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Chamber Music Society: Nights in Vienna
Sunday November 22nd, 2015 – Pianist Gilbert Kalish (above) and a septet of his top-notch colleagues met on the stage of Alice Tully Hall this evening for a programme of works by three composers whose lives were linked to the city of Vienna. On a day when we are still trying to comprehend the recent terror attacks in Paris – and also remembering the death of John F Kennedy on this date 52 years ago – Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s offered music that was by turns heartening and thought-provoking, and all of it impeccably played.

When New York’s great musical organizations – Chamber Music Society, the NY Phil, Carnegie Hall, The Met, Young Concert Artists – announce their upcoming seasons each year, I love to pore over the listings, searching for certain works or artists and putting the dates immediately on my calendar. Thus for many weeks I’ve been looking forward to today’s Chamber Music Society concert as an opportunity to experience first-hand Arnold Schoenberg’s Kammersymphonie; I discovered this piece years ago – it was actually my introduction to Schoenberg – and have always wanted to hear it played live. Today’s performance of the Webern arrangement was incredibly vivid.

But, to start at the beginning, this musical celebration of Vienna opened with music of Haydn: the E-minor piano trio. Gilbert Kalish, who played in all three works this evening, is at that marvelous point in his career where his playing retains youthful vitality while his artistry – developed over a long career – is at its peak. His playing was marked by effortless technique, an assured rightness of style in each of the three contrasting works, and an Olde World feeling of grace without theatricality.

Seeming taller and slimmer than the last time I saw him, violinist Nicolas Dautricourt strode onstage and for a moment I mistook him for ABT’s Marcelo Gomes. Mr. Dautricourt is a particular favorite of mine, both to watch and to hear; his stage presence is paradoxically relaxed and intense, and his playing is beautifully nuanced with especial attention to dynamic gradations. Cellist Torleif Thedéen was an ideal colleague for M. Dautricourt today: their rapport was inspiring to watch, aligning the harmonies and relishing the melodic opportunities Haydn has given them. Their affection and respect for Mr. Kalish was clearly evident both here and – later – in the concluding Brahms.

Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony spans a single movement, though the composer has identified five distinct sub-divisions: Sonata (Allegro), Scherzo, Development, Adagio, and Recapitulation and Finale. Originally written for ten wind and five string players, the composer asked his student Anton Webern to re-cast the piece for a smaller ensemble, the better to take it out on tour. The result: twenty-two minutes of sheer musical brilliance.

The Kammersymphonie tonight was given a captivating performance: the quintet of musicians played with such richness of tone, such stimulating sense of colour, and such depth of feeling that one had the impression of a much larger ensemble playing. Gilbert Kalish’s sent waves of plush sound from the Steinway, giving the music an undercurrent of Late-Romantic lyricism; this same feeling was embraced by violinist Kristin Lee who seized upon the composer’s every melodic gesture with her pearly tone. Whenever the music turned more prickly, both Kalish and Lee were up for the adventure.

Tara Helen O’Connor, one of the Society’s elite, sent her flute roulades wafting brightly overall whilst the gorgeous (no other word suffices) tone of Nicholas Canellakis’s cello seems always to achieve a direct hot-wire to the heart-strings.

New to me this evening was clarinetist Tomasso Lonquich (above) who made a spectacular impression both with his sumptuous tone and the passion of his playing. Whether at full cry or honing the sound down to a thread, Mr. Lonquich displayed his mastery at every moment; meanwhile his deep commitment to the music sometimes nearly drew him out of his chair as he polished off Schoenberg’s demanding phrases with compelling sincerity.

This staggeringly opulent ensemble drew a din of applause from the Alice Tully audience; as they took a second bow, my companion Adi – who had professed indifference to Schoenberg’s music before the concert began – found his opinion of the composer transformed. That’s what a great performance can accomplish.

As so often at Chamber Music Society’s concert, I found myself at the interval wondering how this level of music-making could possibly be sustained into the second half. Needless to say, as violist Paul Neubauer joined Mssrs. Kalish, Dautricourt and Thedéen for the Brahms Third Piano Quartet, any thoughts of a letdown were immediately dismissed.

Nearly twenty years were to pass between the time Brahms began working on this quartet (in 1855, at the time of his friend Robert Schumann’s last illness, when Brahms was torn between sorrow for his friend and desperate love for his friend’s wife, Clara) and its publication. His romantic inclinations toward Frau Schumann seem to perfume the music, especially in the third movement.

Tonight, Mr. Kalish’s opening octave set the tone for a performance of beautifully blended voices and outstanding solo passages (Mr. Neubauer’s expressiveness so congenial) which achieved a level of surpassing excellence in the Andante. Here Mr. Thedéen’s opening solo was poignantly set forth, with Mssrs. Dautricourt and Neubauer joining in turn: ravishing…a deep delight. The Andante ends magically, and then Nicolas Dautricourt launched the finale with a finely-turned solo. The audience’s enthusiasm at the end called the players back twice.

There was an odd sensation at times tonight that someone was humming along with the music. At first I thought it might have been some acoustical oddity, but Adi noticed it as well.

