Tag: Friday October

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
Pianist George Li @ Weill Hall
Above: George Li

~ Author: Oberon

Friday October 27th, 2017 – I first heard the young Chinese-American pianist George Li when he appeared at the 2015 Young Concert Artists gala; read about his marvelous performance here. Tonight I was glad of an opportunity to hear Mr. Li again, in a solo recital at Weill Hall.

Small of stature, the 21-year-old pianist is a titan of talent. In a well-devised program this evening, he captivated his large and very attentive audience with playing on the grand scale: and while he is capable of massive volume and of veritable thunderbolts hurled from the keyboard’s lower octaves, Mr. Li also shows expert dynamic control in nuanced phrases and great sensitivity in passages of poetic expression.

Mr. Li’s choice of Haydn to open his program proved ideal. In the composer’s B-Minor Sonata (1776), the pianist was able, within moments, to display his broad dynamic range. The opening Allegro moderato alternated subtle turns of phrase with full-bodied, emphatic motifs. The sonata’s Minuet, a simple melody, turns somewhat grander in the trio section; Mr. Li delineated this shift to perfection. In the somewhat rambunctious final Presto, the pianist teased us with charming pauses between scales and trills, tossing off all the coloratura passagework in this unusual and inventive movement with complete clarity.

The centerpiece of Mr. Li’s program was his interpretation of Chopin’s second sonata, which is built around its famous third movement: the Marche funèbre.

From its turbulent opening, the opening Grave – Doppio movimento gave us a breathtaking display of the pianist’s gifts. The music is alternately seething and pensive, with a rising theme corresponding to a rise in the player’s passion. My notes on his playing were reduced to “Huge!”, “Thrilling!” and “Epic turmoil!” After a brief display of tenderness, the pianist became so searingly rhapsodic that I simply wrote “DAMN!”. In an electrifying moment, Mr. Li sustained the movement’s concluding chord and then suddenly pulled his hands off the keyboard to his chest. It was a gesture I’ll never forget.

Following an agitato start and some darkly wild passages, the second movement turns into a slow waltz. Mr. Li wandered beautifully thru this musical landscape, reveling in his dynamic control. After a return to speediness, the music ends on a fading note: more magic.

The doleful Marche funèbre was poignantly played; we felt the weight of the world upon us in Mr. Li’s deeply mournful phrases. Then a clear, sentimental melody rises from the bleakness. With heartfelt modulations and a caressive softness of touch, the pianist’s playing here was transportive. The march then returns, and gloom settles in once more.

With a scurrying feeling, the sonata’s concluding Presto seems almost like an afterthought in its brevity. After about a minute, Mr. Li’s nimble hands suddenly hesitate and the sonata ends with a briskly struck chord.

The Chopin elicited prolonged applause from the audience, and Mr. Li was called back for two bows; he acknowledged our enthusiasm with a lovely hand-over-heart gesture.

Following a longish interval during which the piano tuner seemed to be performing major surgery on the Steinway, Mr. Li returned with works by Rachmaninoff and Liszt.

I found Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli, written in 1931, to be the least interesting music on the program. The theme itself is nothing to write home about; then Rachmaninoff throws everything but the kitchen sink into the variations. Mr. Li brought all his prodigious gifts to this piece, from the simple setting forth of the theme thru the panoramic rhythms and harmonies of the endless variations. The audience were with him every step of the way, but – for all the delights of his playing – I found myself wishing he had programmed something else.

Such notions were swept away with Mr. Li’s choices of the concluding works for his recital: ideally contrasted, Franz Liszt’s meditative the Consolation in D-flat Major found its perfect counter-poise in the mad virtuosity of his Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.

In the Consolation, the pianist created a dreamlike atmosphere with his delicate, contemplative playing. Then there was a brief silence and Mr. Li launched the Hungarian Rhapsody with its vibrant gypsy themes. Sparkling virtuosity, and a sense of playfulness in his variances of speed and witty pauses, the pianist kept the audience enthralled. The sight of his fingers flying up and down the keyboard at super-speed with mind-boggling.

Engulfed in waves of heartfelt applause, Mr. Li offered two encores from the operatic repertoire, displaying both his sensitive and his uninhibited sides. In the gentle and simple clarity of the Blessed Spirit theme from Gluck’s ORFEO ED EURIDICE and then in the sexy brilliance of the Chanson bohème from Bizet’s CARMEN, Mr. Li summarized his dual nature: as a poet and a virtuoso.

