Sunday, the 26th, brought a Casavant Organ 50th Birthday celebration. Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church’s organ was dedicated on March 4, 1962.
Sunday’s concert was part celebration on its own and part homage to the original concert. The concert included the Suite in G major for Strings & Organ (1905), Ottorino Respighi, (1879–1936); Concerto for Organ, Strings & Timpani, Francis Poulenc (1899–1963)*; “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God”*; How Lovely Is Thy Dwelling Place, Johannes Brahms (1833–1897)*; Worship the Lord, Op. 59, No. 2 (1959), Seth Bingham (1882–1972); and Three Canticles of Isaiah (2011), John Weaver (b. 1937).
*Pieces performed on the 1962 concert.
The principals included Andrew Henderson, Mary Huff, and John Weaver (organists and conductors). As a disclosure, I point out that I am personally acquainted with all three principals (indeed, I sang in Dr. Weaver’s choir for a brief spell in the late 1980s), and I accepted a comp ticket to the concert.
That said, I had a wonderful time. The Respighi (Ms. Huff at the organ, Dr. Henderson conducting) was a four-movement work that nicely balanced the organ and the strings. I was aware, as I would be throughout the afternoon, that the organ really can be a team player.
The Poulenc. I’ve heard snippets of recordings–I may have heard full recordings–but I’d never heard it live, until Sunday (Dr. Henderson at the organ, with Ms. Huff conducting; why yes! it was musical benches and podiums). The piece opens with alternating organ phrases and string/timpani phrases–not always equal or related, but building to something new. There were a few instances of what a friend of mine has called “creepy-crawly–French chords,” and there were many instances of the organ being allowed to shine, before once again joining the team. Many dance-like rhythms in a thoroughly exciting piece.
After intermission, we added the choral mix (inside joke), with Dr. Weaver conducting. The Brahms “How Lovely” from Ein Deutsches Requiem was, in a word, lovely. A straightforward performance with the added bonus of a flute added into the mix, played by Marianne Weaver. The Bingham anthem was a reference to a different Bingham anthem performed at the 1962 concert (Mr. Bingham was organist at MAPC until 1951). This work was being given (we think) its NY premiere, thanks to parts being copied out from the NY Public library (it’s a great city I live in!). I liked the work–it laid out the text and tune, then spun out a few variants on that.
In the same vein, Dr. Weaver’s composition (world premiere) mirrored having a new piece on the concert composed by a Music Director Emeritus. His three-movement work opened joyfully (but included contrasting sections), with call-and-response sections reminiscent of African-American spirituals, then morphing into a truly American spiritual. Very effective. All of these once again reinforced the organ (which would normally be the only accompaniment to these works) as a team player. I can’t stress that enough.
The very well-written notes on the organ and its restoration included a great deal of information on how the restoring process works and why. One point of interest for me was information about the cleaning and re-leathering of the pipes in order to prevent ciphers. Ciphers occur when the organist stops playing but the organ doesn’t. (The mechanism does not close properly, so the sound continues.) Sometimes the cipher can be “knocked” out by manipulating the key on the keyboard; sometimes the organ must be powered down and/or someone (usually the assistant organist) has to climb into the works and make a physical adjustment. The last time I heard the MAPC Casavant Frères organ, in 2008, it did cipher. In 2012, it did not.
Happy birthday; here’s to another 50 years.
Another note of interest: Dr. Henderson at one point asked if there was anyone at the concert who had been at the 1962 concert. There were several. I spoke with one after the concert (a church member I also know) who said not only was she there, she sang in the original concert. Only in New York, kids! (With a shout-out to Cindy Adams.)
ConcertMeister
p.s. This is the first time I've ever used a "Doodle Pad for Young Presbyterians" to take notes. I hope God doesn't mind that I'm neither young nor Presbyterian. I don't think I broke a commandment.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Music Ed
Sunday’s concert featured the Con Brio Ensemble—Paul Roczek, violin; Hamilton Berry, cello; and Diana Mittler-Battipaglia, piano.
There were three works on the program—Sonata in D Major, Op. 94 for Violin and Piano, Sergei Prokofiev (1891–1953); Sonata in E minor, Op. 38 for Cello and Piano, Johannes Brahms (1833–1897); and Trio in E minor “Dumky” Op. 90, Antonin Dvořák (1841–1904). And no, there will not be a test.
First off, kudos to Mr. Berry for filling in for the scheduled cellist, who had to withdraw due to an injury. I’m unsure whether that affected rehearsal time, but his playing was great throughout. Ms. Mittler-Battipaglia and Mr. Rozcek were also in fine form.
The Prokofiev Sonata (Moderato, Allegretto scherzando, Andante, Allegro con brio) had shifting moods in the first movement, shifting rhythms in the second, in the third, a sort of wandering of the piano/violin lines—seemingly away from each other yet ending together, with a real feeling of continuity in the con brio. But CM, what is con brio? It’s literally, from the Italian, with vigor. So, it’s not frantic or overboard on anything—it’s vigorous, bracing playing. And this was. Also of interest, the piece was written as a flute sonata in 1943, and then was retooled as a violin sonata in 1944. According to the program notes, it has stayed in the repertory for both instruments. And no, there will not be a test.