Prior to the start of the concert, co-artistic Director Wu Han announced the death of the venerable violinist on teacher Joseph Silverstein. This first movement from the Barber violin concerto shows Silverstein’s poetic qualities and persuasive tone to perfection.

The Repertory:
- Haydn Trio in E minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Hob. XV:12 (1789)
- Schoenberg Kammersymphonie, arranged for Flute, Clarinet, Violin, Cello, and Piano, Op. 9 (arr. Webern) (1906, arr. 1922-23)
- Brahms Quartet No. 3 in C minor for Piano, Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 60 (1855-56, 1874)
The Participating Artists:
Gilbert Kalish , piano

Nicolas Dautricourt , violin

Kristin Lee , violin

Paul Neubauer , viola
Nicholas Canellakis , cello

Torleif Thedéen , cello

Tara Helen O’Connor , flute

Tommaso Lonquich , clarinet
November 22, 2015
More Rachmaninoff @ The NY Phil

Saturday November 21st, 2015 – The New York Philharmonic‘s Rachmaninoff Festival continued tonight, bringing together pianist Daniil Trifonov (above) and conductor Neeme Järvi for the composer’s 4th piano concerto. The evening opened with Arkady Leytush’s orchestration of Rachmaninoff’s Russian Song, Op. 11, No. 3 and ended with Maestro Järvi and the orchestra on peak form for the Rachmaninoff 1st symphony. Incredibly, the symphony was having its NY Philharmonic premiere performances in this series of concerts.

The Russian Song is a deep, soulful song; lasting all of five minutes, it was a beautifully-played prelude for the concerto which followed. The basic theme goes thru moody rhythmic and harmonic shifts, with the sound of chimes and hammered bells giving a liturgical feeling. Just as we are getting immersed in these sounds, the piece is over.

Daniil Trifonov scored another hit with the Philharmonic audience in this, his second program in the orchestra’s Rachmaninoff series. The piano concerto No. 4 took Rachmaninoff nearly two years to complete and the result was unusually long as concertos go. At its premiere in 1927 – with the composer at the keyboard and Leopold Stokowski conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra – the critics bashed the piece and the composer set about editing it; it has come down to us in a relatively compact form of 25 minutes duration.

Mr. Trifonov filled these minutes with luxuriant playing. From its sweeping start thru the pensive opening of the ensuing Largo, the third movement’s vivid cadenza, and on to the uninterrupted and varied demands the composer makes on the pianist in the final Allegro Vivace, Trifonov displayed an ideal blend of lyricism and the virtuosity. Finishing in triumph, the pianist basked in a prolonged standing ovation, and responded to the audience’s cheers with a briskly delicate rendering of the ‘Silver’ Fairy’s variation from SLEEPING BEAUTY. A magical moment.

Neeme Järvi (above)

For all the felicities of Trifonov’s playing, I have to say that the piano concerto #4 didn’t really seize my imagination as a musical experience; but the Symphony No.1 absolutely did.

This symphony was composed in 1895, and its 1897 premiere, conducted by an allegedly drunk Alexander Glazunov, was nothing less than a disaster and sent Rachmaninoff into a deep depression. The work was withdrawn, the score – in a two-piano draft – languishing in the archives of the Glinka Museum in Moscow. It wasn’t until after the composer’s death that the orchestra parts were found in the archives of the Leningrad Conservatory. The symphony was reconstructed in full and given a ‘second premiere’ in Moscow in 1945, where it was at last accorded a warm welcome. It now recognized as a exemplar of the Rachmaninoff style.

The only mystery is why it has taken so long for the Philharmonic to present it, for these performances mark the orchestra’s first of this work. It was an unalloyed pleasure to encounter this symphony live, and thanks to Maestro Järvi and the artists of this great orchestra, the performance was truly engrossing.

A veritable treasure chest of melodic and rhythmic delights, the 1st symphony provides numerous opportunities for the principal players to ‘sing’: Anthony McGill (clarinet), Liang Wang (oboe), and Robert Langevin (flute) all outstandingly clear and true, and tonight’s concertmaster Michelle Kim in a lovely violin solo. A grand passage for massed horns and violins was especially gratifying for me, a one-time horn player.

I gave up trying to take notes (*) midway thru the symphony: I simply wanted to take it all in and savor the live experience. I’ll search the symphony out on YouTube and delve into it more deeply next week, but I do want to mention the particular inventiveness of the concluding Allegro con fuoco which starts with military drum rolls and eventually develops into a true Rachmaninoff ‘big melody’. Liang Wang’s dulcet oboe sounds yet again, then some wonderful rhythmic patterns develop. Things build, and then – out of the blue – there’s a tremendous, walloping bang on the gong: the sound is allowed to evaporate into thin air as the other musicians sit silently. Then they take up a last melodic passage, building to a big finale.

My hope is that this symphony will soon be programmed for additional Philharmonic performances…hopefully under Maestro Järvi’s baton.

* (The main reason I stopped taking notes was the distraction of a cellphone ringing in our immediate vicinity; a minor annoyance during the concerto, it became a full-blown nuisance during the symphony. The ushers came twice to attempt to isolate the source without disrupting the music, but the irritant continued. For a few moments I lost the thread of my concentration, and then I decided just to surrender to the music for the rest of the evening.)