The Program:
- HAYDN Piano Sonata in B Minor, Hob. XVI: 32
- CHOPIN Piano Sonata No. 2 in B-flat Minor, Op. 35
- RACHMANINOFF Variations on a Theme of Corelli
- LISZT Consolation No. 3 in D-flat Major
- LISZT Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp Minor
~ Oberon
October 27, 2017
Tero Saarinen Company @ The Joyce

Above: from Tero Saarinen’s Morphed; photo by Günther Gröger

~ Author: Oberon

Friday October 20th, 2017 – Tero Saarinen Company, one of Europe’s premiere contemporary dance companies, presenting Morphed, an all-male work, at The Joyce.

With a running time of just over one hour, Morphed is performed by seven dancers of varying ages and physiques on a truly fascinating set designed by Bessie-award winner Mikki Kunttu, who also supervised the excellent lighting. Finnish fashion designer Teemu Muurimäki’s black & white costumes ideally completed the visual setting. While the eye was constantly intrigued, the ear could revel in music drawn from three works by Finnish composer Esa-Pekka Salonen. Blending all these elements into a cohesive whole made for one of the most satisfying evenings of dance I’ve encountered in the past two decades.

The sound of the French horn (my instrument!) commenced even as the lights went down immediately seizing the imagination, conjuring visions of both the dawn and of the hunt. This gorgeous music is Salonen’s Concert étude for solo horn (composed 2000). In a space surrounded on three sides by hanging ropes, the seven dancers – all in black hoods – simply walk and walk; sometimes their walking seems casual and free, at other times more regimented. The scene brightens and the dancers appear in silhouette.

The hoods come off, and new music takes over – from Salonen’s Foreign Bodies (2001) – which has a kozmic energy. The hanging ropes become part of the choreography as the men walk among them, gathering them, grasping them for support, sending them flying. Solo and duet passages unfold, observed (or ignored) by the men who are not dancing at the moment. One especially powerful pas de deux climaxes with one man dragging the other about by the shirt on his back.

Suddenly the music goes haywire and things get wild; the dancers rush about until calm is restored and the music becomes slow and other-worldly. Then, linking arms, the men begin to swirl like a turning wheel. The hanging ropes are activated, creating a mass effect of contrasted motions in the space: really impressive!

Silence falls, and the agitato of Salonen’s violin concerto accompanies a lighting shift to blue. A solo is danced, which morphs into a trio. Bits of clothing start to come off. Then golden light settles in, and a stylized duet, with motifs reminiscent of Nijinsky’s Faune, is yet another compelling passage. The dancers, some of them now shirtless, continue to move, to strike poses, or to repose upon the floor as the curtain falls.

I think the highest praise I can give to Saarinen’s Morphed is that, when it ended, I was ready to sit thru it again.

~ Oberon

October 20, 2017
Noseda|Yuja Wang|London Symphony

Friday October 28th, 2016 – Gianandrea Noseda (above) conducting the London Symphony at Geffen Hall, with works by Wagner and Shostakovich book-ending a performance of the Ravel G-major piano concerto by Yuja Wang. The concert was part of the Lincoln Center Great Performers series.

The evening began with the orchestra making an “entrance”. This pretentious ritual should be abandoned, and tonight’s audience weren’t buying it: there was about 5 seconds of applause and then the majority of the players had to find their places in silence. It was all mildly embarrassing. After the intermission, they tried it again and, after a smattering of hand-claps, silence again prevailed.

I’m so accustomed to hearing the overture to DIE MEISTERSINGER played from the Metropolitan Opera House’s pit that the massed sound of The London players onstage at Geffen tonight came as a jolt. To me, Gianandrea Noseda’s choice of pacing in the opening theme seemed too slow. The sound was very dense and I missed the layering of voices that can make this music so fascinating. The playing was marvelous, and the impression grandiose, but much of the time it seemed like sonic over-kill: exciting in its own way, but not finding an emotional center.

Above: Yuja Wang

I love a well-contrasted program, but following the Wagner overture with Ravel’s charmingly jazzy and often delicate G-major piano concerto – an idea that seemed ideal on paper – didn’t quite come off. The Ravel, dazzlingly played by Yuja Wang, seemed oddly inconsequential – for all its delights.

Commencing in the ‘toy piano’ register, the opening Allegramente proceeds thru varying moods – from magically mystery to bluesy languor – with the piano line woven among gentle coloristic passages from the winds and harp. In the Adagio, introspective yet subtly passionate, we’re reminded of the beautiful ‘beach’ pas de deux that Jerome Robbins created for his ballet “In G Major“. Boisterous interjections from wind instruments attempt to jar the pianist from her mission in the concluding Allegro assai, but the music rushes onward to a final exclamation point.

