Category: Dance

Shanghai Ballet’s SWAN LAKE

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday January 18th, 2020 – Billed as the “Grand SWAN LAKE“, Shanghai Ballet’s production of the Tchaikovsky classic arrived at Lincoln Center for four performances, of which we saw he third. In this very traditional setting, the Derek Deane Petipa-based choreography offers no surprises, aside from the sheer number of swans to be seen: I guess that’s what makes it “grand”.

The production is mostly pleasing visually, but the scene in the palace ballroom has a very ugly mish-mash of a set in which the vision of Odette seems like an afterthought, thus missing a key dramatic point. Garish costumes for the national dances added to the cheesy effect.

But the lakeside scenes were fine, and the 48 swans were wonderfully in-sync choreographically, making the stage seem full but not over-crowded. Mr. Deane deploys them skillfully as they form pleasing patterns and make smooth entrances and exits throughout the White Swan act. Zhu Haibo, a Rothbart with expansive wings dripping with seaweed, menaced Odette and her prince as Rothbarts have ever been wont to do.

There’s no Jester in this production, nor does the prince have any friends to join him on his hunting expedition. There is a Tutor, who is thankfully not given much to do.

At the heart of the matter, Qi Bingxue as Odette/Odile and Wu Husheng as Siegfried (above) danced expressively and with technical polish. Their love, doomed from the start, played out in the moving tenderness of their partnering, in their effortless brilliance in the feats of the Black Swan pas de deux, and in the jolt of betrayal. But the production ends rather weakly, as the lovers float over the stage on a large swan-boat while Rothbart lay dying. Once you’ve experienced the final moments of the Peter Martins SWAN LAKE, nothing else compares.

The New York City Ballet orchestra played the familiar score with some very nice solo parts shining thru, and Charles Barker conducted, keeping a firm rein on things whilst also admirably supporting the principal couple thru both the poignant and the showy passages.

Late seating, and ushers wandering the aisles to admonish viewers about cellphones during the music, were serious distractions, as were the constant babbling of the two Russian women seated next to us, and of the two silly queens sitting behind us. But we stayed until the end, because Wei was enjoying it.

Production photos by North American Photography Associates, courtesy of Michelle Tabnick PR

~ Oberon

January 19, 2020
Shanghai Ballet’s SWAN LAKE

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday January 18th, 2020 – Billed as the “Grand SWAN LAKE“, Shanghai Ballet’s production of the Tchaikovsky classic arrived at Lincoln Center for four performances, of which we saw he third. In this very traditional setting, the Derek Deane Petipa-based choreography offers no surprises, aside from the sheer number of swans to be seen: I guess that’s what makes it “grand”.

The production is mostly pleasing visually, but the scene in the palace ballroom has a very ugly mish-mash of a set in which the vision of Odette seems like an afterthought, thus missing a key dramatic point. Garish costumes for the national dances added to the cheesy effect.

But the lakeside scenes were fine, and the 48 swans were wonderfully in-sync choreographically, making the stage seem full but not over-crowded. Mr. Deane deploys them skillfully as they form pleasing patterns and make smooth entrances and exits throughout the White Swan act. Zhu Haibo, a Rothbart with expansive wings dripping with seaweed, menaced Odette and her prince as Rothbarts have ever been wont to do.

There’s no Jester in this production, nor does the prince have any friends to join him on his hunting expedition. There is a Tutor, who is thankfully not given much to do.

At the heart of the matter, Qi Bingxue as Odette/Odile and Wu Husheng as Siegfried (above) danced expressively and with technical polish. Their love, doomed from the start, played out in the moving tenderness of their partnering, in their effortless brilliance in the feats of the Black Swan pas de deux, and in the jolt of betrayal. But the production ends rather weakly, as the lovers float over the stage on a large swan-boat while Rothbart lay dying. Once you’ve experienced the final moments of the Peter Martins SWAN LAKE, nothing else compares.

The New York City Ballet orchestra played the familiar score with some very nice solo parts shining thru, and Charles Barker conducted, keeping a firm rein on things whilst also admirably supporting the principal couple thru both the poignant and the showy passages.

Late seating, and ushers wandering the aisles to admonish viewers about cellphones during the music, were serious distractions, as were the constant babbling of the two Russian women seated next to us, and of the two silly queens sitting behind us. But we stayed until the end, because Wei was enjoying it.

