Category: Music

Cynthia Phelps|Jaap van Zweden|NY Phil

Saturday November 19th, 2016 – Even before I started going to The New York Philharmonic faithfully, I was a fan of Cynthia Phelps (above) from her work with Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Tonight, Ms. Phelps was center-stage at Geffen Hall, playing a brand new viola concerto by composer Julia Adolphe. The program further featured works by two of my extreme favorite composers – Wagner and Tchaikovsky – and was conducted by the Philharmonic’s Music Director designate, Jaap van Zweden.

It has been ten years since The Metropolitan Opera last performed LOHENGRIN, and I for one have really missed it; I was grateful tonight for the opportunity to hear the opera’s Act I prelude, and – under Maestro van Zweden’s baton – the artists of the Philharmonic gave it a stunning performance.

Wagner wrote of the prelude as being a depiction of the descent of the Holy Grail to Earth; it opens on high, with ethereal violins, and the rapture slowly spreads from one section of the orchestra to another, creating a sonic glow. At the very end, a return to the stratosphere with a pianissimo whisper from the violins leaves us breathless. Maestro van Zweden molded the piece lovingly, controlling the layerings of sound to perfection and creating an organic whole. It is simply an astonishing and unique piece of music.

Cynthia Phelps, gowned in blue, then took the stage to a warm welcome for Julia Adolphe’s viola concerto; entitled Unearth, Release, the concerto is in three movements, each being sub-titled. The first is Captive Voices, and it opens on a mysterious note with the viola playing in the low register. The composer employs a variety of percussion effects, and here the vibraphone sounds eerily. The viola remains unsettled – as if talking to itself – and then rises slowly out of the depths. A brief shimmer in the violins, a gong resonates ominously, and then the music turns big and cinematic; bells sound, the horns give voice, and magically the harp enters the mix: the concerto’s most intriguing passage – for viola and harp in a pinging dialogue – ensues. An odd, probably sub-conscious quote from LA FORZA DEL DESTINO pricked up my ear; deep, sustained notes from Ms. Phelps, and then her line rises to mingle with the harp again as the music fades into air.

The second movement, Surface Tension, begins with an animated, scurrying passage. The viola is kept busy against shifting rhythmic patterns from the orchestra until the movement comes to an abrupt halt. The dreamlike opening of the third movement, Embracing Mist, features Frank Huang’s violin playing on high. The viola rises, and the cabasa makes a somewhat creepy appearance. Trumpet and English horn speak up before the music turns more expansive, over-lain by a brief horn duet. Ms. Phelps’s viola whispers to us one last time.

The concerto has a darkling appeal, and Ms. Phelps’ playing of it is first-rate; it has the potential to become a vehicle for violists worldwide. The composer took a bow, and the Philharmonic audience – always so responsive when a player from the home team takes a soloist role – showered Ms. Phelps with affection.

Maestro van Zweden (above, in a Marco Borggreve portrait) and the Philharmonic players then gave a thrilling rendering of Tchaikovsky’s 4th symphony. From the opening fanfares, the performance was marked by big, passionate playing whilst jewel-like moments from the various solo voices emerged along the way to delight us. During the course of the first movement, my admiration for Maestro van Zweden became unbounded: his very animated podium personality and his brilliant alternation of jabs, lures, and summonses as he cued the various players was simply delightful to behold. Among the most cordial passages were an alternation of violins vs winds over timpani, and big playing from the horns; flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, and horn soloists shone forth. The music excited us thru its sense of urgency.

Liang Wang’s evocative playing of the oboe solo that opens the second movement was a high point of the performance; in this Andantino, very much à la Russe, the wind soloists again flourished in each opportunity the composer provides.

The dazzling unison plucking of the strings in the Scherzo was vividly crisp and clear tonight, with the Maestro’s fingertip control of the volume sometimes honed the sound down to a delicate pianissimo whilst maintaining the lively atmosphere. Oboe and flute again sing appealingly.

A grand, wild start to the concluding Allegro con fuoco established immediately the fact that Maestro van Zweden was taking the designation “con fuoco” (“fiery”) very much to heart. The orchestra simply blazed away, a mighty conflagration that dazzled the audience in no uncertain terms. As the symphony reached its fantastical conclusion, the Geffen Hall audience burst into unrestrained shouts of approval and gales of applause: everyone stood up to cheer. Maestro van Zweden returned and signaled the musicians to rise, but instead they remained seated and joined in the applause, giving the conductor a solo bow. The audience loved it.

An evening, then, that moved from the spiritual to the exhilarating, superbly played, and with a Maestro from whom, it seems clear, we can expect great things.

November 19, 2016
Recital: Ben Bliss @ Weill Hall

Friday November 18th, 2016 – I first encountered tenor Ben Bliss (above) while he was in the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program at The Met; he was making his Met debut as Vogelgesang in MEISTERSINGER and he stood out for three reasons: tallest man onstage, youngest of the Masters, and a voice of distinctive clarity.

Since then, I have enjoyed listening to several of Mr. Bliss’s YouTube offerings which display a voice capable of incredible beauty (especially in the upper range), a deep sense of poetry in his use of dynamics, and very impressive breath control.

This evening’s program commenced with four songs by Richard Strauss; my initial feeling was that Mr. Bliss was over-singing a bit, and that the piano (even with the lid down) was sometimes too loud. As the songs progressed, the tenor and his pianist Lachlan Glen achieved a more congenial blend, and in “Morgen“, the sensitivity of both artists found truly rewarding expressiveness in a breath-taking performance.

