Category: Dance

Mendelssohn’s Sorrow @ Chamber Music Society
Above: the Schumann Quartet

Sunday February 26th, 2017 – Following last week’s Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s program centering on joy-filled music by Felix Mendelssohn, we were back at Alice Tully Hall to experience the great composer’s more melancholy moods. With music of Bach and Schumann also on offer, we became acquainted with Schumann String Quartet, and could admire once again three artists whose CMS performances to date have given particular pleasure: violinist Danbi Um, cellist Jakob Koranyi, and pianist Juho Pohjonen.

Mr. Pohjonen (above) opened the evening with Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903. The Finnish pianist’s elegance of technique and his Olde World mystique always summon up for me visions of pianists from bygone days performing in the drawing rooms of Paris, Budapest, or Vienna. But for all those dreamworld allusions, Mr. Pohjonen’s playing has vibrant immediacy and is very much of our time.

Mr. Pohjonen, in a program note, describes the Chromatic Fantasy as “labyrinthine”, and that it most surely is; but it’s a wonderful work to get lost in, and as the pianist drew us along the music’s sometimes eccentric, almost improvisational pathways, we could only marvel at the gradations of both subtlety and passion in his playing.

The Schumann Quartet intrigued us from the very opening notes of their rendering of Mendelssohn’s Fugue in E-flat major. From her first phrase, violist Liisa Randalu drew us in; the three Schumann brothers – Erik and Ken (violins), and Mark (cello) – take up the wistful melody in turn. The music becomes gently animated, with the four voices blending serenely. Poignant colours from the rising violin and the honeyed resonance of the cello frame Ms. Randalu’s expressive playing. These textures will become key elements in the Schumann Quartet’s performance of the composer’s Quartet in F-minor, which followed immediately.

Mendelssohn’s last completed major work, the F-minor quartet was composed in 1847. On returning to Frankfurt from a tiring stay in London in early May, the composer soon learned that Fanny, his beloved sister, had died of a stroke. Mendelssohn struggled that summer with work on numerous projects, but was only able to complete this final quartet, dedicated to Fanny’s memory. On November 4th, he died following a series of strokes. He was 38 years old.

The F-minor quartet opens with scurrying attacks and a sense of restless energy. The music softens to a nervous pulsing as the cello sings from lyrical depths, with the luminous violin overhead. The movement then accelerates to a striking finish. The “scherzo” ironically mixes passionate phrases with delicate commentary. Viola and cello rumble darkly in the brief trio passage, then the tempest stirs up again before a little coda vanishes into thin air.

A simple song that Mendelssohn and Fanny had shared in happier times memorializes their bond in the touching Adagio, which commences with a descending cello passage. The recollections evoked by the song, which is a sweet melody in its own right, are now tinged with sadness. Superbly controlled tone from Erik Schumann’s violin was most affecting; the pulsing cello then heralds a surge of despairing passion.

The finale is restless, at times verging on dissonant. Passing notions of lyricism are swept away, and wild passages for the violin warn of an impending disaster. This is a composer on the brink.

The Schumann Quartet’s very impressive playing of this disturbing yet strangely beautiful piece earned them a very warm acclamation from the Tully Hall crowd. It is pleasing to know that they will be back with us next season in this same lovely space to share other aspects of their artistry – music from The Roaring Twenties on March 4th, 2018, and a full Schumann Quartet evening on April 29th, 2018, when they’ll play works of Haydn, Bartok, Reimann, and Schumann.

Following the interval, Mr. Pohjonen offered Robert Schumann’s Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18. This episodic piece has a narrative aspect, though none is stated or even implied. Mr. Pohjonen relished the melodious themes that rise up, veering from major to minor as the Arabesque flows forward. Subtle passages become treasurable in this pianist’s interpretation, and the poetic finish of the work was lovingly expressed.

Juho Pohjonen returned with his colleagues Danbi Um and Jakob Koranyi for Schumann’s Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63.

Above: Danbi Um, photo by Vanessa Briceño

Above: Jakob Koranyi, photo by Anna-Lena Ahlström

Ms. Um, lithe and lovely in a fair burgundy-hued gown, displayed the sweetness of tone that makes listening to her so enjoyable; Messrs Koranyi and Pohjonen are masters of dynamic nuance, and thus the three together delivered page after page of radiant, colorful playing.

