Wilhelminia Fernandez sings the aria “Ebben? Ne andrò lontana” from Catalani’s LA WALLY in the 1981 film DIVA.
What? You’ve never watched the film? Tsk, tsk.
Wilhelminia Fernandez – WALLY aria – from the film DIVA
Wilhelminia Fernandez sings the aria “Ebben? Ne andrò lontana” from Catalani’s LA WALLY in the 1981 film DIVA.
What? You’ve never watched the film? Tsk, tsk.
Wilhelminia Fernandez – WALLY aria – from the film DIVA
Above: Ernest Chausson turning pages for Claude Debussy, at Luzancy in 1893
The composers Ernest Chausson and Claude Debussy were great friends, and their admiration for one another’s music continued even after Chausson took Debussy to task for his debauched lifestyle.
In the Summer of 1893, Chausson has rented a house in Luzancy and invited Debussy to come for a long stay. Knowing of Debussy’s keen interest on the music of Modest Moussorgsky, Chausson had sent off for a score of the Russian composer’s BORIS GODUNOV and Debussy spent many hours at the piano, playing thru the opera, with Chausson seated to his left, turning the pages.
Chausson’s catalog of compositions is relatively brief, for his life was cut short by a bicycling accident in 1899. he was killed instantly, at the age of 44.
Chausson left us one great symphony, one opera (LE ROI ARTHUS), the gorgeous Poème de l’amour et de la Mer; the haunting Poème for violin and orchestra (used by Anthony Tudor for his ballet JARDIN AUX LILAS); chamber works, and songs.
Here is one of Chausson’s best-known works:
Chausson~Chanson perpetuelle – Sandra Porter – BBC 1996
Above: Ernest Chausson turning pages for Claude Debussy, at Luzancy in 1893
The composers Ernest Chausson and Claude Debussy were great friends, and their admiration for one another’s music continued even after Chausson took Debussy to task for his debauched lifestyle.
In the Summer of 1893, Chausson has rented a house in Luzancy and invited Debussy to come for a long stay. Knowing of Debussy’s keen interest on the music of Modest Moussorgsky, Chausson had sent off for a score of the Russian composer’s BORIS GODUNOV and Debussy spent many hours at the piano, playing thru the opera, with Chausson seated to his left, turning the pages.
Chausson’s catalog of compositions is relatively brief, for his life was cut short by a bicycling accident in 1899. he was killed instantly, at the age of 44.
Chausson left us one great symphony, one opera (LE ROI ARTHUS), the gorgeous Poème de l’amour et de la Mer; the haunting Poème for violin and orchestra (used by Anthony Tudor for his ballet JARDIN AUX LILAS); chamber works, and songs.
Here is one of Chausson’s best-known works:
Chausson~Chanson perpetuelle – Sandra Porter – BBC 1996
Thursday December 17th, 2015 – Tonight at Carnegie Hall, Leon Botstein (above) was on the podium for a program of music written by Russian Jewish composers between 1874 and 1921. Performed by the American Symphony Orchestra, the concert featured two U.S. premieres and one New York premiere, as well as Anton Rubinstein’s 2nd cello concerto with soloist István Várdai.
Aleksandr Krein’s The Rose and The Cross (‘Symphonic Fragments after Aleksandr Blok’) was composed between 1917-1920, making it the newest work on tonight’s program. Blok was a great Symbolist poet and his mystical drama The Rose and The Cross went thru more than 200 rehearsals at the Moscow Art Theater but was never performed in public. The composer Krein was inspired by Blok’s writing and composed this suite to honor the poet. Tonight’s performance marked the suite’s New York premiere.
The music, which shows traces of harmonic advancement over the other three – older – works played this evening, opens with a somber, rather creepy atmosphere. Later it will take on an almost cinematic feeling, with effects such as trumpet fanfares and shades of exotica from the harp. A songful melody becomes a recurring theme, and the suite rises to a triumphant conclusion depicting the “boundless energy of the heart that sings.”
The Hungarian cellist István Várdai (above) then took the stage for the evening’s one (somewhat) familiar work: the second cello concerto of Anton Rubinstein. The oldest and most conservative piece on tonight’s bill, it marks the pianist-composer as a pioneer, since he was the first major Russian composer to work in the concerto genre (Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto still lay four years in the future). Rubinstein draws upon a very ‘Russian’ sense of melody; the concerto is a vastly pleasing work, and one which places great demands on the soloist.
