Category: Music

First Voice

Above: tenor Barry Morell

Opera lovers: who among you can remember the very first voice you heard in a live opera performance? I’m not talking about recordings, broadcasts, telecasts, or DVDs, but actually being there.

For me it was tenor Barry Morell, singing the Duke of Mantua in a performance of RIGOLETTO at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera in 1962.

I don’t have an MP3 of Barry Morell as the Duke, but here he is in the passionate aria of Maurizio from ADRIANA LECOUVREUR; his voice is warm, with a nice Italianate ring to it:

Barry Morell – La dolcissima effigie – ADRIANA LECOUVREUR

By 1962, Barry Morell was well-established at The Met, having debuted there in 1958 as Pinkerton in MADAMA BUTTERFLY opposite the Cio-Cio-San of Victoria de los Angeles. In the ensuing years, he sang more than 250 performances with The Met, in New York City and on tour. His co-stars were some of the Met’s reigning divas: his first Tosca was Licia Albanese, his first MImi was Renata Tebaldi, and in his first Met Duke of Mantua, Elisabeth Söderström sang Gilda.

After that initial RIGOLETTO at Cincinnati, we returned for two more Summers, seeing Barry Morell as Alfredo in TRAVIATA (Albanese was singing her 100th Violetta that night) and as des Grieux in Massenet’s MANON, with Adriana Maliponte singing the title-role.

On November 26, 1965, Licia Albanese sang her last Madama Butterfly at The Met; Barry Morell was her Pinkerton. I was there.

In the Summer of 1966, we went up to Saratoga where the Philadelphia Orchestra was giving FLEDERMAUS in concert, conducted by Eugene Ormandy. Barry Morell was Alfredo, with Hilde Gueden (Rosalinda), Roberta Peters (Adele), and Kitty Carlisle (Prince Orlofsky).

Soon after that FLEDERMAUS, I made made first solo trip to New York City to join the first ticket line for the opening season at the New Met. Among the performances I saw in the first season or two at the Lincoln Center venue were TRAVIATA in which Barry Morell’s Violetta was Anna Moffo, and a BOHEME with Morell and Tebaldi.

Barry Morell sang at The Met until 1979; he passed away in 2003.

~ Oberon

December 21, 2018
Met Opera All-Stars

Helping Placido Domingo celebrate the 50th anniversary of his Met debut, four great stars who sang with him often came backstage to greet the “tenoritone” after his prima of GIANNI SCHICCHI. Above: Sherrill Milnes, Martina Arroyo, Placi, Teresa Stratas, and James Morris in a Met Opera photo.

Having already seen him several times at New York City Opera, I was at Placido Domingo’s Met debut – the night he stepped in (on very short notice) for Franco Corelli – as Maurizio in Cilea’s ADRIANA LECOUVREUR:

My fondest memory of that evening was of Renata Tebaldi, as Adriana, turning her back on the audience so that Placi could look over her shoulder to watch conductor Fausto Cleva during his Act I aria, “La dolcissima effigie“. During the ensuing ovation, Renata kept patting Domingo’s shoulder and saying “bravo! bravo!” They went on to be good colleagues and friends:

While that ADRIANA was Domingo’s first performance from the Met stage, he had sung a single concert performance of CAV & PAG with the Company at Lewisohn Stadium in August, 1966:

Metropolitan Opera @ Lewisohn Stadium August 9th, 1966 In Concert
CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA Mascagni Santuzza................Irene Dalis Turiddu.................Plácido Domingo [First appearance] Lola....................Joann Grillo Alfio...................Russell Christopher Mamma Lucia.............Carlotta Ordassy
Conductor...............Kurt Adler

Sherrill Milnes had made his Met debut during the final season at the Old Met (in the same performance of FAUST that Montserrat Caballé made hers); Martina Arroyo and Teresa Stratas had already established themselves at the Old Met by the time the Company moved to Lincoln Center. James Morris made his Met debut in 1971, and I saw him there in one of his very first performances, as Raimondo in a student matinee of LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR.

Now let’s hear from each singer in the “reunion” photo at the top:

Martina Arroyo – Ritorna vincitor! – AIDA – Buenos Aires 1968

GHOSTS OF VERSAILLES ~ final scene – Teresa Stratas & Hector Vasquez – Met bcast 1995

James Morris – RHEINGOLD ~ Abendlich Strahlt Die Sonne – w M Lipovsek

Sherrill Milnes joins Domingo on the final note of their OTELLO duet…such an exciting moment:

Domingo & Milnes – OTELLO duet – Met bcast – 2~2~85

To finish this reminiscence, here’s Domingo in a opera The Met could/should have staged for him, Meyerbeer’s L’AFRICAINE:

Placido Domingo – O Paradis! – L’AFRICAINE

~ Oberon

November 29, 2018
Seven Gates of Jerusalem

Above: the sheep market at the Herod Gate, Jerusalem, c. 1900

~ Author: Oberon

Among the many documentaries I watched during those long, humid afternoons of the summer of 2018 was one about the ancient city of Jerusalem. Watching it, and learning about the legendary seven gates of the city, put me in mind of Krzystof Penderecki’s seventh symphony, which is almost always referred to as SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM. This oratorio-like work premiered in 1997 at the State Hall in Jerusalem in a performance conducted by Loren Maazel.

