Tag: The New York Philharmonic

Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday December 27th, 2017 – My friend Dmitry and I are fans of Yefim Bronfman, so this evening’s concert by The New York Philharmonic was a perfect classical-music finale for the year 2017.

The evening opened with the overture to Smetana’s opera THE BARTERED BRIDE. I first heard this overture played live when James Levine chose it to open the Metropolitan Opera’s 100th anniversary gala in 1983. The gala (in two parts – matinee and evening) was telecast worldwide, but I was fortunate to have been in the House for the afternoon program. Let’s just say, they don’t make opera galas like that any more.

It was great fun to hear the jolly, rambunctious Smetana overture again tonight under Bramwell Tovey’s baton; the Maestro set an exhilarating, ultra-fast pace for this music, and the Philharmonic artists took up his challenge: they played brilliantly and seemed truly to be having fun into the bargain. The music passes thru many modulations along the way, and solo moments sparkle forth – notably from Sherry Sylar’s oboe – as we are danced along in a lively manner. Really, an ideal concert-opener.

Mr. Bronfman then appeared for the Bartok 2nd piano concerto. Following an ascending flourish from the Steinway, the first movement commences with rather wild brass fanfares. The piano sounds restless, set against winds; the turbulence builds only to subside, and Mr. Brofman’s playing turns subtle. Following another brass and piano build-up, there’s a full stop. Thereafter the music seems more melodious, though droll and ironic. The brass get quite noisy before the pianist silences them with a cadenza that flows up and down the keyboard. After a passage for flutes and piano, the soloist plays a double rising motif.

Pensive strings introduce the the Adagio which develops into a marvelous duet for piano and timpani. Here Mr. Bronfman and timpanist Marcus Rhoten created an incredible atmosphere: moody and a bit ominous. Suddenly things perk up without warning and we are in a scherzo-like realm with an agitato feeling and with the pianist finding unusual delicacies. Mr. Bronfman then commences a remarkable pianissimo trill that goes on and on over misterioso strings.

For the concerto’s finale, Bartók gets almost jazzy – in a slightly darkish way – and we hear from the trumpets; a feeling of a kind of war dance evolves. Another piano/percussion duet crops up – this time it’s Steinway vs bass drum – before the music turns unexpectedly dreamy. But the dream is short-lived as the trumpets re-awaken and the concerto ends brightly. Mr. Bronfman was well in his element throughout, his playing agile and multi-hued, with fine dynamic contrasts. The orchestra did their soloist proud.

By way of perfect contrast to his grand-scale playing of the Bartók, Mr. Bronfman chose for an encore Chopin’s Étude in E Major, Op.10, No.3. The opening melody of this work, thought to have been Chopin’s favorite among the études, was later the source of a vocal song arranged by the soprano Félia Litvinne and recorded famously by Litvinne’s pupil, the tragic Germaine Lubin. This evening, Mr. Bronfman’s poetic rendering of the full étude cast a thoughtful spell over the hall. This magical experience, like so many others in recent years, was sadly spoilt in its most poignant passage by the ringing of a cellphone. Yet Mr. Bronfman continued, unperturbed, and left me a beautiful memory to cherish.

Above: Bramwell Tovey

Following the interval, an exciting performance of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exposition (in the Ravel orchestration) again found the orchestra on peak form. Opening with a brass chorale Promenade, which recurs with variations during the first seven movements, the suite conjures up visions of the works of Viktor Hartmann. Upon Hartmann’s death in 1874 at the young age of 39, an exhibition of his work was mounted at St. Petersburg. Mussorgsky visited the exhibit and was inspired by what he saw to write a set of miniatures for piano. In 1922, Maurice Ravel orchestrated the pieces.

A huge orchestra is in play, including five percussionists, two harps, and celesta. The ponderous Gnome, the child-like and playful Tuileries, the plodding Ox-Cart, the mini-scherzo of the Ballet of Unhatched Chicks, the bustling Marketplace at Limoges, the Roman Catacombs (deep brass), and the fanciful Hut of Baba-Yaga are all evoked in coloristic settings which the Philharmonic players delivered with evident affection.

The movement which most impressed me was Il Vecchio Castello (The Old Castle) in which flutes, oboe, and bassoon were joined by the mellow, distinctive voice of the alto saxophone. This music was so evocative that I got lost in it.

The suite ends on a grand note with The Great Gate of Kiev. Sumptuously played, it brought a year full of music to an imperial finish.

~ Oberon

December 28, 2017
Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday December 27th, 2017 – My friend Dmitry and I are fans of Yefim Bronfman, so this evening’s concert by The New York Philharmonic was a perfect classical-music finale for the year 2017.

The evening opened with the overture to Smetana’s opera THE BARTERED BRIDE. I first heard this overture played live when James Levine chose it to open the Metropolitan Opera’s 100th anniversary gala in 1983. The gala (in two parts – matinee and evening) was telecast worldwide, but I was fortunate to have been in the House for the afternoon program. Let’s just say, they don’t make opera galas like that any more.

It was great fun to hear the jolly, rambunctious Smetana overture again tonight under Bramwell Tovey’s baton; the Maestro set an exhilarating, ultra-fast pace for this music, and the Philharmonic artists took up his challenge: they played brilliantly and seemed truly to be having fun into the bargain. The music passes thru many modulations along the way, and solo moments sparkle forth – notably from Sherry Sylar’s oboe – as we are danced along in a lively manner. Really, an ideal concert-opener.

Mr. Bronfman then appeared for the Bartok 2nd piano concerto. Following an ascending flourish from the Steinway, the first movement commences with rather wild brass fanfares. The piano sounds restless, set against winds; the turbulence builds only to subside, and Mr. Brofman’s playing turns subtle. Following another brass and piano build-up, there’s a full stop. Thereafter the music seems more melodious, though droll and ironic. The brass get quite noisy before the pianist silences them with a cadenza that flows up and down the keyboard. After a passage for flutes and piano, the soloist plays a double rising motif.

Pensive strings introduce the the Adagio which develops into a marvelous duet for piano and timpani. Here Mr. Bronfman and timpanist Marcus Rhoten created an incredible atmosphere: moody and a bit ominous. Suddenly things perk up without warning and we are in a scherzo-like realm with an agitato feeling and with the pianist finding unusual delicacies. Mr. Bronfman then commences a remarkable pianissimo trill that goes on and on over misterioso strings.

For the concerto’s finale, Bartók gets almost jazzy – in a slightly darkish way – and we hear from the trumpets; a feeling of a kind of war dance evolves. Another piano/percussion duet crops up – this time it’s Steinway vs bass drum – before the music turns unexpectedly dreamy. But the dream is short-lived as the trumpets re-awaken and the concerto ends brightly. Mr. Bronfman was well in his element throughout, his playing agile and multi-hued, with fine dynamic contrasts. The orchestra did their soloist proud.

By way of perfect contrast to his grand-scale playing of the Bartók, Mr. Bronfman chose for an encore Chopin’s Étude in E Major, Op.10, No.3. The opening melody of this work, thought to have been Chopin’s favorite among the études, was later the source of a vocal song arranged by the soprano Félia Litvinne and recorded famously by Litvinne’s pupil, the tragic Germaine Lubin. This evening, Mr. Bronfman’s poetic rendering of the full étude cast a thoughtful spell over the hall. This magical experience, like so many others in recent years, was sadly spoilt in its most poignant passage by the ringing of a cellphone. Yet Mr. Bronfman continued, unperturbed, and left me a beautiful memory to cherish.

Above: Bramwell Tovey

Following the interval, an exciting performance of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exposition (in the Ravel orchestration) again found the orchestra on peak form. Opening with a brass chorale Promenade, which recurs with variations during the first seven movements, the suite conjures up visions of the works of Viktor Hartmann. Upon Hartmann’s death in 1874 at the young age of 39, an exhibition of his work was mounted at St. Petersburg. Mussorgsky visited the exhibit and was inspired by what he saw to write a set of miniatures for piano. In 1922, Maurice Ravel orchestrated the pieces.

A huge orchestra is in play, including five percussionists, two harps, and celesta. The ponderous Gnome, the child-like and playful Tuileries, the plodding Ox-Cart, the mini-scherzo of the Ballet of Unhatched Chicks, the bustling Marketplace at Limoges, the Roman Catacombs (deep brass), and the fanciful Hut of Baba-Yaga are all evoked in coloristic settings which the Philharmonic players delivered with evident affection.

The movement which most impressed me was Il Vecchio Castello (The Old Castle) in which flutes, oboe, and bassoon were joined by the mellow, distinctive voice of the alto saxophone. This music was so evocative that I got lost in it.

The suite ends on a grand note with The Great Gate of Kiev. Sumptuously played, it brought a year full of music to an imperial finish.

~ Oberon

December 27, 2017
Huang|Noseda|New York Philharmonic

Above: The New York Philharmonic’s concertmaster Frank Huang

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday November 22nd, 2017 – The announcement of the death of the great Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky coloured my entire day. It came, by unhappy coincidence, on the anniversary of the assassination of John F Kennedy which took place in 1963: the most disturbing world-event of my youth. That brutal murder – and its aftermath – I still remember so clearly.

This evening, I went as planned to The New York Philharmonic‘s program of Russian and French works. Though I was in the mood for darker, more soul-reaching music, the program – magnificently played – did lift my spirits, if only temporarily.

As far as I know, Mr. Hvorostovsky appeared with The New York Philharmonic for only one program: in 1998, he sang Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder with the orchestra. I was there, and was swept away by the peerless beauty of his voice and by his deeply poetic interpretation. How I wished he could have been with us again tonight. But the program did commence with music from Hvorostovsky’s homeland: a suite from Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh. It ended up being my best-loved work of the evening and it was brilliantly delivered by the Philharmonic players, under Gianandrea Noseda’s baton.

Hearing music from The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh brought back memories of a day in 1983 when I stepped off a bus in Boston on a Sunday afternoon and began walking towards the opera house where the Rimsky-Korsakov opera was being performed at a matinee. Suddenly the sky opened up; no store that was open sold umbrellas. I made a run for it, but was literally drenched from head to toe by the time I got to the theatre. Needless to say, I did not enjoy the performance at all, and left at intermission…still soaking wet.

The suite from The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh is in four movements, depicting episodes from the opera: a Hymn to Nature, Fevronia’s wedding procession, the invasion of the Tatars and the subsequent battle, and Fevronia’s Ascension to the Invisible. It begins on a sombre note, with harps adding a touch of magic. Throughout the suite, solo wind passages abound; Maestro Noseda brought out these colouristic facets, and the Philharmonic artists played them delightfully.

A broad viola theme stands out, and the percussionists are kept on their toes with bells, chimes,and glockenspiel in addition to the timpani, bass, and snare drums that come to attention for the battle scenes. The suite was an excellent program-opener.

It’s always a great pleasure when principals from the Philharmonic step into the concerto spotlight. Tonight, concertmaster Frank Huang performed Camille Saint-Saëns’ Violin Concerto No. 3 – my first time hearing it live. The concerto begins without an orchestral introduction; instead, only quiet, darkish chords provide a background for the rather harsh opening phrases of the violin. Mr. Huang’s playing here seemed a little unsettled, with traces of sharpness of pitch. But within seconds, the violinist had settled into the music and gave a really impressive, technically assured performance.

As the concerto’s first movement develops, there are dramatic contrasts between full-bodied, passionate themes and more sedate passages. There is a sense of yearning in the music which Mr. Huang conveyed to perfection. In the Andantino which follows, the composer meshes the solo violin with winds in music with an elegant air.

The concluding movement begins with a slow introduction and some almost jagged interjections from the violin. The Allegro non troppo itself is launched with an up-sweeping motif for the solo violin. Passages of coloratura for the soloist alternate with more lyrical elements; then commences a surprising cantabile, where Mr. Huang’s beauty of tone was ravishingly engaging. Pages of virtuosic writing show off the soloist’s fluent technique, and hints of gypsy passion are thrown in. The leaping violin theme returns and is most welcome. An orchestral chorale is an innovative detour before the concerto sails on to a bravura finish. Mr. Huang was rightly accorded a prolonged ovation from the audience whilst his onstage colleagues tapped their bows and stamped their feet in acclaim.

Above: Gianandrea Noseda

Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 3, under Maestro Noseda’s baton, followed the interval. Like so many symphonic works, its a piece I’m not really familiar with, and I must say, I felt slightly disappointed with it musically. It’s all terribly impressive and enjoyable to hear, but the emotions are rarely engaged. Perhaps it was just my mood, but I kept longing for a deeper experience.

That said, the artists of the Philharmonic played it most impressively. And it is to them that I owe thanks for moving or thrilling me on this evening: to Mr. Huang of course, but also to other players who had prominent passages tonight: Sheryl Staples (violin), Yoobin Son and Mindy Kaufman (flute/piccolo), Sherry Sylar (oboe), Pascual Martinez Forteza (clarinet), Kim Laskowski (bassoon), and Amy Zaloto (bass clarinet).

Encouraged by the great success of his Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini (1934), Rachmaninoff started work on his third symphony in the summer of 1935. Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra gave the premiere on November 6, 1936. It was not well-received by the audience, nor by the press. Perhaps, as with those early auditors, I need to hear it a few more times to cultivate a more positive reaction.

There are countless appealing passages – a cello tutti was especially beautiful – and the final movement’s journey from optimism thru a vale of doubt and the onward via a meditative passage to a ringing conclusion evoked a big response from the Geffen Hall audience.

~ Oberon

November 23, 2017
The Labèque Sisters|van Zweden|NY Philharmonic

Above: Katia and Marielle Labèque

Author: Oberon

Saturday September 23rd, 2017 – The first thing we noticed upon taking our seats at The New York Philharmonic this evening was that the seating arrangement for the orchestra had changed: risers are now in use. Hopefully this is a permanent enhancement, as it is so pleasing to be able to actually see people like Judith LeClair, Robert Langevin, Anthony McGill, and Liang Wang while they are playing.

This week has marked the start of the Jaap van Zweden era at the Philharmonic, even though it’s not until next season that the appendage “Designate” will be dropped from the title “Music Director”. The orchestra played superbly for the Maestro, and if the vociferous standing ovation that erupted the moment the Mahler 5th ended is any indication, the audience is embracing Mr. van Zweden in no uncertain terms.

The New York premiere of Philip Glass’s Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra opened the program. The Labèque sisters, in fitted black trousers and be-spangled sweaters, were warmly greeted by the crowd; they have been top-rank musicians for a long time and they still look sensationally slender and attractive…and their playing retains its accustomed verve and grace.

Glass calls for a huge orchestra for this most recent of his creations; no fewer than seven percussionists take part, along with vast troupes of string, wind, and brass players. The concerto is in three movements and sets out from a jazzy opening that develops into a feeling of a giant hurdy-gurdy playing as a kozmic merry-go-round swirls madly. Pulsing waves of sound, in dense textures, wash over us. From this turbulence, a lovely misterioso motif for the pianos emerges, with a gong struck softly as an undertone.

The pianists playing in their lower ranges open the second movement, with wooden clappers beating time. The trumpets and flutes join voices; at this point a cellphone went off in the audience but it merged into the musical texture. Rhythmic and textural variety sustain this central movement. The concerto concludes with a sort of adagio of somewhat darkish hues.

The new concerto is appealing in its way, but I can’t say it’s particularly distinctive or memorable. The pianos do not take the prominence one might expect in a concerto setting, but rather they are simply one constant voice in the overall chorus of instruments, given a few solo/duo passages along the way. I was hoping for an encore from the Labèque sisters, or possibly an appearance by Philip Glass, but after a couple of bows, the intermission commenced.

Above: Jaap van Zweden

Mahler’s Fifth Symphony was composed during the summers of 1901 and 1902, during his annual holiday from his job as director of the Vienna Court Opera. It was in Vienna the winter prior to beginning his fifth symphony that Mahler had met Alma Schindler, the beautiful daughter of a famous landscape painter. Mahler proposed to her in the Autumn of 1901, and the symphony, with its journey from mourning thru the dreamworld of the Adagietto to happy triumph seems to mirror the composer’s state of mind with his new-found love.

The symphony’s brilliant opening trumpet fanfare was excitingly introduced by Christopher Martin. As the first three movements of this very long symphony progressed, the Philharmonic players responded thrillingly to Maestro van Zweden’s intense, almost daemonic vision of the score. In the beloved Adagietto, for strings and harp, the conductor’s gentle pace and his summoning of luminous textures from the musicians created a depth of beauty in which we could – for a few minutes – forget the dark dangers of living in today’s uncertain world. In the grandeur of the symphony’s dazzling Rondo-Finale, the maestro and his musicians swept the celebratory feeling forward, pausing only for a couple of momentary roundabouts, and on to its epic conclusion. The audience went wild.

~ Oberon

September 23, 2017
Celebrating Alan Gilbert’s 50th Birthday

Thursday February 23rd, 2017 – An array of stars from the classical music firmament were on hand to celebrate the 50th birthday of The New York Philharmonic‘s Music Director Alan Gilbert. Click on the above photo to enlarge.

“Life begins at 50!”…at least it did for me: the life I’d always hoped to live, here in New York City with my beloved, with everything I enjoy – music, dance, art, food, a nearby park – at my fingertips, and good friends to share things with. Alan Gilbert’s tenure as Music Director coincides with my own embrace of The Philharmonic. I would go once in a while during the Mehta-Boulez-Masur-Maazel years, but in recent seasons I have rarely missed a program; I have become an admirer of several of the orchestra’s musicians, and of Alan’s leadership. He’ll soon be embarking on a new phase of his career, and so it was truly pleasing to be there tonight, joining with the stellar party guests onstage to salute the Maestro.

The first half of the evening was devoted to music of the Three Bs: Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms. After welcoming speeches, Alan Gilbert strode out to a warm greeting from the packed house. Paolo Bordignon was at the harpsichord as Pamela Frank and Frank Huang took up the opening Vivace of Bach’s Concerto for Two Violins in D minor, BWV 1043, playing with festive vitality. Pamela Frank was then joined by Joshua Bell for the Largo ma non tanto, and how beautifully their timbres blended: deeply satisfying music-making. I’d hoped Alan Gilbert might play tonight, but the third movement of the Bach brought forth Lisa Batiashvili and Mr. Huang in the vivacious Allegro.

I think this was the first time I have heard this piece outside of its ballet setting: Balanchine’s masterpiece CONCERTO BAROCCO is frequently given across the Plaza. Throughout tonight’s concert rendering, the choreography danced in my head.

Phenomenal back-to-back performances by two of the world’s great pianists followed: Emanuel Ax cast a magic spell over the music of Brahms: the Andante from the 2nd piano concerto. How gently Mr. Ax caressed this music, and how poignant was the sound of Carter Brey’s cello in his long solo passage. The cello returns near the end of the movement as Mr. Ax plays a series of delicate trills.

Yefim Bronfman then took command of the Steinway in a thrillingly virtuosic Allegro con brio from Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3. With some wonderful interjections from the Philharmonic’s wind soloists along the way, the pianist brought both passion and nuance to his playing. As his spectacular rendering of the cadenza drew to its close on a series of gossamer trills, the orchestra re-entered creating an exquisite sense of quietude.

Joshua Bell’s fiery playing and unbridled physicality evoked the audience’s rousing ovation for his performance of the Allegro energico from Max Bruch’s first violin concerto. Moments later, a very different aspect of Mr. Bell’s artistry was gorgeously evidenced as he joined Renée Fleming for Richard Strauss’s “Morgen!“; the warmth of the soprano’s voice and the silken serenity of Mr. Bell’s phrasing created a tranquil atmosphere, like basking in sunlight on some distant seashore.

Ms. Fleming then gave one of her trademark arias, “Marietta’s Lied” from Erich Korngold’s DIE TOTE STADT; the song’s romance and mystery were conveyed by the soprano in the high-rising arcs of the vocal line over a dreamlike orchestration that features harp, piano, and celesta. The music becomes passionate; then the singer speaks a couple of lines, as she tries to recall the words of the second verse. Once again the haunting melody is sung, followed by an evocative postlude. Intoxicating moments.

Lisa Batiashvili offered “Goin’ Home“, the ‘spiritual’ that was drawn from the principal theme of the Largo of Antonin Dvořák’s New World symphony, arranged by Fritz Kreisler, and adapted by T. Batiashvili. This was played with rich emotion and lovely tone by the comely Ms. Batiashvili; the only problem is that the song is quite brief, leaving us craving more Batiashvili.

Gershwin’s An American in Paris, a favorite work of Alan Gilbert’s, was the closing work of the evening; not my cup of tea, but of course superbly played.

Frock watch: being a party night, the women of the Philharmonic did not all wear regulation black; Cynthia Phelps looked radiant in a “gamorous” slit-skirt emerald green number. Pamela Frank wore a black gown shot with silver, and be-jeweled shoes which would have made Cinderella envious. Lisa Batiashvili, ever the picture of elegance, wore a sleek, satiny gun-metal creation with a hint of Grecian style. And Renée Fleming looked every inch the diva in vermilion with a long golden shawl.

Renée led us in singing ‘Happy Birthday, Dear Alan’ with the standing audience saluting the conductor and everyone singing full-voice. Maestro Gilbert basked in the embraces of the great musicians who had gathered to honor him; then they all seemed to be heading off together to continue the party into the wee hours as Alan waved goodbye to the crowd.

February 23, 2017
Bronfman|Bychkov ~ Tchaikovsky @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

Friday January 27th, 2017 – With Semyon Bychkov on the podium and Yefim Bronfman at the Steinway, we were assured of an exciting evening at The New York Philharmonic. Music by Glinka and Tchaikovsky was played in the grand style under Maestro Bychkov’s magical baton, and Mr. Bronfman brought down the house with his splendid account of Tchaikovsky’s 2nd piano concerto. Throughout this à la Russe program, visions of the splendours of the Tsarist courts filled the imagination.

The first half of the evening was given over to two scores which inspired George Balanchine to create two choreographic masterworks: Mikhail Glinka’s brief Valse-Fantaisie, and the Tchaikovsky concerto. The two ballets unfolded clearly in my mind as the music, so familiar to me from innumerable performances at New York City Ballet, filled Geffen Hall in all its romantic glory.

The infectious, lilting rhythm of the waltz propels the Glinka score; originally written for piano in 1839 and later orchestrated, it is rich in melody and intriguing shifts between major and minor passages, evoking the glamour, chivalry, and mystery of a glittering ball at the Winter Palace. Needless to say, it was sumptuously played under Maestro Bychkov’s masterful leadership.

Tchaikovsky’s 2nd piano concerto has been a favorite of mine for years, thanks to my great affection for the ballet Balanchine created to it. Written in 1879–1880, the concerto was dedicated to Nikolai Rubinstein; but Rubinstein was never destined to play it, as he died in March 1881. The premiere performance took place in New York City, in November of 1881 with Madeline Schiller as soloist and Theodore Thomas conducted The New York Philharmonic orchestra. The first Russian performance was in Moscow in May 1882, conducted by Anton Rubinstein with Tchaikovsky’s pupil, Sergei Taneyev, at the piano.

Tonight, Yefim Bronfman’s power and virtuosity enthralled his listeners, who erupted in enthusiastic applause after the concerto’s first movement. The eminent pianist could produce thunderous sounds one moment and soft, murmuring phrases the next; this full dynamic spectrum was explored in the monster cadenza, to mesmerizing effect. A word of mention here of some lovely phrases from flautist Robert Langevin and clarinetist Pascual Martinez Fortenza early in the concerto; in fact, all of the wind soloists were very much on their game tonight.

In the Andante, a sense of gentle tenderness filled Bronfman’s playing, and his rapport with concertmaster Frank Huang and cellist Carter Brey in the extended passages where they play off one another made me crave an evening of chamber music with these three masters. The concerto sailed on thru the concluding Allegro con fuoco, with its gypsy-dance theme brilliantly set forth by both pianist and orchestra. Maestro Bychkov, who had set all the big, sweeping themes sailing forth grandly into the hall throughout, was particularly delightful in this lively finale. At the end, the audience erupted in a gale of applause and cheers, Mr. Bronfman cordially bringing Mssrs. Huang and Brey forward to share in the ovation.

Throughout this awe-inspiring performance, the choreography of Balanchine danced in my head, and visions of Viktoria Tereshkina, Teresa Reichlen, Faye Arthurs, and Jonathan Stafford sprang up, the music inspiring the memory of their sublime dancing in Mr. B’s remarkable setting of this concerto.

After the interval, Maestro Bychkov (above) led an epic performance of Tchaikovsky’s 5th symphony. From the burnished beauty of the horn solo near the start, thru the palpable fervor of the Andante cantabile (with its evocation of the SLEEPING BEAUTY Vision Scene), and on thru the Valse, which moves from sway to elegant ebullience, Maestro Bychckov and the artists of the Philharmonic gloried in one Tchaikovskyian treasure after another.

The symphony’s finale, right from it’s soulful ‘Russian’ opening theme, seemed to sum up all that had gone before: vivid dancing rhythms from Russian folk music, a march-like tread, a brief interlude. Then the brass call forth, and a tremendous timpani roll heralds a mighty processional. One final pause before a stately repeat of the main theme and a swift, four-chord finish. The audience rightly responded to the Maestro and the musicians with a full-scale standing ovation.

January 27, 2017
Nikolaj Znaider|Iván Fischer|NY Phil

Friday November 25th, 2016 – Tonight, Nikolaj Znaider (above) played the Beethoven violin concerto with The New York Philharmonic under the baton of Iván Fischer; the second half of the program was given over to the Dvořák 8th symphony.

The first thing we noticed when entering the hall tonight was the configuration of the orchestra, most especially the welcome addition of risers for the wind players, and the basses (they were on the highest platform). This is something I have always wished to see at Philharmonic performances: up til this evening, it was nearly impossible to determine who was playing solo wind passages during a symphony. Now there’s a better opportunity to watch people like Robert Langevin, Liang Wang, and Anthony McGill: to savor them as individuals and not just as sounds emanating from behind 2 rows of string players and 3 of music stands. It’s unclear whether the risers are going to continue to be in regular use now or whether it’s just something Maestro Fischer asked for. But this set-up really enhanced my enjoyment of the evening, especially given Mr. Langevin’s prominence in the Dvořák: how wonderful to not only hear his magic flute but to actually watch the magician at work.

Nikolaj Znaider is one of those many musicians whose discs I used to hear being played when I worked at Tower Records; at that time, I was still very much immersed in opera and ballet, and I rarely focused on symphonic or chamber music. So now I am making up for lost time, and hearing Mr. Znaider perform live tonight for the first time was genuinely enjoyable.

The violinist is very tall, with courtly manners to the fore as he kissed the hands of violinists Sheryl Staples and Michelle Kim after his triumphant performance of the Beethoven.

The music begins with five soft beats on the kettledrum; this leads to a rather long opening ‘prelude’, commencing in the winds and flowing onward to the violins. Mr. Znaider’s entrance really pricked up my ears, for his timbre is quite striking. My first thought was that his sound had a trace of astringency, a piquant tartness that gives it a particular appeal. As the concerto progressed, his playing took on a silvery aspect. Clarity of articulation and a mastery of dynamics are among Znaider’s most appealing gifts, and – greatly needed in the Beethoven – the control and tonal sheen he displayed in the highest range is really impressive. He also showed off a deliciously shimmering trill.

High, plaintive themes are poignantly set forth, whilst there is a flowing naturalness in his scale passages. Using the Kreisler cadenzas, Mr. Znaider arrived at one of his most compelling moments: a series of trills on various pitches, honed down in the end to a whisper. I must mention here, too, the expressive playing from Kim Laskowski’s bassoon.

Displaying a full range of degrees of piano/pianissimo playing, made Mr. Znaider’s performance in the playing of the Larghetto was truly captivating. Again, roses for Ms. Laskowski – in fact, there was page after page of lovely playing from all the Philharmonic artists under Maestro Fischer’s gentle baton. As Mr. Znaider spun out a long melodic line over plucked strings, his superb control of pianissimo nuances was outstanding.

As the final Rondo: Allegro rolls forward, we are are treated to further adventures as Mr. Znaider continues to explore a vast dynamic range; conductor and ensemble are with him every step of the way, with the brilliant conclusion prompting an immediate and fervent response from the audience. The violinist seemed genuinely pleased with the warm reception, his hand-to-heart gesture sending the affection back to the cheering crowd whilst the musicians onstage applauded him vigorously. A subtly played Bach encore, offered up with captivating delicacy and grace, drew the audience even deeper into Znaider’s artistry.

Above: Iván Fischer, in a Marco Borggreve portrait

The Dvořák 8th symphony abounds in folkish themes and ‘nature’ sounds that summon up visions of the Czech countryside, and I truly enjoyed Maestro Fischer’s interpretation in every regard. Robert Langevin’s flute solo early on was a limpid delight, and soon oboist Liang Wang and clarinetist Anthony McGill were piping up with sweetly evocative birdcalls. Phil Myers’ signature “big horn” sound was at its most congenial tonight, and the cellos sounded warmly lyrical.

The symphony’s most familiar theme comes in the Adagio as flute and oboe entwine and then send the melody forward to tonight’s concertmaster Sheryl Staples who shapes the phrases with silken assurance. Things turn rousing; the proverbial “big theme” embraces us. Trumpets sound, and then things recede to a gracious clarinet duo which eventually fades away.

An amiable waltz looms up in the Allegro graziosa, and Liang Wang’s oboe leads off some brief wind passages that move from voice to voice. An expansive song emerges, then the waltz re-bounds. An unusual coda concludes the movement.

Trumpet fanfares introduce the symphony’s finale; a handsome cello tutti leads to a proud dance and Mr. Langevin’s flute replies to the cellos with a variation on their theme. The other wind soloists have their final say before a grand acceleration speeds the symphony to its end. The audience seemed really taken with the entire concert, and the applause was generous and sincere.

To me, it was a perfect evening; my friend Dmitry was less enthusiastic, having some issues with tempi in the Beethoven and transitions in the Dvořák. His familiarity with the symphonic and chamber repertoire vastly surpasses my own, for he was immersed in the Mahler symphonies and Beethoven quartets while the first half-century of my musical ‘career’ was almost exclusively devoted to opera. But for all that, tonight’s concert was an unalloyed pleasure for me and left me in a really good mood.

November 25, 2016
NY Philharmonic Ensembles: International Feast

Above: The New York Philharmonic’s principal oboist Liang Wang

Sunday November 20th, 2016 – Music by French, Russian, German, and English composers was on offer this afternoon as a stellar ensemble of players from The New York Philharmonic took the stage at Merkin Hall. The group included some of the orchestra’s principals; the playing was divine, and all four works on the program were new to me.

The matinee opened with the String Trio of Jean Françaix, composed in 1933. Françaix was a child prodigy, writing his first music at age 6 and being published at age 10. His String Trio exemplifies the Neo-classical style which was enjoying favor at the time he wrote it; it consists of four movements, two of which are played with the strings muted. The excellent players – Shanshan Yao (violin), Peter Kenote (viola), and Qiang Tu (cello) – were clearly having a good time with this music, and their enjoyment was transmitted to the audience, who seemed quite taken with the piece.

The opening Allegretto vivo is a witty conversation among the three players; it has a gentle sway and a touch of jazz. With the musical lines in a state of perpetual motion, there is a sense of delicate charm in play. The following Scherzo – un-muted – is a sprightly dance played with a breezy ‘je ne sais quoi‘ quality. Plucking motifs and changes of pace eventually lead to a congenial if quirky waltz. The mutes are on for the Andante, which commences with wistful harmonies. Ms. Yao leads off with a sweet/sad song, taken up by Qiang Tu’s savorable cello and then by Mr. Kenote’s warm-toned viola: so lovely to hear each voice in succession. In a return to C-major, with the mutes set aside again, the lively start of the finale has an effervescent feeling (Mr. Kenote, in his opening remarks, spoke of a cancan). Things slow down a bit, with the violin playing over a plucked accompaniment. The pace then reaches sizzling speed, subsiding to lethargy before re-bounding to briskness and an actual march before vanishing on a surprisingly soft pizzicato. Such a fun piece!

Living in Paris in 1924, Sergei Prokofiev accepted a commission to compose a ballet for a touring troupe; the director asked for a short work for five instruments with a simple plot revolving around life with the circus. Prokofiev produced a quintet for the players the director had on hand: oboe, clarinet, violin, viola, and double bass. The ballet’s title was Trapeze. Since assembling this particular complement of instruments isn’t always easy, the work is not often performed; hearing it today made me wonder what the choreography would have been like.

Drawing from the Philharmonic roster, the instrumentation was handily (and expertly) filled out by a lively group of players, led by Anna Rabinova (violin), with Vivek Kamath (viola), Blake Hinson (bass – he also introduced the work) and wind virtuosos Sherry Sylar (oboe) and Pascual Martinez Forteza (clarinet).

The music definitely has a ‘circus’ atmosphere. A feeling of urban bustle with a slightly Mid-Eastern tinge pervades the opening movement, with oboe and clarinet vying phrase for phrase; the viola and then the violin join the fun, and the bass induces a lumbering motif. The music stalls, and turns pensive before bursting into a fast, flashy dance with violin screeching at us. The striding bass returns us to the opening oboe theme.

In the second movement, the bass growls at us and there’s an off-kilter feeling. The clarinet moves from burbling sounds to straightforward song; discord resolves into a major chord. The third movement, with a steady pacing, finds the clarinet and oboe trading sound-bytes; a swirling turbulence ensues.

In the fourth movement, an Adagio, the oboe sounds a bit ominous; the clarinet trills, the violin shivers, the bass creeps about. A violin melody melds into a dense tutti, with the oboe prominent. The plucking bass introduces the light-hearted fifth movement, with ironic gestures from the clarinet and oboe. The strings pluck and slash before Mr. Forteza’s clarinet polishes things off in fine style.

The final Andantino is whimsically dirge-like; there are clarinet cascades and the oboe gets insistent; the tread of the bass signals a minuet reprise. Suddenly alarms sound, and the piece rumbles raucously to a sudden end.

Several pages of Beethoven’s Quintet in E-flat major (originally penned in 1793) had gone missing by the time Leopold Zellner took up the task of ‘resuscitating’ it in 1862. Zellner relied strictly on the material evidence he found in Beethoven’s drafts in preparing a performing edition.

This work utilizes another off-beat assemblage of instruments: three horns, oboe, and bassoon. The horns – Richard Deane, R Allen Spanjer, and Howard Wall – enter in turn; their music veers from jaunty to Autumnal mellowness. As the work progressed, it became evident that the oboe was taking the most prominent position in terms of melodic opportunity: Liang Wang, the Philharmonic’s principal oboist, demonstrated both his striking virtuosity and his coloristic phrasing throughout the piece. Kim Laskowski’s bassoon seemed mostly limited to echo effects and to joining the horns; I kept hoping for a paragraph from her, but only a few phrases peeked thru the full-bodied sound of the horns.

A horn chorale initiates the Adagio maestoso, with the oboe again very much to the fore – and so attractively played by Mr. Wang. The concluding Minuetto begins brightly and brings us some really rich horn blends. Mr. Wang’s playing was exceptional, and it was a real pleasure to watch and hear him play his extended role here this afternoon, after so often enjoying his solo moments in the big repertory at Geffen Hall.

The Philharmonic’s principal horn, Philip Myers, introduced the concluding work – Ralph Vaughan Williams’ D-major Quintet – with a genuinely amusing speech in which he lamented the relative scarcity of chamber works featuring the horn and spoke of how he seized on the opportunity to play the Vaughan Williams today…which he did, to perfection.

Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Quintet in D-major had been withdrawn from circulation by the composer. He instructed his first wife not to publish it, but his second wife went ahead and did so, and thus we have this unusual work to enjoy today, more than a century after its premiere.

A deluxe quintet of Philharmonic artists gathered to perform the piece: alongside the resplendent sound of Mr. Myers’ horn, principal Anthony McGill’s clarinet playing was simply dazzling; violinist Lisa Kim (violin) and cellist Eileen Moon (my artistic crush) seized on the string passages to fine effect, whilst John Novacek underscored the ensemble beautifully from the keyboard, and relished his solo moments with some very cordial playing.

The four-movement quintet opens with an Allegro moderato initiated by clarinet and piano. A rolling theme for the ensemble sets up a round-robin of voices: piano, violin, clarinet, a horn summons, and cello speak up in turn. Things turn big and emphatic, and Phil Myers’ lush playing here was really grand, with Mr. Novacek ideally supportive. Cello, violin, and clarinet have another say before a shimmering motif from Mr. Novacek and a sustained phrase from Mr. Myers bring the movement to a close.

The second movement takes the form of an intermezzo; it has the feel of a Viennese waltz. Ms. Moon’s cello blends with the piano; later, Myers and McGill play in unison as the music sails on, with the piano taking up the waltz while Ms. Kim plays elegantly, incorporating a brief cadenza.

The velvety sound of the Myers horn sets up the Andantino, with Mr. Novacek’s evocative playing and another lovely passage from Ms. Kim leading into a melodic outpouring from all the voices. Fanfare-like motifs sound forth, and then a rich blending of timbres to savor. The horn plays over a rolling cello figure, and the music turns quite grand. Clarinet and violin descend, and the horn and piano glow gorgeously in a nostalgic theme.

The final Allegro molto induces toe-tapping from note one. Big horn-playing reigns, the clarinet and violin lead a merry dance, and a McGill cadenza with a perky trill delights us before the quintet reaches its boisterous end.

The Repertory:

FRANÇAIX – String Trio
PROKOFIEV – Quintet in G minor for Oboe, Clarinet, Violin, Viola, and Double Bass
BEETHOVEN – Quintet in E-flat major for Oboe, Three Horns, and Bassoon
VAUGHAN WILLIAMS – Quintet in D major for Clarinet, Horn, Violin, Cello, and Piano

The Participating Artists:

Richard Deane, horn

Pascual Martínez Forteza, clarinet

Blake Hinson, bass

Vivek Kamath, viola

Peter Kenote, viola

Lisa Kim, violin

Kim Laskowski, bassoon

Anthony McGill, clarinet

Eileen Moon, cello

Philip Myers, horn

John Novacek, piano

Anna Rabinova, violin

R. Allen Spanjer, horn

Sherry Sylar, oboe

Qiang Tu, cello

Howard Wall, horn

Liang Wang, oboe

Shanshan Yao, violin

November 21, 2016
Cynthia Phelps|Jaap van Zweden|NY Phil

Saturday November 19th, 2016 – Even before I started going to The New York Philharmonic faithfully, I was a fan of Cynthia Phelps (above) from her work with Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Tonight, Ms. Phelps was center-stage at Geffen Hall, playing a brand new viola concerto by composer Julia Adolphe. The program further featured works by two of my extreme favorite composers – Wagner and Tchaikovsky – and was conducted by the Philharmonic’s Music Director designate, Jaap van Zweden.

It has been ten years since The Metropolitan Opera last performed LOHENGRIN, and I for one have really missed it; I was grateful tonight for the opportunity to hear the opera’s Act I prelude, and – under Maestro van Zweden’s baton – the artists of the Philharmonic gave it a stunning performance.

Wagner wrote of the prelude as being a depiction of the descent of the Holy Grail to Earth; it opens on high, with ethereal violins, and the rapture slowly spreads from one section of the orchestra to another, creating a sonic glow. At the very end, a return to the stratosphere with a pianissimo whisper from the violins leaves us breathless. Maestro van Zweden molded the piece lovingly, controlling the layerings of sound to perfection and creating an organic whole. It is simply an astonishing and unique piece of music.

Cynthia Phelps, gowned in blue, then took the stage to a warm welcome for Julia Adolphe’s viola concerto; entitled Unearth, Release, the concerto is in three movements, each being sub-titled. The first is Captive Voices, and it opens on a mysterious note with the viola playing in the low register. The composer employs a variety of percussion effects, and here the vibraphone sounds eerily. The viola remains unsettled – as if talking to itself – and then rises slowly out of the depths. A brief shimmer in the violins, a gong resonates ominously, and then the music turns big and cinematic; bells sound, the horns give voice, and magically the harp enters the mix: the concerto’s most intriguing passage – for viola and harp in a pinging dialogue – ensues. An odd, probably sub-conscious quote from LA FORZA DEL DESTINO pricked up my ear; deep, sustained notes from Ms. Phelps, and then her line rises to mingle with the harp again as the music fades into air.

The second movement, Surface Tension, begins with an animated, scurrying passage. The viola is kept busy against shifting rhythmic patterns from the orchestra until the movement comes to an abrupt halt. The dreamlike opening of the third movement, Embracing Mist, features Frank Huang’s violin playing on high. The viola rises, and the cabasa makes a somewhat creepy appearance. Trumpet and English horn speak up before the music turns more expansive, over-lain by a brief horn duet. Ms. Phelps’s viola whispers to us one last time.

The concerto has a darkling appeal, and Ms. Phelps’ playing of it is first-rate; it has the potential to become a vehicle for violists worldwide. The composer took a bow, and the Philharmonic audience – always so responsive when a player from the home team takes a soloist role – showered Ms. Phelps with affection.

Maestro van Zweden (above, in a Marco Borggreve portrait) and the Philharmonic players then gave a thrilling rendering of Tchaikovsky’s 4th symphony. From the opening fanfares, the performance was marked by big, passionate playing whilst jewel-like moments from the various solo voices emerged along the way to delight us. During the course of the first movement, my admiration for Maestro van Zweden became unbounded: his very animated podium personality and his brilliant alternation of jabs, lures, and summonses as he cued the various players was simply delightful to behold. Among the most cordial passages were an alternation of violins vs winds over timpani, and big playing from the horns; flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, and horn soloists shone forth. The music excited us thru its sense of urgency.

Liang Wang’s evocative playing of the oboe solo that opens the second movement was a high point of the performance; in this Andantino, very much à la Russe, the wind soloists again flourished in each opportunity the composer provides.

The dazzling unison plucking of the strings in the Scherzo was vividly crisp and clear tonight, with the Maestro’s fingertip control of the volume sometimes honed the sound down to a delicate pianissimo whilst maintaining the lively atmosphere. Oboe and flute again sing appealingly.

A grand, wild start to the concluding Allegro con fuoco established immediately the fact that Maestro van Zweden was taking the designation “con fuoco” (“fiery”) very much to heart. The orchestra simply blazed away, a mighty conflagration that dazzled the audience in no uncertain terms. As the symphony reached its fantastical conclusion, the Geffen Hall audience burst into unrestrained shouts of approval and gales of applause: everyone stood up to cheer. Maestro van Zweden returned and signaled the musicians to rise, but instead they remained seated and joined in the applause, giving the conductor a solo bow. The audience loved it.

An evening, then, that moved from the spiritual to the exhilarating, superbly played, and with a Maestro from whom, it seems clear, we can expect great things.

November 19, 2016
Frank Huang Plays Bruch @ The NY Phil

Thursday October 27th, 2016 – The New York Philharmonic‘s concertmaster, Frank Huang (above), dazzled the audience at Geffen Hall tonight with his playing of Bruch’s first violin concerto; the highly enjoyable program also featured works by Bartók and Dvořák; Pablo Heras-Casado was on the podium.

Béla Bartók’s Dance Suite opened the evening. These delightful dancing miniatures display the composer’s signature inventiveness in terms of colour and rhythm whilst providing numerous opportunities for individual players to shine: it’s a wonder they are not programmed more often. Maestro Heras-Casado seemed to have the lilt and sweep of the music in his blood, and the orchestra gave a vibrant performance every dance-step of the way.

Written in 1923, the suite is listed as being in six movements, though they seem – with a brief pause here or there – to flow into one another. A droll bassoon theme starts things off; the horns sound and the string players tap their bows on their instruments. Big energy develops, only to subside. Lovely passage for violins and harp, the clarinet interjects, and a merry jogging sets forth. Ear-tingling combinations – oboe and bass clarinet, flute and harp – keep cropping up, as do the piano and celesta. A wind choir leads into a high violin passage (Sheryl Staples, tonight’s concertmaster) and when things turn dreamy, Cynthia Phelps’ viola mingles with the harp. Big brass plunges in, and the music takes on a bouncing swagger.

This suite made an outstanding impression. I do regret that I cannot name the individual players of the various solo wind passages; tonight more than ever I wished these sections of the orchestra were on risers so we could watch them as they play. I did get a glimpse of Liang Wang, who played the numerous Bartok solo phrases with his customary clarity and warmth…wonderful!

Mr. Huang then appeared for the Bruch. We are accustomed to seeing him as a somewhat reserved figure in his role of concertmaster; stepping into soloist mode, Mr. Huang becomes very animated, bending and swaying as the music impels him. His passionate performance was captivating both to hear and to watch.

A recording of the Bruch #1 was the first non-operatic CD I ever bought – paired with the Barber concerto, and played by Anne Akiko Myers. The Bruch was thus familiar to me well before I ever ventured to listen to the Tchaikovsky, Sibelius, or Beethoven concerti; and this evening’s performance – my first time experiencing it live – reminded me of what a great piece it is.

From the concerto’s initial rising solo passage, Mr. Huang’s tone was most alluring: lustrous at all dynamic levels, and displaying a sensuous quality which he allowed to permeate the music in just the right measure, at just the right moments. A sentimental melody gives way to a filigree of rising trills, and a blend with horn is simply gorgeous. Rising and descending scales from the violin develop into a sweeping orchestral passage. A two-part cadenza and the poignant melody that follows found Mr. Huang at his most persuasive. Excellent!

The Prelude has flowed directly into the Adagio, making a very long ‘play’ for the soloist, and causing the composer to wonder if he ought not refer to the whole work a fantasy rather than a concerto. He was persuaded otherwise by the great violinist Joseph Joachim.

In the concluding Allegro energico, Mr. Huang took up the familiar dancelike theme with a nice gypsy swing; decorative threads of coloratura were un-spooled by the violinist with elegant virtuosity, his tone ever-lovely and his articulation showing effortless clarity. The audience, one of the most attentive in recent memory, were clearly much taken with Mr. Huang’s performance: vociferous bravos filled the hall from the moment the concerto ended, and at his solo bow the whole house stood up and cheered whilst his colleagues onstage joined enthusiastically in the ovation.

Following the interval, Maestro Haras-Casado (above) and the players treated us to an outstanding performance of the Dvořák 7th. This familiar work seemed fresh and vital this evening, with plenty of expert solo playing along the way – though the horns were running hot-and-cold throughout. The big, yearning theme of the first movement was especially pleasing to hear tonight, as was the woodwind chorale over plucking strings in the Adagio. Things turn blithe in the folk-dance flavor of the Scherzo, but the composer turns more pensive again as the Finale commences. The rise of a Slavonic march, and the taking up of a new, lyrical theme, led onward to the symphony’s optimistic conclusion.

October 27, 2016