Category: Music

Pappano & Andsnes @ NY Philharmonic

Above: Conductor Antonio Pappano; Photo Credit: Musacchio & Ianniello

~Author: Scoresby

Thursday February 8th, 2018 – The New York Philharmonic seemed in good form at David Geffen Hall. They were led by the wonderful Antonio Pappano, who I had never had the opportunity to hear before. I also hadn’t heard any of the works on the program live, though I have heard them all via recording. Pianist Leif Ove Andsnes and resident NY Philharmonic organist Kent Tritle rounded out the program. It is interesting to have heard the Philharmonic after a long break, as both this time and last time I heard the playing seemed higher quality than I recalled. It will be interesting to see how the sound changes again next year when Jaap Van Zweden assumes his full music directorship.

Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis opened the program. I was surprised to learn in the program notes that the last time this famous piece was performed was 20 years before – it seems unusual for a piece that is perhaps Vaughan Williams’s most well-known. The all string orchestra is divided into three distinct groups during this work, the normal string orchestra, a separate orchestra that acts as the melody center, and a string quartet consisting of the principal players. Here, Mr. Pappano put the melodic orchestra in a row behind the strings that played the background counterpoint.

I’ve never been particularly fond of this work, while stunningly beautiful I don’t feel the music goes anywhere. Mr. Pappano convinced me of its beauty though – the slow moving textures almost sounded like a minimalist organ work. The basses and cellos truly sounded like the pedals of an organ while the other strings managed to capture the full nuances of the Phrygian scale that the Tallis themed is based on. All the strings sounded quite clean. Perhaps the most convincing moment was when Cynthia Phelps entered with her melancholic viola melody (6:05 in the video above) – she managed to make the entire room sing. The other quartet members did a good job blending with her, but that lonely call after the richness of what precedes it will remain with me for a long time.

The second work on the program was the Britten Piano Concerto, Op. 13. It is a bit of an odd piece, structured in four movements and lasting about thirty-five minutes. While interesting to hear, it didn’t sound to me nearly as original as other Britten works. Sort of like a medley of Stravinsky, Shostakovich, and Prokofiev with some of Britten’s classic colorful instrumentation. Nonetheless, it is a fun virtuosic piece of music that really shows off an orchestra – even if not the most worthwhile music.

Above: Pianist Leif Ove Andsnes; Photo credit: Gregor Hohenberg

Mr. Andsnes milked the virtuosic first movement for all that it had, ripping through opening lines and making it sound gritty. Mr. Pappano’s accompaniment was spot on with the percussion cued perfectly for the piano’s percussive chords. Nonetheless, the movement is almost clown-esque and this interpretation seemed a little subdued for the material. Mr. Andsnes did seem to revel in the Rite of Spring-like chords (or perhaps I am thinking that because I’ve been listening to his new recording with Marc-André Hamelin).

The second movement is a little less chaotic than the first, the first few lines make it sound like one is in a jazz bar with people who are smoking. The bass is plucking away, while someone is lightly tapping on tambourine. The viola and clarinet exchange jazzy sounding lines. Ms. Phelps again did a fabulous job, here embracing that smoky texture as did Mr. Andsnes when the piano finally comes in to some music that sounds straight out of Prokofiev.

Eventually this setting yields to another virtuosic theme that recapitulates parts of the first movement. The third movement is a theme and variations that grows progressively denser – while interesting, it doesn’t quite feel like it belongs. Britten wrote many years later to replace a different version and it is easy to tell. The finale is exciting and showy, both Mr. Pappano and Andsnes making the most of it.

The second half of the concert was devoted to Saint-Saëns Symphony No. 3 in C minor, Op. 78 with Kent Tritle performing the organ. While a popular piece, it hasn’t been done at the NY Phil in 8 years and so I haven’t gotten the chance to hear it live before. In some ways though, I feel like I still haven’t heard the piece properly. Because Mr. Tritle was playing an electronic organ, some of the grandness of the work didn’t seem to be present – indeed my friend and I chuckled a bit when the electronic organ entered as it just didn’t sound right for such a delicately composed piece. That is no fault of the organist, however, it would be lovely if Lincoln Center built an organ in David Geffen Hall.

Mr. Pappano programmed the Vaughan Williams well, it mirrors both the sound of the organ and structure of the Saint-Saëns making for a satisfying second half. Mr. Pappano brought an incisive and almost frenzied energy to the Allegro moderato in the first movement. The famous theme sounded buzzing with energy. Most impressive though were the clear textures in the massive fugue in the second movement, not a note was out of place, being both transparent and energetic. One effect that I had never noticed was Saint-Saëns dazzling use of pianos in the second movement’s presto. They are light and just a tinkle above the orchestra, but give it this glistening sonority that sounded to me like stained glass in sunlight. It was delightful to hear and I look forward to hearing Mr. Pappano again. He manages to choral the orchestra into action and get the best of its players.

~ Scoresby

February 14, 2018
Dorothea Röschmann @ Zankel Hall

Above: soprano Dorothea Röschmann

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday February 13th, 2018 – Soprano Dorothea Röschmann in recital at Zankel Hall, with Malcolm Martineau at the piano. This was an evening of music-making of the highest order, for both soprano and pianist are masters of their art, and communicators sans pareil.