In 1998, having lived in New York City for less than four months, I decided to attend a performance of the Penderecki work; I was mainly attracted by the listing of Christine Goerke and Florence Quivar among the vocal soloists. At this point in time, I had probably attended fewer than two-dozen performances of symphonic music in my opera-specific lifetime, and with few exceptions those were programs featuring vocal works. I don’t think I’d ever heard a note of Penderecki’s music prior to this concert:

This was actually the US premiere of SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM, and I was completely bowled over by it. From my opera diary:

“This exciting piece was brilliantly played by the Philharmonic, joined by the excellent Philadelphia Singers, some of whom were positioned in the boxes along the sides of the hall. Masur crafted the massive forces – including a large percussion section – into a cohesive and powerful whole. The work is short (one hour) and cries out for expansion [which the program note indicated might be forthcoming].

Stretches of lyricism, including a gorgeous horn solo, alternated with pageant-like passages; the orchestration dazzles, with a solo bass trumpet positioned in the auditorium. Striking rhythmic patterns abound, and the chorus has much to do – from near-whispers to full-cry.

Of the soloists, Christine Goerke dominated, with her glowingly strong middle register and wildfire forays to the top. Florance Quivar was her usual magnificent self, making me wish she’d had even more to sing. Tenor Jon Villars displayed both power and tonal appeal. Wendy Nielsen and William Stone had briefer parts, but were nonetheless impressive. In a spoken role, Boris Carmeli made a chilling dramatic effect.

The total impact of the work was splendid; and was greeted by an enthusiastic standing ovation. When Penderecki joined the players onstage, the applause re-doubled.”

Above: Krzystof Penderecki

Flashing forward twenty years, I watched a terrific DVD of the symphony – watched it once, and then immediately straight thru again. Although I rarely buy CDs any more, I did purchase a recording of this work in an excellent performance conducted by Kazimierz Kord and featuring the distinctive voice of contralto Jadwiga Rappé.

The importance of Boris Carmeli’s contribution to this work can’t be over-emphasized: the basso’s speaking voice is eerie and quite unique. Mr. Carmeli passed away in 2009. Of Italian heritage but born in Poland, he took part in almost every listed production of the SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM up until his death. In both the CD and DVD recordings mentioned above, he makes an incredible, unforgettable impression.

Above: Pope John Paul II greets Boris Carmeli and Krzystof Penderecki

Among the countless inventive, evocative sounds one hears in the course of SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM is that of the tubaphone. This tuned percussion instrument can be made of metal or plastic pipes (Penderecki calls for plastic) which are cut to various lengths, each producing a different tone. In the DVD I watched, this instrument is set upright, with the player hammering on the ends of the pipes with a mallet to get the desired effect. It is used extensively in the ‘scherzo‘ of SEVEN GATES, Lauda, Jerusalem, Dominum.

Now my great hope is that I might have an opportunity to experience this thrilling work in a live performance once again, in my lifetime.

~ Oberon

November 22, 2018
Cecil Coles, Composer

The name Cecil Coles was completely unknown to me when, at a recent Musica Viva NY concert, one of his works, Cortège, was performed as an organ solo. This sent me on a search for more information about the composer, who served in the Great War and who was killed by a sniper while on active duty in France, in April of 1918.

Born in Scotland, Coles became an assistant conductor at the Stuttgart Opera, and was the organist at St. Katherine’s Church in that city. At the onset of the Great War, he signed up immediately and joined the Queen’s Victoria Rifles, serving as the regimental band-leader. Coles did not let the war stall his composing career; during his time at the Western Front, he would send his manuscripts back to his friend, composer Gustav Holst, in England.

There’s a wonderful page about Cecil Coles on the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra’s website here. Conductor Martyn Brabbins talks about the many Coles compositions that languished, forgotten, for decades, and of his own efforts in orchestrating some of them.

British mezzo-soprano Fiona Kimm sings one of Cecil Coles’ most beautiful songs, A Benediction:

Fiona Kimm – Cecil Coles ~ A Benediction

Cecil Coles is buried at the Crouy British Cemetery in France.

~ Oberon

November 20, 2018
Maxim Vengerov @ Carnegie Hall

Above: violinist Maxim Vengerov

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday October 30th, 2018 – Three wonderfully contrasted violin sonatas were on offer tonight at Carnegie Hall as the renowned Maxim Vengerov took the stage, joined by the excellent Roustem Saïtkoulov at the Steinway.