November 21, 2015
An Evening @ New Chamber Ballet

Friday November 20th, 2015 – Miro Magloire’s New Chamber Ballet presenting works by Miro and resident choreographer Constantine Baecher in a nicely-mixed programme of new and olde music – expertly played – and danced by Miro’s uniquely talented band of ballerinas. In the intimate setting of the City Center Studios, there’s a sense of immediacy – both of the music and the dancing – that no other dance company in Gotham can quite match.

In his most recent works, Miro’s choreography has been daring in its exploration of female partnering. Tonight’s concert opened with the premiere of a full version of Gravity, excerpted earlier this season and which I’d seen in a formative rehearsal.

First off, a salute to violinist Doori Na for his impressive rendering of “Six Pieces for Violin” by Friedrich Cerha. The venerable Austrian composer, soon to celebrate his 90th birthday, is currently in the news locally as The Met is offering a new production of Alban Berg’s LULU which Mr. Cerha completed upon Berg’s death.

Gravity was danced tonight by Elisabeth Brown, Traci Finch, and NCB’s newest member Cassidy Hall. The dancers alternate between posing and partnering: a duet for Elizabeth and Traci is observed by Cassidy, who then inserts herself into the dance. Elizabeth’s solo comes as the music falls silent; she then dances with Cassidy in a duet where Elizabeth, at full stretch, is nearly parallel to the floor in displaying a superb line.

The dancers then polish off the ballet with a trio (Traci, Elizabeth and Cassidy, above).

More images from Gravity, photographed by Amber Neff:

Cassidy Hall and Traci Finch

Elizabeth Brown and Cassidy Hall

Someone once wrote of Aristotle Onassis: “He was not the first man to want both his wife and his mistress.” That very notion was the starting point of The Other Woman, Miro’s ‘classic triangle’ ballet set to a classic score: Bach’s B-minor violin sonata.

An en travesti Sarah Atkins, wearing a jaunty fedora, faces the age-old dilemma of the married man as he vacillates between his wife and his lover. Elizabeth Brown and Holly Curran offer contrasting attractions of face, form, and personality; in this very theatrical piece, their dancing is urgent and nuanced. The rival women confront one another while Sarah dances a space-filling solo. In the end it seems no real decision has been reached, and it feels like more chapters are yet to come before this story ends.

Doori Na and pianist Taka Kigawa played the Bach so attractively, and moments later Taka returned play Beat Furrer’s ‘Voicelessness. The snow has no voice’ for Miro’s second premiere of the evening: Voicelessness. Taka’s playing was marvelous right from the murmuring start of the piece; he was able to sustain a pianissimo misterioso atmosphere throughout with great control. This was punctuated with the occasional emphatic high staccato.

In this duet the two dancers – Amber Neff and Cassidy Hall, (above) – perform extremely demanding and intensely intimate feats of partnering. The two girls, abetted by Taka Kigawa’s keyboard, sustained the tension of the work most impressively.

Above: Amber Neff and Cassidy Hall in Voicelessness

More images from Voicelessness; these photos are by Sarah Thea who also designed the costumes for four of the five works seen tonight:

Amber Neff, Cassidy Hall

Amber Neff and Cassidy Hall

Following the interval, Richard Carrick’s score ‘In flow’ for solo violin provided another showcase for Doori Na as Miro’s Friction unfolded. The ballet opens in silence before Doori’s violin sounds hesitantly; the angular, sinuous music includes an alarming forte ‘scrunch’ at one point. Dancers Holly Curran and Amber Neff moved thru the intricate partnering motifs with total assurance and dealt with the technical demands Miro makes on them with cool confidence.

The evening closed with Constantine Baecher’s lively and very original ballet, Mozart Trio, set to excerpts from the composer’s piano sonatas played with genial clarity by Taka Kigawa.

In this ballet about beginnings and endings, the dancers speak: they speak not only of where they are and what they are doing at the moment, but also – more cosmically – of where they are in their lives.

Traci Finch narrates solos by Elizabeth Brown and Sarah Atkins in turn, describing their dancing and giving us bytes of biography. In the second movement, Sarah’s solo takes an autobiographical approach (“I’m in the middle!” she calls out – of her dance, of her career, of her life?). The third movement is an abstracted trio for all three dancers, full of energy and wit, until they reach the self-declared “end of the end!”

New Chamber Ballet‘s next performances are set for February 26th and 27th, 2016. More details will be forthcoming as the dates draw nigh.

November 20, 2015
Vinson Cole

Tenor Vinson Cole sings Richard Strauss’s Morgen.

Vinson Cole – Morgen – Richard Strauss

“And tomorrow the sun will shine once more, and on the path that I will take it will unite us – we fortunate ones – upon this sun-drenched Earth. And to the broad shore with its blue waves we will quietly go down; we will look into one another’s eyes, and the silence of happiness will descend upon us.”

November 18, 2015
Jennifer Muller’s Stages of Creation

Striking a pose: the new Warhol piece by Jennifer Muller at a studio preview

Tuesday November 17th, 2015 – Choreographer Jennifer Muller has been commissioned to create a new dancework for Introdans, the Netherlands-based contemporary dance company. The piece will premiere in February, 2016 on a program entitled Absolutely Amerika. This evening, at her studio on West 24th Street, Ms. Muller presented a sampling of this latest work, along with excerpts from some of the more recent additions to her Company’s repertoire.