Mr. Várdai, tall and youthful-looking, is an extraordinarily gifted musician and seemed to win the hearts of the Carnegie Hall audience this evening within moments of starting to play. His timbre has a lovely, deep-violet colour and his technique is refined in both agility and dynamic control. From his opening soulful song, the cellist moved thru a scampering passage and on to a strikingly brisk downhill scale that ended on a delicious trill. A second theme plumbs the most pungent depths before turning into a rapid dance.
The concerto’s movements flow into one another, with a wind chorale signaling the start of the Andante; Mr. Várdai embarks on an optimistic melody but the composer cannot resist a desire to let the music dance. After a mini-cadenza, a jogging Allegro carries us along. The orchestral texture lightens, with cello filigree, then lapses into an interlude and grows quiet. Things slow down beautifully for another injection of melody and the cellist then serves up a more sustained cadenza before a final surge to the end.
Mr. Várdai’s superb performance elicited a very enthusiastic response from the audience; I very much hope to have further opportunities to experience his artistry.
Following the interval, Mikhail Gnesin’s From Shelley (‘Symphonic Fragment after Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound‘) had its U.S. premiere. Written between 1906 and 1908 this short (8 minutes) work was composed while Gnesin was studying with Rimsky-Korsakov. Its brevity precludes any real development of ideas, yet there is a fine sense of the theme blossoming, and some very nice writing for the horns and harp. The ending is, in a word, beautiful.
The U.S. premiere of Maximilian Steinberg’s first symphony raised the question: why did it take nearly one hundred and ten years for this symphony to reach us? It’s as exciting and finely-crafted as many other well-known symphonies; the composer appears to have drawn inspiration from such symphonists as Beethoven and Schumann, eschewing the Russian-nationalist influence of his teacher Rimsky-Korsakov.
Steinberg’s 1st has an animated, congenial opening with the immediate establishing of a rich theme that that put me in mind of – of all things – Humperdinck’s HANSEL UND GRETEL (“Der Wind! Der Wind!”); this theme will re-sound throughout the symphony. This is big, pleasing music with a variety of rhythmic patterns. The timpani lend a stately quality.
In an exuberant Allegro vivace, the composer lightens things to a scherzo quality, later taking on a waltzy air. This second movement ends with Mendelssohnian charm.
After a darkish start, the Andante features a clarinet theme which develops into a tutti passage. In a gentle acceleration, horns and oboe play a part, and then in a richer build-up the horns grow passionate. Horn and clarinet voices entwine; oboe and flute pipe up. The music becomes cinematic in sweep before receding to solo clarinet.
“Der Wind! Der Wind!” is again evoked by horns and trumpets as the finale commences. The oboe speaks out, then the horns launch a fugue. As the Allegro moderato continues on, the music meanders somewhat, as though Steinberg was unsure how best to end the piece: but end it does – strongly.
Kudos to Maestro Botstein for assembling a rewarding program of relative rarities, for including the Rubinstein cello concerto (and Mr. Várdai’s excellent playing of it), and for bringing the Steinberg symphony to these shores.
This evening’s repertory – click on each composer’s name for biographical information:
Aleksandr Krein – The Rose and the Cross (N.Y. Premiere)
Anton Rubinstein– Cello Concerto No. 2
Mikhail Gnesin – From Shelley (U.S. Premiere)
Maximilian Steinberg– Symphony No. 1 (U.S. Premiere)
Above: Maestro Joseph Colaneri
Saturday November 28th, 2015 matinee – Arriving at The Met for today’s matinee of TOSCA, I found that patrons are now being ‘wanded’ by security forces on entering the house. Once inside, I watched the auditorium not fill up: at curtain time there were an alarming number of empty seats. If a Saturday matinee of a popular opera on a holiday weekend cannot sell better than this, what’s to be done? From my score desk, I avoided the dreariness of the Luc Bondy production, instead letting this exciting traversal of the score play out dramatically in my theatre of the mind. Later in the day, news came of Mr. Bondy’s death – he’s the same age as me.
