Tag: Concert

Oberlin College Choir and Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

~ Author: Brad S Ross

Saturday January 19th, 2019 – The Oberlin Conservatory of Music, visiting from Ohio, began 2019 on the proverbial high-note Saturday night at Carnegie Hall’s Isaac Stern Auditorium. The talents of students and educators alike were well-showcased in a concert bifurcated between the Oberlin College Choir and the Oberlin Orchestra. Following brief opening remarks by Oberlin College President Twillie Ambar, things were swiftly under way in what would turn out to be a tremendously satisfying program.

For the first half of the concert, the Ronald O. Perelman Stage belonged to the Oberlin College Choir under the baton of Gregory Ristow (photo, above). They began with Triptych, a mostly tonal choral composition written in 2005 by the British-American composer Tarik O’Regan. Though originally cast for chorus and orchestra (and what a sight to behold that would’ve been!), it was presented here in a more manageable arrangement for percussion and chorus by the percussionist and composer Dave Alcorn. It featured an eclectic text culled from such myriad sources as William Blake, John Milton, William Wordsworth, Muhammad Rajab al-Bayoumi, and the Book of Psalms, among others.

The first movement, “Threnody,” opened on a gripping a cappella statement set to an epigram by William Penn, “When death takes off the mask, we will know one another.” A driving percussion line soon entered and pushed the work forward as languid, otherworldly phrases meandered in call and answer throughout the chorus. The effect was almost primal.

Following a short percussion interlude, the second movement “As We Remember Them” opened on a haunting soprano solo set to the words of the rabbi Roland B. Gittelsohn, “In the rising of the sun and at its going down, we remember them.” This was performed with remarkable precision by Risa Beddie, whose voice would be featured occasionally throughout the remainder of the piece. This elegy seemed in many ways the heart and soul of O’Regan’s Triptych, however, as the combined, yet subdued forces of Beddie, chorus, and percussion achieved a hypnotic beauty.

Another short interlude followed and the work was propelled energetically forward into the third and final movement, “From Heaven Distilled a Clemency.” O’Regan’s choral writing here was its most exuberant as the choir toned the words of the great Persian poet Rumi, “So why then should I be afraid? I shall die once again to rise an angel blest.” Beddie’s haunting soprano then returned for one last quiet utterance before the work rose to its climactic finale. Every force was well-utilized in Triptych and it made for excellent way to put the evening into motion.

Next up was Igor Stravinsky’s ballet Les noces (“The Wedding”) for four pianists, percussion, vocal soloists, and chorus from 1923. Like O’Regan’s Triptych, Les noces was also originally conceived for a much larger ensemble, but Stravinsky himself made the decision to scale back its herculean forces to a mere four solo vocalists, chorus, percussion, and four pianos. Indeed, even with this “reduced” compliment, the sight of so many musicians, instruments, and four Steinway pianos gave the stage impressively cluttered look. Its libretto, penned by the composer himself from traditional Russian wedding songs, describes the marriage rite of a young bride and groom.

Les noces begins frighteningly on a solo soprano line accompanied by piano, cymbals, and xylophone effecting somber bell tones. Other unholy voices soon joined the proceedings as the mother and bridesmaids console the young bride-to-be. While the libretto features a deceptively melodramatic narrative, musically Stravinsky seemed to be describing a wedding straight from the gates of hell. There was no hint of saccharine or sentiment to be found amongst the composer’s numerous parallel lines, violent dynamic shifts, and strikingly dissonant harmonies—so much the better.

Les noces followed the marriage of its protagonists right up to the wedding night and showcased exhilarating performances by the soprano Katherine Lerner Lee, mezzo-soprano Perri Di Christina, tenor Nicholas Music, baritone Kyle Miller, and bass Evan Tiapula as various members of the ceremony. Its final eerie bell tone—open octaves throughout the instrumental accompaniments—reverberated for what seemed an eternity before Ristow finally lowered his baton. This was an electrifying way to conclude the first half of the program.

After intermission came a high-point in what had already proved to be an exhilarating evening. The conductor Raphael Jiménez (photo, above) and the Oberlin Orchestra next took the stage for the New York premiere of Elizabeth Ogonek’s All These Lighted Things—a set, as the work’s subtitle notes, of “three little dances for orchestra.” It was originally commissioned and premiered by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in 2017 while Ogonek served as the ensemble’s composer-in-residence. Ogonek, who teaches composition at Oberlin, has quickly earned a reputation as one of the finest young composers in the United States. Based on All These Lighted Things, I would be hard-pressed to disagree.

The first movement began with quiet textures emanating from the percussion and high strings. A broad sonic spectrum swiftly unfolded from Ogonek’s musical prism, with such varied colors as muted brass, dissonant woodwind runs, and violent strikes in the strings, among many other extended techniques I couldn’t quite decipher from a single hearing. The etherial sound of a rainstick opened and continued to be featured throughout the second movement, soon joined by a full high-voice descending glissandi and a stirring violin solo by concertmaster Jerry Zheyang Xiong.

Animated pizzicato runs in the bass and celli signaled the start of the third movement. Aided with light percussion, swift woodwind runs allude to a growing musical menace. A sumptuous flute line emerged with building woodwind accomplices. Finally, a great, full-ensemble crescendo swelled to a tremendous crash and a few fleeting quiet percussion voices sang the piece to its silent conclusion.

Like many contemporary pieces, All These Lighted Things seemed to be more about shifting sonic textures than any strict adherence to musical form. This will no doubt exhaust some listeners who long for structure, but they should at least take comfort that none of Ogonek’s sonorities ever outstay their welcome, as modern compositions so often do. I, for one, found it a lively and vibrant piece—one that will surely warrant many further hearings.