The room was packed with Muller friends and fans, and her lively and distinctive troupe of dancers seemed to ignore the fact that this was a studio showing, instead dancing at performance level. The dance-space is limited but the choreography is spacious and often fast-paced; yet the dancers moved with abandon, often coming within centimeters of the viewers – or of the ceiling, during the many lifts that the Muller repertory calls for.

Two excerpts from FLOWERS were offered before dancer Michael Tomlinson (above, warming up) demonstrated a signature motif from the new work, which is inspired by quotes from the late Andy Warhol and is danced to a collage of music associated with the Warhol era.

Above: the opening of MISERERE NOBIS

I was particularly glad of another opportunity to see some passages from Jennifer’s 2014 masterpiece, MISERERE NOBIS, a compelling piece that has lingered in my mind since first encountering it. Originally danced by an all-female cast, Jennifer has now incorporated the Company’s men into this ritualistic work which is danced to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, which was inspired by Allegri’s immortal Miserere. The choreographer’s addition of men to the cast changed the flavor of the work slightly but didn’t diminish its power and beauty in the least.

The evening closed with excerpts from ALCHEMY, an exciting multi-media piece which Ms. Muller premiered at New York Live Arts earlier this year.

The dancers were moving too fast most of the time for my camera to catch them, however here are a few images I was able to capture:

Brittney Bembry, Michelle Tara Lynch

Brittney Bembry

Shiho Tanaka

From MISERERE NOBIS

Seiko Fujita

Alexandre Balmain, Elise King

Sonja Chung

MISERERE NOBIS

Jennifer Muller, ever the perfect hostess

Jennifer Muller/The Works will be at New York Live Arts June 13th – 18th, 2016.

November 18, 2015
Jennifer Muller’s Stages of Creation

Striking a pose: the new Warhol piece by Jennifer Muller at a studio preview

Tuesday November 17th, 2015 – Choreographer Jennifer Muller has been commissioned to create a new dancework for Introdans, the Netherlands-based contemporary dance company. The piece will premiere in February, 2016 on a program entitled Absolutely Amerika. This evening, at her studio on West 24th Street, Ms. Muller presented a sampling of this latest work, along with excerpts from some of the more recent additions to her Company’s repertoire.

The room was packed with Muller friends and fans, and her lively and distinctive troupe of dancers seemed to ignore the fact that this was a studio showing, instead dancing at performance level. The dance-space is limited but the choreography is spacious and often fast-paced; yet the dancers moved with abandon, often coming within centimeters of the viewers – or of the ceiling, during the many lifts that the Muller repertory calls for.

Two excerpts from FLOWERS were offered before dancer Michael Tomlinson (above, warming up) demonstrated a signature motif from the new work, which is inspired by quotes from the late Andy Warhol and is danced to a collage of music associated with the Warhol era.

Above: the opening of MISERERE NOBIS

I was particularly glad of another opportunity to see some passages from Jennifer’s 2014 masterpiece, MISERERE NOBIS, a compelling piece that has lingered in my mind since first encountering it. Originally danced by an all-female cast, Jennifer has now incorporated the Company’s men into this ritualistic work which is danced to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, which was inspired by Allegri’s immortal Miserere. The choreographer’s addition of men to the cast changed the flavor of the work slightly but didn’t diminish its power and beauty in the least.

The evening closed with excerpts from ALCHEMY, an exciting multi-media piece which Ms. Muller premiered at New York Live Arts earlier this year.

The dancers were moving too fast most of the time for my camera to catch them, however here are a few images I was able to capture:

Brittney Bembry, Michelle Tara Lynch

Brittney Bembry

Shiho Tanaka

From MISERERE NOBIS

Seiko Fujita

Alexandre Balmain, Elise King

Sonja Chung

MISERERE NOBIS

Jennifer Muller, ever the perfect hostess

Jennifer Muller/The Works will be at New York Live Arts June 13th – 18th, 2016.

November 17, 2015
Golden Age of the Violin @ CMS
Following the senseless horror of the terrorist attacks in Paris this past Friday, we turn yet again to music as a source of consolation. These words from Leonard Bernstein have echoed thru my mind over this weekend since the appalling news from France reached us: “This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.”

Sunday November 15, 2015 – A trio of superb young violinists were featured at this evening’s concert given by at Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center at Alice Tully Hall. Paul Neubauer and David Finckel – masters of the viola and cello respectively – joined their young colleagues in celebrating the expressive violin style epitomized by the legendary Fritz Kreisler.

Kreisler was in fact the first violinist I ever heard; my parents had some of his recordings and by the age or eight or nine I was already preferring these – and Horowitz, Flagstad, and Toscanini – to my mom’s favorites: Lawrence Welk and the McGuire Sisters.