Yuja Wang performed the concerto superbly, making a particularly lovely impression with the extraordinary delicacy of her playing in the Adagio. In the animation of the finale, she blazed away with marvelous energy, causing the audience to explode in cheers and tumultuous applause at her final jubilant gesture. Ms. Wang is a musician who brings a rock-star’s pizazz to classical music; but far from being just a stage-crafty icon, she has the technique and artistry to stand with the best of today’s pianists.

This evening, Yuja Wang played three encores. This delighted the crowd, but in the midst of a symphonic concert, one encore suffices…or two, at a stretch; in a solo recital, you can keep encoring til the wee hours, as Marilyn Horne did at Salzburg in 1984. Ms. Wang’s third recall brought her most intriguing playing of the evening an: arrangement of Schubert’s Gretchen am Spinnrade which was hypnotic in its restlessness and its melodious mood of quiet desperation.

Is Shostakovich’s fifth symphony the greatest symphony ever written? It certainly seemed that way tonight, and though one wonders what the composer might have written had he not been in need of paying penance to Stalin following the dictator’s displeasure with LADY MACBETH OF MTSENSK, the result of Shostakovich’s desire to please under threatening circumstances resulted in this titanic masterpiece.

Maestro Noseda and The London players served up this astounding music in a performance that was thrilling from first note to last. Commencing with solo clarinet and moving on to a passage with piano and deep brass, the opening Moderato becomes extremely noisy..and then subsides. The pairing of flute and horn is a stroke of genius, with the clarinet and high violin picking up the melodic thread. The misterioso flute casts a spell.

In the Allegretto, solo winds pop up before Shostakovich commences a waltz. Irony and wit hover overall, with featured passages for a procession of instruments: violin, flute, trumpet, a bassoon duo. Plucking strings bring a fresh texture.

The dolorous opening of the Largo dispels any thoughts of lightness that the Allegretto might have stirred up. In this third movement, the brass do not play at all. Weeping strings, and the mingling of harp and flute lead to a rising sense of passion coloured by desolation. This evolves into a theme for oboe and violins. A lonely clarinet and a forlorn flute speak to us before a grand build-up commences with the strings in unison really digging into it. The music wafts into a high haze of despair, the harp trying to console. Just as the whispering final phrase was vanishing into thin air, someone’s device made an annoying intrusion: another great musical moment smudged by thoughtlessness.

The fourth movement, with its driven sense of propulsive grandeur, is thought to have marked Shostakovich’s triumph over the woes besetting him; but it has also been described as “forced rejoicing”. Whichever may be the case, the glorious horn theme, the aching strings, and the slow build-up to the epic finish certainly raised the spirits tonight. The cymbalist’s exuberant clashes at the end took on a celebratory feel.

It was reported that, at this symphony’s 1937 premiere, members of the audience began to weep openly during the Largo. Today, some 80 years on, there is still much to weep over in the world: religious and political forces continue to divide mankind; our planet is slowly being ravaged; racism, sexism, ageism, homophobia, and casual violence pervade the headlines daily. As we seem to slip deeper and deeper into some terrible abyss, it is in music, art, poetry, dance, and great literature that we may seek consolation. Tonight, the Shostakovich felt like an affirmation of faith in humanity, and we must cling to that against all odds.

October 28, 2016
Britten & Mozart @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Inon Barnatan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Above: Jaap van Zweden in a Marco Borrgreve portrait

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

October 31, 2015
Britten & Mozart @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Inon Barnatan

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Above: Jaap van Zweden in a Marco Borrgreve portrait

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

October 30, 2015
ASO Season Opens @ Carnegie Hall

Above: Richard Strauss, the composer of Also sprach Zarathustra

Friday October 16th, 2015 – The American Symphony Orchestra opened their 2015-2016 season at Carnegie Hall with a program entitled Mimesis: Musical Representations.

Gunther Schuller’s 7 Studies on Themes of Paul Klee opened the program, and what a brilliant and highly imaginative piece it is. The seven songs are vividly differentiated in instrumentation and rhythm, becoming aural counterparts for seven paintings by the Swiss modernist Paul Klee (1879-1940). “Each of the seven pieces bears a slightly different relationship to the original Klee picture from which it stems,” Schuller wrote. “Some relate to the actual design, shape, or color scheme of the painting, while others take the general mode of the picture or its title as a point of departure.”

