Tag: Sunday February

Three Masterpieces @ Chamber Music Society

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday February 26th, 2025 – A packed house at Alice Tully Hall for this evening’s concert of works by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven presented by Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. For me, it was a revelatory experience since I was hearing – for the first time – the Viano Quartet. Founded in 2015, the group soared to prominence after winning first prize at the 2019 Banff International String Quartet Competition.

Above, the artists of the Viano Quartet: Tate Zawadiuk, Aiden Kane, Lucy Wang, and Hao Zhou. They opened this evening’s program with Haydn’s Quartet in F-major. Op. 77, No. 2, which dates from 1799. This was the last quartet the composer wrote.

The opening Allegro moderato has a gracious start; this is music that’s full of charm. It speeds up, with delightful swift passages alternating with more lyrical ones. Each voice of the Viano Quartet has its say, and each is distinctive; but the magic is in the way they are blended. An excursion into minor mode brings new emotional responses before resuming the opening mood; the movement finds a brisk finish.

The Menuetto, placed second, has a swift, witty start. Mood swings between major and minor are gorgeously negotiated by the players, whilst ironic pauses and cunning rhythmic figurations are added delights. An interlude, filled with sweet harmonies, leads on – with more clever hesitations – to a sudden finish: all so deftly played..

The Andante opens with violinist Hao Zhou and cellist Tate Zawadiuk engaged in a courtly duo; they are such wonderfully attentive and expressive artists, as pleasing to watch as to hear. The other voices join, with Mr. Zhou and Ms. Wang offering harmonized violin passages. The playing from all is detailed, but never fussy. Hao Zhou plays a decorative theme over a melodious blend from Mlles. Wang and Kane (the quartet’s excellent violist) and Mr. Zawadiuk; the latter then takes up the melody, sounding supremely lovely. Zhou then plays an exquisite ‘accompanied’ cadenza, bringing the Andante to a serene finish.

An emphatic chord kicks off the scampering Vivace assai; Zhou’s virtuosity here is so impressive, inspiring vivid animation from his colleagues. A whimsical section – like a rhythmic game – leads on to the uninhibited finale of what was destined to be Haydn’s last completed quartet. Simply terrific music-making from the Viano players, who were called back for a second bow; in the 25-minute span of the Haydn, they had soared into my upper echelon of favorite quartets.

Maintaining their high standards, the Viano Quartet then offered magnificent Mozart: the Quintet in E-flat major, K. 614, was the Master’s final chamber work, composed in April 1791, the year of his death.

Joining the quartet, one of the Society’s best-loved artists, Arnaud Sussmann, brought his viola into the scheme of things; for the program’s concluding Beethoven, he would return in his more customary role as violinist.

Mozart commences his quintet with an Allegro di molto, launched by the two violas; Mr. Sussmann and Ms. Kane immediately formed a most congenial duo, communicating artfully, and harmonizing to perfection. As this indescribably delicious movement continued, Hao Zhou displayed his silken tone and impeccable technique to striking effect.

The Andante has a prim and proper start; a theme with four variations ensues. Mr. Zawadiuk’s cello playing is particularly fine here, his tone the basis for alluring harmonies; Ms. Kane’s likewise has a special glow. The music’s enticing little pauses tempt the imagination.

The Menuetto breezes along, with repetitive descending phrases lending a playful air. A waltz-like passage ensues, with Mssrs. Sussmann and Zawadiuk setting the pace and communicating amiably.

Mozart’s finale feels like an hommage to Haydn. It has a sprightly start, and offers some perfect opportunities to savour Hao Zhou’s sweet and subtle tone. With playful pauses along the way, this Allegro leaves us pondering – as so often – what wonders Mozart might have wrought had he lived as long as Haydn did.

Following the interval, Mr. Sussmann joined cellist Paul Watkins and pianist Gilles Vonsattel for a perfect rendering of Beethoven next-to-last trio: his Opus 70, No, 2. The piece has a poignant start, with cello, violin, and piano introduced in turn. The timbres of the Sussmann violin and the Watkins cello compliment one another ideally in a duetting flow and in phrases passed back and forth. Meanwhile, from the Steinway, Mr. Vonsattel’s shimmering sounds provide a luminous contrast to the blendings of the strings. The movement has a curious finish.

With the second movement, an Allegretto, Beethoven seems to honor both Mozart and Haydn; it opens with a rather sentimental melody; then animated string passages waft over a tinkling piano accompaniment. Amusing as this was, it went on a bit longer than my interest span could sustain; yet the playing was pristine.

Another Allegretto opens with Mr. Sussmann in a violin melody played over lulling piano motifs; the Watkins cello joins the blend as sheer beauty prevails. The music gets quite quiet.

The finale gets off to a fun start with all three musicians on top form, Mr. Vonsattel especially impressive in the music Beethoven has given him; for here, after the strings have been slightly dominant in the first three movements, the piano part offers us stunning passages in which to savour the virtuosity and grandeur of the Vonsattel artistry.

As sometimes happens to me, even in the music of the greatest masters, a sense of detours and culs-de-sacs began to creep in. An ending seems to loom, only to recede as the music soldiers on.

But it was all so wonderfully played, as – in fact – was the entire program.

~ Oberon

January 26, 2025
Saint-Saëns and Fauré @ CMS

Above: Anthony McGill, photo by Todd Rosenberg

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday February 25th, 2024 – Music by two of France’s most beloved composers – Camille Saint-Saëns and Gabriel Fauré – was on offer this evening at Alice Tully Hall. Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center once again assembled a stellar group of musicians, assuring a thoroughly enjoyable concert experience.

Gabriel Fauré’s Dolly Suite for Piano, Four-Hands, composed between 1894 and 1896, made for a charming start to the program. Pianists Anne-Maria McDermott and Gloria Chien gave a splendid performance of the work, which derives its name from an affectionate nickname for Helene Bardac, the young daughter of Fauré’s long-time mistress, Emma Bardac. Fauré composed these gem-like miniatures between 1893 and 1896, to mark Helene’s birthdays and other events in her young life.

The suite’s movements are:

Berceuse (a lullabye), honoring Helene’s first birthday (Allegretto moderato).

Mi-a-ou, which gently mocks Helene’s attempts to pronounce the name of her elder brother Raoul, who later became a pupil of Fauré’s.

Le Jardin de Dolly (Andantino); this was composed as a present for New Year’s Day, 1895. It contains a quotation from Fauré’s first violin sonata, composed 20 years earlier.

Kitty-valse: this is not about a cat, but rather about the Bardacs’ pet dog, named Ketty.

Tendresse, an andante, was written in 1896 and presages the composer’s beloved Nocturnes.

Le pas espagnol (Allegro) denotes a lively Spanish dance tune which brings the suite to its close.

Tonight, Ms. Chien was in charge of the lower octaves, and Ms. McDermott of the upper. They seemed to be truly enjoying playing this music, which veers from rambunctious to elegant. At the end, they embraced, and then basked in the audience’s warm applause.

