Michael Sellers is a pianist whose program was half Chopin (1810–1849), half not Chopin. Part one included Polonaise-Fantaisie, Op. 61; Eight Mazurkas (I won’t name and number all of them); Nocturne in B Major, Op. 32 No. 1; and Polonaise in A flat Major, Op. 53, “Heroic.” After intermission, we heard Milonga del Angel, and Adios, nonino, Astor Piazzolla (1921–1992); Fugue from “Sonata, Op. 26,” Samuel Barber (1910–1981); The Harmonica Player, from “Alley Tunes: Three Scenes from the South,” David Guion (1893–1981); Three Preludes (1926), George Gershwin (1898–1937); and five songs from “The Gershwin Songbook” (no attribution).
First off, Mr. Sellers played everything from memory. My notes for the first half include, “A bit heavy handed,” (for the opening piece) and, for some of the eight Mazurkas, “a little more legato,” “treated them as little gems,” “playful touches,” “finished with a nice flourish,” and “his (Sellers’) own style that I found a bit choppy/dry.” The Nocturne that followed had more flow within sections, and the sections themselves connected better.
The “Heroic” suited the pianist’s style—maybe a few dropped notes, but a powerful rendition.
In the second half, Milonga had a mixture of melancholy plus some upbeat style–very tango. Adios nonino (we learned from the pianist) was a signature piece, composed after Piazzolla’s father died. There was angst and a dirge-like quality to the very beautiful music.
The Barber was rhythmic with a Latin flair—virtuosic writing and playing—much like a perpetual motion movement in a ballet. The Guion piece was touted as being an encore piece for Horowitz. I found it a bit long for an encore, unless Horowitz did more with it than Mr. Sellers did.
My notes for the Gershwin Preludes were brief and included “quite original, considering the year of their composition. Touch of a blues-y feeling in No. 2.” I listen to them on the radio and consider them part of regular listening, without really considering that they come from 1926. A completely different era, though they seem to span American Classical-cum-war years, cum-representational Americana. Just my thoughts.
The five Gershwin songs (piano version) put me in the mind of listening to a really good supper club/nightclub pianist riffing on popular music. And that’s not a bad thing.
ConcertMeister
(Thank you, Pheas!)
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Where Does a Week Go?
Last Saturday (4/21) I went to a community sing, held at Advent Lutheran Church and featuring the Westminster Choir, one of the flagship groups representing the Westminster Choir College of Rider University. So, what is a community sing? We, the audience, actually sang portions of the concert along with the choir.
The program was Gloria in Excelsis Deo, Thomas Weelkes (c.1575–1623); Shenandoah*, Traditional (arr. James Erb); Taaveti laul No. 104 (Psalm 104), Cyrillus Kreek (1889–1962); Come let us worship, from All-night Vigil, Op. 37, Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873–1943); Heilig ist der Herr*, Andreas Hammerschmidt (c.1611–1675); Long Road, Eriks Esenvalds (b. 1977); Light of a Clear Blue Morning, Dolly Parton (b. 1946) (arr. Craig Hella Johnson); and Anyhow, Traditional (arr. Evelyn La Rue Pittman).
*Included the audience as performers (actually, we hummed and droned along with a couple of the other pieces).
This is a fine, well-rehearsed choir in a very nice, well-balanced community program. The Weelkes was a good, bright opener. Since we were part of the next work, the conductor (Joe Miller) put us through our paces with some breathing exercises, some stretching, and a light vocal warm-up. To me, very basic stuff, but probably a bit of an eye opener to some. The choir sang through the first verse of Shenandoah and then we sang it along with them. For the performance proper, the choir sang the first verse, men of the choir and audience the second, women of the choir and the audience third, all for verse four, with the choir finishing alone. Then we all applauded each other.
The choir performed the Kreek and the Rachmaninoff, with some additional humming and droning (almost “ohm”-like) from the audience. The first was to demonstrate creation of overtones; the second was to demonstrate the inclusion of performance space as part of the performance. In demonstrating overtones, we were treated to listening to one of the gentlemen of the choir who is able to produce a pure pitch with an “ooo” sound and then, by manipulating his tongue and other throat muscles, create the tune of “Amazing Grace” above his very own drone. Eerie, but interesting.
The Hammerschmidt was the centerpiece of “audience as choir”. We learned who were sopranos, altos, tenors and basses and then we were taught (we had photocopies) an eight-bar section of four-part harmony that would come back several times in the work. After the teaching period, the work began with the choir. When the eight-bar section approached, Mr. Miller turned and conducted the audience along with the choir. Indeed, in the last iteration of the eight-bar phrase, the choir was tacit and the audience performed alone. Great fun.
The Esenvalds involved a split choir, the Parton was a folksy rendition involving the audience with a few responses, as was the Traditional Anyhow (a spiritual new to me).
The choir sang a very well-deserved encore of Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho.