Turning to the French repertoire, Mr. Bliss chose songs from Lili Boulanger‘s “Clarières dans le ciel”; the composer, who died tragically young, left behind a brief catalog of work of which these mélodies hold a particular appeal. Mssrs. Bliss and Glen savoured the perfume of this music in a performance filled with spine-tingling dynamic modulations. The opening “Un poète disait” served to display the tenor’s marvelously heady tones, with an absolutely gorgeous final phrase. Remarkably sustained singing illuminated “Nous nous aimerons tant“, its dreamy quality interrupted by a “noisy” piano interlude. Mr. Bliss managed a fine mix of passion and refinement in “Vous m’avez regardé avec toute votre âme“, where Mr. Glen’s playing was particularly lovely. The pianist’s rippling motif set the mood for the concluding “Les lilas qui avaient fleuri” and the tenor here displayed an intrinsic sense of vocal nuance, with seductively floated upper tones and a final sustained note that was sheer heaven.

Tosti’s “Marechiare” closed the rather brief first half of the program; Mr. Bliss’s voice is not really Italianate in sound, but in this outgoing celebration of a passionate infatuation, he and Mr. Glen took an almost militant stance in favor of romance. I would have liked to have heard some of Tosti’s more caressive tunes from Mr. Bliss, but that will have to wait for another opportunity.

Returning after the interval, the tenor had changed to a white sport coat (no pink carnation, though) for an all-English-language second half. Mr. Bliss described how he came to find the two John Gruen songs – “Spring is like a perhaps hand” and “Lady will you come with me into” – which were never published. With the aid of the composer’s daughter, the manuscripts were located and copies given to the tenor. Musically whimsical, the songs border on cuteness; Mssrs. Bliss and Glen made them perfectly palatable.

Big singing marked Lowell Liebermann’s “The Arrow and The Song” (“I shot an arrow into the air…”): an emphatic and almost grandiose setting. Ned Rorem’s haunting setting of “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” beautifully evokes the quietude of the Winter landscape, and was lovingly sung. Does Theodore Chanler’s “I rise when you enter” have a sexual connotation? It seemed so this evening.

A tenor of Mr. Bliss’s vocal weight and range is of course going to be singing a lot of Britten. Over the years I have come to feel that the composer’s works are best represented by British singers as they seem most persuasive when sung with what we Americans refer to as a “British accent”. That said, Mr. Bliss did very well by the extroverted “The Children and Sir Nameless” whilst Mr. Glen’s introduction to “The Last Rose of Summer” was poetic indeed; as the song progresses, the familiar melody takes on a fresh feeling thru harmonic alterations. Mr. Bliss here again demonstrated his astonishing control in the upper range of his voice.

The final Britten offering, “The Choirmaster’s Burial“, is a touching narrative on the love of music and on a life dedicated to it. Singer and pianist were at their most moving here.

The final three numbers on the printed program – songs associated with Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, and Ray Charles – are pieces Mr. Bliss grew up with. While I know them well, and can even sing two of the three, they are rather outside my musical sphere. But my companion of the evening is a huge devotee of Sinatra and Charles, and she felt that Mr. Bliss’s singing – for all his efforts to the contrary – was too cultivated, and that the rendition of Ray Charles’s “Hallelujah I love Her So” was all wrong.

A very well-known mezzo who was in the vanguard of the crossover phenomenon once asked me why I was put off by her crossover efforts; I replied that thousands of people can sing these Broadway and cabaret numbers to fine effect, but that there are only a half-dozen great Mélisandes in the world. She understood my point, but said she and her audiences took a lot of enjoyment from her less ‘haughty’ recordings. Then I asked her how she would feel if Barbra Streisand decided to sing Idamante; she giggled and rolled her eyes.

At any rate, Ben Bliss was called out for two encores tonight: a sweet “Una furtiva lagrima” and that song with the catchy lyrics from WEST SIDE STORY: “Maria…”

In December I’ll be seeing Ben Bliss as Tamino at The Met and while I wish it wasn’t the pared-down “family” version, I’m really looking forward to it.

November 18, 2016
Noseda|London Symphony|Verdi REQUIEM

Above: Angel With an Olive Branch; Hans Memling ca. 1480

Sunday afternoon October 30th, 2016 – The London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus under Gianandrea Noseda’s baton in a performance of the Verdi REQUIEM at Geffen Hall. A packed house seemed pretty much enthralled by the piece, though oddly a few people got up and left in the middle.

Like every performance of the Verdi REQUIEM I have heard in the past twenty years, this one featured excellent work from the chorus and orchestra and an uneven quartet of principal singers. In a day and age when great Verdi voices are rare, one wonders why orchestras continue to program this demanding work…but I’m glad that they do, for even with a less-than-stellar set of soloists, the REQUIEM is thrilling just as a musical experience.

Singing in place of the announced Francesco Meli, Giorgio Berrugi offered warm, idiomatic vocalism. The ample-toned Vitalij Kowaljow made a most impressive vocal entrance and gave by far the most satisfying performance among the four principals. Daniela Barcellona, with a lovely presence, showed a voice that has succumbed to fluttery vibrato, seemingly as a result of tackling roles like Amneris and Dalila. Soprano Erika Grimaldi was seriously over-parted; her bio lists such roles as Mimi and Nedda, and for the REQUIEM you want a soprano of the Norma/BALLO Amelia ilk.

The performance commenced on a pianissimo hush, with the chorus whispering “Requiem…”; Maestro Noseda chose a very fast tempo at the point where the solo voices enter, slowing down at “Christe…Christe…eleison.” His tempi all afternoon tended to be on the speedy side.

The Dies irae was fast and furious; trumpets stationed in the upper tier boxes added to the sonic thrill. Mr. Kowaljow’s Mors stupebit darkly powerful; and – despite the vibrato – Ms. Barcellona made something out of the Liber scriptus (again, very fast): use of chest voice and a little ‘tear’ in the voice.

Mr. Berrugi sang well in the Quid sum miser, with distinctive phrasing from the bassoon. The conductor continued to speed things along, and he failed to accommodate his lyric-sized soprano in the big ensemble moments where she was unable to sail over the chorus and orchestra. In the Recordare, the vibratos of soprano and mezzo did not align pleasingly.