The D-minor trio’s opening movement calls for rippling arpeggios from the pianist, expertly set forth by Mr. Pohjonen. Ms. Um and Mr. Koranyi harmonize and converse in passages which switch from lyrical yearning to emphatic declamation. A pause, and a new theme emerges: delicate at first, then turning passionate. A sense of agitation prevails in this movement, despite ‘settled’ moments: the three musicians captured these shifts of mood so well, and they savored the rather unexpected ending.

Marked “Lebhaft, doch nicht zu rasch” (‘Lively, but not rushed’), the scherzo has the feel of a scuffing, skipping dance. Rising and falling scales glow in the calmer interlude; but the dance soon strikes up again…and comes to a sudden halt.

The trio’s third movement embarks on a disconsolate violin passage, played with affecting expressiveness and lovely control by Ms. Um. When Mr. Koranyi’s cello joins in, this simple melody becomes increasingly touching. A gently urgent central section reverts to the slow, sad gorgeousness so evocatively sustained by our three musicians, the cello sounding from the depths.

The tuneful finale seems almost joyous, but shadows can still hover. The playing is marvelously integrated, becoming tender – almost dreamy – with smoothly rippling piano and the violin on the ascent. The themes mingle, developing into a big song. This simmers down briefly before a final rush of energy propels us to the finish.

I had felt pretty certain the Um-Koranyi-Pohjonen collaboration would produce memorable results, and I was right. We must hear them together again – soon – and let’s start with my favorite chamber works: the Mendelssohn piano trios. The audience shared my enthusiasm for the three musicians, calling them back for a second bow this evening.
- Bach Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903 (before 1723)
- Mendelssohn Fugue in E-flat major for String Quartet, Op. 81, No. 4 (1827)
- Mendelssohn Quartet in F minor for Strings, Op. 80 (1847)
- Schumann Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18 (1838-39)
- Schumann Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63 (1847)
February 27, 2017
Mendelssohn’s Sorrow @ Chamber Music Society
Above: the Schumann Quartet

Sunday February 26th, 2017 – Following last week’s Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s program centering on joy-filled music by Felix Mendelssohn, we were back at Alice Tully Hall to experience the great composer’s more melancholy moods. With music of Bach and Schumann also on offer, we became acquainted with Schumann String Quartet, and could admire once again three artists whose CMS performances to date have given particular pleasure: violinist Danbi Um, cellist Jakob Koranyi, and pianist Juho Pohjonen.

Mr. Pohjonen (above) opened the evening with Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903. The Finnish pianist’s elegance of technique and his Olde World mystique always summon up for me visions of pianists from bygone days performing in the drawing rooms of Paris, Budapest, or Vienna. But for all those dreamworld allusions, Mr. Pohjonen’s playing has vibrant immediacy and is very much of our time.

Mr. Pohjonen, in a program note, describes the Chromatic Fantasy as “labyrinthine”, and that it most surely is; but it’s a wonderful work to get lost in, and as the pianist drew us along the music’s sometimes eccentric, almost improvisational pathways, we could only marvel at the gradations of both subtlety and passion in his playing.

The Schumann Quartet intrigued us from the very opening notes of their rendering of Mendelssohn’s Fugue in E-flat major. From her first phrase, violist Liisa Randalu drew us in; the three Schumann brothers – Erik and Ken (violins), and Mark (cello) – take up the wistful melody in turn. The music becomes gently animated, with the four voices blending serenely. Poignant colours from the rising violin and the honeyed resonance of the cello frame Ms. Randalu’s expressive playing. These textures will become key elements in the Schumann Quartet’s performance of the composer’s Quartet in F-minor, which followed immediately.

Mendelssohn’s last completed major work, the F-minor quartet was composed in 1847. On returning to Frankfurt from a tiring stay in London in early May, the composer soon learned that Fanny, his beloved sister, had died of a stroke. Mendelssohn struggled that summer with work on numerous projects, but was only able to complete this final quartet, dedicated to Fanny’s memory. On November 4th, he died following a series of strokes. He was 38 years old.

The F-minor quartet opens with scurrying attacks and a sense of restless energy. The music softens to a nervous pulsing as the cello sings from lyrical depths, with the luminous violin overhead. The movement then accelerates to a striking finish. The “scherzo” ironically mixes passionate phrases with delicate commentary. Viola and cello rumble darkly in the brief trio passage, then the tempest stirs up again before a little coda vanishes into thin air.

