Category: Opera

Raina Kabaivanska as Amelia Grimaldi

Above: soprano Raina Kabaivanska

Teatro All Scala gave a two-week season at The Kennedy Center in Washington DC in September 1976, a highlight of the Center’s Bicentennial Celebration. The performances marked La Scala’s first appearance in the United States with an exclusive engagement at the Opera House. The repertory: Verdi’s Macbeth, starring mezzo-soprano Shirley Verrett, La Bohème, La Cenerentola, and Simon Boccanegra.

By chance, I happened to catch a broadcast of the Boccanegra and recorded a bit of it, despite some radio interference from a late summer storm. Raina Kabaivanska sang Amelia, Piero Cappuccilli was Simon Boccanegra, and Claudio Abbado conducted.

Here is the beautiful ‘recognition’ duet, where Simon is re-united with his long-lost daughter:

BOCCANEGRA duet – Kabaivanska & Cappuccilli – Scala at Washington DC – 1976

March 29, 2017
Patricia Brooks as Violetta

I’ve seen more than a eighty different sopranos in the title-role of Verdi’s TRAVIATA over the years. Patricia Brooks’s interpretation of the role of Violetta in Frank Corsaro’s memorable production for the New York City Opera in 1966, with Placido Domingo as Alfredo, remains at the top of the list. Employing her rather slender and agile voice to optimum effect, she created a portrait of the doomed courtesan that has resonated over the decades. Paradoxically feverish and fragile, Brooks moved audiences – literally – to tears.

Listening again, nearly fifty years on, to my in-house recording of the Act I scena brings back a flood of memories of the myriad nuances – both vocal and dramatic – that gave the Brooks Violetta its unique place in the opera’s performance history.

One thing about Ms. Brooks in this role: she was forever making tiny changes in both her singing and her acting of the role, maintaining its freshness over the half-dozen times I saw her in the role. As Matthew Epstein, a great Brooks admirer, said: “No two Brooks Violettas are alike!”

Patricia Brooks as Violetta – w Molese – NYCO – 9~28~69

There were other Violettas who moved and thrilled me, but none quite reached the soul of the desperate woman who sacrifices her own happiness so that someone else may be happy.

March 27, 2017
The First Time I Heard GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG

Above: American bass-baritone Ralph Herbert

Still being held captive by the evil sorceress Sciatica, I decided I needed a different “front page” article for my blog.

Coming randomly upon an excerpt from Act II of Wagner’s GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG – from my premiere encounter with that opera – I was taken back over the decades to a wintry afternoon in January, 1962, when I heard Wagner’s “grand finale of the RING Cycle” for the very first time. At age fourteen, I had already been an opera-lover for three years when the complete RING was broadcast via the Texaco-Metropolitan Opera Radio Network.

I never missed a Texaco matinee in the first 20 or so years of my operatic ‘career’, my first one having been Sutherland’s “debut season” LUCIA broadcast. I would sit alone in the family rec room, and no one was allowed to disturb me; the phone was taken off the hook. Once in a great while, if a particular opera was not grabbing my attention, my grandmother and I would play Honeymoon Bridge as the sun went down. We always loved Milton Cross’s narration of the curtain calls.

The RING Cycle of course became a great favorite work of mine over time; but at first, allured as was by by BUTTERFLY, TROVATORE, and GIOCONDA, it wasn’t easy to comprehend.

RHEINGOLD was not very accessible for me: too much “male” singing. I did better with DIE WALKÜRE, in part because the story had more meaning for me, and three singers I already knew and liked – Birgit Nilsson, Gladys Kuchta, and Jon Vickers – had leading roles. Hearing Milton Cross describe the final scene of WALKÜRE prompted me to go out into the field behind our house and make a circle of empty boxes, newspapers, etc on the snow-covered ground. I set it afire in four different places and then realized I was in the middle of the ring.

SIEGFRIED was something of a trial, at least until Jean Madeira (Erda) and Birgit Nilsson (Brunnhilde) started to sing. I remember liking the Norn Scene from GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG quite a bit, wherein Madeira was joined by Irene Dalis and Martina Arroyo; and the Dawn Duet was fun, thanks to Birgit’s lightning bolt high-C, but my mind began to wander during much of the rest of Act I, re-engaging when Nilsson and Irene Dalis met as the sundered Valkyrie sisters.