ConcertMeister (and performer!)
p.s. My pipes ain’t what they used to be.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Quatuor Diotima
Monday evening, the 16th, found me at the Austrian Cultural Forum again for “cutting-edge European culture brought to NYC.” I may just have to accept that “cutting-edge” is not for me.
The players: Yun-Peng Zhao (violin I), Guillaume Latour (violin II), Franck Chevalier (viola), and Pierre Morlet (violoncello). Made up of former Paris and Lyon Conservatory graduates, the quartet is based in Paris.
The program: Bruchstück IX (2010), Christian Ofenbauer (?–); Liquid Crystals (2011), Arturo Fuentes (1975–); and Quartet No. 2 (1968), György Ligeti (1923–2006). You can pretty much make up your own idea of what those titles mean to you because they seemed to have very little meaning to what I could get from the music. We’re talking more non-tonal than atonal. I mean, who’d’a thunk I would ever leave a concert saying, “Hmmm, Meister, the Ligeti was the most interesting piece on the program!”
The descriptions: The Ofenbauer was mostly rhythmic scratching, then a bit of actual bowing, plus some pizzicato plucks. But mostly scratching. In tune? I couldn’t tell you.
The Fuentes included rubbing the strings as well as bowing/scratching. I actually jotted down “Flight of the Stoned Bumblebees,” who finally straightened up and flew right. A few times when all four members were playing something vaguely similar, it sort of made sense. Emphasis on few and vague. Sort of.
The Ligeti seemed to be three movements (though nothing so mundane as movement names or listings were used). Movements(?) two and three involved muted strings, while movement three(?) opened with pizzicato sounds leading to bowed and pizzicato. At least the four players were more of an ensemble in this work and there were dynamic, tempo, and style variations. I still didn’t get much meaning out of it, though.
I think I may have to re-think cutting-edge musical culture.
ConcertMeister
The players: Yun-Peng Zhao (violin I), Guillaume Latour (violin II), Franck Chevalier (viola), and Pierre Morlet (violoncello). Made up of former Paris and Lyon Conservatory graduates, the quartet is based in Paris.
The program: Bruchstück IX (2010), Christian Ofenbauer (?–); Liquid Crystals (2011), Arturo Fuentes (1975–); and Quartet No. 2 (1968), György Ligeti (1923–2006). You can pretty much make up your own idea of what those titles mean to you because they seemed to have very little meaning to what I could get from the music. We’re talking more non-tonal than atonal. I mean, who’d’a thunk I would ever leave a concert saying, “Hmmm, Meister, the Ligeti was the most interesting piece on the program!”
The descriptions: The Ofenbauer was mostly rhythmic scratching, then a bit of actual bowing, plus some pizzicato plucks. But mostly scratching. In tune? I couldn’t tell you.
The Fuentes included rubbing the strings as well as bowing/scratching. I actually jotted down “Flight of the Stoned Bumblebees,” who finally straightened up and flew right. A few times when all four members were playing something vaguely similar, it sort of made sense. Emphasis on few and vague. Sort of.
The Ligeti seemed to be three movements (though nothing so mundane as movement names or listings were used). Movements(?) two and three involved muted strings, while movement three(?) opened with pizzicato sounds leading to bowed and pizzicato. At least the four players were more of an ensemble in this work and there were dynamic, tempo, and style variations. I still didn’t get much meaning out of it, though.
I think I may have to re-think cutting-edge musical culture.
ConcertMeister
Ensemble ACJW (at MOSA)
This was a great program featuring fellows of The Academy—a two-year fellowship program under the auspices of Carnegie Hall, Juilliard, and the Weill Music Institute in partnership with the NYC Dept. of Education. Not a bad pedigree, eh?
The program was modern classical—Critical Moments 2, George Perle (1915–2009), Wind Quintet No. 1 (1948), Jean Françaix* (1912–1997), and (after intermission) Clarinet Quintet in B minor, Op. 115 (1891), Johannes Brahms (1833–1897).
The program included a sextet and two quintets, with very little overlap in personnel; therefore, individuals will not be named. The first work had nine movements (I–IX (d’oh!)) most fairly quick in tempo, with only #VII slow. Very interesting mix of instruments (flute, clarinet, violin, cello, piano, percussion), specifically the percussion (vibraphone, timpani/snare drum, blocks/gong, and cymbals (with sticks/brushes)). The piece had enough structure and listenability to keep it interesting without too much over-the-top discord/dissonance.
The Françaix quintet (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn) was a four-movement work. My notes included rolling; longer, more fleshed out; variations, including rhythmic variations. The last movement was a bit disjointed—the sections didn’t seem to be connected or leading anywhere specific.
The Brahms quintet (two violins, viola, cello, clarinet) was composed late in his career, and the opening (Allegro) was full and lush, if almost somber. The Adagio had an intensity, both compositionally and in execution. The third movement (Andantino–Presto non assai, ma con sentimento) was sunny in its opening, bright and brief. Movement four (Con moto) returned to somber—really more sober, yet not a downer at all, though the ending was an odd mix of chords, chords, quiet ending.