About ten years ago, Mr. Vengerov – as most classical music-lovers know – developed a mysterious arm/shoulder ailment that took nearly four years to diagnose and treat. He returned to the stage in 2012, and I first heard him live in 2015, playing the Tchaikovsky violin concerto with the New York Philharmonic. It was a thrilling performance, and tonight I was very excited to be hearing him again. In the grand and glorious setting of Carnegie Hall tonight, Mssrs. Vengerov and Saïtkoulov made a most congenial collaboration, to the great benefit of the music they’d chosen, and to the great delight of the audience.

Johannes Brahms’ Violin Sonata No. 3 in D-Minor is in four movements rather than the more usual three. It opens with an achingly romantic lyrical theme, aglow with passionate colours. The Vengerov/Saïtkoulov partnership brought a lot of nuance to the music, with a lovely dynamic palette and finely dovetailed modulations. In a heartfelt piano passage, Mr. Saïtkoulov’s playing moved me. An intoxicating, soulful finish seemed to entrance the audience.

The Adagio commences with a wistful melody, sublimely tailored; the players’ astute attention to dynamics again kept up their intriguing effect. The familiar descending theme of this movement brought a feeling of plushy, Olde World magic, but then a dropped program booklet and a cellphone intrusion ruined the ending.

Rhythmic vitality, and some charming plucking motifs, adorned the Scherzo, which has a somewhat sentimental quality: no mere jesting here.

Then players immediately launched the concluding Presto agitato, full of great swirls of notes and a rich mix of colours. Syncopations are at work here; the music builds and subsides, and then re-bounds in a rush to the finish. Prolonged applause, but the players did not come out for a bow.

George Enescu wrote his Violin Sonata No. 2 in F-Minor at the age of seventeen, reportedly in the space of a fortnight. Mssrs. Vengerov and Saïtkoulov play in unison for the sonata’s rather mysterious start. Turbulence is stirred up, but reverts to the unison motif. The piano then shimmers as the violin sings above with rising passion. Vengerov and Saïtkoulov both demonstrated great control of dynamics as the music took on a restless quality. They play in unison again, moving to a quiet finish.

A sad song opens the second movement, marked Tranquillement, pervaded by a strangely lovely feeling of melancholy. Again Mr. Vengerov displays pinpoint control of line in an affecting soft theme that rises to an exquisite sustained note. There’s a darkish quality from the piano as the violin is plucked. Then: a sudden stop. The music resumes – so quietly – with a shivering violin tremolo. The ending is simply gorgeous.

The concluding movement, marked simply Vif (“Lively”), starts off all wit and sparkle; both musicians savor the animation, tossing in wry soft notes from time to time. The music turns briefly grand, then softens, and the liveliness resumes. The players are on the verge of exceeding the speed limit when they suddenly veer into an unexpected ‘romance’. But wit prevails in the end.

Above: pianist Roustem Saïtkoulov

Maurice Ravel’s Violin Sonata was premiered in Paris on May 30, 1927, with none other than George Enescu as violin soloist, and Ravel himself at the piano. The opening Allegretto starts quietly, with a piano theme that is taken up by the violin. Mr. Vengerov sweetens his tone here, making the most of the melodic possibilities. The violin trembles over a shadowy piano passage, and then a transportive lyricism builds, with the violin rising and lingering. A heavenly conclusion: sustained violin tone over a shimmering piano.

To open the Blues: Moderato, the violinist plucks in altering soft and emphatic notes. The piano sounds rather glum at first, then starts pulsing persuasively as the violin gets jazzy, bending the phrases enticingly.

From a gentle start, the Perpetuum mobile finale lives up to its name. The piano goes scurrying along, and Mr. Vengerov turns into a speed demon. The music rocks along – Rhapsody in Blue and Fascinatin’ Rhythm are evoked briefly – with the violinist verging on manic whilst Mr. Saïtkoulov’s playing stays light and luminous.

The concluding works on the printed program both felt very much like encores: Heinrich Ernst’s decorative incarnation of The Last Rose of Summer and Nicolo Paganini’s super-elaborate take on the great aria Di tanti palpiti from Rossini’s TANCREDI (arranged by Fritz Kreisler) each had an “everything-but-the-kitchen-sink” feeling. Mr. Vengerov managed the fireworks well, drawing a celebratory audience response. My feeling was that one or the other of these two virtuoso pieces would have sufficed.

As an encore, Fritz Kreisler’s Caprice Viennois was beautifully played. The audience then began streaming out. We were in the lobby when we heard a second encore commencing; but it was too late to double back.

~ Oberon

October 30, 2018
Weilerstein|Bychkov ~ All-Dvořák @ Carnegie Hall

Above: cellist Alisa Weilerstein

Author: Ben Weaver

Saturday October 27th, 2018 – The Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, under the direction of its chief conductor and music director Semyon Bychkov, rolled into Carnegie Hall on Saturday, October 27th for a two-concert visit. The first concert was an all-Dvořák program which featured two of the composer’s greatest works: the Cello Concerto (with soloist Alisa Weilerstein) and Symphony No. 7.