The evening concluded with a performance of Claude Debussy’s La Mer. Its performance was solid, if not quite on par with what New York audiences have been spoiled to expect of late (the New York Philharmonic programmed it twice last year alone, both times to tremendous effect). Apart from the occasionally muddy entrance and one conspicuously fracked trumpet note, the Oberlin Orchestra played with delicate grace, offering a decidedly above-average rendition of Debussy’s great orchestral tome. For his part, Jiménez’s interpretation was lingering and dynamic, never rushing its dramatic moments. This worked well in its first and second movements where Debussy’s colors should be allowed to frolic and breathe freely. By the third movement, however, this approach seemed a touch overwrought and unfortunately robbed some essential energy from the grand brass chords that announce the work’s finale.

But I quibble. A critic knows he’s heard something truly good when there are only minor details he would change. All in all, this was a successful finale to an indisputably successful concert program—one that will surely signal a prosperous new year for the Oberlin Conservatory’s faculty and students. If the sustained standing ovation that night was any indication, New York audiences will welcome them back as often as they’ll come.

~ Brad S Ross

January 21, 2019
Joshua Bell|NY String Orchestra

Above: Joshua Bell

~ Author: Oberon

Friday December 28th, 2018 – Holding forth at Carnegie Hall over the holidays, the New York String Orchestra presented a Christmas Eve concert (which Ben Weaver wrote about here) and then followed up with this evening’s program which brought us Joshua Bell as soloist for the Brahms Violin Concerto, book-ended by George Walker’s Lyric and Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony.

George Walker‘s Lyric for Strings opened the program. From its very soft opening, this music was drawing us in and clearing our minds of the worries and woes that abound in these troubled times. Guest conductor Karina Canellakis and the young musicians savoured the rich themes, the Romantic Era yet still contemporary-sounding harmonies, the beautiful layering of arching violins and darkish basses. The music quietens, then a new melodic journey commences. After some thoughtful hesitations, the work finds a gentle ending: we are in a tranquil place.

Joshua Bell gave a knockout performance of the Brahms Violin Concerto in D-Major, Op. 77. The concerto’s first movement (Allegro non troppo) is especially rich in themes; following a unison opening passage, the music becomes quite grand. An excellent contingent of wind players joined the ensemble. Joshua Bell’s intense playing – and his feel for the dramatic – found a counterpoise in the ravishing sheen of his highest range, his pinpoint dynamic control, and his pliantly persuasive phrasing.

A recurring theme, which make us think of springtime, found the violinist at his most lyrical, while in the demanding cadenza, Mr. Bell’s masterful dispatching of flurries of notes covering a vast range reached its end with a shimmering trill. The movement’s final measures were sublime.

The winds set the mood of the Adagio. A marvelous oboe solo and – later – an impressive passage of bassoon playing – fell sweetly on the ear. Mr. Bell’s silken sounds in the upper register cast a spell over the hall, his exquisite control giving me chills of delight. In his mixture of passion and refinement, the music seemed so alive. Without pause, Maestro Jaime Laredo took us directly into the final movement; here, in the familiar theme, the rhythmic vitality of the orchestra and Mr. Bell’s bravura playing combined to winning effect.

A full-house standing ovation greeted Joshua Bell’s stunning performance; hopes for an encore had the audience calling him back for repeated bows. But perhaps he felt that nothing really could follow the Brahms, especially after such a thrilling rendition.

Following the interval, several alumni of the New York String Orchestra joined the current ensemble for a tonally lush rendering of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, Pathétique. Among these alumni were several of today’s finest artists – people like violinist Pamela Frank, violist Steven Tennenbom, cellists Peter Wiley and Nicholas Canellakis, bass player Timothy Cobb, and clarinetist Anthony McGill. These musicians did not take over the principal chairs from the current players, but simply joined the ranks of the orchestra, seated interspersed among their young colleagues. I can only imagine how inspiring it must be for these emerging musicians to be playing alongside David Kim or Kurt Muroki.

Maestro Laredo crafted a rich-hued, passionate performance, and the musicians played their hearts out. As the symphony unfolded – really impressively played – I found the first two movements to be magnificent in every regard. The Allegro molto vivace – which Tchaikovsky seems to have referred to as a ‘scherzo‘ and which one writer described as “a waltz with a limp” – seemed to go on too long. And as affecting as the final Adagio lamentoso is, there are themes in SWAN LAKE, SLEEPING BEAUTY and the Serenade for Strings that I find far more moving.

Over time, people have sometimes felt that the Adagio lamentoso, with its faltering heartbeat at the end, presages the composer’s death. Within nine days after conducting the first performance of his the epic Sixth, Tchaikovsky would in fact be dead. There are various theories about the cause of the composer’s sudden demise: cholera from drinking tainted water, suicide induced by depression, or a sentence of death imposed on him by a ‘Court of Honor’ when his affair/infatuation with a young nobleman, Prince Vladimir Argutinsky (whose father was a high-placed official in the tsar’s court) came to light. In this third scenario, Tchaikovsky took poison after the Court’s verdict was handed down.

Above: Tchaikovsky with Prince Vladimir Argutinsky

Applause between movements somewhat spoiled the atmosphere tonight, even though after the Allegro non troppo of the Brahms it was understandable that the full house wanted to to applaud Mr. Bell. But premature applause at the end of the Tchaikovsky was a more serious mood breaker.