The tenor gave his best singing of the afternoon in the Ingemisco, the voice clear and the dynamics persuasively modulated; he sounded especially lovely at “Inter oves locum praesta” and the voice rose to a fine conclusion. Mr. Kowaljow’s Confutatis maledictus gave me goosebumps: powerful, emotional singing with a touch of weeping and a huge climax. Mr. Noseda summoned up grumbling lower strings in the Lacrymosa; the four vocalists did not make a good entry at the unaccompanied “Pie Jesu domine“.

There was slight slip in the overall level of singing in the REQUIEM‘s second half. Mr. Berrugi’s Hostias was not quite as impressive as his Ingemisco had been, and the mingled voices of soprano and mezzo in the Agnus Dei produced some “bad vibes”. In between, the Sanctus showed the chorus off to perfection. Mr. Kowaljow maintained the gold standard with his singing in the Lux aeterna.

In the silence that followed Ms. Grimaldi’s “…sum ego et timio” a cellphone rang loudly twice; Maestro Noseda put everything on hold until the atmosphere of quietude was restored. The soprano sang bravely in the Requiem aeternam but lacked the spinto plush and vocal glamour the music needs. She was all but swamped by the chorus in the rigors of the finale.

Maestro Noseda is a very physical conductor, sometimes squatting down to lure the music from his players. In this afternoon’s performance, he, Mr. Kowaljow, and Verdi himself were the heroes.

October 29, 2016
Danish String Quartet @ Zankel Hall
Wednesday October 26th, 2016 – The Danish String Quartet (above) in concert at Zankel Hall in a program pairing final masterworks by Shostakovich and Schubert, with cellist Torleif Thedéen joining the Quartet for the Schubert. It was an extraordinary evening of music-making, with the two vividly contrasted pieces superbly played.

The program opened with a performance of the last of Shostakovich’s fifteen quartets. Composed in 1974, it consists of six inter-connected movements and has the mood of a farewell to life; indeed, the composer died the following year, after a career periodically darkened by deep conflicts with the Soviet government. The ailing Shostakovich created a work of lyrically spare, bleak textures alternating with violent rhythmic gestures.

The atmosphere of the 15th quartet precludes note-taking; from its quiet opening passage played by the second violin, we are drawn into a unique sound-world of severe beauty and grim intensity. The Danish String Quartet’s playing of the opening movement – which the composer indicated should be performed so slowly that listeners would flee the hall out of boredom – took on an almost religious aspect: a sustained and intimate meditation.

The Quartet’s hallmark mastery of dynamics, the natural flow of the music from voice to voice, and their finely-balanced layering of sound, created an incredible atmosphere which was sustained throughout the 40-minute work. Moments of great delicacy stood in contrast to jagged slashings; an off-kilter waltz, sustained notes that spring out of nowhere, vibrant trills, a resonant viola cavatina, deep passion from the cello, an overall sense of desolation. Despite a few Playbill-flippers seated near me, the audience was held in a rapt state throughout the piece; the applause – deep and sincere, but not boisterous – signaled the impact the music and the musicians had made.

Feeling both drained and enriched by this monumental musical experience, I remained in my seat throughout the intermission, deep in thought.

Following the interval, the Schubert string quintet in C-major, with cellist Torleif Thedéen joining the ensemble. This quintet, written in 1828, was Schubert’s last extended piece of chamber music. It seems that the composer never heard this final masterwork performed; he died on October 2nd, 1828, and the quintet was not performed publicly until 1850.

One of the longest works in the chamber music repertory, Schubert’s C-major quintet sounds more like a celebration of life than a prelude to death. The composer was desperately ill while composing it, but the work has a feeling of optimism – as though he felt he might actually re-bound and compose for another 30 or 40 years. It was not to be, and – as with Mozart, Chopin, and Pergolesi – we are left to ponder what might have been.

The Danish String Quartet’s traversal of the Schubert was so persuasive both in tonal beauty and rhythmic inflection that the work sped by. The songful-to-stormy opening movement, with its return to tranquility in C-major, is followed by one of music’s most marvelous adagios, underscored by plucked lower notes. The players seemed to be having serious fun in the Scherzo, and then moved on to the gypsy-flavour of the finale.

At the close of the Schubert’s joy-filled final Allegretto, the Danes were given an enthusiastic ovation from the audience. The players responded with an encore: a lyrical, chorale-like quintet that was lovingly played.

The Participating Artists:

The Danish String Quartet:

~ Frederik Øland, Violin
~ Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen, Violin
~ Asbjørn Nørgaard, Viola
~ Fredrik Schøyen Sjölin, Cello

Torleif Thedéen, Cello

The Repertory:
- SHOSTAKOVICH String Quartet No. 15 in E-flat Minor, Op. 144
- SCHUBERT String Quintet in C Major, D. 956
October 26, 2016
Leonidas Kavakos: Double Duty @ The NY Philharmonic

Thursday October 20th, 2016 – Leonidas Kavakos (above) was both soloist and conductor for this evening’s program at The New York Philharmonic. Mr. Kavakos is the Philharmonic’s current Mary and James G. Wallach Artist-in-Residence, and in this capacity will blessedly be with us frequently in the current season. Tonight, the prodigiously talented violinist played Bach and then moved to the podium to conduct works by Busoni and Schumann.

With the mystique of a Tolkien wizard, Mr. Kavakos worked his magic in a brilliant rendering of J.S. Bach’s Violin Concerto in D minor (reconstructed), BWV 1052; surrounded by an ensemble of the orchestra’s elite string players, and with Paolo Bordignon at the harpsichord, he cast a spell over the hall with his playing. Following a sizzling cadenza midway thru the first movement, the violinist and his colleagues drew us in with the lamenting beauty of the adagio. An unfortunate cellphone intrusion in the very last moments of the movement was brushed aside as Mr. Kavakos sailed forward with stunning virtuoso playing in the allegro, where he summoned up visions of the legendary “mad fiddlers” who played as if possessed by demons.

