Oberon's Glade

Tag: Lincoln Center

  • The Met @ Lincoln Center: 50 Years On

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    September 16th, 2016 – Fifty years ago tonight, the Metropolitan Opera opened at their new home at Lincoln Center with the world premiere performance of Samuel Barber’s ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA starring Leontyne Price, Justino Diaz, and Jess Thomas, conducted by Thomas Schippers. The performance was broadcast live, and – needless to say – I was tuned in.

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    I remember listening in my little room in the big house in tiny Hannibal, New York, where I grew up. The possibility of a strike by the musicians of The Met’s orchestra had left the future of the season beyond this first night up in the air; but during the intermission, Rudolf Bing stepped out before the gold curtain to announce that the strike had been averted and new contracts signed. I – always so reticent – let out a whoop and raced downstairs, excitedly telling my parents the news; they thought I was deranged, but that was nothing new.

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    But I had a vested interest in the outcome of The Met’s contract negotiations, because in August I had made my first solo trip to New York City and I had tickets to several upcoming performances, including the final ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA of the run. So now my plans were a “go”, and I was soon making frequent pilgrimages to Lincoln Center and falling in love with the City where I would eventually live.

    Read an article about my experience on the first ticket line for The Met at Lincoln Center here.

  • Maralin as Marguerite

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    Maralin Niska (above), the American soprano who passed away on July 9th, 2016, was one of a handful of singers whose performances could induce me to travel – first from Syracuse, NY, to see her in several roles at New York City Opera, and later from Hartford, CT – where TJ and I had settled in the mid-1970s – to Lincoln Center, where she was singing at both the State Theatre and The Met.

    Once, she even came to Hartford to sing Violetta, replacing another soprano on short notice. We were so excited when we arrived at The Bushnell and saw the announcement of the cast change; we rushed to the stage door to leave her a message, and en route we found her, just thirty minutes before curtain time, banging desperately on what she thought was the stage door. She was so happy to see us, not least because we were able to lead her to the proper entrance.

    Violetta, Mimi, Tosca, Butterfly, Nedda, Countess Almaviva…these were some of the roles from the standard repertoire in which Niska thrilled me. Her triumphs in such great dramatic vehicles as Cherubini’s Medea, Strauss’s Salome, and Janacek’s Emilia Marty were the stuff of operatic legend. In roles as diverse as Yaroslavna in PRINCE IGOR, the Composer in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS, Rosalinda in FLEDERMAUS, and Elisabetta I in MARIA STUARDA, she achieved miracles of characterization and of voice.

    Yet for all that, is was – curiously enough – as Marguerite in FAUST that Maralin gave a (somewhat unexpectedly) sensational performance that has lingered so clearly in my mind over the ensuing years. In the unforgettable Frank Corsaro production – in which the devil wins – Maralin left the notion of Marguerite as a shrinking violet in the dust. Faust’s love for the girl signaled not only her romantic but also her sexual awakening.

    In the Garden Scene, on the brink of having her, Faust backs off, causing Maralin/Marguerite to burst into frantic sobs of frustration; when he reappears after Marguerite’s ecstatic invocation, there’s no going back. 

    As the opera draws to its end, Faust comes to rescue Marguerite from prison, where she awaits execution for murdering her child. The demented girl imagines they are back in the garden; she ignores Faust’s pleas to come away. When Mephistopheles appears to urge theme to hurry, Marguerite sees him for what he is and turns to fervent prayer. Faust tries one last time to persuade her to flee, but she turns on him, crying: “Pourquoi ces mains rouge de sang? Va! … tu me fais horreur!”  (“Why are your hands red with blood? Go!…you fill me with horror!”) No soprano has done that last line quite like Maralin.

    Heavenly voices declare Marguerite’s salvation; she begins to climb a steep staircase, but at the top of it, double doors fly open, and instead of an angelic host she is greeted by a towering executioner, masked and carrying an monstrous axe. Faust rushes up the steps to try to save her, but the doors are slammed shut in his face. Mephistopheles steps out of the shadows, calling Faust’s name quietly, and waving the contract with which Faust had sold away his soul to the devil in Act I.

    I’ve been able to preserve some excerpts from one of Maralin’s performances in this role at NYC Opera; the date was March 15, 1970, and her colleagues were Nicholas di Virgilio (Faust) and Norman Treigle (Mephistopheles). The original tapes are in a fragile state – I was lucky they played well enough to save them to MP3. The sound quality leaves much to be desired, but hearing these scenes brings back wonderful memories for me:

    Niska – FAUST aria – NYCO 3

    FAUST – Garden Scene exc – Niska – di Virgilio – Treigle – NYCO 3

    Maralin Niska & Norman Treigle – scene from FAUST – NYCO 3~15~70

    FAUST – finale – Niska – di Virgilio – Treigle – NYCO 3

    Photographer Beth Bergman has created a beautiful memorial in photos to Maralin Niska on her website: visit the page here.