Above: bass Gottlob Frick

I can remember distinctly being drawn into the mystery of the opening of Act II, especially as Milton Cross had described Alberich’s dreamlike appearance to his slumbering son, Hagen, sung by Gottlob Frick, who over the ensuing years has always been my idea of a great Wagner basso.

In this eerie scene, Mr. Frick is joined by baritone Ralph Herbert as Alberich:

Ralph Herbert & Gottlob Frick – Götterdämmerung ~ Act II Scene 1 – Met 1962 – Leinsdorf cond

Of course, Birgit’s Immolation Scene was exciting, though at the time it seemed too long; now it sometimes seems too short.

Erich Leinsdorf conducted this RING Cycle; a grand master of the Wagner repertoire, he had made his Met debut in 1938 (!) conducting WALKÜRE with Flagstad as Brunnhilde and Elizabeth Rethberg as Sieglinde, and made his farewell to The Met in 1983, conducting ARABELLA with Dame Kiri Te Kanawa. In all, Leinsdorf led nearly 500 performances for The Met, both at home and on tour.

It was fun coming across the Opera News cast page (above) for this particular broadcast, and to see that Ms. Dalis had sent me an autographed copy of the same head-shot used in the magazine:

And here are Nilsson and Dalis in final part of the scene where Waltraute has asked Brunnhilde to give up the ring. It begins with Brunnhilde’s “Welch’ banger Träume Mären meldest du Traurige mir!” (“What tales of tortured dreams do you tell in such distress?”)

Götterdämmerung ~ Birgit Nilsson & Irene Dalis – Leinsdorf cond – Met 1962

Recalling those first few seasons of broadcasts, I remember one of my grandmother’s great comeback lines. Sutherland was singing Amina in SONNAMBULA and at the end of “Sovra il sen” I said: “Grandma, Joan Sutherland just hit E-flat above high-C!” “That’s nothin’…” she retorted, “…once I got up to P and held it all night!”

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I’m sorry not to be attending performances at this time, and blogging about them; hopefully I will become more mobile in the next few days, and start venturing out. I appreciate everyone continuing to visit Oberon’s Grove and finding things to read.

March 18, 2017
Celebrating Alan Gilbert’s 50th Birthday

Thursday February 23rd, 2017 – An array of stars from the classical music firmament were on hand to celebrate the 50th birthday of The New York Philharmonic‘s Music Director Alan Gilbert. Click on the above photo to enlarge.

“Life begins at 50!”…at least it did for me: the life I’d always hoped to live, here in New York City with my beloved, with everything I enjoy – music, dance, art, food, a nearby park – at my fingertips, and good friends to share things with. Alan Gilbert’s tenure as Music Director coincides with my own embrace of The Philharmonic. I would go once in a while during the Mehta-Boulez-Masur-Maazel years, but in recent seasons I have rarely missed a program; I have become an admirer of several of the orchestra’s musicians, and of Alan’s leadership. He’ll soon be embarking on a new phase of his career, and so it was truly pleasing to be there tonight, joining with the stellar party guests onstage to salute the Maestro.

The first half of the evening was devoted to music of the Three Bs: Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms. After welcoming speeches, Alan Gilbert strode out to a warm greeting from the packed house. Paolo Bordignon was at the harpsichord as Pamela Frank and Frank Huang took up the opening Vivace of Bach’s Concerto for Two Violins in D minor, BWV 1043, playing with festive vitality. Pamela Frank was then joined by Joshua Bell for the Largo ma non tanto, and how beautifully their timbres blended: deeply satisfying music-making. I’d hoped Alan Gilbert might play tonight, but the third movement of the Bach brought forth Lisa Batiashvili and Mr. Huang in the vivacious Allegro.

I think this was the first time I have heard this piece outside of its ballet setting: Balanchine’s masterpiece CONCERTO BAROCCO is frequently given across the Plaza. Throughout tonight’s concert rendering, the choreography danced in my head.

Phenomenal back-to-back performances by two of the world’s great pianists followed: Emanuel Ax cast a magic spell over the music of Brahms: the Andante from the 2nd piano concerto. How gently Mr. Ax caressed this music, and how poignant was the sound of Carter Brey’s cello in his long solo passage. The cello returns near the end of the movement as Mr. Ax plays a series of delicate trills.