The whole ensemble went merrily along on the soloist’s swift ride, and I must mention Timothy Cobb’s plush tone and amiable agility on bass. Shouts of ‘bravo‘ rang thru the hall as the concerto ended. Mr. Kavakos and Sheryl Staples, this evening’s concertmaster, clearly form a mutual-admiration-society; after bowing to the audience’s enthusiasm, the soloist signaled Ms. Staples to rise but instead she and all her colleagues remained seated, vigorously applauding Mr. Kavakos. When he finally got the players to stand, the applause re-doubled.

The Geffen Hall stage crew swiftly re-set the space for the next work: I had discovered Ferruccio Busoni’s Berceuse élégiaque earlier this season when the Curtis Symphony Orchestra performed it at Carnegie Hall, and was very glad of an opportunity to experience it again tonight.

This is music wrapped in a somber mystery. The composer wrote these lines as a brief ‘prologue’ to the piece:

“The child’s cradle rocks, the hazard of his fate reels; life’s path fades, fades away into the eternal distance.”

During the ten-minute course of this eerie lullaby, the music rises very slowly from the depths; the subtle interjections from the harp add a dreamlike quality, as does the celesta which joins the darkling ensemble near the end. As a chillingly marvelous finish, a gong sounds and its reverberations fade to nothingness.

The Philharmonic’s Playbills are always loaded with fascinating articles and information; I read them on the train trip homeward after the concerts. One passage in the notes on the Busoni struck a tragic note: Gustav Mahler conducted the Philharmonic premiere of the Berceuse élégiaque on February 21st, 2011. Suffering from heart disease, Mahler was forced to withdraw from a second performance of the work; he sailed back to Europe and died in Vienna in May. The February 21st Philharmonic concert thus marked the last time he ever conducted.

Robert Schumann’s Symphony No. 2 was the evening’s concluding work. Here my companion and I were at a loss: the music is absolutely lovely from start to finish, and it was conducted and played with both steadfastness and genuine affection by Mr. Kavakos and the artists of the Philharmonic. But somehow it is simply too much of a good thing. We were trying to figure out the reasons why this music, so congenial, seems to go in one ear and out the other; there’s no edge to it anywhere, and nothing that reaches the heart. Also, for me, part of the problem is all the tutti playing: there’s a shortage of those passages where solos might lure us in or smaller components of the orchestra might bedevil one another. Only in the adagio, where the oboe, clarinet and horns had chances to step forward, did my interest perk up. For the rest, the music simply washed over us to beautiful but unmemorable effect.

Clearly ours is a minority report: several people sitting around us were ‘conducting’ along, or swaying slightly, or tapping their feet. A lusty ovation was unleashed immediately after the final chord, and this was so well-merited by conductor and players.

October 20, 2016
In Troubled Days of Peace @ ASO

Above: baritone Donnie Ray Albert

Wednesday October 19th, 2016 = The American Symphony Orchestra presenting concert settings of operas by Ernst Krenek and Richard Strauss in their season-opening program. The timely theme of dictatorships and the eternally evasive concept of peace hung in the air at Carnegie Hall, where appreciative music lovers had gathered, skipping a pointless presidential ‘debate’ in favor of hearing some rarely-performed works.

Ernst Krenek’s Der Diktator was completed in August 1926. You can read a synopsis of the opera and find background material here, since I’m going to concentrate on the evening’s presentation.

Leon Botstein and his intrepid players gave a fine rendering of the very palatable score. The performance was dominated by Donnie Ray Albert as the Dictator. A stalwart force in the realms of opera and concert since 1976, Mr. Albert is now 66 years of age, and boasts a voice that has retained its power, along with interpretive skills that are truly impressive. Whether in bold declamation or in the music’s more lyrical passages, Mr. Albert gave a masterful performance. Another impressive voice was that of Karen Chia-Ling Ho as Maria: displaying a large, spinto sound and hall-filling top notes, the soprano also invested her singing with dramatic urgency. Ilana Davidson, a petite woman with a baby-dollish timbre, piped up boldly as Charlotte, and Mark Duffin was able to combine the power of a helden- and the verbal edge of a character-tenor. Portraying an officer blinded by poison gas while in the Dictator’s service, Mr. Duffin wore sunglasses and managed, for all his gritty vocal power, to create a moving figure.

Richard Strauss’s Friedenstag (Peace Day) was premiered at Munich in 1938, with Adolf Hitler among the audience. Set during the Thirty Years War, the story is unfolds in a city under siege; after many twists and turns of plot, the wife of the city’s Commandant intercedes with the head of the besieging force and brings about a reconciliation. With music includes many reminders of DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, FRIEDENSTAG is a good experience for an old Strauss-lover like me; however, it is somewhat weakened by an endless series of “finales”, as though Strauss did not know when to stop.

Continuing his highly successful evening, Donnie Ray Albert made a grand impression as the Commandant with his generous singing and imposing stature. I had very much been anticipating hearing Tamara Wilson as Maria, the Commandant’s wife, but when we arrived at Carnegie Hall, we found that she had canceled and was being replaced by Kirsten Chambers. A program-insert bio lists Ms. Chambers as the cover for both Isolde and Salome at The Met this season. Blonde, and clad in a bright red gown, the soprano unsparingly hurled herself into the demanding music of Maria, showing a voice of considerable thrust. If one top note was just shy of the mark, overall she managed well in a fiendish role, and saved the evening.