The Brahms Sonata (Allegro non troppo, Allegretto quasi Menuetto, Allegro) had a soulful quality in both the composition and the execution. It didn’t cross the line into mournfulness or sadness/angst, just soulful. The end of the second movement has the cellist strumming the strings á la a guitar. Again, from the program notes, “Brahms first wrote three movements of the Op. 38 sonata in 1862, but omitted a finale. In June 1865 he composed a new concluding movement and dropped the second, an Adagio, producing the present three-movement work.” And no...well, you get my drift.
Hmm, two works, so far, that ended up not quite as they set out to be.
The Dvořák Trio has six movements listed, many of which have multiple tempi, so they will not all be spelled out here. Of note, a “Dumka” (“Dumky” is the plural) is “a Slavic folk song with a pervasive melancholy or pensive quality that is relieved by sharply contrasting interludes, which range from serene to exuberant.” Indeed, this says it all, and Con Brio played the trio exactly as those program notes describe it. Con brio with a dash of melancholy and exuberance thrown into the mix. Bravo!
Have we all learned something here today?
ConcertMeister
There were three works on the program—Sonata in D Major, Op. 94 for Violin and Piano, Sergei Prokofiev (1891–1953); Sonata in E minor, Op. 38 for Cello and Piano, Johannes Brahms (1833–1897); and Trio in E minor “Dumky” Op. 90, Antonin Dvořák (1841–1904). And no, there will not be a test.
First off, kudos to Mr. Berry for filling in for the scheduled cellist, who had to withdraw due to an injury. I’m unsure whether that affected rehearsal time, but his playing was great throughout. Ms. Mittler-Battipaglia and Mr. Rozcek were also in fine form.
The Prokofiev Sonata (Moderato, Allegretto scherzando, Andante, Allegro con brio) had shifting moods in the first movement, shifting rhythms in the second, in the third, a sort of wandering of the piano/violin lines—seemingly away from each other yet ending together, with a real feeling of continuity in the con brio. But CM, what is con brio? It’s literally, from the Italian, with vigor. So, it’s not frantic or overboard on anything—it’s vigorous, bracing playing. And this was. Also of interest, the piece was written as a flute sonata in 1943, and then was retooled as a violin sonata in 1944. According to the program notes, it has stayed in the repertory for both instruments. And no, there will not be a test.
The Brahms Sonata (Allegro non troppo, Allegretto quasi Menuetto, Allegro) had a soulful quality in both the composition and the execution. It didn’t cross the line into mournfulness or sadness/angst, just soulful. The end of the second movement has the cellist strumming the strings á la a guitar. Again, from the program notes, “Brahms first wrote three movements of the Op. 38 sonata in 1862, but omitted a finale. In June 1865 he composed a new concluding movement and dropped the second, an Adagio, producing the present three-movement work.” And no...well, you get my drift.
Hmm, two works, so far, that ended up not quite as they set out to be.
The Dvořák Trio has six movements listed, many of which have multiple tempi, so they will not all be spelled out here. Of note, a “Dumka” (“Dumky” is the plural) is “a Slavic folk song with a pervasive melancholy or pensive quality that is relieved by sharply contrasting interludes, which range from serene to exuberant.” Indeed, this says it all, and Con Brio played the trio exactly as those program notes describe it. Con brio with a dash of melancholy and exuberance thrown into the mix. Bravo!
Have we all learned something here today?
ConcertMeister
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Students from the Josef Haydn Conservatory
The internet is our friend! Here’s what I found from a bit of sleuthing (the program was listed, alas, there were no program notes).
http://tinyurl.com/7mn63xv (Well, maybe not – paste link into your url bar? Yes! that does work. Who's the man?!?)
I’m going out on a limb here and guessing that most of the composers are alive and that the dates given are their b. dates. The program included (not listing everything):
Rodion Shchedrin (1932) – “Questions” Nr. 1-3
György Kurtág (1926) – “Splitter” Op. 6/2 Nr. 2
Sergej Slonimsky (1932) – “Glocken”
– Paul-Boris Kertsman (pianist)
Arnold Schönberg (1874–1951) – Drei Klavierstücke Op. 11
– Yunus Hermann (pianist)
Alberto Evaristo Ginastera (1916–1983) – “Danzas Argentinas”
-Danza del viejo boyero
-Danza de la moza donosa
-Danza del gaucho matrero
– Julian Yo Hedenborg (pianist)
Shchedrin – “Im Stile von Albéniz”
– Chang Chih-Hung (pianist) (three movements)
George Crumb (1929) – “Litany of the Galactic Bells,” “Dream Images (Love-Death Music),” “Tora! Tora! Tora! (Cadenza Apocalittica)”
– Matias Alzola (pianist)
The pianists ranged in age (my best guess) from 15 to mid-20s. Technique was very good throughout, though I found some “body language” a bit disconcerting. I understand intensity, but your nose down on the keyboard does not create intensity.
I particularly enjoyed the works that had the most recognizable forms and openness. Call me shallow {shrug}. The Slonimsky “Glocken” really rang out “bells” with clanging chords, tinkling riffs, and even the bare left hand on the bare strings of the open-topped piano. The Ginastera Danzas were just that—obvious dances, with rhythmic grace, slow gently swirling feelings (to these ears), and a real presto with shifting rhythms.