Yefim Bronfman then took command of the Steinway in a thrillingly virtuosic Allegro con brio from Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3. With some wonderful interjections from the Philharmonic’s wind soloists along the way, the pianist brought both passion and nuance to his playing. As his spectacular rendering of the cadenza drew to its close on a series of gossamer trills, the orchestra re-entered creating an exquisite sense of quietude.

Joshua Bell’s fiery playing and unbridled physicality evoked the audience’s rousing ovation for his performance of the Allegro energico from Max Bruch’s first violin concerto. Moments later, a very different aspect of Mr. Bell’s artistry was gorgeously evidenced as he joined Renée Fleming for Richard Strauss’s “Morgen!“; the warmth of the soprano’s voice and the silken serenity of Mr. Bell’s phrasing created a tranquil atmosphere, like basking in sunlight on some distant seashore.

Ms. Fleming then gave one of her trademark arias, “Marietta’s Lied” from Erich Korngold’s DIE TOTE STADT; the song’s romance and mystery were conveyed by the soprano in the high-rising arcs of the vocal line over a dreamlike orchestration that features harp, piano, and celesta. The music becomes passionate; then the singer speaks a couple of lines, as she tries to recall the words of the second verse. Once again the haunting melody is sung, followed by an evocative postlude. Intoxicating moments.

Lisa Batiashvili offered “Goin’ Home“, the ‘spiritual’ that was drawn from the principal theme of the Largo of Antonin Dvořák’s New World symphony, arranged by Fritz Kreisler, and adapted by T. Batiashvili. This was played with rich emotion and lovely tone by the comely Ms. Batiashvili; the only problem is that the song is quite brief, leaving us craving more Batiashvili.

Gershwin’s An American in Paris, a favorite work of Alan Gilbert’s, was the closing work of the evening; not my cup of tea, but of course superbly played.

Frock watch: being a party night, the women of the Philharmonic did not all wear regulation black; Cynthia Phelps looked radiant in a “gamorous” slit-skirt emerald green number. Pamela Frank wore a black gown shot with silver, and be-jeweled shoes which would have made Cinderella envious. Lisa Batiashvili, ever the picture of elegance, wore a sleek, satiny gun-metal creation with a hint of Grecian style. And Renée Fleming looked every inch the diva in vermilion with a long golden shawl.

Renée led us in singing ‘Happy Birthday, Dear Alan’ with the standing audience saluting the conductor and everyone singing full-voice. Maestro Gilbert basked in the embraces of the great musicians who had gathered to honor him; then they all seemed to be heading off together to continue the party into the wee hours as Alan waved goodbye to the crowd.

February 23, 2017
Peter Meven

Operatic basso Peter Meven was born in Cologne, Germany in 1929. After training at his hometown, he sang at Hagen, Mainz, and Wiesbaden before joining the Rheinoper, Düsseldorf, in 1964, where he remained a member of the ensemble for over 30 years until his retirement in 1994. He also sang frequently at the Staatsoper, Vienna, from 1972 to 1989, and he made numerous recordings.

Peter Meven passed away in August 2003 at his residence in the Eifel.

Peter Meven – Ich weiss ein wildes Geschlecht ~ WALKURE – Dusseldorf 1974

February 21, 2017
YCA Presents Samuel Hasselhorn

Wednesday February 15th, 2017 – Baritone Samuel Hasselhorn (above) presented by Young Concert Artists in recital at Merkin Hall. With Renate Rohlfing at the Steinway, the evening was a definitive success for both the tall singer and his lovely, expressive pianist. The imaginative program, which included both the familiar and the rare, was both beautifully sung and emotionally engaging.

In my 50+ years of recital-going, baritones have invariably giving me lasting memories: Wolfgang Holzmair, Dmitri Hvorstovsky, the two Thomases (Allen and Hampson), Bo Skovhus, Matthias Goerne, Sanford Sylvan, Kurt Ollmann, Christopheren Nomura, Randall Scarlata, Keith Phares, John Michael Moore, David Won, Shenyang, Thomas Cannon – their voices echo in the mind and heart. Mr. Hasselhorn now joins that distinguished list.