Bass Ricardo Lugo (above), as the opposing general, made a vibrant impression with his imposing voice and intrinsic sense of the drama. He was an excellent foil for Mr. Albert, and, between these two powerhouse voices, they kept our focus on the work keenly secured. Mr. Duffin, amplifying the forceful impression he had made in the Krenek, was back as the Burgomaster: one of his upper notes was sustained for an incredibly long time…I really don’t know how he did it!

FRIEDENSTAG has a number of small roles in which savvy interpreters are able to make their mark. I especially liked the clear sweetness of Scott Joiner’s tenor as a Piedontese soldier (he sang in Italian) and Carsten Wittmoser’s sturdy vocalism as a Musketeer. Tenor Doug Jones and baritone Steven Eddy (in a dual role) seized their chances and did very well, with baritones Steven Moore, Daniel Collins, and Benjamin Cohen contributing strongly.

In small vignettes, a number of chorus members stepped forward from time to time. One of these had a special meaning for me: Rachel Rosales, as a Woman of the People, is a soprano I heard lo! these many seasons ago as an exquisite Leila in LES PECHEURS DES PERLES at New York City Opera. I have seen her name listed among choral rosters before, and was feeling nostalgic when she intoned her brief, dramatic solo, a solo which made me think of Strauss’s writing for Die Amme in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN. In the finale tonight (the final finale), Ms. Rosales and other chorus sopranos sent some high notes sailing into the hall.

The Participating Artists:

American Symphony Orchestra

Leon Botstein, conductor

Bard Festival Chorale/James Bagwell, director

Ilana Davidson, Karen Chia-ling Ho and Kirsten Chambers, sopranos

Donnie Ray Albert and Steven Eddy, baritones

Mark Duffin, Scott Joiner and Doug Jones, tenors

Carsten Wittmoser, bass-baritone

Ricardo Lugo, bass

October 19, 2016
Lisette Oropesa @ Chamber Music Society
Tuesday October 18th, 2016 – Soprano Lisette Oropesa (above, photographed by Steven Harris) making her Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center debut in the opening concert of the Society’s 2016-2017 season.

The program commenced with a charming performance of Haydn’s ‘Surprise‘ symphony, and if the element of surprise in this very familiar work has long since evaporated, there was still a murmur of delight which passed thru the packed house when that ‘wake up!’ chord sounded. The symphony, a veritable fountain of melodic and rhythmic delights, was played by an ensemble of top-notch musicians: the kind of artists that maintain the Society’s impeccable standards.

With Michael Brown’s wonderfully attentive and polished playing of the Steinway setting the pace, we could relish the divine piping of Tara Helen O’Connor’s flute and a most pleasing mixture of swiftness and sweetness from Erin Keefe’s violin. Danbi Um, in a pretty forest-green frock, stood out in a brief mingling of voices with Ms. O’Connor flute – Danbi would have more expansive opportunities in the Palestrina/Mendelssohn combination after the interval. Of the lower voices, Richard O’Neill’s dusky viola sound and his deep involvement in the music are always most welcome; and though music stands blocked our view of Mihai Marica, his cello spoke clearly. This assemblage of musicians were as pleasing to watch as to hear, and they set the tone for the evening with their virtuosity and grace.

It seems incredible that ten years have passed since the voice of Lisette Oropesa first captured my imagination when she sang a very brief role in a performance of Mozart’s IDOMENEO at The Met. I immediately seized on the notion that this was a singer who would be going places, and she has proven me correct: her career has positively bloomed, and she moves from engagement to engagement, conquering audiences from Munich to Santa Fe, from Dallas to Madrid. Conductors tend to love her, as much for her vocal clarity and musicianship as for her preparedness and sunshine-filled personality.

Lisette walked onstage this evening in a midnight-blue gown, jewels at her neckline, superbly coiffed: the very picture of elegance. With the one-and-only Gilbert Kalish at the Steinway, the soprano proceeded to captivate the audience with her shimmering voice and rapturous delivery. All of the things I love about her singing were in abounding evidence tonight: the distinctive colour, the mastery of dynamics, the magical turns of phrase, the imaginative way with words. In three Mendelssohn songs – “Wanderlied“, “On the Wings of Song” and “Suleika” – Lisette cast a spell over the hall, and Mr. Kalish was a most valuable fellow sorcerer. Together, they created an atmosphere of fascination; and the audience’s enthusiastic response affirmed my feelings.

Soprano and pianist returned immediately, joined by David Schifrin; some Schifrin fans seated near me buzzed with anticipation. Following the brief piano introduction, the eminent clarinetist made a breathtaking entrance on the sustained tone that heralds Franz Schubert’s “Shepherd on the Rock“; moments later, Lisette began to sing and all seemed right with the world.

“Shepherd on the Rock” has the feeling of a bel canto scena. Passages of sustained lyricism give way to flights of coloratura, with voice and clarinet mingling in a way that reminds us a bit of the flute and soprano mix in Lucia di Lammermoor’s ‘Mad Scene’.

The singer must convey the moods of Schubert’s shepherd: his delight in hearing his own voice echo back to him from the valley, his tender longing for his sweetheart far away, and his optimism at the coming of Spring. All this Lisette accomplished with her intrinsic sensitivity to the narrative, finding an ideal give-and-take with her collaborators. The vocal writing here covers a wide range, from peaky top notes to some unusual plunges to the depths; Lisette had it all at her fingertips, and her voice once again spun a web of enchantment. She and the two gentlemen basked in the audience’s very cordial applause.

At a time when so many lyric-coloratura sopranos on the scene seem to me lacking in real distinction, Lisette shows us what a ‘vocal personality’ really is: it’s not just the sound, nor the technique, nor the communicative gifts; nor really anything to do with physical attractiveness. It’s a light from within, and that’s what sets Ms. Oropesa apart from the rest.

