Tag: Balanchine

Emanuel Ax|Stéphane Denève @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Emanuel Ax

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday October 26th, 2019 – How wonderful to encounter Emanuel Ax again so soon after his lovely performance of the Schumann piano quintet with the Dover Quartet last week at Zankel Hall. Tonight the great pianist joined The New York Philharmonic for Beethoven’s Piano Concerto #1.

The announced program looked long on paper, and indeed – after an engrossing first half – there was something of a slump with Albert Roussel’s 3rd symphony. It’s understandable that Maestro Stéphane Denève would want to include it, but somehow it did not quite fit in with the other works: it didn’t hold hold up well in the company of Beethoven and Ravel.

Above: composer Jennifer Higdon

Jennifer Higdon’s blue cathedral, composed in 2000 in memory of her brother, opened the evening. Read the composer’s eloquent program note on this work here.

blue cathedral opens with most ethereal of sounds: barely audible at first, the music slowly seeps into our consciousness. Cello, the plaintive flute, clarinet, piano, and harp bring their colours to bear; the strings are lush and grand, with the high violins set against the deep celli and basses. A massive wave of drums and low brass hits like a tsunami. The marimba, oboe, and Cynthia Phelps’ dusky viola are heard: each solo voice seems to evoke a particular memory of the departed.

The music then becomes cinematic, with a back-beat dynamic. Brass fanfares lead to epic grandeur before calm sets in. Now the solo voices are heard again – flute, clarinet, oboe – and an especially fine passage for a cello/viola quartet as the music fades to the gentle chiming of a solitary bell.

In her program note, Ms. Higdon wrote about her use of the clarinet, which was her brother’s instrument. It was in the passages for that instrument, sublimely played by the inimitable Pascual Martínez-Forteza, that Ms. Higdon’s moving tribute to her sibling found its most poignant voice.

Emanuel Ax, ever a welcome guest at the Philharmonic, was warmly greeted as he took his place at the Steinway. The pianist sat quietly as the musical introduction – at first courtly, then stately – sets the mood. Mr. Ax then began his enchanting performance: crystal-clear arpeggios, subtly modulated, drew us in. Beethoven’s font of melody – both for the pianist and the orchestra – is filled to overflowing. In a long paragraph, the pianist displayed his gifts with nimble downhill scales played pianissimo, and cascades of notes of great delicacy, clarity, and warmth.

Following a majestic orchestral passage, the long cadenza – which seems almost like a sonata in itself – was impeccably delivered, the audience in a state of rapt attentiveness. One sensed that an ovation might erupt at this point, but Maestro Denève was able to forestall an intrusion by keeping a cautionary hand raised.

Now came the Largo, featuring one of Beethoven’s most gorgeous themes. For the next several minutes, my companion and I were transfixed by the ongoing dialog between Mr. Ax’s keyboard and Pascual Martínez-Forteza’s clarinet. Two great musicians, trading subtleties: mesmerizing!

Mr. Ax immediately commenced the concerto’s concluding Rondo: Allegro, bringing to mind – with its jaunty interjections – the ballet Prism which Helgi Tomasson choreographed to this score for New York City Ballet in 2000. The esteemed pianist continued to dazzle us right to the last note, causing the audience to leap to their collective feet as he took his bows; Mr. Martínez-Forteza was also asked to rise, deservedly so.

An encore was demanded, and Mr. Ax sustained the ballet connection for me with his Chopin, used by Jerome Robbins in his ballet Dances at a Gathering.

Following the interval, Maestro Stéphane Denève (above) brought us two works by his fellow Frenchmen: Albert Roussel’s Symphony #3 (composed 1929-1930) and Maurice Ravel’s immortal La Valse, which premiered in 1930.

The Roussel at first seemed wonderfully refreshing: its jazzy, driven, bustling opening augured well for thorough enjoyment. Yet as the work unfolded, it seemed full of ideas but lacking in coherence. The first, second, and fourth movements each felt overly long, and there was a sense of increased audience restlessness. The piece features a lot of ‘big’ music; rhythmic variety and enticing instrumentation are never lacking. Though poignant, witty, and ebullient by turns, the music slips in one ear and out the other, leaving little lasting impression. Some wonderful solo passages for violin, played beautifully by Frank Huang, were appealing.

Above: New York City Ballet’s Marika Anderson in George Balanchine’s La Valse

“We are dancing on the edge of a volcano…” wrote Maurice Ravel’s in his notes for La Valse. Such a timely concept, as our world these days often seems to be rushing toward its doom. This music, which George Balanchine choreographed for his evocative “death and the maiden” ballet of the same title, has been with me for decades.

Tonight’s performance, under Maestro Denève’s ardent baton, was everything one can hope for in this marvelous music. The musicians made the most of every opportunity, whether by solo or by section. La Valse again entranced with its dark allure and inevitability. Resistance is futile.