Ms. Röschmann made her Metropolitan Opera debut in 2003 as Susanna in NOZZE DI FIGARO and subsequently performed three more Mozart roles there: Pamina, Ilia, and Donna Elvira. She last sang at The Met in 2008. Elsewhere, of late, she has ventured into heavier repertoire including the roles of the Marschallin and Desdemona. I had not heard her live since the Met IDOMENEO, and was very much hoping I would enjoy this re-connection as much as I did hearing her then. She surpassed my highest hopes.

What I loved most about Ms. Röschmann’s singing this evening was her fascinating employment of her vibrato as a means of expression. Within a given phrase, she could mete out the vibrancy, hone it down to straight tone, or unfurl it to full dramatic effect; this gave her singing a panoramic emotional range, from vulnerable or pensive to unstinting grandeur. It’s a wonderfully feminine voice, and her diction and her shading of the texts drew us deeply into each song.

Commencing with Schubert, the soprano’s vibrato in “Heiss mich nicht reden” as the very first seemed a bit prominent; yet by mid-song, Ms. Röschmann’s intuitive manipulation of it was already making its effect. “So lasst mich scheinen” with its gentle start, was lovingly sung. Mr. Martineau’s introduction to “Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt” set the mood for Ms. Röschmann’s singing: so poignant, with the passing anxiety at separation from her beloved fading back to melancholy. The familiar “Kennst du das Land” was magnificent in every way, expressive of the poem’s varying moods, with delicious lower notes and the words so clear and finely-coloured; and Mr. Martineau here was divine.

Singer and pianist left the stage briefly before returning for the final Schubert, “Nachtstück“. This night-song, sung by an old man wandering the woods as Death hovers about him, took on an operatic aspect with Mr. Martineau’s atmospheric playing of the introduction, and the sense of mystery in the soprano’s haunting – and then expansive – singing. The piano evokes the sound of the old man’s harp as the song winds thru major/minor modulations: such moving music to experience.

Above: pianist Malcolm Martineau, photographed by Thomas Oliemans

In Mahler’s Rückert Lieder, Ms. Röschmann’s gifts as a storyteller were abundantly evident. From the playful “Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder” and the gently magical, Springlike joy of “Ich atmet’ einen linden Durftt“, with Mr. Martineau’s sweet postlude, soprano and pianist moved to the drama of “Um mitternacht“. This was profoundly delivered, Ms. Röschmann summoning rich tone for a great outpouring of sound, all the while keeping us under her spell with varying degrees of vibrato; Mr. Martineau’s playing matched the singing in all its glory.

In “Liebst Du Um Schönheit“, the soprano chose to linger slightly from time to time, giving the song a delicious individuality of expression. Then, with the final Mahler, “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen“, the intrinsic and somewhat unusual beauty of Ms. Röschmann’s voice made this beloved, meaningful poem utterly personal. A touch of lightness here and there was enchanting, her singing so thoughtful and womanly. The end of this song can sometimes be shaded with resignation, but in Ms. Röschmann’s moving singing of the final lines, we instead feel her sense of deep contentment. Mr. Martineau beautifully sustained the poetry with his transportive playing of the postlude.

The second half of the program was given over to songs with words written by women. Robert Schumann’s Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart, Op. 135. are settings to texts drawn from the letters of Mary, Queen of Scots, written at significant points in her tragic life. Presage of disaster seems a constant force in the Queen’s story, right from her birth. In these Schumann settings, we move from a wistful farewell to France and a hopeful prayer marking the birth of her son, to a dramatic letter Mary wrote to her cousin, Elizabeth I – the cousin who would eventually betray Mary Stuart to her death. This very dramatic song was vividly rendered by Ms. Röschmann and Mr. Martineau, who then progressed to the scene of Mary’s impending execution: in “Abschied von der Welt” – the Queen’s farewell to the world – the pianist’s colourings of reflection and resignation were ideal. The final “Gebet” is a prayer for her own soul: eighteen years a prisoner, Mary Stuart is at last set free by Death. Ms. Röschmann really lived these songs, so deeply that in the end she truly seemed in a trance.

To hear Ms. Röschmann and Mr. Martineau performing Richard Wagner’s Wesendonck Lieder was an experience to cherish. At a point in time when the Metropolitan Opera seems to be so stinting with their Wagner offerings (only PARSIFAL this season), we are always eager to hear the Master’s music where- and when-ever possible.

Just now I am reading Judith Cabaud’s lovely/sad biography of Mathilde Wesendonck, the beautiful young poetess whose relationship with Wagner – whether physical or spiritual – hastened the demise of the composer’s first marriage and, in a way, set the stage for Wagner’s finding his soulmate in Cosima Von Bülow.