In “Antique Harmonies” Schuller’s music is sombre and dense. An immediate contract comes in “Abstract Trio” with whimsical winds and a single pluck of the strings. “Little Blue Devil” is captivatingly jazzy, with thrumming bass, muted trumpet, xylophone. Insectuous sounds pervade “The Twittering Machine” with edgy woodwinds and a wood-on-wood tone block marking time. “Arab Village” is an absolute delight, with a flautist playing from offstage; her ‘voice’ inspires a magical dance for harp, viola and, as the full orchestra plays very softly. They play even softer for the opening of “An Eerie Moment” which eventually rumbles grandly before fading away. For the final “Pastorale”, the violins play a repetitive two-note figure while the winds sigh, rather mournfully.

The Schuller really is a great piece; I’ve only encountered his music rarely over the years…I need to seek it out.

Henri Dutilleux’s Correspondances brought forth the beauteous soprano Sophia Burgos (above). In this cycle of five songs, the composer draws on a variety of texts: poems by Rilke and Mukherjee, and letters written by Solzhenitsyn to the Rostropovichs and by Vincent van Gogh to his brother Theo.

The singer’s agile, silvery timbre is shot thru with gem-like flecks of colour; she has an extensive range and her voice was beautifully set off by the marvelous instrumental combinations Dutilleux has employed. Countless entrancing passages for various instrumental combinations keep the ear pricked up: an especially appealing tuba outing in the Interlude, and the cunning use of accordion.

Ms. Burgos moved with thorough vocal command from urgency to passion to evocation; the audience, very taken with her, broke in with applause during the cycle, and Maestro Botstein took it in stride, nodding approvingly. In the final song, the soprano was at her most poignantly expressive: an affecting descending vocalise is heard over the shimmering strings before things take a dramatic turn and she soars to an ecstatic concluding high note. Brava! And bravi to the players as well.

Following the interval, Nico Muhly’s Seeing is Believing seemed to me – and to my pianist-companion – the least interesting work on the program. A sort of tone poem for electric violin (played by virtuoso Tracy Silverman) and orchestra, the work stretched out over 25 minutes of rather ‘same-y’ sounds and repetitive motifs.

According to the program notes, Muhly’s inspiration for the work was the practice of mapping the stars in the sky; yet I could detect no sense of the wonderment one would expect to experience is questing the heavens. Instead the music seemed earth-bound and tended to wallow in its own density. Mr. Silverman was in total command of his electrified instrument, producing some striking effects in the layered, echoing passages. Having been impressed by Muhly’s orchestrational skills in his opera. The Dark Sisters, I was disappointed with tonight’s offering. The composer was present and took a bow from his box. To me, the audience seemed to embrace the violinist without embracing the music he had just played.

Richard Strauss’s Also Sprach Zarathustra closed the evening on an epic note. Beyond its super-familiar but always impressive opening statement, the work is a rich and royal sonic tapestry into which Strauss has woven one appealing thread after another. Abounding in solo opportunities for individual instruments, this thrilling work further features a gorgeous tutti theme for celli and violins, and some interjections for organ to Westernize its spiritual aspects; an entrancing Viennese waltz looks forward to ROSENKAVALIER in no uncertain terms.

Overall, a grand finale for an impressively-played concert. And the American Symphony Orchestra‘s next concert, on December 17th, looks fascinating to me.

October 16, 2015
Robin Becker’s INTO SUNLIGHT

Above: the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington DC

Friday October 25th, 2013 – My association with Robin Becker’s dancework INTO SUNLIGHT, set during the Vietnam War era, stretches back to November 2010 when my dancer/friend Paul (Oisin) Monaghan suggested that Kokyat and I drop in to one of Robin’s rehearsals. I was immediately drawn to Robin’s movement style and to the theme of the work.

Inspired by Pulitzer prize-winning author David Maraniss’s book THEY MARCHED INTO SUNLIGHT,
Robin Becker has crafted an hour-long dancework with a musical score by Chris
Lastovicka. While the events depicted –
the ambush of a batallion of American soldiers in the Vietnam jungle and
the protest against Dow Chemical at the University of Wisconsin – took
place on two consecutive days in October of 1967, INTO SUNLIGHT
resonates far beyond those specific incidents, and will continue to
resonate as long as mankind resorts to warfare as a way of settling
religious and idelogical differences – differences which will never be settled anyway.

INTO SUNLIGHT was shown in June 2011 at the 92nd Street Y; now it has come to
the Florence Gould Theater. For the most part, the leading dancers have
retained their roles from the original cast: Nicole Sclafani, Yoko Sagimoto-Ikezawa, Lisa Clementi, Oisin Monaghan, Chazz Fenner-McBride and Edwardo Brito. Sarah Parker is new to the Company and makes a beautiful impression.