Also dance-like were the Shchedrin pieces in the style of Albéniz—Spanish flair, and recognizable forms (almost tribute-like), with interesting ideas and an extended march-style segment to close it out.
The “Galactic Bells” proved bell-like again, including Crumb’s use of open strumming of the strings inside the harp of the piano, Liszt/Chopin quotes (in the Love-Death music), and an appropriately raucous apocalyptic finish to the concert.
Austrian Cultural Forum New York, I salute you!
ConcertMeister
http://tinyurl.com/7mn63xv (Well, maybe not – paste link into your url bar? Yes! that does work. Who's the man?!?)
I’m going out on a limb here and guessing that most of the composers are alive and that the dates given are their b. dates. The program included (not listing everything):
Rodion Shchedrin (1932) – “Questions” Nr. 1-3
György Kurtág (1926) – “Splitter” Op. 6/2 Nr. 2
Sergej Slonimsky (1932) – “Glocken”
– Paul-Boris Kertsman (pianist)
Arnold Schönberg (1874–1951) – Drei Klavierstücke Op. 11
– Yunus Hermann (pianist)
Alberto Evaristo Ginastera (1916–1983) – “Danzas Argentinas”
-Danza del viejo boyero
-Danza de la moza donosa
-Danza del gaucho matrero
– Julian Yo Hedenborg (pianist)
Shchedrin – “Im Stile von Albéniz”
– Chang Chih-Hung (pianist) (three movements)
George Crumb (1929) – “Litany of the Galactic Bells,” “Dream Images (Love-Death Music),” “Tora! Tora! Tora! (Cadenza Apocalittica)”
– Matias Alzola (pianist)
The pianists ranged in age (my best guess) from 15 to mid-20s. Technique was very good throughout, though I found some “body language” a bit disconcerting. I understand intensity, but your nose down on the keyboard does not create intensity.
I particularly enjoyed the works that had the most recognizable forms and openness. Call me shallow {shrug}. The Slonimsky “Glocken” really rang out “bells” with clanging chords, tinkling riffs, and even the bare left hand on the bare strings of the open-topped piano. The Ginastera Danzas were just that—obvious dances, with rhythmic grace, slow gently swirling feelings (to these ears), and a real presto with shifting rhythms.
Also dance-like were the Shchedrin pieces in the style of Albéniz—Spanish flair, and recognizable forms (almost tribute-like), with interesting ideas and an extended march-style segment to close it out.
The “Galactic Bells” proved bell-like again, including Crumb’s use of open strumming of the strings inside the harp of the piano, Liszt/Chopin quotes (in the Love-Death music), and an appropriately raucous apocalyptic finish to the concert.
Austrian Cultural Forum New York, I salute you!
ConcertMeister
Sunday, February 12, 2012
The Poetry of Early Music through the Ages
Great title. Unfortunately—hello, winter!—the mezzo-soprano scheduled was indisposed, so there were no vocals (nor poetry), just string trio performances. It’s also most likely that there was a little less rehearsal time than planned, since the program had to be re-vamped on fairly short notice, and this did show in the actual performance.
The program:
London Trio #1 in C Major – Haydn (1732–1809)
Allegro moderato
Andante
Finale/vivace
Renaissance Gems
Flemish
Si acendero in caelum – Nicolas Craen (d. 1507)
La Bernardina – Josquin des Prez (1450–1521)
German [Das Glogauer Liederbuch] – Anon. (ca. 1480)
Die Katzenpfote
Die Seiden Schwanz
English [Jacobean Consort Music, ca. 1600]
Pavan – Anon.
Browning – Elway Bevin
Prelude and Fugue in D minor, K 401a – Mozart (1756–1791)
Organ Trio Sonata VI in G Major – J.S. Bach (1685–1750)
Vivace
Lento
Allegro
The Haydn (added to the program) was a straightforward string trio. I found some of the violin phrasing to be a little choppy, not fully played through to the end of the phrase. Minor quibble.
The Renaissance Gems had more transparent lines, somewhat imitative lines with shifting rhythms, and a lively opening with intricate interplay (Flemish); pizzicato writing (Katzenpfote, totally plucked), and joyous, celebratory, very full sound (German); with stately, strophic writing in the Pavan, and variations that were almost perpetual motion in the Browning (English/Jacobean).
The Mozart unfortunately had a train wreck three quarters of the way through the fugue. As in, grinded to a halt, and had to find a good pickup point. The players finished gamely, though. The Bach was a transcription of an organ trio with the violin (Elizabeth Miller) playing the equivalent of the organ right hand, the viola (and transcriptionist, Louise Schulman) playing the left hand, with the cello (Daire FitzGerald) playing the feet. Ask, if you want to know.
In general, the playing was very good, especially considering the last-minute changes to the program, if a little same/same (see last-minute changes, above). I really like early music, so I was a bit disappointed that the vocalist was under the weather. I was very disappointed that (yet again) a cell phone went off during the concert. Fortunately, it was between pieces, but come on, folks! If you’re going to embrace the 21st century, use common sense and common courtesy.