A simple song that Mendelssohn and Fanny had shared in happier times memorializes their bond in the touching Adagio, which commences with a descending cello passage. The recollections evoked by the song, which is a sweet melody in its own right, are now tinged with sadness. Superbly controlled tone from Erik Schumann’s violin was most affecting; the pulsing cello then heralds a surge of despairing passion.

The finale is restless, at times verging on dissonant. Passing notions of lyricism are swept away, and wild passages for the violin warn of an impending disaster. This is a composer on the brink.

The Schumann Quartet’s very impressive playing of this disturbing yet strangely beautiful piece earned them a very warm acclamation from the Tully Hall crowd. It is pleasing to know that they will be back with us next season in this same lovely space to share other aspects of their artistry – music from The Roaring Twenties on March 4th, 2018, and a full Schumann Quartet evening on April 29th, 2018, when they’ll play works of Haydn, Bartok, Reimann, and Schumann.

Following the interval, Mr. Pohjonen offered Robert Schumann’s Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18. This episodic piece has a narrative aspect, though none is stated or even implied. Mr. Pohjonen relished the melodious themes that rise up, veering from major to minor as the Arabesque flows forward. Subtle passages become treasurable in this pianist’s interpretation, and the poetic finish of the work was lovingly expressed.

Juho Pohjonen returned with his colleagues Danbi Um and Jakob Koranyi for Schumann’s Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63.

Above: Danbi Um, photo by Vanessa Briceño

Above: Jakob Koranyi, photo by Anna-Lena Ahlström

Ms. Um, lithe and lovely in a fair burgundy-hued gown, displayed the sweetness of tone that makes listening to her so enjoyable; Messrs Koranyi and Pohjonen are masters of dynamic nuance, and thus the three together delivered page after page of radiant, colorful playing.

The D-minor trio’s opening movement calls for rippling arpeggios from the pianist, expertly set forth by Mr. Pohjonen. Ms. Um and Mr. Koranyi harmonize and converse in passages which switch from lyrical yearning to emphatic declamation. A pause, and a new theme emerges: delicate at first, then turning passionate. A sense of agitation prevails in this movement, despite ‘settled’ moments: the three musicians captured these shifts of mood so well, and they savored the rather unexpected ending.

Marked “Lebhaft, doch nicht zu rasch” (‘Lively, but not rushed’), the scherzo has the feel of a scuffing, skipping dance. Rising and falling scales glow in the calmer interlude; but the dance soon strikes up again…and comes to a sudden halt.

The trio’s third movement embarks on a disconsolate violin passage, played with affecting expressiveness and lovely control by Ms. Um. When Mr. Koranyi’s cello joins in, this simple melody becomes increasingly touching. A gently urgent central section reverts to the slow, sad gorgeousness so evocatively sustained by our three musicians, the cello sounding from the depths.

The tuneful finale seems almost joyous, but shadows can still hover. The playing is marvelously integrated, becoming tender – almost dreamy – with smoothly rippling piano and the violin on the ascent. The themes mingle, developing into a big song. This simmers down briefly before a final rush of energy propels us to the finish.

I had felt pretty certain the Um-Koranyi-Pohjonen collaboration would produce memorable results, and I was right. We must hear them together again – soon – and let’s start with my favorite chamber works: the Mendelssohn piano trios. The audience shared my enthusiasm for the three musicians, calling them back for a second bow this evening.
- Bach Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903 (before 1723)
- Mendelssohn Fugue in E-flat major for String Quartet, Op. 81, No. 4 (1827)
- Mendelssohn Quartet in F minor for Strings, Op. 80 (1847)
- Schumann Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18 (1838-39)
- Schumann Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63 (1847)
February 26, 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
Brahms & Fauré @ Chamber Music Society
Above: cellist Paul Watkins

Sunday January 29th, 2017 – Following an unsettling week, it was particularly reassuring to settle into the embracing space of Alice Tully Hall this evening and be serenaded by four estimable musicians in Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s program of works by Johannes Brahms and Gabriel Fauré.

In 1853, Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms teamed up with Schumann’s student, Albert Dietrich, to write a “welcome home” sonata for violinist/composer Joseph Joachim, whose travels had kept him away from Düsseldorf for several weeks. The music was set around the notes F-A-E, which stood for Joachim’s personal motto, “Frei, aber einsam” (‘Free, but lonely’). Dietrich wrote the first movement, with Schumann taking on the second and fourth, leaving Brahms with the third.