Liudmyla Monastyrska’s 2012 Aida at The Met was interesting enough draw me back to the House this afternoon to hear her as Tosca. Roberto Aronica, a idiomatically solid Cavaradossi in a performance I attended earlier this season, and Marco Vratogna, new to me, shared the stage with the Ukrainian soprano. All three sang passionately, and they had the right sized voices for their roles in the big space. But in the end it was the opera itself, and conductor Joseph Colaneri’s marvelous feeling for the music, that kept me on to the end and had me shouting bravo! for the Maestro at the curtain calls.
Colaneri is a real opera conductor: he knows that the voices come first and he can immediately establish a dynamic range to suit whatever cast he’s presiding over. Every singer is always heard, and if in the heat of the moment someone in the cast should rush ahead or linger too long on a note, Colaneri can immediately adjust and keep the flow of the music steady. My hat is off to him for this TOSCA, which seemed so fresh and alive, almost as if I was hearing it for the first time instead of the 500th.
Today’s TOSCA was much more the sort of performance of this opera that I want to hear than the one I attended earlier this month, where Angela Gheorghiu’s walking-on-eggshells singing of the title role siphoned off much of the excitement. Today, Ms. Monastyrska displayed the needed vocal amplitude for the music of Tosca, and she and her colleagues sang with generosity and commitment all afternoon.
Two powerful bassos each made their mark in the first act: Richard Bernstein (Angelotti) and John Del Carlo (Sacristan) both sounded huge, declaiming their lines vividly. Later, in Act III, Connor Tsui sang the song of the shepherd so impressively that I felt like applauding.
Mr. Aronica, first of the principals to appear, has a sturdy, masculine sound which he flung into the house confidently. Some passing flatness at the passaggio was not a serious detriment to his performance. Having had to rein his voice in somewhat when singing opposite Mme. Gheorghiu in the earlier performance, he was today much better matched with Ms. Monastyrska and together they poured out the big melodies of the love duet with apt Puccinian fervor. Later, vowing to aid Angelotti, Aronica speared a triumphant high-B on “La vita mi costasse!” and held onto it.
As the diva playing the diva, Ms. Monastyrska established her vocal credentials with her commanding offstage cries of “Mario! Mario!”. Once onstage, her voice revealed a slightly throaty throb, and a bit of flutter that quickly endeared itself as it gave a trace of vulnerability to the character. The Monastyrska sound sails easily into the hall, especially as she ventures to the upper end of her range. She puts very little pressure in the lower notes, and showed good instincts in lightening the voice for “Non la sospiri” and the playful banter about the colour of the Attavanti’s eyes. Some rather odd diction along the way didn’t bother me in the least, especially when she and Mr. Aronica cut loose to exciting effect in the climaxes of their duet.
Diction and its effectiveness played a good part of the success of Marco Vratogna’s Scarpia. His voice has a darkish, menacing quality and his creepy verbal nuances revealed the sadism lurking under his quasi-elegant veneer. For all his dramatic bite, Vratogna could also deliver real, sustained vocalism when it suited him: his “Tosca divina, la mano mia…” was musically reassuring. The Attavanti fan having done its work, Ms. Monastyrska – her voice now at full flourish – gave a walloping shout at “Tu non l’avrai stasera…GIURO!” and went on to an exciting crescendo at “…egli vede ch’io piango!” Maestro Colaneri then marshaled the orchestra and chorus for the grandiose finale, giving the music its full sweep but never overwhelming Mr. Vratogna’s relishing of the text as he salivates over his plan for Tosca’s ultimate surrender.
Mr. Vratogna impressed at the start of Act II with his greasily subtle musings on being so close to having Tosca in his trap; increasingly angry with Spoletta, the baritone understandably blustered a bit. Cavaradossi is brought in and then taken off to be tortured and the cat-and-mouse game between Tosca and Scarpia begins.
Ms. Monastyrska monumental high-A on “Solo, si!” was soon followed by one of her rare ventures into chest voice at “Sogghigno di demone!”…very effective. Maestro Colaneri built the drama thrillingly as Scarpia baited Tosca mercilessly; from a bold and brassy top C down to a plaintive murmur at “Che v’ho fatto in vita mia..?” Monastyrska had really gotten into it.
Tosca blurts out the truth about Angelotti’s hiding place to Scarpia; her lover, on discovering she’s caved in, is about to disown her when news of Bonaparte’s victory at Marengo throws Scarpia for a loop. Colaneri in a great moment drove the orchestra relentlessly and Aronica tackled a passionate top-A on “Vittoria!”. The Monastyrska high-C as she sees her lover dragged away was massive – slightly raw, but thrilling.