ConcertMeister
The program:
London Trio #1 in C Major – Haydn (1732–1809)
Allegro moderato
Andante
Finale/vivace
Renaissance Gems
Flemish
Si acendero in caelum – Nicolas Craen (d. 1507)
La Bernardina – Josquin des Prez (1450–1521)
German [Das Glogauer Liederbuch] – Anon. (ca. 1480)
Die Katzenpfote
Die Seiden Schwanz
English [Jacobean Consort Music, ca. 1600]
Pavan – Anon.
Browning – Elway Bevin
Prelude and Fugue in D minor, K 401a – Mozart (1756–1791)
Organ Trio Sonata VI in G Major – J.S. Bach (1685–1750)
Vivace
Lento
Allegro
The Haydn (added to the program) was a straightforward string trio. I found some of the violin phrasing to be a little choppy, not fully played through to the end of the phrase. Minor quibble.
The Renaissance Gems had more transparent lines, somewhat imitative lines with shifting rhythms, and a lively opening with intricate interplay (Flemish); pizzicato writing (Katzenpfote, totally plucked), and joyous, celebratory, very full sound (German); with stately, strophic writing in the Pavan, and variations that were almost perpetual motion in the Browning (English/Jacobean).
The Mozart unfortunately had a train wreck three quarters of the way through the fugue. As in, grinded to a halt, and had to find a good pickup point. The players finished gamely, though. The Bach was a transcription of an organ trio with the violin (Elizabeth Miller) playing the equivalent of the organ right hand, the viola (and transcriptionist, Louise Schulman) playing the left hand, with the cello (Daire FitzGerald) playing the feet. Ask, if you want to know.
In general, the playing was very good, especially considering the last-minute changes to the program, if a little same/same (see last-minute changes, above). I really like early music, so I was a bit disappointed that the vocalist was under the weather. I was very disappointed that (yet again) a cell phone went off during the concert. Fortunately, it was between pieces, but come on, folks! If you’re going to embrace the 21st century, use common sense and common courtesy.
ConcertMeister
Manhattan Saxophone Quartet
This was, I do believe, my first encounter with a saxophone quartet. Similar to a vocal quartet (but not a string quartet), it has soprano (Jordan P. Smith), alto (Aaron Patterson), tenor (Daniel Kochersberger) and bass (Jay Rattman) saxophones. Don’t be fooled by the soprano sax, though; it looks like a fancy-schmancy clarinet, without the characteristic U-shape of a saxophone.
All of the works on the program were contemporary/modern classical compositions. This led to a sameness of sound from piece to piece and a sameness of compositional techniques. For the most part, I was more aware of the techniques than the music actually speaking to me as music.
The program: Rondo for 4 Saxophones, Op. 70 (1970) – Zdenek Lukás {sorry, my limited html cheat sheet does not have all of the necessary Czech characters} (1928–2007); Ebb and Flow (2008) – Nils Vigeland, b. 1950; Saxophone Quartet No. 2 (Op. 234) (2011)* – David Noon, b. 1946 – I. Prelude, II. Tango,
III. Waltz, IV. Lullaby, V. Hornpipe; Two Abstractions (2010)+ – Marc-Antonio Consoli, b. 1941; Saxophone Quartet (2010)+ – Robert Young McMahan, b. 1944 – I. Moderato, II. Moderato, A Short Walk to the Third Movement, III. Allegretto marziale {had to guess at some of those tempi, as they were announced from the stage}; and Scherzino (2004) – William Bolcom, b. 1938.
The playing was, to these ears, very good all around. The compositional techniques of loud bursts of sound, florid-runs-one-after-the-other-on-top-of-one-another, and chordal writing left me a bit cold. In fact, my scribbled notes include “some dissonance, some unison, not much form”, and “controlled cacophony, even in slow passages”. After that, I stopped scribbling.
Mr. Noon’s piece had the most standard format, and was my favorite of the afternoon. His program notes had some programmatic text concerning certain parts of certain movements (notably the Lullaby), but they were too subtle for these ears, at least on a first hearing. I also enjoyed the Bolcom (it was short!).
It is of some note that four of the five living composers on the program were actually in the hall. Obviously this quartet has a close link to the saxophone and contemporary classical music scenes. Will I seek out additional saxophone quartet concerts? Probably not—still, I’m glad I went. Oh, and Mr. Noon also has four Nadia Boulanger mysteries that I might try to look into.
ConcertMeister
* World Premiere
+ Written for the Manhattan Saxophone Quartet
All of the works on the program were contemporary/modern classical compositions. This led to a sameness of sound from piece to piece and a sameness of compositional techniques. For the most part, I was more aware of the techniques than the music actually speaking to me as music.
The program: Rondo for 4 Saxophones, Op. 70 (1970) – Zdenek Lukás {sorry, my limited html cheat sheet does not have all of the necessary Czech characters} (1928–2007); Ebb and Flow (2008) – Nils Vigeland, b. 1950; Saxophone Quartet No. 2 (Op. 234) (2011)* – David Noon, b. 1946 – I. Prelude, II. Tango,
III. Waltz, IV. Lullaby, V. Hornpipe; Two Abstractions (2010)+ – Marc-Antonio Consoli, b. 1941; Saxophone Quartet (2010)+ – Robert Young McMahan, b. 1944 – I. Moderato, II. Moderato, A Short Walk to the Third Movement, III. Allegretto marziale {had to guess at some of those tempi, as they were announced from the stage}; and Scherzino (2004) – William Bolcom, b. 1938.