In their opening Schumann set, Mr. Hasselhorn and Ms. Rohlfing explored a wide range of moods: from the urgency of Tragödie I and the pensive resignation of Tragödie II, they progressed to the vivid narrative of Belsazar (Mr. Hasselhorn operatically powerful, with Ms. Rohlfing excelling), and the rather unusual Mein wagen rollet langsam. The effect of the defeat of Napoleon on two of his faithful foot-soldiers was marvelously depicted in song by Mr. Hasselhorn in Die beiden Grenadiere, with its sounding of the Marseillaise. Passionate desire fills Lehn’ deine Wang, and the contrasts of poetic and turbulent love were superbly expressed by baritone and pianist in Du bist wie eine Blume and Es leuchtet meine liebe, the latter ending with Ms. Rohlfing’s finely-played postlude.

In charmingly accented and very clear English, Mr. Hasselhorn delighted us with Britten’s ironic Oliver Cromwell and The foggy, foggy dew. The singer’s exceptional control was manifested in his poignant rendering of O waly, waly with Ms. Rohlfing giving tender support. A long comic Britten narrative, The Crocodile, ended the evening’s first half.

Addressing the audience before commencing the evening’s second half, Mr. Hasselhorn spoke of the woes of our planet today, thrown into further chaos by recent events. The plight of refugees worldwide, and the threats posed by war and terrorism to a hopeful humanity prompted the baritone to devise a set of works especially meaningful to him on a personal level; these he now offered to us with singing of real sincerity and depth of feeling.

The juxtaposition of Hugo Wolf’s madly dramatic Die Feuerreiter (‘The Fireman’) and Franz Schubert’s haunting Litanei auf das Allerseelen (‘Litany for All-Saints’) was a masterstroke of programming beyond anything I’ve ever experienced in a recital. The fierceness and wild desperation of the Wolf was memorably contrasted with the sublime prayer for peace penned by Schubert. Mr. Hasselhorn and Ms. Rohlfing were simply thrilling: the pianist in a virtuoso rendering of the Wolf whilst the singer’s urgency in the narrative reached a feverish level. By contrast, the Schubert was heart-rending in its lyricism and spirituality. By taking only a brief pause between these two, our two artists cast a veritable spell over the house.

Above: pianist Renate Rohlfing

Three Poulenc songs, reflections on the Nazi occupation of Paris, showed the Hasselhorn/Rohlfing partnership at its most persuasive. The pre-dawn removal of (fictional) freedom-fighter André Platard in La disparu, a prayer to the Virgin in Priez pour pays (the pianist truly sublime here), and the return from the front of an exhausted sergeant in Le retour de sergent made a triptych – painted in the inimitable Poulenc style – which perfectly encapsulates a specific time and place.

The singer and pianist then sent chills thru me with the devastating emotional power of their performance of Schubert’s Erlkönig. Mr. Hasselhorn summoned up the three contrasting characters of the narrative with subtle rather than overly-theatrical variants of tone-colour – simply splendid singing! – and Ms. Rohlfing gave the piano’s role, with its contrast of relentlessness, desperation, and cruel seduction, full rein. A luminously intense performance.

In the brief Wanderers Nachtlied II, poetry seeped gently into the air from Ms. Rohlfing’s keyboard, to be handsomely taken up by Mr. Hasselhorn like a benediction. Lingering on the heights of expressiveness, singer and pianist brought me to tears with the poignant song of Der blinde kind (‘The Blind Boy’), a youth who refuses to wallow in self-pity over his affliction. Mr. Hasselhorn’s gestures, stance, and expressive features portrayed the boy’s physical and emotional state movingly, evoking understanding rather than pity: such a touching song, superbly rendered.

Schubert’s last song, Die taubenpost (‘The carrier-pigeon’), seems like a simple avowal of young love as the poet sends his trusty pigeon bearing messages to his beloved. The pigeon’s name Sehnsucht – that magical word for ‘longing’ – and he is the messenger of fidelity. For those of us who love from afar, the song takes on a sweet depth of meaning. True to all that has gone before, Mr. Hasselhorn and Ms. Rohlfing were perfect here. Their encore, the blessed An die musik (‘To Music’), served as a summarizing of this exceptional evening of song.

I shall hope to hear Mr. Hasselhorn here in New York City again soon; how I should love to hear his voice in Schumann’s Dichterliebe! It also seems to me that there are many operatic roles in which he could shine at The Met. For this evening, I again express gratitude to Susan Wadsworth and Young Concert Artists for bringing us another in their series of exemplary recitals.