A false calm is restored. Scarpia/Vratogna offers his bargain. Describing his lust for Tosca, the baritone was slightly taxed by the highish tessitura here but verbally makes it all work. Monastyrska began the “Vissi d’arte” softly, slowly opening the voice and phrasing throughout with lovely modulations of colour and volume; she went totally lyric at “Diedi gioielli della Madonna al manto…” before the build-up to a house-filling B-flat, followed immediately by a pulling back on the A-flat and then a stunning crescendo to triple forte on the G. I’ve never heard it done this way, but the soprano pulled it off impressively.
The murder scene was less effective than some I have heard – Monastyrska’s parlando phrases were not really effectively rendered – but Colaneri and his orchestra’s superb playing of the postlude to the murder was so atmospheric.
Fantastic work from The Met horns at the opening of Act III; the prelude was yet another Colaneri jewel, evolving to the amazingly deep sounds that precede the introduction of the “E lucevan le stelle…” theme. Basso Tyler Simpson made his mark as the jailer, and then the haunting prelude to the tenor’s aria commences. Mr. Aronica was at his finest here, with an intense and passionate ending which won him sustained applause.
Monastyrska/Tosca arrives; she describes the murder of Scarpia vividly, culminating in a blindingly bright and very long high-C at “Io quella lama…”. Maestro Colaneri and his players sustained their high level as the soprano and tenor joined in a flowing duet before soaring to a stentorian high-B just before their unison “Trionfal!” And then Scarpia’s last trick is played out and the opera ends in a flash.
The tedium of two Gelb-intermissions was relieved by chatting up a young pianist from Montreal, visiting the Met – and our City – for the first time.
Metropolitan Opera House
November 28th, 2015 matinee
TOSCA
Giacomo Puccini
Tosca...................Liudmyla Monastyrska
Cavaradossi.............Roberto Aronica
Scarpia.................Marco Vratogna
Sacristan...............John Del Carlo
Spoletta................Eduardo Valdes
Angelotti...............Richard Bernstein
Sciarrone...............Jeffrey Wells
Shepherd................Connor Tsui
Jailer..................Tyler Simpson
Conductor...............Joseph Colaneri
What looked quite enticing on paper – a 1963 WALKURE from Stockholm – proved frustrating, not because the performance was sub-par in any way, but because it turned out to be mis-labled and incomplete.
The recording starts mid-way thru Act I. Michael Gielen, a conductor I know little about, has the score well in hand although the orchestra isn’t always up to Wagner’s demands. Arne Tyrén is a less boisterous Hunding than some I have heard, and his voice can take on a wonderfully spooky quality. Birgit Nilsson’s ‘Ho-Jo-To-Ho’ is a marvel, her voice bright and fresh: she makes this daunting opening passage sound easy. Unfortunately, there’s not much more to be said of her performance here, since the Todesverkundigung is ruined by what seems to have been the wayward speed of the source machine used to tape the performance. The pitch rolls up and down with a seasick effect. Then, the third act is missing entirely!
The Wälsung twins are appealingly sung by Aase Nordmo-Lövberg (above) and Kolbjörn Höiseth. Ms. Nordmo-Lövberg, a very fine Elsa in Nicolai Gedda’s only performances of Lohengrin, brings poised lyricism and a fine sense of the words to the role of Sieglinde.
Mr. Höiseth (above) sang briefly at The Met in 1975: he debuted as Froh in RHEINGOLD and repeated that role once; then he stepped in once for an indisposed colleague as Loge and once for an ailing Jon Vickers as Siegmund. I saw him in both the RHEINGOLD roles and he made a favorable impression. Here, as Siegmund, he is a good match for Nordmo-Lövberg – their voices are lyrically compatible. The tenor does experience a couple of random pitch problems, and seems just a shade tired vocally at the end of Act I – understandable, after such a taxing sing. But he makes a good effect in both the Sword Monologue and in the Winterstürme and also in the Act II scene where he attempts to calm to delirious Sieglinde as they flee from her pursuing husband. It’s a pity that the Todesverkundigung is so garbled: I would like to have heard Nilsson and Höiseth in this scene which is my favorite part of the opera.