The playing was, to these ears, very good all around. The compositional techniques of loud bursts of sound, florid-runs-one-after-the-other-on-top-of-one-another, and chordal writing left me a bit cold. In fact, my scribbled notes include “some dissonance, some unison, not much form”, and “controlled cacophony, even in slow passages”. After that, I stopped scribbling.
Mr. Noon’s piece had the most standard format, and was my favorite of the afternoon. His program notes had some programmatic text concerning certain parts of certain movements (notably the Lullaby), but they were too subtle for these ears, at least on a first hearing. I also enjoyed the Bolcom (it was short!).
It is of some note that four of the five living composers on the program were actually in the hall. Obviously this quartet has a close link to the saxophone and contemporary classical music scenes. Will I seek out additional saxophone quartet concerts? Probably not—still, I’m glad I went. Oh, and Mr. Noon also has four Nadia Boulanger mysteries that I might try to look into.
ConcertMeister
* World Premiere
+ Written for the Manhattan Saxophone Quartet
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Not Quite Super Sunday
I waited a while to write this blog post. I try to be as positive as I can. These concerts are free, and I’m not out to bash anyone. Still, there were things I heard here that disappointed. The program, by Chamber 16, included three works:
Violin Concerto in E, BWV 1042 (1717), J.S. Bach
I. Allegro, II. Adagio, III. Allegro assai
Fratres (1980), Arvo Pärt
Piano Quintet in F minor, Op. 14 (1879), César Franck
I. Molto moderato quasi lento, II. Lento con molto sentimento, III. Allegro non troppo ma con fuoco
The Franck was my favorite, so I’ll start there. This was a work of substance; I think the players benefited from the interplay and support of the piano with the string quartet (violin, violin, viola, cello). The string players played with a nice sense of ensemble in this work. There were back-and-forth piano solo/quartet sections followed by full ensemble sections, ranging from close-knit to full-throated writing and playing, sudden silences and frantically dramatic sections. All in the first movement!
The second movement seemed to meander a little, and it seemed that Franck might have been experimenting with form/style—not that there’s anything wrong with that. The final movement finished off with fiery (fuoco) playing (Italian: literally, with fire), that was most enjoyable.
Before the intermission, we heard the Pärt. He’s somewhat of a minimalist composer—indeed, this work for violin and piano started out with repetitive, repetitive, repetitive string writing that then got chords, chords, chords added in. That was the first episode. There were about seven or eight episodes, all variations on those themes. The last was sort of the best, followed by a coda section that included stratospheric violin writing, which I find to be an acquired taste. I have not acquired it. I’m a gentleman “of a certain age,” and I found this work not particularly enjoyable. (I think it’s supposed to appeal to, or cause, a Zen-like feeling. Not for me.) The ladies to my right and left, all more advanced in age than I, did not like the work. I appreciate the compositional techniques, but it just did not appeal to me.
The Bach. Concerto? The solo violin (who had some intonation problems) was supported by a very small group of players—two violins, one viola, one cello, and one bass. Unfortunately, they had a ragged sense of ensemble, intonation, and blended sound. The bass also seemed to overpower the balance of sound, and my guess is that the ensemble was just a bit too small. I’m not sure whether it was a problem of not being able to have someone in the house to run balance checks and/or some type of musical direction, but this was a performance with unbalanced, sometimes out of tune playing. This is a recognizable and enjoyable work that was recognizable here. I hope some others enjoyed it.
ConcertMeister
Violin Concerto in E, BWV 1042 (1717), J.S. Bach
I. Allegro, II. Adagio, III. Allegro assai
Fratres (1980), Arvo Pärt
Piano Quintet in F minor, Op. 14 (1879), César Franck
I. Molto moderato quasi lento, II. Lento con molto sentimento, III. Allegro non troppo ma con fuoco
The Franck was my favorite, so I’ll start there. This was a work of substance; I think the players benefited from the interplay and support of the piano with the string quartet (violin, violin, viola, cello). The string players played with a nice sense of ensemble in this work. There were back-and-forth piano solo/quartet sections followed by full ensemble sections, ranging from close-knit to full-throated writing and playing, sudden silences and frantically dramatic sections. All in the first movement!
The second movement seemed to meander a little, and it seemed that Franck might have been experimenting with form/style—not that there’s anything wrong with that. The final movement finished off with fiery (fuoco) playing (Italian: literally, with fire), that was most enjoyable.
Before the intermission, we heard the Pärt. He’s somewhat of a minimalist composer—indeed, this work for violin and piano started out with repetitive, repetitive, repetitive string writing that then got chords, chords, chords added in. That was the first episode. There were about seven or eight episodes, all variations on those themes. The last was sort of the best, followed by a coda section that included stratospheric violin writing, which I find to be an acquired taste. I have not acquired it. I’m a gentleman “of a certain age,” and I found this work not particularly enjoyable. (I think it’s supposed to appeal to, or cause, a Zen-like feeling. Not for me.) The ladies to my right and left, all more advanced in age than I, did not like the work. I appreciate the compositional techniques, but it just did not appeal to me.