Dvořák’s Cello Concerto was composed in New York City in 1894-95. Dvořák had long-held reservations about a concerto for the instrument: an early effort to write one in 1865 was left unfinished and lost until 1925; attempts by scholars to reconstruct it for performance have met with mixed results. But Dvořák was so impressed by a New York Philharmonic performance of Victor Herbert’s Cello Concerto No. 2 that he decided to try again. (Herbert, a highly successful composer of operettas in his own right, was principal cellist of the NY Philharmonic.) The resulting cello concerto by Dvořák, in the key of B minor, is arguably the greatest one of all. Brahms, for example, exclaimed: “Why on earth didn’t I know that a person could write a violoncello concerto like this? If I had only known, I would have written one long ago.”

The opening Allegro begins with a mournful clarinet solo, a melody that reappears throughout the movement – and returns in the second half of the final movement. The cello enters playing the same melody, though in a different key. Alisa Weilerstein is one of the finest cellists in the world today and she held the audience spellbound with her passionate, emotionally generous and technically precise playing. With Maestro Bychkov, and an orchestra that has Dvořák in their bones, this was a performance from all that could not be improved. (Special recognition for the magnificent, soulful horn solo playing by, I assume from the roster, Kateřina Javůrková.) The lovely second movement, Adagio, contains Dvořák’s tribute to his dying sister-in-law Josefina (with whom he was secretly in love). He revised the finale of the concerto after returning to Prague and learning that Josefina had died. Dvořák inserted a melancholy section right before the end of the work. He wrote to the publisher: “The finale closes gradually, diminuendo – like a breath…”

The audience greeted Ms. Weilerstein’s performance with a warm standing ovation. Weilerstein’s control of the instrument is superb. She manages to produce a million colors of sound, the rich and warm tone of her cello glows. The audience kept calling her to return, no doubt hoping for an encore. Alas, not on this night. But it’s hard to top perfection anyway.

After the intermission the orchestra performed what many consider to be Dvořák’s finest symphony, No. 7, commissioned by the London Philharmonic Society in 1884. Dvořák himself conducted the premiere in 1885. The symphony opens with a sinister theme from the lower strings. This melody, and the dark mood, dominate the movement and haunt the rest of the symphony. No. 7 has a reputation as Dvořák’s tragic work and many conductors emphasize the darkness. But maestro Bychkov and the orchestra find more nuance here. Despite the somber mood of the opening movement there is plenty of humor too, including a lively Scherzo that could have been rejected from Dvořák’s Slavonic Dances. It is a truly great Symphony, even if has not gained the popularity of Symphonies Nos. 8 and 9. And the Czech Philharmonic plays it better than anyone.

The glowing strings, warm brass (no barking here), and the obvious love they have for this music are incomparable. Although most great orchestras can play everything well, there is something to be said for orchestras of a composer’s native land taking precedence in how their music can and should sound. Russians play Tchaikovsky better than anyone, Czech musicians do it with with Dvořák and Janáček, the French play French in ways most others simply don’t, an Italian voice can do things with a Verdi line that no one else can, etc. It’s not just about all the notes being played – any decent orchestra can do that – it’s about how the musicians feel about those notes. And this great orchestra clearly feels Dvořák’s music in a singular way. It’s not just love for the music, it’s pride in the music. It is impossible to replicate anywhere else.

You could hear and feel this uniqueness tonight, especially in the two encores: two Slavonic Dances, the lilting Starodávný (Op. 72, No. 2; surely one of Dvořák’s most memorable melodies) and the thrilling Furiant (Op. 46, No. 8). If you didn’t sway or tap along to this music, if you didn’t sing it to yourself, you weren’t doing it right.

~ Ben Weaver

October 28, 2018
Percussion and Piano @ Carnegie

~Author: Scoresby

Friday October 26 2018 – As the first concert in her six-part Perspectives residency at Carnegie Hall, Yuja Wang decided to do a thought-provoking collaboration with percussionists. It is great that instead of playing standard repertoire, Ms. Wang is using her platform to push her audience into more unfamiliar repertoire, such as her recital in Carnegie last season and this performance. Here, she was working with some of the all-stars of the percussion world: Martin Grubinger, his father Martin Grubinger Sr, Alexander Georgiev, and Leonhard Schmidinger for an incredibly fun evening. Unfortunately, the performance was billed as “Yuja Wang, piano and Martin Grubinger, percussion” with the other percussionists relegated to small lettering. The program didn’t even mention which percussionists played on which of the works. Oddly, no instrumentation was given for each work, instead just “piano and percussion”, despite a litany of different percussion instruments used. Nonetheless, Ms. Wang and Mr. Grubinger did give credit to their colleagues and this truly was a collaborative performance between all five musicians.

