Today’s concert was a classic piano recital. Quynh Ngyuen played seven pieces. The first half of the program was the Sonata No. 30 in E Major, Op 109 (Beethoven) and Scherzo No. 4 in E Major, Op. 54 (Chopin)—rather straightforward, except they weren’t.
The Beethoven barely seemed like Beethoven to begin with—the first movement oddly disjunctive, the second movement more Beethoven-esque (slightly dense, more solid)—followed by a third movement that was a bit segmented.
The Scherzo was not your drawing-room, wispy Chopin. This was a strong composition with strong playing. The playing throughout the afternoon was admirable. The Scherzo started nicely, followed by a singing middle section, and finishing with a strong recapitulation.
Part II of the concert was a Sondheim dream. Chopin – Ballade No. 3 in A-flat Major, Op. 47; Grande valse brilliante, in E-flat Major, Op. 18; and Valse brilliante, Op. 34, No. 1 in A-flat Major. Whew! Followed by La Valse (Ravel).
Ballade = Ballad of Sweeney Todd; valse/Valse/La Valse = A Little Night Music.
The Ballade was a nicely rounded, fully composed work, played very well. Les deux Chopin valses were almost Miss America fodder—lots of technique, very, very brisk tempos, with a very few (very minor) flubbed fingerings. This is not a dis; just my reaction to the actual performance in a concert hall situation.
These waltzes are audience favorites and I (along with the rest of the audience) enjoyed them tremendously. Just my suggestions re. performance style.
Ravel’s La Valse took us into a new realm. My scribbled notes say, “darker, less showy (in general), but still filled with difficulty; almost mystical; toward the end feeling almost diabolical, leading into madness.” I stand by that. I also think that Richard Rodgers may have tapped into Ravel for some parts of his Carousel Waltz.
Ms. Nguyen’s well-deserved encore was folk song–based in honor of the Lunar New Year of the Dragon.
ConcertMeister
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Charlie Porter Jazz Quartet
A new venue for me, the Bronx Library Center, and sort of a new genre, jazz. I’m not a huge jazz aficionado, but I do like to broaden my horizons. This quartet—Charlie Porter, Trumpet | Adam Birnbaum, Piano | Scott Ritchie, Bass | Jon Wilkan, Drums—turned out to be just the type of jazz I like. Somewhat exploratory; somewhat traditional; not too frantic; not overbearing.
Compositions included a (not-yet-named) tribute to Thelonious Monk (Porter), “Morning Glory” (Duke Ellington), a Freddie Hubbard tune (transcribed, from listening to a record, by Mr. Porter), “Your Slightest Wish” (Robin Hood, né Russ Robinson, Mr. Porter’s girlfriend’s grandfather—are you still with me?), a couple more tunes, finishing with “It Don’t Mean a Thing … .” Yes, the audience was encouraged to “doo-wah, doo-wah, doo-wah,” etc.
I liked all of the playing. A lot of it was warm, not overpowering sound, and Mr. Porter was pretty natural and low key in his song introductions and explaining things to the audience like his buzz mute. It’s a combination of a cup mute and a kazoo (I’m not making this up, you know!). He held the stage when he needed to, yet ceded it to the others to make sure everyone had a spot in the limelight. I especially liked the Ellington piece since it had more of a “tune” than the first two pieces, which had a sort of through-composed, rambling quality that is probably the norm for some jazz compositions, but is not yet part of my jazz knowledge.
Going back to the first piece on the program, it and several others were being given their first performances. You’d never know it from the smooth give-and-take among the players. Once again, that could just be a hallmark of good jazz—and I’m pretty convinced that what I heard today was good jazz.
I have to include a shout out to the Bronx Library Center, the Carnegie Hall Neighborhood Concert Series (a great program, in and of itself), and Target (as the corporate sponsor for the CHNC Series). A cold, snowy day; a trip to the Bronx; and warm (well, cool) jazz. Explore what’s out there, kiddos. I am.
ConcertMeister
Compositions included a (not-yet-named) tribute to Thelonious Monk (Porter), “Morning Glory” (Duke Ellington), a Freddie Hubbard tune (transcribed, from listening to a record, by Mr. Porter), “Your Slightest Wish” (Robin Hood, né Russ Robinson, Mr. Porter’s girlfriend’s grandfather—are you still with me?), a couple more tunes, finishing with “It Don’t Mean a Thing … .” Yes, the audience was encouraged to “doo-wah, doo-wah, doo-wah,” etc.