Following the intermission, David Finckel let us know that we’d be hearing an added work this evening: a Mendelssohn fugue would follow the brief and rare Palestrina piece we were about to hear. Mr. Finckel then joined Danbi Um, Erin Keefe, and Richard O’Neill to perform Palestrina’s ‘Sanctus’ from Missa Aeterna Christi Munera. The spiritual simplicity of the music, with its poignant beauty, was finely underscored by Mr. Finckel’s gently resonant cello.

After only a brief pause, the quartet gave us the Mendelssohn fugue: it is launched by Richard O’Neill’s velvety viola, taken up by Ms. Keefe and Ms. Um in turn, and then by the Finckel cello. This lovely work, perhaps too brief to be programmed often, displayed Danbi Um’s satin-sheened tone and the appealing expressive qualities of her playing.

We had reached that point in the evening where the final work loomed before us. With all that had gone before, what kind of finale could be devised that would cap the performance in a properly spectacular way? With their customary flair for programming, the Society had kept an ace up their sleeve, and within literally five seconds of Michael Brown’s introduction to the Ravel A-minor trio, I had goosebumps and a tingling spine. What playing from Mr. Brown and his colleagues, Ms. Keefe and Mr. Marica…simply astounding!

Ravel produced his only work in the piano-trio genre in a burst of fevered inspiration during the summer of 1914, as Europe’s armies mobilized for war. The result is one of Ravel’s most intense – yet still lyrical – works.

Michael Brown immediately established the atmosphere of the opening movement with his darkish, misterioso playing. Ms. Keefe and Mihai Marica were well-matched in beauty of timbre. A remarkable sustained tone from the cellist was followed by Ms. Keefe’s exquisite ascent to the heights: their perfumed mingling of voices gave me the chills. Simply ravishing passages in the upper reaches from the violin, and then the piano becomes more animated with a rising sense of drama. This subsides to a sweet cello theme; the players demonstrate fantastic pianissimo control. The violin goes deep, the piano quietens to a whisper. Spellbinding fade-away…an engrossing moment.

Immediately the mood shifts to bright and then lilting in the plucky second movement, featuring a rising motif and a skittishness that sets up a fun ending.

Mr. Brown’s left-handed piano introduction to the third movement hints at the ominous; Mr. Marica’s cello enters: pensive and low, whilst Ms. Keefe’s violin expresses a sense of yearning. In a hypnotic interlude, Mr. Brown drew me ever deeper into the mood with his incredibly intimate playing. The cello and then the violin re-enter; passion builds, and it’s sublime. Following a soft string duo, the cello sinks to the deep register, and the piano even deeper.

The finale commences high and buzzy, with a light, bright texture. All three musicians are simply sailing along, and a feeling of rapture develops. Ms. Keefe and Mr. Marica launch a series of trills that might go on forever; but then the swirls and eddies of melody sweep everything forward, to a simply gorgeous end. Such extraordinary playing of an extraordinary piece: the audience burst into eager applause, and the three musicians were called back for a second bow.

Marilyn Horne was in the audience tonight, bless her heart. And having Lisette Oropesa and Richard O’Neill on the same program gave me the notion of wanting to hear them together in William Bolcom’s Let Evening Come. This song cycle was composed for the beloved soprano Benita Valente, to whose voice Lisette’s bears a kinship; as a Met Young Artist, a decade ago, Lisette had an opportunity to work with Ms. Valente. I’ve been listening to Benita’s atmospheric recording, and now I’m really wanting to hear the Bolcom performed live.

The Repertory:
- Haydn Symphony in G major for Piano, Flute, Two Violins, Viola, and Cello, Hob. I:94, “Surprise” (1791)
- Mendelssohn Selected Songs for Soprano and Piano, Opp. 34 and 57 (1835-41)
- Schubert Der Hirt auf dem Felsen for Soprano, Clarinet, and Piano, D. 965, Op. 129 (1828)
- Palestrina Sanctus from Missa Aeterna Christi Munera (1590)
- Ravel Trio in A minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello (1914)
October 18, 2016
Recital: Violinist In Mo Yang

Above: violinist In Mo Yang

Tuesday September 27th, 2016 – In Mo Yang, a young violinist of Korean heritage, in recital with pianist Renana Gutman at Merkin Hall.

It’s only rarely that I do something really spontaneous; my schedule is always so full (and commitments made so far in advance) that there are seldom any opportunities to do things that haven’t been planned weeks in advance. But as I was researching something on the Merkin Hall website, I noticed a violin recital listed for this afternoon. The repertory looked very inviting and there were still a few tickets available, so I headed downtown. It was an impressive and thoroughly enjoyable concert in every regard.

In Mo Yang is the First Prize Winner of the Concert Artists Guild Competition. In 2015, he also earned First Prize at the 54th International Violin Competition “Premio Paganini” in Genoa, Italy, marking the first time since 2006 that the Paganini Competition jury has awarded the top prize.

In Mo Yong, in addition to a very impressive technique, has the gift of playing from the heart. After only a few measures of the opening Bach, I knew I was in the presence of a musician of the finest calibre; by the end of the recital, his name was hovering in my highest echelon of favorite musicians.

The forlorn beauty of the opening theme of the Adagio of Bach’s solo Violin Sonata No.1 in G minor immediately revealed the key elements of In Mo Yong’s playing: radiant and sweetly resonant tone, a mastery of dynamic finesse, innate expressiveness, and seamless phrasing. In the second movement, a minor-key dance, the violinist produced cascades of notes with admirable clarity. A sense of grace tinged with sadness marked his playing of the Siciliana, and in the final Presto, he reeled off reams of coloratura, perfectly defined and beautifully articulated, creating a magical atmosphere.

Pianist Renana Gutman then joined In Mo Yang for the violin sonata of Leoš Janáček. Ms. Gutman’s poised musicality and her attentiveness to details of phrasing were a great boon for the young violinist.