Above: In the throes of the Bartók (from left to right): Leonhard Schmidinger, Alexander Georgiev, Yuja Wang, Martin Grubinger Sr, and Martin Grubinger; Photo Credit: Chris Lee

The program began with Bartók’s Sonata for Two Piano and Percussion arranged for one piano and percussion by Martin Grubinger Sr. This was the most successful of the arrangements of the evening. Along with the Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta, this is Bartók at his most avant-garde with many references to jazz, interesting instrumentation, and spiky melodies. The biggest change to the score in this arrangement was splitting one of the piano parts into two marimbas played by exceptionally like one instrument by Mr. Grubinger and Mr. Georgiev – their coordination was almost surreal. The traditional percussion was played by Mr. Schmidinger and Mr. Grubinger Sr. The impact that this changed the entire timbre of the piece, becoming less incisive in a way but far more colorful. In a way it made the music sound even more avantgarde. In the mysterious opening chords after the rumbling timpani played by Martin Grubinger Sr, the aggressive playing of Ms. Wang was contrasted with the light tremolos on the marimba.

With two pianos this texture sounds more like an attack, but the woodiness of the marimbas added a lighter atmosphere and made Ms. Wang’s piano seem more percussive. It was a brilliant play to highlight the piano playing while improving the music making. Ms. Wang for her part seemed to naturally get the score switching from whacking chords for emphasize to lyrical furtive blending into the ensemble. In the second movement, Bartók employs his night music in a classic tenary form. Ms. Wang’s evocative playing here with the military-esque sound of the percussion and softness of the Marimbas worked well in tandem to produce an unusual Messiaen-like ethereal sound.

Mr. Grubinger and Mr. Georgiev exchanged more and more agitated lines with Ms. Wang leading into the virtuosic agitato with ripples of arpeggios punctuated by chords. Ms. Wang silvery sound moved through the dead hits of percussion, a dialogue less apparent in the original score. The group whipped its way through the Stravinsky-esque finale capturing a raw energy.

The sold-out crowd seemed somewhat confused by the music, perhaps a little too avant-garde for their taste – but to me it was thrilling. Luckily for most of the crowd the group came back onstage to play Martin Grubinger Sr.’s arrangement of John Psathas’s Etude from One Study for three percussionists and piano. This work is a virtuosic piece that riffs through a bunch different sequences and Mr. Grubinger Sr. made sure that each instrument got its own fun solo to show off. It was the perfect piece for some levity after the serious Bartók and genuinely sounded more in the idiom of a rock concert by the end of the etude, causing the crowd to roar with applause.

The second half of the program began with another Martin Grubinger Sr. Arrangement: this time of The Rite of Spring for one piano and three percussionists. Mr. Grubinger Sr.’s arrangement of this was magical, using elements of the two piano and one piano versions of the piece combined with marimba, vibraphone, chimes along with Stravinsky’s percussion of timpani, woodblock, washboard etc… to produce a completely unique sound that still paid homage to the original. It is incredibly unfortunate that the Stravinsky Estate decided a few weeks before this tour to ban this group from performing the work anywhere in which the copyright of the piece is still in effect (US being the only place where it is lifted), so this ended up being the second and last performance of the tour.

The group after the final applause (left to right): Martin Grubinger, Leonhard Schmidinger, Alexander Georgiev, Yuja Wang, and Martin Grubinger Sr.

The opening was flush with color using the vibraphone as the bassoon mixed with humming tremolos from the piano and marimba to slowly build into the percussive attacks of the Augurs of Spring. The explosive last few movements such as the Ritual of the Rival Tribes and the Dance of the Earth of the first part were where this arrangement really shined, sounding at once razor-sharp and still managing to capture Stravinsky’s innovative instrumentation. In the introduction to Part II, the primordial timbres were still achieved by Mr. Georgiev bowing the vibraphone (and perhaps bowed glass too?) producing an eerie metallic sound mixed with the light woody marimba of Mr. Grubinger and a base structure of Ms. Wang’s piano playing the string part of the score.

After those first two movements of Part II, the balance seemed quite off with the percussion absorbing all of Ms. Wang’s sound. Nonetheless, all four performances gave a virtuosic and energized performance. Interestingly, the percussion seemed less precise than Ms. Wang’s piano, particularly in the final section of the piece during the complicated rhythmic playing. The percussion chosen wasn’t able to stop its vibration quick enough, so some of the crisp beats sounded muddier from the bleeding sound. Still, the group seemed in perfect sync with one another, this was true ensemble playing.