The mezzo-soprano Kerstin Meyer (above) had a more extensive Met career than her tenor colleague: she sang the Composer in the Met premiere of ARIADNE AUF NAXOS and also appeared as Carmen and Gluck’s Orfeo at the Old House. Here, as Fricka, she is impressive indeed: she begins lyrically – subtle and sure – and soon works herself into a state of righteous indignation. Her victory over Wotan is a triumph of will. Meyer sings quite beautifully, with clear expressiveness.
Beautiful vocalism also marks the Wotan of Sigurd Björling (above). The voice is not stentorian, though he can punch out some impressive notes; the monologue is internalized, sung with a sense of hopelessness that is quite haunting. Despite errant pitch at times, Björling’s performance is moving and makes me truly regret that the third act is missing.
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Above: Wolfgang Sawallisch
A tremendous performance of GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG from Munich 1977 gave me a great deal of listening pleasure. I spent several hours with this recording, listening to whole acts repeatedly and zeroing in on favorite scenes to savor the individual characterizations of the very fine cast. Maestro Wolfgang Sawallisch’s shaping of the glorious score had a great deal to do with sustaining the air of excitement around this performance.
This GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG was clearly recorded in-house; the sound of the microphone being fumbled with sometimes intrudes, and there are passages where a singer is too far off-mike to make a vocal impact…and other times when the recordist seems to be sitting literally in the singers’ laps.
The first voice we hear is – incredibly – that of Astrid Varnay; essaying the role of the First Norn, Varnay sounds a bit matronly at times, but she is so authoritative and dramatically alert that it hardly matters. Her diction and word-colourings are endlessly admirable, and her low notes have deep, natural power – most especially on her final “Hinab!” As the Second Norn, Hildegard Hillebrecht is a bit unsettled vocally at times (the role lays low for her). Ruth Falcon’s singing of the Third Norn is more lyrical than some who have essayed the role.
Sawallisch’s forward flow provides a nice build-up to Brunnhilde’s first entry; off-mike at first, it soon becomes evident that Ingrid Bjoner is on peak form for this performance. The voice won’t be to all tastes, but its silvery power, impressive lower range, and sustained phrasing which Bjoner brings forth are thrilling to me, a long-time fan. Jean Cox as Siegfried doesn’t quite equal his 1975 Bayreuth performance of the role, but he’s so sure of himself and has both the heft and the vocal stamina that’s needed. As Sawallisch builds the Dawn Duet with passionate urgency, Bjoner spears a couple of splendid high B-flats before her brightly attacked, sustained climactic high-C.
At the Gibichung Hall we meet the excellent Gunther of Hans Günther Nöcker and the vocally less-impressive but involved Gutrune of Leonore Kirchstein (near the end of the opera, she emits a gruesome scream on discovering the truth about Siegfried’s death). The dominating vocal force of the opera from here on in – along with Bjoner – is the resplendently sung and theatrically vivid Hagen of Karl Ridderbusch. The basso’s rendering of ‘The Watch’ is simply incredible.
Another potent performance is the splendid Waltraute of Ortrun Wenkel, who attained international fame for her remarkable performance as Erda in Pierre Chéreau’s 1976 production of the RING Cycle for Bayreuth which was telecast in its entirety and is preserved on DVD. Wenkel’s abundant tone and vivid sense of the character make her scene with the equally thrilling Bjoner Brunnhilde an outstanding part of this performance. If Waltraute’s parting high-A – always a thorny note for a contralto essaying this role – is cut short, it scarcely distracts from the excitement the Bjoner/Wenkel sister-scene has generated.
Bjoner is staunch in her defense of the ring from the attacking Gunther-Siegfried; abetted by Sawallisch and Mr. Cox, the soprano brings the first act of this performance to an exciting close.
But then things soar even higher, for in an Act II that borders on insanity, the maestro and his cast all seemed to be in the grip of madness. The act begins with the eerie scene where Alberich (creepy singing from Zoltan Kelemen) appears as a vision to the sleeping Hagen. The summoning of the vassals is massively impressive, and later, in the great scene of oath-swearing, Cox and Bjoner blaze away. Throughout the act, the ever-keen Sawallisch guides his forces with a masterful hand. Simply thrilling.