Joachim retained the sole copy of the score after performing it; he had the Brahms Scherzo published in 1906, after the composer’s death; the full sonata was not published until much later.

The complete ‘FAE Sonata‘ is rarely heard these days, but the Brahms Scherzo has become a popular stand-alone work in the chamber music repertoire. It commences in a brisk, passionate mode which returns following an affettuoso interlude. Tonight, violinist Ani Kavafian and pianist Alessio Bax brought great energy to the opening paragraph, subsiding to a gently rhapsodic state in the calm of the central section before setting up a spirited drive to the finish.

Violist Yura Lee and cellist Paul Watkins then joined Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Bax for the Fauré. A unison string theme opens the quartet, with the entrance of the piano filling out the sonic texture that will keep us enchanted for the next half-hour. Ms. Lee’s wonderfully sensitive playing – a hallmark of the evening – meshed lyrically with the sweetness of Ms. Kavafian’s violin, the quiet rapture of Mr. Watkins’ cello, and the elegant romance of Mr. Bax’s phrasing from the Steinway. The music veers briefly to the dramatic before subsiding into a cushioning warmth from viola and cello whilst the violin wafts on high.

Plucking strings and a rolling theme from Mr. Bax open the second movement. Later, the piano comments ironically as the strings try to revive the first movement’s main theme in a rather off-kilter manner; the music slows, and then steals away.

In the Adagio third movement, Yura Lee’s dreamy playing had a transportive quality; Fauré’s student Charles Koechlin has written that “…the viola would have to be invented for this Adagio if it did not already exist…”, and Ms. Lee’s playing underlined the truth of that notion. Moving forward, violin and piano achieve a lovely blend and the music begins to turn passionate; Fauré manages a balance of intensity and calm in this movement that is quite unique.

A darker and somewhat turbulent mood is created at the start of the quartet’s concluding Allegro molto: Ms. Lee and Mr. Watkins sing a deep theme together before a more lilting quality begins to rise. Mr. Bax commences a dance, drawing the string players in with his rhythmic emphasis as the music builds and dances on to an exuberant end.

Following the interval, the performance of the Brahms second quartet was somewhat compromised by the high-pitched sound of a faltering hearing-aid battery. After the quartet’s first movement, Ms. Kavafian asked the audience if they were hearing it too, and several people replied in the affirmative. The players took a moment to gather their concentration before proceeding. Annoying as such disruptive sounds are to the audience, it must be doubly difficult to play in such circumstances as the musicians are always listening for one another and the extraneous sound must be particularly jarring. They played on, admirably, and the noise seemed to subside as the performance evolved.

It was in the Brahms quartet that Mr. Bax seized upon the prominence the composer assigned to the piano’s role and delighted us with truly gorgeous playing; my notes are full of little stars and exclamation marks, and scrawls of “Bax…Bax…Bax!”

Rhythmic distinctiveness marks the first movement, the four players ever-alert to nuance as cello and violin each have a passage of stepping forward. And then, it’s in the Adagio that we get to the heart of the matter: commencing as a lullaby, the piano’s tranquil, song-like theme was an outstanding Bax passage. The string voices murmur deeply and the piano replies; passions ebb and flow, and the strings unite in a brief trio. Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Watkins play in unison, leading to the development of a big song from which the violinist eventually shimmers upward; a hushed coda aptly rounds out this Adagio dream.

A simple song opens the Scherzo, which moves on thru various permutations. A transition to a more energetic passage leads to more animated playing, with a Hungarian lilt. This gypsy colouring extends into the quartet’s concluding Allegro, with Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Bax leading the way. The folksy dance motifs, however, are tempered by an unhurried feeling. The music becomes almost gentle at times, before a final build-up.

We emerged into the cold chill of impending February, jolted back to the realities of life. Now – more than ever – we will seek solace in great music, art, poetry, and dance, looking to concert halls and museums as sanctuaries of reason and compassion.
- Brahms Scherzo, WoO 2, from “F-A-E” Sonata for Violin and Piano (1853)
- Fauré Quartet No. 2 in G minor for Piano, Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 45 (1885-86)
- Brahms Quartet No. 2 in A major for Piano, Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 26 (1861)
January 30, 2017
Brahms & Fauré @ Chamber Music Society
Above: cellist Paul Watkins

Sunday January 29th, 2017 – Following an unsettling week, it was particularly reassuring to settle into the embracing space of Alice Tully Hall this evening and be serenaded by four estimable musicians in Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s program of works by Johannes Brahms and Gabriel Fauré.