  • Britten’s Endgame

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    Tuesday July 19th, 2016 – I pulled this John Bridcut/BBC film off the shelf at the Performing Arts Library at Lincoln Center today, played it immediately on getting home, and found it thoroughly engrossing. The documentary focuses of the final years of the great composer’s life when – despite failing health – he churned out such masterworks as DEATH IN VENICE, the cantata PHAEDRA, and the 3rd String Quartet.

    Archival footage of Britten – conducting, playing the piano, chatting and performing with his life-companion Peter Pears, and greeting Queen Elizabeth II at the Aldeburgh Festival – is interspersed with interviews with both music-world luminaries (Dame Janet Baker, Steuart Bedford, Sir Charles Mackerras, Mark-Anthony Turnage) and people who knew the composer personally or were care-givers (David Hemmings, Sue Phipps, Rosamund Strode, his surgeon Dr. Michael Petch, and the tirelessly dedicated Rita Thomson). Thru their words and the reading of intimate letters, the film gives us a vividly personal portrait of Britten in the last three years of his life. 

    Then there are the superb musical excerpts, seemingly staged in the studio specially for this DVD. Absolutely splendid choral work from the Schola Cantorum of Oxford, including parts of Hymn to the Virgin, written when Britten was 16 years old. Tenor John Graham-Hall is most impressive as Aschenbach in scenes from DEATH IN VENICE; another tenor, Allan Clayton, joins horn player Michael Thompson in some gorgeous passages from the Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings; the Fitzwilliam String Quartet’s ravishing playing of portions of the String Quartet #3 makes us doubly regretful that it was Britten’s last substantial work.

    In a magnificent performance, mezzo-soprano Sarah Connolly is a thrilling Phaedra; her singing is juxtaposed with Dame Janet Baker’s spoken recollections of collaborating with Britten on the cantata’s creation.

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    Britten died of heart disease in 1976 at the age of 63, five years younger than I am now. He is buried next to Peter Pears in the Parish Churchyard, Aldeburgh.

  • Sumptuous Strings @ Chamber Music Society

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    Above: violist Yura Lee

    Sunday May 22nd, 2016 – Bringing together a sextet of first-class string players, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center presented the final program of their Alice Tully Hall season (a program which will be repeated on Tuesday, May 24th); music by Richard Strauss, Brahms, and Dvořák was on offer.

    In Richard Strauss’s intimate opera CAPRICCIO, a rehearsal of Flamand’s newly-composed string sextet is in progress as the curtain rises on the salon of the Countess Madeleine’s château. As the opera evolves, the Countess will be called upon by her rival suitors – the composer Flamand and the poet Olivier – to answer the eternal question, “Which is the greater art, poetry or music?”, and thus to determine which of the two gentleman she favors. The opera, which includes the beloved Moonlight Music and ends with the Countess’s ravishing final aria, has been a vehicle for such beloved sopranos as Lisa Della Casa, Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, and Renee Fleming.

    It was a real treat to hear the string sextet this evening in a concert setting, and especially as it was given such a radiant performance by today’s ensemble…an ensemble of stars. Erin Keefe, wearing a striking pleated gown of gunmetal grey which set off her auburn hair, displayed (all evening, really) her ability to spin out magical phrases over a vast dynamic spectrum: she can taper her tone down to a shimmering piano/pianissimo only to soar in full-bodied melody moments later. Across from Ms. Keefe, Yura Lee, in a deep persimmon shawl and be-jeweled stilettos, summoned heartfelt sounds from her viola. A delicious “trembling” motif heralded Nicholas Canellakis’ solo, with his lustrous depth of tone.

    As Wu Han remarked in a program note, one of the things players love most about performing string sextets is: you have a mate playing the same instrument sitting next to you. And when – as in today’s Strauss – these are musicians of the calibre of Ani Kavafian (violin), Matthew Lipman (viola), and David Finckel (cello), the level of music-making is off the charts. Such gorgeous and immaculate blendings of sound, and such congenial lyricism.

    From the Strauss, so deeply engaging both musically and emotionally, the players turned to Johannes Brahms’ String Quintet No. 1. This piece was a particular favorite of the composer himself, or at least that is the impression he gave in writing this to his publisher: “You have never before had such a beautiful work from me.”

    Ms. Kavafian took the lead here, playing with her signature grace and expressiveness; she and Ms. Keefe formed a de luxe violin duo, their voices mingling with engaging clarity and savoring their many pinpoint dynamic nuances. In the melodically abounding first movement of this work, Yura Lee’s viola sings – three times – a melody that brings to mind some of the composer’s most beloved lieder. At one point, Yura and Ani ‘converse’ with one another. Nick Canellakis’s cello gives the music its resonant grounding, whilst Mr. Lipman’s evident enjoyment of the music he is playing makes him a musician as pleasing to watch as to hear. 