The first music we heard this evening was also oldest music on the programme: a sonata for two violins by Jean-Marie Leclair. Leclair may be the only violinist/composer in history to have had a highly successful career as a ballet dancer prior to turning to composing full-time around 1723. Today’s sonata dates from 1730 and was played with lively charm by Danbi Um and Sean Lee. Passing the melodies back and forth, the duo were well-matched, nuance for nuance. The tender sadness of the sonata’s Andante graziosa maintained a forward momentum, and then our two violinists sailed confidently thru the swirls of notes than make up the concluding Presto.

Mr. Lee returned to the stage immediately with Benjamin Beilman and Paul Neubauer for Anton Dvorak’s C-major terzetto, composed in 1887. It opens with a tranquil theme, becomes more animated, then gently shifts between moods. After a passage of hesitations, as if unsure where to go next, the composer gives us a warm lullabye-like melody with a genial ending. A feeling of propulsive dance – and a touch of Mendelssohnian sparkle – fills the Scherzo; a central song with the flavour of a country waltz is most attractive, followed by a da capo which sweeps forward in alternating currents of lyrical breadth and teasing delicacy. In the final movement, Mr. Neubauer’s viola had a shivering motif, followed by an impassioned theme from Mr. Beilman; then there’s a brisk rush to the finish.

David Finckel’s name in my Playbill is now triple-underlined and festooned with exclamations marks for his marvelous playing in the Alexander Borodin 1881 D-major quartet. The cello sets the pace for the opening Allegro moderato and is given some heartfelt melodies in the later movements; these were relished by Mr. Finckel whose tone has an intimate, romantic glow.

A Spring-like feeling pervades the opening of the Scherzo: Allegro, and then a familiar tune is heard: my mother would have recognized it as the melody of the 1950s pop song “Baubles, Bangles & Beads” (from the musical KISMET) which was recorded – seemingly – by everyone, including Marlene Dietrich and Frank Sinatra. For all the tune’s appeal, it still sounds best in its original Borodin setting. The second movement then rushes ahead, only to withdraw to a pizzicato fadeout at the end.

Borodin sets the third movement as a Nocturne and Mr. Finckel sets the mood to perfection. Danbi Um, in the first violin chair, then takes up a sweet, high theme. Mssrs. Lee and Neubauer make the middle voices sing, the latter in a lovely melodic exchange with Mr. Finckel’s cello (“Gorgeous blends!” I scrawled in my Playbill.) Ms. Um takes up a shining theme, passing it to Mr. Finckel who descends with it into the cello’s depths. This Nocturne, with all four players deeply immersed in the music, made a particularly satisfying impression. In the concluding movement, the quartet summarized the work in recurrent themes, playing with such conviction that the audience were swept along and responded with especially warm applause, summoning the musicians out for a second bow.

After the interval, Ben Beilman stood alone on the stage and delivered a stunning performance of Eugene Ysaÿe’s E-minor sonata (1924). The work is a virtuosic test piece for which Mr. Beilman gets top marks. This young artist displays thorough technical assurance as well as a masterful control of dynamics. He took the strenuous demands Ysaÿe places on the player in stride, and an appealing aspect of modesty in his delivery endeared him to the crowd. This is a serious musician with something to say to us. The applause that enveloped Mr. Beilman at the end of his dazzling performance was amply deserved, bringing him out for a double curtain call.

No one could blame Fritz Kreisler for featuring the violin in his A-minor quartet: it was, after all, his instrument. Mr. Beilman, fresh from the demands of the Ysaÿe, was at his most lyrically persuasive here, regaling us with the melodic treats Kreisler has laid out for him. Danbi Um seconded Ben’s beautiful playing with many graceful turns of phrase, while Mssrs. Neubauer and Finckel brought Olde World warmth and expressiveness to their playing.

Though rife with melodic felicities, including a waltz tune “mit schlag” and a gorgeously-sustained Ben Beilman high fade-away at the conclusion of the Romanze, the Kreisler quartet is one of those perfectly pleasant works that falls short of being truly memorable. But I can’t imagine it being better-played than it was this evening.

In her welcoming remarks tonight, Chamber Music Society co-artistic director Wu Han had spoken of the distress we have all been feeling after the horrible events in Paris. She said that from Friday night til Sunday morning she had been so consumed with sadness that she couldn’t play the piano, but that at last she sat down to practice and found solace at the keyboard. She promised us that the evening’s programme would be uplifting, and she was right.

The Repertory:
- Leclair Sonata in E minor for Two Violins, Op. 3, No. 5 (1730)
- Dvořák Terzetto in C major for Two Violins and Viola, Op. 74 (1887)
- Borodin Quartet No. 2 in D major for Strings (1881)
- Ysaÿe Sonata in E minor for Violin, Op. 27, No. 4 (1924)
- Kreisler Quartet in A minor for Strings (1919)
The Participating Artists:
Benjamin Beilman , violin

Sean Lee , violin

Danbi Um , violin
Paul Neubauer , viola

David Finckel , cello
November 15, 2015
Britten & Mozart @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Inon Barnatan

Friday October 30th, 2015 matinee – Still recovering from the flu that forced me to miss some scheduled events, I went to The Philharmonic this afternoon knowing I might not make it thru the entire program. But I was very keen to hear Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem – a work that is rarely done – and to hear pianist Inon Barnatan – the Philharmonic’s artist-in-association this season – playing Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23. At intermission I would decide about staying on for the Beethoven 5th.