Whilst Wagner was living in a small house on the Wesendonck’s Swiss estate, the lives of the composer and Fray Wesendonck became entwined. Mathilde was the inspiration for TRISTAN UND ISOLDE; each day, Wagner would send her a page or two of this opera which he was writing with such feverish diligence. This inspired Mathilde to write a series of poems, which she sent to Wagner, one by one, and which he instantaneously set to music. Then one day, a note from Wagner to his muse was intercepted by Minna Wagner’s servant and that was the beginning of the end – of both the Wagners’ marriage and of his living as the Herr Wesendonck’s guest.

And so we are left with this set of five songs, so marvelously moving in their atmosphere of romantic longing. They were eventually orchestrated, and that is how they are most often heard these days. But my very first exposure to the Wesendonck Lieder came in 1970 when I attended a recital by Dame Janet Baker at Syracuse, New York. Martin Isepp was the pianist. It was a performance I’ll never forget, and hearing this music live again tonight had a “full-circle” feeling, nearly fifty years on.

Ms. Röschmann and Mr. Martineau put us deeply under a Wagnerian spell, commencing with “Der Engel” in which the Röschmann voice entranced with its flickering vibrato, its velvety lower tones, and her expressive power of the poetic. The agitation of “Stehe still!” commenced some sensational playing from Mr. Martineau, and, as the music turned more lyrically yearning, Ms. Röschmann’s singing took on a very personal intimacy, her lower tones having a sensuous smoulder. Mr. Martineau, at the song’s end, was so evocative.

With “Im Triebhaus” we are suddenly borne away to Castle Kareol, the wounded Tristan’s lonely childhood home, where he now awaits his Isolde. The musical introduction to this song was lifted by Wagner directly into the prelude of TRISTAN‘s third act. Here, yet again, the blessings of Ms. Röschmann’s way with words were invaluable. The piano’s harmonic modulations and voice’s gradations of both vibrancy and dynamic created a whole world, with the pianist incredibly poignant. The Röschmann lower notes continued to strike a particularly sensitive spot in my spine, producing tremblings of emotion. And Mr. Martineau’s finishing notes were to die for.

With the passions of “Schmerzen“, Ms. Röschmann’s deeper tones literally tore at the heart, whilst ecstatic playing from Mr. Martineau left the soprano beaming radiantly as the song drew to its close. She lingered in a dreamlike state as the pianist set forth the opening bars of “Träume“. By this point I was breathless, drunk on the sheer beauty of the music, Ms. Röschmann’s heavenly singing, and the tenderness of Mr. Martineau’s playing. Could I not now stay here in their world, in this realm where Wagner and his Mathilde found sanctuary?

My return to reality was blessedly buffered as the deep, very cordial applause of the crowd drew the singer and pianist back for three encores – Liszt, Schumann, and (I believe) Schubert – each lovelier than the last. That we have such music in the world, and such musicians to bring it to us, counts for so much in this day and age.

~ Oberon

February 13, 2018
@ My Met Score Desk for TOSCA

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday January 27th, 2018 matinee – The Met have fortunately replaced their unsightly and theatrically tedious Luc Bondy production of TOSCA with a traditional setting of the “shabby little shocker”; it opened on New Year’s Eve with a cast and conductor that had undergone changes in the run up to the prima.

Aside from the dramatic show curtain depicting the Archangel Michael with blood-red wings, I could not see anything of the sets and costumes from my score desk. In April, I’ll get a full-view when the ‘second cast’ takes over.

Other than at performances of TURANDOT, this was the fullest house I have seen at The Met in the past few seasons. Apparently many in the audience found the MetTitles in Act I to be hilarious today, for there was much unbridled laughter.

The orchestra sounded great, and I’ve always liked Emmanuel Villaume’s conducting both in the opera house and the concert hall. His TOSCA was on the grand scale, painted in broad strokes, with tempi that pressed forward; yet there were also the needed lyrical respites where orchestral detail could be savoured. Villaume also allowed his singers to cling to favorite notes, without losing the shape of the music. A volcanic eruption of orchestral sound as the ‘Scarpia Chords’ heralded the Baron’s entry was actually thrilling.

Sonya Yoncheva has been singing her first career Toscas in the present run. My past experiences with her in the theater have been as a pleasant Mimi and a moderately attractive Desdemona. In both those roles, a rather generic timbre and a tendency to sing slightly above pitch rather frequently offset her physical appeal and pretty but unexceptional vocalism. Making a sudden leap (oops!) to Tosca seemed like an unwise move for her; but, since I’m not a fan, do I really care if she blows her voice out?

Her Tosca was sung with unrelenting loudness; it’s a one-colour voice to begin with, and she seemed indifferent to the markings in the score, seldom if ever singing less than mezzo-forte. Being a shade sharp much of the time did not help matters. She’s pushing the lower range, and the top now tends to waver a bit. Overall there was a sense of forcing to fill the big hall.

The “Vissi d’arte” was over-sung, without the pulling back at “Nell’ora del dolore…” that personalizes the aria. In terms of declamation, Ms. Yoncheva melodramatically veered from ‘shrilling’ on “Tu non l’avrai stasera…giuro!” to shouting on “Sogghigno di demone!” Overall, she often seemed fully-extended. Yet her big aria won her a big applause, and I feel she’ll be encouraged to make further forays into roles calling for a more dramatic sound than is hers by nature. I would guess in three or four years she will find herself in a similar situation vocally to the woman she replaced in these performances.