    In the quintet’s second movement, the instrumental voices created a lovely chorale-like atmosphere; a more animated interlude soon gives way to a return to wistfulness, and then fades mysteriously away. For the concluding Allegro energico, the five players could cavort amiably thru the rhythmic shifts with zestful playing and much mutual eye-contact as the piece sailed on to its merry conclusion.

    Following the interval, Antonin  Dvořák’s Sextet in A-major, with its goodly portion of folkish elements, found all six players on optimum form. Right from the start, with Erin Keefe’s shining tone in the opening theme, one could sense we were in for a special treat. Nick Canellakis took up the melodic thread as the Allegro moderato proceeded thru some very imaginative harmonies.

    [A cellphone went off, but at least it was between movements…and it was a ‘classical-music’ ringtone.]

    In the second movement, Dumka: Elegie; Poco allegretto, a dance which is at once both droll and dolorous is heard. The music has a sad gypsy lilt. David Finckel’s cello sets up a treading motif, over which a lament from his fellow players suggests a walk to the graveyard. In a swift change of mood, the Furiant: Presto is lively as fleeting snatches of melody pass from voice to voice. A swaying feeling pervades the music.

    The resonantly poetic sound of Matthew Lipman’s viola sets forth the theme of the final movement; variations follow where we could again savour the silver-lit sheen of Ms. Keefe’s playing and delight once more in her ability to colour phrases with her dynamic gradations.

    A sprightly dance gives way to a thoughtful cello theme from Mr. Canellakis; things intensify before subtle turns of phrase draw us to a lingering fade-out. Ms. Keefe weaves a new variation on the melody as Mr. Finckel and the violas offer plucking support. And then a high-energy dance bursts forth, only to accelerate to double-time before an urgent rising motif sends us on to a grand finish.

    The players were called out twice by the delighted audience; both the players and their admirers seemed reluctant for the concert – and the season – to end.

    Now we will have a hiatus from CMS concerts, though the musicians we’ve come to love will stay busy playing here, there, and everywhere worldwide. For the second year, the Society will offer a Summer festival at Alice Tully Hall – details here – which will help to sustain us til the Autumn.

    The Repertory:

    The Participating Artists:

  • The Romantic Viola @ Chamber Music Society

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    Sunday April 14th, 2016 – No fewer than eight violas were in play on the Adrienne Arsht Stage at Alice Tully Hall this evening as Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center offered an exceptional program, curated and head-lined by Paul Neubauer (above), in which the viola was heard in music by seven different composers (plus one anonymous composition). The program ranged from mid-19th century works to a world premiere by Joan Tower, who was present and took a bow…and got a kiss from Mr. Neubauer.

    A Robert Schumann rarity and a fantasy-suite by August Klughardt were the first two works on the program; written about twenty years apart, the two pieces each call for violist, pianist, and a woodwind collaborator. It was our good fortune this evening to have clarinetist Romie de Guise-Langlois and oboist James Austin Smith joining Mr. Neubauer and pianist Alessio Bax. Both Mlle. de Guise-Langlois and the dapper Mr. Smith are elegant players, and both are blessed with astonishing breath control.

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    Above: Romie de Guise-Langlois

    The Schumann opens like a breath of Springtime. Clarinet and viola pass melodies back and forth, eventually honed down to a dialogue where they finish one another’s sentences. Underscored by Mr. Bax’s immaculate playing, Mlle. de-Guise-Langlois’ and Mr. Neubauer’s blend of timbres was most appealing. The second movement veers from march-like to moments of ironic deftness to a free flow of song, which the pianist takes up. Poignant and pensive, the third movement has a touch of mystery; here Mlle. de Guise-Langlois was able to sustain long lines with total control, tapering the tone into a sweet blend with the Neubauer viola. The animated fourth movement – which pauses midway thru for a gently-paced passage – was as pleasant to watch as to hear, as the eye-to-eye contact of Romie and Paul was keenly focused; Mr. Bax’s piano provided added joy.

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    Above: James Austin Smith

    The slender frame and expressive face of James Austin Smith might have graced the salons at Kellynch Hall or Pendersleigh Park: a youthful, romantic figure. His playing also has an Olde World geniality: dulcet of tone and (as with Mlle. de Guise-Langlois) blessed with an uncanny ability to spin out long lines. In August Klughardt’s Schilflieder, Mr. Smith established at once an ideal rapport with Paul Neubauer.

    The first of the five “fantasies” opens with solo piano, soon joined by the plaintive oboe and the soulful viola; the second brings the restless viola into harmonizing with the oboe. Mr. Bax’s dreamy playing leads off the third movement, with the viola and then the oboe singing sadly and tenderly; the pianist’s sense of delicacy was a lovely asset here. The fourth movement begins dramatically, with viola and oboe sounding forth over a rippling piano motif.

    Mr. Smith’s formidable breath control was much admired in the closing movement; the atmosphere is poetic and sustained, the viola wistful. A nicely-turned cadenza for oboe led to the end of the work with a very sustained joint oboe/viola note. 