I liked all of the playing. A lot of it was warm, not overpowering sound, and Mr. Porter was pretty natural and low key in his song introductions and explaining things to the audience like his buzz mute. It’s a combination of a cup mute and a kazoo (I’m not making this up, you know!). He held the stage when he needed to, yet ceded it to the others to make sure everyone had a spot in the limelight. I especially liked the Ellington piece since it had more of a “tune” than the first two pieces, which had a sort of through-composed, rambling quality that is probably the norm for some jazz compositions, but is not yet part of my jazz knowledge.
Going back to the first piece on the program, it and several others were being given their first performances. You’d never know it from the smooth give-and-take among the players. Once again, that could just be a hallmark of good jazz—and I’m pretty convinced that what I heard today was good jazz.
I have to include a shout out to the Bronx Library Center, the Carnegie Hall Neighborhood Concert Series (a great program, in and of itself), and Target (as the corporate sponsor for the CHNC Series). A cold, snowy day; a trip to the Bronx; and warm (well, cool) jazz. Explore what’s out there, kiddos. I am.
ConcertMeister
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?
Freebie tickets and two buses!
The Music of Karl Jenkins. Two U.S. premieres, one Carnegie Hall premiere, and one world premiere.
The Wooing of Étain; Sarikiz (violin concerto); Fantasy Preludes, by Carol Barratt (Mrs. Karl Jenkins); and The Peacemakers.
Mr. Jenkins is (self-touted) the world’s most-performed living composer. Maybe so, but his compositions almost entered the *easy listening* category. Yes, there were good compositional techniques; yes, they were accessible; yes, they work with broad strokes à la Andrew Lloyd Webber. And they were almost fulfilling.
Interestingly, the first works on the program were teaching devices leading up to the second half of the program. There’s nothing wrong with that—I liked that—I just thought I’d point it out. The Wooing of Étain had jazz instruments set against a chamber orchestra; Uilleann pipes (which would be featured later), soprano saxophone (a bit overbearing to these ears) and electric bass (sorry, the moment you introduce electric instruments, you have a major imbalance, IMHO).
Sarikiz featured the violinist (and concertmaster) Jorge Ávila, who would feature again in The Peacemakers. He played very well, as did the orchestra.
Carol Barratt’s nine-movement piano Fantasy Preludes were played sweetly by Danny Evans. Any one of the movements could be a stand-alone piece/encore, but they all worked well as one through-composed piece.
In the second half, the main work, The Peacemakers (70 minutes), featured texts by Nobel Peace Prize–winners the 14th Dalai Lama, Mother Teresa, Albert Schweitzer, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Nelson Mandela. Along the way, we heard texts from the Bible, Shelley, Terry Waite, Mahatma Gandhi, the ever-present Anon., St. Francis (attrib.), Ms. Barratt/Mr. Jenkins, Anne Frank, and St. Seraphim of Sarov. I kid you not.
Mr. Jenkins’ settings of all texts were very clear—usually totally linear with harmonies introduced but through-composed as if spoken, in the English-choir-school-tradition style. {Logistics alert} The *choir* was assembled from various small groups from (take a big breath) SC, MD, AZ, NY, MA, MD, UK, HI, NY, MI, Australia, UK, NC, and OH. I can only think that the conductor sent out rehearsal tapes galore, maybe had one or two rehearsals with each group, and then assembled everyone in NYC. It must have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience for a lot of those choristers. And that’s a good thing. (I’ve appeared on the stage of Carnegie, once, in a huge-chorus-orchestra extravaganza.)
The Peacemakers incorporated orchestra, choir, soprano (Antoni Mendezona (who could have chosen less noisy shoes, though her singing was very clear and precise)), Mr. Ávila, and various percussion instruments, along with the Uilleann pipes and the afore-mentioned electric bass. And tin whistles.
Overall, a great performance in a great hall. I’m very glad I was there. Thanks, Meet-Up Group!
ConcertMeister
The Music of Karl Jenkins. Two U.S. premieres, one Carnegie Hall premiere, and one world premiere.