~ Oberon

December 28, 2018
Christmas Eve @ Carnegie Hall

Above, violinists for Vivaldi: Pamela Frank, Kyoko Takezawa, Bella Hristova, and Jinjoo Cho; photo by Pete Cecchia

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Monday December 24th, 2018 – Christmas Eve at Carnegie Hall was a nearly sold-out performance by the New York String Orchestra, a program organized by the Mannes School of Music each year: its 50th incarnation this year was marked by mayor Bill De Blasio declaring it the New York String Orchestra Day in NYC. Under the baton of Jaime Laredo, the 64-member orchestra, made up of young musicians from around the world (ages 16-23) presented an ambitious program of Mendelssohn, Vivaldi and Beethoven.

Mendelssohn’s popular Hebrides Overture is one of his most famous compositions: the moody, dark opening from the low strings, evoking the churning waves of the ocean, is an instantly recognizable tune. There are several of those in the work, heard by all in numerous commercials and movies over the years. The young musicians, following Maestro Laredo’s relaxed tempo, created an evocative, almost creepy, aural landscape.

Vivaldi’s thrilling Concerto for Four Violins from his famed collection of 12 concertos entitled L’estro armonico, was so admired by J.S. Bach that he transcribed it for four harpsichords. Requiring a quartet of star soloists to pull it off, the New York String Orchestra delivered four with unimpeachable credentials: Jinjoo Cho, Pamela Frank, Bella Hristova, and Kyoto Takezawa. The soloists both compete and complement one another throughout the work. Dazzling displays of virtuosity and unpredictable rhythms of the first movement give way to a yearning slow moments, where the four soloists play by turn in unison and in solo passages, then the fiery finale brings down the curtain. Certainly the four soloists leave nothing to be desired and the orchestra provided thrilling support.

Without stopping for an intermission (a welcome move), the piano was immediately set up for Beethoven’s great Piano Concerto #4 with Yefim Bronfman (above, photo by Pete Cecchia) at the piano. Mr. Bronfman has long been one of our favorite artists on this blog: he a musician of singular musical sensitivity and imagination. His gentle solo introduction of the concerto before the orchestra picks up the melody was like meeting an old friend. Beethoven’s melodies come in waves. Bronfman handles the running scales effortlessly. Maestro Laredo’s expansive tempo was especially rewarding in the Andante con moto movement where Bronfman’s soulful playing could move anyone to tears. Here, too, the young musicians provided wonderful support.

Performance photos by Pete Cecchia, courtesy of Carnegie Hall.

~ Ben Weaver

December 26, 2018
Emmanuelle Haïm @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: Emmanuelle Haïm

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday November 21st, 2018 – Music of Handel and Rameau was on this evening’s bill as Baroque specialist Emmanuelle Haïm made her New York Philharmonic debut. Neither composer’s name is really associated with the orchestra (MESSIAH of course being the exception), but their music was most welcome tonight, following in the wake of a pair of less-than-enjoyable ‘contemporary’ works we’d just recently heard at Carnegie Hall.

From first note to last, the music offered this evening – and the Philharmonic’s playing of it – seemed truly fresh and vital. And Ms. Haïm is so engaging to watch: her deep affection for the music is evident at every turn, and her conducting has an embracing style which drew superb playing from the orchestra. On Thanksgiving eve, we wondered how big of a crowd might turn out, but the house was substantially full. It was the most attentive audience of the classical music season to date – always a good sign.

It was fun to enter the auditorium this evening and see two harpsichords parked on the Geffen Hall stage, one for Ms. Haïm, the other for Paolo Bordignon. Handel’s Concerto Grosso, Op. 6, No. 1, calls for a relatively small ensemble of musicians, with Sheryl Staples as concertmaster.

From her first downbeat, Ms. Haïm’s conducting had a choreographic feeling. Swaying with the music, her gestures resonated like balletic port de bras. One could imagine her, gorgeously gowned and bejeweled, leading the dancing at Versailles in another lifetime. What a marvelous presence!

In the Concerto Grosso, violinists Sheryl Staples and Qian Qian Li along with cellist Carter Brey, form a musical sub-set, playing trio motifs with elegance and verve. The Allegro movements sparkled, the Adagio soothed and charmed, the exhilarating finale was full of life.

Two of Handel’s Water Music suites were performed. In the first, No. 3 in G-minor, the tall and slender Sébastien Marq (above) brought his polished recorder tone and technique to the mix. Switching from alto to soprano after the suite’s first movement, Mssr. Marq piped away to captivating effect. Oboes, bassoon, bass, and theorbo add textures that constantly lure the ear, and a violin solo in the Minuet was graciously played by Ms. Staples. The familiar tunes of the final Gigues made for a happy ending.

Philharmonic horn players Richard Deane and Allen Spanjer joined the ensemble for the Water Music Suite #1 in F-major; they were seated on the highest riser alongside oboist Sherry Sylar, a second young oboist I didn’t recognize, and bassoonist Kim Laskowski. These five artists made musical magic as the suite sailed forward.

Ms. Sylar’s plangent playing of a solo in the Adagio was pure beauty, and the two hornsmen reveled in the harmonized coloratura passages of the second Allegro. The woodwind trio blended lovingly in the Andante, and then the noble horns graced the Minuet. In the Air, our string trio from the Concerto Grosso emerged again, to lovely effect, as the horns sustained long notes in support. Horn calls open the Minuet, and then the suite dances on with a Bourrée-Hornpipe-Bourrée combination: swift and light to start, with a woodwind trio intervention, and then a fast finale that tripped the light fantastic.

Applause filled the hall; Ms. Haïm came out for a bow, but made a bee-line for the upper riser, where she drew the horn players from their chairs, then had Ms. Sylar take a solo bow (to warm shouts of ‘brava!‘), and then had the mystery oboist and Ms. Laskowski rise. What a fine gesture!