    Both the Schumann and Klughardt were brand new to me, and both made me wonder why we don’t hear them played more often. Of course, the Gordon Jacob piece for eight violas will always be a rarity, simply because the logistics of getting eight first-rate violists together to rehearse and perform it would take some doing. Mr. Neubauer was able to call upon his viola-playing colleagues to assemble a classy octet – including Cynthia Phelps, the NY Phil’s principal violist. Ida Kavafian and Daniel Phillips, more usually seen with their violins, took up violas to join in the fun tonight. Along with Mr. Neubauer, Hsin-Yun Huang, Richard O’Neill, Lawrence Dutton, and Pierre Lapointe formed a very impressive ensemble.

    This Suite for Eight Violas, composed in 1976, created quite a buzz. It opens with a unison “Russian” theme, the eight voices blended in song. The second movement, Scherzo and Drone, is a sprightly romp: a folk-dance with a sly finish. Sweet sadness prevails in the Chorale: Lento. Richard O’Neill then kicked off the closing Tarantella with swirling rushes of notes alternating with gentler interludes. A broad melody sweeps us thru to the end. The audience, clearly relishing the combined talents of these eight artists, sent up an enthusiastic ovation. 

    Following the interval, Paul Neubauer appeared alone onstage. 

    I love Joan Tower’s music, and I really enjoyed hearing tonight the two solo works she wrote expressly for Mr. Neubauer, the second of which was having its world premiere. Simply Purple is deceptively simple; a slowly rising scale, with a deep sense of mystery pervading, must be delivered with consummate control and subtle dynamic variants. The premiere, Purple Rush, is a scurrying downward swirl; it goes low and dusky, with cascades of notes and shimmering, slippery slides. Mr. Neubauer’s mastery held the audience throughout; and it was so nice to see Ms. Tower there, sharing the applause with the violist.

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    Stepping across the Plaza from The Met, where she has been appearing as Emilia in Verdi’s OTELLO, mezzo-soprano Jennifer Johnson Cano (above, in a Fay Fox photo) sang the two Brahms viola songs, the only music on the program that I was familiar with. A comely young woman with a voice to match, Ms. Cano’s warm, even tone and her natural feeling for the words – and for finding beautiful hues to express them – provided a most appealing rendering of these two familiar and beloved melodies. She formed an immediate rapport with Mr. Neubauer as they faced one another across their music stands; their blend of timbres was a pleasure to hear, and Mr. Bax, at the Steinway, continued to take a major role in the proceedings with his lustrous playing. May we have Ms. Cano back please – and soon! – perhaps for the Wesendonck Lieder?

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    Above: Alessio Bax, a superb pianist who played in six of the works on offer this evening

    A flash of Spanish light and colour is welcome on any concert program; tonight, Joaquín Turina’s Escena andaluza proved yet another notable discovery. An opening cascade from the piano becomes a caress. Ms. Kavafian and Mr. Phillips are back with their violins now, and together with Richard O’Neill (viola),  Paul Watkins (cello), and Mr. Bax at the piano they catch the music’s sensuous moodiness and underline Mr. Neubauer’s tonal affluence ideally. Outstanding playing from Romie de Guise-Langlois put the final flourish on this miniature Andalusian tone poem.

    A lilting and passionate violin solo (Ms. Kavafian) is answered by Mr. Watkins’ velvety cello; Mr. Bax’s keyboard shifts between the insinuating and the rhapsodic, and there’s a flurry of string instruments being plucked.

    Ms. Kavafian opens the second section of the Turina playing in the high range. The music glides from sly seduction to rising desire and on to a shimmering glow before the pianist – abetted by the clarinet – urges us to surrender to our passions.

    The same ensemble from the Turina remained onstage for Hermann Schulenberg’s Puszta-Märchen; they were already seated and raring to go. But where was Paul Neubauer? The ensemble struck up – a gypsy romance – and Mr. Neubauer stepped from the wings, already playing, and strolled down the steps and into the audience. He stopped next to me and my friend Claudia Schreier and – fixing me with an intense gaze – played a dusky, wine-drenched melody with great passion; I could actually feel the resonance of the music rising from the viola. He then locked eyes with Claudia and continued to play, totally by instinct. Momentarily he walked away, but then came back to us to continue his serenade. After a few moments he turned his attention to the usherette and played to her on intimate terms.

    Onstage, his colleagues were continuing to play while keeping one eye on the wandering minstrel. Suddenly they switched to a brilliant czardas; Mr. Neubauer returned to center-stage, playing on with virtuoso élan, and evoking swirling roulades from Romie’s clarinet. The music halted as all the players stomped their feet, and the audience burst into applause.

    Mr. Neubauer’s arrangement of Rumanian Canary, with its bird-song ‘cadenza’, was the concluding delight of the program. This led to a joyous standing ovation, and the players being called out twice.