The Wooing of Étain; Sarikiz (violin concerto); Fantasy Preludes, by Carol Barratt (Mrs. Karl Jenkins); and The Peacemakers.
Mr. Jenkins is (self-touted) the world’s most-performed living composer. Maybe so, but his compositions almost entered the *easy listening* category. Yes, there were good compositional techniques; yes, they were accessible; yes, they work with broad strokes à la Andrew Lloyd Webber. And they were almost fulfilling.
Interestingly, the first works on the program were teaching devices leading up to the second half of the program. There’s nothing wrong with that—I liked that—I just thought I’d point it out. The Wooing of Étain had jazz instruments set against a chamber orchestra; Uilleann pipes (which would be featured later), soprano saxophone (a bit overbearing to these ears) and electric bass (sorry, the moment you introduce electric instruments, you have a major imbalance, IMHO).
Sarikiz featured the violinist (and concertmaster) Jorge Ávila, who would feature again in The Peacemakers. He played very well, as did the orchestra.
Carol Barratt’s nine-movement piano Fantasy Preludes were played sweetly by Danny Evans. Any one of the movements could be a stand-alone piece/encore, but they all worked well as one through-composed piece.
In the second half, the main work, The Peacemakers (70 minutes), featured texts by Nobel Peace Prize–winners the 14th Dalai Lama, Mother Teresa, Albert Schweitzer, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Nelson Mandela. Along the way, we heard texts from the Bible, Shelley, Terry Waite, Mahatma Gandhi, the ever-present Anon., St. Francis (attrib.), Ms. Barratt/Mr. Jenkins, Anne Frank, and St. Seraphim of Sarov. I kid you not.
Mr. Jenkins’ settings of all texts were very clear—usually totally linear with harmonies introduced but through-composed as if spoken, in the English-choir-school-tradition style. {Logistics alert} The *choir* was assembled from various small groups from (take a big breath) SC, MD, AZ, NY, MA, MD, UK, HI, NY, MI, Australia, UK, NC, and OH. I can only think that the conductor sent out rehearsal tapes galore, maybe had one or two rehearsals with each group, and then assembled everyone in NYC. It must have been a once-in-a-lifetime experience for a lot of those choristers. And that’s a good thing. (I’ve appeared on the stage of Carnegie, once, in a huge-chorus-orchestra extravaganza.)
The Peacemakers incorporated orchestra, choir, soprano (Antoni Mendezona (who could have chosen less noisy shoes, though her singing was very clear and precise)), Mr. Ávila, and various percussion instruments, along with the Uilleann pipes and the afore-mentioned electric bass. And tin whistles.
Overall, a great performance in a great hall. I’m very glad I was there. Thanks, Meet-Up Group!
ConcertMeister
Saturday, January 14, 2012
The many faces of Modernity
This was a “concept” concert—a piano concert featuring images from the Library of the Performing Arts archives. A pretty good concept. The execution? Not so great. Images were chosen via a free association method, e.g., Arnold Schönberg’s music was paired with images (displayed on screen—sort of like a slide show from a recent vacation) of Vienna, composers he was influenced by, other professionals in his milieu (Freud, Franz Lehar), and works of artists he was in close contact with (Kandinsky, Klee, etc.). And the cycle of images repeated two or three times during the performance of the music.
The pianist was Zélia Chueke, who played very well throughout. Her program consisted of Drei Klavierstücke, op. 11 (Arnold Schönberg, 1874–1951); Les Soirs Illuminées par l’ardeur du charbon and Étude retrouvée (Claude Debussy, 1862–1918); Fanfarres (György Ligeti, 1923–2006); and Tapestry and Water color (Ricardo Tacuchian, b. 1939).
Not exactly household names—in fact, five people left after the first piece, one after the first Debussy, and three more during the Tacuchian.
Their loss, in my opinion.
The Schönberg was a bit angular (the onscreen Cubist images played off of that well) but was not overly offputting. The Debussy pieces (one whose manuscript was discovered in 2001, but written in 1917; the other manuscript found in the Morgan Library in 2003, written in 1915) were clear, clean evocations of late-Debussy style—washes of pianistic color, but with rather inviting forms. The Ligeti score was brief but with varied and contrasting sections. To be honest, after I’d seen the first go ’round of the slides associated with each piece, I focused more on the pianist. That was the right choice, for me.