Selections from Rameau’s opera Dardanus, arranged as a suite by Ms. Haïm, made a splendid effect as the program’s second half. The opera, a classic five-act Tragédie en musique which premiered in 1739, follows Dardanus – the son of Zeus and Electra – in his feud with King Teucer. Their eventual pact of peace is reached as Dardanus marries Teucer’s daughter Iphise, who he’d met through the intervention of the sorcerer Isménor.

If the plot sounds unlikely, the score is enchanting. An enlarged ensemble tonight brought abounding grace and drama to music which covers an extraordinary range of rhythms and textures. Among the many sonic treats are the sound of a repeatedly dropped chain in the “Entry of the Warriors“, a delicate blend of flutes and triangle in the Air, and the suggestive shaking of the tambourine.

Ms. Haïm’s Philharmonic debut was a sure success; she passed among the musicians, greeting them individually as the applause rolled on. I hope she will come back to the Philharmonic in the future, bringing more Baroque gems with her. And what might she do with Gluck, Mozart, or Berlioz?

~ Oberon

November 21, 2018
Maxim Vengerov @ Carnegie Hall

Above: violinist Maxim Vengerov

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday October 30th, 2018 – Three wonderfully contrasted violin sonatas were on offer tonight at Carnegie Hall as the renowned Maxim Vengerov took the stage, joined by the excellent Roustem Saïtkoulov at the Steinway.

About ten years ago, Mr. Vengerov – as most classical music-lovers know – developed a mysterious arm/shoulder ailment that took nearly four years to diagnose and treat. He returned to the stage in 2012, and I first heard him live in 2015, playing the Tchaikovsky violin concerto with the New York Philharmonic. It was a thrilling performance, and tonight I was very excited to be hearing him again. In the grand and glorious setting of Carnegie Hall tonight, Mssrs. Vengerov and Saïtkoulov made a most congenial collaboration, to the great benefit of the music they’d chosen, and to the great delight of the audience.

Johannes Brahms’ Violin Sonata No. 3 in D-Minor is in four movements rather than the more usual three. It opens with an achingly romantic lyrical theme, aglow with passionate colours. The Vengerov/Saïtkoulov partnership brought a lot of nuance to the music, with a lovely dynamic palette and finely dovetailed modulations. In a heartfelt piano passage, Mr. Saïtkoulov’s playing moved me. An intoxicating, soulful finish seemed to entrance the audience.

The Adagio commences with a wistful melody, sublimely tailored; the players’ astute attention to dynamics again kept up their intriguing effect. The familiar descending theme of this movement brought a feeling of plushy, Olde World magic, but then a dropped program booklet and a cellphone intrusion ruined the ending.

Rhythmic vitality, and some charming plucking motifs, adorned the Scherzo, which has a somewhat sentimental quality: no mere jesting here.

Then players immediately launched the concluding Presto agitato, full of great swirls of notes and a rich mix of colours. Syncopations are at work here; the music builds and subsides, and then re-bounds in a rush to the finish. Prolonged applause, but the players did not come out for a bow.

George Enescu wrote his Violin Sonata No. 2 in F-Minor at the age of seventeen, reportedly in the space of a fortnight. Mssrs. Vengerov and Saïtkoulov play in unison for the sonata’s rather mysterious start. Turbulence is stirred up, but reverts to the unison motif. The piano then shimmers as the violin sings above with rising passion. Vengerov and Saïtkoulov both demonstrated great control of dynamics as the music took on a restless quality. They play in unison again, moving to a quiet finish.

A sad song opens the second movement, marked Tranquillement, pervaded by a strangely lovely feeling of melancholy. Again Mr. Vengerov displays pinpoint control of line in an affecting soft theme that rises to an exquisite sustained note. There’s a darkish quality from the piano as the violin is plucked. Then: a sudden stop. The music resumes – so quietly – with a shivering violin tremolo. The ending is simply gorgeous.

The concluding movement, marked simply Vif (“Lively”), starts off all wit and sparkle; both musicians savor the animation, tossing in wry soft notes from time to time. The music turns briefly grand, then softens, and the liveliness resumes. The players are on the verge of exceeding the speed limit when they suddenly veer into an unexpected ‘romance’. But wit prevails in the end.

Above: pianist Roustem Saïtkoulov

Maurice Ravel’s Violin Sonata was premiered in Paris on May 30, 1927, with none other than George Enescu as violin soloist, and Ravel himself at the piano. The opening Allegretto starts quietly, with a piano theme that is taken up by the violin. Mr. Vengerov sweetens his tone here, making the most of the melodic possibilities. The violin trembles over a shadowy piano passage, and then a transportive lyricism builds, with the violin rising and lingering. A heavenly conclusion: sustained violin tone over a shimmering piano.

To open the Blues: Moderato, the violinist plucks in altering soft and emphatic notes. The piano sounds rather glum at first, then starts pulsing persuasively as the violin gets jazzy, bending the phrases enticingly.

From a gentle start, the Perpetuum mobile finale lives up to its name. The piano goes scurrying along, and Mr. Vengerov turns into a speed demon. The music rocks along – Rhapsody in Blue and Fascinatin’ Rhythm are evoked briefly – with the violinist verging on manic whilst Mr. Saïtkoulov’s playing stays light and luminous.

The concluding works on the printed program both felt very much like encores: Heinrich Ernst’s decorative incarnation of The Last Rose of Summer and Nicolo Paganini’s super-elaborate take on the great aria Di tanti palpiti from Rossini’s TANCREDI (arranged by Fritz Kreisler) each had an “everything-but-the-kitchen-sink” feeling. Mr. Vengerov managed the fireworks well, drawing a celebratory audience response. My feeling was that one or the other of these two virtuoso pieces would have sufficed.

As an encore, Fritz Kreisler’s Caprice Viennois was beautifully played. The audience then began streaming out. We were in the lobby when we heard a second encore commencing; but it was too late to double back.

