I love discovering singers I’d never previously heard…or even heard of.
The German mezzo-soprano Ute Walther (above) made her operatic debut as Octavian at Staatstheater Schwerin in 1968. From 1980, she was a leading artist with the Dresden State Opera.
Her roles included Dorabella, Cherubino, Strauss’s Composer, Wagner’s Fricka, Waltraute, Brangäne, Magdalene, Mary, and Ortrud; Hansel, Carmen, Prince Orlofsky, and Verdi’s Amneris, Meg Page, and Princess Eboli.
Ms. Walther also appeared with the Deutsche Oper Berlin, Dresden State Opera, at the Cologne Opera House, the Vienna State Opera, the Bolshoi, the Edinburgh Festival, Teatro Real in Madrid, and the Teatro Nacional de São Carlos in Lisbon.
She was also a noted concert singer, admired especially for her Bach interpretations.
Ms. Walther’s 1989 rendering of Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder may be heard here. The orchestra of RAI Turin is conducted by Wolfgang Rennert.
Born Joseph, Baron Van Damme, in Brussels in 1940, bass-baritone José van Dam went on to become one of the greatest vocal artists of our time. On February 17th, 2026, he passed away at the age of 85.
M. van Dam studied at the Royal Conservatory in Brussels, and made his operatic debut at Liège as Rossini’s Don Basilio. In 1967, Loren Maazel invited the singer to join the Deutsche Oper Berlin. In the ensuing seasons, van Dam appeared at La Scala, Covent Garden, The Met, the Monnaie, the Teatro Colon, the Vienna State Opera, the Paris Opera, and the festivals at Salzburg, Aix-en-Provence, and Orange. He had a huge success in the premiere performance of Olivier Messiaen’s Saint François d’Assise, conducted by Seijo Ozawa. He worked frequently with such great conductors as Solti, Karajan, Plasson, Cambreling, Nagano, and Levine.
At the Metropolitan Opera, where he debuted in 1975 as Escamillo, he sang 75 performances over a 30-year span. His roles were Colline, Golaud, Wagner’s Dutchman, Mozart’s Figaro, Wozzeck, and the Hoffmann four villains. I attended his performances in the Debussy (opposite Jeannette Pilou) and the Berg (opposite Anja Silja), and they were among the most thrilling evenings in my 60+ years of opera-going.
A beloved recitalist, M. van Dam gave concerts and made recordings with the Polish pianist Maciej Pikulski. I had the great good fortune to attend two of their recitals in New York City.
M. van Dam leaves behind a number of wonderful complete opera recordings, notably his Barak, Hans Sachs, and Mozart Figaro conducted by Sir Georg Solti, and his Golaud in Claudio Abbado’s marvelous rendering of Debussy’s score.
The bass-baritone appeared in the film The Music Master and also as Leporello in Joseph Losey’s classic Don Giovanni.
The City of Berlin honoured M. van Dam with the title of “Kammersänger”; in France he was bestowed the honor of “Commandeur des Arts et Lettres”; and, more recently, José van Dam was ennobled by King Albert II of Belgium.
From M. van Dam’s treasure chest of recordings, I’ve chosen his deeply moving performance of Mahler’s “Ich bin der welt abhanden gekommen”. Listenhere.
Tuesday February 17th, 2026 – I’ve been under the weather for the past few days, but I’d been looking forward to tonight’s concert by Carnegie Hall’s Ensemble Connectsince the program was announced many moons ago. By late afternoon I was feeling pretty poorly, but I decided to head down to Weill Hall, thinking the fresh air might do me good after a couple of days of not venturing out.
The concert opened with George Lewis’s Broke, a Carnegie Hall commission having its New York premiere this evening. The composer spoke briefly, insinuating that the music might not be to all tastes, but adding that “It’s short!”