The last two pieces were written by a composer that Ms. Chueke has a working relationship with. Apparently, Mr. Tacuchian has done some research into visual and aural input into the connections between music and the visuals. With Tapestry (2011), he was said to be exploring the shapes of the movements of creating tapestries and transforming that into his music. I didn’t make that much of a connection. Water color (2001) began with a wash of sound that one would associate with watercolors, but included some dense passages as well, all the more impressive since the piece was composed for the left hand only. (That was in the program notes, but I was reminded of it when I focused on the pianist after the first round of slides and saw her right hand at her side.)
Curious about that, I asked her after the concert (questions were, indeed, encouraged). It turns out that it was written for a pianist who could only play with his left hand. But by the time it was completed, he was no longer performing as a pianist (he had become a conductor), and Ms. Chueke gave the world premiere. Pretty cool—and I never would have known if I hadn’t asked!
ConcertMeister
The pianist was Zélia Chueke, who played very well throughout. Her program consisted of Drei Klavierstücke, op. 11 (Arnold Schönberg, 1874–1951); Les Soirs Illuminées par l’ardeur du charbon and Étude retrouvée (Claude Debussy, 1862–1918); Fanfarres (György Ligeti, 1923–2006); and Tapestry and Water color (Ricardo Tacuchian, b. 1939).
Not exactly household names—in fact, five people left after the first piece, one after the first Debussy, and three more during the Tacuchian.
Their loss, in my opinion.
The Schönberg was a bit angular (the onscreen Cubist images played off of that well) but was not overly offputting. The Debussy pieces (one whose manuscript was discovered in 2001, but written in 1917; the other manuscript found in the Morgan Library in 2003, written in 1915) were clear, clean evocations of late-Debussy style—washes of pianistic color, but with rather inviting forms. The Ligeti score was brief but with varied and contrasting sections. To be honest, after I’d seen the first go ’round of the slides associated with each piece, I focused more on the pianist. That was the right choice, for me.
The last two pieces were written by a composer that Ms. Chueke has a working relationship with. Apparently, Mr. Tacuchian has done some research into visual and aural input into the connections between music and the visuals. With Tapestry (2011), he was said to be exploring the shapes of the movements of creating tapestries and transforming that into his music. I didn’t make that much of a connection. Water color (2001) began with a wash of sound that one would associate with watercolors, but included some dense passages as well, all the more impressive since the piece was composed for the left hand only. (That was in the program notes, but I was reminded of it when I focused on the pianist after the first round of slides and saw her right hand at her side.)
Curious about that, I asked her after the concert (questions were, indeed, encouraged). It turns out that it was written for a pianist who could only play with his left hand. But by the time it was completed, he was no longer performing as a pianist (he had become a conductor), and Ms. Chueke gave the world premiere. Pretty cool—and I never would have known if I hadn’t asked!
ConcertMeister
Friday, January 13, 2012
Chasing Rainbows — The Songs of Judy Garland
Happy New Year, folks!
This was my first concert of 2012 and I’m really glad I went. Packed house. Judy’s still a draw, even after all these years. This was a one-woman bio-concert—songs associated with Ms. Garland, performed with patter/book outlining the high (and low) spots of her career. The stylist, and I use that term affectionately, was Karen Luschar. First off, I wish Ms. Luschar’s voice had been better. It wasn’t bad, but there was a distinct break between chest voice (think belting) and head voice. Without any transition area, parts of the songs were a bit too jarring. That said, I kept getting drawn in to the performance (with piano, bass, and drums).
The first half covered the early years: born in a trunk, vaudeville (as part of the Gumm Sisters), opening medley; the M-G-M years, including “Zing Went the Strings of My Heart” as the M-G-M audition, “You Made Me Love You,” as a birthday present/celebration for Clark Gable, medley II, the “Hey, let’s put on a show!” years; plus the movie/song/starmaker, “Over the Rainbow” from The Wizard of Oz. Fortunately, Ms. Luschar was not aiming for an impersonation of Ms. Garland and wisely chose to do a stylized version of this song. It worked. Unfortunately, some of Ms. Luschar’s up-tempo-hard-sell numbers didn’t quite achieve hard-sell status. But it was great to hear “Minnie from Trinidad,” “On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe,” and “Meet Me in St. Louis,” with an audience participation singalong.