The Bach. Concerto? The solo violin (who had some intonation problems) was supported by a very small group of players—two violins, one viola, one cello, and one bass. Unfortunately, they had a ragged sense of ensemble, intonation, and blended sound. The bass also seemed to overpower the balance of sound, and my guess is that the ensemble was just a bit too small. I’m not sure whether it was a problem of not being able to have someone in the house to run balance checks and/or some type of musical direction, but this was a performance with unbalanced, sometimes out of tune playing. This is a recognizable and enjoyable work that was recognizable here. I hope some others enjoyed it.
ConcertMeister
Monday, February 6, 2012
The Song Recital
Jonathan Beyer, Baritone
Kristin Okerlund, Piano
Tchaikovsky (1840–1893): Don Juan’s Serenade, Does the Day Reign?, None but the Lonely Heart, As Over the Burning Embers; Copland (1900–1990): Selections from Old American Songs – The Dodger, Simple Gifts, The Little Horses, Zion’s Wall, At the River*; Alexander Zemlinsky (1871–1942): Entbietung, O Blätter, durre Blätter, from Gesange, Vor der Stadt, from Lieder, Meine Braut für ich heim; Ravel (1875–1937): Don Quichotte à Dulcineé (Chanson romanesque, Chanson épique, Chanson à boire); Paul Bowles (1910–1999): Lonesome Man, from Blue Mountain Ballads; Jean Berger (1909–2002): Lonely People; Richard Rodgers (1902–1979): Lonely Room, from Oklahoma!; George Gershwin (1898–1937): Someone to Watch Over Me, from Oh Kay!; Samuel Barber (1910–1981): I Hear an Army.
All of the Tchaikovsky songs were sung in Russian (supertitles provided—a first for me at a song recital). I can’t speak to the Russian diction, but in general Mr. Beyer’s diction was very good. One minor quibble, in English, was his lack of a “short” ‘i’ (‘ih’) vowel sound—usually it was more of an ‘ee’ sound. This can be effective, but I found that he overused it a bit. Once again, a minor quibble.
The next set was the Old American Songs, which are near and dear to my heart. I have both sets (two, five songs each) and I sang some of them in my college days. Oddly, in a sense, supertitles were also used for the English-language songs. Mr. Beyer is capable of a big sound (and we’re really aware when he’s concentrating on his big sound), but he also sings in his upper register with a very natural, sweet-sounding tone and we heard some of that in the Copland. (More on “I Bought Me a Cat” later.)
The Zemlinsky pieces were interesting and new to me—not a composer I know at all. Very nice art songs. After the intermission was the Ravel set. These were three songs with varied tempos, tones, and energies, very effectively sung.
The Lonesome/Lonely set brings me to a bit of a quandary. Mr. Beyer, as is his choice, chose to treat these as art songs and he did this consistently. That’s the good part. But taking a song like Lonely Room from Oklahoma! out of context is a bit jarring. Are we hearing it as he would perform it in the show, or as he would perform it in concert? Just food for thought. All in all, the recital was a great success, for both Mr. Beyer and Ms. Okerlund.
Now to “I Bought Me a Cat”. It’s one of the Old American Songs, sort of a cross between Old MacDonald and The Twelve Days of Christmas. The singer introduces animals and their sounds, and then strings them together, and together, and together. I used it as a tool for my elementary school student teaching assignment. But it’s hard to remember the animals and their sounds in order as they keep adding on, and on, and on. Mr. Beyer chose not to include it, as he said that his animal sounds didn’t match exactly when he performed both Copland sets in their entirety recently. OK, stuff happens.
At the end of the intermission, our Carnegie Hall Concert Series host introduced Marilyn Horne. Yes, the Marilyn Horne. This concert was the third song recital as part of the Marilyn Horne legacy at Carnegie Hall program. Ms. Horne commented on her first performances of “I Bought Me a Cat” with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. She said she wrote the animals in order on her palm to keep them straight. Her advice to Mr. Beyer? “Whenever you’re going to sing that song, review the damn animals before you go on stage!”
OK, I saw Jerry Stiller at the Judy Garland concert, and Marilyn Horne at the song recital—who’s next in my future? Only in New York, kids!
ConcertMeister
*I was honored to be invited as part of a pickup choral group to sing at Anne Baxter’s memorial service on the Upper East Side in the mid ’80s. Ms. Horne sang “At the River”, proving that a simple Copland song could be a masterpiece in the hands (and voice) of a truly genius performer.