Above: playing Mr. Lewis’s Broke; photo by Fadi Kheir
The players took the stage: Cameron Cullen (flute), Nicole Martin (clarinet and bass clarinet), Grace O’Connell (trumpet), David Seder (trombone), and Joseph Vaz (piano). The music started, and I was soon scribbling notes as fast as I could…for there was much to take in. Here are the words I scrawled: cacophonous, weird, fun, growling, stuttering, sighing, fast, furious, piercing, rippling bass clarinet, alarming, deafening, kozmic, sighing, muted brass motifs, massive slashing sounds from the piano’s strings, mind-blowing, messy…marvelous!
I thoroughly enjoyed every second of this piece, smiling and laughing to myself. The audience reception was more staid than I expected, but I applauded vigorously. The composer came onstage for a bow, and I decided that I would meet him and thank him after the concert ended.
Valerie Coleman’s Portraits of Langston(composed in 2007) brought Ms. Martin and Mssrs Cullen and Vaz back to the stage. The piece, in six movements – each having a title – was most appealing; the music shone with the composer’s trademark lyricism and her mastery of rhythms and moods. The entwining voices of the winds, and the pianist’s impressive dynamic range, engaged us from start to finish; dancing tempos and the alternating of pensive and light-hearted passages gave the players ample opportunities to shine. I thought the spoken-word introductions to each movement were superfluous, and held up the musical flow; but overall, the work was intriguing.
Unfortunately, I’d been feeling increasingly ill as the music played on; at the interval, I decided to head home, foregoing the music of Samuel Barber, Scott Joplin and – most especially – of Charles Ives, which was what had lured me to the concert in the first place.
Above: The Malpaso Dance Company performing Martha Graham’s Dark Meadow Suite; photo by Steven Pisano
Author: Oberon
Sunday February 15th, 2026 matinee – The Malpaso Dance Company closing their eleventh engagement at The Joyce today with a triple bill program that featured the company’s premiere performances of works by Martha Graham, Keerati Jinakunwiphat, and Daileidys Carrazana. Live music was a key element in the production’s success this afternoon.
The Graham Company’s artistic director, Janet Eilber, has crafted a suite from the choreographer’s 1946 longer work, Dark Meadow, to a score by Carlos Chavez. Bringing this Dark Meadow Suite into their repertoire gave the Malpaso the distinction of being the first Cuban dance company to stage a work by Martha Graham. This ritualistic work, with its underlying exploration of a woman’s sexual awakening, was set on the Malpaso dancers by Graham régisseur Elizabeth Auclair.
The Chavez score was performed live – and gorgeously – by the Alma String Quartet, giving the piece a palpable immediacy. This ensemble, founded in 2016 by its marvelous cellist, Amaya Justiz, played from their hearts: a really engrossing blend of musical textures.
The piece opens with the female dancers in a passage of classic Graham steps and gestures; the men then back into the space, and a solo by danseur Esven González is superbly rendered. All afternoon, Mr. González will continue to captivate the eye. The suite dances on, with processions and partnered rituals. In a unique scene, the men, seated on the floor. support the standing women by grasping their ankles as they lean forward as if searching for something other-worldly. The female principal, I believe it was Greta Yero today, has a poignant solo; we then leave this realm as the light fades away.
Though it takes years of dedicated study and physical discipline to master the Graham technique and style, the Malpaso dancers rose nobly to the challenge. The playing of the Alma quartet made an indelible impression; and kudos also (all afternoon) to the lighting designs by Manuel da Silva.
Following a pause, a quartet of remarkable musicians gathered in the Joyce’s improvised pit to astonish us with their simply fabulous playing: trumpeter Adam O’Farrill and his colleagues from Stranger Days – saxman Xavier Del Castillo, bass-player Walter Stinson, and percussionist Zack O’Farrill – blew the roof off the place with their dynamic rhythms and vibrant sound. I could have listened to them for hours, but there was also dancing to be enjoyed in Year Of The Lion, choreographed by Kyle Abraham alumna Keerati Jinakunwiphat.
The six dancers, clad in satiny unisex dresses designed by Karen Young, were Dailiedys Carranza, Greta Yero, Jennifer Suarez, Laura Rodriguez, Esven Gonzalez, and Esteban Aguilar. Fleeting solo and duet passages are woven into full ensembles in choreography that is eye-catching and vividly responsive to the musical score. The dancers were divine, the music kozmic.