As we were walking down to the subway, my friend Cherylyn Lavagnino and I both spoke of the effect that the playing of Mssrs Ax and Martínez-Forteza in the Beethoven adagio had on us, and of the consolation of such musical experiences in these dark days. Thank you, gentlemen.

~ Oberon

October 26, 2019
ABT Studio Company @ The Joyce

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday April 25th, 2019 – The American Ballet Theatre Studio Company has three evenings at The Joyce this week; I went on the second night for a program in which a pair of well-beloved pas de deux book-ended four new (or very recent) works.

Tarantella, George Balanchine’s Neapolitan duet set to music by Louis Moreau Gottschalk, opened the evening. When the dancers made their entrance, my first thought was that they were too tall for this ballet. They executed all the steps and went thru the motions well enough, but their dancing didn’t sparkle, and the feeling of imminent sex was missing. Perhaps it’s been toned down for the MeToo crowd.

Neon by Claudia Schreier, having its New York premiere, is set to music by Marc Mellits. The dancers, wearing black belted in teal, look sleek and dashing. At curtain rise, two men stand in a pool of light, one behind the other, their arms in sweeping arcs seeming to depict the hands of a clock. Then the dance erupts to the propulsive Mellits music. The sometimes complex partnering motifs Ms. Schreier demands of her dancers are smoothly executed; this is a choreographer who likes to set challenges for her dancers, then rehearse them astutely so they end up looking well-polished.

Neon’s first movement ends with all eight dancers in a circle, taking up the rotating arm gestures of the work’s opening moments. A series of departures clears the stage for a men’s trio in which the women eventually join. Sub-groups come and go, enhanced by excellent lighting. The ballet’s third section opens with a striking overheard lift, the couple commencing a luminous pas de deux, wherein Ms. Schreier’s choice of music pays off handsomely. The concluding movement, alive with musical agitation, displays the choreographer’s trademark surety of structure into which a sense of contemporary poetry has been woven.

As with every Schreier work I have seen to date, Neon ended with the audience whooping up a storm. The choreographers should have been given a bow after their respective ballets tonight, so we could properly show our appreciation.

Overture by Ethan Stiefel is a ballet that mixes – in perfect measure – gorgeousness with wit. In choosing Beethoven’s Egmont overture, Mr. Stiefel is already halfway down the road to success. And a success it was, in every respect: from the stunning opening tableau with the dancers classically arranged in silhouette, Overture is a pleasure to watch…and to hear.

The dancers are prettily costumed in traditional ballet style, but soon we notice contemporary touches – each man has one bare arm. The dancing also mixes old with new: a Romantic atmosphere has been established, and the choreography abounds in classic vocabulary and time-honored partnering themes; but modern modes crop up – a shoulder-shrugging motif and some quirky port de bras keep the ballet vivid. The dancers excelled here, taking their cues from the Beethoven score and bringing touches of tongue-in-cheek charm to their dancing. Overture is a winner on all counts.

Returning to my seat after the intermission, I found the curtain already up. Soon a lone dancer ambled onto the stage and began chatting us up. The performance of Pliant by Stefanie Batten Bland, he told us, had already started…and we were to be part of it. Dancers moved up and down the aisles, supposedly ‘interviewing’ audience members. Since they did not have hand mikes, the rest of us were not privy to these conversations, so we sat there twiddling our thumbs.

Finally the dancers hauled themselves up onto the stage and, to nondescript music, they struck poses and did a bit of dancing (nothing strenuous). While this was going on, I was thinking that I could have been home doing my ironing, whilst one of my fellow writers seated nearby fell deeply asleep. Pliant is exactly the kind of clever, now-for-something-different “ballet” that has dampened my enthusiasm for dance in recent years.

Gemma Bond’s Interchangeable Text was a perfect restorative. Some people think Philip Glass has been done to death in the dance world; I disagree, and I’m glad Gemma shares my feeling that it’s ideal music for dancing. Her ballet, impeccably danced by four couples, had the benefit of atmospheric lighting.

Interchangeable Text opens with a male dancer alone in a pool of light; the music comes from the “romantic” Glass catalog. Soon it begins to pulse, and the dance takes off. Ms. Bond shows off her gift for making classic ballet combinations look fresh. Through ever-shifting patterns, the eight dancers are fully-engaged, the music being their springboard. A chain of pas de deux commences, each couple in turn having their chance to shine. The ballet ends as it began, with the man isolated in the glowing circle.

The Don Quixote ‘Wedding Suite’ brought the evening to an end; danced with fine technique, lively spirit, and a dash of allure à l‘Espagnole by Chloe Misseldine and Joseph Markey, this gave the hardcore classical ballet fans in the audience something to cheer about. The two ‘bridesmaid’ solos were woven in, and though they were not named in this evening’s cast list, I believe the dancers were Leah Baylin and Kanon Kimura, who were dancing these solos on the other two nights.

The ABT Studio Company has always been a place to spot stars of the future: it’s where I first saw David Hallberg dancing! Tonight, one dancer who often caught my eye was Melvin Lawovi, a native of Toulouse. It did not surprise me to read that Mr. Lawovi is the recipient of The David Hallberg Scholarship.