Over the two years since I saw this dancework, the original dancers have matured: in physique, technique and stagecraft, they now give the work more nuance and complexity while maintaining their individual appeal as personalities. This developmental process has given INTO SUNLIGHT a more polished and compelling look, without sacrificing freshness. The Company are supplemented by an ensemble of nine young dancers who bring their own faces and forms into play.

Among the most vivid moments of INTO SUNLIGHT are
two duets: in one, Nicole Sclafani and Paul Monaghan depict the dream a
young woman had of her brother’s horrific death from a massive abdominal
wound – a dream which came true. Later – in the work’s most poignant passage – Yoko Sugimoto-Ikezawa visits
the grave of her beloved (the ensemble dancer Ricky Wenthen) where she seeks to
connect with his spirit.

There is also an animated trio for three soldiers – Oisin Monaghan, Chazz
Fenner-McBride and Edwardo Brito – recalling the innocent rough-housing of their younger days while dealing with the realities of serving in a war in a far-away land and watching their buddies being killed or maimed. Chazz also has a physically demanding solo depicting the moment that West Point football hero Don
Holleder rushed heedlessly onto the battleground towards his vanquished
comrades only to be gunned down. The three boys are distinctive stage personalities: Oisin, pale and enigmatic; Edwardo with his easy moves, handsome torso and expressive face; and Chazz, who has lost his puppy-dog boyishness and is now a muscularized young man, moving with compelling energy.

The work shifts between solemn rites and more animated emsemble passages; only near the end does the balance go off somewhat: the final two movements are perfomed mostly in slow-motion, the dancers re-arranging themselves in structures which then dissolve and re-form. As lovely as this is to watch, after a while it can’t sustain us visually and our focus begins to falter. Some compression here would make for a more powerful experience as the work moves to its pensive conclusion.

But despite this concern, INTO SUNLIGHT is beautifully performed: it’s a dancework that is thought-provoking and meaningful, even as civilization continues to blunder thru war after war. I congratulate Robin Becker, Chris Lastovicka, and everyone involved in bringing this work to the stage.

October 25, 2013
Premiere Performance: Intermezzo Dance Company

Friday October 18th, 2013 – Since I was involved in the early planning stages of these first performances by Craig Salstein’s Intermezzo Dance Company. I can’t really write about their premiere performance tonight at the 92nd Street Y with any sense of detachment – not that we should ever be detached from dance. But of course I loved the music – the Verdi string quartet and a fantasia on themes from his opera A MASKED BALL (all played live by the Wyrick Quartet) – and the choreographers and dancers all came thru with flying colours. And the audience was simply loaded with dance-world celebrities.

With three sold-out performances, Intermezzo‘s off to a fine start, and I know Craig has some exciting future plans – which can’t, as yet, be announced.

Hopefully I’ll soon have some production photos to share.

October 18, 2013
Columbia Ballet Collaborative: Rehearsals

Above: choreographer Lisa de Ribere works on a pas de deux to be danced by Rebecca Azenberg and John Poppe at the upcoming performances by Columbia Ballet Collaborative.

Friday October 27th, 2012 – I stopped by at Barnard College where two of the five choreographers involved in the upcoming performances by the Columbia Ballet Collaborative were rehearsing. Lisa de Ribere is creating an ensemble work, while Emery LeCrone is reviving a solo piece originally made on Drew Jacoby, and now to be danced by Kaitlyn Gilliland.

Lisa’s studio was my first stop; several dancers I know were there and she was sorting out a fast-paced section of her two-part ballet which uses music by John Pizzarelli (Traffic Jam) and Norman Dello Joio – an interesting pairing to be sure.

At the start of the pas de deux (above) in which Rebecca and John slowly and warily investigate one another before moving on to a more intimate quality.

Rebecca Azenberg & John Poppe

Click on each image to enlarge.

I then moved to the Streng Studio where choreographer Emery LeCrone (above) was working with one of Gotham’s most gorgeous dancers, Kaitlyn Gilliland, on a solo entitled ARIA.

Kaitlyn Gilliland

Set to music by the Balanescu Quartet, ARIA is a space-filling solo which suits Kaitlyn long limbs and her innate spiritual quality to perfection. Emery and Kaitlyn have an easy rapport and mutual appreciation, so the rehearsal was a particularly pleasant experience.

Kaitlyn!

The Columbia Ballet Collaborative‘s Autumn 2012 performances will take place at Manhattan Movement and Arts Center on November 16th and 17th. Details here. In addition to the works by Lisa and Emery, ballets by John Poppe, Nick Kepley and Daniel Mantei will be performed. I’m hoping to get to rehearsals of the three gentlemen’s creation in the next few days.

October 29, 2012