~ Oberon

October 30, 2018
Weilerstein|Bychkov ~ All-Dvořák @ Carnegie Hall

Above: cellist Alisa Weilerstein

Author: Ben Weaver

Saturday October 27th, 2018 – The Czech Philharmonic Orchestra, under the direction of its chief conductor and music director Semyon Bychkov, rolled into Carnegie Hall on Saturday, October 27th for a two-concert visit. The first concert was an all-Dvořák program which featured two of the composer’s greatest works: the Cello Concerto (with soloist Alisa Weilerstein) and Symphony No. 7.

Dvořák’s Cello Concerto was composed in New York City in 1894-95. Dvořák had long-held reservations about a concerto for the instrument: an early effort to write one in 1865 was left unfinished and lost until 1925; attempts by scholars to reconstruct it for performance have met with mixed results. But Dvořák was so impressed by a New York Philharmonic performance of Victor Herbert’s Cello Concerto No. 2 that he decided to try again. (Herbert, a highly successful composer of operettas in his own right, was principal cellist of the NY Philharmonic.) The resulting cello concerto by Dvořák, in the key of B minor, is arguably the greatest one of all. Brahms, for example, exclaimed: “Why on earth didn’t I know that a person could write a violoncello concerto like this? If I had only known, I would have written one long ago.”

The opening Allegro begins with a mournful clarinet solo, a melody that reappears throughout the movement – and returns in the second half of the final movement. The cello enters playing the same melody, though in a different key. Alisa Weilerstein is one of the finest cellists in the world today and she held the audience spellbound with her passionate, emotionally generous and technically precise playing. With Maestro Bychkov, and an orchestra that has Dvořák in their bones, this was a performance from all that could not be improved. (Special recognition for the magnificent, soulful horn solo playing by, I assume from the roster, Kateřina Javůrková.) The lovely second movement, Adagio, contains Dvořák’s tribute to his dying sister-in-law Josefina (with whom he was secretly in love). He revised the finale of the concerto after returning to Prague and learning that Josefina had died. Dvořák inserted a melancholy section right before the end of the work. He wrote to the publisher: “The finale closes gradually, diminuendo – like a breath…”

The audience greeted Ms. Weilerstein’s performance with a warm standing ovation. Weilerstein’s control of the instrument is superb. She manages to produce a million colors of sound, the rich and warm tone of her cello glows. The audience kept calling her to return, no doubt hoping for an encore. Alas, not on this night. But it’s hard to top perfection anyway.

After the intermission the orchestra performed what many consider to be Dvořák’s finest symphony, No. 7, commissioned by the London Philharmonic Society in 1884. Dvořák himself conducted the premiere in 1885. The symphony opens with a sinister theme from the lower strings. This melody, and the dark mood, dominate the movement and haunt the rest of the symphony. No. 7 has a reputation as Dvořák’s tragic work and many conductors emphasize the darkness. But maestro Bychkov and the orchestra find more nuance here. Despite the somber mood of the opening movement there is plenty of humor too, including a lively Scherzo that could have been rejected from Dvořák’s Slavonic Dances. It is a truly great Symphony, even if has not gained the popularity of Symphonies Nos. 8 and 9. And the Czech Philharmonic plays it better than anyone.

The glowing strings, warm brass (no barking here), and the obvious love they have for this music are incomparable. Although most great orchestras can play everything well, there is something to be said for orchestras of a composer’s native land taking precedence in how their music can and should sound. Russians play Tchaikovsky better than anyone, Czech musicians do it with with Dvořák and Janáček, the French play French in ways most others simply don’t, an Italian voice can do things with a Verdi line that no one else can, etc. It’s not just about all the notes being played – any decent orchestra can do that – it’s about how the musicians feel about those notes. And this great orchestra clearly feels Dvořák’s music in a singular way. It’s not just love for the music, it’s pride in the music. It is impossible to replicate anywhere else.

You could hear and feel this uniqueness tonight, especially in the two encores: two Slavonic Dances, the lilting Starodávný (Op. 72, No. 2; surely one of Dvořák’s most memorable melodies) and the thrilling Furiant (Op. 46, No. 8). If you didn’t sway or tap along to this music, if you didn’t sing it to yourself, you weren’t doing it right.

~ Ben Weaver

October 28, 2018
Percussion and Piano @ Carnegie

~Author: Scoresby

Friday October 26 2018 – As the first concert in her six-part Perspectives residency at Carnegie Hall, Yuja Wang decided to do a thought-provoking collaboration with percussionists. It is great that instead of playing standard repertoire, Ms. Wang is using her platform to push her audience into more unfamiliar repertoire, such as her recital in Carnegie last season and this performance. Here, she was working with some of the all-stars of the percussion world: Martin Grubinger, his father Martin Grubinger Sr, Alexander Georgiev, and Leonhard Schmidinger for an incredibly fun evening. Unfortunately, the performance was billed as “Yuja Wang, piano and Martin Grubinger, percussion” with the other percussionists relegated to small lettering. The program didn’t even mention which percussionists played on which of the works. Oddly, no instrumentation was given for each work, instead just “piano and percussion”, despite a litany of different percussion instruments used. Nonetheless, Ms. Wang and Mr. Grubinger did give credit to their colleagues and this truly was a collaborative performance between all five musicians.