Production photos by North American Photography Associates, courtesy of Michelle Tabnick PR

~ Oberon

January 18, 2020
A Memorable ROSENKAVALIER

[Reviving this article, which has been updated with some audio clips]

In 1983, the Metropolitan Opera took DER ROSENKAVALIER on their annual Spring tour. James Levine was the conductor and the stellar cast was led by Elisabeth Söderström (above) as the Marschallin, Frederica von Stade as Octavian, Kathleen Battle as Sophie, and Aage Haugland as Baron Ochs. Interestingly, this particular alignment of stars never performed the Strauss opera at The Met. It was given in six cities on the tour, culminating with this performance…

…in Boston, which I was lucky enough to attend. Unfortunately one of my most vivid memories of the evening was the presence of some people sitting about six rows behind me who talked throughout the performance. Even though I had sprung for an orchestra seat – the better to concentrate on the array of vocal talent onstage – these people served notice that sitting in expensive seats doesn’t make you classy. They were continuously being shushed by people around them (as annoying as their talking, actually) and the usher came to admonish them at one point. Apparently they had some sort of clout that kept them from being ejected; at any rate, they spoiled a great performance. I’m sure they are all dead now, and good riddance.

Despite this major distraction, the performance was extremely moving and superbly sung. Maestro Levine, whose 1976 ROSENKAVALIER broadcast had seemed sluggish and thick-textured orchestrally, was now fully in his element with the Strauss score. The towering Aage Haugland – a great favorite of mine during his Met career – was a grand Baron Ochs, and Miss Battle was a shimmering-voiced Sophie.

It was the vocal and theatrical chemistry between Elisabeth Söderström and Frederica von Stade that gave this ROSENKAVALIER its unique appeal. Their older women/younger man romance was brilliantly portrayed, while their distinctive vocal timbres served their respective characters to perfection. By this point in time, the Söderström voice was an expressive rather than opulent instrument, but she truly knew her way around this music and her singing was so meshed with the character’s moods – it was simply all of a piece. In the monolog, she poked fun at herself as “die alte frau, die alte Marschallin“, sung with a crackly old-lady sound. Telling Octavian that he will soon tire of their romance, she seized von Stade by the shoulders, trying to shake some sense into him. The Söderström Marschallin was an unforgettable mixture of dignity, bitterness, and nostalgia: a woman who watches something cherishable slipping thru her fingers and finds the courage to let it go.

Frederica von Stade, with her immaculately tailored sound, was boyish and impetuous in behavior. and her vocalism was always elegant and wonderfully personal. Other Octavians – Ludwig (my first!), Baltsa, Troyanos – have sung this music in grander style but no other Octavian of my experience has quite captured the coltish confusion of a boy on the brink of manhood who has a loving heart and a tender, noble young spirit…which von Stade showed us so memorably.

While the Söderström/Battle/von Stade collaboration was never heard in a complete public performance of ROSENKAVALIER here in New York City, the three women did perform the opera’s Act III trio at the Met’s 100th anniversary gala. The day-long celebration was telecast live; I attended the matinee portion and can attest to the palpable atmosphere in the house as the three women sang this magical Strauss creation. You can listen to them here, with Levine on the podium.

For years, I assumed this film clip was the only extant souvenir of this unforgettable convergence of voices – though I am sure someone recorded it someplace along the tour’s path – but recently my friend Ben Weaver surprised me with recordings of the first and third acts in very good sound from a rehearsal at the Met just before the tour commenced. Someone there had the presence of mind to realize that this was a rarity in the making and that Ms. Söderström’s Marschallin was a jewel worth preserving; and so this valuable sound document has come down to me, some thirty years after the event.

Elisabeth Söderström – monolog from ROSENKAVALIER~Act I – Levine cond – Met stage rehearsal 1983

Frederica von Stade (above) regrettably never sang a complete Octavian at The Met – though she did sing a gorgeous Rose Presentation duet with Judith Blegen on the same gala programme as the filmed clip above.

In 1987, Elisabeth Söderström made her ‘first’ Met farewell singing the Marschallin on a Saturday matinee which was broadcast. That was a very moving experience, yet it has always been the Boston performance that’s stayed so clearly in my mind. The magic of the Söderström Marschallin is so perfectly distilled in the closing moments of Act I, where her ‘silberne rosen‘ takes on a ghostly patina of lyrical regret and resignation.

Elisabeth Söderström – Die silberne rose – 1st Met farewell 2~21~87

~ Oberon

November 29, 2019
The Soldier’s Tale @ Chamber Music Society

Above: pianist Anne Marie McDermott

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday November 24th, 2019 – A thoughtfully-devised program this evening at Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center gave prominence to the inspired – and inspiring – pianist Anne-Marie McDermott. Ms. McDermott has given me some of my happiest times at CMS, most memorably with her playing of Mozart’s K. 466 in May 2018: a performance which drew a vociferous ovation.