Last season conductor Jaap van Zweden impressed in a pair of NY Philharmonic concerts that included a magnificent Shostakovich 8th. This afternoon’s performance resoundingly re-affirmed all the positive elements in the conductor’s realm of thought and expression. He is business-like and devoid of theatricality, favoring instead a deeply probing approach to the music. Yet this is not detached, by-the-book music-making, for his interpretations seem flooded with emotion.

The Britten Sinfonia da Requiem was written in 1940 while the composer and his partner Peter Pears were living in Brooklyn. Having left England as a conscientious objector, Britten accepted a commission (from the Japanese, ironically) and set about creating a work – drawing on Latin texts from the Mass for the Dead – that would commemorate the deaths of his parents and also serve as a pacifist’s response to the horrors of war.

The Sinfonia is a magnificent piece, and I wish it would be performed more often so that music-lovers could become better acquainted with it. The work calls for a huge orchestra, including massed phalanxes of violins, violas, cellos, and double basses as well as a large brass contingent and doubled winds, with alto sax, bass clarinet, two harps, and piano adding unexpected hues to the sonic palette.

For the opening Lacrymosa, an initial boom! gives way to brooding; the violas lament and there is an unsettling heartbeat motif. Rampant horns herald a series of ominous chords and doom-ladened drumstrokes. In the Dies Irae which follows, the flutes and horns stutter; the strings take up a brisk, galloping figuration. The heraldic trumpets and the magnificent horns ring forth, and the saxophone brings in an unusual colour. The music becomes almost zany before dwindling to nothing as the work evolves into the final Requiem Aeternum. Harp and winds intone a gentle hymn, taken up by the pensive horns. Bassoon and bass clarinet lead us to an uplifting violin theme, tinged with sadness. The music builds to a huge hymn-like passage and then suddenly reverts to softness: plucked strings over sustained clarinet tones that simply fade into thin air.

The performance was utterly mesmerizing: absolutely gorgeous playing from everyone and all crafted into a splendid whole by Maestro van Zweden. For a passing moment I wondered how it might have been had Britten used a chorus in his Sinfonia, but then I realized he was right in keeping the words unspoken and letting the instruments sing.

The Hall’s wonderfully efficient stagehands then reconfigured the seating and rolled the Steinway into place. Watching and waiting, I felt the contentment of being connected to great music played by great musicians: a feeling that deepened in the ensuing Mozart.

For Mr. Barnatan is nothing less than a wizard of the keyboard, and in this performance of the Piano Concerto No. 23, allied with Maestro van Zweden and cushioned by the genial Philharmonic strings and winds, was indeed magical. The pianist’s control over a vast dynamic range and the sheer fluency of his technique made an excellent impression from the moment he began to play. Mr. Barnatan chose to play the cadenza as Mozart set it in the score; it’s rather brief – as cadenzas go – but very appealing.

The pianist now drew us deeper and deeper into the music with the poetic delicacy of his playing of the Adagio. His solo passages were luminous, and there was lovely support from the wind soloists. A spellbinding sense of dolorous quietude was summoned forth, and a passage of very simple piano statements over plucked strings was most effective.

Then Inon launched a barrage of coloratura to introduce the Allegro assai. Here his playing became ever more magical as he wove a spell of soft enchantment: the finesse of swirl after swirl of delicate notes played at high speed. Called back twice to warm applause, the pianist had clearly cast a spell over the Hall, and I cannot wait to hear him again…could we have the Schumann perhaps??

By now there was no question of leaving – sore throat be damned! and I hadn’t coughed once – and so I was treated to a Beethoven 5th far more beneficial than any medicine.

The Beethoven symphonies don’t always send me, but the 5th truly did today, for Maestro van Zweden and the Philharmonic artists simply soared thru it, with a real sense of the music blooming. I gave up taking notes; aside from the scrawl “…deep resonance of sound!!…” my program page is simply covered with names and exclamation point: “Liang Wang!”…”Langevin!”…”LeClair!”…”McGill”…”the trumpets!”…”Carter Brey!”…and “Philip Myers!!!”

As the plush and regal themes of the third movement sailed forth, I felt yet again the thrill of being connected to music on such an elemental and immediate level. A quote from Robert Schumann in the Playbill so well captured what I experienced today listening to the Beethoven (well, to the entire program, really!) today: “This symphony invariably wields its power over people of every age like those great phenomena of nature that fill us with fear and admiration at all times, no matter how frequently we may experience them.”

Above: Jaap van Zweden in a Marco Borrgreve portrait

A final word about Jaap van Zweden: in the three concerts he’s conducted here that I have experienced, he has shown a mastery of a variety of musical styles and a real affinity for making the familiar seem fresh. After the Beethoven 5th today, the audience gave him an especially appreciative ovation, laced with bravos. Coming out for a second curtain call, the Maestro signaled for the players to stand, but they all shook their heads and left him with a solo bow…and then they joined in the applause, tapping their bows and stamping their feet. It was a lovely moment. In their search for a new Music Director, The Philharmonic may have found their man.