Kristin Okerlund, Piano
Tchaikovsky (1840–1893): Don Juan’s Serenade, Does the Day Reign?, None but the Lonely Heart, As Over the Burning Embers; Copland (1900–1990): Selections from Old American Songs – The Dodger, Simple Gifts, The Little Horses, Zion’s Wall, At the River*; Alexander Zemlinsky (1871–1942): Entbietung, O Blätter, durre Blätter, from Gesange, Vor der Stadt, from Lieder, Meine Braut für ich heim; Ravel (1875–1937): Don Quichotte à Dulcineé (Chanson romanesque, Chanson épique, Chanson à boire); Paul Bowles (1910–1999): Lonesome Man, from Blue Mountain Ballads; Jean Berger (1909–2002): Lonely People; Richard Rodgers (1902–1979): Lonely Room, from Oklahoma!; George Gershwin (1898–1937): Someone to Watch Over Me, from Oh Kay!; Samuel Barber (1910–1981): I Hear an Army.
All of the Tchaikovsky songs were sung in Russian (supertitles provided—a first for me at a song recital). I can’t speak to the Russian diction, but in general Mr. Beyer’s diction was very good. One minor quibble, in English, was his lack of a “short” ‘i’ (‘ih’) vowel sound—usually it was more of an ‘ee’ sound. This can be effective, but I found that he overused it a bit. Once again, a minor quibble.
The next set was the Old American Songs, which are near and dear to my heart. I have both sets (two, five songs each) and I sang some of them in my college days. Oddly, in a sense, supertitles were also used for the English-language songs. Mr. Beyer is capable of a big sound (and we’re really aware when he’s concentrating on his big sound), but he also sings in his upper register with a very natural, sweet-sounding tone and we heard some of that in the Copland. (More on “I Bought Me a Cat” later.)
The Zemlinsky pieces were interesting and new to me—not a composer I know at all. Very nice art songs. After the intermission was the Ravel set. These were three songs with varied tempos, tones, and energies, very effectively sung.
The Lonesome/Lonely set brings me to a bit of a quandary. Mr. Beyer, as is his choice, chose to treat these as art songs and he did this consistently. That’s the good part. But taking a song like Lonely Room from Oklahoma! out of context is a bit jarring. Are we hearing it as he would perform it in the show, or as he would perform it in concert? Just food for thought. All in all, the recital was a great success, for both Mr. Beyer and Ms. Okerlund.
Now to “I Bought Me a Cat”. It’s one of the Old American Songs, sort of a cross between Old MacDonald and The Twelve Days of Christmas. The singer introduces animals and their sounds, and then strings them together, and together, and together. I used it as a tool for my elementary school student teaching assignment. But it’s hard to remember the animals and their sounds in order as they keep adding on, and on, and on. Mr. Beyer chose not to include it, as he said that his animal sounds didn’t match exactly when he performed both Copland sets in their entirety recently. OK, stuff happens.
At the end of the intermission, our Carnegie Hall Concert Series host introduced Marilyn Horne. Yes, the Marilyn Horne. This concert was the third song recital as part of the Marilyn Horne legacy at Carnegie Hall program. Ms. Horne commented on her first performances of “I Bought Me a Cat” with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. She said she wrote the animals in order on her palm to keep them straight. Her advice to Mr. Beyer? “Whenever you’re going to sing that song, review the damn animals before you go on stage!”
OK, I saw Jerry Stiller at the Judy Garland concert, and Marilyn Horne at the song recital—who’s next in my future? Only in New York, kids!
ConcertMeister
*I was honored to be invited as part of a pickup choral group to sing at Anne Baxter’s memorial service on the Upper East Side in the mid ’80s. Ms. Horne sang “At the River”, proving that a simple Copland song could be a masterpiece in the hands (and voice) of a truly genius performer.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
All the World’s a Screen
Saturday was another in the Silent Clowns film series. Seven silents—Injuns (1912), The Bogus Booking Agents (1916), Never Too Old (1926), The Grab Bag Bride (1917), A Blonde’s Revenge (1926), A Rolling Stone (1919), and When Knights Were Cold (1923). Whew! And whew, indeed for Ben Model, the accompanist for all seven (he’s also the producer, along with Bruce Lawton as co-producer and Steve Massa, who provided the well-written program notes).
Not too many well-known names this time around, in terms of performers. We had Stan Laurel in When Knights Were Cold, the second reel of a two-reeler (the first pretty much disintegrated, and this reel had some quality issues, as well). It was a sort of parody of the earlier Douglas Fairbanks Robin Hood. In this version, Princess Elizabeth will have to marry Prince Pluto unless Lord Helpus {I love that name} (Laurel) saves the day. He does. In the brief Q&A session I heard (I was rushing uptown to hear a vocal recital), everyone commented that the knights on stick ponies bulked out to look like knights on horseback looked right out of Monty Python! Funny is funny, across the ages.
The programmers were gung-ho about the Library of Congress doing lots of work on 35-millimeter reconstruction. I didn’t get it, but if they do in their geekdom (I can say that, I have my own geekdom, thank-you-very-much!), the end result looked great to these eyes.
I particularly liked The Bogus Booking Agents. Two hapless chaps go to a booking agent’s office when the agent is out to lunch. They each impersonate the agent with various new applicants. Mayhem ensues, including elevators, running up and down stairs, shots fired. But all ends fairly well. I was mildly intrigued with one scene showing an out-of-work acting troupe 2001 miles from New York, while walking along the railroad tracks. That was followed, rather eerily, by our hapless chaps running up the aforementioned stairs to the 110th floor. Strange juxtaposition that caught my eye.