Above: In the throes of the Bartók (from left to right): Leonhard Schmidinger, Alexander Georgiev, Yuja Wang, Martin Grubinger Sr, and Martin Grubinger; Photo Credit: Chris Lee

The program began with Bartók’s Sonata for Two Piano and Percussion arranged for one piano and percussion by Martin Grubinger Sr. This was the most successful of the arrangements of the evening. Along with the Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta, this is Bartók at his most avant-garde with many references to jazz, interesting instrumentation, and spiky melodies. The biggest change to the score in this arrangement was splitting one of the piano parts into two marimbas played by exceptionally like one instrument by Mr. Grubinger and Mr. Georgiev – their coordination was almost surreal. The traditional percussion was played by Mr. Schmidinger and Mr. Grubinger Sr. The impact that this changed the entire timbre of the piece, becoming less incisive in a way but far more colorful. In a way it made the music sound even more avantgarde. In the mysterious opening chords after the rumbling timpani played by Martin Grubinger Sr, the aggressive playing of Ms. Wang was contrasted with the light tremolos on the marimba.

With two pianos this texture sounds more like an attack, but the woodiness of the marimbas added a lighter atmosphere and made Ms. Wang’s piano seem more percussive. It was a brilliant play to highlight the piano playing while improving the music making. Ms. Wang for her part seemed to naturally get the score switching from whacking chords for emphasize to lyrical furtive blending into the ensemble. In the second movement, Bartók employs his night music in a classic tenary form. Ms. Wang’s evocative playing here with the military-esque sound of the percussion and softness of the Marimbas worked well in tandem to produce an unusual Messiaen-like ethereal sound.

Mr. Grubinger and Mr. Georgiev exchanged more and more agitated lines with Ms. Wang leading into the virtuosic agitato with ripples of arpeggios punctuated by chords. Ms. Wang silvery sound moved through the dead hits of percussion, a dialogue less apparent in the original score. The group whipped its way through the Stravinsky-esque finale capturing a raw energy.

The sold-out crowd seemed somewhat confused by the music, perhaps a little too avant-garde for their taste – but to me it was thrilling. Luckily for most of the crowd the group came back onstage to play Martin Grubinger Sr.’s arrangement of John Psathas’s Etude from One Study for three percussionists and piano. This work is a virtuosic piece that riffs through a bunch different sequences and Mr. Grubinger Sr. made sure that each instrument got its own fun solo to show off. It was the perfect piece for some levity after the serious Bartók and genuinely sounded more in the idiom of a rock concert by the end of the etude, causing the crowd to roar with applause.

The second half of the program began with another Martin Grubinger Sr. Arrangement: this time of The Rite of Spring for one piano and three percussionists. Mr. Grubinger Sr.’s arrangement of this was magical, using elements of the two piano and one piano versions of the piece combined with marimba, vibraphone, chimes along with Stravinsky’s percussion of timpani, woodblock, washboard etc… to produce a completely unique sound that still paid homage to the original. It is incredibly unfortunate that the Stravinsky Estate decided a few weeks before this tour to ban this group from performing the work anywhere in which the copyright of the piece is still in effect (US being the only place where it is lifted), so this ended up being the second and last performance of the tour.

The group after the final applause (left to right): Martin Grubinger, Leonhard Schmidinger, Alexander Georgiev, Yuja Wang, and Martin Grubinger Sr.

The opening was flush with color using the vibraphone as the bassoon mixed with humming tremolos from the piano and marimba to slowly build into the percussive attacks of the Augurs of Spring. The explosive last few movements such as the Ritual of the Rival Tribes and the Dance of the Earth of the first part were where this arrangement really shined, sounding at once razor-sharp and still managing to capture Stravinsky’s innovative instrumentation. In the introduction to Part II, the primordial timbres were still achieved by Mr. Georgiev bowing the vibraphone (and perhaps bowed glass too?) producing an eerie metallic sound mixed with the light woody marimba of Mr. Grubinger and a base structure of Ms. Wang’s piano playing the string part of the score.

After those first two movements of Part II, the balance seemed quite off with the percussion absorbing all of Ms. Wang’s sound. Nonetheless, all four performances gave a virtuosic and energized performance. Interestingly, the percussion seemed less precise than Ms. Wang’s piano, particularly in the final section of the piece during the complicated rhythmic playing. The percussion chosen wasn’t able to stop its vibration quick enough, so some of the crisp beats sounded muddier from the bleeding sound. Still, the group seemed in perfect sync with one another, this was true ensemble playing.

To end the performance (personally it seemed odd to me to have anything after The Rite, given how climactic it is already), the group played Mr. Grubinger Sr.’s arrangement of Leticia Gómez-Tagle’s solo piano arrangement the popular orchestral work by Arturo Márquez Danzon No. 2. This poppy but fun piece was thoroughly enjoyable if a little light after The Rite. Ms. Wang seemed to really dig into the opening tango and enjoy the many different Latin American rhythms that come as the piece develops. The group did a good job keeping this fun and energized. After a thunderous applause Ms. Wang and Mr. Grubinger gave an encore of the two of them playing Jesse Sieff’s Chopstankovich, which essentially a virtuosic snare drum part added to Shostakovich String Quartet’s No. 8’s intense second movement (in this case, the string part performed by Ms. Wang on piano). It was a fun little encore to cap the evening’s eccentric program. It was a wonderful collaborative program that broke the more staid conservative environment with some of the best musicians around.

— Scoresby

October 28, 2018
Bychkov|Czech Philharmonic ~ Mahler 2nd

Above: Maestro Semyon Bychkov

Author: Oberon

Sunday October 28th, 2019 matinee – Attending a performance of the Mahler 2nd invariably fills me with memories of past performances of the work that I have experienced. By far the most meaningful of these came at Carnegie Hall in December 2001 when my late friend Makiko Narumi sang the solo alto part in a performance by the Juilliard Orchestra. She was suffering from a rare form of cancer, but heroically she sang…and moved everyone to tears with her “Urlicht“. She left Carnegie Hall in a wheelchair that night, and never sang in public again. She flew to Japan in March 2002 to seek treatment there, but she died at her parents’ home in Aomori within a month.