~ Oberon

April 25, 2019
Gražinytė-Tyla|Rachvelishvili|MET Orchestra

Above: Anita Rachvelishvili, the stellar soloist at Carnegie Hall tonight

~ Author: Oberon

Friday May 18th, 2018 – Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla conducting The MET Orchestra with mezzo-soprano soloist Anita Rachvelishvili at Carnegie Hall. Works by Debussy, Mussorgsky, and Tchaikovsky were on the bill.

Claude Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune opened the evening; this score, now beloved of ballet fans worldwide, was the setting for the controversial ballet by Vaslav Nijinsky who – at its 1912 premiere in Paris – caused a scandal with his portrayal of the exotic faun. It has since been performed in various choreographic versions, most notably that of Jerome Robbins for New York City Ballet (1953) where it remains a mainstay of the repertoire.

Tonight, The MET Orchestra brought just the right glow of mystery and languid sensuality to this music. Beautifully atmospheric playing from flautist Seth Morris was an outstanding feature of the performance; his solo bow rightfully drew bravos. Throughout, the numerous wind and harp solo passages were poetically played. At times, the pacing seemed just a shade too fast; but the overall effect was sublime. So nice to see the Met’s peerless concertmaster, David Chan, getting out of the pit and out onto the stage where his musicianship could shine the brighter.

Ms. Rachvelishvili (above, in a Chris Lee photo from the performance) then appeared for Modest Mussorgsky’s Songs and Dances of Death (performed in the Shostakovich orchestration). The Georgian mezzo, who is making quite a name for herself these days, looked and sounded splendid, with her softer singing carrying superbly in the Hall, and producing a thrilling effect when she unleashed her full power.

Songs and Dances of Death, composed in the mid-1870s, is a set of four songs. In Lullabye, a mother cradles her sick child, who grows increasingly feverish. Death appears, disguised as a babysitter, and rocks the infant to eternal sleep. Here Ms. Rachvelishvili displayed a haunting use of almost straight-tone, employed as a means of lyrical expression. Her timbre is darkish, wine-coloured, with a haunting quality.

Serenade depicts the figure of Death waiting outside the window of a dying woman, serenading her like a wooing lover. Ms. Rachvelishvili was simply magnificent here, the lushness and house-filling strength of her voice making a vivid impression. The music rises to a passionate conclusion.

In Trepak, a drunken peasant stumbles outside into the snow and becomes caught in a blizzard. The figure of Death invites him to dance the Trepak with him. The drunken man freezes to death, dreaming of summer fields and doves. The song starts softly, then a rhythmic figuration springs up; the bass-clarinet is prominent. Ms. Rachvelishvili’s vocal power, unleashed, was something to hear; and she brought forth some simply massive chest tones. For all the thrill of her voluminous, rich sound, she can also be extraordinarily subtle.

The Field Marshal is the final song, wherein the figure of Death is depicted as an officer summoning the dead troops of opposing armies after a horrific battle. As the ghostly soldiers parade before him, the Field Marshall speaks of them in remembrance. A bit of tension on some of the singer’s upper notes was swept aside by the visceral impact of her singing; in a calmer interlude, the straight-tone was again brought forth to extraordinary effect.

Ms. Rachvelishvili received rapturous applause and was called back twice for additional bows. Someone handed flowers up to her, always nice to see. The crowd clearly wanted an encore, but perhaps the singer knew best; she left us with the echoes of the powerful Mussorgsky songs.

Following the interval, Ms. Gražinytė-Tyla led Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 in which the orchestra shone. Written in 1877-1878, the symphony is dedicated to the composer’s patroness and ‘dear friend,’ Nadezhda von Meck.

Following his catastrophic marriage to his former student, Antonina Miliukova, which lasted all of two months, Tchaikovsky began writing his fourth symphony. Struggling with his sexuality and battling depression, he produced a symphony which, he is quoted as saying, is about Fate: “the fatal power which prevents one from attaining the goal of happiness”.

The 4th is vastly pleasing in so many respects, with its titanic fanfares, its plaintive oboe solo in the Andantino, its originality in a Scherzo full of plucking strings, and the rush and plush of the final Allegro con fuoco. What is doesn’t do – for me, at any rate – is reach the depths of feeling that the composer so often evoked in other works.

Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla’s extremely animated podium style became wearying to watch after a while. This orchestra plays so well on their own; the musicians hardly need a conductor at all. Constantly in motion, Ms. Gražinytė-Tyla rose on her toes, hopped up and down, waved her baton overhead, and energetically gave cues. I ended up closing my eyes, to avoid this visual distraction.

Though the 4th does not seem to me to be peak Tchaikovsky – though the composer himself thought highly of it, apparently – it did make me long to see EUGENE ONEGIN, SWAN LAKE, SLEEPING BEAUTY, and Balanchine’s SERENADE.