February 15, 2017
Renata Scotto’s “Ah! non giunge”

At the end of October 1972, Renata Scotto was alternating performances of Amina in SONNAMBULA and the title-role of LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR at The Met. I came down from Syracuse NY to see her as Amina on a Thursday night and her Lucia two nights later. Her tenor co-stars were Nicolai Gedda (Elvino) and Alfredo Kraus (Edgardo). The diva scored back-to-back triumphs.

SONNAMBULA ends with Amina’s joyous cabaletta “Ah! non giunge”. Scotto, having held a rapt audience in the palm of her hand throughout the opera, now came down past the prompter’s box to the very edge of the stage and sang directly to us. As the second verse progressed, the house lights were slowly raised to full brightness; and so, in the end, singer and audience were “…uniti in una speme.“

Scotto sings ‘Ah non giunge!’ – SONNAMBULA – Met 10~28~72(1)

February 14, 2017
Back at the Ballet

Wednesday January 25th, 2017 – I haven’t been to a New York City Ballet performance since Jennie Somogyi’s farewell in 2015, but I keep running into the dancers and am constantly reminded of how much I miss watching them dance. A few weeks ago, on a whim, I ordered a ticket for tonight’s all-Balanchine program, before casting was announced. A domestic surprise – a nice one – called me home early: I missed FOUR TEMPERAMENTS tonight. But I greatly enjoyed seeing ALLEGRO BRILLANTE and the Balanchine SWAN LAKE again.

On entering the theater lobby, I was very happy to see that The Lyre has been restored to a place of honor. Once seated, I watched the musicians warming up while the theater filled slowly. I was not feeling the old sense of anticipation, and I was not sure if my idea of re-connecting with NYCB was making sense: perhaps it’s a chapter best left closed?

But then the house lights went down; pianist Susan Walters and conductor Andrew Litton entered the pit for ALLEGRO BRILLANTE and suddenly it felt right to be there. This was my first experience of having Andrew Litton on the podium; the orchestra – apart from a random note or two going astray in SWAN LAKE – played the big Tchaikovsky themes sumptuously. Ms. Walters did a beautiful job with ALLEGRO BRILLANTE; and later in the evening, concertmaster Arturo Delmoni played a ravishing White Swan solo.

Tiler Peck was originally listed for ALLEGRO BRILLANTE, but a pre-curtain announcement informed us that Megan Fairchild would be dancing instead. I was pleased with this announcement, as I’d become quite an admirer of Ms. Fairchild over time; I was curious to see how the Fairchild/Veyette partnership would work under the circumstances, but they are both professionals and carried it off in fine style. Megan’s dancing had a lovely lyrical feeling, and I began to realize how very much I have missed her dancing over the past several months.

When the swans made their entry in the Balanchine SWAN LAKE, it really sank in just how long I’d been away: hardly a familiar ballerina in sight. There was a time when I knew every single person in the Company and could scan a large group of corps dancers with my opera glasses and see one friendly face after another. Tonight the girls seemed beautifully anonymous; I wonder who among them might captivate me as Rebecca Krohn and Ashley Laracey had once done, right from their first performances with the Company?

The soloists, Megan LeCrone and Lauren King, both danced very well. Teresa Reichlen and Russell Janzen created a true sense of poetry and ill-fated romance in their partnership. Russell looks the epitome of a romantic hero: his sense of wonder at finding this fragile creature by the lake, and his desire to protect and cherish her were beautifully expressed. Tess was an elegant Swan Queen, terrified at first and only slowly surrendering to the calming effects of Russell’s care. The two long-limbed dancers make a striking couple, and their ardent tenderness mirrored the music ideally. They were rapturously applauded, and called out for an extra bow.

In ALLEGRO BRILLANTE, I was particularly impressed by the dancing of the supporting ensemble of eight dancers; Balanchine gives them plenty to do, and they all looked superb. These are dancers I followed closely back in my days as an NYCB regular, and it was really good to see them all again, looking so attractive and dancing with such assurance and grace: Megan Johnson, Meagan Mann, Gretchen Smith, Lydia Wellington, Devin Alberda, Daniel Applebaum, Cameron Dieck, and Aaron Sanz. Watching them, I was keenly aware of what I’ve been missing.