~~Intermission~~
C’mon, get happy! We did, Judy did, and Ms. Luschar did. Now we concentrated on the concert years. Along the way, we heard that Judy was under psychiatric care by age 18, we had a second reference to the pills “that M-G-M gave her,” and we heard about the various marriages and divorces. Earlier, we had also learned that Ms. Garland won a special Oscar for The Wizard of Oz—a slightly smaller version that she referred to as her “Munchkin” award. The concert years brought the concert at the Palace theater (Tony award) and the Carnegie Hall 1961 concert that garnered five Grammy Awards. At Sunday’s concert, we heard “The Man that Got Away,” “San Francisco (I Don’t Mean Frisco)”, and “Hello Bluebird,” among others.
In what was usually a pick-a-guy-from-the-audience moment, we had an “only in New York, kids” moment. Ms. Luschar brought Jerry Stiller up onto the stage. Yes, that Jerry Stiller. They had some banter and then she involved him in a couple of tunes—“A Foggy Day in London Town,” and “Embraceable You” with a sweet little dance break.
Ms. Luschar channeled Judy by sitting at the edge of the stage and engaging the audience with a stylized version of “Stormy Weather.” Then a rousing finish.
With all its faults, I loved it still. There were many more songs, song snippets, biographical nuggets—too numerous to mention. But I had a very good time. Another openin’ of another year. Drop me a note if there’s something you’d rather hear more (or less) of. Attach a comment or email me at dmconcertmeister@gmail.com.
ConcertMeister
This was my first concert of 2012 and I’m really glad I went. Packed house. Judy’s still a draw, even after all these years. This was a one-woman bio-concert—songs associated with Ms. Garland, performed with patter/book outlining the high (and low) spots of her career. The stylist, and I use that term affectionately, was Karen Luschar. First off, I wish Ms. Luschar’s voice had been better. It wasn’t bad, but there was a distinct break between chest voice (think belting) and head voice. Without any transition area, parts of the songs were a bit too jarring. That said, I kept getting drawn in to the performance (with piano, bass, and drums).
The first half covered the early years: born in a trunk, vaudeville (as part of the Gumm Sisters), opening medley; the M-G-M years, including “Zing Went the Strings of My Heart” as the M-G-M audition, “You Made Me Love You,” as a birthday present/celebration for Clark Gable, medley II, the “Hey, let’s put on a show!” years; plus the movie/song/starmaker, “Over the Rainbow” from The Wizard of Oz. Fortunately, Ms. Luschar was not aiming for an impersonation of Ms. Garland and wisely chose to do a stylized version of this song. It worked. Unfortunately, some of Ms. Luschar’s up-tempo-hard-sell numbers didn’t quite achieve hard-sell status. But it was great to hear “Minnie from Trinidad,” “On the Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe,” and “Meet Me in St. Louis,” with an audience participation singalong.
~~Intermission~~
C’mon, get happy! We did, Judy did, and Ms. Luschar did. Now we concentrated on the concert years. Along the way, we heard that Judy was under psychiatric care by age 18, we had a second reference to the pills “that M-G-M gave her,” and we heard about the various marriages and divorces. Earlier, we had also learned that Ms. Garland won a special Oscar for The Wizard of Oz—a slightly smaller version that she referred to as her “Munchkin” award. The concert years brought the concert at the Palace theater (Tony award) and the Carnegie Hall 1961 concert that garnered five Grammy Awards. At Sunday’s concert, we heard “The Man that Got Away,” “San Francisco (I Don’t Mean Frisco)”, and “Hello Bluebird,” among others.
In what was usually a pick-a-guy-from-the-audience moment, we had an “only in New York, kids” moment. Ms. Luschar brought Jerry Stiller up onto the stage. Yes, that Jerry Stiller. They had some banter and then she involved him in a couple of tunes—“A Foggy Day in London Town,” and “Embraceable You” with a sweet little dance break.
Ms. Luschar channeled Judy by sitting at the edge of the stage and engaging the audience with a stylized version of “Stormy Weather.” Then a rousing finish.
With all its faults, I loved it still. There were many more songs, song snippets, biographical nuggets—too numerous to mention. But I had a very good time. Another openin’ of another year. Drop me a note if there’s something you’d rather hear more (or less) of. Attach a comment or email me at dmconcertmeister@gmail.com.
ConcertMeister
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