Vittorio Grigolo’s Cavaradossi is likewise a step or two in vocal heft beyond the roles we’ve heard him sing to date. A generous singer, Grigolo pleases the crowd with his unfettered sound; he can zing out top notes that have a real spark but – unlike Ms. Yoncheva – he does on occasion throw in a piano note or turn a phrase more gently.

In the past, Željko Lučić has sometimes annoyed me with his errant sense of pitch in the Verdi roles, but today as Scarpia that problem cropped up only in passing. Following the thundering chords that announce Scarpia’s arrival in the Church of Sant’Andrea della Valle, Mr. Lučić unleashed his own thunderbolt with “Un tal baccano in chiesa?!”, catapulting to a house-filling top note. He alone of the three principals seemed to be doing something with the the words, and his singing veered from ripe power to velvety insinuation. As Tosca fled the scene after their encounter, Mr. Lučić’s Scarpia laid the groundwork for his plot. In the ensuing Te Deum, baritone, chorus, and orchestra combined forces for genuinely exciting finale to the first act.

Lučić continued to impress in Act II, despite the occasional flat note. Ferocious in his questioning of Cavaradossi, feigning cordiality as he drew Tosca to the bargaining table, brazenly expounding on his lechery in “Gia, mi dicon venal”, the Serbian baritone joined the ranks of my favoured Scarpias over the decades: Anselmo Colzani, Cornell MacNeil, Sherrill Milnes, Robert Hale, Frederick Burchinal, and Justino Diaz.

It’s rare to hear a Sacristan who really sings: Patrick Carfizzi put the emphasis on the notes, and let the comedic aspects of the character take care of themselves. He sounded fantastic.

I was planning to stay for the third act, but as so often happens at The Met, the endless intermission got on my nerves and so, after a while, I packed up and headed home.

~ Oberon

January 26, 2018
Gatti/Royal Concertgebouw: Wagner & Bruckner

Above: conductor Daniele Gatti

Author: Oberon

Wednesday January 17th, 2018 – This long-awaited Carnegie Hall concert by the Royal Concertgebouw under the baton of Daniele Gatti paired two of my favorite composers – Wagner and Bruckner – and my expectations for the performance were very high indeed. Wagner-starved as my friend Dmitry and I have been in recent seasons, hearing the Prelude to Act III and Good Friday Spell from PARSIFAL was alone reason to anticipate this concert for months in advance. That Bruckner’s 9th Symphony would complete the program gave reason to feel this was destined to be a thrilling evening. Both works were played magnificently by this great orchestra, and Maestro Gatti again upheld our esteem for him as one of the greatest conductors of our time.

But in practice – as opposed to in theory – I felt, as the evening progressed, that putting these two masterpieces on the same program didn’t work out nearly as well as I’d expected. About midway thru the Bruckner, I felt my interest waning. In attempting to reason it out, I came to this conclusion: Wagner is a great composer, and Bruckner is a very good one. This certainly does not mean that Bruckner’s music isn’t wonderful, and meaningful. But there’s a depth of feeling in Wagner’s writing that – for me – eludes Bruckner.

Wagner’s two ‘Grail’ operas – one about the father (PARSIFAL) and the other about the son (LOHENGRIN) – both contain music of other-worldly beauty. The composer wrote: “It is reserved for Art to save the spirit of religion.” [“Religion and Art” (1880)]. In these two operas, Wagner’s music expresses the inexpressible in ways that make non-believers like myself wonder if we’ve got it right…or not.

Maestro Gatti’s gift for evoking mythic times and places (his Metropolitan Opera AIDAs in 2009 were fascinating in this regard) meant that the music from PARSIFAL performed tonight was truly transportive. As with his Met performances of the Wagner opera in 2013, Gatti’s pacing seemed ideal. The gorgeously integrated sound of the Concertgebouw, with its velvety-resonant basses, leads us to Monsalvat, where – with Parsifal’s return – the long Winter gives way to Spring. For a blessèd time, we are far from the dismal present, watching the flowers bloom is that legendary realm, as Kundry weeps. Poetry without words.

Bruckner’s unfinished 9th symphony impressed me deeply when I first heard it performed live in 2014, and I expected the same reaction tonight. For much of the first movement, I was thoroughly engaged and experiencing the tingles of appreciation that Bruckner’s music usually produces. I confess that I like the ‘purple’ parts of Bruckner’s music best, and perhaps my eventual zone-out began with the Scherzo.

In the Adagio, I grew restless; the repetitions became tiresome. A few people got up and left, and others had fallen asleep. I continued to attempt to re-engage with the superb playing and Maestro Gatti’s interpretation, but honestly I could not wait for the symphony to end; and I made a mental note to skip an upcoming performance of it.

The irony of tonight’s situation struck me as I was pondering the experience on the train going home. How is it that Wagner, a non-believer, is able to put us in touch with the divine whereas the pious Bruckner, a devout Catholic who dedicated the 9th symphony “To God”, seems only to be knocking on heaven’s door?