A nicely-blended trio of Rhinemaidens (Lotte Schädle, Marianne Seibel, and Liliana Netschewa) give us a lyrical interlude at the start of Act III: all three vocal parts are clearly distinguishable and they are finely supported by the atmospheric playing of the orchestra, with the horn calls very well-managed. Jean Cox is very much on-mike as he encounters the girls: his big, leathery high-C is sustained…and then he chuckles to himself.
Following Hagen’s betrayal, Cox’s farewell to life and to Brunnhilde is wonderfully supported by Sawallisch: the orchestra playing here is so impressive, the tenderness of the final greeting so lovingly conveyed.
Now Sawallish takes up a deep, glowering rendition of the prelude to the Funeral March; contrasts of weight and colour add to the sonic build-up until the great theme bursts forth in its full-blown grandeur. The spot-on trumpet fanfare and the solid assurance of the horns are a great asset here.
Ridderbusch is terrifying in vocal power and cruelty as he seizes control of the scene, but the raising of the hand of the dead Siegfried when Hagen goes for the ring puts Alberich’s son in his place at last. The cleansing descending scale sets the scene for Brunnhilde, and even though Bjoner is off-mike for the opening of the Immolation Scene, she is vocally unassailable: by “Wie sonne laute…” the mike has found her and she shows both great power and great subtlety in this music. Bjoner’s low notes are vivid, her sustained, lyrical thoughts of the ravens imaginatively expressed, and her noble “Ruhe…ruhe, du Gott!” has a benedictive quality and is very moving. Following her passionate disavowal of the ring, the soprano surges forward with a thrilling greeting of Grane and some exalting top notes to seal her great success in this arduous role. Then Sawallisch and the orchestra bring the opera to a mighty close.
Above: Jean Cox and Ingrid Bjoner
Above: pianist Daniil Trifonov
Tuesday November 24th, 2015 – The third and final programme of The New York Philharmonic‘s Rachmaninoff Festival brought us Daniil Trifonov’s triumphant performance of the composer’s 3rd piano concerto as well as the ever-popular Symphonic Dances.
Mr. Trifonov had the audience in the palm of his hand from the moment he walked onstage. He gave a magnificent performance, with terrific support from the orchestra. The 3rd piano concerto is everything the 1st isn’t: both in terms of structure and as a display of the soloist’s technique and artistry, the 3rd readily eclipses the composer’s earlier effort.
Mr. Trifonov’s fluent – indeed astonishing – command of the keyboard held the audience under a spell. Particularly marvelous was the cadenza (the longer of the two provided by the composer) where the young pianist spun out the music to scintillating effect. With cunning inventiveness, Rachmaninoff has the flute suddenly speak up in the midst of the piano’s long paragraph: this wind theme passes on to the oboe, clarinet, and horn before the focus returns to the piano, which ends on a lovely fade-out.
The composer paints on a big orchestral canvas in this concerto: a deep ‘Russian’ theme in the first movement impresses, and later there’s a big dance theme. The Philharmonic’s horns were ablaze tonight, the cellos plush, and the various wind voices piped up expressively.
As the concerto raced to its conclusion, Mr. Trifonov carried the audience along on his dazzling ride. A full-house standing ovation ensued as the young master bowed graciously both to the house and his fellow musicians. I didn’t recognize his encore – and neither did my pianist/friend Ta-Wei – but it was deliciously played.
Above: conductor Ludovic Morlot
The piano had hidden Maestro Morlot during the concerto, but after the interval we had sight of him as he led the orchestra in a colourful performance of Symphonic Dances. New York City Ballet-lovers will be familiar with this score from Peter Martins’ 1994 setting of it. It’s a grand piece, with slashing rhythms in the first movement and a wonderful waltz in the second. Rachmaninoff uses the alto saxophone – a sound I always love to hear – to evocative effect, though I could not find a credit for the soloist in the Playbill. The harp also makes some rhapsodic interjections. Overall the orchestra, with Sheryl Staples as concertmaster, sounded superb and they seemed to truly enjoy playing this piece.
After their rapt attentiveness during the concerto, the audience seemed to lose a bit of focus during the second half of the program. One couple down the row from us feasted on chocolates and Pellegrino whilst texting literally throughout the Symphonic Dances, and the woman on Ta-Wei’s right decided to conduct her own version of the score.
At the end of the concert I asked Ta-Wei if he thought Rachmaninoff was a great composer or just a very good one. He replied: “Well, he knew what he was doing.” True, amply true.
Oberon's Glade 