This afternoon, back at Carnegie, the great conductor Semyon Bychkov led the Czech Philharmonic in a rendering of this Mahler masterpiece that was not quite the soul-stirring experience I had been anticipating; the reasons for this were mainly extra-musical.

The conductor’s pacing of the work was flawless, and there were long paragraphs of superbly layered sound from the orchestra. The symphony’s epic climaxes and their ensuing ebbing away were impeccably judged by the Maestro. The courtly opening of the second movement, and the ‘Halloween’ dance of the third reminded me yet again of what a great work the Mahler 2nd truly is. Full-bodied strings and expert solo woodwind playing gave a great deal of pleasure, and the chorus played their part in the proceedings to wonderful effect.

These positive elements were somewhat offset by some fluffed brass playing, and by vocal soloists who were more serviceable than inspiring. Mezzo-Soprano Elisabeth Kulman sounded lovely in the very quiet start of the Urlicht; later, a trace of flatness crept in, and the concluding rising phrase of the song seemed a bit unsupported. She sounded fine, though, in the later O glaube! Soprano Christiane Karg’s upper notes were somewhat tremulous, though overall her sound is appealing.

But it was a series of noises in the hall that eventually took on a comic aspect – due to their frequency and timing – which made concentrating on the music next to impossible. It started during a dead silence midway thru the symphony’s opening Allegro maestoso; and it happened again during the Andante moderato. Then, just as Ms. Kulman was starting the Urlicht, there was a loud thud. And something else was dropped during an offstage brass passage.

In the final movement, everything at last seemed to be going smoothly – aside from some wonky brass notes and yet another dropped item – until the chorus made their hushed entrance. Here, atmosphere is everything. But the sound of a door closing somewhere ruined it.

When so many earth-bound distractions occur in the course of a single symphony, one feels battered down. My high expectations for this concert were slowly frittered away as the afternoon wore on.

Considering my abiding love for the Mahler 2nd, this is not at all the type of article I thought I’d be writing this evening. But an accumulation of ordinary annoyances – there were others that I haven’t mentioned – got the upper hand today.

NOTE: Ben Weaver writes about the Czech Philharmonic’s opening performance at Carnegie Hall, which took place on Saturday evening, October 27th, here. Ben was with me at the Mahler matinee, and said that the blips in the brass playing on Sunday were nowhere evident in the Dvořák program. He felt in general that the orchestra players might have been experiencing some fatigue on Sunday afternoon following a big program on Saturday night. He also said that the Dvořák program was free of audience distractions and extraneous noises.

~ Oberon

October 27, 2018
Ensemble Connect @ Weill Hall

Above: composer Gabriella Smith

~ Author: Brad S Ross

Monday October 22nd, 2018 – It was a cold night in New York City—one of those now all-too-often days where summer seems to have skipped fall entirely and moved straight into winter. Respite could be found for the audience at the Weill Recital Hall in Carnegie Hall, however, where the immensely talented players Ensemble Connect brought some much-needed warmth to a small percentage of classical music lovers.

Ensemble Connect is a two-year fellowship program with Carnegie Hall that comprises some of the finest young players in the United States. These musicians hail from some of the nation’s top music schools, including, as the program noted, the Curtis Institute of Music, the Juilliard School, the Peabody Institute, and the University of Southern California, among others. Indeed, there was not one sour note or poorly delivered phrase of the entire evening.

The concert began with György Ligeti’s Six Bagatelles for Wind Quartet—a set of six short movements adapted from his larger piano work Musica ricercata. Written in 1953 while the composer lived in Communist Hungary, the piece is a texturally rich and rhythmically adventurous foretaste of the polyphonic styles for which he would later come to fame with such works as Atmosphères and Lux aeterna. Six Bagatelles opens on an amusing Allegro con spirito followed by an attractively dissonant Rubato: Lamentoso, a warm and pulsing Allegro grazioso, a spirited Presto ruvido, a richly mysterious Adagio: Mesto (written in memoriam of the composer Béla Bartók), and an energetic Molto vivace that cheekily concludes the work. Performed with precision and zest by the members of Ensemble Connect, it was a delightful demonstration of mature musical humor—a rare quality in classical music.

Next was the New York premiere Anthozoa, a 2018 Ensemble Connect commission written for violin, cello, piano, and percussion by the young American composer Gabriella Smith. Anthozoa, as Smith explained in a brief pre-performance talk, was inspired by recordings that the composer made while scuba diving of sea life (its unique title derives from a class of marine invertebrates that encompasses corals and sea anemones). It opened on a colorful percussion solo that is quickly joined by prepared piano, sliding pizzicato cello, and unpitched strikes on the violin. Lengthy and propulsive soundscapes shifted throughout its twelve-minute duration revealing at times otherworldly sonorities. Dramatic piano chords gradually emerged underneath a rushing full-ensemble crescendo before receding into a somber, elegiac diminuendo that faded to a silent finale. Extended technique abounded in Anthozoa, which was as much fun to watch as it was to hear, and Smith received a well-earned ovation—perhaps the longest of the evening—before the concert paused for intermission. It’s a colorful and invigorating new work, one that will hopefully find many more performances in the future.

Above: composer Kaija Saariaho, photographed by Maarit Kytöharju

Following intermission was Light and Matter for violin, cello, and piano by the Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho. Saariaho, who by now must be counted among the finest composers alive, more than lived up to her reputation here as a master of the craft. Written during the autumn of 2014, Light and Matter was conceived, as the composer put it, “while watching from my window the changing light and colors of Morningside Park.” Menacing pulses open from the lower registers of the piano and cello before being joined by a belated violin. Once combined, they exchange a series of vivid textures and haunting atmospheres that cast a hypnotic spell for the piece’s twelve-minute duration. This aptly complimented the October evening of its performance.