Following the interval, the program continued with La Estación (The Season), a new work by Malpaso co-founder Daileidys Carrazana. The score, drawing on themes of the changing seasons, was a collage of works by Astor Piazolla, Tchaikovsky, and Vivaldi – the last-named in arrangements by Max Richter. The Alma Quartet served up this delicious musical feast with their perfect playing; they were joined at the keyboard by Gabriel Chakarji. Much of the music has a Spanish flair.
All eleven of the Company’s dancers were onstage for this grand-scale piece, which opens in silence with a man and woman standing – facing each other – in a pool of light. The music commences; it will veer thru many mood swings as the dance unfolds. The beautiful hues that the musicians conjure up are not well-matched by the drab unisex costumes of steely grey, which give anonymity to the individual dancers.
Passages of interesting choreography are offset by moments of emptiness. A lineup of the dancers executing gestural motifs gets lively; the excellent lighting holds our attention. The music turns dirge-like for a male duet. At last, the original couple are alone onstage again. They seem to have reconciled, and they head upstage, as if moving on to their future together. But instead, a long pas de deux ensues.
The program might have been better crafted had the Graham piece been given last. To open with a masterpiece by one of the greatest choreographers of all time sets a very high bar.
Above, the evening’s artists: Adam Barnett-Hart, Robin Scott, Brook Speltz, Paul Neubauer, and Pierre Lapointe. Photo by Tristan Cook, courtesy of Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center.
Sunday January 10th, 2026 – The wonderful musicians of the Escher String Quartet were on top form this evening for a nicely-contrasted program of works by Mozart and Dvorak, along with the New York premiere of a piece by Chris Rogerson. Violist de luxe Paul Neubauer joined the Eschers for the Rogerson.
After checking their website a few days before this concert, I was aware that the quartet had taken on a new violinist; however, when they took the stage, it wasn’t the person I was expecting to see. No announcement was made as to the change. In any case, Robin Scott proved a very fine addition to the ensemble.
Mozart’s “Prussian” quartet (K. 575) was the opening work; in the melodic flow of the initial Allegretto, it was evident that the trademark Escher blend was intact. The music is gracious, with rhythmic variety and virtuosic elements. Brook Speltz’s cello pulse was a constant element, and the music offers Mr. Scott opportunities to shine. Adam Barnett-Hart and Mr. Speltz revel in the main theme, which Mozart marked as “dolce” (sweetly).
The Andante has a gentle feeling, with lovely harmonies. The main theme is passed from player to player, the better to savour their distinctive timbres. The Menuetto veers between elegance and animation, with a dotty segment and unison motifs. Mr. Speltz’s cello is again prominent. The cellist and violist Pierre Lapointe harmonize to open the concluding movement. There’s lively playing from all, with passages of virtuosity yielding briefly to a lyrical theme.
Composer Chris Rogerson received a warm greeting from the packed house when he stepped onstage to introduce his 2024 Quintet for Two violins, Two Violas, and Cello, having its New York premiere tonight. He spoke of the various types of clouds which had inspired this six-movement piece. Master violist Paul Neubauer joined the Eschers for the 25-minute work, filled with shifting moods and colours.
Eerie chords evoke the foggy atmosphere of Sratus; the plucked cello evokes the drippy dampness, and a high violin theme has a dreamy feeling. The music fades away, and Zephyr commences. This music is infused with a stealthy feeling, with glissandos lending a slippery sound. Nimbus brings a dark, steady rain: the music veers from somber to quirky. The Barnett-Hart violin sings of longing, then is joined by Mr. Scott in a dirge-like theme.
The longest movement – Cumulus – opens with the violists and cello, soon joined by the violins. Sorrowful feelings are mingled with anxiousness; Mr. Speltz’s cello adds depth to the atmosphere. The mood picks up a bit, and then a poignant theme hints at hopefulness. Mr. Neubauer has a solo passage, gorgeously played. Wistful moments give way to passion before subsiding into lyricism. For all its appealing qualities, this movement did seem a bit too long.