As In Mo Yang noted in his remarks, the flow of lyricism in this Janáček work is constantly interrupted by injections of turbulence or wit. There was a wondrous immediacy to the playing of the two musicians, drawing us in to the many felicities of this quite extraordinary piece. The opening Con moto found the violinist’s passion well met by the pianist’s sense of rapture, right from the outset. In the Ballada that follows, the shimmering piano sets off the singing violin. Sustained beauty of tone as the music’s passion soars, then sinks into a delicate reverie. In Mo Yang ended this movement on an exquisitely sustained, evaporating high note.

In the Allegretto, the music is agitated and pensive by turns; these the mood swings were well-captured by our two players. The concluding Adagio begins hesitantly; then an enchanting melody looms up, only to stall and then re-start. A vibrant theme over glimmering piano leads to alternating passages of agitation and calm before the piece reaches its hushed ending. Splendid playing from In Mo Yang and Ms. Gutman: a really impressive performance.

Karol Szymanowski’s setting of three ‘Paganini’ caprices followed the interval. The first, in D-major, features a high, sweet melody which gives way to an energetic passage before returning to its initial mood. In Mo Yang’s lingering final note was a moment of pure poetry. The second caprice, in A-major, begins in a state of musical density. The violin ascends to a high, aching theme which increases in passion; here In Mo Yang’s mastery of control in the stratospheric register was so evocative. The most familiar of the three caprices, the A-minor, is loaded at first with brisk, swirling motifs. Its sparkle and ironic wit suddenly go deep and mysterious, then things get playful, and then dreamy. This traversal of moods was finely differentiated by the two musicians. After some dazzlingly ping-y plucking from the violin, there’s a false ending; In Mo Yang then ascends again to the high, hazy glow of his upper range before charging on with Ms. Gutman to the grand finale.

All of the qualities that make Felix Mendelssohn one of my favorite composers were evidenced in his violin sonata in F major, written and premiered in 1838. It was not published in the composer’s lifetime, but was ‘rescued’ in 1953 by Yehudi Menuhin, who accordingly tinkered with it before having it published.

After a gallant piano introduction opens the Allegro vivace, a pulsing motif develops as the piano and violin alternately switch from melody to rhythm. Charming variants of major and minor keys – and a lovely sense of Mendelssohnian flow – gave me a lot of listening pleasure.

Ms. Gutman sounds a low song which the violin takes up as the central Adagio casts its spell. Such expressive playing here; and then the music sails forward. And yet again, the heart-rending quality of In Mo Yang’s upper-range playing was a marvel.

Joyous flights of fancy abound in the concluding Assai vivace, the players shifting effortlessly between liveliness and subtlety. With stunning dexterity, In Mo Yang reveled in high-velocity playing here that filled me with smiling admiration.

Sheer gorgeousness to end the afternoon: a Karl Schumann romance was offered as an encore: exceptional playing with a high emotional value.

September 27, 2016
Joshua Bell @ Mostly Mozart

Above: violinist Joshua Bell

Wednesday August 17th, 2016 – Geffen Hall was packed to the rafters for Mostly Mozart tonight: all the stage seats were taken, and there was a line for ticket returns: could it have had something to do with Joshua Bell being the scheduled soloist? Mr. Bell certainly impressed in his performance of Mozart’s 4th violin concerto, and the program overall was highly enjoyable.

Any hearing of Felix Mendelssohn’s overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream is bound to summon up visions of Balanchine’s enchanted forest – it’s quite amazing, in fact, when you think of the amount of narrative and dancing Mr. B was able to fit into this 12-minute overture, without ever for a moment seeming over-busy. The Mostly Mozart Orchestra coped well with the brisk tempi set by the youthful-looking conductor, Matthew Halls, and it was so much sheer fun to hear these familiar themes played live again. I must mention Jon Manasse’s lovingly-phrased clarinet solo.

Joshua Bell then appeared to a warm greeting from the crowd. In this rendering of the Mozart violin concerto #4 in D-major, the violinist and the conductor formed a steady rapport. Unobtrusively using a score, Mr. Bell launched the solo line in the stratosphere and went on to play the Allegro vivace‘s capricious music with easy aplomb. There’s a lot of high-velocity coloratura in play here, and it culminates with a florid, witty cadenza of Mr. Bell’s own design.

On a high, sweetly sustained note, Mr. Bell lures us into the Andante cantabile; the melody eventually dips into a lower range where his playing a balm to the ear. An elegant ‘interlude’ has a different sort of appeal; then the main theme recurs, before the violinist ascends to another high-lying cadenza.

After an elegant start, the Rondeau turns sprightly – a delicate mini-cadenza teases us and then there’s another more extended cadenza. The soloist joins the massed violins in a sort of chorale, and Mr. Bell continues to seize opportunities for yet two more cadenzas, the first having an ironic buzzing quality.

As ever, Mr. Bell’s physically engaged playing is as enjoyable to watch as to hear. The random smudged note here or there was nothing to deter from the ongoing sweep of his music-making, and though I agreed with my companion that the cadenzas sometimes seemed rather too ‘modern’, they gave the performance an individuality that was refreshing in its own right.

Beethoven’s overture to Coriolan, Op. 62, was the composer’s first opportunity to write for the stage, and his success has kept the overture in the repertory. Originally conceived as a prelude to the play of the same title by the composer’s friend Heinrich Joseph von Collin – a theatrical success in Vienna in 1802 – the overture didn’t appear until 1807, when the play’s popularity had waned. It seems that only one performance of the play with Beethoven’s overture took place: on April 17th, 1807. After that, the eight-minute overture went on to thrive as a concert number.

This evening’s performance was finely-wrought by Maestro Halls, and most attractively played. The contrasting themes of anger and tenderness express the theme of the play: the betrayal of his duty as a Roman general by Coriolanus, and his mother’s entreaties to abandon his plan to lead the enemy forces in an attack on Rome. Her pleading is effective: Coriolanus abandons his scheme and faces his punishment.