Tonight, the pianist played in every work on the program, commencing with Beethoven’s Trio in B-flat major for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano, Op. 11 (1797) for which she was joined by the Spanish clarinetist Jose Franch-Ballester, and cellist Gary Hoffman, whose leap to prominence followed his 1986 win of the Rostropovich International Competition in Paris. Together, the three musicians filled Beethoven’s score with vibrant musicality.

The timbres of the three ‘voices’ aligned perfectly, and rhythmic clarity was a hallmark of their performance. Dramatic accents cropped up in the opening Allegro con brio, to which a pensive interlude brings contrast.

A waltz-like motif for the cello is taken up by the clarinet in the Adagio: a fine opportunity to savor the coloristic gifts of Mssrs. Franch-Ballester and Hoffman. Ms. McDermott brought gentley nuances to the mix, and, after a slightly darker passage, her delicacy of touch underscored Mr. Hoffman’s graciously expressive softness of melody.

The trio’s finale is a theme-and-variations affair which gets off to a perky start. The first variation brings some elaborate piano passages, the second a cello/clarinet duo, and the third is fast and fun. After veering into minor mode for the fourth variation, the music proceeds to a passing about of the theme, a petite marche, some tickling trills from the keyboard, and a witty finish.

The concert’s centerpiece was a vivid performance of Igor Stravinsky’s L’Histoire du soldat (The Soldier’s Tale), in the trio version for violin, clarinet, and piano (1918, arranged 1919), Mr. Franch-Ballester brought two clarinets to the stage for this work, which commences with The Soldier’s March, filled with jaunty swagger and relentless piano. A bouncing piano figuration introduces The Soldier’s Violin, wherein Ida Kavafian’s bow dances across the strings, and the clarinet provides a sense of jollity. The music seems about to fade away until it hits a punctuating chord.

A Little Concert brings swirls of notes, the piano rhythm pulsing along. The music has an ironic feeling, and turns insistent before its sudden end. A dance triptych (Tango, Waltz, Ragtime) finds Ms. Kavafian’s violin in waltzing mode, with rhythmic piano and commenting clarinet. The final movement of his colourful suite, The Devil’s Dance, has a wild streak. The three musicians seemed truly to enjoy playing this miniature masterpiece, which clocks in at a mere fifteen minutes but covers a lot of musical territory in its course.

Following the interval, Ms. McDermott had the stage all to herself with some marvelous Mendelssohn: selections from Lieder ohne Worte (Songs Without Words). She chose numbers 1, 2, and 3 from the cycle which made for a nicely contrasted segment of the program. Her playing was both elegant and passionate, and her mastery of dynamics was very much to the fore.

Bedřich Smetana’s Trio in G-minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 15 (1855, revised in 1857) was written in memory of the composer’s four-year-old daughter Gabriela, who succumbed to scarlet fever in 1854.

Thus, the work begins with Ida Kavafian’s playing of a violin solo of yearning tenderness, with a rise in passion which subsides to a cello theme and an ascending phrase for the violin. Suddenly, a forward impetus springs up, and the music gathers steam to a grand outburst. Following a brief violin cadenza, the string players introduce a buzzy agitato, over which Ms. McDermott plays some sparkling piano passages. The music grows rhapsodic, and grand passions burst forth before Mr. Hoffman’s lyrical cello and Ms. Kavafian’s shining violin conspire to play on our emotions. The Moderato assai comes to an emphatic, passionate conclusion.

Bustling, almost furtive strings lend a scherzo-like feeling to the start of the second movement. Melodic motifs sing forth, building to grandeur before finding a quiet place to conclude. The three musicians dig in for the final Presto, for which Ms. McDermott sets a fast pace. In a reflective mood, Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Hoffman have appealing solo passages, and the pianist a thoughtful interlude.

Now some fast plucking takes over, and the music dances along for a bit. But a calmer mood returns, with the music going deep. The trio ends grandly, with an affirmative air of hope springing from the ashes of tragedy.

~ Oberon

November 25, 2019
NCB Farewells ~ Gallery

Above: pianist Melody Fader and dancers Elizabeth Brown and Sarah Atkins in Miro Magloire’s Klavierstück

Photographer Arnaud Falchier provides these images from the Saturday November 23rd, 2019, performance at Miro Magloire’s New Chamber Ballet. The evening marked the farewell performances of two longtime Company dancers: Elizabeth Brown and Sarah Atkins. Read about the performance here.