There were empty seats around me, and the couple behind me remarked that the MET Orchestra series no longer seems to be the sell-out it has always been in seasons past. I wonder if the absence of James Levine has anything to do with it?

~ Oberon

May 18, 2018
Through The Great War @ CMS

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday February 20th, 2018 – When I was in school, The Great War was rather glossed over by my history teachers; they always seemed to focus on World War II, which had ended just two decades before I graduated from high school. But my sixth grade teacher made us study World War I, which he felt had been a “stupid war” in that it solved nothing in itself but set the stage for Adolf Hitler’s rise. My teacher had served in World War II, and one day he brought in some big picture books which included horrific photos from the liberated concentration camps. This was my introduction to the Holocaust: those images have haunted me ever since as my first encounter with “man’s inhumanity to man”. My sixth grade teacher teacher eventually committed suicide.

This article helped me put The Great War in context by relating it to the world situation some 100 years on. For a more personal view of life during the war years, Vera Brittain’s TESTAMENT OF YOUTH – and the deeply moving film based on it – brings the lives (and deaths) of men who served and the women who waited for them vividly to life.

The glory and horror of wars thru the centuries have inspired works in all forms of literature and art, from poems to operas to paintings and architectural monuments. Wartime has given rise to great music, much of it painfully beautiful. It was just such music that we heard tonight at Alice Tully Hall as Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center presented works by Hungarian, French, and English composers written during the time of the Great War.

Above: composer Ernő Dohnányi

The evening opened with Ernő Dohnányi’s Quintet No. 2 in E-flat minor for Piano, Two Violins, Viola, and Cello, Op. 26 (1914). I admit to being unfamiliar with this composer’s music, but after hearing this sumptuously-played quintet tonight, I agree completely with violinist Alexander Sitkovetsky’s remark in his program note that Dohnányi is seriously underrated. The composer, who passed away in 1960, left a sizeable catalog of works – from operas, symphonies, and concerti to chamber and solo piano pieces. Hopefully the enthusiastic reception of the quintet tonight will prompt the Society to program more of the Hungarian composer’s music in future.

Mr. Sitkovetsky was joined for this evening’s performance by fellow violinist Cho-Liang Lin, violist Paul Neubauer, cellist Keith Robinson, with Orion Weiss at the Steinway.

From its doleful – almost chantlike – opening, the Allegro non troppo moves on the pulsing of Mr. Lin’s violin to an anticipatory piano theme, in which Mr. Weiss reveled, with the strings in rich harmonies. The piano grows rhaosodic, and Mr. Sitkovetsky takes up a wistful melody, then Mssrs Neubauer and Lin carry it forward. The music elevates to the grand scale, full of passion. Blissful piano music is heard, while the sound of Paul Neubauer’s viola kept breaking my heart. Tenderness and mystery entwine towards a gentle ending.

The viola inaugurates the Intermezzo with a cordial invitation to dance, the music waltz-like with a Viennese lilt. A sprightly dance pops up, led by brilliantly decorative playing from Mr. Weiss; things turn light and witty. Over rolling waves from the piano, the violin and viola sing again. Pulsing strings lead on to a quiet finish.

The Finale opens with the lamenting song of Mr. Robinson’s cello; in canon, the viola, violin-2 and -1 fall in. The mood is somber, reflective, with dense harmonies. A reverential theme from Mr. Weiss carries us to a sublime string passage. Thru modulations, we return to the opening canon-theme. A rising tempo means rising passion, which expands only to subside into a reunion with the cello’s theme over misterioso piano. The atmosphere becomes achingly beautiful, with sweet sailing on high from the Sitkovetsky violin. Lush, rhapsodic music tears at the heart. Then comes a gentle, descending motif from the piano as the music evaporates into thin air. Magnificent playing from all, with the enraptured audience savoring every moment.

Maurice Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin was originally composed for solo piano; the composer orchestrated it in 1920, and it was this version that George Balanchine used for his 1975 ballet Le Tombeau de Couperin which I have seen – and loved – countless times over the years. The music was later arranged by for wind quintet by Mason Jones, using four of the original six piano movements. It was this setting for wind instruments that we heard tonight.

With these pieces, Ravel honored the memory of six friends he’d lost to the war. But rather than convey feelings of doom or despair, the pieces are by turns charming, noble, and even witty: what wonderful people these six friends must have been to inspire such music.

Chamber Music Society put together yet another first-class ensemble for these Ravel gems: Sooyun Kim, with her flûte enchantée, Romie De Guise-Langlois (clarinet), James Austin Smith (oboe), Marc Goldberg (bassoon), and Eric Reed (horn). To say that they made beautiful music together would be an understatement.