    Being serenaded by Paul Neubauer is something I’ll always remember: an unexpected and charming episode in my life – a life that remains full of surprises. 

    The Repertory:

    The Participating Artists:

  • American Visions @ CMS

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    Above: baritone Randall Scarlata

    Tuesday May 19th, 2016 –  Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center offering a diverse program of ‘Americana’. On entering the auditorium at Alice Tully Hall tonight, we found the stage filled with a vast array of percussion instruments; these were set up in four “territories”, each to be managed by a specific musician in the program’s second half: a spectacular performance of a fascinating work by George Crumb. 

    In the midst of all the chimes, gongs, and other percussive paraphernalia, the sleek Steinway was parked. Pianist Michael Brown took the driver’s seat and set the evening on its way with Louis Moreau Gottschalk’s The Union, Concert Paraphrase on National Airs for Piano. Composed in 1862 by the wildly popular Gottschalk, this 9-minute fantasia weaves together arrangements of Hail Columbia, Yankee Doodle Dandy, and The Star-Spangled Banner. The work’s virtuoso demands were a stroll in the park for Mr. Brown, who simply rippled off the composer’s flourishing flights and furbelows with sprightly brilliance. This patriotic little gem sparkled on New York’s Primary Day.

    Mr. Brown returned immediately to perform Antonin Dvorak’s Sonatina in G-major with violinist Chad Hoopes. Written (swiftly) in New York City in 1893, this attractive piece was the composer’s opus 100, and he chose to mark that milestone by writing a work for his two children: Otilie (a 15-year-old pianist) and young Antonin (aged 10, and already a capable violinist); the sonatina was first performed at Dvorak’s home on East 17th Street, right here in Gotham.

    Mssrs. Hoopes and Brown found this Dvorak work most congenial; their performance was finely coordinated and together they gave us a savorable rendering of the folkish elements which are so typically Dvorakian. In the work’s four movements, both lyricism and dexterity are called for, and the two musicians polished off the music with style and flair.

    A group of songs by Charles Ives were then performed by baritoneRandall Scarlata and Gilbert Kalish. These two expert artists have worked together frequently and their rapport is a delight to witness. Randy Scarlata’s wide-ranging voice, his fluency of language, and his natural gift for making it seem like he is singing just to you have always given his performances a special appeal – starting back in his Juilliard days, when I first met him and we began a friendship that has been sustained over the years.

    The six Ives songs Randy programmed tonight showed the many felicities of his vocal and interpretive style, and Mr. Kalish was the ideal collaborator. The soft ending of “The Things Our Father’s Loved” was haunting; the ironic sense of triumph of “In Flanders Field” showed vocal expressiveness at its finest. A music hall feeling is evoked in the narrative “Charlie Rutlage” which covers many moods and at one point erupts in a huge tumult; “The Indians” veers from the dramatic to the pensive. A particularly masterful rendering of “The Housatonic at Stockbridge” opened with Mr. Kalish’s atmospheric piano introduction; the music is then taken up by Randy with finely-inflected phrasing and spine-tingling dynamic control. “The Circus Band”, a jolly tongue-in-cheek affair, calls for a baritone who is also an actor, and it ended the evening’s first half vividly.

    So lovely and pleasant to simply sit in the hall during the interval, watching the percussionists as they made sure everything was in place for the work about to be performed: George Crumb’s American Songbook II: A Journey Beyond Time.

    I can hardly begin to describe the effect of this ingenious and truly splendid work. The composer, with his ever-rich musical imagination, has taken some of the best-beloved spirituals and spun them into a sound tapestry that is nothing less than magical. The work calls for four top-flight percussionists, a pianist of consummate skill who is willing to extend his range beyond the keyboard, and a great communicator as vocal soloist. CMS brought together just such a remarkable ensemble tonight, and the result was both aurally dazzling and rich in spiritual reward.

    Each of the four percussion players – Christopher Froh, Ayano Kataoka, Eduardo Leandro, and Ian David Rosenbaum – had his or her own island kingdom of instruments to preside over. An open-topped piano awaited Gil Kalish, with a pair of small mallets and an odd conch-like horn set out for him: things most pianists have no use for. At the center of it all, Randy Scarlata, ready to pour his heart and soul into the eight timeslessly powerful songs that Mr. Crumb had arranged for this epic work.

    Otherworldly sounds transport us immediately; as the work progresses, the textures developed by the percussion orchestra will chill, delight, and fascinate us. The baritone voice emerges from this soundscape in the haunting melody of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” – Randy Scarlata at his expressive best. Mr. Kalish must reach into the piano to pluck the strings, and meanwhile the percussionists are setting up echo effects and rich reverberations. The chimes of midnight sound, uncanny deep resonances glow and fade, ghostly shimmers hang in the air. Randy’s control of finely-honed piano demi-tints gave me goosebumps as the ‘sweet chariot’ vanished into the mists.