To end the performance (personally it seemed odd to me to have anything after The Rite, given how climactic it is already), the group played Mr. Grubinger Sr.’s arrangement of Leticia Gómez-Tagle’s solo piano arrangement the popular orchestral work by Arturo Márquez Danzon No. 2. This poppy but fun piece was thoroughly enjoyable if a little light after The Rite. Ms. Wang seemed to really dig into the opening tango and enjoy the many different Latin American rhythms that come as the piece develops. The group did a good job keeping this fun and energized. After a thunderous applause Ms. Wang and Mr. Grubinger gave an encore of the two of them playing Jesse Sieff’s Chopstankovich, which essentially a virtuosic snare drum part added to Shostakovich String Quartet’s No. 8’s intense second movement (in this case, the string part performed by Ms. Wang on piano). It was a fun little encore to cap the evening’s eccentric program. It was a wonderful collaborative program that broke the more staid conservative environment with some of the best musicians around.

— Scoresby

October 28, 2018
Ensemble Connect @ Weill Hall

Above: composer Gabriella Smith

~ Author: Brad S Ross

Monday October 22nd, 2018 – It was a cold night in New York City—one of those now all-too-often days where summer seems to have skipped fall entirely and moved straight into winter. Respite could be found for the audience at the Weill Recital Hall in Carnegie Hall, however, where the immensely talented players Ensemble Connect brought some much-needed warmth to a small percentage of classical music lovers.

Ensemble Connect is a two-year fellowship program with Carnegie Hall that comprises some of the finest young players in the United States. These musicians hail from some of the nation’s top music schools, including, as the program noted, the Curtis Institute of Music, the Juilliard School, the Peabody Institute, and the University of Southern California, among others. Indeed, there was not one sour note or poorly delivered phrase of the entire evening.

The concert began with György Ligeti’s Six Bagatelles for Wind Quartet—a set of six short movements adapted from his larger piano work Musica ricercata. Written in 1953 while the composer lived in Communist Hungary, the piece is a texturally rich and rhythmically adventurous foretaste of the polyphonic styles for which he would later come to fame with such works as Atmosphères and Lux aeterna. Six Bagatelles opens on an amusing Allegro con spirito followed by an attractively dissonant Rubato: Lamentoso, a warm and pulsing Allegro grazioso, a spirited Presto ruvido, a richly mysterious Adagio: Mesto (written in memoriam of the composer Béla Bartók), and an energetic Molto vivace that cheekily concludes the work. Performed with precision and zest by the members of Ensemble Connect, it was a delightful demonstration of mature musical humor—a rare quality in classical music.

Next was the New York premiere Anthozoa, a 2018 Ensemble Connect commission written for violin, cello, piano, and percussion by the young American composer Gabriella Smith. Anthozoa, as Smith explained in a brief pre-performance talk, was inspired by recordings that the composer made while scuba diving of sea life (its unique title derives from a class of marine invertebrates that encompasses corals and sea anemones). It opened on a colorful percussion solo that is quickly joined by prepared piano, sliding pizzicato cello, and unpitched strikes on the violin. Lengthy and propulsive soundscapes shifted throughout its twelve-minute duration revealing at times otherworldly sonorities. Dramatic piano chords gradually emerged underneath a rushing full-ensemble crescendo before receding into a somber, elegiac diminuendo that faded to a silent finale. Extended technique abounded in Anthozoa, which was as much fun to watch as it was to hear, and Smith received a well-earned ovation—perhaps the longest of the evening—before the concert paused for intermission. It’s a colorful and invigorating new work, one that will hopefully find many more performances in the future.

Above: composer Kaija Saariaho, photographed by Maarit Kytöharju

Following intermission was Light and Matter for violin, cello, and piano by the Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho. Saariaho, who by now must be counted among the finest composers alive, more than lived up to her reputation here as a master of the craft. Written during the autumn of 2014, Light and Matter was conceived, as the composer put it, “while watching from my window the changing light and colors of Morningside Park.” Menacing pulses open from the lower registers of the piano and cello before being joined by a belated violin. Once combined, they exchange a series of vivid textures and haunting atmospheres that cast a hypnotic spell for the piece’s twelve-minute duration. This aptly complimented the October evening of its performance.

The most warmth was brought to the proceedings with the final piece of the night, Johannes Brahms’s Clarinet Trio in A-minor. Composed in 1891, the trio marked Brahms’s return to composition after he considering retiring one year before. This is owed to his admiration of the clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld, whom Brahms regarded as “a master of his instrument.” Clarinetists may be forever grateful of this relationship, which also led to the composition of his Clarinet Quintet in 1891 and two Clarinet Sonatas in 1894. The Clarinet Trio, cast in four movements over approximately twenty-four minutes, comprises an inviting Allegro, a wistful Adagio, a buoyant Andantino grazioso, and an upbeat Allegro that sings the work to its final minor chord. The trio’s sweeping musical gestures and warm consonances were the very apex of Romanticism; this, combined with the relative coziness of the Weill Recital Hall, made for a sumptuous conclusion before players and audience retired into the chilly night air.