It’s always a delight to hear Anthony McGill, Principal Clarinet of The New York Philharmonic, and this evening he regaled us with his sumptuous playing of Camille Saint-Saëns’ Sonata in E-flat major, Op. 167, dating from 1921…one of the composer’s last works. With Ms. Chien at the Steinway, the music simply glowed, from first note to last.

The opening Allegretto has a subdued start, but passion lurks beneath the surface. Mr. McGill was soon astounding us with his mastery of dynamics and his fluent coloratura. His pianissimi must be experienced to be believed: such control! Infinite beauty of tone is a McGill trademark, reaching our souls like a blessing from above. The movement has a poetic finish.

From a sprightly start, the Allegro animato finds the two players in perfect simpatico mode. Enchanting subtleties from both musicans continually cast a spell over the Hall. Ms. Chien opened the Lento with a deep, somber melody. She then commences a soft heartbeat motif, with Mr. McGill’s clarinet singing a forlorn melody. A wistful ‘ending’ is reached, but there’s a lovely piano postlude to follow.

Rapid keyboard figurations open the concluding Molto allegro, wherein the virtuosity of both players delights us: rapid scales and sparkling cascades of notes are crystal clear. Then M. Saint-Saëns makes a surprising mood-swing: there is a gorgeous fade-away, from which a lovely melody arises. Mr. McGill’s final pianissimo note, sustained to spine-tinlging effect, was simply uncanny.

I cannot recall ever having heard Fauré’s La Bonne Chanson performed live before. When this concert was first announced, Sasha Cooke was listed as the soloist; but in the event, it was the radiant young Chinese soprano Meigui Zhang (photo above) who sang the Fauré for us…exquisitely.

It’s been nearly a year since I first heard Ms. Zhang: in John Luther Adams’ Vespers of the Blessed Earth, on a memorable evening at Carnegie Hall, which you can read about here. For the Fauré songs tonight, she joined an ensemble of outstanding musicians: violinists Arnaud Sussmann and Paul Huang, violist Matthew Lipman, the NY Phil’s primo basso Timothy Cobb, and Ms. Chien at the piano.

The nine songs are settings of nine poems by Paul Verlaine, which the poet wrote as a wedding gift to his wife. (Ironically, Verlaine had also had an affair with Emma Bardac, mistress of Fauré.)

The songs explore many moods, by turns restless, idyllic, passionate, and pensive. The pretty, lyrical quality of Ms. Zhang’s voice is ideally suited to these songs. Particularly impressive were “J’allais par les chemins perfides” where the singer’s silken tone sounded especially lovely among the rich string mix; the urgent ecstasy of “Avant que tu ne t’en ailles“; the meltingly soft allure of her tone in “Donc, ce sera par un clair j:our d’été” with its beautifully sustained final note; and the sweet rapture of her “L’hiver a cessé“. Surely Ms. Zhang gained many new admirers this evening.

In these songs, the piano and strings provide a sonic tapestry into which the voice is woven to magical effect. Ms. Chien’s playing was a constant source of pleasure, and Arnaud Sussmann’s tone shimmered on high, seconded by Paul Huang. The deeper voices gave plushness to the ensemble: Matthew Lipman (viola) and David Requiro (cello) have much to do – they were particularly fine in “N’est-ce pas?” The composer might have given more to the bass, but Mr. Cobb made the most of each opportunity.

Following the interval, a glorious rendering of Camille Saint-Saëns’ 1875 Quartet in B-flat major brought together Ms. McDermott, and Mssrs. Huang, Lipman, and Requiro. Ms. McDermott commences the opening Allegretto, with the trio of strings joining in a unison passage. The blending of the four voices is most cordial, with the pianist’s seamless phrasing and the intriguing timbres of the three string players. I hadn’t heard Paul Huang for a while, and it was simply great to hear his distinctive sound again, as he sailed thru an ascending/decending solo motif. The Allegretto has a terrific ending.

Ms. McDermott emphatically attacks the opening bars of the Andante maestoso; the strings again join in unison, and the music has a vaguely Russian feel. There’s a slow piano theme, with the strings etching in comments along the way. Things then turn fast and furious, Ms. McDermott commanding the keyboard and the strings slashing away. Turbulence!

Mr. Lipman and Ms. McDemott launch the delightful Poco allegro, which charmed my companion and me with its Mendelssohnian flavor. There are major/minor shifts which lead to a Paul Huang cadenza, passionately played and with a ravishing trill. The music races lightly forward to a deliciously subtle finish.

The concluding Allegro starts briskly, the piano leading the way. The strings play in unison or pass phrases to one another. There’s an underlying restlessness that calms to a series of soft pizzicati. A slow build-up of tension gives way to a luxuriant sense of peace before a rising passage brings this splendid piece to its end. The musicians enjoyed a standing ovation; with our spirits lifted, we headed out into the freezing winter night.

~ Oberon

February 25, 2024
A New LOHENGRIN @ The Met

Above: Piotr Beczala and Tamara Wilson in LOHENGRIN at The Met

Author: Oberon

Sunday February 26th, 2023 matinee – The premiere of a new production of Wagner’s LOHENGRIN at The Met; this marks the fourth production of this magnificent opera that I have experienced at The Met. My first encounter with the opera was in Wieland Wagner’s production in 1967 – a performance that featured the Met debut of the marvelous soprano Elisabeth Grümmer. In 1976, August Everding’s production – with designs by the great Ming Cho Lee – was first given; I saw it several times, with incredible singers like Rene Kollo, Placido Domingo, Pilar Lorengar, Mignon Dunn, Anna Tomowa-Sintow, Eva Marton, and Leonie Rysanek in the leading roles.

In 1998, Ben Heppner and Deborah Voigt headlined the cast of Robert Wilson’s fascinating, stylized production; Karita Mattila and Rene Pape later sang Elsa and King Henry respectively in this production, and two very sharply contrasted but equally exciting tenors made their Met debuts in the title-role of the Wilson production: Johan Botha and Klaus Florian Vogt.

This afternoon, director François Girard followed up his fascinating Met debut production of PARSIFAL with a LOHENGRIN that follows Parsifal’s son to the banks of the River Scheldt to protect the virtuous Elsa. With stunning sets by Tim Yip, this afternoon’s performance gathered together a strong cast whose hard work was sometimes nullified by Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s brassy conducting.

In a large underground bunker in the ruins of a haunted castle near Antwerp, we find the people of Brabant huddled among the tree roots. Aside from the threat of the invading Hungarian forces, they are a community struggling with the disappearance of young Gottfried, whose sister Elsa is alleged to have killed the boy. In opposition to Elsa are Count Telramund and his sorceress-wife, Ortrud. The divided populace all wear black hooded cloaks which we soon find have colour-coded linings: green for the good guys, red for the baddies, and white for supporters of Elsa, who is either a murderess or a blameless virgin/victim. Throughout the opera, the populace open their capes to show where their loyalties lie; this unison ‘flashing’ gesture grew tiresome – even hilarious – over time.

Joining the large Met chorus – who sang splendidly all afternoon – were a group of dance artists who performed in-sync stylized movements; among them, my beautiful friend Willy Laury brought his own personal magnetism to every gesture.

LOHENGRIN is a big sing for the six principal artists; they need a very thoughtful and alert conductor at the helm to make the most of their magnificent music. But today, the singers were frequently jinxed by the blasts of sound coming up from the pit. In those climactic passages where the voices need cushioning support, the singers instead found themselves having to force their tone in order to stay afloat. This trend of ramping up the orchestral volume has been in frequent evidence this season where conductors like Armiliato, Rizzi, and Scapucci have sometimes seemed to have been on a joyride, using decibels to make the music more superficially “exciting”. In a Wagner opera, the balance between voices and orchestra is even more crucial; Nézet-Séguin should have learned this by now.

Despite this imbalance, the orchestra played gorgeously, most especially in Elsa’s Procession to the Cathedral in Act II, where the featured wind soloists were especially lovely to hear. The prelude to Act III – where the orchestra has the music all to itself – was suitably grand; the director used this music for a solo pantomime for Christine Goerke’s vividly over-the-top (in a good way) Ortrud.

Brian Mulligan’s noble, calming presence and expressive face, aligned to his warm and attractive voice, made the role of the Herald more prominent than is often the case. In this production, the character is not just an ‘announcer’ but also a confidante of the king. Mr. Mulligan was first-rate, despite having to cope with the onslaughts from the pit at times.

Günther Groissböck’s dignified King Henry was an excellent portrait of a leader who has come to this land with a purpose, only to find himself playing judge and jury in a local conflict. Mr. Groissböck is not a helden-basso, possessed, as he is, of a handsome lyrical timbre of ample power for this music…under normal circumstances. The brassy blasts arising from the pit did him no favors, but he held to his own, with much impressive vocalism.

Yevgeny Nikitin as the sinister Telramund managed to out-shout the orchestra in a couple of spots, but it should not have been necessary; beyond that, he offered many creepily subtle passages. Sparks flew in his scene with Ortrud at the start of Act II, which was one of the highlights of the afternoon…in part because the orchestra playing here was thoroughly supportive. Later in the act, as the wedding procession began to move onward, Nikitin’s Telramund stepped out of the crowd and menaced Elsa to striking effect.

Having seen several marvelous Elsas in my day – in addition to those named above, there were Sabine Hass and Arlene Saunders – this afternoon I was happy to add Tamara Wilson to the list. This soprano, whose Met debut as Aida in 2014 was superb, should be singing here far more frequently. She has a house-filling sound, grounded in lyricism, with an appealing vulnerable streak to her timbre, and high notes that can soar or float at will. Her ‘dream’ aria in Act I and her Song to the Breezes in Act II were vocal highlights of the afternoon, and in her Act II confrontation with Ortrud, Ms. Wilson and Christine Goerke made sparks fly. Ms. Goerke first backed her victim all the way across the stage, taunting the would-be bride menacingly. But Ms. Wilson summoned Elsa’s courage, and turned the tables: soon it was Goerke who was retreating as Wilson advanced. The agitated strings that provide the undercurrent for this encounter gave perfect support. Tamara Wilson went on to sing thrillingly in the bridal chamber scene, and she was given a spirited ovation at her bows.

You’ve got to love Christine Goerke’s Ortrud. Although in recent seasons her top register has become unreliable, the sheer force of her personality and the inherent power of her singing can work wonders. In the span of a few weeks, she has given us an incredibly touching Madame Lidoine in DIALOGUES DES CARMELITES and has now turned in an epic Ortrud, suitably grand-scale theatrically, and vocally firing on all cylinders, despite the random stray note.

In this production, Ortrud appears during the prelude: a silent and imposing figure with red hair, clad all in blood-red and gold. The character has little to sing in Act I, but Goerke made Act II all about Ortrud. First comes the tremendous duet with Telramund, in which the Goerke voice simply dripped with evil intent and conniving insinuation; this is followed soon enough by her deceitful, servile plea to Elsa to grant her amnesty. Waiting for Elsa to descend from her balcony, Goerke launches Ortrud’s diabolical invocation to the pagan gods. Sung with blistering passion and commitment, Goerke made a meal out of it, sustaining the climatic passage with fierce intensity. In the ensuing duet, Ortrud eventually wins Elsa over, and they harmonize in an almost bel canto passage, leaving the orchestra to take up the gorgeous melody (my favorite part of the entire score) as they enter the castle. In the later confrontation between the two women before the wedding ceremony, mentioned above, Goerke showed off some chesty resonances.

Ms. Goerke entered spiritedly into M. Girard’s somewhat hokey mime scene for Ortrud at the start of Act III: preening herself whilst casting spells to destroy the marriage of Elsa and Lohengrin, Goerke seemed larger than life.

Enjoying a huge and well-deserved triumph, the Polish tenor Piotr Beczala was everything you want in a Lohengrin, and more. As if arriving out of a time warp, the character is clad in contemporary style: white shirt and black trousers. From note one, Mr. Beczala’s expressive singing seemed made for role of the mysterious visitor. Hauntingly lyrical, with refined piano turns of phrase woven in, he put me in mind of Nicolai Gedda’s only Wagnerian excursion. Every word and note seemed to mean something to the tenor, and his handsome presence made him as appealing to watch as to hear. Especially pleasing was his singing in the bridal chamber scene, blending timbres luminously with Ms. Wilson. Mr. Beczala then rose beautifully to the demands of the opera’s finale, where “In fernem land” and the poignant tenderness of “Mein lieber Schwan!” were so beautifully voiced. It was a thrill to hear (and to be part of) the massive wave of applause and cheers that greeted the tenor’s solo bow.

As the ovation continued, there were boos for the production team; this was understandable – even inevitable – I suppose, yet overall it was an inoffensive and at times engaging take on the opera.

Watch the final ovation and curtain calls here.

~ Oberon

February 26, 2023
Farewells: Gonzalo Garcia

Above: Gonzalo Garcia in George Balanchine’s immortal APOLLO

Sunday February 27th, 2022 matinee – Gonzalo Garcia, one of the handsomest men ever to grace the ballet stages of the world, bade farewell to the New York City Ballet this afternoon.

Gonzalo, a native of Zaragoza, Spain, won the Prix de Lausanne in 1995 at the age of 15 – the youngest dancer to win that coveted prize. He joined San Francisco Ballet in 1998 at the age of 18, and at 22 he became a principal dancer there.

In 2007, Gonzalo made a great leap from one coast to the other, leaving San Francisco Ballet to join New York City Ballet. Since then, he has performed many roles for us here; among them, I have especially loved his Apollo, Oberon in MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, the Princes in the Peter Martins productions of SWAN LAKE and SLEEPING BEAUTY, Franz in COPPELIA, the principal male roles in BALLO DELLA REGINA, RUBIES, and BAISER DE LA FEE, the leads in Jerome Robbins’ OPUS 19/THE DREAMER, DANCES AT A GATHERING, and GLASS PIECES, in Christopher Wheeldon’s POLYPHONIA and LES CARILLONS, and Alexei Ratmansky’s CONCERTO DSCH. Most recently, I greatly enjoyed seeing Gonzalo in Justin Peck’s ROTUNDA, an excerpt from which he danced at his farewell gala.

Some wonderful Gonzalo Garcia partnerships:

Above: Gonzalo Garcia and Ana Sophia Scheller in SLEEPING BEAUTY; photo by Paul Kolnik

Above: Gonzalo with Sterling Hyltin in RUBIES; photo by Paul Kolnik

Above: Gonzalo with Tiler Peck in OTHER DANCES; photo by Erin Baiano

Above: with Megan Fairchild in NUTCRACKER

When time has allowed, Gonzalo has danced as a guest artist:

…in STARS AND STRIPES at a gala in Italy…

…and, in Madrid, as Albrecht in GISELLE

Closer to home: dancing with MORPHOSES in Central Park 2009; photo by Kokyat

And in this charming film, Gonzalo shows us how he kept in shape at home during the pandemic.

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For his farewell performance at New York City Ballet, Gonzalo danced works by Balanchine, Robbins, and Justin Peck. The program was book-ended by ballets set to two of Sergei Prokofiev’s most fascinating scores: the Violin Sonata #1 in D-major sets the stage for my favorite Jerome Robbins ballet – OPUS 19/THE DREAMER – and PRODIGAL SON, which marked the only time George Balanchine used Prokofiev’s music. In between, a studio film of Gonzalo working on a solo from Justin Peck’s ROTUNDA (to a fine Nico Muhly score) was followed by a live performance of part of the ballet, with its cast of twelve. Andrews Sill was on the podium, and Kurt Nikkanen’s playing of the violin concerto was simply spectacular. How meaningful it was today to hear the scores of Prokofiev, a son of the Ukraine.

During the interval, I loved running into Carlos Lopez, Charles Askegard, David Fernandez, and Wendy Whelan.

Gonzalo was alone onstage as the curtain rose on OPUS 19, and the audience greeted him with a warm round of applause. His opening solo as the restless dreamer was hypnotically beautiful…his arms and hands are so expressive. For this occasion, two ballerinas took turns dancing with Gonzalo: first, Sterling Hyltin skimmed about the space with an airy lightness before their sublime pas de deux. Tiler Peck then appeared for the allegro passages, and then Sterling returned; it was Tiler who ended the ballet, resting her head on Gonzalo’s palm. The corps danced splendidly, and the three principals exchanged embraces of mutual affection during the curtain calls.

The filmed excerpt from ROTUNDA gave us an up-close view of the danseur at work, whilst the soundtrack included accolades from Gonzalo’s colleagues and his own words about what it means to be a dancer. The live performance went brilliantly, Gonzalo sharing some moments with another of his frequent partners, the spirited Megan Fairchild. The ballet ends with Gonzalo rushing forward into a sudden blackout.

The distinctive setting for PRODIGAL SON was created in 1929 by painter Georges Rouault. This poignant ballet tells of a young man who leaves his home and his gentle family to find excitement in the wide world; seduced, beaten, and abandoned, he returns home in shame and abject misery only to be enfolded in his father’s loving arms. Gonzalo, looking youthfully handsome, danced the role with the verve and commitment of a spirited teenager. His degradation and downfall were poignantly portrayed, and the moment where he creeps into his father’s forgiving embrace was extraordinarily moving.

Sara Mearns was the deceitful Siren. Harrison Coll and Lars Nelson excelled in their dancing “duel”, and Mary Elizabeth Sell and Jenelle Manzi were lovely as the sisters. Arron Sanz made a profound impression as the father.

The gala ended with a massive ovation which Gonzalo accepted with humility and great joy, pounding his heart with his hand to express his love for us. His colleagues came out one by one, presenting flowers and hugs: they all seemed genuinely sincere. Then Gonzalo’s husband came out, and they shared a kiss, to the audience’s great delight. And so, Gonzalo finished his dancing career while still at peak form, truly one of the finest – and best-loved – dancers I’ve had the pleasure to watch.

~ Oberon

February 26, 2022
Philharmonic Ensembles: Bach/Debussy/Fauré

Above: violinist Kuan Cheng Lu of The New York Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday February 17th, 2019 – Artists of The New York Philharmonic performing works by Bach, Debussy, and Fauré at Merkin Hall. This was originally going to be an all-French program, but somewhere along the way, Arthur Honegger’s Sonatine for Violin and Cello – which I was very curious to hear – turned into Bach’s Trio Sonata in C-major, BWV 529.

The switch soon became irrelevant, as the Bach was vividly performed by Kuan Cheng Lu (violin), Robert Rhinehart (viola), and David J. Grossman (bass). The opening Allegro was dynamically played, with some sustained bass notes giving the music an anchor. To the rather forlorn Largo, Kuan Cheng Lu brought lovely subtleties of phrase; this movement – without a formal ending – leads immediately into the lively concluding Allegro.

Claude Debussy’s Piano Trio followed, with guest artist Hélène Jeanney (above) at the Steinway; violinist Kuan Cheng Lu (the only artist to appear twice this afternoon) and cellist Qiang Tu joined her for this work, which was composed during the Summer of 1880 in Fiesole, Italy, when Debussy was 18 years old. At the time, he was the musical traveling companion and maître de musique of Nadezhda von Meck, Tchaikovsky’s generous patroness. Most of the autograph material for this trio was thought to have been lost, and was only discovered a century later, in 1982, among the papers of Debussy’s pupil Maurice Dumesnil.

If we were to hear this music without knowing who wrote it, we’d never guess it’s by Debussy; the young composer had yet to find his own voice. This trio is entertaining salon music, which might be mistaken for Bizet or Delibes. For all that, just hearing it gives a lot of pleasure – especially when played as beautifully as it was today.

Ms. Jeanney’s playing gives the music a Springtime freshness; the opening Andantino con molto allegro will later turn moody, even passionate. But overall, loveliness prevails. A song-like melody from Mr. Tu’s cello is taken up in turn by Mr. Lu’s violin: both these artists display smooth, savourable tone. Things turn rhapsodic, and the pianist’s expressive playing carries us along.

The ensuing Scherzo opens with pizzicati from the strings and the piano playing a dancing tune that evoked fanciful marionettes with its wit and sense of irony. Charm is abundant here. Then on to the Andante espressivo, where the cellist again inaugurates a theme that is passed on to the violin. Ms. Jeanney’s playing is so delightful here, full of grace and colour. The blend of the three players becomes quite intense as the music builds, only to recede into another violin passage. The movement ends in a blissful state.

The final Appassionato commences in a minor-key, agitated state. Things calm to a passage of melodious strings and rippling piano. An interlude of cello pizzicati followed by a jaunty passage lead on to fair finish; the musicians were robustly applauded by the packed house.

Following the interval, Gabriel Fauré’s Piano Quartet in G-minor brought forth another excellent pianist: Banjamin Hochman (above). He was joined by Quan Ge (violin), Dorian Rence (viola), and Ru-Pei Yeh (cello).

The first movement, Allegro molto moderato, has a sense of urgency. It begins passionately, almost grandly; a unison melody for the strings is offset by the turbulent piano. Ms. Rence’s autumn-hued viola takes up a sustained melody that is passed on to Ms. Ge’s violin; the piano continues to provide restless undercurrents. Ru-Pei Yeh’s beauteous cello sound blends with Ms. Rence’s viola, then Ms. Ge’s violin sings a silken theme over the shimmering piano. The music turns rapturous.

The Scherzo features animated passages for the piano; the strings are plucked before moving on to a unison passage. The pianist alternates strong accents with flowing scales. For the Adagio non troppo, Fauré found inspiration in his memory of hearing distant church bells during his childhood. The music has the feel of a luxuriant daydream, the viola playing a pensive melody. The blending of the four instruments here was deeply affecting.

The closing Allegro molto again finds the piano in a rather agitated state as the strings play a deep, swaying theme. Various flickers of melody gleam and swirl about from player to player, the viola and cello in a darkish mood.

At the end, the audience saluted the players with well-deserved cheers. We met Ms. Jeanney briefly, and are keen now to hear her in recital.

~ Oberon

February 17, 2019
American Symphony Orchestra Presents ‘Hollow Victory’

Above: composer Mieczysław Weinberg

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Sunday February 29th, 2018 – Leon Botstein and his American Symphony Orchestra always present interesting programming of rarely-performed works. On January 28th, the theme was “Jews in Soviet Russia after the World War” and was perhaps one of their finest concerts. Presented were three works by two composers: first half was dedicated to Mieczysław Weinberg and second half to Vieniamin Fleishman. Both men were close friends with Dmitri Shostakovich, whose influence can be heard in their works.

Mieczysław Weinberg is perhaps the better-known of the two. Born in 1919 in Warsaw, Poland into an artistic family (his father was a conductor and composer of the Yiddish theater and his Ukrainian-born mother was an actress.) During the war his parents and younger sister were interned in the Lodz ghetto and died in the Trawnicki concentration camp. After the war, in the Soviet Union where he settled, Weinberg was arrested by the KGB in 1953. Shostakovich’s personal appeal to Lavrenti Beria – and Stalin’s death soon thereafter – saved Weinberg’s life. Weinberg’s vast musical output includes 22 symphonies, 17 string quartets, 9 violin sonatas, 7 operas, 40 film and animation scores (including for the Palm d’Or-winning film “The Cranes are Flying.”)

Leon Botstein began the concert with Weinberg’s “Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes,” composed in 1949. An ancient state – forced to be one of the Soviet Union’s republics between 1940 and 1991 – Moldavia’s culture is closely related to Romania’s and it’s folk melodies sometimes will bring to mind folk melodies Brahms and Dvořák used in their famous collection of dances. Weinberg’s Rhapsody begins with a drive from the low strings and then an oboe introduces the first mournful theme. The Rhapsody moves easily between the mournful and infectious dance tunes, alternating soaring full string section and solos for individual instruments. There is a definite Klezmer dance tune near the end, which brings the work to an exciting close.

Weinberg’s substantial Symphony No. 5, composed in 1962, without a doubt takes inspiration from Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4, which though it was premiered in 1961 was composed 25 years earlier, and Weinberg and Shostakovich used to play a two piano arrangement of it for friends long before the premiere. The work opens with a slow “siren,” two repeated notes, from the violins. This motif returns over and over throughout the symphony like a wail of doom, sometimes picked up by other instruments. There are sudden interruptions from the timpani, bringing to mind Mahler’s 6th Symphony. There are beautiful and beautifully-played solos for various instruments, most notably the flute (Yevgeny Faniuk is listed as principal flautist) and horn (Zohar Schondorf)). The Symphony ends with a hushed march, growling trombones and a mysterious celesta.

Veniamin Fleischman was born in 1913 and entered the Leningrad Conservatory in 1939. His teacher, Shostakovich, called Fleishman his favorite student. While a student, on Shostakovich’s suggestion, Fleishman began composing the opera “Rothschild’s Violin,” from a short story by Chekhov. (Fleishman wrote his own libretto.) When the Nazis invaded the USSR in the summer of 1941 Fleishman enlisted in the Red Army and was killed on September 14 near Leningrad. Shostakovich went to great lengths to retrieve Fleishman’s manuscript of the opera. He completed and orchestrated the work in 1943-44, and later went to great lengths to have it performed, though without much success. Its sympathetic portrayal of Jewish people no doubt did not fit comfortably with the Soviet regime. There was one concert performance in Moscow in 1960 and a staged performance did not take place until 1968. Shostakovich wrote in his memoirs: “It’s a marvelous opera – sensitive and sad. There are no cheap effects in it; it is wise and very Chekhovian. I’m sorry that theatres pass over Fleishman’s opera. It’s certainly not the fault of the music, as far as I can see.”

The main character, a Christian coffin maker Yakov Ivanov, undergoes a spiritual crises and something of an awakening. After Yakov’s wife Marfa informs him that she is dying, they both reminisce about their dead child, and Yakov realizes he will have to build his own wife’s coffin. “Life is all loss, only death is gain,” he says. Though Yakov quarrels with Rothschild, the young flautist in the local Jewish orchestra, at the end he leaves Rothschild his most prized possession: the violin, which Rothschild begins to play as the opera ends.

“Rothschild’s Violin” is a magnificent opera. Fleishman, editing Chekov’s story, brilliantly removed all secondary characters and stories, keeping only the story of the coffin-maker. We know nothing even about the young Jew to whom Yakov leaves his violin; nor about Yakov’s wife Marfa, who is dying. This is a story of one man, there are no loungers or pauses in the narrative. It moves quickly through monologues and dialogues, only pausing for Yakov’s final apotheosis where he comes to understand his life and losses. Though the characters, especially Marfa, feel sorry for themselves, there is no sentimentality or cheap dramatic effects. The simplicity of it is what gives the work so much power.

The quartet of singers assembled for the opera was perfect. Bass Mikhail Svetlov (above) was a deeply moving and beautifully sung Yakov. The only native Russian speaker in the cast, he projected the text and all its nuances in a way few can. His is a big, rich voice, with an easy top.

Mezzo-soprano Jennifer Roderer (above) was a plum-voiced Marfa; managing to be both a nagging self-pitying wife and a woman who, perhaps on her deathbed, has obviously suffered so much. What kept flying through my head as she was singing is that Ms. Roderer’s large, beautiful and booming mezzo would make a fantastic Fricka; it is a role she sings and we can only hope she is able to sing it at the Metropolitan Opera (which is supposed to bring back its Ring cycle soon.)

Tenor Marc Heller (above), singing the role of the leader of the Jewish orchestra, would make a pretty good Siegfried. The huge, ringing voice flew easily over the orchestra and Maestro Botstein’s rather unforgiving volume.

Lyric tenor Aaron Blake (above) was a lovely and nervous young Rothschild. There is actually very little for Rothschild to sing, so Mr. Blake made up for it with pantomime acting, particularly at the end after Yakov has gifted him his fiddle (kindly loaned for the proceedings by a violinist on stage), and an extended orchestral postlude (including lovely solo violin playing by concertmaster Gabrielle Fink) summarizes not only Yakov’s sacrifice, but Rothschild’s future. Intentionally or not, there was something quite poetic and moving in the fact that a member of the orchestra gave up her violin and was not able to play the extended orchestral passage in the end, mirroring Yakov’s own losses.

It is also worth nothing that the final orchestral passage goes from being lightly scored and transparent to having a very close resemblance to the searing final moments of Shostakovich’s 5th Symphony.

“Rothschild’s Violin” is a great opera; it deserves to be staged.

~ Ben Weaver

January 31, 2018
American Symphony Orchestra Presents ‘Hollow Victory’

Above: composer Mieczysław Weinberg

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Sunday February 29th, 2018 – Leon Botstein and his American Symphony Orchestra always present interesting programming of rarely-performed works. On January 28th, the theme was “Jews in Soviet Russia after the World War” and was perhaps one of their finest concerts. Presented were three works by two composers: first half was dedicated to Mieczysław Weinberg and second half to Vieniamin Fleishman. Both men were close friends with Dmitri Shostakovich, whose influence can be heard in their works.

Mieczysław Weinberg is perhaps the better-known of the two. Born in 1919 in Warsaw, Poland into an artistic family (his father was a conductor and composer of the Yiddish theater and his Ukrainian-born mother was an actress.) During the war his parents and younger sister were interned in the Lodz ghetto and died in the Trawnicki concentration camp. After the war, in the Soviet Union where he settled, Weinberg was arrested by the KGB in 1953. Shostakovich’s personal appeal to Lavrenti Beria – and Stalin’s death soon thereafter – saved Weinberg’s life. Weinberg’s vast musical output includes 22 symphonies, 17 string quartets, 9 violin sonatas, 7 operas, 40 film and animation scores (including for the Palm d’Or-winning film “The Cranes are Flying.”)

Leon Botstein began the concert with Weinberg’s “Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes,” composed in 1949. An ancient state – forced to be one of the Soviet Union’s republics between 1940 and 1991 – Moldavia’s culture is closely related to Romania’s and it’s folk melodies sometimes will bring to mind folk melodies Brahms and Dvořák used in their famous collection of dances. Weinberg’s Rhapsody begins with a drive from the low strings and then an oboe introduces the first mournful theme. The Rhapsody moves easily between the mournful and infectious dance tunes, alternating soaring full string section and solos for individual instruments. There is a definite Klezmer dance tune near the end, which brings the work to an exciting close.

Weinberg’s substantial Symphony No. 5, composed in 1962, without a doubt takes inspiration from Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4, which though it was premiered in 1961 was composed 25 years earlier, and Weinberg and Shostakovich used to play a two piano arrangement of it for friends long before the premiere. The work opens with a slow “siren,” two repeated notes, from the violins. This motif returns over and over throughout the symphony like a wail of doom, sometimes picked up by other instruments. There are sudden interruptions from the timpani, bringing to mind Mahler’s 6th Symphony. There are beautiful and beautifully-played solos for various instruments, most notably the flute (Yevgeny Faniuk is listed as principal flautist) and horn (Zohar Schondorf)). The Symphony ends with a hushed march, growling trombones and a mysterious celesta.

Veniamin Fleischman was born in 1913 and entered the Leningrad Conservatory in 1939. His teacher, Shostakovich, called Fleishman his favorite student. While a student, on Shostakovich’s suggestion, Fleishman began composing the opera “Rothschild’s Violin,” from a short story by Chekhov. (Fleishman wrote his own libretto.) When the Nazis invaded the USSR in the summer of 1941 Fleishman enlisted in the Red Army and was killed on September 14 near Leningrad. Shostakovich went to great lengths to retrieve Fleishman’s manuscript of the opera. He completed and orchestrated the work in 1943-44, and later went to great lengths to have it performed, though without much success. Its sympathetic portrayal of Jewish people no doubt did not fit comfortably with the Soviet regime. There was one concert performance in Moscow in 1960 and a staged performance did not take place until 1968. Shostakovich wrote in his memoirs: “It’s a marvelous opera – sensitive and sad. There are no cheap effects in it; it is wise and very Chekhovian. I’m sorry that theatres pass over Fleishman’s opera. It’s certainly not the fault of the music, as far as I can see.”

The main character, a Christian coffin maker Yakov Ivanov, undergoes a spiritual crises and something of an awakening. After Yakov’s wife Marfa informs him that she is dying, they both reminisce about their dead child, and Yakov realizes he will have to build his own wife’s coffin. “Life is all loss, only death is gain,” he says. Though Yakov quarrels with Rothschild, the young flautist in the local Jewish orchestra, at the end he leaves Rothschild his most prized possession: the violin, which Rothschild begins to play as the opera ends.

“Rothschild’s Violin” is a magnificent opera. Fleishman, editing Chekov’s story, brilliantly removed all secondary characters and stories, keeping only the story of the coffin-maker. We know nothing even about the young Jew to whom Yakov leaves his violin; nor about Yakov’s wife Marfa, who is dying. This is a story of one man, there are no loungers or pauses in the narrative. It moves quickly through monologues and dialogues, only pausing for Yakov’s final apotheosis where he comes to understand his life and losses. Though the characters, especially Marfa, feel sorry for themselves, there is no sentimentality or cheap dramatic effects. The simplicity of it is what gives the work so much power.

The quartet of singers assembled for the opera was perfect. Bass Mikhail Svetlov (above) was a deeply moving and beautifully sung Yakov. The only native Russian speaker in the cast, he projected the text and all its nuances in a way few can. His is a big, rich voice, with an easy top.

Mezzo-soprano Jennifer Roderer (above) was a plum-voiced Marfa; managing to be both a nagging self-pitying wife and a woman who, perhaps on her deathbed, has obviously suffered so much. What kept flying through my head as she was singing is that Ms. Roderer’s large, beautiful and booming mezzo would make a fantastic Fricka; it is a role she sings and we can only hope she is able to sing it at the Metropolitan Opera (which is supposed to bring back its Ring cycle soon.)

Tenor Marc Heller (above), singing the role of the leader of the Jewish orchestra, would make a pretty good Siegfried. The huge, ringing voice flew easily over the orchestra and Maestro Botstein’s rather unforgiving volume.

Lyric tenor Aaron Blake (above) was a lovely and nervous young Rothschild. There is actually very little for Rothschild to sing, so Mr. Blake made up for it with pantomime acting, particularly at the end after Yakov has gifted him his fiddle (kindly loaned for the proceedings by a violinist on stage), and an extended orchestral postlude (including lovely solo violin playing by concertmaster Gabrielle Fink) summarizes not only Yakov’s sacrifice, but Rothschild’s future. Intentionally or not, there was something quite poetic and moving in the fact that a member of the orchestra gave up her violin and was not able to play the extended orchestral passage in the end, mirroring Yakov’s own losses.

It is also worth nothing that the final orchestral passage goes from being lightly scored and transparent to having a very close resemblance to the searing final moments of Shostakovich’s 5th Symphony.

“Rothschild’s Violin” is a great opera; it deserves to be staged.

~ Ben Weaver

January 30, 2018
Mendelssohn’s Sorrow @ Chamber Music Society
Above: the Schumann Quartet

Sunday February 26th, 2017 – Following last week’s Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s program centering on joy-filled music by Felix Mendelssohn, we were back at Alice Tully Hall to experience the great composer’s more melancholy moods. With music of Bach and Schumann also on offer, we became acquainted with Schumann String Quartet, and could admire once again three artists whose CMS performances to date have given particular pleasure: violinist Danbi Um, cellist Jakob Koranyi, and pianist Juho Pohjonen.

Mr. Pohjonen (above) opened the evening with Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903. The Finnish pianist’s elegance of technique and his Olde World mystique always summon up for me visions of pianists from bygone days performing in the drawing rooms of Paris, Budapest, or Vienna. But for all those dreamworld allusions, Mr. Pohjonen’s playing has vibrant immediacy and is very much of our time.

Mr. Pohjonen, in a program note, describes the Chromatic Fantasy as “labyrinthine”, and that it most surely is; but it’s a wonderful work to get lost in, and as the pianist drew us along the music’s sometimes eccentric, almost improvisational pathways, we could only marvel at the gradations of both subtlety and passion in his playing.

The Schumann Quartet intrigued us from the very opening notes of their rendering of Mendelssohn’s Fugue in E-flat major. From her first phrase, violist Liisa Randalu drew us in; the three Schumann brothers – Erik and Ken (violins), and Mark (cello) – take up the wistful melody in turn. The music becomes gently animated, with the four voices blending serenely. Poignant colours from the rising violin and the honeyed resonance of the cello frame Ms. Randalu’s expressive playing. These textures will become key elements in the Schumann Quartet’s performance of the composer’s Quartet in F-minor, which followed immediately.

Mendelssohn’s last completed major work, the F-minor quartet was composed in 1847. On returning to Frankfurt from a tiring stay in London in early May, the composer soon learned that Fanny, his beloved sister, had died of a stroke. Mendelssohn struggled that summer with work on numerous projects, but was only able to complete this final quartet, dedicated to Fanny’s memory. On November 4th, he died following a series of strokes. He was 38 years old.

The F-minor quartet opens with scurrying attacks and a sense of restless energy. The music softens to a nervous pulsing as the cello sings from lyrical depths, with the luminous violin overhead. The movement then accelerates to a striking finish. The “scherzo” ironically mixes passionate phrases with delicate commentary. Viola and cello rumble darkly in the brief trio passage, then the tempest stirs up again before a little coda vanishes into thin air.

A simple song that Mendelssohn and Fanny had shared in happier times memorializes their bond in the touching Adagio, which commences with a descending cello passage. The recollections evoked by the song, which is a sweet melody in its own right, are now tinged with sadness. Superbly controlled tone from Erik Schumann’s violin was most affecting; the pulsing cello then heralds a surge of despairing passion.

The finale is restless, at times verging on dissonant. Passing notions of lyricism are swept away, and wild passages for the violin warn of an impending disaster. This is a composer on the brink.

The Schumann Quartet’s very impressive playing of this disturbing yet strangely beautiful piece earned them a very warm acclamation from the Tully Hall crowd. It is pleasing to know that they will be back with us next season in this same lovely space to share other aspects of their artistry – music from The Roaring Twenties on March 4th, 2018, and a full Schumann Quartet evening on April 29th, 2018, when they’ll play works of Haydn, Bartok, Reimann, and Schumann.

Following the interval, Mr. Pohjonen offered Robert Schumann’s Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18. This episodic piece has a narrative aspect, though none is stated or even implied. Mr. Pohjonen relished the melodious themes that rise up, veering from major to minor as the Arabesque flows forward. Subtle passages become treasurable in this pianist’s interpretation, and the poetic finish of the work was lovingly expressed.

Juho Pohjonen returned with his colleagues Danbi Um and Jakob Koranyi for Schumann’s Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63.

Above: Danbi Um, photo by Vanessa Briceño

Above: Jakob Koranyi, photo by Anna-Lena Ahlström

Ms. Um, lithe and lovely in a fair burgundy-hued gown, displayed the sweetness of tone that makes listening to her so enjoyable; Messrs Koranyi and Pohjonen are masters of dynamic nuance, and thus the three together delivered page after page of radiant, colorful playing.

The D-minor trio’s opening movement calls for rippling arpeggios from the pianist, expertly set forth by Mr. Pohjonen. Ms. Um and Mr. Koranyi harmonize and converse in passages which switch from lyrical yearning to emphatic declamation. A pause, and a new theme emerges: delicate at first, then turning passionate. A sense of agitation prevails in this movement, despite ‘settled’ moments: the three musicians captured these shifts of mood so well, and they savored the rather unexpected ending.

Marked “Lebhaft, doch nicht zu rasch” (‘Lively, but not rushed’), the scherzo has the feel of a scuffing, skipping dance. Rising and falling scales glow in the calmer interlude; but the dance soon strikes up again…and comes to a sudden halt.

The trio’s third movement embarks on a disconsolate violin passage, played with affecting expressiveness and lovely control by Ms. Um. When Mr. Koranyi’s cello joins in, this simple melody becomes increasingly touching. A gently urgent central section reverts to the slow, sad gorgeousness so evocatively sustained by our three musicians, the cello sounding from the depths.

The tuneful finale seems almost joyous, but shadows can still hover. The playing is marvelously integrated, becoming tender – almost dreamy – with smoothly rippling piano and the violin on the ascent. The themes mingle, developing into a big song. This simmers down briefly before a final rush of energy propels us to the finish.

I had felt pretty certain the Um-Koranyi-Pohjonen collaboration would produce memorable results, and I was right. We must hear them together again – soon – and let’s start with my favorite chamber works: the Mendelssohn piano trios. The audience shared my enthusiasm for the three musicians, calling them back for a second bow this evening.
- Bach Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903 (before 1723)
- Mendelssohn Fugue in E-flat major for String Quartet, Op. 81, No. 4 (1827)
- Mendelssohn Quartet in F minor for Strings, Op. 80 (1847)
- Schumann Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18 (1838-39)
- Schumann Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63 (1847)
February 27, 2017
Mendelssohn’s Sorrow @ Chamber Music Society
Above: the Schumann Quartet

Sunday February 26th, 2017 – Following last week’s Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s program centering on joy-filled music by Felix Mendelssohn, we were back at Alice Tully Hall to experience the great composer’s more melancholy moods. With music of Bach and Schumann also on offer, we became acquainted with Schumann String Quartet, and could admire once again three artists whose CMS performances to date have given particular pleasure: violinist Danbi Um, cellist Jakob Koranyi, and pianist Juho Pohjonen.

Mr. Pohjonen (above) opened the evening with Bach’s Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903. The Finnish pianist’s elegance of technique and his Olde World mystique always summon up for me visions of pianists from bygone days performing in the drawing rooms of Paris, Budapest, or Vienna. But for all those dreamworld allusions, Mr. Pohjonen’s playing has vibrant immediacy and is very much of our time.

Mr. Pohjonen, in a program note, describes the Chromatic Fantasy as “labyrinthine”, and that it most surely is; but it’s a wonderful work to get lost in, and as the pianist drew us along the music’s sometimes eccentric, almost improvisational pathways, we could only marvel at the gradations of both subtlety and passion in his playing.

The Schumann Quartet intrigued us from the very opening notes of their rendering of Mendelssohn’s Fugue in E-flat major. From her first phrase, violist Liisa Randalu drew us in; the three Schumann brothers – Erik and Ken (violins), and Mark (cello) – take up the wistful melody in turn. The music becomes gently animated, with the four voices blending serenely. Poignant colours from the rising violin and the honeyed resonance of the cello frame Ms. Randalu’s expressive playing. These textures will become key elements in the Schumann Quartet’s performance of the composer’s Quartet in F-minor, which followed immediately.

Mendelssohn’s last completed major work, the F-minor quartet was composed in 1847. On returning to Frankfurt from a tiring stay in London in early May, the composer soon learned that Fanny, his beloved sister, had died of a stroke. Mendelssohn struggled that summer with work on numerous projects, but was only able to complete this final quartet, dedicated to Fanny’s memory. On November 4th, he died following a series of strokes. He was 38 years old.

The F-minor quartet opens with scurrying attacks and a sense of restless energy. The music softens to a nervous pulsing as the cello sings from lyrical depths, with the luminous violin overhead. The movement then accelerates to a striking finish. The “scherzo” ironically mixes passionate phrases with delicate commentary. Viola and cello rumble darkly in the brief trio passage, then the tempest stirs up again before a little coda vanishes into thin air.

A simple song that Mendelssohn and Fanny had shared in happier times memorializes their bond in the touching Adagio, which commences with a descending cello passage. The recollections evoked by the song, which is a sweet melody in its own right, are now tinged with sadness. Superbly controlled tone from Erik Schumann’s violin was most affecting; the pulsing cello then heralds a surge of despairing passion.

The finale is restless, at times verging on dissonant. Passing notions of lyricism are swept away, and wild passages for the violin warn of an impending disaster. This is a composer on the brink.

The Schumann Quartet’s very impressive playing of this disturbing yet strangely beautiful piece earned them a very warm acclamation from the Tully Hall crowd. It is pleasing to know that they will be back with us next season in this same lovely space to share other aspects of their artistry – music from The Roaring Twenties on March 4th, 2018, and a full Schumann Quartet evening on April 29th, 2018, when they’ll play works of Haydn, Bartok, Reimann, and Schumann.

Following the interval, Mr. Pohjonen offered Robert Schumann’s Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18. This episodic piece has a narrative aspect, though none is stated or even implied. Mr. Pohjonen relished the melodious themes that rise up, veering from major to minor as the Arabesque flows forward. Subtle passages become treasurable in this pianist’s interpretation, and the poetic finish of the work was lovingly expressed.

Juho Pohjonen returned with his colleagues Danbi Um and Jakob Koranyi for Schumann’s Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63.

Above: Danbi Um, photo by Vanessa Briceño

Above: Jakob Koranyi, photo by Anna-Lena Ahlström

Ms. Um, lithe and lovely in a fair burgundy-hued gown, displayed the sweetness of tone that makes listening to her so enjoyable; Messrs Koranyi and Pohjonen are masters of dynamic nuance, and thus the three together delivered page after page of radiant, colorful playing.

The D-minor trio’s opening movement calls for rippling arpeggios from the pianist, expertly set forth by Mr. Pohjonen. Ms. Um and Mr. Koranyi harmonize and converse in passages which switch from lyrical yearning to emphatic declamation. A pause, and a new theme emerges: delicate at first, then turning passionate. A sense of agitation prevails in this movement, despite ‘settled’ moments: the three musicians captured these shifts of mood so well, and they savored the rather unexpected ending.

Marked “Lebhaft, doch nicht zu rasch” (‘Lively, but not rushed’), the scherzo has the feel of a scuffing, skipping dance. Rising and falling scales glow in the calmer interlude; but the dance soon strikes up again…and comes to a sudden halt.

The trio’s third movement embarks on a disconsolate violin passage, played with affecting expressiveness and lovely control by Ms. Um. When Mr. Koranyi’s cello joins in, this simple melody becomes increasingly touching. A gently urgent central section reverts to the slow, sad gorgeousness so evocatively sustained by our three musicians, the cello sounding from the depths.

The tuneful finale seems almost joyous, but shadows can still hover. The playing is marvelously integrated, becoming tender – almost dreamy – with smoothly rippling piano and the violin on the ascent. The themes mingle, developing into a big song. This simmers down briefly before a final rush of energy propels us to the finish.

I had felt pretty certain the Um-Koranyi-Pohjonen collaboration would produce memorable results, and I was right. We must hear them together again – soon – and let’s start with my favorite chamber works: the Mendelssohn piano trios. The audience shared my enthusiasm for the three musicians, calling them back for a second bow this evening.
- Bach Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue in D minor for Keyboard, BWV 903 (before 1723)
- Mendelssohn Fugue in E-flat major for String Quartet, Op. 81, No. 4 (1827)
- Mendelssohn Quartet in F minor for Strings, Op. 80 (1847)
- Schumann Arabesque in C major for Piano, Op. 18 (1838-39)
- Schumann Trio No. 1 D minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 63 (1847)
February 26, 2017
CMS Beethoven Cycle: The Danish!
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:
February 21, 2016