Sarah Atkins in the solo For Another Day, created for her by Miro

Sarah Atkins in For Another Day

Miro’s gift to founding Company dancer Elizabeth Brown: the solo Morning Song

Elizabeth Brown in her solo Morning Song

Former members gather to celebrate the community that is New Chamber Ballet in As One

Alumni and current NCB dancers in As One

Elizabeth Brown and Sarah Atkins taking their final New Chamber Ballet bows

All photos by Arnaud Falchier

~ Oberon

November 24, 2019
Farewells @ New Chamber Ballet

Above: Elizabeth Brown and Sarah Atkins of New Chamber Ballet, photo by Kokyat

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday November 23rd, 2019 – While I felt happy to be part of New Chamber Ballet’s 15th anniversary season, tonight felt bittersweet as two dancers long associated with Miro Magloire’s company were giving their farewell performances: Elizabeth Brown (a founding member) and Sarah Atkins.

Over the years since I began following Miro’s work, his Company has undergone many changes in roster. Inevitably, with smaller dance troupes, one forms an attachment to individual dancers, and this is especially true of New Chamber Ballet as Miro has frequently invited to me rehearsals over the years, so that I’ve often felt like I’m a non-dancing member of the family. Watching Elizabeth and Sarah tonight brought back so many memories, not only of their own performances but of all the other women they have danced with thru the years. This kind of nostalgia is lovely in its way, but it also means we’re all getting older.

The evening’s program opened with Klavierstück, to solo piano music by Karlheinz Stockhausen. The grand piano had been rolled into the center of the space, where pianist Melody Fader deftly took in stride the composer’s demands. Danced by the evenings two honorees – Elizabeth Brown and Sarah Atkins – it’s a work in which the piano becomes an altar or shrine.

Above: Sarah Atkins, photo by Kokyat

Next came a solo, For Another Day, created by Miro specially for Sarah Atkins. With the piano now back in its usual place at the point of the seating diamond, Melody Fader played the sixth of Franz Schubert’s Moments musicaux to which Ms. Atkins danced with a deep sense of the music’s lyrical flow. Circling the space, the dancer made eye contact with audience members: a beautiful expression of leave-taking. To dance this gorgeously at one’s farewell speaks volumes for Sarah’s technique and artistry. As the solo ended, a tidal wave of vociferous applause cheers was unleashed; everyone stood up to salute the dancer, who had to bow many times.

For an excerpt from Miro’s full-length work Phantom, music of Wolfgang Rihm, which veers from dreamlike to dramatic, was marvelously played by Ms. Fader and the enormously talented violinist Doori Na. Here we must pause to praise the technical assurance of the fearlessly adventurous Melody and Doori, who tackle any score Miro sets before them with flair. Over the years, they – as much as the choreography and dancing – have made New Chamber Ballet so distinctive. A chance to peer over Doori’s shoulder at his illuminated score for the Rihm was a highlight of my evening.

The dancers – Amber Neff, Rachele Perla and NCB newcomers Anabel Alpert and Megan Foley – coped well with the choreography, which is often floor-oriented and includes demanding passages of the same-sex partnering that Miro has been developing in recent works. Tonight, in this gala setting, it seemed earthbound and over-long. Matters were not helped by the audience seating configuration, which feels like a airport boarding lounge when the flights have been delayed.

Above: Elizabeth Brown rehearsing Morning Star with violinist Doori Na, photo by Nir Arieli

This was my third viewing of Morning Song, the solo Miro made in 2017 for Elizabeth Brown to John Cage’s violin piece “Cheap Imitation”. A new costume for this ballet tonight was less to my liking than the original, but that became irrelevant during this sensational performance by Ms. Brown and Mr. Na.

Morning Star is one of Miro’s greatest creations, and my favorite among all his works. Elizabeth Brown is the inspirational force behind the solo’s success, with its feeling of timeless ritual and quiet ecstasy. It is a portrait of feminine power and mystique, and Ms. Brown dances it divinely. It ends as the dancer circles the space in hypnotically slow turns, finishing with an Isadora-like greeting of the dawn, arms upraised.

As a founding member of New Chamber Ballet, Elizabeth has been an superlative muse for Miro, and an inspiration for dance-lovers; her technical prowess, unique persona, and deep devotion to the art merit the highest praise.

During the mammoth applause that greeted her after Morning Song this evening, Elizabeth and Doori bowed deeply to one another, underscoring the intrinsic connection between music and dance that is Miro’s trademark.

To conclude the program, Miro offered a pièce d’occasion entitled As One. Set to Antonín Dvořák’s Romance for violin and piano – played with impeccable verve, charm, and joy by Melody Fader and Doori Na – the work is Miro’s hymn to all the dancers who have performed for him thru New Chamber Ballet’s 15-year history.