Storm opens urgently, with plucking strings like driven raindrops. The wind rises, and the music reaches a sudden, dramatic end. The final movement, Cirrus, is bleak and dreary. A pensive violin theme is finely rendered by Mr. Barnett-Hart, ascending to a high range. Throughout this work, I thought of Britten…and of Debussy. The audience seemed to immerse itself in Mr. Rogerson’s music, giving him a warm ovation at the end.
Following the interval, Dvorak’s Quartet in G-major, Op. 106, splendidly played, gave me my usual love/hate dilemma with this composer’s music. The Allegro moderato has an exciting start, with swirling dances and a folkish feel. After a while, I find my mind wandering. The long tones and dense harmonies of the Adagio are truly appealing; a slow-rise gypsy dance – the violin over pulsing figurations – turns intense. But then it all becomes a bit aimless. The Molto vivace is a charming, elvish dance, with more treats from the Barnett-Hart violin. In the finale, the composer seems to have an over-abundance of ideas to bring forth, the onward impetus of the music impeded by detours and cul de sacs. The sumptuous playing of the Eschers made me long for Beethoven…or Mendelssohn. But that is a minority report, for the audience gave the players a rousing ovation at the end, in which I was happy to join.
Friday February 6th, 2026 – The Budapest Festival Orchestra and Maxim Vengerov wowed with one of the best interpretations of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto I’ve ever heard, along with another big surprise that opened the concert.
The Budapest Festival Orchestra (BFO) is the creation of conductor, composer, and general multi-hyphenate Iván Fischer in the 1980s. The orchestra was created with the intent of having another world-class orchestra and is the main touring orchestra of Hungary.
The program featured favorites that I knew were going to be delightful. It was, in a way, a night of surprises as well.
As the lights started to dim, the stage was still empty except for the chairs already laid out. Soon, people started to file onto the stage, but without instruments. Mr. Fischer was among the group of people, and he addressed the audience as the mass of performers stood behind him.
I first thought, “Is this the chorus for the orchestra?” The first piece was by Arvo Part, a renowned choral composer. Fischer quickly answered my questions when he revealed that the chorus of singers behind him were actually the orchestra musicians. The only time I’ve heard an orchestra have to do any sort of vocalization is in the West Side Story suite, and even then, shouting the word “Mambo” is far different from singing an entire piece on the Carnegie stage.
But the orchestra sang the Part piece Summa (which was the choral debut of the piece on this stage) with aplomb. The piece was haunting and beautiful and reminiscent of ancient chants. I was impressed that the musicians were able to sing this choral work. The piece didn’t demand vocal fireworks, but to be able to perform in a medium one never normally performs in on one of the world’s most important stages was impressive.
Once the piece was over, the orchestra filed out and came back with their instruments. I initially saw that the BFO would perform Tchaikovsky’s elegant but infamously difficult Violin Concerto, but I hadn’t realized until the day before that it would be Maxim Vengerov as the soloist.
Vengerov is known worldwide as a violin virtuoso and conductor and, for quite a while, stepped away from the soloist track. I last saw him at Carnegie when he performed Brahms chamber pieces, which were stunning but very different from this high-flying concerto.
Vengerov was dressed in all black and didn’t make the usual soloist sartorial choice to stand out from the other musicians. The orchestra started to play the regal opening theme, and when Vengerov started to play, things felt different.
The long initial lines of his intro had such finesse and control. In a lot of ways, Vengerov’s playing felt more like a singer than a violinist, with the long, elegant phrases being sustained by breath support. It was just so beautiful and sustained, like the line would be never-ending.
Beyond the beauty, what was interesting was that Vengerov didn’t act like the usual soloist I was used to seeing. Soloists inevitably have a sense of diva-ness that is usually part of the aesthetic. The allure of a concerto is partially the high-wire drama of “can they actually do this?!” when going through extremely difficult passages.
I’ve seen performers of concertos who breezed through fiendishly difficult parts, and it doesn’t seem as exciting. Somehow, though, Vengerov was able to maintain a stoicism that didn’t belie the technical feats he was accomplishing, and it was mesmerizing.