A warm and appealing performance of Beethoven’s “little” symphony – the 8th – concluded the evening on an optimistic note. The last time I heard this symphony performed live was in December 2013 when the Spanish conductor Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos, then in his 80th year, led the New York Philharmonic in the work and left my friend Dmitry and I with wonderful memories of the highly-respected Maestro, who passed away in June 2014. We still speak of that Philharmonic concert with special affection.

Timed at around twenty-five minutes, this four-movement symphony flies by: there’s no adagio to make us stop and ponder, but rather a charming and often witty flow of themes with the congeniality of dance rhythms ever-ready to buoy the spirit.

A lively podium presence, Maestro Halls was well in his element here, and the musicians seemed fully engaged in this music which successfully blends elegance with folkish gaiety. The horns sounded plush, and again Mr. Manasse made his mark: an outstanding musician.

August 17, 2016
The Illuminated Heart @ Mostly Mozart

Above: Maestro Louis Langrée, surrounded by members of the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra; photo © Jennifer Taylor

Tuesday July 26th, 2016 – Opera director and video artist Netia Jones has created The Illuminated Heart, a program of arias and ensembles from Mozart’s operas performed live in a multi-media installation with video projections: this was the opening offering of the 2016 Mostly Mozart Festival. The Festival’s well-loved music director, Louis Langrée, presided over the 90-minute evening (presented without intermission) marking the 50th anniversary of Mostly Mozart.

The Mostly Mozart musicians were in the pit and the Geffen Hall stage was taken up by a large, white, simple room. Imaginative projections – including fanciful flights of birds during Papageno’s aria – filled the space, and English translations of the pieces being sung moved unobtrusively across the rear wall. As Maestro Langrée led a lively NOZZE DI FIGARO overture, “Susanna” appeared, removing dust-covers from stage furnishings and polishing up. Fortuntely, no attempt was made to turn the random operatic selections into a narrative, as the Met did so tediously with THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. Each solo, duet, or ensemble was done as a free-standing set piece, the singers costumed in a ‘timeless’ style.

Following the overture, things got off to a rather raw start: the voices seemed very harsh (I almost thought they were being miked) and there was a feeling of relentlessness to the singing, with little elegance or refinement to be heard. Nadine Sierra, singing Susanna to Peter Mattei’s Almaviva in the Act I NOZZE duet, wore a dress that made her look pregnant. Christopher Maltman, in Papageno’s Act I aria, seemed to be auditioning for Wotan: more than ample sound, to be sure, but lacking in charm. The Act I finale of COSI FAN TUTTE doesn’t play well out of context.

Ms. Sierra sang the ‘rarest’ work of the evening: “Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben” from ZAIDE. She has the right feeling for the music, and did some attractive soft singing, but to me she often seems to hover just a bit sharp of the pitch.

Ana Maria Martinez’s performance of “Mi tradi” from DON GIOVANNI signaled the start of a progression of four arias that formed the vocal centerpiece of the evening. Ms. Martinez’s voice has a nice weight for this music, and she was able to carry off the more florid passages with assurance whilst bringing dramatic urgency to her singing.

New to me was the distinctive voice of Marianne Crebassa (above); this comely French-born mezzo-soprano gave a performance of “Parto, parto” from LA CLEMENZA DI TITO that could stand comfortably beside such wonderful versions of this aria as those of Teresa Berganza, Tatiana Troyanos, Anne Sofie von Otter, and Elina Garanca. Ms. Crebassa’s timbre is unique, with a nice duskiness in the lower range, and she sailed thru the coloratura passages with deft surety. Matching the mezzo in expression and poised musical embroidery was the excellent clarinetist Jon Manasse.

Simply superb: Peter Mattei (above) sang Count Almaviva’s “Hai gia vinto la causa…” from NOZZE with plush, commanding sound and vivid dramatic inflections, handling the speedy passage-work as the aria rushes to its close with aplomb. A masterful performance!

Matthew Polenzani (above) gave the evening’s most moving singing with his heartfelt “Dalla sua pace” from DON GIOVANNI. Kneeling at the back of the performing space, Polenzani sang with great tenderness and refinement; his touching command of piano nuances, and his wonderfully sincere rendering of the words made for a spell-binding performance. His Idomeneo at The Met cannot get here soon enough. Bravo, bravo, bravo…

Ms. Martinez and mezzo-soprano Daniela Mack sounded fine in the COSI trio, “Soave sia il vento”, but it was Mr. Mattei’s singing as Don Alfonso that dominated: so rich, firm, and lovingly phrased. An ensemble from CLEMENZA – nicely sung by Christine Goerke, Mlles. Sierra and Crebassa, and Mr. Polenzani – seemed a bit aimless out of context. Moving immediately into Elettra’s aria might have made things seem more cohesive, but instead Ms. Goerke remained onstage, pondering, whilst Mr. Maltman popped out – wine bottle in hand – to sing Don Giovanni’s vigorous “Finch’an del vino”.

Ms. Goerke then came forward for Elettra’s “O smania, O furie!” Her vivid declamation was spot on, and she brilliantly conveyed the character’s dementia in “‘Oreste, D’Ajace”. But the voice tightens as she goes higher up, and so the effect of this mad scene’s climax was somewhat compromised.

Everyone joined in for the NOZZE DI FIGARO finale,including soprano Kiera Duffy, who had had no real opportunity to shine vocally in the course of the evening.

Overall, The Illuminated Heart worked quite well. I would have chosen some slightly different pieces, and maybe slightly different singers, and would have included a basso to sing one of Sarastro’s arias. The 90-minute time-span, without intermission, was ideal. Mr. Maestro Langrée’s propulsive pacing and the swift staging transformations from one number to the next made the concert fly by.

July 26, 2016