Now, more than ever, I look forward to the upcoming PARSIFAL performances at The Met.

~ Oberon

January 18, 2018
Gatti/Royal Concertgebouw: Wagner & Bruckner

Above: conductor Daniele Gatti

Author: Oberon

Wednesday January 17th, 2018 – This long-awaited Carnegie Hall concert by the Royal Concertgebouw under the baton of Daniele Gatti paired two of my favorite composers – Wagner and Bruckner – and my expectations for the performance were very high indeed. Wagner-starved as my friend Dmitry and I have been in recent seasons, hearing the Prelude to Act III and Good Friday Spell from PARSIFAL was alone reason to anticipate this concert for months in advance. That Bruckner’s 9th Symphony would complete the program gave reason to feel this was destined to be a thrilling evening. Both works were played magnificently by this great orchestra, and Maestro Gatti again upheld our esteem for him as one of the greatest conductors of our time.

But in practice – as opposed to in theory – I felt, as the evening progressed, that putting these two masterpieces on the same program didn’t work out nearly as well as I’d expected. About midway thru the Bruckner, I felt my interest waning. In attempting to reason it out, I came to this conclusion: Wagner is a great composer, and Bruckner is a very good one. This certainly does not mean that Bruckner’s music isn’t wonderful, and meaningful. But there’s a depth of feeling in Wagner’s writing that – for me – eludes Bruckner.

Wagner’s two ‘Grail’ operas – one about the father (PARSIFAL) and the other about the son (LOHENGRIN) – both contain music of other-worldly beauty. The composer wrote: “It is reserved for Art to save the spirit of religion.” [“Religion and Art” (1880)]. In these two operas, Wagner’s music expresses the inexpressible in ways that make non-believers like myself wonder if we’ve got it right…or not.

Maestro Gatti’s gift for evoking mythic times and places (his Metropolitan Opera AIDAs in 2009 were fascinating in this regard) meant that the music from PARSIFAL performed tonight was truly transportive. As with his Met performances of the Wagner opera in 2013, Gatti’s pacing seemed ideal. The gorgeously integrated sound of the Concertgebouw, with its velvety-resonant basses, leads us to Monsalvat, where – with Parsifal’s return – the long Winter gives way to Spring. For a blessèd time, we are far from the dismal present, watching the flowers bloom is that legendary realm, as Kundry weeps. Poetry without words.

Bruckner’s unfinished 9th symphony impressed me deeply when I first heard it performed live in 2014, and I expected the same reaction tonight. For much of the first movement, I was thoroughly engaged and experiencing the tingles of appreciation that Bruckner’s music usually produces. I confess that I like the ‘purple’ parts of Bruckner’s music best, and perhaps my eventual zone-out began with the Scherzo.

In the Adagio, I grew restless; the repetitions became tiresome. A few people got up and left, and others had fallen asleep. I continued to attempt to re-engage with the superb playing and Maestro Gatti’s interpretation, but honestly I could not wait for the symphony to end; and I made a mental note to skip an upcoming performance of it.

The irony of tonight’s situation struck me as I was pondering the experience on the train going home. How is it that Wagner, a non-believer, is able to put us in touch with the divine whereas the pious Bruckner, a devout Catholic who dedicated the 9th symphony “To God”, seems only to be knocking on heaven’s door?

Now, more than ever, I look forward to the upcoming PARSIFAL performances at The Met.

~ Oberon

January 17, 2018
Mälkki/Skride @ NY Phil

~ Author: Scoresby

Thursday January 11 2018 – Last night at the New York Philharmonic was an evening that I had been looking forward to for a long time. It was conducted by Susanna Mälkki and featured violinist Baiba Skride. I had never heard Ms. Mälkki conduct the New York Philharmonic before, but had heard her during her days as music director of Ensemble intercontemporain, her debut at the Chicago Symphony a few years ago, and most recently conducting L’Amour de Loin. She is one of those conductors that I don’t necessarily agree with stylistically, but she always has an interesting and unique interpretation that is worth hearing.

The performance began with Baiba Skride performing the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35, which while a warhorse is also one of the most difficult concerti in the violin repertoire. Immediately from the orchestral introduction it was clear that Ms. Mälkki had prepared the orchestra well – all of the textures were transparent and grand. Ms. Skride for her part had a warm interpretation but that didn’t indulge in large romantic gestures. Instead, she played the piece as one might play Brahms. Each of the tuttis were more memorable though as I don’t think I’ve heard an orchestral accompaniment as vibrant or full of life for a piece like this. Ms. Mälkki followed Ms. Skride’s lead in taking out extravagant gestures usually found in the concerto. In the second tutti, the orchestra felt light, brisk, with the trumpets sounding grand above the violins. Ms. Mälkki produced an almost frantic tempo in the lead up to the cadenza. Ms. Skride was at her best in the fast skittering parts of the first movement, but seemed to have trouble with some of the technical sections of the piece.