Vengerov’s control over the violin was astounding. The pianissimo sections in the second movement were perfect, with musicality and phrasing that were unmatched.
Towards the climax of the third movement, I caught Vengerov sharing a smile with the concertmaster, as both knew what a special moment it was. And with that, the concerto was over. Vengerov received a standing ovation, one that was truly deserved.
Once the ovation died down and Vengerov left and returned to the stage, he played the first movement of Bach’s Violin Sonata in G minor as an encore. Once again, the hall was enraptured in silence, and we were left with a beautiful final treat.
After the intermission, the BFO performed a moving rendition of Brahms’s Symphony No. 2 in D major.
The symphony is such a breath of fresh air, especially given how cold NYC is at the moment. The BFO made it feel as if spring had wafted into the hall. The orchestra displayed such control and elegance, but also individuality.
I loved how one of the cellists played so passionately and moved with the music, while the orchestra as a unit played beautifully together. Technically, the BFO was immaculate. The pianissimos in the fourth movement, in particular, were deftly performed.
The BFO and Vengerov truly outdid themselves tonight.
I first saw Ms. Price at the Old Met, singing Fiordiligi in COSI FAN TUTTE in English. At the new Met, I saw her in ANTONY & CLEOPATRA, DON GIOVANNI, TROVATORE, BALLO IN MASCHERA, MANON LESCAUT, and the Verdi REQUIEM. Her song recitals were always enthralling, her voice remaining clear and lush throughout a long career. Happy birthday, dear diva!
Thursday February 5th, 2026 – A night of encores from the famous operatic tenor Juan Diego Florez. Florez has been a staple of my own operatic upbringing for years, and I was excited to see him live for the first time. His famous renditions of Ah! mes amis are what I listened to as I was learning the piece, and even though he was mostly performing art songs the evening (or so I thought), I knew it would be a masterclass in performance.
The program was a typical recital format, with mostly art songs and some select arias from the most famous repertoire, real crowd pleasers.
The program started with Rossini’s Le sylvain, from Péchés de vieillesse, one of Rossini’s song cycles. The tenor and his long-standing collaborative pianist Vincenzo Scalera took the stage and, without an introduction, started the piece. It is a great song to start a program with because it has such a long piano introduction that it really set the stage.
Florez is known for his high tessitura and blazing coloratura, so it was interesting to hear him sing a song that was low and melancholic. He certainly lived up to being a leading tenor and didn’t merely sing the songs, but made this (and every) song into a dramatic moment.
Some singers prefer subtlety in performance, but Florez made great use of the full stage, essentially emoting everything from the songs.
Interestingly, Florez walked out after the first song and came back almost immediately once the next set was starting. It was an odd choice, since usually a performer might leave after an extended moment of singing. The two performers more or less followed this pattern the entire night.
I loved the Bellini set of art songs. Bellini, though more known for his operas, left a set of gorgeous art songs that have all of the Bellini color but are best suited for nights such as this. My favorite among the set was La ricordanza. It really showed off Florez’s impressive head voice in the right ways.
It was a real treat to hear a piano transcription of Bellini’s Almen se non poss’io played as a capstone to the set. Florez had left the stage, but Scalera played the beautiful aria as a great prelude of sorts. I loved that the performance wasn’t just a solo recital necessarily, but truly highlighted the artistry of both performers.
The last set before the intermission was by the last remaining titan of bel canto composers, Donizetti. Florez had to throw in a high note at some point and pleased the crowds at the end of Ah, rammenta, o bella Irene.
The crowd was were particularly reactive tonight compared to any other concert I’d been to. I love that the audience truly adored the music and Florez. I did feel at times that perhaps the admiration caused the crowd to react to every part of the performance instead of ones that might have been more justified. But I can’t be a hater for people who love music.
The second part of the program was more eclectic, but I actually liked it more. It felt like it was more at home in Florez’s identity. I loved Bella enamorada, and the long-held note in it was particularly exquisite.
The two songs that followed were in Spanish and really felt alive in Florez’s native tongue. The first was the song Sueña, guitarrico mío, from El guitarrico, and the second was from the zarzuela La alegría del batallón by Serrano. The second piece is a common tenor recital song, and Florez used the comedic aspects of it well to rally up the already very live audience.