    Bizarre rhythms and noisy cacophony signal ‘the walls come tumbling down’ in “Joshua Fit de Battle ob Jerico”; Mr. Kalish’s horn bleats desperately, Randy Scarlata’s voice rages and exhorts. Things fade away before a big bang of an ending. Tremendous!

    Soft chimes lend an air of mystery to Randy’s poignant singing of “Steal Away”. This is followed by the impulsive rhythms of “Rock My Soul” in which Randy sings, speaks, and whispers in turn. An instrumental interlude (“The pregnant earth : a Psalm for Noontide”) brings forth delicate effects. Here Mr. Kalish alternately plays and plucks the strings of the Steinway while the four percussionists seem to vie in a contest to see who can play most quietly. Kozmic softness!

    Marimba and rattles set the rhythmics of “Sit down, Sister!”, in which the pianist also has a say. Randy sings “I just got to heaven and I want to look around!”; the song then teases forward until he shouts “Sit down!” This is punctuated by a sonic boom.

    Soggy chimes make us think of weeping; “Nobody Knows the Trouble I See” laments, with Randy’s voice low and mournful. The stage lights inexplicably dimmed to darkness by mistake midway thru this song; the music halted but light was soon restored and the musicians picked up where they’d left off. Eerie echoes are heard.

    A deep growl…a thudding drum…a welter of gongs and chimes: “Let My people Go!” This is “Go Down, Moses”, robustly declaimed by Randy Scarlata, and it is big singing indeed. The music is ominous but fades to a long, reverberant end.

    Gongs and chimes, chirps, and the sound of tinkling broken glass create a halo of mystery around Randy’s plaintive singing of “Sometimes I feel like a Motherless Child”. After a last percussive power burst, Mr. Kalish brings forth some extremely delicate playing, and some eerie tapping. The singer turns to parlando with “Motherless children have a hard time…a long way from home”: eventually Randy hums wordlessly as the music fades sway into thin air.

    The audience seemed spellbound by the Crumb work; it is not easy music, but instead unsettling, thought-provoking, and richly rewarding in its own way. I was so grateful for this opportunity to experience it, and in such a thoroughly impressive and moving performance.

    The Repertory: 

    The Participating Artists:

  • Paul Taylor @ Lincoln Center 2016 – Part II

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    Above, one of the best of the best: Robert Kleinendorst of PTAMD

    Tuesday March 29th, 2016 – This evening’s performance by Paul Taylor’s American Modern Dance in the final week of their Lincoln Center season opened with a classic Taylor ‘white’ ballet, Equinox, set to music of Johannes Brahms which was performed (lovingly) live by a string quintet.

    Two principal couples – Laura Halzack with Robert Kleinendorst and Paris Khobdeh with Michael Apuzzo – perform some of Paul Taylor’s most inventive and pleasing partnering passages with a feeling of lyrical athleticism. A long solo by Ms. Halzack was enchanting to behold. A quartet of dancers – too stellar to be deemed “supporting” – moved with captivating urgency and grace: Michelle Fleet, Eran Bugge, Sean Mahoney, and James Samson. The white costumes evoke Summer, but the Brahms themes hint at the approach of Autumn. Heartfelt dancing and playing from everyone involved.

    The Weight of Smoke (a new Doug Elkins work) was a hot mess. The choreography is loaded with gimmicks and clichés while the fusion of Baroque (here, Handel) with contemporary club beats and noisy effects has been done before and has lost its cleverness. The dancers may have enjoyed the opportunity to cut loose, not having to think too much about technique or precision, but to me (and my choreographer-companion) the work seemed endlessly aimless and mildly embarrassing. Laced with gender-bending elements, with two women in a sustained kiss, and sashaying gay-boy stereotypes, the work ambled on with lots of energy being expended on retro-provocations. In the end, I was thinking: “You have sixteen of the best dancers on the planet to work with, and this is what you came up with?” 

    The evening ended on the highest of possible high notes with Paul Taylor’s Promethean Fire; the same sixteen dancers who slogged their way thru the tedious Elkins now appeared in Santo Loquasto’s incredible black costumes and treated us to a feast of impeccable dancing in this darkly dazzling ballet.

    Paul Taylor’s choreography here gives Mr B a run for his money in terms of musicality and structure…and it looks gorgeous on Mr. B’s own stage. The Leopold Stokowski orchestrations of music by J. S. Bach seem jarring at first but Mr. Taylor was right to choose them as they mesh well with the opulent energy of the dancing.

    The live music (Orchestra of Saint Luke’s under Donald York’s baton) was a wonderful enhancement to the onstage splendour; it’s a great piece for zeroing in on individual dancers as they move with such assurance and beauty of spirit thru choreography that must be a sheer delight to dance.

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    The central passage of Promethean Fire is a pas de deux which was danced tonight by Parisa Khobdeh and Michael Trusnovec (above). Their physical allure and their sense of the importance of the steps and port de bras made this such a richly rewarding experience, both visually and spiritually.

