Prokofiev accepted a commission to compose a ballet for a touring troupe; the director asked for a short work for five instruments with a simple plot revolving around life with the circus. Prokofiev produced a quintet for the players the director had on hand: oboe, clarinet, violin, viola, and double bass. The ballet’s title was Trapeze. Since assembling this particular complement of instruments isn’t always easy, the work is not often performed; hearing it today made me wonder what the choreography would have been like.

Drawing from the Philharmonic roster, the instrumentation was handily (and expertly) filled out by a lively group of players, led by Anna Rabinova (violin), with Vivek Kamath (viola), Blake Hinson (bass – he also introduced the work) and wind virtuosos Sherry Sylar (oboe) and Pascual Martinez Forteza (clarinet).

The music definitely has a ‘circus’ atmosphere. A feeling of urban bustle with a slightly Mid-Eastern tinge pervades the opening movement, with oboe and clarinet vying phrase for phrase; the viola and then the violin join the fun, and the bass induces a lumbering motif. The music stalls, and turns pensive before bursting into a fast, flashy dance with violin screeching at us. The striding bass returns us to the opening oboe theme.

In the second movement, the bass growls at us and there’s an off-kilter feeling. The clarinet moves from burbling sounds to straightforward song; discord resolves into a major chord. The third movement, with a steady pacing, finds the clarinet and oboe trading sound-bytes; a swirling turbulence ensues.

In the fourth movement, an Adagio, the oboe sounds a bit ominous; the clarinet trills, the violin shivers, the bass creeps about. A violin melody melds into a dense tutti, with the oboe prominent. The plucking bass introduces the light-hearted fifth movement, with ironic gestures from the clarinet and oboe. The strings pluck and slash before Mr. Forteza’s clarinet polishes things off in fine style.

The final Andantino is whimsically dirge-like; there are clarinet cascades and the oboe gets insistent; the tread of the bass signals a minuet reprise. Suddenly alarms sound, and the piece rumbles raucously to a sudden end.

Several pages of Beethoven’s Quintet in E-flat major (originally penned in 1793) had gone missing by the time Leopold Zellner took up the task of ‘resuscitating’ it in 1862. Zellner relied strictly on the material evidence he found in Beethoven’s drafts in preparing a performing edition.

This work utilizes another off-beat assemblage of instruments: three horns, oboe, and bassoon. The horns – Richard Deane, R Allen Spanjer, and Howard Wall – enter in turn; their music veers from jaunty to Autumnal mellowness. As the work progressed, it became evident that the oboe was taking the most prominent position in terms of melodic opportunity: Liang Wang, the Philharmonic’s principal oboist, demonstrated both his striking virtuosity and his coloristic phrasing throughout the piece. Kim Laskowski’s bassoon seemed mostly limited to echo effects and to joining the horns; I kept hoping for a paragraph from her, but only a few phrases peeked thru the full-bodied sound of the horns.

A horn chorale initiates the Adagio maestoso, with the oboe again very much to the fore – and so attractively played by Mr. Wang. The concluding Minuetto begins brightly and brings us some really rich horn blends. Mr. Wang’s playing was exceptional, and it was a real pleasure to watch and hear him play his extended role here this afternoon, after so often enjoying his solo moments in the big repertory at Geffen Hall.

The Philharmonic’s principal horn, Philip Myers, introduced the concluding work – Ralph Vaughan Williams’ D-major Quintet – with a genuinely amusing speech in which he lamented the relative scarcity of chamber works featuring the horn and spoke of how he seized on the opportunity to play the Vaughan Williams today…which he did, to perfection.

Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Quintet in D-major had been withdrawn from circulation by the composer. He instructed his first wife not to publish it, but his second wife went ahead and did so, and thus we have this unusual work to enjoy today, more than a century after its premiere.

A deluxe quintet of Philharmonic artists gathered to perform the piece: alongside the resplendent sound of Mr. Myers’ horn, principal Anthony McGill’s clarinet playing was simply dazzling; violinist Lisa Kim (violin) and cellist Eileen Moon (my artistic crush) seized on the string passages to fine effect, whilst John Novacek underscored the ensemble beautifully from the keyboard, and relished his solo moments with some very cordial playing.

The four-movement quintet opens with an Allegro moderato initiated by clarinet and piano. A rolling theme for the ensemble sets up a round-robin of voices: piano, violin, clarinet, a horn summons, and cello speak up in turn. Things turn big and emphatic, and Phil Myers’ lush playing here was really grand, with Mr. Novacek ideally supportive. Cello, violin, and clarinet have another say before a shimmering motif from Mr. Novacek and a sustained phrase from Mr. Myers bring the movement to a close.

The second movement takes the form of an intermezzo; it has the feel of a Viennese waltz. Ms. Moon’s cello blends with the piano; later, Myers and McGill play in unison as the music sails on, with the piano taking up the waltz while Ms. Kim plays elegantly, incorporating a brief cadenza.

The velvety sound of the Myers horn sets up the Andantino, with Mr. Novacek’s evocative playing and another lovely passage from Ms. Kim leading into a melodic outpouring from all the voices. Fanfare-like motifs sound forth, and then a rich blending of timbres to savor. The horn plays over a rolling cello figure, and the music turns quite grand. Clarinet and violin descend, and the horn and piano glow gorgeously in a nostalgic theme.

The final Allegro molto induces toe-tapping from note one. Big horn-playing reigns, the clarinet and violin lead a merry dance, and a McGill cadenza with a perky trill delights us before the quintet reaches its boisterous end.

The Repertory:

FRANÇAIX – String Trio
PROKOFIEV – Quintet in G minor for Oboe, Clarinet, Violin, Viola, and Double Bass
BEETHOVEN – Quintet in E-flat major for Oboe, Three Horns, and Bassoon
VAUGHAN WILLIAMS – Quintet in D major for Clarinet, Horn, Violin, Cello, and Piano

The Participating Artists:

Richard Deane, horn

Pascual Martínez Forteza, clarinet

Blake Hinson, bass

Vivek Kamath, viola

Peter Kenote, viola

Lisa Kim, violin

Kim Laskowski, bassoon

Anthony McGill, clarinet

Eileen Moon, cello

Philip Myers, horn

John Novacek, piano

Anna Rabinova, violin

R. Allen Spanjer, horn

Sherry Sylar, oboe

Qiang Tu, cello

Howard Wall, horn

Liang Wang, oboe

Shanshan Yao, violin

November 21, 2016