In 1853, Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms teamed up with Schumann’s student, Albert Dietrich, to write a “welcome home” sonata for violinist/composer Joseph Joachim, whose travels had kept him away from Düsseldorf for several weeks. The music was set around the notes F-A-E, which stood for Joachim’s personal motto, “Frei, aber einsam” (‘Free, but lonely’). Dietrich wrote the first movement, with Schumann taking on the second and fourth, leaving Brahms with the third.

Joachim retained the sole copy of the score after performing it; he had the Brahms Scherzo published in 1906, after the composer’s death; the full sonata was not published until much later.

The complete ‘FAE Sonata‘ is rarely heard these days, but the Brahms Scherzo has become a popular stand-alone work in the chamber music repertoire. It commences in a brisk, passionate mode which returns following an affettuoso interlude. Tonight, violinist Ani Kavafian and pianist Alessio Bax brought great energy to the opening paragraph, subsiding to a gently rhapsodic state in the calm of the central section before setting up a spirited drive to the finish.

Violist Yura Lee and cellist Paul Watkins then joined Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Bax for the Fauré. A unison string theme opens the quartet, with the entrance of the piano filling out the sonic texture that will keep us enchanted for the next half-hour. Ms. Lee’s wonderfully sensitive playing – a hallmark of the evening – meshed lyrically with the sweetness of Ms. Kavafian’s violin, the quiet rapture of Mr. Watkins’ cello, and the elegant romance of Mr. Bax’s phrasing from the Steinway. The music veers briefly to the dramatic before subsiding into a cushioning warmth from viola and cello whilst the violin wafts on high.

Plucking strings and a rolling theme from Mr. Bax open the second movement. Later, the piano comments ironically as the strings try to revive the first movement’s main theme in a rather off-kilter manner; the music slows, and then steals away.

In the Adagio third movement, Yura Lee’s dreamy playing had a transportive quality; Fauré’s student Charles Koechlin has written that “…the viola would have to be invented for this Adagio if it did not already exist…”, and Ms. Lee’s playing underlined the truth of that notion. Moving forward, violin and piano achieve a lovely blend and the music begins to turn passionate; Fauré manages a balance of intensity and calm in this movement that is quite unique.

A darker and somewhat turbulent mood is created at the start of the quartet’s concluding Allegro molto: Ms. Lee and Mr. Watkins sing a deep theme together before a more lilting quality begins to rise. Mr. Bax commences a dance, drawing the string players in with his rhythmic emphasis as the music builds and dances on to an exuberant end.

Following the interval, the performance of the Brahms second quartet was somewhat compromised by the high-pitched sound of a faltering hearing-aid battery. After the quartet’s first movement, Ms. Kavafian asked the audience if they were hearing it too, and several people replied in the affirmative. The players took a moment to gather their concentration before proceeding. Annoying as such disruptive sounds are to the audience, it must be doubly difficult to play in such circumstances as the musicians are always listening for one another and the extraneous sound must be particularly jarring. They played on, admirably, and the noise seemed to subside as the performance evolved.

It was in the Brahms quartet that Mr. Bax seized upon the prominence the composer assigned to the piano’s role and delighted us with truly gorgeous playing; my notes are full of little stars and exclamation marks, and scrawls of “Bax…Bax…Bax!”

Rhythmic distinctiveness marks the first movement, the four players ever-alert to nuance as cello and violin each have a passage of stepping forward. And then, it’s in the Adagio that we get to the heart of the matter: commencing as a lullaby, the piano’s tranquil, song-like theme was an outstanding Bax passage. The string voices murmur deeply and the piano replies; passions ebb and flow, and the strings unite in a brief trio. Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Watkins play in unison, leading to the development of a big song from which the violinist eventually shimmers upward; a hushed coda aptly rounds out this Adagio dream.

A simple song opens the Scherzo, which moves on thru various permutations. A transition to a more energetic passage leads to more animated playing, with a Hungarian lilt. This gypsy colouring extends into the quartet’s concluding Allegro, with Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Bax leading the way. The folksy dance motifs, however, are tempered by an unhurried feeling. The music becomes almost gentle at times, before a final build-up.