    Production photo © 2015 Paul Taylor’s American Modern Dance

  • Paul Taylor @ Lincoln Center 2016 – Part II

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    Above, one of the best of the best: Robert Kleinendorst of PTAMD

    Tuesday March 29th, 2016 – This evening’s performance by Paul Taylor’s American Modern Dance in the final week of their Lincoln Center season opened with a classic Taylor ‘white’ ballet, Equinox, set to music of Johannes Brahms which was performed (lovingly) live by a string quintet.

    Two principal couples – Laura Halzack with Robert Kleinendorst and Paris Khobdeh with Michael Apuzzo – perform some of Paul Taylor’s most inventive and pleasing partnering passages with a feeling of lyrical athleticism. A long solo by Ms. Halzack was enchanting to behold. A quartet of dancers – too stellar to be deemed “supporting” – moved with captivating urgency and grace: Michelle Fleet, Eran Bugge, Sean Mahoney, and James Samson. The white costumes evoke Summer, but the Brahms themes hint at the approach of Autumn. Heartfelt dancing and playing from everyone involved.

    The Weight of Smoke (a new Doug Elkins work) was a hot mess. The choreography is loaded with gimmicks and clichés while the fusion of Baroque (here, Handel) with contemporary club beats and noisy effects has been done before and has lost its cleverness. The dancers may have enjoyed the opportunity to cut loose, not having to think too much about technique or precision, but to me (and my choreographer-companion) the work seemed endlessly aimless and mildly embarrassing. Laced with gender-bending elements, with two women in a sustained kiss, and sashaying gay-boy stereotypes, the work ambled on with lots of energy being expended on retro-provocations. In the end, I was thinking: “You have sixteen of the best dancers on the planet to work with, and this is what you came up with?” 

    The evening ended on the highest of possible high notes with Paul Taylor’s Promethean Fire; the same sixteen dancers who slogged their way thru the tedious Elkins now appeared in Santo Loquasto’s incredible black costumes and treated us to a feast of impeccable dancing in this darkly dazzling ballet.

    Paul Taylor’s choreography here gives Mr B a run for his money in terms of musicality and structure…and it looks gorgeous on Mr. B’s own stage. The Leopold Stokowski orchestrations of music by J. S. Bach seem jarring at first but Mr. Taylor was right to choose them as they mesh well with the opulent energy of the dancing.

    The live music (Orchestra of Saint Luke’s under Donald York’s baton) was a wonderful enhancement to the onstage splendour; it’s a great piece for zeroing in on individual dancers as they move with such assurance and beauty of spirit thru choreography that must be a sheer delight to dance.

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    The central passage of Promethean Fire is a pas de deux which was danced tonight by Parisa Khobdeh and Michael Trusnovec (above). Their physical allure and their sense of the importance of the steps and port de bras made this such a richly rewarding experience, both visually and spiritually.

    Production photo © 2015 Paul Taylor’s American Modern Dance

  • Freiburg Baroque @ Alice Tully Hall

    Mozart

    Thursday February 25th, 2016 – This all-Mozart concert, performed by Freiburg Baroque at Alice Tully Hall tonight, was part of our Great Performers at Lincoln Center subscription series. Arias from the da Ponte/Mozart operas, the clarinet concerto, and the “Linz” symphony were scheduled. We were of course expecting the usual program order: the arias first, then the clarinet concerto, an intermission, and the symphony coming last. 

    Instead, in an attempt to re-create a type of concert popular in Mozart’s time, the movements of the symphony were played on the first half of the program, interspersed with arias. This may have seemed intriguing on paper, but in the event it lessened the effect of the symphony – which now seemed more like incidental music (great incidental music!) – while the arias seemed rather randomly chosen, two of them in fact being simply passages from ensembles.

    Given all this, and despite some very fine playing, the first half of the evening seemed a bit of a jumble. Gottfried von der Goltz, the ensemble’s principal violinist and director, had an ideally light touch, and he set propulsive tempi for the symphonic movements. He and the singer, Christian Gerhaher, formed a very simpatico bond: Mr. Gerhaher’s very confident stage-presence, wide-ranging voice, and winningly characterful interpretations were finely supported by conductor and ensemble. 

    Prior to playing the concerto, soloist Lorenzo Coppola introduced us to the clarinet d’amour – an unusual instrument that is longer than a standard clarinet and with a flared bell at the end. Once the concerto was underway, Mr. Coppola played with sure technique, exploring the instrument’s wide range with plenty of body language and almost comic accentuation of the lowest notes. His performance took on a more serious tone for the haunting Adagio, one of Mozart’s most sublime creations. For all Mr. Coppola’s skill and artistry, there were times when the instrument itself seemed in control.