As such, and in a celebratory move that seemed to take Elizabeth and Sarah by surprise, a bevy of former NCB dancers who had been seated randomly among the crowd suddenly rose and stepped into the dance space, performing an homage to the two departing stars whilst also celebrating the continuum of Miro’s tireless work, in which the dancers and the dance are one.

Above: Elizabeth and Sarah. Thanks for the memories, ladies…and please: keep on dancing!

~ Oberon

November 23, 2019
Julia Fischer|Philippe Jordan @ The NY Phil

Above: violinist Julia Fischer

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday October 30th, 2019 – Philippe Jordan was on the podium at Geffen Hall this evening as The New York Philharmonic presented their program of Prokofiev, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven: an ideal mix, in my opinion. The comely and compelling violinist Julia Fischer was the guest soloist for Mendelssohn’s violin concerto, the orchestra’s stellar woodwind soloists were all present and accounted for, and the entire evening had a special glow about it.

Prokofiev’s Symphony No. 1, Classical, strikes me as a perfect piece of music. At a running time of just 15 minutes, the symphony is a compact delight, abounding in rhythmic variety and appealing themes. The opening Allegro con brio is in the traditional sonata form, but the composer keeps throwing us curve balls: witty bits crop up out of nowhere. Maestro Jordan and the Philharmonic artists seemed truly to enjoy playing this music, which, in the flashing leaps and zesty grace notes of the second theme made me smile to myself.

A gentle melody on high for the violins is the key feature of the Larghetto, with pizzicati, treading basses, and colourful bassoons all part of the composer’s scheme. The Gavotte makes me think of the composer’s ROMEO AND JULIET, while the ebullient finale sounded wonderfully clear and alive. Throughout, flautist Robert Langevin, clarinetists Anthony McGill and Pascual Martínez-Forteza, oboist Sherry Sylar, bassoonist Judith LeClair, and their woodwind-section colleagues charmed the ear with their polished playing; when Maestro Jordan asked them to stand for a bow, the audience responded warmly.

Violinist Julia Fischer then joined the orchestra for Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E-minor. This was my first opportunity to hear Ms. Fischer playing live; she sounded marvelous and looked fetching is a deep grey gown shot thru with glimmering silver. There’s shining silver in her sleek tone as well.

The first movement’s marking of Allegro molto appassionato derives from the composer’s premonition of writing “…[A concerto] in E-minor running through my head, the beginning of which gives me no peace.” With splendid support from the orchestra, Ms. Fischer displayed her expressive gifts, lovely feeling for dynamics, and exquisite control of pianissimo. In the cadenza, her soft playing in the stratosphere was remarkable; this she followed with a rocking motif as the ensemble take up the theme. The music becomes very animated as the Allegro moves to its finish.

A sustained bassoon tone carries the music directly into the Andante wherein the glowing melody is given a tender, haunting quality as Ms. Fischer’s playing moves serenely from piano to pianissimo: simply breathtaking

Following a brief interlude, the violinist embarks on festoons of fiorature – played with sparkling surety – in the concerto’s concluding movement. Passages of Mendessohnian ‘faerie music’ are heard, and then Ms. Fischer revels in the rapid-bowing of the effervescent finale. With the final note of the concerto still hanging on the air, the audience unleashed a tumultuous applause, and everyone stood up to cheer. Ms. Fischer and Maestro Jordan are clearly simpatico, and their performance was thrilling. The crowd clearly wanted an encore, but none was forthcoming.

Above: Maestro Philippe Jordan

The concluding work, Beethoven’s 7th symphony, was magnificently shaped by the Maestro, who dips and bends into the music, eliciting splendid playing from the orchestra. This symphony has a dance-like sense of forward momentum upon which Mssr Jordan built his interpretation. His pacing – on the fast side – was so vital, and the textures of the music so lovingly layered, with the wind soloists again producing magical effects.

Swept along by the music, I put away my pen and indulged myself in forty minutes of pure selfish enjoyment. One small and intriguing motif in this symphony that always captures my imagination is a seeming “preview” of six-note passage from the Grail knights’ march in Wagner’s PARSIFAL music. Did Wagner openly borrow this from Beethoven, or is it a subconscious association? Either way, it played over and over in my mind during the train ride home.

This has so far been a particularly impressive and satisfying season for classical music here in Gotham, and tonight’s concert was yet another edifying experience.

~ Oberon

October 30, 2019
Emanuel Ax|Stéphane Denève @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Emanuel Ax

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday October 26th, 2019 – How wonderful to encounter Emanuel Ax again so soon after his lovely performance of the Schumann piano quintet with the Dover Quartet last week at Zankel Hall. Tonight the great pianist joined The New York Philharmonic for Beethoven’s Piano Concerto #1.

The announced program looked long on paper, and indeed – after an engrossing first half – there was something of a slump with Albert Roussel’s 3rd symphony. It’s understandable that Maestro Stéphane Denève would want to include it, but somehow it did not quite fit in with the other works: it didn’t hold hold up well in the company of Beethoven and Ravel.

Above: composer Jennifer Higdon

Jennifer Higdon’s blue cathedral, composed in 2000 in memory of her brother, opened the evening. Read the composer’s eloquent program note on this work here.

blue cathedral opens with most ethereal of sounds: barely audible at first, the music slowly seeps into our consciousness. Cello, the plaintive flute, clarinet, piano, and harp bring their colours to bear; the strings are lush and grand, with the high violins set against the deep celli and basses. A massive wave of drums and low brass hits like a tsunami. The marimba, oboe, and Cynthia Phelps’ dusky viola are heard: each solo voice seems to evoke a particular memory of the departed.

The music then becomes cinematic, with a back-beat dynamic. Brass fanfares lead to epic grandeur before calm sets in. Now the solo voices are heard again – flute, clarinet, oboe – and an especially fine passage for a cello/viola quartet as the music fades to the gentle chiming of a solitary bell.

In her program note, Ms. Higdon wrote about her use of the clarinet, which was her brother’s instrument. It was in the passages for that instrument, sublimely played by the inimitable Pascual Martínez-Forteza, that Ms. Higdon’s moving tribute to her sibling found its most poignant voice.

Emanuel Ax, ever a welcome guest at the Philharmonic, was warmly greeted as he took his place at the Steinway. The pianist sat quietly as the musical introduction – at first courtly, then stately – sets the mood. Mr. Ax then began his enchanting performance: crystal-clear arpeggios, subtly modulated, drew us in. Beethoven’s font of melody – both for the pianist and the orchestra – is filled to overflowing. In a long paragraph, the pianist displayed his gifts with nimble downhill scales played pianissimo, and cascades of notes of great delicacy, clarity, and warmth.

Following a majestic orchestral passage, the long cadenza – which seems almost like a sonata in itself – was impeccably delivered, the audience in a state of rapt attentiveness. One sensed that an ovation might erupt at this point, but Maestro Denève was able to forestall an intrusion by keeping a cautionary hand raised.

Now came the Largo, featuring one of Beethoven’s most gorgeous themes. For the next several minutes, my companion and I were transfixed by the ongoing dialog between Mr. Ax’s keyboard and Pascual Martínez-Forteza’s clarinet. Two great musicians, trading subtleties: mesmerizing!

Mr. Ax immediately commenced the concerto’s concluding Rondo: Allegro, bringing to mind – with its jaunty interjections – the ballet Prism which Helgi Tomasson choreographed to this score for New York City Ballet in 2000. The esteemed pianist continued to dazzle us right to the last note, causing the audience to leap to their collective feet as he took his bows; Mr. Martínez-Forteza was also asked to rise, deservedly so.

An encore was demanded, and Mr. Ax sustained the ballet connection for me with his Chopin, used by Jerome Robbins in his ballet Dances at a Gathering.

Following the interval, Maestro Stéphane Denève (above) brought us two works by his fellow Frenchmen: Albert Roussel’s Symphony #3 (composed 1929-1930) and Maurice Ravel’s immortal La Valse, which premiered in 1930.

The Roussel at first seemed wonderfully refreshing: its jazzy, driven, bustling opening augured well for thorough enjoyment. Yet as the work unfolded, it seemed full of ideas but lacking in coherence. The first, second, and fourth movements each felt overly long, and there was a sense of increased audience restlessness. The piece features a lot of ‘big’ music; rhythmic variety and enticing instrumentation are never lacking. Though poignant, witty, and ebullient by turns, the music slips in one ear and out the other, leaving little lasting impression. Some wonderful solo passages for violin, played beautifully by Frank Huang, were appealing.

Above: New York City Ballet’s Marika Anderson in George Balanchine’s La Valse

“We are dancing on the edge of a volcano…” wrote Maurice Ravel’s in his notes for La Valse. Such a timely concept, as our world these days often seems to be rushing toward its doom. This music, which George Balanchine choreographed for his evocative “death and the maiden” ballet of the same title, has been with me for decades.

Tonight’s performance, under Maestro Denève’s ardent baton, was everything one can hope for in this marvelous music. The musicians made the most of every opportunity, whether by solo or by section. La Valse again entranced with its dark allure and inevitability. Resistance is futile.

As we were walking down to the subway, my friend Cherylyn Lavagnino and I both spoke of the effect that the playing of Mssrs Ax and Martínez-Forteza in the Beethoven adagio had on us, and of the consolation of such musical experiences in these dark days. Thank you, gentlemen.

~ Oberon

October 26, 2019
Miró Quartet @ Weill Hall

Above, the Miró Quartet: Daniel Ching and William Fedkenheuer (violins), Joshua Grindele (cello), and John Largess (viola). Photo by Naova Ikegami.

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday October 25th, 2019 – For their concert at Weill Hall this evening, the Miró Quartet honored the history of string quartet performance in America by replicating a program performed by the country’s first professional touring string quartet – the Kneisel Quartet – over a hundred years ago.

Franz Kneisel, then concertmaster of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, founded his quartet in 1885. The program offered tonight by the Miró was first performed by the Kneisel in 1910 during the Kneisel Quartet’s 25th anniversary season. The Miró Quartet are celebrating their own 25th anniversary this season, so the connection has layers of meaning.

The first half of tonight’s concert was beset with extraneous distractions; following an over-long interval, the Miró took the chill off a hall that had become frigid due to A/C overload with their sizzling performance of Schubert’s Death and the Maiden.

Mozart’s “Hunt” quartet, K.458, opened the evening. The Miró’s violinists faced one another, with the cellist and violist in the middle. Right from the music’s joyous start, a wonderful vitality could be felt in the quartet’s music-making. Daniel Ching’s trill tickled the ear, and a five-note motif was passed from player to player with wit and sparkle. A gracious interlude and a paragraph in the minor key were so persuasively delivered.

The cordial mood the Miró had established was then spoilt by late seating. It took a while for things to re-settle in the hall. There were more latecomers allowed in later. Very distracting.

The Menuetto: Moderato profited from lovely depth of tone from each player. The ensuing Adagio has the feel of a melancholy bel canto aria, with a tender melody sung first by the violin and then taken up by the cello. As the movement continued, with exquisite playing from Mr. Ching, the sound of quiet snoring crept into our collective consciousness. I could not tell if the players could hear it or not. At any rate, they carried on with the sprightly start of the final Allegro assai, the cellist reveling in his rich tone, everything lively and appealing.

The Kneisel Quartet were advocates for contemporary works of their day; thus music by Reinhold Glière and César Franck was on the program; it felt odd to hear only parts of string quartets by these two composers, but it seems that the idea of playing individual movements of works was not frowned upon in 1910.

Each of the three remaining works on the program’s first half was prefaced by a spoken introduction from one of the players. As there was a very thorough program note about the content of the concert, the talking seemed unnecessary.

The Glière Andante (his Opus 1, #2) and the Franck Scherzo were delightfully played. The Glière is a ‘theme-and-variations’ affair, launched by the viola and cello playing pizzicati under sustained tones from the violins. A gently rocking feeling takes over, with decorative fiorature from the violin; then the music turns fast and furious, with the brisk, deep cello bringing a sense of urgency. Ethereal sounds from the violin next lend a pensive air – very subtle playing here – and then a dance springs up, with plucking lower voices and shivering violins.

The Franck Scherzo, the shortest movement of his lengthy D-major Quartet, brought forth mutes for the violins, lending the charming piece a magical lightness akin to Mendelssohn’s faerie music.

Above: pianist Stephanie Ho, photographed by Masataka Suemitsu

In another departure from ‘normal’ string quartet programming, the unusual inclusion of a work for cello and piano on tonight’s program points up yet again how things were sometimes done back in the day. Pianist Stephanie Ho joined the Miró’s cellist Joshua Gindele tonight for Adrien-François Servais’ Fantasie sur deux air Russes.

The cellist and pianist are long-time friends and colleagues, so their playing was beautifully meshed and simpatico. Ms. Ho commenced the work with a solemn opening piano statement. The first cello melody, oddly familiar, was lushly played. And then, with a delicious trill from Mr. Gindele, a dance strikes up, and it soon turning into a gallop. The cello goes very high, and then very low. Following some hesitations, a sad waltz develops. This leads to a virtuoso competition between cello and piano…great fun! After a few small detours, comes the brilliant finish. The two musicians embraced as the audience warmly applauded their expert performance.

Returning after the prolonged interval, the Miró Quartet swept aside any and all distractions or concerns with a thrilling rendering of Schubert’s immortal Death and the Maiden.

The opening Allegro drew vibrant playing from the Miró. The individuality of the players’ respective timbres achieves a surprisingly coherent, compelling blend: they make this familiar music sound fresh – and what more can we ask? Their rhythmic surety and variety of dynamics make their playing irresistible.

The sublime Andante con moto, which introduces the doleful “Death” theme, moved me deeply with its air of hushed lamenting. The emotional ebb and flow of this movement seemed to well up from Mr. Gindele’s richly resonant cello, suffusing the whole with a spiritual glow.

The Scherzo is quite brief; we don’t know if Wagner intentionally lifted one rhythmic motif here to serve as a leitmotif for Nibelheim in his opera DAS RHEINGOLD, but it always gives me a smile.

Now the finale is reached, with Mr. Ching festooning the music with precise filigree over the passion and drive of his colleagues’ playing. A high-velocity rush suddenly shifts into hyper-gear as the music careens almost recklessly to its end.

Playing at the peak of their powers, the dazzling Miró artists turned the concluding Presto into the crowning glory of this outstanding musical experience. Though “death’ is in the work’s title, the word I kept scrawling in my notes about the Miró’s playing was: “…alive..!”

~ Oberon

October 25, 2019
Karole Armitage’s You Took a Part of Me

Above: Sierra French and Megumi Eda in Karole Armitage’s You Took a Part of Me; photo by Julie Lemberger

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday October 23, 2019 – Karole Armitage’s You Took a Part of Me, trailers and photos of which were apparently banned on Twitter, is playing this week at New York Live Arts. Drawing inspiration from Noh, the ancient ritualized Japanese form of dance-drama, You Took a Part of Me centers on the memory of an erotically charged love affair which has left a Woman (now a Ghost) in search of emotional resolution and a restoration of inner peace.

On entering the theater, we see the stage set with an elevated platform outlined in fluorescent lights, with a small adjacent space with a low stool stage left; overhead, a square of tube light hovers. You Took a Part of Me is performed by three dancers: Megumi Eda (the Ghost), Sierra French (her Double), and Christian Laverde-Koenig (her Lover). A fourth dancer, Alonso Guzman, clad all in black with his face partly hidden, takes the traditional Noh role of the koken, a sort of valet. The lighting design by Clifton Taylor and the costuming by Peter Speliopoulos were key elements in the production’s success.

Set to a poignantly spare, flute-centric score by Reiko Yamada, You Took a Part of Me unfolds in seven movements. Initially I felt that we might be watching a silent play, but the ballet is in fact filled with gorgeous, stylized dancing that flows like classical Japanese calligraphy. As the Woman’s memories darken, the dance becomes more angular and somewhat smudged.

The Woman/Ghost is first seen seated on the low stool, the konen assisting her with her long hair. Her Double appears: identically clad in long white trousers, they seem like conjoined twins, with their hair entwined. They perform a mirror duet, in sync or in echo effect, with lyrical port de bras. During this, the Lover has taken a seat on the stool; an actor waiting for his entrance, he stares into the audience.

Above: Christian Laverde-Koenig and Megumi Eda; photo by Steven Pisano

The Ghost and her Lover now dance a Memory Duet. To a spellbinding flute solo, they at first seem cordial and graceful, but then the seductiveness veers toward a more controlling stance on the Lover’s part. The konen enters and strips the two dancers down to thongs. The duet becomes intensely intimate, the flute so evocative of their passion. After their climax, silence falls. The Lover silently departs.

As the Ghost dances a solo, Abandonment, the Lover – having put his shirt and trousers on – reappears and again sits on the stool. Ms. Eda, as the Ghost, collapses to the floor as her Double appears. Mr. Laverde-Koenig and Ms. French now engage in a pas de deux, Hijacked Mind, which replicates his earlier duet with Ms. Eda.

In this intriguing scene (Julie Lemberger photo, above), as Ms. Eda dreams on the floor, the Double and the Lover seem to mimic his earlier duet with the Ghost. But here he often controls his partner without touching her. The konen again strips the couple; Ms. Eda rises and she and Ms. French have a competitive duet. As this progresses, Mr. Laverde-Koening reappears – now clad only in his thong – and again sits staring into space. Then a trio, Attachments, ends with the three wrapped in a seemingly naked knot on the floor.

Now the Ghost/Woman is left alone, in white as at the start, the konen again ministering to her needs. She retains one of her long hairpins. As her memories replay in her mind, I found myself wondering if she intended to commit seppuku, inserting the pin into her neck, cutting the arteries with one stroke. This was the form of ritual suicide practiced by the widows of disgraced samurai.

Above: Christian Laverde-Koenig and Megumi Eda; photo by Julieta Cervantes

Between the excellence of the dancers, the power and poetry of the movement, and the sublime resonance of the music, You Took a Part of Me held the audience enraptured.

Faye Arthurs, who I had a chance to catch up with after the performance, interviewed Karole Armitage for Fjord.

~ Oberon

October 24, 2019