We emerged into the cold chill of impending February, jolted back to the realities of life. Now – more than ever – we will seek solace in great music, art, poetry, and dance, looking to concert halls and museums as sanctuaries of reason and compassion.
- Brahms Scherzo, WoO 2, from “F-A-E” Sonata for Violin and Piano (1853)
- Fauré Quartet No. 2 in G minor for Piano, Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 45 (1885-86)
- Brahms Quartet No. 2 in A major for Piano, Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 26 (1861)
January 29, 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
Clarinet Trios @ Chamber Music Society
Tuesday January 24th, 2017 – Cellist Alisa Weilerstein, clarinetist Anthony McGill, and pianist Inon Barnatan sharing the Alice Tully Hall stage in a program of piano trios presented by Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Beloved works by Beethoven and Brahms book-ended the New York premiere of Short Stories for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano by Joseph Hallman. The presence of three such superb artists on the program signaled this as a red-letter event in the current season; I’d been looking forward to this evening for months, and it truly surpassed expectations.

The three artists took the stage, Ms. Weilerstein in a beautiful deep violet gown, and launched the Beethoven Trio for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano, opus 11; it quickly became evident that we were in for a night of exceptional music-making. In this particular work, exuberance and delicacy alternate in perfect measure, and the three players relished both the propulsive passages and – most enticingly – those moments when nuance is all.

One of Beethoven’s early masterpieces, this clarinet trio shows the influence of Haydn and Mozart; but once can clearly sense that Beethoven is already finding his own voice. The writing for the three instruments is often conversational, and how lovingly our three musicians this evening spoke to one another.

The opening Allegro con brio is alive with rhythmic delights, including a touch of syncopated witticism. Mr. Barnatan’s scintillating agility was a constant attraction, and it was a great pleasure to watch the communication between the three players.

Ms. Weilerstein opened the Adagio with a cello theme; her heartfelt playing took this simple, straight-forward melody to the heights. She and Mr. McGill duetted tenderly, both playing with great subtlety. The music becomes achingly gorgeous.

Good humor abounds in the Theme and variations setting of the finale: drawing on an aria wildly popular at the time, “Pria ch’io l’impegno” (“Before I begin, I must eat”) from Joseph Weigl’s opera L’AMOR MARINARO, Beethoven sets up bravura hurdles for the three musicians, all of them joyously over-leapt by our intrepid trio. Mr. Barnatan revels in the cascading piano passages, peaking in a perfect cadenza which ends with king-sized trills. Meanwhile Ms. Weilerstein and Mr. McGill seem to finish each other’s sentences, indulging in an amiable game of “Anything you can play, I can play finer!” Again, the sense of camaraderie, and of the players’ anticipation of the sheer pleasure of playing the next phrase, kept the audience visually engaged.

Short Stories, the new Hallman work, is a five-movement trio; it might also be called Scenes from a Relationship. One doesn’t, however, need any narrative reference to enjoy this purely as a musical experience, for Mr. Hallman is an excellent craftsman, and a colorist as well. The composer was sitting just a seat away from us; I can only imagine how delighted he must have been to hear his music being played by three such paragons…a veritable dream come true.

The opening movement, the Break-up, gets off to a stuttering start. The cello shivers before going deep and mournful, whilst the clarinet comments on her predicament. Then they switch roles, like a therapist taking over the couch from his patient. They play in unison, and things turn temporarily witty. But the music ends in the depths.

familial memories at a funeral opens with Mr. McGill’s clarinet in a whispering, misterioso mood. After briefly perking up, a pensive quality develops with a repeated two-note motif for the piano. The clarinetist’s astounding breath-control and his sustained beauty of tone throughout the dynamic range keep the audience mesmerized.

back-and-white noir: hardboiled with a heart of gold is the whimsical title of the third story. It begins agitato, developing an off-kilter rhythm. Mr. Barnatan sweeps up to the high register, while the clarinet and cello play a droopy duo. Ms. Weilerstein then descends to her velvety deep range. The music ebbs and flows, both rhythmically and tonally, as the composer explores the coloristic possibilities of the three instruments.

regret is for the weak is a title that hits home. Mr. Hallman here sets up an eerie, hesitant start. The clarinet percolates briefly, then settles into a very quiet mood whilst the cellist plucks; later, the cello trembles while the piano sounds softly. We seem to be in a moody memory, with Mr. Barnatan drawing forth fleeting surges of melody. Ms. Weilerstein and Mr. McGill sing sadly before the pianist dips down to a punctuating low note.