The Prelude is wonderfully ‘busy’ music, with swirling motifs from the oboe and silvery piping from the flute. Ms. De Guise-Langlois, who gets such glamorous tone from her clarinet, always delights me – I was so happy to hear her again tonight – and the mellow bassoon and dulcet horn bring more colours to the mix. Birdsong hovers as the Fugue begins, again with the fluent playing of Mssrs. Goldberg and Reed varying from rich to subtle as the music flows along. James Austin Smith’s oboe was gracefully prominent in the Springlike Menuet, the theme taken up by the flute. Near the end, Romie’s clarinet sings as the music concludes on a rather jazzy note, with a bassoon trill. Sooyun Kim’s sparkling flute opens the Rigaudon, with Eric Reed’s horn clear and warm-toned. An interlude brings a sinuous oboe passage with a Mideastern feeling, the bassoon in a downward tread, before a brief resumption of the opening rigaudon tune comes to a quick, witty end.

Edward Elgar’s Quintet in A minor for Piano, Two Violins, Viola, and Cello, Op. 84, dating from 1918-19, begins hesitantly before weeping violins set a mood, gorgeously sustained by Mr. Robinson’s cello. A lovely slow dance develops a sense of irony from Mr. Lin’s violin. Emerging from a big tutti comes the deep voice of the cello in a descending motif: more marvelous playing from Mr. Robinson. Mr. Weiss sets out big piano statements met by agitated strings as passions arise, subsiding for phrases from viola and violin-2 (Mr. Sitkovetsky). Close harmonies and a long, out-of-the-air cello note herald yet another cello highlight, full of longing. The initial hesitancy of the movement returns before a quiet plucking signals an end.

There’s nothing quite like an Elgar Adagio, and this one finds Paul Neubauer at his most ravishing in a sustained viola theme of heartrending beauty. Continuing gorgeousness as viola, cello, and Steinway exchange phrases; Mr. Lin’s violin passage is lovely hear. The glorious mix of voices becomes overwhelming: this music goes right thru me, it’s so heartfelt as Mr. Weiss’s intoxicating playing propels it along. Turning bittersweet, and then to a hymn of peace, the vibrant, emotional playing of the five artists made this a deeply moving experience.

In the concluding Moderato-Allegro, with the developing passion of its opening, there’s a forward impetus. The ebb and flow of dynamics and harmonies is magically sustained by the players, carrying us thru a misterioso moment, a violin duet, a tremelo motif from the viola, and an animated yet poignant passage to sustain our emotional involvement. It’s the piano again that urges the music forward; a great restlessness looms up, and then subsides, only to re-bound to a triumphant yet dignified finish.

A great night of music-making, in terms of both programming and playing: just what we’ve come to expect from Chamber Music Society.

~ Oberon

February 21, 2018
Franck & Ravel @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet

Author: Oberon

Saturday January 20th, 2018 matinee – This afternoon’s program at The New York Philharmonic might have been subtitled Music for Dancing: we heard a chamber score that’s been transformed into a ballet, and – after the interval – a succession of works inspired by dance forms: a sarabande, a set of waltzes, and finally a boléro that has become one of the most famous musical works ever created.

From time to time, The Philharmonic programs a chamber work; this not only adds a new dimension to a given performance, but affords fans of the orchestra an opportunity to enjoy hearing some of the esteemed artists of The Philharmonic in a front-and-center setting.

This afternoon, a sterling performance of César Franck’s Piano Quintet brought guest pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet together with a quartet of extraordinary string players to play this gorgeous score – music used by choreographer Justin Peck for his lush and exquisite 2014 ballet Belles-Lettres at New York City Ballet.

César Franck had fallen in love with one of his pupils, Augusta Holmès, who he met in 1875. The Piano Quintet was written under the influence of Franck’s romantic obsession, and thus was detested by Madame Franck to the end of her days. Composer Camille Saint-Saëns (no less) played the piano for the Quintet’s premiere performance, but he seems to have been offended by the music’s sensuality; Saint-Saëns rejected Franck’s proposal of dedicating the quintet to him.

The players for the Franck quintet this afternoon were Sheryl Staples and Michelle Kim (violins), Cynthia Phelps (viola), and Eileen Moon-Myers (cello) with Mr. Thibaudet at the Steinway. The opening movement, Molto moderato quasi lento, commences with a violin theme played by Sheryl Staples; Ms. Staples throughout the Quintet played with ravishing lyricism. Mr. Thibaudet enters with a somewhat hesitant phrase, and then Ms. Moon-Myers’ dusky cello joins. The piano turns dreamy before a sudden eruption. Ms. Staples and Cynthia Phelps’ richly shaded viola savour every opportunity, and the Quintet has an especially nice role for the second violin which Ms. Kim set forth with lovely tone.

The strings play in unison over a turbulent piano motif; a change to a more pensive mood finds piano and strings alternating. There’s a spacious, impassioned passage before the movement’s enigmatic end.

Late seating at this point was a serious distraction; the players waited patiently as latecomers stumbled to their seats. Ms. Staples was then thankfully able to re-establish the mood quickly with her silken playing of the soft, longing theme over hushed keyboard that opens the Lento con molto sentimento. A heart-wrenching descending motif for piano and cello announces a hauntingly beautiful passage with a poignant mix of voices. Then Mr. Thibaudet takes up another set of descending notes, like raindrops – or heartbeats. Ms. Staples plays with overwhelming beauty; the hesitancy of the piano recurs, and the cellist sustains a remarkable deep note. Mr. Thibaudet in the high register and Ms. Staples’s sweetest tones bring this romantic reverie to an end.

The concluding Allegro non troppo ma con fuoco opens with Ms. Kim’s agitato figuration which Ms. Staples joins; the piano sounds almost ominous. Unison strings play over an active keyboard, evoking a sense of mystery and restlessness. A big, waltz-like buildup suddenly evaporates into an ethereal violin passage: Ms. Staples again at her finest. The music then grows unsettled in its rush to an abrupt finish.

Warm enthusiasm greeted the quintet of players as they came out for a bow; I had hopes of an encore, but the stage was now to be re-set for the full orchestra.

Joshua Weilerstein (above) took the podium for the second half of this afternoon’s program, which opened with Ravel’s orchestration of Claude Debussy’s Sarabande et Danse. The sarabande originated in Central America as a dance for women, accompanied by castanets; it had an Arabian lilt. But the sarabande was regarded as too provocative, and was banned. Later the French took it on as a much more staid dance, at a slower tempo.

Ravel’s setting of this piece, which Debussy wrote for solo piano, opens with a wind chorale; a full string section, with lovely basses, take over. Solo moments crop up – for clarinet (Anthony McGill), bassoon (Judith LeClair) and a trumpeter who I couldn’t see. The work ends with the sound of a gong which fades to nothingness. By contrast, the Danse was upbeat, showing Ravel’s orchestrational gifts to vivid effect. The harp and horn had their moments, and overall this coloristic, rhythmic little gem glowed.

The Valses nobles et sentimentales is a suite of waltzes published in 1911 by Maurice Ravel as piano solos; an orchestral version was published in 1912. The title was chosen in homage to Franz Schubert, who had published a set of waltzes in 1823 entitled Valses nobles and Valses sentimentales. The Ravel orchestrated setting has a strong balletic association: Balanchine used them for his eerie La Valse, wherein a young girl is stalked by Death in a haunted ballroom.

Mr. Weilerstein gave a vibrant interpretation, played fantastically by the huge orchestra. Mr. McGill (and a flautist I could not see from my location) made particularly fine impressions.

Ravel’s Boléro was the closing work on the program, and it’s always great fun to hear it played live. Ravel composed this best-known of his works in 1928 for a ballet choreographed by Bronislava Nijinsky for Ida Rubinstein. Consisting only of repetitions of the same C-major theme over the same insistent rhythm, Boléro hypnotizes with its constant shifts in instrumentation as the music unfolds in one long, slow crescendo.

The thrill of today’s performance for a devotee of the NY Phil such as myself was in hearing the various solo voices of the orchestra take up the tune: flute, clarinet, bassoon, saxophone (wow, this guy was really wailing!), and on and on in various combinations. And all the while, the relentlessly diligent strings pluck and the snare drums maintain the pace, starting softly and turning militant as the Boléro sways onward with mesmerizing inevitability.

The crowd went absolutely wild as Boléro ended: everyone stood up and yelled.

~ Oberon

January 21, 2018
Franck & Ravel @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet

Author: Oberon

Saturday January 20th, 2018 matinee – This afternoon’s program at The New York Philharmonic might have been subtitled Music for Dancing: we heard a chamber score that’s been transformed into a ballet, and – after the interval – a succession of works inspired by dance forms: a sarabande, a set of waltzes, and finally a boléro that has become one of the most famous musical works ever created.

From time to time, The Philharmonic programs a chamber work; this not only adds a new dimension to a given performance, but affords fans of the orchestra an opportunity to enjoy hearing some of the esteemed artists of The Philharmonic in a front-and-center setting.

This afternoon, a sterling performance of César Franck’s Piano Quintet brought guest pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet together with a quartet of extraordinary string players to play this gorgeous score – music used by choreographer Justin Peck for his lush and exquisite 2014 ballet Belles-Lettres at New York City Ballet.

César Franck had fallen in love with one of his pupils, Augusta Holmès, who he met in 1875. The Piano Quintet was written under the influence of Franck’s romantic obsession, and thus was detested by Madame Franck to the end of her days. Composer Camille Saint-Saëns (no less) played the piano for the Quintet’s premiere performance, but he seems to have been offended by the music’s sensuality; Saint-Saëns rejected Franck’s proposal of dedicating the quintet to him.

The players for the Franck quintet this afternoon were Sheryl Staples and Michelle Kim (violins), Cynthia Phelps (viola), and Eileen Moon-Myers (cello) with Mr. Thibaudet at the Steinway. The opening movement, Molto moderato quasi lento, commences with a violin theme played by Sheryl Staples; Ms. Staples throughout the Quintet played with ravishing lyricism. Mr. Thibaudet enters with a somewhat hesitant phrase, and then Ms. Moon-Myers’ dusky cello joins. The piano turns dreamy before a sudden eruption. Ms. Staples and Cynthia Phelps’ richly shaded viola savour every opportunity, and the Quintet has an especially nice role for the second violin which Ms. Kim set forth with lovely tone.

The strings play in unison over a turbulent piano motif; a change to a more pensive mood finds piano and strings alternating. There’s a spacious, impassioned passage before the movement’s enigmatic end.

Late seating at this point was a serious distraction; the players waited patiently as latecomers stumbled to their seats. Ms. Staples was then thankfully able to re-establish the mood quickly with her silken playing of the soft, longing theme over hushed keyboard that opens the Lento con molto sentimento. A heart-wrenching descending motif for piano and cello announces a hauntingly beautiful passage with a poignant mix of voices. Then Mr. Thibaudet takes up another set of descending notes, like raindrops – or heartbeats. Ms. Staples plays with overwhelming beauty; the hesitancy of the piano recurs, and the cellist sustains a remarkable deep note. Mr. Thibaudet in the high register and Ms. Staples’s sweetest tones bring this romantic reverie to an end.

The concluding Allegro non troppo ma con fuoco opens with Ms. Kim’s agitato figuration which Ms. Staples joins; the piano sounds almost ominous. Unison strings play over an active keyboard, evoking a sense of mystery and restlessness. A big, waltz-like buildup suddenly evaporates into an ethereal violin passage: Ms. Staples again at her finest. The music then grows unsettled in its rush to an abrupt finish.

Warm enthusiasm greeted the quintet of players as they came out for a bow; I had hopes of an encore, but the stage was now to be re-set for the full orchestra.

Joshua Weilerstein (above) took the podium for the second half of this afternoon’s program, which opened with Ravel’s orchestration of Claude Debussy’s Sarabande et Danse. The sarabande originated in Central America as a dance for women, accompanied by castanets; it had an Arabian lilt. But the sarabande was regarded as too provocative, and was banned. Later the French took it on as a much more staid dance, at a slower tempo.

Ravel’s setting of this piece, which Debussy wrote for solo piano, opens with a wind chorale; a full string section, with lovely basses, take over. Solo moments crop up – for clarinet (Anthony McGill), bassoon (Judith LeClair) and a trumpeter who I couldn’t see. The work ends with the sound of a gong which fades to nothingness. By contrast, the Danse was upbeat, showing Ravel’s orchestrational gifts to vivid effect. The harp and horn had their moments, and overall this coloristic, rhythmic little gem glowed.

The Valses nobles et sentimentales is a suite of waltzes published in 1911 by Maurice Ravel as piano solos; an orchestral version was published in 1912. The title was chosen in homage to Franz Schubert, who had published a set of waltzes in 1823 entitled Valses nobles and Valses sentimentales. The Ravel orchestrated setting has a strong balletic association: Balanchine used them for his eerie La Valse, wherein a young girl is stalked by Death in a haunted ballroom.

Mr. Weilerstein gave a vibrant interpretation, played fantastically by the huge orchestra. Mr. McGill (and a flautist I could not see from my location) made particularly fine impressions.

Ravel’s Boléro was the closing work on the program, and it’s always great fun to hear it played live. Ravel composed this best-known of his works in 1928 for a ballet choreographed by Bronislava Nijinsky for Ida Rubinstein. Consisting only of repetitions of the same C-major theme over the same insistent rhythm, Boléro hypnotizes with its constant shifts in instrumentation as the music unfolds in one long, slow crescendo.

The thrill of today’s performance for a devotee of the NY Phil such as myself was in hearing the various solo voices of the orchestra take up the tune: flute, clarinet, bassoon, saxophone (wow, this guy was really wailing!), and on and on in various combinations. And all the while, the relentlessly diligent strings pluck and the snare drums maintain the pace, starting softly and turning militant as the Boléro sways onward with mesmerizing inevitability.

The crowd went absolutely wild as Boléro ended: everyone stood up and yelled.

~ Oberon

January 20, 2018
Claudia Schreier & Company: Gallery

Above: Wendy Whelan and Da’Von Doane in Claudia Schreier’s VIGIL; photo by Ani Collier. VIGIL is danced to a cappella choral music, performed onstage by Tapestry

Here are some images from photographer Ani Collier of Claudia Schreier & Company‘s recent program at The Joyce. Read about the performance here.

Wendy Whelan with Da’Von Doane (of Dance Theatre of Harlem) in VIGIL

Wendy and Da’Von: VIGIL

New York City Ballet’s Cameron Dieck and Jared Angle, with Da’Von Doane and NYCB soloist Unity Phelan in SOLITAIRE

Unity Phelan and Da’Von Doane: SOLITAIRE

New York City Ballet stars Unity Phelan and Jared Angle: SOLITAIRE

Unity & Jared in SOLITAIRE

Unity & Jared in SOLITAIRE

Elizabeth Claire Walker (soloist, Los Angeles Ballet) and Jared Angle in TRANQUIL NIGHT, BRIGHT AND INFINITE

Elizabeth Claire Walker and Jared Angle in TRANQUIL NIGHT, BRIGHT AND INFINITE

Elizabeth Claire Walker in CHARGE; Ms. Walker was recently (and aptly) described by the L.A. Times as “impossibly glamorous” when she danced the Siren in Balanchine’s PRODIGAL SON at Los Angeles Ballet.

Tiffany Mangulabnan with Elizabeth Claire Walker in CHARGE.

And finally, a series of Ani Collier’s images of Wendy Whelan in the mysterious and marvel-filled solo created on her by Claudia Schreier, and danced to music by Marc Mellits: THE TRILLING WIRE.

All choreography by Claudia Schreier; all photography by Ani Collier.

July 25, 2017
Celebrating Alan Gilbert’s 50th Birthday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

February 23, 2017
Bronfman|Bychkov ~ Tchaikovsky @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

Friday January 27th, 2017 – With Semyon Bychkov on the podium and Yefim Bronfman at the Steinway, we were assured of an exciting evening at The New York Philharmonic. Music by Glinka and Tchaikovsky was played in the grand style under Maestro Bychkov’s magical baton, and Mr. Bronfman brought down the house with his splendid account of Tchaikovsky’s 2nd piano concerto. Throughout this à la Russe program, visions of the splendours of the Tsarist courts filled the imagination.

The first half of the evening was given over to two scores which inspired George Balanchine to create two choreographic masterworks: Mikhail Glinka’s brief Valse-Fantaisie, and the Tchaikovsky concerto. The two ballets unfolded clearly in my mind as the music, so familiar to me from innumerable performances at New York City Ballet, filled Geffen Hall in all its romantic glory.

The infectious, lilting rhythm of the waltz propels the Glinka score; originally written for piano in 1839 and later orchestrated, it is rich in melody and intriguing shifts between major and minor passages, evoking the glamour, chivalry, and mystery of a glittering ball at the Winter Palace. Needless to say, it was sumptuously played under Maestro Bychkov’s masterful leadership.

Tchaikovsky’s 2nd piano concerto has been a favorite of mine for years, thanks to my great affection for the ballet Balanchine created to it. Written in 1879–1880, the concerto was dedicated to Nikolai Rubinstein; but Rubinstein was never destined to play it, as he died in March 1881. The premiere performance took place in New York City, in November of 1881 with Madeline Schiller as soloist and Theodore Thomas conducted The New York Philharmonic orchestra. The first Russian performance was in Moscow in May 1882, conducted by Anton Rubinstein with Tchaikovsky’s pupil, Sergei Taneyev, at the piano.

Tonight, Yefim Bronfman’s power and virtuosity enthralled his listeners, who erupted in enthusiastic applause after the concerto’s first movement. The eminent pianist could produce thunderous sounds one moment and soft, murmuring phrases the next; this full dynamic spectrum was explored in the monster cadenza, to mesmerizing effect. A word of mention here of some lovely phrases from flautist Robert Langevin and clarinetist Pascual Martinez Fortenza early in the concerto; in fact, all of the wind soloists were very much on their game tonight.

In the Andante, a sense of gentle tenderness filled Bronfman’s playing, and his rapport with concertmaster Frank Huang and cellist Carter Brey in the extended passages where they play off one another made me crave an evening of chamber music with these three masters. The concerto sailed on thru the concluding Allegro con fuoco, with its gypsy-dance theme brilliantly set forth by both pianist and orchestra. Maestro Bychkov, who had set all the big, sweeping themes sailing forth grandly into the hall throughout, was particularly delightful in this lively finale. At the end, the audience erupted in a gale of applause and cheers, Mr. Bronfman cordially bringing Mssrs. Huang and Brey forward to share in the ovation.

Throughout this awe-inspiring performance, the choreography of Balanchine danced in my head, and visions of Viktoria Tereshkina, Teresa Reichlen, Faye Arthurs, and Jonathan Stafford sprang up, the music inspiring the memory of their sublime dancing in Mr. B’s remarkable setting of this concerto.

After the interval, Maestro Bychkov (above) led an epic performance of Tchaikovsky’s 5th symphony. From the burnished beauty of the horn solo near the start, thru the palpable fervor of the Andante cantabile (with its evocation of the SLEEPING BEAUTY Vision Scene), and on thru the Valse, which moves from sway to elegant ebullience, Maestro Bychckov and the artists of the Philharmonic gloried in one Tchaikovskyian treasure after another.

The symphony’s finale, right from it’s soulful ‘Russian’ opening theme, seemed to sum up all that had gone before: vivid dancing rhythms from Russian folk music, a march-like tread, a brief interlude. Then the brass call forth, and a tremendous timpani roll heralds a mighty processional. One final pause before a stately repeat of the main theme and a swift, four-chord finish. The audience rightly responded to the Maestro and the musicians with a full-scale standing ovation.

January 27, 2017
Back at the Ballet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 26, 2017