The remaining songs on the program were aria classics, and surprisingly my favorite was the famous Che gelida manina by Puccini. I love Puccini, but Florez’s voice is better suited for the lighter side of opera. But without the giant orchestration, Florez beautifully captured the aria in all the right moments.
I knew there had to be at least one encore, but I had no idea what was going to happen. There was, secretly it seems, a third set of songs that were not in the program.
The first set of encores was actually my favorite set of the entire night. Florez strode out on stage with a guitar and accompanied himself in one Neapolitan song and two songs in Spanish. These were wonderful, and honestly, if he performed an entire night of these songs, I would go back in a heartbeat.
I thought that surely this must be the last of it, but no, there was more. I had already started to leave when the duo came back and sang the famous Ah! mes amis (a real full-circle moment for me). I figured there had to be more after this, so instead of leaving, I stayed seated. Florez and Scalera came out several more times and ended the night with Una furtiva lagrima by Donizetti, another classic and a perfect end to this secret third set.
Saturday January 7th matinee – Noche Flamenca has been at The Joyce all week, presenting the world premiere performances of Irrationalities, inspired by Goya’s Human Follies (Los Disparates) and choreographed by Martín Santangelo.
The evening-length work features original music, performed live by singers Emilio Florido, Carmina Cortés, and Salva Cortés, and guitarists Salva de María and Eugenio Iglesias. Masks by visual artist Mary Frank made an impact as the afternoon unfolded, and a huge contribution to the production’s success came from lighting designer Mark London.
The dancers listed were Paula Bolaños, María de la O, Stella Goldin García, Alexa Ratini, Juan Ogalla, Jesús Helmo, David Nieto, and Brazil-born Gabriel Matias. The playbill contained bios of these dancers, but no photos; it was therefore impossible, during the show, to put a name to a face.
The performance opened with the entire cast lounging on a low platform; one gentleman was speaking to the group but as I forgot most of my Spanish years ago, it was unclear what he was saying. One fellow danced briefly, and there was some clapping and a bit of singing.
The group breaks up and the dancing begins in earnest; the guitarists are fantastic, the singers superb. Señora Cortés has an uncanny voice: earthy, throaty, and full of passion and power…her soul seemed to communicate directly with mine: truly mesmerizing. The male vocalists are likewise impressive, and thoroughly engaging.
The program lists ten scenes – or stories – each seemingly related to one of the Goya artworks that have inspired the narrative. Since these images are not depicted in the playbill, one must have some fore-knowledge in order to appreciate the connection between art and dance. In some of the numbers, Ms. Frank’s mythic masks refer to the Goya visuals; these were especially telling. As the program evolved, it became less imperative to try to connect what we were hearing and watching to the artwork that inspired the creators: it was a performance of music and dance that was visually stunning, rhythmically entrancing, and musically magical.
A quartet for the male dancers had a competitive air; the footwork bedazzled us, the pride and passion of each dancer filling the music with meaning. This was followed by an equally vivid trio for the three women, clad in ruffled skirts. There was a poignant duet for the seated Señora Cortés and one of the female dancers, bound together by a long swathe of white fabric. Siguiriya, a long solo danced by Señor Ogalla, was the only segment in which the dancer (or dancers) was named. Ogalla’s dancing was a textbook in musicality and deeply-rooted knowledge of the style.
There was so much to absorb, and so much to savor, in this production. The audience seemed enthralled by it all; there was nary of whisper or a cough to be heard, though frequent olés! spurred the dancers and the players on to surpass themselves as the afternoon flowed by.
My first introduction to the world of flamenco came from watching Fanny Ara dancing some solos in a mixed bill a few seasons ago; I was so hoping Fanny would be dancing at The Joyce this afternoon. But there was a captivating new presence today to further enhance my interest in these dances: the young Brazilian danseur Gabriel Matias. With his silken black hair swept back into a top-knot, Gabriel’s noble bearing and impeccable footwork held the audience under a spell. What a gift to the world of dance!
Oberon's Glade 