In the path of the curve, Mr. Barnatan sometimes reaches inside the piano to manipulate the sound. The music here is very quiet, until the clarinet starts warbling. Fluttering and swirling motifs sneak in, then the music seems to run down and the cello again deepens. The piece ends in a sustained quietude.

The only slight reservation I had about Short Stories was that the final movement is perhaps a bit too drawn out; my companion felt the same way. It was unfortunate that, during the work’s quiet closing moments, a cellphone went off directly behind us. At the same time, someone in the from row had a violent coughing fit. Such unfortunate timing. Yet despite these distractions, the Short Stories each cast their own spell, and they were spectacularly played.

Following the interval, the Brahms trio (opus 114) found the three artists on the heavenly heights of tonal and technical perfection, their playing so generous and emotive. From Ms. Weilerstein’s sublime playing of the yearning opening theme, thru the plaintive entry of Mr. McGill’s clarinet and the ever-expressive beauty Mr. Barnatan drew from keyboard, the music took on an impassioned glow. In my scrawled notes, the word “gorgeous’ appears over a dozen times.

Mr. McGill’s spellbinding playing of the sweetly serene theme that opens the Adagio was a magical passage, taken up by the soulful spirituality of Ms. Weilerstein’s cello. The luminous qualities of clarinet and cello are set in high relief by the profound tranquillity evoked by Mr. Barnatan. A long-lined clarinet solo leaves one grasping for adjectives to describe the McGill sound, and his ardent tapering of line. One wanted this meditation by the three players to linger on and on.

A questioning clarinet passage and more marvelous phrasing from Mr. Barnatan set up the waltz-like grace of the Andantino. After a brief diversion, we dance on towards the movement’s end; unexpectedly, Brahms tucks in a calming coda to make a lovely finish.

Restraint is cast aside as the trio dig into the concluding Allegro. A tinge of gypsy colour weaves thru this music. Ms. Weilerstein takes up a melody which she passes to Mr. McGill; then they harmonize. Things speed up. “More cello passion!” was my last dashed-off remark; the Brahms sailed on to its joyous conclusion, and the three stellar artists were greeted with immediate shouts of approval. They took a double curtain call, delighting the crowd.

A thought that recurred to me frequently during the evening was: if Mozart had met McGill, Amadeus would have written DIE ZAUBERKLARINETTE.
- Beethoven Trio in B-flat major for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano, Op. 11 (1797)
- Hallman Short Stories for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano (CMS Co-Commission) (New York premiere) (2016)
- Brahms Trio in A minor for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano, Op. 114 (1891)
January 24, 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
Barenboim @ Carnegie: Mozart & Bruckner

Above: Daniel Barenboim and the Staatskapelle Berlin at Carnegie Hall; performance photo by Steve J Sherman

Thursday January 19th, 2017 – The Staatskapalle Berlin in the first of a series of concerts at Carnegie Hall in which Daniel Barenboim appears both as piano soloist and conductor. Each program in the series pairs a Mozart concerto with a Bruckner symphony. Tonight’s was the only performance in the series that I was able to attend, and it proved most valuable as an opportunity to hear not only a great conductor/pianist and orchestra, but also a rare chance to experience Bruckner’s first symphony live.

The evening marked, almost to the day, the 60th anniversary of Daniel Barenboim’s Carnegie Hall debut; on January 20, 1957, he was the piano soloist on a program conducted by Leopold Stokowski. Over the six decades since that momentous night, Maestro Barenboim has maintained his status as a premiere pianist, and has become one of the great conductors of our time.

My personal memories of Barenboim as pianist and as conductor are especially meaningful to me: in November 2008, he and James Levine were the de luxe pianists for a performance of Brahms’ Liebeslieder Waltzes at Weill Hall; the singers were members of the Met Young Artists Program. It was a superbly intimate performance. Shortly after this Liebeslieder evening, Barenboim made his long-awaited debut on the podium at The Met in a splendid series of performances of TRISTAN UND ISOLDE: we went twice, returning for a repeat when Waltraud Meier flew in to rescue one performance and made a striking impression as Isolde.

Above: performance photo by Steve J Sherman

This evening, Maestro Barenboim appeared first as piano soloist for the Mozart Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat Major. From the opening bars, my friend Dmitry and I were struck by how absolutely lovely the orchestra sounded in the Carnegie setting. After the interval, when the much larger contingent of players required by the Bruckner took the stage, the sonic effect remained particularly cordial. It’s a stellar orchestra, and within moments I was regretting that I hadn’t made arrangements to hear them in more concerts from this impressive series.