    Mr. Gerharer then re-appeared for three of Mozart’s greatest arias for male voice: Leporello’s Catalogo, and one showpiece each from the opposing protagonists of NOZZE DI FIGARO: the valet’s “Non piu andrai” and Count Almaviva’s blazing “Hai gia vinto la causa!” In these three solos, Mr. Gerharer further displayed his impressive grasp of vocal characterization: in the Almaviva aria especially, he seemed to bring the drama most vividly to life.

    Between the two NOZZE arias, the orchestra chimed in with a brief Contredanse (K. 610) subtitled “Les filles malicieuses“, a brief charmer of a piece. Who were these “malicious girls” and what did Mozart want with them?  We’ll never know, any more than we’ll know whose cellphone went off at just the wrong moment tonight.

    The Participating Artists:

    Freiburg Baroque/Gottfried von der Goltz, violin and director

    Christian Gerhaher, baritone

    Lorenzo Coppola, clarinet d’amour

    The Repertory:

    Arias from Mozart’s Don Giovanni, Così fan tutte, and Le Nozze di Figaro

    Mozart: Clarinet Concerto

    Mozart: Symphony # 36 (“Linz”)

  • CMS Beethoven Cycle: The Danish!

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    Above: the Danish String Quartet, photo by Caroline Bitten

    Sunday February 21st, 2016 – Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s festival performances of the Beethoven string quartets drew to its close today with the Danish String Quartet playing the last music Beethoven ever wrote.

    This was my first encounter with The Danish. Their story is probably unique among music-making ensembles, for three of them met as kids and fellow foot-ballers: so they literally grew up together. This may account for their wonderfully integrated sound. Along the way, a Norwegian cellist joined the family, fitting in perfectly.

    This evening, as each voice was introduced to us at the start of the C-sharp minor quartet, I felt transfixed. I suddenly didn’t want to take notes, but rather to immerse myself in the music that was casting a spell over the wonderfully hushed, packed-to-the rafters Tully Hall.

    The C-sharp minor quartet evidently seemed incomprehensible when it was first heard publicly in 1835, after the composer had already passed away. Certainly a first glance at the Playbill listing strikes one as very odd: seven movements?  But Beethoven had been experimenting with structure over the years, and so she set this Opus 131 in seven sections, to be played without pause.

    Richard Wagner, reflecting on the first of these seven movements, said that it “reveals the most melancholy sentiment expressed in music”. Today it perhaps seems more pensive than sorrowful. The second movement, marked Allegro molto vivace, is lively and extroverted. Following a brief ensemble recitative, we come to the slow movement, so expressive of yearning and tenderness.

    In the Presto that follows – a whirlwind scherzo really – wit prevails in a lively, scurrying mode: here the Danes were at their most charming, and as this merry movement raced to its conclusion, the audience, thinking an end had been reached, were on the verge of unleashing a gust of applause. Then, with tongue-in-cheek irony, the players go on to a brooding Adagio and then a brilliant finale.

    Upon finishing, the members of the Danish String Quartet were engulfed in a flood of applause and cheers. They were called out three times, a rather unprecedented happening.

    During the intermission, I sat thinking about how – from my eleventh year until rather recently – so much of my musical focus has been on opera. Beethoven’s FIDELIO has never really attracted me – aside from Leonore’s glorious “Abscheulicher!” – and so the composer’s other works, iconic as they might be, have never really lured me. In fact, it’s only in the past three or four years – since I started attending Chamber Music Society and The New York Philharmonic regularly – that Beethoven’s music has begun to attract me. Better late than never!

    Earlier in this CMS Beethoven cycle, the Miró Quartet’s playing of the “Razumovsky” quartets was a revelation. Of the symphonies, I’m most enamored of the 4th at present…something other music-lovers will find odd, I’m sure. But: enough rambling. Back to the matter at hand!

    Of his final completed full work – the F-major quartet, Opus 135 – Beethoven reportedly stated that it was short because the commissioning fee was ‘short’; the sponsor would get what he paid for. And it was here, in the third movement marked Lento assai, cantante and tranquillo, that I found the Beethoven I’ve been searching for all these years – without knowing it. This music, which The Danish played so lovingly, really spoke to me. The entire piece, more traditional in both its structure and style than Opus 131, held the Tully audience in a state of rapt attentiveness: and the playing was marvelous throughout.

    The concert concluded with the last music Beethoven ever completed: a ‘Finale: Allegro‘ which would serve as an alternate ending for the B-flat major quartet Opus 130. Here the players of The Danish were at full sail, clearly savouring both the music and the audience’s delight in listening to them. 

    The triple curtain call after Opus 131 was not a fluke, for the four blonde members of the Danish String Quartet reaped a full-house standing ovation at the close of this grand evening.

    As so often happens nowadays, this great music – and the Quartet’s playing of it – turned gloomy thoughts of a world full of strife and woe into an optimistic notion that there’s still hope for humanity. 

    Meet The Danish String Quartet here.

    The Artists:

    Violin: Frederik Øland and Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen

    Viola: Asbjørn Nørgaard

    Cello: Fredrik Schøyen Sjölin

    The Repertory: