Tag: Classical Music

Philadelphia Orchestra ~ Rachmaninov/Higdon

Above: Sergei Rachmaninov

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Tuesday October 17th, 2023 – The Philadelphia Orchestra was Sergei Rachmaninov’s favorite orchestra. He not only composed multiple works which they premiered, but it was the orchestra he chose to record his symphonies and piano concertos with. And, through the decades, the Philadelphians have played Rachmaninov as well as anyone and better than most.

The orchestra’s current artistic director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, has already recorded Rachmaninov’s complete symphonies and piano concertos (with Daniil Trifonov as soloist) and is continuing his presentation of the works at Carnegie Hall. (In a one-time-only mega event, pianist Yuja Wang and the combination of maestro Nézet-Séguin and Philadelphia Orchestra performed all the piano iano Concertos and the Rhapsody on the Theme of Paganini at Carnegie Hall in a single memorable concert last season.) On October 17th Nézet-Séguin presented a marvelous evening of two of Rachmaninov’s audience favorite works: the Symphonic Dances and Symphony No. 2.

Rachmaninov composed the Symphonic Dances in 1940 and the Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy premiered it in January of 1941. Apparently Ormandy was not very fond of the work, though he did perform it frequently and record it more than once.

The first dance opens with a three-note staccato motif, dark – even sinister – in tone, and it remains the driving rhythmic force throughout the movement. An alto saxophone plays a memorable role during the quieter moments (alas the wonderful player is not specified in the Playbill.) Rachmaninov ends the movement with a modified quote from his First Symphony, a work that had been lost 40 years earlier, so he knew nobody would have any idea what they were hearing. (The score was fortunately discovered again, but after Rachmaninov died, so he did not get an opportunity to hear it again after it’s catastrophic premiere led to his composers’ block.) Maestro Nézet-Séguin took a hard-driven, very steady, and deliberate pacing in the beginning of the work, speeding up considerably when the opening theme returned later in the movement.

The second dance is a stilted Waltz that I always thought of a cousin to Ravel’s La Valse. The compositions share an odd limping rhythm, the wistful minor key melodies swirling like aged ballerinas remembering happier days. Perhaps Nézet-Séguin lingered a little too much occasionally here, but always recovered the pulse of the work. The final dance, with its heavy reliance on the Dies Irae (a theme Rachmaninov used in many of his works) fights against a quotation from Rachmaninov’s own All-night Vigil Vespers, as light tries to conquer darkness. It seems the heavens win (Rachmaninov even scribbled “Hallelujah” in the score.) The Philadelphia Orchestra and Nézet-Séguin dazzled all the way through.

The Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27 is, along with his Piano Concerto No. 2, Rachmaninov’s most beloved work and oft-performed work. A gigantic, lush, deeply Romantic and melodic work was a hit from its premiere (conducted by Rachmaninov himself in St. Petersburg in 1908; the US premiere took place just one year later in – where else – Philadelphia under the composer’s baton.) Maestro Nézet-Séguin’s interpretation was magnificent, sometimes even revelatory. The tumultuous climax of the first movement, with its howling brass, for the first time reminded me of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony. The magnificent Adagio movement – with a ravishing melody everyone recognizes – contains a tremendous extensive solo for the clarinet, played by principal clarinetist Ricardo Morales with incredible beauty and tenderness that made you lean forward. The final Allegro vivace movement was a high voltage thrill ride which the orchestra dispatched with effortless aplomb.

I must acknowledge that the concert opened with a performance of Jennifer Higdon’s Fanfare Ritmico, a brief 1999 piece I occasionally thought may have resembled John Adams’ “Short Ride in a Fast Machine.” But the resemblances were fleeting even if they existed. My red flags went up when I looked at the list of instruments used in this 6 minute piece and it contains, as so many contemporary works do, every imaginable percussion instrument there is. Perhaps 2/3 of the instruments listed were percussive. I suppose to Higdon’s credit she does not use them all at once (something others do and never to anybody’s benefit). But she does fall into the same trap countless contemporary composers do where being unable to transition from one theme to another, the easiest path is to have somebody hit something. And so things kept getting hit. When it ended I said to my companion: “Well, whatever that was, they played it very well.”

~ Ben Weaver

October 20, 2023
Nelsons/BSO: Mozart/Adès/Sibelius @ Carnegie Hall

Above: Maestro Andris Nelsons; photo by Fadi Kheir

Author: Ben Weaver

Tuesday April 25th, 2023 – The Boston Symphony Orchestra, under the baton of their music director Andris Nelsons, returned to Carnegie Hall last week. The concert of April 25th, 2023 was a marvelous evening of music by Mozart, Adès, and Sibelius, featuring two outstanding soloist artists.

The great Anne-Sophie Mutter (above, photo by Fadi Kheir) performed two works: Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 1 in B-flat major, KV 207 and the New York premiere of Thomas Adès’ Air (Homage to Sibelius) for Violin and Orchestra.

Mozart’s violin concertos have been part of Mutter’s repertoire for her entire career; it’s music she has played and internalized, and performances she has perfected, through the years. The magical performance on Tuesday night of the 1st Concerto, composed in 1773, was essentially perfect. Mutter’s golden, rich, steady tone never wavered; the soulfulness of her playing made the audience lean in. Mozart’s virtuosic writing gave Mutter no difficulties; she dispatched every run, double stop, and trill with absolute ease.

The new composition by Adès, Air (Homage to Sibelius), is a very different work from Mozart. Composed for Ms. Mutter in 2022, it’s a single-movement, semi-minimalist work (running about 13 mins) that lets the soloist stay in the upper reaches of the instrument for almost its entire run time. While the soloist played a canon – Ms. Mutter’s perfect control and steadiness were wondrous to hear – the orchestra shifted the landscape through orchestration and rhythms. Maestro Nelsons shepherded the forces around Ms. Mutter beautifully, the BSO letting the music ebb and flow. While Mr. Adès explicitly says Air is an homage to Sibelius, I heard more Arvo Pärt and John Adams than Sibelius.

Above: soprano Golda Schultz sings Sibelius; photo by Fad Kheir

Two works by Sibelius book-ended the evening’s program. The vocal tone poem Luonnotar, Op. 70, is one of Sibelius’ most mystical and magical works. With text taken from the first “song” of the Finnish epic national poem Kalevala (a work that inspired several other major works from Sibelius), it tells the story of the (non-religious) Creation. The huge leaps and range of the vocal writing makes Luonnotar one of the most demanding works for a soprano, and South African soprano Golda Schultz was mesmerizing. Her rich voice is even throughout the range, even in the uppermost reaches it remains creamy and ravishing. Her breath control ensured she never ran out of air for Sibelius’ long and achingly beautiful melodies. Maestro Nelsons was sensitive to never let the orchestra drown out the singer. This is a work I wish would be performed more often.

Above: Maestro Nelsons and the BSO; photo by Fadi Kheir

The concert ended with an expansive performance of Sibelius’ Symphony No. 5 in E-flat major, Op. 82. Sibelius’ sound-world is really like no other. I don’t think there is another composer who composed music of such surging coldness and brilliant light. You can feel the winds sweeping across the snow and the icy water glistening in the Sun. The episodic nature of Sibelius’ writing, in the hands of lesser conductors, can be difficult to stitch together. Maestro Nelsons managed it beautifully, and the Boston Symphony – which has a long history of playing Sibelius – responded to every nuance. The orchestra’s marvelous brass section deserves special recognition here because the very exposed writing for the horns in the first and third movements was played perfectly by the ensemble. The final movement, one of Sibelius’ most famous compositions, with the majestic tolling of the horns and sweeping melody from the strings, is one of those rare truly breathtaking glories of music. It’s interesting that this overwhelming section – supposedly inspired by a flock of swans he watched passing overhead – is only played in all its Romantic glory once. When it is repeated in the second half of the movement, it changes to a darker, almost sinister tone. And the work ends with 4 chords and 2 unisons – broken by pauses. A stark and startling conclusion.

The Boston Symphony is second to none playing Sibelius; years ago Sir Colin Davis – one of the great exponents of the Finnish bard’s music – played and recorded his works with the BSO extensively. Andris Nelsons doesn’t miss a beat.

Performance photos by Fadi Kheir, courtesy of Carnegie Hall

~ Ben Weaver

April 28, 2023
ASO Presents Strauss’s DAPHNE

Thursday March 23rd, 2023 – The American Symphony Orchestra performing Richard Strauss’s rarely-heard DAPHNE in concert form at Carnegie Hall, with Maestro Leon Botstein on the podium. The Bard Festival Chorale, under the direction of James Bagwell, had a big part to play in the proceedings.

The one-act opera, written in 1936-1937, comes late in Strauss’s composing career, when ELEKTRA, SALOME, ROSENKAVALIER, DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN and ARIADNE AUF NAXOS were already established in the world’s opera houses.

The story of DAPHNE in a nutshell: Shepherds anticipate the feast of Dionysus, with Daphne’s parents, Peneios and Gaea, presiding over the preparations. Daphne, in love with nature, shuns the ways of men. Her childhood playmate, the shepherd Leukippos, tries to embrace her lovingly, but she repels him and renounces the coming festivities. She refuses to don the clothing her mother has lovingly prepared for her, and runs away. Playfully, the women persuade Leukippos to wear the clothes instead. Apollo arrives, in a peasant’s disguise, and is immediately drawn to Daphne, who rebuffs him. The feast begins, and the disguised Leukippos offers Daphne a cup of wine, arousing the jealousy of Apollo. The heavens respond to the god’s anger with rumbles of thunder, which cause the sheep to run away; the shepherds chase after the flock, leaving Apollo, Daphne, and Leukippos alone. Leukippos reveals his true identity, and challenges Apollo to reveal his. Instead, Apollo shoots Leukippos dead with his bow. Apollo begs Daphne’s forgiveness, saying he will grant her wish to join the natural world and will then love her in the form of a laurel tree. Her transformation begins, and her disembodied voice is heard among the rustling leaves.

About tonight: The evening got off to a rather stodgy start as a large phalanx of choristers slowly filled the stage space to sing An den Baum Daphne, an a cappella choral epilogue to the opera which Strauss composed in 1943. This seemed like a nice idea on paper, but the music overall is not terribly interesting, consisting of numerous repeats of a five-note theme familiar to me from DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN. It seemed to go on and on, and while there were many appealing individual voices among the chorus, they did not always blend well. There were some pitch issues along the way, and a feeling that the piece was a bit under-rehearsed.

Then came an intermission, which completely killed the Straussian atmosphere that had been established, with people chatting blithely and wandering up and down the aisles. At last the opera itself commenced, but it took time for the crowd to re-settle.

DAPHNE is a gorgeous opera: a veritable feast of melody…there is never a dull moment musically. The vocal writing is extremely demanding; a very fine cast had been assembled, but their work was often undermined by over-loud playing from the orchestra. At the climaxes, voices were being forced in order to stay afloat, This has been happening at The Met a lot this season too, where conductors seem to think loud = exciting. Yes, there is a superficial thrill to it, but in the end it doesn’t do anyone any good.

That being the case, the singers could only be admired for holding steadfast and getting thru these taxing moments…especially when an orchestra is onstage behind you rather than in the pit.

The opera got off to an excellent start with baritone Kenneth Overton’s handsome singing as the 1st Shepherd. The voice is fresh and warm, and he cuts a fine figure to boot. Later in the opera, a trio of choristers come forward to portray his fellow shepherds: Jack Cottrell, Paul Holmes, and Blake Austin Brooks.

In the title-role, so ravishingly sung on the esteemed EMI recording by the great Mozartean Lucia Popp, Jana McIntyre displayed a clear, soaring lyrical sound that deftly encompassed the role’s wide range. It is a girlish timbre, perfect for expressing youthful vulnerability and impetuosity, but Ms. McIntyre also summoned considerable power when needed. In one especially lovely passage, her voice entwined with an obbligato from the ASO’s concertmaster, Cyrus Beroukhim. There were a few spots when the orchestra pressured the soprano, but she held her own and emerged unfazed. Daphne is a “big sing” and without a persuasive interpreter, the opera is not worth reviving. Ms. McIntyre not only sang beautifully, but she looked fetching in her pale lime-green frock, and she used her expressive hands with the grace of a ballerina to shape the music and send it out to us.

As two maids, Marlen Nahhas and Ashley Dixon were much more than supporting players: both have luscious voices, sounding very much at home in the Carnegie Hall space. In solo phrases, they were each truly appealing to hear, and then they duetted to charming effect. Their scene was not mere filler, but a musical treat all on its own.

Strauss hated tenors: that is what people say when listening to an otherwise fine tenor struggle with the demands of Bacchus or the Emperor in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, Tonight, both the leading tenors – rivals in the story – fared well, despite the assaults of the orchestra at certain inconvenient moments. Kyle Van Schoonhoven as Apollo (sometimes deemed Strauss’s cruelest tenor role) had the scope of the role, and the testing top notes were successfully attained. A more thoughtful conductor could have made the singer’s job easier but Mr. Van Schoonhoven was always impressive. And, in the more lyrical stretches, he displayed a very appealing timbre…and a sense of poetry.

As Daphne’s admiring swain, Leukippos, Aaron Blake made a striking impression. Slender of frame, and intense of presence, the tenor’s lyrical sound contains a vein of metal (aligned to crisp diction) that he can call upon to cut thru when needed. By turns playful and cocky, the character was portrayed to perfection, and the tenor unleashed a laser-beam sustained note as fate closed in on him.

Magnificent singing came from contralto Ronnita Miller (Gaea) and basso Stefan Egerstrom (Peneios), as Daphne’s parents. Ms. Miller, whose 1st Norn at The Met simply dazzled me a few seasons back, sings like a goddess with earthy chest tones of unusual richness. Stunning in her every note and word, the contralto looked like a fashion icon gowned all in black, and she shed her blessèd maternal light over the proceedings, even when sitting silently while others sang. Stefan Egerstrom, where have have you been al my life? What a powerful, resonant voice this man commands. He delivered his music with great authority: each note was rounded and true, and everything compellingly phrased. And yet, for all the strength of their voices, even Ms. Miller and Mr. Egerstrom were not immune to the effects of the encroaching orchestra.

Above, onstage at Carnegie Hall (from left): Stefan Egerstrom, Ronnita Miller, Aaron Blake, Kyle Van Schoonhoven, Jana McIntyre, Leon Botstein (back to camera), and Ashley Dixon. Photo by Matthew Dine.

~ Oberon

March 23, 2023
Ensemble Connect @ Weill Hall

Above: the artists of Ensemble Connect; photo by Fadi Kheir

Author: Oberon

Tuesday February 21st 2023 – Ensemble Connect offering a wide-ranging program at Weill Hall this evening, opening with Jennifer Higdon’s Dark Wood, a work for bassoon and piano trio. Nik Hooks, the Ensemble’s excellent bassoonist, kicked off his busy evening here (he played in three of the four works); for the Higdon, he was joined by pianist Joanne Kang, cellist Laura Andrade, and guest violinist Stephanie Zyzak. The piece’s title refers to the lustrous, deep-dark polish of the bassoon.

Dark Wood opens with staccati for the bassoon and piano; the plucking violin and cello soon join. The music is jagged, buzzing with trills and big accents, full of nervous energy. A prolonged note for bassoon launches a sprightly, animated passage; then the piano begins to rumble, the bassoon and cello playing deep. Another long, dark bassoon tone leads to slithering strings and a pulsing piano motif.

Above: bassoonist Nik Hooks; performance photo by Fadi Kheir

The violin and cello sigh, and things turn dreamy. Dotty violin notes sound over a wistful bassoon melody and then the cello offers a rich theme; this is all quite beautiful to hear. Things perk up, with the bassoon trilling and the strings sizzling, and then Ms. Kang at the keyboard takes over, with big playing, agitated and insistent. Heartfelt strings and a forlorn song for bassoon and piano follow; Ms. Kang offers plucked notes with a “prepared piano” sound, the others playing poignantly. Now the music rushes forward, somewhat chaotically, to a brisk finish.

Ms. Kang and Mr. Hooks were soon back onstage for Mozart’s delightful Quintet for Piano and Winds in E-flat Major, K. 452, joined by three more of the Ensemble Connect’s brilliant wind players: Amir Farsi (flute), Jasmina Spiegelberg (clarinet), and Cort Roberts (horn).

Mozart apparently thought highly of this piece, and he would doubtless have loved this evening’s performance of it. It opens rather hesitantly; Mr. Roberts plushy, golden tone immediately grabbed me, frustrated high-school horn player that I am. The blend of wind voices was sonorous, and after the piano introduces a new and more animated theme, it is passed about from instrument to instrument.

Above: Cort Roberts (horn) and Jasmina Spiegeberg, clarinetist; performance photo by Fadi Kheir

The Larghetto brings us a gracious, courtly melody, with Ms. Spiegelberg’s lambent tone and persuasive phrasing leading the way; flute, horn, and bassoon take up the line in succession. A bel canto atmosphere develops, with the piano offering accentuations; Mr. Roberts’ horn cavatina is so stylish, with the others harmonizing expressively.

The final Rondo/Allegretto rolls along, each player showing a vibrant sense of virtuosity: a sustained flute trill from Mr. Farsi was but one of many decorative delights.

Above: composer Michi Wiancko

Michi Wiancko’s 7 Kinships, a Carnegie Hall commission, was having its New York premiere this evening. The composer charmingly introduced the work; she spoke of how 7ths and 9ths express a feeling of longing. I could not agree more.

Above: The evening’s wind players – Mssrs. Farsi, Hooks, and Roberts, and Ms. Spiegelberg – giving a sterling performance of the Wiancho; performance photo by Fadi Kheir

In the work’s seven brief movements, Ms. Wiancho’s thoughtful craftsmanship gave the players ample opportunity to revel in their artistry. The music ranges from lyrical to animated, with moods veering from whimsical to lamenting. The sounds of the instruments entwine to delight the ear, sometimes in strange harmonies, whilst rhythmically the composer displays touches of wit. The musicians seemed to genuinely enjoy playing this music.

Before commencing the program’s final work, Robert Schumann’s Piano Quintet, violist Halam Kim read one of the composer’s letters to his beloved Clara; I admit this outpouring of love brought tears to my eyes. And then to recall that it was Clara who played the quintet’s demanding piano part at the work’s public premiere, making it all the more touching.

Above, playing the Schumann: Mr. Rengel, with Mlles. Zyzak, kang, Andrade, and Kim; photo by Fadi Kheir

The Ensemble Connect’s marvelous violinist, Rubén Rengel, led the ensemble, with Ms. Kang honoring Clara Schumann with her delectable playing, and Mlles. Zyzak, Kim, and Andrade all sounding gorgeous.

This beloved work is bursting with magical passages: the ‘dialogue’ for cello and viola in the opening movement, a theme to which Mozart frequently returns, is especially endearing, and in the dirge-like second movement, Mr. Rengel ‘s playing is exceptional. Mlles. Zyzak and Kim take ups this calmly funereal theme, and Ms. Abdrade’s sumptuous tone is ever at the heart of the matter.

In the bustling Scherzo, Mr. Rengel is again in his element, and Ms. Kang has much to do, her rising scales setting the scene for a fast dance, her music-making on the grand scale. It is Ms. Kang who initiates the final Allegro ma non troppo with her scintillating playing. A hymn-like interlude arises, and then low rumblings from the piano develop into a slow sway; this then accelerates, dancing us on to the finish.

All performance photos by Fadi Kheir, courtesy of Carnegie Hall.

~ Oberon

February 21, 2023
Yuja Wang ~ Rachmaninoff @ Carnegie Hall

Above: pianist Yuja Wang

Author: Ben Weaver

Saturday January 28th, 2023 – Sergei Rachmaninoff’s four piano concertos are among the most challenging works in any pianist’s repertoire. Today, at Carnegie Hall, pianist Yuja Wang raised the bar for her colleagues by playing all four – plus Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini – in one afternoon, accompanied by the Philadelphia Orchestra under the baton of Yannick Nézet-Séguin. These kinds of Olympic feats are rare; I’ve heard of the complete Beethoven Symphonies being conducted in a single day and Brahms’ two Piano Concertos in one concert, but I’m unaware of a single soloist taking on 5 concertos in one afternoon. Overall, the concert lasted nearly 5 hours, with two intermissions. Carnegie Hall was completely sold out, and, as a testimony to the artists and to the music, no one seems to have left early.

One unscheduled extended pause was caused by a member of an audience collapsing and, apparently, dying just as the second movement of the 2nd Concerto ended. The man was revived in the hallway before the performance resumed. Maestro Nézet-Séguin informed us before performance of the 3rd Concerto that the gentleman was out of surgery and was expected to make a full recovery. That’s how long the concert lasted: a man died, was brought back to life, and was out of surgery at the 2/3 point of the afternoon!

The marathon started with Rachmaninoff’s most enduring work and one of the most beloved works in the classical repertoire: the Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18, composed in 1900-01 after an extended composers’ block Rachmaninoff suffered because of the disastrous premiere of his Symphony No. 1. After seeing a psychiatrist in France – which included hypnosis – Rachmaninoff composed this magnificent, melodic work which decades later would have pop-songs written to its tunes. (Eric Carmen’s “All By Myself” being perhaps the most successful chart-topper.) Ms. Wang’s strong, incisive solo introduction was a preview of the muscled playing that dominated the entire afternoon. She easily produced massive sounds from the Steinway, rising above Rachmaninoff’s dense orchestrations. Even on recordings, the piano sometimes gets lost in the famous melody at the beginning of Second Concerto’s Moderato movement. Not with Wang, who summoned torrents of sound that cut through the orchestra.

Rachmaninoff was quite fond of the clarinet and wrote a number of magnificent music for it in his works, including in the Adagio sostenuto of this concerto. (The clarinet’s dark hues are also prominently featured in the contemporaneous Symphony No. 2). Clarinetist Ricardo Morales’ playing was invaluable here. I did feel the tempi in the first two movements were perhaps a bit too languorous; momentum seemed to be lost. But (after the performance resumed following the incident with the ill audience member), the closing Allegro scherzando was an exhilarating conclusion.

Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 1 (composed 1890-91 and revised extensively in 1917) and Piano Concerto No. 4 in G minor, Op. 40 (composed in the US in 1924-26, and premiered by the composer with Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra) are his least known concertos. Perhaps their melodies are not as hummable as the other works, but they are filled with melodies nonetheless, and wonderful writing for the piano. Ms. Wang met every obstacle with ease and bravura. Concerto No. 1, composed when Rachmaninoff was only 17, has all the trademarks that would define his style as he matured, including expansive, romantic melodies and dark orchestrations. And though Rachmaninoff always maintained that he was a romantic composer through-and-through (and was criticized for it by the modernists), his Concerto No. 4 sometimes echoes – intentionally or not – Ravel’s Piano Concerto and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue (which Rachmaninoff heard at its 1924 world premiere performance.) So while he never became a modernist, Rachmaninoff was certainly influenced by the sounds of his contemporaries. I’ve heard Ms. Wang play a magnificent Ravel Piano Concerto live, and I was getting flashes of some of those moments as she played the Fourth here.

The Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43, composed in 1934 and premiered by the composer with Stokowski again conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra, is one of Rachmaninoff’s most brilliant works. Using the same Paganini Caprice that inspired numerous others to compose variations (Schumann, Brahms (two separate works), Liszt, Lutosławski, Schnittke), Rachmaninoff’s compact work never flags. It is a magnificent, tenacious bulldozer of invention. The original tune is shaped, reshaped, stretched in every imaginable way, and yet each variations is a beautiful thing of its own. The most famous of these, the immortal 18th Variation, is the original melody played upside down. The joy maestro Nézet-Séguin took in conducting of this section was clear: he seemed to be floating off the podium. Ms. Wang – needless to say conquered every technical challenge – but also the poetry, the beauty of her playing was unmatched.

The concert ended with the Mount Everest of the concerto repertoire, the towering Piano Concerto No. 3 in D minor, Op. 30. Composed in 1909, while Rachmaninoff still lived in Russia, he intended it to be his calling card in the West, as he was embarking on his first American tour. And so the concerto was premiered in New York with the New York Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Walter Damrosch. (Six weeks later Raxhmaninoff played it again in New York, this time with the New York Philharmonic- the two orchestras later merged into one – under the baton of Gustav Mahler. There are stories that Mahler was not entirely happy with the collaboration.)

I don’t know if this concerto actually drove David Helfgott to madness, but it is certainly enough to scare anyone into an asylum, and for Ms. Wang, playing it after roughly 4 hours of performing, was a brave decision. Fortunately for us her hands seem to be made of steel. This was not an example of someone crawling across the finish line: Ms. Wang crossed it at full speed. I noticed her hanging her hands down between playing, seemingly resting/stretching. But her playing did not show any sign of fatigue. Every note was crystal clear, and she – and Maestro Nézet-Séguin – did not shy away from the grandness and romanticism of Rachmaninoff’s music. And there is no better orchestra to play Rachmaninoff than his own favorite Philadelphians. They have this in their blood.

One thing Yuja Wang is known for – outside of her extraordinary pianism – is outfits (she wore 5, one new ensemble for each work), but another is encores. She is very generous with encores: as long as the public wants more, she is happy to provide. I joked to a friend that really this concert was just a performance of the Second Concerto followed by encores of the rest of Rachmaninoff’s concertos. In the end – after such a grueling afternoon – she gave just one encore, an achingly beautiful “Dance of the Blessed Spirits” from Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice, transcribed by Giovanni Sgambati.

There is so much to admire in Yuja Wang’s artistry. Some people seem to be distracted by her showmanship and outfits. I’m struck by her genuine love of performing live and love for her audience. It’s why she’s so happy to keep playing encores as long as her audience is on their feet. Another great pianist I recently saw live at Carnegie, after an extraordinary concert, offered an encore of just literally a few notes (something by Schoenberg.) Really, it was a joke, but it was also rude. Ms. Wang’s joy at being on stage is infectious. We’ve read about Liszt and Paganini’s shenanigans. Why can’t a contemporary artist do more than roll out, play, and leave? Brava, Ms. Wang, for treating this music as a living, breathing being and engaging with your audience with such generosity.

~ Ben Weaver

Here’s a gallery of performance images by photographer Chris Lee documenting this unique evening:

Above: Maestro and soloist at the close of the evening; performance photos by Chris Lee, courtesy of Carnegie Hall

January 28, 2023
Ronnita Miller

Above: mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller; photo by Fadi Kheir

I was bowled over by Ronnita Miller’s singing as the 1st Norn in Wagner’s GOTTERDAMMERUNG at The Met in 2019. Soon I’ll have a chance to see Ms. Miller onstage again: she will sing the role of Gaea in a concert performance of Richard Strauss’s DAPHNE with the American Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall on March 23, 2023. Details here.

Sample Ms. Miller’s singing here.

January 26, 2023
Oberlin Orchestra & Choral Ensembles/Carnegie Hall

Above: Maestro Raphael Jiménez with the Oberlin Orchestra at Carnegie Hall; photo by Fadi Kheir

Author: Brad S Ross

Friday January 20th, 2023 – On Friday evening, New York audiences were once again treated to a fine performance by the Oberlin Orchestra and Choral Ensembles as they returned to Carnegie Hall for the first time (publicly, anyway) since January 19, 2019. They were conducted by Oberlin Orchestras Director Raphael Jiménez, who led the performers in a unique program that included one repertory standard, one New York City premiere, and one buried gem.

The evening began with long—very long—opening remarks by Oberlin College and Conservatory President Carmen Twillie Ambar and Oberlin Conservatory Dean William Quillen.

Ambar’s remarks focused on two of the evening’s headlining pieces having been written by minority composers and therefore made all the requisite extollations about the need for representing historically marginalized groups. As important as this message is, it would be nice to hear the music of under-appreciated composers like Will Marion Cook, William Dawson, Florence Price, George Walker, etc., without this ever-obligatory preamble. My continued hope is that someday we will be able to let their music simply speak for itself.

Quillen’s remarks, while less political, were a seemingly endless list of “thank you”s, not unlike an Oscar acceptance speech—only this time, there was no hope of the music playing him off. All the parents and staff in attendance no doubt appreciated the acknowledgements, but after a full quarter hour of talking I was getting pretty antsy for things to move along.

Nevertheless, once the opening remarks concluded, the Oberlin musicians were finally able to grace the Isaac Stern Auditorium with their abilities—and what a pleasure they were to hear!

First on the program was Johannes Brahms’s Tragic Overture, Op. 81, from 1880. There’s not much one can say about this work that hasn’t already been expressed over the last one hundred and forty years, so I won’t labor on it here. It’s a pleasant and undemanding symphonic poem, lasting about fourteen minutes and chock-full of the lyrical gestures typical of that Romantic master. Needless to say, the Oberlin musicians tackled the piece expertly, but it did leave me wanting to hear more of their technical skills.

I was not left wanting for long, however, as the second work of the evening—the New York premiere of Iván Enrique Rodríguez’s A Metaphor for Power—immediately livened up the proceedings.

Written in 2018, A Metaphor for Power is a single-movement essay for orchestra lasting about thirteen minutes. Rodríguez—a 32-year-old Puerto Rican native—composed the piece as a comment on the turbulence and inequalities of contemporary life in the United States, despite the promise of its founding (the title, indeed, comes from a quote by James Baldwin). His use of social commentary through music was much more subtle than that of other recent protest works, however (Anthony Davis’s quite overt You Have the Right to Remain Silent comes to mind), making for a composition that was both cleverly referential and electrifying to hear.

The music opened with a bang before quickly diminuendoing into dream-like textures, complete with harp, mallets, and woodwind writing that sounded as though they had descended straight from Maurice Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé. A contemplative middle section featured, among other memorable effects, distorted quotations from “America the Beautiful” and unsettling vocalizations from the orchestra as they recited overlapping lines from the Declaration of Independence. A great crescendo announced the beginning of the third, final section, which was marked by dramatic gestures that were almost filmic in execution. It all came to an energetic and wickedly engaging ending that lit up the room with excitement.

Above: Maestro Jiménez and composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez take a bow; photo by Fadi Kheir

The composer practically leapt from his seat and ran to the stage to share an emotional embrace with Jiménez before they took their bows together. The moment was as touching as it was well-earned. The composer having been unknown to me until that evening, I must say that I look forward to hearing much more from him in the future.

Above: the vocal soloists for the Dett oratorio: Chabrelle Williams, Ronnita Miller, Limmie Pulliam, and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The final and most substantial work of the evening was Robert Nathaniel Dett’s oratorio The Ordering of Moses. Dett, a Canadian-born American composer of the early 20th century, became the first black man to graduate with a double major from the Oberlin Conservatory in 1908. He initially wrote The Ordering of Moses as a thesis project while completing his Masters of Music from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester in 1932. Dett later revised and expanded the work, however, and it was premiered in its final form by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra under Eugene Goosens in 1937.

Clocking just under an hour, the oratorio is divided into nine sections and is cast for orchestra, chorus, and four vocal soloists. Joining the Oberlin musicians for this performance were soprano Chabrelle Williams, mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller, tenor Limmie Pulliam, and baritone Eric Greene.