In 1791, the final year of Mozart’s life, the composer was at a low point. Poor health (his own, and his wife’s) and financial worries bore down on him, and he felt the Viennese musical public had somewhat lost interest in him. At the time he was composing his last piano concerto, #27, he wrote to his wife: “I can’t explain to you how I feel…there’s a kind of emptiness which just hurts me: a kind of longing that is never stilled…” His despair shows thru in the 27th concerto, although light still manages to pierce the clouds often enough. First performed on March 4, 1791, it marked Mozart’s last public appearance as a piano soloist.

With a smallish ensemble – no trumpets, drums, or clarinets – this concerto feels intimate, even in the spaciousness of Carnegie Hall. This impression was sustained by the marvelous subtlety of Maestro Barenboim’s playing, particularly in the cadenzas, where he could fine the tone down to a silken whisper.

In the melody-rich first movement, the orchestra cushioned the piano line to gorgeous effect, with the solo flute and bassoon displaying great finesse. The flautist continued to impress in the Larghetto which follows. Maestro Barenboim’s playing here was beautifully sustained and thoughtful, and an atmosphere of tranquility laced with gentle melancholy settled over the Hall. Barenboim’s exquisite tapering of the final phrase hung on the air, but an enormous, ill-timed sneeze from an audience member destroyed this magical moment.

Pianist and orchestra bounced back from this unfortunate intrusion for a perfect rendering of the concerto’s concluding Allegro; Barenboim’s playing here had ample spirit and polish, and the musicians did him proud. This is a somewhat darker finale than Mozart’s usually wrote for his concerti, but it does feature the melody of a little song Mozart was working on: “Sehnsucht nach dem Frühling” (“Longing for Spring“). By late 1791, the composer was fighting for his life; he never saw another Spring, dying on December 5th and thus sadly depriving the world of three or four more decades-worth of magnificent music.

Above: performance photo by Steve J Sherman

Anton Bruckner’s 1st symphony languished in obscurity for over twenty years. Following a single performance in Linz, Austria, in 1868, it was not heard again until 1891 when it was given in a heavily revised version. Its Carnegie Hall premiere didn’t take place – incredibly enough – until 1985, and performances of it remain comparatively rare. After hearing tonight’s excellent performance, I feel its neglect is unjustified; in fact, I look forward to hearing it again…the sooner, the better.

Maestro Barenboim’s fondness for this music was evident from start to finish, and the Staatskapelle Berlin gave it a performance by turns lush, subtle, and vigorous. How thrilling to hear (and watch) the orchestra’s eight double-basses playing in unison; and the timpanist was having a field day – I was mesmerized by him throughout the third and fourth movements.

A march-like cadence sets the opening Allegro on its way; starting almost whimsically, this soon becomes more emphatic. A lull comes as the woodwinds gently introduce a free-flowing violin melody. Suddenly the trombones take control with a mighty fanfare. Distant thunder from the timpani, and the march motif resumes; the movement carries on with an ebb and flow of what feel like climaxes but which subside just short of peaking. Then, after a final rush, we come to an abrupt end. The players’ keen response to Barenboim’s often understated gestures spoke of the natural affinity the maestro and the musicians have established over the years.

The orchestra’s playing of the Adagio was especially moving. This music builds cinematically to a glorious climax, then evaporates into the heavens in an inspired and inspiring coda. Maintaining a perfect balance between the layered voices, Barenboim again showed that this music is in his very blood.

The lively Scherzo is particularly engaging: it has the feel of a tribal dance – by turns throbbing and evocative – reminding me a bit of the well-known Scherzo from the Dvořák 6th. The whirlwind subsides for a gentle interlude before the dance springs up again, stomping on to a quick stop.

Only in the final movement did I feel Bruckner might have been losing his grip somewhat. The music here did not have a cohesive feeling; the structure felt somewhat lacking in tautness, with a couple of walkabouts stemming the flow of the piece. Nevertheless, it was played with utter commitment and a sense of triumph at the close.

Aside from the sneeze, a late seating after the piano concerto’s first movement caused an unfortunate break in my concentration. The spectacular performance of the Bruckner helped to set these distractions aside, with Maestro Barenboim and his orchestra basking in a grand ovation at the end of a wonderful evening of music-making.

January 21, 2017