All of the musicians performed with the seemingly effortless mastery we’ve come to expect from such things, though it’s easy to forget sometimes just how much work and dedication got them there. Each deserves a mention, and to this end I will oblige; they were the hornist Wilden Dannenberg, the cellist Ari Evan, the pianist Tomer Gerwirtzman, the percussionist Sae Hashimoto, the violinist Jennifer Liu, the clarinetist Noémi Sallai, the flautist Leo Sussman, the oboist Tamara Winston, and the bassoonist Yen-Chen Wu. All should be cherished for their well-honed talents and can hopefully anticipate bright careers ahead.

~ Brad S Ross

October 26, 2018
Salon Seánce @ Tarisio

~Author: Scoresby

Thursday October 19 2018 – After the many concerts I’ve reviewed in the past week or so that had theatrical elements, ranging from the NY Philharmonic’s MUTED to Berlioz’s Lélio, it was satisfying to hear a performance that finally seemed to strike the rare balance between excellent music and intellectually interesting theater. Salon Séance, co-founded by siblings violinist Mari Lee (an ensemble connect Alumnus) and Simon Lee (who provided the research for the work), performed its unusual structure in the show room of the string instrument auction house Tarisio with electric candles all over the stage and a backdrop of 50 or so rare instruments. Essentially, this performance consisted of full pieces of music by a specific composer being played, punctuated with short theatrical monologues that illuminate context in which those pieces were composed while threading a common theme through it all. The theme of this concert about Britten and Auden was addressing the question “How Do I live in a Broken World?”

Above Ms. Valla leading the musicians in contacting Britten’s spirit; photo credit: Rodrigo Aranjuelo

In the opening, actress Sagine Valla was alone as the five musicians walked toward the stage speaking to her. Because of this unusual setup there was none of the traditional clapping as the musicians entered, a welcome relief from the usual program. After a bit of awkward dialogue, the performance became interesting when the musicians and Ms. Valla gathered in a circle to summon the spirit of Benjamin Britten. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she suggested for the musicians to play something to rouse Britten. The quartet then launched into the first movement of his String Quartet No. 1, Op. 25 played by fantastic chamber musicians and the performance didn’t let up until the end of the evening.

The quartet performing included violinists Rebecca Anderson (an Ensemble Connect Alumnus) and Mari Lee, cellist Mihai Marica (a regular at CMS at Lincoln Center), and violist Ayane Kozasa (a founding member of the Azuri Quartet). The first movement of this piece alternates between two contrasting themes that slowly develop using each other as springboards. The first is a slow ethereal theme layered with nostalgia played with the violins and viola in the highest ranges of their instruments while the cello plucks an almost child-like theme in a completely different register. Ms. Anderson, Ms. Lee, and Ms. Kozasa did a wonderful job of sustaining the high-pitched melody cleanly while Mr. Marica’s warm pizzicatos filled the room. The group brought verve to the raucous second theme, but they were best in the closing bits of the movement as the first theme turns from sweetness to longing.

Instead of moving into the next movement, Ms. Valla (now taken by Mr. Britten’s spirit) began to talk in the first person about Britten’s life during the time the quartet was composed. Ms. Valla (with Noelle Wilsons’s brilliant script) painted Britten’s move to New York and the way his love of California made him long to be back in England. She also introduced the moment Britten met poet W.H. Auden who later became the core of the evening’s drama.

After a riveting performance of the other three movements, Ms. Lee, Ms. Valla, and pianist Julia Hamos joined together for the most creative part of the evening. While Ms. Lee and Ms. Hamos performed the Waltz, March, and Moto perpetuo from Britten Violin Suite, Op. 6, Ms. Valla gave a monologue about Britten’s travels through Europe. At first, she talked about how he went to Vienna and found it magical just as the Waltz began. As Ms. Valla transitioned to talk about the way Britten felt alienated by the rise of Nazism the music moved into the sinister the March. Ms. Valla’s monologue wasn’t constant, there was plenty of space for the music too. Instead it was sort of a trio between the three performers. While Ms. Lee and Ms. Hamos were a bit too loud for Ms. Valla at times, it is hard to play a difficult piano part softly enough for a speaker in such a small space (the audience fit only perhaps 40 people).

The drama of the night reached its peak when the text shifted back to Britten’s fraught relationship with Auden as the Moto perpetuo begins. Here Mr. Lee’s detailed research and Ms. Wilson’s energetic script paid off as Ms. Valla captured Britten’s jealously and infinite admiration for Auden, all while their personal connection soured. As the music broke off, Ms. Valla recited an emotionally abusive letter Auden sent to Britten, essentially lambasting him for what Auden thought was naivety and privilege on Britten’s part. Ms. Valla then claimed to lose Britten’s spirit from exhaustion and the piece goes into intermission.