Above: soloists Ronnita Miller and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The first section opened on warm instrumentation that favored the lower voices of the orchestra. A lone cello voice emerged for an occasional solo before Greene’s sonorous tones took center stage as “The Word,” describing the bondage of the Israelites under the Pharaoh. He was joined briefly by Miller, who cried out for mercy as the voice of the Israelites. The music was rather languid here, until a great exclamation of “Mercy, Lord” announced an upbeat transition into the second section, “Go Down Moses.”

A recent last-minute Metropolitan Opera debutant, tenor Limmie Pulliam (above, in a Fadu Kheir photo) then entered as the voice of the reluctant Moses, who is given the famous command by God, “Go down Moses, way down in Egypt’s land; tell Pharaoh: ‘Let my people go!’” (this section featured a particularly cheeky musical joke where Moses sings “I am slow of tongue!” at the most sluggish pace imaginable). The drama then moved fairly seamlessly into the third section “Is it not I, Jehovah!” as God affirms his edicts to Moses.

This was followed by a mostly uneventful instrumental interlude as the story was transported forward to Moses’s parting of the Red Sea (“And When Moses Smote the Water”). This exuberant, celebratory section was followed by two more instrumental interludes: “The March of the Israelites through the Red Sea” and “The Egyptians Pursue.” The former was an almost jaunty affair, complete with military snare and wordless chorus, while the latter featured brassy blasts and dramatic descending runs as the crashing waters swept away the pursuers.

Above: soprano Chabrelle Williams; photo by Fadi Kheir

Ms. Williams’s soaring vocals finally entered the proceedings in the waltz-like “The Word,” as the Israelites jovially sang praises to Jehovah. All forces joined for the triumphant finale “Sing Ye to Jehovah,” as the oratorio built to a final satisfying tutti instrumental blast.

Everyone performed splendidly throughout and the piece was met with one of the most enthusiastic standing ovations I’ve seen in a while, yet I couldn’t help feeling slightly underwhelmed by the music itself. Considering the scale of forces at work, the writing was not terribly economical. The instrumentation was often sparse and seldom were all of the elements brought together for fuller effect. The solo parts also heavily favored the male voices, leaving Williams and Miller very little to do for most of its duration.

This isn’t to say it was bad—far from it—, but it did leave me wanting a little bit more. Had Dett not died of a heart attack at the relatively young age of 60 in 1943, one cannot help but wonder what other and more exciting large scale works he might have brought to the concert hall. Nevertheless, it was exciting as always to hear a buried musical gem such as this get dusted off and given new life. It was a grand conclusion to another memorable concert by the Oberlin Conservatory musicians, who will hopefully return again soon to grace New York City audiences with another memorable program.

All performance photos by Fadi Kheir.

~ Brad S Ross

January 24, 2023
Oberlin Orchestra & Choral Ensembles/Carnegie Hall

Above: Maestro Raphael Jiménez with the Oberlin Orchestra at Carnegie Hall; photo by Fadi Kheir

Author: Brad S Ross

Friday January 20th, 2023 – On Friday evening, New York audiences were once again treated to a fine performance by the Oberlin Orchestra and Choral Ensembles as they returned to Carnegie Hall for the first time (publicly, anyway) since January 19, 2019. They were conducted by Oberlin Orchestras Director Raphael Jiménez, who led the performers in a unique program that included one repertory standard, one New York City premiere, and one buried gem.

The evening began with long—very long—opening remarks by Oberlin College and Conservatory President Carmen Twillie Ambar and Oberlin Conservatory Dean William Quillen.

Ambar’s remarks focused on two of the evening’s headlining pieces having been written by minority composers and therefore made all the requisite extollations about the need for representing historically marginalized groups. As important as this message is, it would be nice to hear the music of under-appreciated composers like Will Marion Cook, William Dawson, Florence Price, George Walker, etc., without this ever-obligatory preamble. My continued hope is that someday we will be able to let their music simply speak for itself.

Quillen’s remarks, while less political, were a seemingly endless list of “thank you”s, not unlike an Oscar acceptance speech—only this time, there was no hope of the music playing him off. All the parents and staff in attendance no doubt appreciated the acknowledgements, but after a full quarter hour of talking I was getting pretty antsy for things to move along.

Nevertheless, once the opening remarks concluded, the Oberlin musicians were finally able to grace the Isaac Stern Auditorium with their abilities—and what a pleasure they were to hear!

First on the program was Johannes Brahms’s Tragic Overture, Op. 81, from 1880. There’s not much one can say about this work that hasn’t already been expressed over the last one hundred and forty years, so I won’t labor on it here. It’s a pleasant and undemanding symphonic poem, lasting about fourteen minutes and chock-full of the lyrical gestures typical of that Romantic master. Needless to say, the Oberlin musicians tackled the piece expertly, but it did leave me wanting to hear more of their technical skills.

I was not left wanting for long, however, as the second work of the evening—the New York premiere of Iván Enrique Rodríguez’s A Metaphor for Power—immediately livened up the proceedings.

Written in 2018, A Metaphor for Power is a single-movement essay for orchestra lasting about thirteen minutes. Rodríguez—a 32-year-old Puerto Rican native—composed the piece as a comment on the turbulence and inequalities of contemporary life in the United States, despite the promise of its founding (the title, indeed, comes from a quote by James Baldwin). His use of social commentary through music was much more subtle than that of other recent protest works, however (Anthony Davis’s quite overt You Have the Right to Remain Silent comes to mind), making for a composition that was both cleverly referential and electrifying to hear.

The music opened with a bang before quickly diminuendoing into dream-like textures, complete with harp, mallets, and woodwind writing that sounded as though they had descended straight from Maurice Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé. A contemplative middle section featured, among other memorable effects, distorted quotations from “America the Beautiful” and unsettling vocalizations from the orchestra as they recited overlapping lines from the Declaration of Independence. A great crescendo announced the beginning of the third, final section, which was marked by dramatic gestures that were almost filmic in execution. It all came to an energetic and wickedly engaging ending that lit up the room with excitement.

Above: Maestro Jiménez and composer Iván Enrique Rodríguez take a bow; photo by Fadi Kheir

The composer practically leapt from his seat and ran to the stage to share an emotional embrace with Jiménez before they took their bows together. The moment was as touching as it was well-earned. The composer having been unknown to me until that evening, I must say that I look forward to hearing much more from him in the future.