The most warmth was brought to the proceedings with the final piece of the night, Johannes Brahms’s Clarinet Trio in A-minor. Composed in 1891, the trio marked Brahms’s return to composition after he considering retiring one year before. This is owed to his admiration of the clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld, whom Brahms regarded as “a master of his instrument.” Clarinetists may be forever grateful of this relationship, which also led to the composition of his Clarinet Quintet in 1891 and two Clarinet Sonatas in 1894. The Clarinet Trio, cast in four movements over approximately twenty-four minutes, comprises an inviting Allegro, a wistful Adagio, a buoyant Andantino grazioso, and an upbeat Allegro that sings the work to its final minor chord. The trio’s sweeping musical gestures and warm consonances were the very apex of Romanticism; this, combined with the relative coziness of the Weill Recital Hall, made for a sumptuous conclusion before players and audience retired into the chilly night air.

All of the musicians performed with the seemingly effortless mastery we’ve come to expect from such things, though it’s easy to forget sometimes just how much work and dedication got them there. Each deserves a mention, and to this end I will oblige; they were the hornist Wilden Dannenberg, the cellist Ari Evan, the pianist Tomer Gerwirtzman, the percussionist Sae Hashimoto, the violinist Jennifer Liu, the clarinetist Noémi Sallai, the flautist Leo Sussman, the oboist Tamara Winston, and the bassoonist Yen-Chen Wu. All should be cherished for their well-honed talents and can hopefully anticipate bright careers ahead.

~ Brad S Ross

October 26, 2018
Nobuyuki Tsujii|ORPHEUS @ Carnegie Hall

Above: pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii, photographed by Georgia Bertazzi

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday September 20th, 2018 – Pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii joining the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra for their season-opening concert at Carnegie Hall.

Arvo Pärt’s Frates opened the evening. Undoubtedly the composer’s best-known work, it was used by choreographer Christopher Wheeldon for his 2003 ballet LITURGY, created on New York City Ballet’s Wendy Whelan and Jock Soto. In that context, I’ve heard the music performed live many times; but tonight was my first experience of hearing it in a concert setting.

From its ethereal start, Fratres develops slowly as its theme is repeated in varying registers and instrumentations, punctuated by percussion accents. In this evening’s concert, the 2007 arrangement was performed, which includes winds. String and wind ensembles alternate ‘verses’ as the bass and deep celli sustain a low, grounding note of spiritual resonance. The depth of tone summoned up by the Orpheus players gave Fratres a feel of Russian bassos engaged in ritual chant.

Mr. Tsujii then joined the orchestra for a performance of Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F-Minor, Op. 21, in an arrangement by Shuying Li. The pianist, who is blind, was escorted to the piano where he sat, rocking gently as he awaited his entrance; he seemed to take the measure of the keyboard before launching his impressive and marvel-filled performance.

Nobu (as he is known) gives this music a gorgeous sense of flow. In his first solo passage, his sensitivity and attention to detail were in abundant evidence. He summons up a cushiony sound, and has a keen sense of the mixture of passion and reserve by which the opening Maestoso profits. Blending with the bassoon and then with the horn, Nobu regaled us with sumptuous tone and shining dexterity.

In the central Larghetto, the pianist imbued the music with a sense of quiet rapture, building to a state of transportive romance. Over tremolo strings, a feeling of mystery envelops us; silence falls before a delicate cadenza is introduced. The main melody recurs, leading to a quiet end. Throughout this movement, an atmosphere of hushed anticipation in the hall was a tribute to Nobu’s artistry.

The closing Allegro vivace is styled as a Polish folk dance. Nobu took barely a moment to spring from the Larghetto into this virtuoso revelry, spinning out florid passages with flair. His buoyant, dazzling playing danced on to the end, when the house erupted in massive applause and shouts of enthusiasm. A full standing ovation greeted Nobu’s bows, and he favored us with a jazzy encore: a concert étude by the Russian composer Nikolai Kapustin. A second encore seemed in the offing, but the musicians walked offstage, leaving the crowd wanting more. I’ll certainly be seeking out Nobu in future; there’s so much music I want to hear him play.

Following the interval, Tchaikovsky’s String Quartet No. 1 in D-Major, Op. 11, was offered in an arrangement for chamber orchestra by Christopher Theofanidis. The Playbill refers to the piece now as a “Chamber Symphony”, which is all well and good, though as my companion Ben Weaver commented, it’s almost unrecognizable to admirers of the original quartet setting.

Mr. Theofanidis’s arrangement – a veritable font of melody – is well-crafted and makes for a pleasing half-hour of listening, being lovingly played by the Orpheus musicians. Unfortunately, maintaining our focus was nearly impossible thanks to a series of distractions. A couple seated nearby spent several minutes intently watching something on their cellphone. Then suddenly the phone began playing Fratres; it took several seconds for the woman to shut it down, whereupon she dropped the phone with a thud. Meanwhile, during the Andante cantabile, a baby fussed loudly. Then the coup de grace: another cellphone played a blithe tune. Amid such shenanigans, concentration on the music we’d come to hear becomes an unnecessary chore.

UPDATE: I’ve just been watching TOUCHING THE SOUND, an extremely moving documentary about Nobuyuki Tsujii’s childhood, the discovery of his remarkable gift, his winning of the Cliburn in 2009, and his outreach to school children whose lives were shattered by the 2011 tsunami in Japan. Watch a trailer for the film here.

A quote from Nobuyuki: “I can see everything…with my heart.”

~ Oberon

September 20, 2018