October 31, 2015
Britten & Mozart @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Inon Barnatan

Friday October 30th, 2015 matinee – Still recovering from the flu that forced me to miss some scheduled events, I went to The Philharmonic this afternoon knowing I might not make it thru the entire program. But I was very keen to hear Britten’s Sinfonia da Requiem – a work that is rarely done – and to hear pianist Inon Barnatan – the Philharmonic’s artist-in-association this season – playing Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 23. At intermission I would decide about staying on for the Beethoven 5th.

Last season conductor Jaap van Zweden impressed in a pair of NY Philharmonic concerts that included a magnificent Shostakovich 8th. This afternoon’s performance resoundingly re-affirmed all the positive elements in the conductor’s realm of thought and expression. He is business-like and devoid of theatricality, favoring instead a deeply probing approach to the music. Yet this is not detached, by-the-book music-making, for his interpretations seem flooded with emotion.

The Britten Sinfonia da Requiem was written in 1940 while the composer and his partner Peter Pears were living in Brooklyn. Having left England as a conscientious objector, Britten accepted a commission (from the Japanese, ironically) and set about creating a work – drawing on Latin texts from the Mass for the Dead – that would commemorate the deaths of his parents and also serve as a pacifist’s response to the horrors of war.

The Sinfonia is a magnificent piece, and I wish it would be performed more often so that music-lovers could become better acquainted with it. The work calls for a huge orchestra, including massed phalanxes of violins, violas, cellos, and double basses as well as a large brass contingent and doubled winds, with alto sax, bass clarinet, two harps, and piano adding unexpected hues to the sonic palette.

For the opening Lacrymosa, an initial boom! gives way to brooding; the violas lament and there is an unsettling heartbeat motif. Rampant horns herald a series of ominous chords and doom-ladened drumstrokes. In the Dies Irae which follows, the flutes and horns stutter; the strings take up a brisk, galloping figuration. The heraldic trumpets and the magnificent horns ring forth, and the saxophone brings in an unusual colour. The music becomes almost zany before dwindling to nothing as the work evolves into the final Requiem Aeternum. Harp and winds intone a gentle hymn, taken up by the pensive horns. Bassoon and bass clarinet lead us to an uplifting violin theme, tinged with sadness. The music builds to a huge hymn-like passage and then suddenly reverts to softness: plucked strings over sustained clarinet tones that simply fade into thin air.

The performance was utterly mesmerizing: absolutely gorgeous playing from everyone and all crafted into a splendid whole by Maestro van Zweden. For a passing moment I wondered how it might have been had Britten used a chorus in his Sinfonia, but then I realized he was right in keeping the words unspoken and letting the instruments sing.

The Hall’s wonderfully efficient stagehands then reconfigured the seating and rolled the Steinway into place. Watching and waiting, I felt the contentment of being connected to great music played by great musicians: a feeling that deepened in the ensuing Mozart.

For Mr. Barnatan is nothing less than a wizard of the keyboard, and in this performance of the Piano Concerto No. 23, allied with Maestro van Zweden and cushioned by the genial Philharmonic strings and winds, was indeed magical. The pianist’s control over a vast dynamic range and the sheer fluency of his technique made an excellent impression from the moment he began to play. Mr. Barnatan chose to play the cadenza as Mozart set it in the score; it’s rather brief – as cadenzas go – but very appealing.

The pianist now drew us deeper and deeper into the music with the poetic delicacy of his playing of the Adagio. His solo passages were luminous, and there was lovely support from the wind soloists. A spellbinding sense of dolorous quietude was summoned forth, and a passage of very simple piano statements over plucked strings was most effective.

Then Inon launched a barrage of coloratura to introduce the Allegro assai. Here his playing became ever more magical as he wove a spell of soft enchantment: the finesse of swirl after swirl of delicate notes played at high speed. Called back twice to warm applause, the pianist had clearly cast a spell over the Hall, and I cannot wait to hear him again…could we have the Schumann perhaps??

By now there was no question of leaving – sore throat be damned! and I hadn’t coughed once – and so I was treated to a Beethoven 5th far more beneficial than any medicine.

The Beethoven symphonies don’t always send me, but the 5th truly did today, for Maestro van Zweden and the Philharmonic artists simply soared thru it, with a real sense of the music blooming. I gave up taking notes; aside from the scrawl “…deep resonance of sound!!…” my program page is simply covered with names and exclamation point: “Liang Wang!”…”Langevin!”…”LeClair!”…”McGill”…”the trumpets!”…”Carter Brey!”…and “Philip Myers!!!”

As the plush and regal themes of the third movement sailed forth, I felt yet again the thrill of being connected to music on such an elemental and immediate level. A quote from Robert Schumann in the Playbill so well captured what I experienced today listening to the Beethoven (well, to the entire program, really!) today: “This symphony invariably wields its power over people of every age like those great phenomena of nature that fill us with fear and admiration at all times, no matter how frequently we may experience them.”

Above: Jaap van Zweden in a Marco Borrgreve portrait

A final word about Jaap van Zweden: in the three concerts he’s conducted here that I have experienced, he has shown a mastery of a variety of musical styles and a real affinity for making the familiar seem fresh. After the Beethoven 5th today, the audience gave him an especially appreciative ovation, laced with bravos. Coming out for a second curtain call, the Maestro signaled for the players to stand, but they all shook their heads and left him with a solo bow…and then they joined in the applause, tapping their bows and stamping their feet. It was a lovely moment. In their search for a new Music Director, The Philharmonic may have found their man.