Above: Violinist Baiba Skride; Photo Credit: Marco Borggreve

The second movement was the best of the concerto, in part because there was more direct interplay between Ms. Skride and the orchestra. Principal clarinet Anthony McGill’s duet with Ms. Skride was crafted beautifully; each note sounding like velvet. Ms. Skride took the third movement at a blistering pace and seemed more in her element here. She got a folksy, scraggily sound out of the violin that made the music feel more dance like.

After intermission Ms. Mälkki led the orchestra in the NY Premiere of an older piece of Esa-Pekka Salonen’s called Helix. While not the most exciting work by Salonen, this is an enjoyable overture-style piece that builds in momentum and dynamics until the very end. It begins with low gongs beating with high flutes coming in way above them. This extreme tonal range gives an almost primordial sound that one would hear in Ives. As with all Salonen pieces, this one relies on dance-like motifs mixed with a lot of orchestral coloring – thus it made sense to pair with the Debussy that would come later. Most impressive was that as the pieces gains momentum and becomes denser, Ms. Mälkki managed to create absolute clarity with the orchestra. Every instrument could be heard near the end, evening with banging percussion and wild dancing from all the instruments. Ms. Mälkki’s style of conducting reflects this precision: it is punctilious and clear; every beat is perfectly straight.

Above: Conductor Susanna Mälkki; Photo by: Simon Fowler

The final piece on the program was Debussy’s La Mer. Ms. Mälkki had an unusual interpretation that I found to be thrilling and dull at the same time. On one hand, particularly in the first and last movements, I have never heard the piece played with so attention to orchestral coloring. The winds and the brasses sparkled, the strings gushed at times, and there were thrashes, yet also beautifully delicate moments. Through all three movements every part of the orchestral was ringing with sound and clear. There wasn’t a note out of place. That said, Ms. Mälkki seemed to eschew all sense of ambiguity and impressionism in her interpretation using the same precision as in the Salonen. This worked well in the second movement which has a lot of counterpoint and fast runs, but it made the mystery of the music disappear in the others. I can imagine that anyone that enjoys a more sensual Debussy would be bored by this interpretation, but it is hard to argue with the interpretation as a whole when the orchestra has that much color. Ms. Mälkki obviously has the respect of the orchestra; the players were playing the best I’ve heard them in the past few years and were giving it their all. I look forward to hearing Ms. Mälkki’s return.

~ Scoresby

January 16, 2018
Evelyn Mandac

Evelyn Mandac (above), a soprano from The Philippines, sang several performances as Lauretta in Gianni Schicchi plus a single Gretel at The Met in 1976.

She appeared with San Francisco Opera as Susanna in Le nozze di Figaro, Despina in Cosi fan Tutte (with Frederica von Stade and Evelyn Lear), and as Ines in L’Africaine (with Shirley Verrett and Plácido Domingo). The Meyerbeer is preserved on the Gala label.

Ms. Mandac sang in the American premieres of works by Henze, Berio, and Pasatieri, and she made a commercial recording of Orff’s Carmina Burana with The Boston Symphony, conducted by Seiji Ozawa.

Evelyn Mandac – O mio babbino caro – GIANNI SCHICCHI – Met 1976

December 22, 2017
Nicholas di Virgilio: Two Fausts

American tenor Nicholas di Virgilio (above) was a stalwart of the New York City Opera during the Company’s heady time in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Having moved from City Center to the New York State Theatre, and bolstered by the ‘overnight success’ of Beverly Sills, New York City Opera became a true mecca for opera-lovers, providing serious competition for The Met next-door with a company of wonderful singing-actors and a more adventurous repertoire. I heard literally hundreds of really memorable performances there.

In addition to his busy operatic career, Mr. di Virgilio was well-known as a concert artist. In 1963, he participated in a performance of Benjamin Britten’s WAR REQUIEM with the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood which has been preserved on DVD; Erich Leinsdorf conducts, and Phyllis Curtin and Tom Krause are the other vocal soloists.

Mr. di Virgilio is the tenor soloist in Leonard Bernstein’s 1964 recording of the Beethoven 9th, and the tenor also sang Mozart’s D-minor REQUIEM at a memorial service for President John F Kennedy in January of 1964, under Leinsdorf’s baton; the performance was televised. Composer Dominic Argento dedicated his Six Elizabethan Songs to Nicholas di Virgilio.

In 1970, at New York City Opera, I chanced to hear Nicholas di Virgilio sing Faust in both the Gounod and Boito settings of the story of an aging philosopher who sells his soul to the devil. I was particularly amazed by his taking the high-C in “Salute demeure” in a lovely piano.

Nicholas di Virgilio – FAUST aria – NYCO 3

Nicholas di Virgilio – Da campi dai prati – MEFISTOFELE – NYCO 1970

~ Oberon

December 20, 2017
CMS Brandenburgs ~ 2017

Above: the Master of Music, Johann Sebastian Bach

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday December 19th, 2017 – Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s annual holiday-season performances of Bach’s immortal Brandenburg Concertos offer an antidote to NUTCRACKER and MESSIAH – not that there’s anything wrong with Tchaikovsky or Handel, to be sure. But the Brandenburgs speak to us without sentimentality or piety: pure music, pure joy.