Above: the vocal soloists for the Dett oratorio: Chabrelle Williams, Ronnita Miller, Limmie Pulliam, and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The final and most substantial work of the evening was Robert Nathaniel Dett’s oratorio The Ordering of Moses. Dett, a Canadian-born American composer of the early 20th century, became the first black man to graduate with a double major from the Oberlin Conservatory in 1908. He initially wrote The Ordering of Moses as a thesis project while completing his Masters of Music from the Eastman School of Music in Rochester in 1932. Dett later revised and expanded the work, however, and it was premiered in its final form by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra under Eugene Goosens in 1937.

Clocking just under an hour, the oratorio is divided into nine sections and is cast for orchestra, chorus, and four vocal soloists. Joining the Oberlin musicians for this performance were soprano Chabrelle Williams, mezzo-soprano Ronnita Miller, tenor Limmie Pulliam, and baritone Eric Greene.

Above: soloists Ronnita Miller and Eric Greene; photo by Fadi Kheir

The first section opened on warm instrumentation that favored the lower voices of the orchestra. A lone cello voice emerged for an occasional solo before Greene’s sonorous tones took center stage as “The Word,” describing the bondage of the Israelites under the Pharaoh. He was joined briefly by Miller, who cried out for mercy as the voice of the Israelites. The music was rather languid here, until a great exclamation of “Mercy, Lord” announced an upbeat transition into the second section, “Go Down Moses.”

A recent last-minute Metropolitan Opera debutant, tenor Limmie Pulliam (above, in a Fadu Kheir photo) then entered as the voice of the reluctant Moses, who is given the famous command by God, “Go down Moses, way down in Egypt’s land; tell Pharaoh: ‘Let my people go!’” (this section featured a particularly cheeky musical joke where Moses sings “I am slow of tongue!” at the most sluggish pace imaginable). The drama then moved fairly seamlessly into the third section “Is it not I, Jehovah!” as God affirms his edicts to Moses.

This was followed by a mostly uneventful instrumental interlude as the story was transported forward to Moses’s parting of the Red Sea (“And When Moses Smote the Water”). This exuberant, celebratory section was followed by two more instrumental interludes: “The March of the Israelites through the Red Sea” and “The Egyptians Pursue.” The former was an almost jaunty affair, complete with military snare and wordless chorus, while the latter featured brassy blasts and dramatic descending runs as the crashing waters swept away the pursuers.

Above: soprano Chabrelle Williams; photo by Fadi Kheir

Ms. Williams’s soaring vocals finally entered the proceedings in the waltz-like “The Word,” as the Israelites jovially sang praises to Jehovah. All forces joined for the triumphant finale “Sing Ye to Jehovah,” as the oratorio built to a final satisfying tutti instrumental blast.

Everyone performed splendidly throughout and the piece was met with one of the most enthusiastic standing ovations I’ve seen in a while, yet I couldn’t help feeling slightly underwhelmed by the music itself. Considering the scale of forces at work, the writing was not terribly economical. The instrumentation was often sparse and seldom were all of the elements brought together for fuller effect. The solo parts also heavily favored the male voices, leaving Williams and Miller very little to do for most of its duration.

This isn’t to say it was bad—far from it—, but it did leave me wanting a little bit more. Had Dett not died of a heart attack at the relatively young age of 60 in 1943, one cannot help but wonder what other and more exciting large scale works he might have brought to the concert hall. Nevertheless, it was exciting as always to hear a buried musical gem such as this get dusted off and given new life. It was a grand conclusion to another memorable concert by the Oberlin Conservatory musicians, who will hopefully return again soon to grace New York City audiences with another memorable program.

All performance photos by Fadi Kheir.

~ Brad S Ross

January 23, 2023
Renaud Capuçon/ORPHEUS @ Carnegie Hall

Saturday February 21st, 2023 – Violinist Renaud Capuçon (above, performance photo by Chris Lee) joining the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra at Carnegie Hall for a program featuring works by Hanna Benn, Sergei Prokofiev, and Modest Mussorgsky.

The East Coast premiere of Ms. Benn’s View (Un)titled, an Orpheus commission, opened the evening. The composer was inspired by artwork she had viewed at MoMA; she drew inspiration for the work’s structure from the beloved Mussorgsky piece which closed tonight’s program. Thus, View (Un)titled opens with a promenade: a walking motif set to a pacing rhythm from Orpheus’s rock-star bass player, Jordan Frazier.

The musical exploration of the various artworks (eight of them) showed that Ms. Benn is a composer who values melody; her music has a fresh and vital feeling, and she has a gift for making a visit to a museum seem important. Which it is!

As the movements unfolded, my companion and i lost track of exactly where in the order of the things we were. So we simply enjoyed the work as a whole: its rhythmic variety, the rich strings, the distinctive sounds of the wind voices, and the cunning use of percussion. Cinematic one moment and intimate the next, this music continually delighted the ear…and the imagination.

Above: composer Hanna Benn

Ms. Benn was called to the stage for a bow after her work was played, and she was warmly greeted by the audience; returning to her seat, Ms. Benn received another around of applause, and she made a charming curtsey to the hall. During the interval, she slowly made her way up the aisle, pausing for autographs and selfie seekers. One tiny girl wanted to meet her, but was overcome by shyness (I know how she feels!); Ms. Benn knelt and spoke to her, putting the child at ease, and then they had a photo together: really such a sweet moment.

M. Capuçon then took the stage for a stunning performance of Prokofiev’s Sonata in F-Minor in an arrangement by Andrei Pushkarev.

The opening Andante assai has a doleful feeling, from which the trilling of the violin emerges. Unison strings are heard in lamenting themes as M. Capuçon’s playing becomes increasingly passionate; the celli and bass play dirge-like passage. Now the enchanting sound of the marimba comes into play. The violinist executes slithering scales – and then a plucking passage – as the music fades away.

In the Allegro brusco which follows, a military mood is established, the celli and bass trudging along, the drums issuing a stirring summons. M. Capuçon takes up a song, the accompaniment dance-like. The pace picks up, and reaches the sizzling point. The striking of the wood block draws our attention to the orchestra’s percussionist de luxe, Maya Gunji, who at one point plays the snare and bass drum simultaneously. The violin sings forth again, and this militant movement marches to its end.