January 26, 2017
Back at the Ballet

Wednesday January 25th, 2017 – I haven’t been to a New York City Ballet performance since Jennie Somogyi’s farewell in 2015, but I keep running into the dancers and am constantly reminded of how much I miss watching them dance. A few weeks ago, on a whim, I ordered a ticket for tonight’s all-Balanchine program, before casting was announced. A domestic surprise – a nice one – called me home early: I missed FOUR TEMPERAMENTS tonight. But I greatly enjoyed seeing ALLEGRO BRILLANTE and the Balanchine SWAN LAKE again.

On entering the theater lobby, I was very happy to see that The Lyre has been restored to a place of honor. Once seated, I watched the musicians warming up while the theater filled slowly. I was not feeling the old sense of anticipation, and I was not sure if my idea of re-connecting with NYCB was making sense: perhaps it’s a chapter best left closed?

But then the house lights went down; pianist Susan Walters and conductor Andrew Litton entered the pit for ALLEGRO BRILLANTE and suddenly it felt right to be there. This was my first experience of having Andrew Litton on the podium; the orchestra – apart from a random note or two going astray in SWAN LAKE – played the big Tchaikovsky themes sumptuously. Ms. Walters did a beautiful job with ALLEGRO BRILLANTE; and later in the evening, concertmaster Arturo Delmoni played a ravishing White Swan solo.

Tiler Peck was originally listed for ALLEGRO BRILLANTE, but a pre-curtain announcement informed us that Megan Fairchild would be dancing instead. I was pleased with this announcement, as I’d become quite an admirer of Ms. Fairchild over time; I was curious to see how the Fairchild/Veyette partnership would work under the circumstances, but they are both professionals and carried it off in fine style. Megan’s dancing had a lovely lyrical feeling, and I began to realize how very much I have missed her dancing over the past several months.

When the swans made their entry in the Balanchine SWAN LAKE, it really sank in just how long I’d been away: hardly a familiar ballerina in sight. There was a time when I knew every single person in the Company and could scan a large group of corps dancers with my opera glasses and see one friendly face after another. Tonight the girls seemed beautifully anonymous; I wonder who among them might captivate me as Rebecca Krohn and Ashley Laracey had once done, right from their first performances with the Company?

The soloists, Megan LeCrone and Lauren King, both danced very well. Teresa Reichlen and Russell Janzen created a true sense of poetry and ill-fated romance in their partnership. Russell looks the epitome of a romantic hero: his sense of wonder at finding this fragile creature by the lake, and his desire to protect and cherish her were beautifully expressed. Tess was an elegant Swan Queen, terrified at first and only slowly surrendering to the calming effects of Russell’s care. The two long-limbed dancers make a striking couple, and their ardent tenderness mirrored the music ideally. They were rapturously applauded, and called out for an extra bow.

In ALLEGRO BRILLANTE, I was particularly impressed by the dancing of the supporting ensemble of eight dancers; Balanchine gives them plenty to do, and they all looked superb. These are dancers I followed closely back in my days as an NYCB regular, and it was really good to see them all again, looking so attractive and dancing with such assurance and grace: Megan Johnson, Meagan Mann, Gretchen Smith, Lydia Wellington, Devin Alberda, Daniel Applebaum, Cameron Dieck, and Aaron Sanz. Watching them, I was keenly aware of what I’ve been missing.

January 25, 2017
Clarinet Trios @ Chamber Music Society
Tuesday January 24th, 2017 – Cellist Alisa Weilerstein, clarinetist Anthony McGill, and pianist Inon Barnatan sharing the Alice Tully Hall stage in a program of piano trios presented by Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Beloved works by Beethoven and Brahms book-ended the New York premiere of Short Stories for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano by Joseph Hallman. The presence of three such superb artists on the program signaled this as a red-letter event in the current season; I’d been looking forward to this evening for months, and it truly surpassed expectations.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A thought that recurred to me frequently during the evening was: if Mozart had met McGill, Amadeus would have written DIE ZAUBERKLARINETTE.
- Beethoven Trio in B-flat major for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano, Op. 11 (1797)
- Hallman Short Stories for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano (CMS Co-Commission) (New York premiere) (2016)
- Brahms Trio in A minor for Clarinet, Cello, and Piano, Op. 114 (1891)
January 24, 2017