Above: Ms. Anderson, Ms. Lee, Mr. Marica, and Ms. Kozasa; Photo Credit: Rodrigo Aranjuelo

After intermission, “Britten” talked about the horror he felt at World War II and performing at the Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp with Menhuin for survivors, “I never felt the same after that trip.” It was his vehement belief that art was a panacea for those dark times. With this in mind, the quartet performed the complete String Quartet No. 2, Op. 36 which was composed contemporaneously. While the first two movements are lovely, the Chacony is one of Britten’s most substantial pieces of music. Each quartet member (Ms. Lee and Ms. Anderson switched positions) gave her/his all in the difficultly paced movement, getting every nuance from the sunny bursts of optimism that end the work to the sinewy dissonant textures that start the movement. It was among the liveliest chamber music performances I’ve heard this year, but with Ms. Valla’s speech in mind about the war it became even more emotionally potent.

The genius of Ms. Lee’s production and Mikael Södersten’s direction is that the speech never sounds corny and the music is from top notch performers. This a serious historically informed piece about Britten’s inner life that links directly with the music they perform, almost like immersive program notes that both the novice and aficionado can enjoy. My only wish is that there was more speech in the second half of the program. Nonetheless, it is a relief from the staid concert environment. From the audience members I talked to afterword seemed to make even the most jaded listeners seemed won over – a rewarding evening all around. I look forward to seeing the project’s next production with the next composer.

~Scoresby

To recap, the performers:

Rebecca Anderson, violin

Julia Hamos, piano

Ayane Kozasa, viola

Mari Lee, violin/co-creator

Simon Lee, researcher/co-creator

Mihai Marica, cello

Mikael Södersten, director/advisor

Sagine Valla, actor

Noelle P. Wilson, playwright

The program:

Britten String Quartet No. 1, Op. 25

Britten Violin Suite, Op. 6 selections

Britten String Quartet No. 2, Op. 36

October 23, 2018
van Zweden’s Bruckner 8th @ The NY Phil

Above: Jaap van Zweden, Musical Director of The New York Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Friday September 28th, 2018 – This evening was our first opportunity to hear Jaap van Zweden lead The New York Philharmonic since he officially took up the position of Musical Director. My friend Ben Weaver and I splurged and bought tickets to this concert because Bruckner is always on our must-hear list. In 2014, I had my first live encounter with the composer’s 8th in this very hall, under Alan Gilbert’s baton. It was a revelation.

Tonight, Jaap van Zweden offered Conrad Tao’s Everything Must Go as a prelude to the Bruckner 8th. Does this massive symphony need a prelude? No. As with many ‘new’ works we’ve encountered over the past few seasons, Everything Must Go is expertly crafted but it sounds like so much else: by turns spare and noisy, with frequent percussive bangs and pops, this eleven-minute piece (it felt longer) passed by without providing any sense of the composer’s individual voice. Perhaps hearing more of Mr. Tao’s work – music not yoked to an existing masterpiece that employs the same orchestral forces – will lead us to discover who he is.

Since there was no pause between the Tao and the Bruckner, the audience’s response to Everything Must Go could not be gauged. I wonder if the young composer took a bow at the end; we had headed out as the applause commenced.

For the first two movements of the Bruckner, I was enthralled. The orchestra sounded truly superb, and Maestro van Zweden held sway with a perfect sense of the music’s architecture. It was a tremendous relief and balm to emerge from the day’s madness (the Kavanaugh hearings) into Bruckner’s vibrant world.

The Philharmonic musicians offered rich tone and marvelous colours, the brass sounding grand and the violins singing lyrically in their big theme. The music has a Wagnerian sense of the monumental, and a ceaseless melodic flow. Among the solo moments, Sherry Sylar’s oboe stood out. At one point there’s an almost direct quote from Tchaikovsky’s SLEEPING BEAUTY. During a respite/interlude, softer themes mingle before a splendid onslaught from the brass turns grandiose. The movement ends on a murmur.

The Scherzo has as its main and oft-repeated theme a churning 5-note figure that has worked its way into the soundtrack for GAME OF THRONES. As the movement progresses, the harp makes a lovely effect, as do the entwining voices of solo woodwinds. Textures modify seamlessly, sustaining our pleasure.

A deep sense of longing suffuses the opening of the Adagio, with its rising passion. Again the harp glimmers magically. The rise and fall of great waves of sound bring passages of almost unbearable beauty; there’s a spectacular build-up to music of searing passion which evaporates into soft halo of solo winds. As the music re-builds, a Tchaikovskian glory permeates. It seems, though, that Bruckner cannot quite decide how to end this epic movement.

Pulsing, march-like, and majestic, the Finale leads us onward. A big swaying rhythm from the timpani leads into a huge tsunami of sound. The work began to feel like a series of climaxes, though, and traces of brass fatigue started to crop up. The Maestro and the musicians were engulfed by gales of applause and cheers at the end.

I’m probably in a minority in feeling that Alan Gilbert’s 2014 rendering of the Bruckner 8th with the Philharmonic reached me on a deeper level, as well as being more exhilarating. “Well, it was faster!”, Ben Weaver would say. À chacun son goût…

~ Oberon

September 29, 2018