In A Rolling Stone, we had a Charlie Chaplin imitator in Billy West. Apparently there were many imitators, and this did not particularly please Mr. Chaplin. Mr. West was quite convincing as a “Little Tramp”–like character. By 1920, he had dropped the imitation and developed his own dapper character, continuing through to the end of silent film years.
A fun series—there are three more this coming spring. I hope to see all of them and hope to keep you posted!
ConcertMeister
Not too many well-known names this time around, in terms of performers. We had Stan Laurel in When Knights Were Cold, the second reel of a two-reeler (the first pretty much disintegrated, and this reel had some quality issues, as well). It was a sort of parody of the earlier Douglas Fairbanks Robin Hood. In this version, Princess Elizabeth will have to marry Prince Pluto unless Lord Helpus {I love that name} (Laurel) saves the day. He does. In the brief Q&A session I heard (I was rushing uptown to hear a vocal recital), everyone commented that the knights on stick ponies bulked out to look like knights on horseback looked right out of Monty Python! Funny is funny, across the ages.
The programmers were gung-ho about the Library of Congress doing lots of work on 35-millimeter reconstruction. I didn’t get it, but if they do in their geekdom (I can say that, I have my own geekdom, thank-you-very-much!), the end result looked great to these eyes.
I particularly liked The Bogus Booking Agents. Two hapless chaps go to a booking agent’s office when the agent is out to lunch. They each impersonate the agent with various new applicants. Mayhem ensues, including elevators, running up and down stairs, shots fired. But all ends fairly well. I was mildly intrigued with one scene showing an out-of-work acting troupe 2001 miles from New York, while walking along the railroad tracks. That was followed, rather eerily, by our hapless chaps running up the aforementioned stairs to the 110th floor. Strange juxtaposition that caught my eye.
In A Rolling Stone, we had a Charlie Chaplin imitator in Billy West. Apparently there were many imitators, and this did not particularly please Mr. Chaplin. Mr. West was quite convincing as a “Little Tramp”–like character. By 1920, he had dropped the imitation and developed his own dapper character, continuing through to the end of silent film years.
A fun series—there are three more this coming spring. I hope to see all of them and hope to keep you posted!
ConcertMeister
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Monday, 1/30/2012 Songbook
Okay, technically it was a Songbook. Our composer/lyricist, Benjamin Scheuer (do your own internet searches) had a satirical comedy, Jihad! The Musical mounted at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and in London.
We didn’t hear that music. We heard something much more personal; the songs from an upcoming album. Yes, album! On line and on vinyl (I’m not making this up, you know!). And when it’s on line, you’ll be able to download it for free. (That’s more tech-speak than I’ve posted in my entire blogging history.)
Anyhoo, the music. The Bridge—title song and title of the work. A three-pronged approach, involving the bridge seen from the window, bridge with family, and bridge with Significant Other (if I’m remembering correctly).
All of the songs were intensely personal—Mr. Scheuer’s father died when he was young, and Mr. Scheuer himself has battled cancer during this past year, though he’s in good health now, plus (we learn via his writing) he’s gone through some personal relationship angst over the past several years.
His music, to me, is a bit of the ‘coffee-house-folk-guitar’ style—short declamatory phrases, a little choppy but heartfelt. There was a bit of sameness to the presentation of his work on Monday, ably assisted by Geoff Kraly (bass/synthesizers) and Jacob Sacks (piano). He did mention that the album/upload/download would include quite a few other instruments, which might fill the sound a bit. “Never Lasts That Long” is apparently available on line now, though I haven’t tried accessing it.
From the Set List, I particularly enjoyed the last piece, “The Lion.” It had some repetitive angst-ridden refrains, but finished very strongly (fitting for a cancer survivor) with “It’s not the roar that makes the lion, it’s the pride.”
Fitting, indeed.
ConcertMeister
We didn’t hear that music. We heard something much more personal; the songs from an upcoming album. Yes, album! On line and on vinyl (I’m not making this up, you know!). And when it’s on line, you’ll be able to download it for free. (That’s more tech-speak than I’ve posted in my entire blogging history.)
Anyhoo, the music. The Bridge—title song and title of the work. A three-pronged approach, involving the bridge seen from the window, bridge with family, and bridge with Significant Other (if I’m remembering correctly).
All of the songs were intensely personal—Mr. Scheuer’s father died when he was young, and Mr. Scheuer himself has battled cancer during this past year, though he’s in good health now, plus (we learn via his writing) he’s gone through some personal relationship angst over the past several years.
His music, to me, is a bit of the ‘coffee-house-folk-guitar’ style—short declamatory phrases, a little choppy but heartfelt. There was a bit of sameness to the presentation of his work on Monday, ably assisted by Geoff Kraly (bass/synthesizers) and Jacob Sacks (piano). He did mention that the album/upload/download would include quite a few other instruments, which might fill the sound a bit. “Never Lasts That Long” is apparently available on line now, though I haven’t tried accessing it.
From the Set List, I particularly enjoyed the last piece, “The Lion.” It had some repetitive angst-ridden refrains, but finished very strongly (fitting for a cancer survivor) with “It’s not the roar that makes the lion, it’s the pride.”
Fitting, indeed.
ConcertMeister
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