This year marked my fifth CMS Brandenburgs, and as usual the Society have assembled a brilliant ensemble – from beloved Bach specialists to rising stars – to make the season merry and bright:

Kenneth Weiss, HARPSICHORD • Kristin Lee, Cho-Liang Lin, Daniel Phillips, Danbi Um, VIOLIN • Mark Holloway, Yura Lee, Richard O’Neill, VIOLA • Efe Baltacigil, Nicholas Canellakis, Colin Carr, CELLO • Joseph Conyers, DOUBLE BASS • Robert Langevin, Carol Wincenc, FLUTE • Randall Ellis, James Austin Smith, Stephen Taylor, OBOE • Peter Kolkay, BASSOON • Julie Landsman, Jennifer Montone, HORN • Brandon Ridenour, TRUMPET

Wu Han, co-Artistic Director of Chamber Music Society, welcomed the packed house with her customary enthusiasm and wit. Does any other Artistic Director on the Gotham scene evince such pride in the organization she heads, in the ‘product’ she dispenses (great music), and in the people – these super-musicians – who make each program so meaningful and enjoyable? The overflow crowd, filling the extra rows of seats installed specially for this program, attest to the fact that she and David Finckel are doing everything right.

I’ve never before been in a theater when the classic yet ominous line “Is there a doctor in the house?” comes over the loudspeakers. A gentleman quickly rose and went to see what he could do to help an individual in distress; hopefully it was all resolved to the good.

Each year at the CMS Brandenburgs, the six concertos are played in a different order: tonight it was the fifth which opened the evening. From the New York Philharmonic, Robert Langevin brought his magic flute to the festivities. In music entwining flute and violin, Mr. Langevin and Cho-Liang Lin were exquisite in matters of subtle dynamics and pristine trills. Cordial playing from the string ‘choir’ – Daniel Phillips (violin), Yura Lee (viola), Colin Carr (cello), and Joseph Conyers (bass) – gave the concerto an appealing, warm resonance. In a dazzling cadenza near the end of this concerto’s opening Allegro, harpsichordist Kenneth Weiss thrilled me with his sparkling dexterity, made all the more alluring with hints of rubato. Although applause between movements is normally unwelcome, I couldn’t blame the audience for breaking in here to salute Mr. Weiss and his colleagues.

The fifth concerto’s wistful Affetuoso was dreamily played by Mssers. Lin, Langevin, and Weiss. The deeper voices inaugurate the final Allegro, and here is the perfect opportunity to heap praise on the phenomenal Joseph Conyers, whose grand and glorious bass sound was a constant source of pleasure throughout the evening.

Above: Joseph Conyers

In concerto #6 (B-flat major), violins are absent. Instead, a formidable pair of violists – Yura Lee and Richard O’Neill – face a deluxe trio of cellists (Colin Carr, Efe Baltacigil, and Nicholas Canelakkis) across the music stands. The pulsing Allegro is highlighted by some high-speed coloratura from Mr. Carr; when his fellow cellists join in, watching their swift unison bow-work gave me a smile.

In the sixth concerto’s Adagio – one of Bach’s most moving creations – commences with Richard O’Neill and Colin Carr (under-pinned by the Conyers bass) poignantly drawing us in. Yura Lee then takes up the theme, and for a few blessed moments, the music gives us a transfusion of hope. Colin Carr’s plush sound here gave a soul-reaching expressiveness. Sublime! But, without a pause, the closing Allegro sweeps us inexorably forward: Mr. Carr and the two violists make music that is fast and fun.

Above: Carol Wincenc

The fourth Brandenburg commenced. Flautist Carol Wincenc’s name looms legendary in my pantheon; how wonderful to hear her playing live tonight for only the second time in my experience. Svelte and serene, Ms. Wincenc looked fetching in a ruffled black frock which drew admiring comments from the people sitting around us as she took her bows. Her flute sounds pure and sweet, and in Mr. Langevin she found a duetting partner of equal prestige. Their harmonizing was so elegant, abetted by Mr. Conyers’ amiable bass. Yet another voice is heard: violinist Kristin Lee’s tone mingled with the two flutes in a luminous blend, wondrous and subtle. A petite cadenza from Ms. Wincenc had a shimmering quality.

For the 4th’s finale, I jotted “Speed Demon” next to Ms. Lee’s name: I vastly enjoyed watching her rapid bowing here: fabulous! The flautists were warbling divinely, and cellist Nick Canellakis contributed his customary polished playing: it felt like these musicians were setting the world to rights. A series of modulations carries the fourth concerto to its finish.

Following the interval, the second Brandenburg found Danbi Um in the lead, with superb wind playing from Ms. Wincenc, James Austin Smith (oboe), Peter Kolkay (bassoon), and with trumpet virtuoso Brandon Ridenour soaring on high. Cellist Efe Baltacigil’s pacing motif set the stage for a delectable playing of the Andante in which Mlles. Um and Wincenc and Mr. Smith vied to see who could play the sweeter: a ravishing mix of timbres from these great artists. In the concluding Presto, trumpet and oboe matched wits to delight us even further.