Now comes the sonata’s luminous Andante. The delicious sounds of the marimba create a dreamy mood, and a lyrical melody from M. Capuçon becomes a duet with cello. The sound of the violin shimmering on high and meshing with the marimba evokes thoughts of the same composer’s Opus 19/The Dreamer. Spine-tingling pianissimo arpeggios from the violinist bring the movement to an ethereal close.

The concluding movement has a bustling start; the percussionist is kept endlessly busy, as is the violinist. But in a surprise move, the music gradually transforms to an andante, the violin turning lyrical, a fugue developing, the marimba sounding isolated notes. A solo passage from the bass, and then the music slithers to silence.

Above: M. Capuçon danced and swayed throughout his performance…very engaging; photo above by Chris Lee. The violinist won a fervent ovation, the Orpheus players joining in. He was re-called to the stage for two extra bows; the crowd was clearly hoping for an encore, though I am not sure what could have followed M. Capuçon’s dazzling playing of the Prokofiev.

Modest Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition was given in a fresh arrangement by Jannina Norpoth, and she gets major kudos for her luxuriant, imaginative vision of the music. Ms. Norpoth took a bow at the end, winning much-deserved shouts of approval from the hall…and spirited applause from the players, too. Chris Lee captured the moment in the above photo.

A trumpet call heralds our entrance to the galleries where the pictures are on exhibition, and our tour is underway, interrupted periodically by a revisiting of the “promenade” theme. Applause between movements was distracting tonight, though understandable given the high level of the playing.

Gnomes, a dolorous march, is by turns bustling, eerie, and clumsy…and superbly played. The Old Castle is an evocative, very slow dance for solo cello, joined later by violin and viola. The charming Tuileries tells of a dispute between children at play in the gardens. Bassoonist Gina Cuffari took a star turn with the droll and lumbering Cattle – music which gets big by the end. The whimsical, fluttery Ballet of the Chicks in Their Shells was charmingly set forth, and then we have Samuel Goldenberg und Schmuyle, which paints a picture of two Jewish citizens – one rich and one poor. The Market at Limoges is brisk and joyous, with a fast finish; in contrast come the long, organ-like chords of The Catacombs. Next, we feel shivers of mystery in Among the Dead. Following the big and boisterous Hut on the Fowl’s Legs (based on Baba-Yaga), we at last stand before The Great Gates of Kiev: a timely reminder of the world in which we now live.

All of this was played sumptuously by the ladies and gentlemen of Orpheus, and the Carnegie acoustic suits them to a T: a wonderful night of music-making! At the end, the players and Ms. Norpoth formed a line-up stretching across the Carnegie Hall stage – Chris Lee’s photo above – enjoying the audience’s acclaim.

~ Oberon

January 21, 2023
Nobuyuki Tsujii @ Carnegie Hall

Thursday January 19th, 2023 – This evening, we welcomed the Japanese pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii back to Carnegie Hall. In 2018, I attended Nobu’s Carnegie debut with ORPHEUS: an exciting evening. In 2019, the pianist gave a solo recital in the famed venue, which I was sadly unable to attend.

Tonight’s concert began with a transcendent musical experience. Nobu, who is blind, was led to the Steinway where he seated himself and took the measure of the keyboard; he then commenced to play Beethoven’s immortal Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp Minor, Op. 27, No. 2, “Moonlight”. From the very first note, Nobu drew us deeply into the music. Playing in a whispered – but also miraculously weighted – pianissimo, he suffused the beloved melody with a spiritual resonance that is beyond rare. Sustaining this atmosphere throughout, Nobu held us under an enchantment. There was a palpable silence in the hallowed hall such as I have seldom – if ever – experienced in my six decades of concert-going.

As the final note of the Adagio sostenuto lingered on the air, my impulse was to get up and leave, taking this perfect memory with me. But, of course, I didn’t: I stayed on, listening to Nobu’s remarkable playing of the rest of the Moonlight and joining in the eager applause that followed.

Next came Franz Liszt’s Consolation No. 2 in E-Major; composed between 1844 and 1850 the Consolations are a set of six short pieces. The second of these has a gentle, shimmering start before turning pensive. Here, Nobu showed his gift for delicacy, and – later – for free-flowing lyricism.

The pianist then offered a sort of ‘Liszt encore’: Venezia e Napoli. The opening movement, Gondoliers, is evocative of a summer afternoon on the canals of Venice: mysterious at first, the music conjures up the water rippling in the sunlight. A song, such as the gondolier might sing, springs up: fanciful fiorature and tingling trills are dazzlingly set forth by the pianist. The ensuing Canzone has a lively start, but soon goes deep and dramatic; the canzone‘s finale is fantastically animated – “thousands of notes!”, I scrawled on my playbill – and was delivered by Nobu with pinpoint accuracy and unfettered joy. The pianist then further demonstrated his phenomenal dexterity in the concluding Tarantella.

For the second half of the program, Nobu turned first to Ravel: three relatively brief works were offered, starting with Menuet sur le nom d’Haydn. While gentle and charming, one could sense a haunted feeling lurking under the surface, which Nobu captured in his appealing interpretation. He then employed his vast dynamic range to sterling effect in the familiar Pavane pour une infante défunte, giving the music a touching beauty of expression. The luminous Jeux d’eau – one of the composer’s gems – is full of high, silvery undulations which seemed magical in Nobu’s hands.

The concert’s final work, Eight Concert Etudes by the Soviet composer Nikolai Kapustin, have an improvisational feeling, mixing classicism with elements of jazz. Composed in 1984, they are technically extremely demanding, filled as they are with torrents of notes played a supersonic speeds. Nobu dazzled us with the clarity and sureness of his technique. If the music itself began to wear a bit thin after a while, the pianist’s playing was simply remarkable. The audience was soon sighing aloud with disbelief or admiration as Nobu seemed to leap over one technical hurdle after another as he dashed to the finish line. This resulted in a boisterous standing ovation from the sold out house, and hundreds of cellphones were raised aloft to capture the excitement.

For Nobu’s first encore, J. S. Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring“, in an arrangement by Dame Myra Hess, he returned to the purity and depth of feeling with which the concert had started. Although we knew more encores would follow, I took my leave whilst the audience was cheering. I’ll never forget this evening, with Nobu mesmerizing us in the Moonlight.

~ Oberon

January 19, 2023