October 30, 2015
TURANDOT at The Met – 2nd of 4

Above: Lise Lindstrom in the Metropolitan Opera’s production of TURANDOT

Monday October 26th, 2015 – It’s always fun to bring someone to the opera who hasn’t been in a while or who is unfamiliar with a particular work. When my choreographer/friend Lydia Johnson and I decided to spend an evening at The Met, I quickly settled on Franco Zeffirelli’s classic production of TURANDOT. In an age where less is supposedly more when it comes to opera stagings, this TURANDOT clings to the forbidden notion that grand opera should still be grand. Is this the sort of thing the public really wants to see? A virtually full house, including tons of young people, seemed to be saying “Yes!”

It was a good performance, but in the end it was the opera itself that was the star of the evening. Beyond the Chinoiserie which decorates the score, we have Puccini – the master-orchestrator – creating harmonies and textures that are so atmospheric. Lydia was fascinated by what she was hearing; I told her she must try FANCIULLA DEL WEST next.

The Met Orchestra were on optimum form – and the chorus, too. Both forces were capable of lusty vigor one moment and subtle delicacy the next. Conductor Paolo Carignani paced the opera superbly and brought forth much detail from the musicians; a tendency to cover the singers at times should have been resolved by this point in the run, but instead the conductor went blithely on, seemingly unable to comprehend that a forte for Marcelo Alvarez is not the same as a forte for Mario del Monaco.

For all that, the singing for the most part was pleasing and well-tuned to the drama of the work. David Crawford was an excellent Mandarin, ample-toned and investing the words with proper authority. Ronald Naldi as the Emperor Altoum projected successfully from his throne on Amsterdam Avenue, and Eduardo Valdes, Tony Stevenson, and – especially – Dwayne Croft made the most of the Ping-Pang-Pong scene.

James Morris’ aged timbre made a touching effect in the music of the blind king Timur. Leah Crocetto’s soprano sounded a bit fluttery at the start, but she moved the audience with her lovingly-shaped “Signore ascolta” and was excellent in her third act scene, winning the evening’s loudest cheers at curtain call. While Marcelo Alvarez is clearly over-parted by Calaf’s music, a more thoughtful conductor could have aided the tenor in turning his lyrical approach to the role into something perfectly viable. But that didn’t happen, and while there were many handsome moments in Alvarez’s singing, at the climax of “Nessun dorma” the conductor was of no help. There was no applause after this beloved aria, even though it was actually quite beautifully sung.

Lise Lindstrom is undoubtedly the most physically appealing Turandot I have ever beheld, and she also manages to make the character something more than a cardboard ice queen. Lindstrom’s lithe, attractive figure and her natural grace of movement were great assets in her portrayal; she looked particularly fetching in those scenes where she’s divested of the heavy robes and headpieces and seems like a young princess, almost vulnerable in her sky-blue gown and long black hair.

After a couple of warm-up phrases in which there was a trace of cloudiness in her upper-middle voice, Lindstrom’s singing took on its characteristic high-flying power as she pulled the treacherous high notes out of thin air with assured attacks. The narrative “In questa reggia” was presented as both a vocal and verbal auto-biography, her upper range zinging over the orchestra. Lindstrom’s Riddle Scene was vividly dramatic; having experienced defeat, her plea to Altoum was urgent and moving, and the she advanced downstage to deliver the two shining top-Cs over the massed chorus. Her acting as Calaf offered her a way out was detailed and thoughtful.

In Act III Lindstrom was totally assured vocally, with a persuasive melting at Calaf’s kiss and a nuanced rendering of “Del primo pianto”; in the high phrases following the prince’s revelation of his name, the soprano was very much at home. She ended the opera on a high B-flat attacked softly and then expanded to a glistening brilliance.

Lydia was very moved by the opera – and especially taken with the gestural language of Chiang Ching’s choreography – and we stayed to cheer the singers. She agreed with me, though, that dramatically the “happy ending” is incomprehensible. That Calaf should want to marry a woman who has sent dozens of men to their deaths, threatened to torture his own father, and caused the suicide of the faithful Liu just doesn’t make sense. But then, fairy tales seldom do.

Metropolitan Opera House October 26th, 2015
TURANDOT Giacomo Puccini Turandot................Lise Lindstrom Calàf...................Marcelo Álvarez Liù.....................Leah Crocetto Timur...................James Morris Ping....................Dwayne Croft Pang....................Tony Stevenson Pong....................Eduardo Valdes Emperor Altoum..........Ronald Naldi Mandarin................David Crawford Maid....................Anne Nonnemacher Maid....................Mary Hughes Prince of Persia........Sasha Semin Executioner.............Arthur Lazalde Three Masks: Elliott Reiland, Andrew Robinson, Amir Levy Temptresses: Jennifer Cadden, Oriada Islami Prifti, Rachel Schuette, Sarah Weber-Gallo
Conductor...............Paolo Carignani

October 27, 2015