The third concerto, a particular favorite of mine, calls for three violins (Mr. Phillips, Ms. Um, and Kristin Lee), three violas (Richard O’Neill, Mark Holloway, and Yura Lee) and three cellos (Mssrs. Canellakis, Carr, and Baltacigil) whilst the intrepid Kenneth Weiss and Joseph Conyers continued to keep everything vivid. This concerto is unusual in that its Adagio movement consists only of a brief passage from Mr. Phillips’ violin: Bach immediately sends the players back into a swirling Allegro. This evening’s performance of the third showed yet again why the Brandenburgs are so cherished.

First came last tonight, as the program concluded with the first Brandenburg (in F-major): the one that always reminds me of Handel. The ensemble here features two horns and a trio of oboes. With violinist Daniel Phillips in charge, Jennifer Montone and Julie Landsman sounded velvety in their harmonized horn calls whilst Stephen Taylor, Randall Ellis, and James Austin Smith piped up to gratifying effect with their oboes, joined by Peter Kolkay on bassoon. Oboe, violin, bassoon, and bass sound the poignant Adagio, then the high horns ring out briskly in the Allegro. You think this concerto is over, but there’s a surprise fourth movement – it veers between Minuet and Polonaise – in which separate choirs of winds and strings summon up rhythms of the dance. This self-fulfilling ‘encore’ gave us a fine opportunity to enjoy Peter Kolkay’s lively bassoon playing.

~ Oberon

December 19, 2017
The Orchestra Now: Penderecki & Holst

Above: conductor JoAnn Falletta, photo by Cheryl Gorski

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Thursday December 14th, 2017 – TŌN (The Orchestra Now) consists of musicians from leading musical conservatoires around the globe, including Julliard, Curtis and Shanghai Conservatory. I’ve heard less impressive and less cohesive playing from big name orchestras. Under the baton of JoAnn Falletta, the concert was a thrilling evening of superb music-making. And filling the entire stage of Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, one was overwhelmed by the sheer impact and presence of their sound. It rather reinforced my belief that David Geffen Hall truly does have dreadful acoustics. Granted, Alice Tully is a much smaller hall, but it’s not the volume alone that impresses. NY Philharmonic can be plenty loud too. It’s feeling the sound envelop you and pins you to your seat that can be truly breathtaking. This does not happen at David Geffen Hall.

John Adams’ “Short Ride in a Fast Machine” is about five minutes of pure adrenaline. Its percussive opening sets the tone for a repeating loop of fanfares, shrieking woodwinds, and stabbing violins. Adams once described the piece: “You know how it is when someone asks you to ride in a terrific sports car, and then you wish you hadn’t?” Composed in his trademark post-minimalist style, the work constantly shifts, turns, and twists, and the young musicians played it without fear.

Krzysztof Penderecki is one of the giants of contemporary classical music. His “Concerto Doppio”, completed in 2012, was originally written for violin and viola, but in this TŌN concert the version for violin and cello was performed instead, with soloists Dennis Kim and Roman Mekinulov, respectively.

Penderecki intended the solo instruments to be adapted to whatever string instruments are needed for the concert, in the style of J.S. Bach perhaps, who allowed arrangements of a lot of his music for different instruments on as-needed basis. This concerto – proving that great music is still being written – begins unusually with an extended duet for the solo instruments. In fact, the entire concerto is something of a conversation between soloists and orchestra. The music alternates from the largely (or entirely) unaccompanied solo instruments back to the orchestra, and so on. The opening minutes had something of Arvo Pärt’s instrumental chanting, and throughout one could grasp influences from Bach and Shostakovich. The concerto’s end reminded me very much of the hushed conclusion of the first movement of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4.

Falletta allowed the excellent soloists, Kim and Mekinulov, to play without conducting them. As so much of their music really is an unaccompanied duet, it allowed the musicians a great deal of flexibility and freedom.

After the intermission, the orchestra played one of the most popular of all orchestral works: Holst’s “The Planets.” It is appropriate that the concert was given on the day the new Star Wars film, “The Last Jedi,” was released. Hearing the work once again I am struck by how much composer John Williams borrowed from Holst to write the legendary film scores.

Again, to hear such a great and inventive orchestral work for a large orchestra in a hall like Alice Tully was very exciting. Holst’s endless stream of melodies and remarkable orchestration is a war-horse for a good reason and I do not tire of hearing it. The orchestra played it superbly, relishing every note.

No doubt many of the musicians were playing it for the first time. I am reminded of a story – perhaps a myth – about Fritz Reiner rehearsing Wagner’s “Die Meistersinger” overture, and one musician kept making a mistake. When Reiner called him out, the musician said: “I am sorry, Maestro, I am playing this for the first time.” Reiner is said to have replied: “Oh, how I envy you.”

It is not easy to make a work as familiar as “The Planets” sound fresh, but the wonderful young TŌN Orchestra, under JoAnn Falletta’s inspired leadership, not only made it sound fresh, they did it without any noticeable mistakes.

~ Ben Weaver

December 19, 2017