This Academy is a great experience for budding professionals—the grounding of performance experiences with new opportunities opening ahead of them. Their performances in NYC schools share their love of music and performance and require the players to use teaching moments/interaction with audience members. A win-win situation.
Note: These folks must love what they do—two of the players were alumni of the program.
*The mentor to this group of players told them that Françaix was “either diabolically brilliant, or he didn’t know what he was doing.” I vote for the former.
ConcertMeister
The program was modern classical—Critical Moments 2, George Perle (1915–2009), Wind Quintet No. 1 (1948), Jean Françaix* (1912–1997), and (after intermission) Clarinet Quintet in B minor, Op. 115 (1891), Johannes Brahms (1833–1897).
The program included a sextet and two quintets, with very little overlap in personnel; therefore, individuals will not be named. The first work had nine movements (I–IX (d’oh!)) most fairly quick in tempo, with only #VII slow. Very interesting mix of instruments (flute, clarinet, violin, cello, piano, percussion), specifically the percussion (vibraphone, timpani/snare drum, blocks/gong, and cymbals (with sticks/brushes)). The piece had enough structure and listenability to keep it interesting without too much over-the-top discord/dissonance.
The Françaix quintet (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, horn) was a four-movement work. My notes included rolling; longer, more fleshed out; variations, including rhythmic variations. The last movement was a bit disjointed—the sections didn’t seem to be connected or leading anywhere specific.
The Brahms quintet (two violins, viola, cello, clarinet) was composed late in his career, and the opening (Allegro) was full and lush, if almost somber. The Adagio had an intensity, both compositionally and in execution. The third movement (Andantino–Presto non assai, ma con sentimento) was sunny in its opening, bright and brief. Movement four (Con moto) returned to somber—really more sober, yet not a downer at all, though the ending was an odd mix of chords, chords, quiet ending.
This Academy is a great experience for budding professionals—the grounding of performance experiences with new opportunities opening ahead of them. Their performances in NYC schools share their love of music and performance and require the players to use teaching moments/interaction with audience members. A win-win situation.
Note: These folks must love what they do—two of the players were alumni of the program.
*The mentor to this group of players told them that Françaix was “either diabolically brilliant, or he didn’t know what he was doing.” I vote for the former.
ConcertMeister
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Flute and Piano
Saturday afternoon brought Norman Dee (flute) and Josephine Chan Yung (piano) in a nicely varied program:
Dance of the Blessed Spirits (from Orpheus), Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714–1787); Sonata in B flat Major, K. 378, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791); Andante and Scherzo, Louis Ganne (1862–1923); Nocturne in C sharp minor, Op. Posthumous, Frederic Chopin (1810–1849); Histoire du Tango, Astor Piazzolla (1921–1992). There was a brief intermission after the Ganne work (a composer brand-spanking new to me).
In the Gluck Dance, I found Mr. Dee’s playing straightforward and nice, if a bit lacking in phrasing. He made it to the ends of the phrases, but just. Whether that was jitters or the slow tempo of the work, I’m not certain. Still, it was nice to hear the work.
Mozart’s sonata followed—Allegro Moderato, Andantino sostenuto e cantabile, Rondeau-Allegro. The opening of the piece was rather odd, with the flute playing in a low register, barely audible. Just for one phrase, but it came back as a repeat. Which leads to a bit of a quibble. It seemed to me that all of the repeats were taken in all three movements, but I saw/heard no variations in the repeats. It was a bit much for me, especially as I’m not a huge Mozart fan. The second and third movements followed suit—played well, and the audience was very receptive.
The Ganne work was relatively short and very well played. The Andante ended with a brief coda, leading into the Scherzo that allowed both players to flex their respective pianistic and flutist (I’m not wading in to the flutist/flautist debate!) muscles.
Both works on the second half were hybrids—the Chopin was arranged for flute and piano (by John Wummer), the Piazzolla (by D. Valeras). Of the two, the Chopin got short shrift—the arrangement seemed a bit weak to me. But, oh, the Piazzolla.
Four movements—Bordel – 1900, Café – 1930, Night-Club – 1960, Concert d’aujourd’hui. Whether the movements realistically charted the growth of the Argentinean and Brazilian tangos is not a call I can make, but there was tremendous variety from movement to movement, and the form seemed to grow and expand. Both the melancholy as well as the vivacious, hot-blooded aspects of tango were fully explored. This was, by far, my favorite piece on the program. Varied, well played, allowing both performers to shine—what’s not to like? I really liked!
ConcertMeister
Dance of the Blessed Spirits (from Orpheus), Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714–1787); Sonata in B flat Major, K. 378, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791); Andante and Scherzo, Louis Ganne (1862–1923); Nocturne in C sharp minor, Op. Posthumous, Frederic Chopin (1810–1849); Histoire du Tango, Astor Piazzolla (1921–1992). There was a brief intermission after the Ganne work (a composer brand-spanking new to me).
In the Gluck Dance, I found Mr. Dee’s playing straightforward and nice, if a bit lacking in phrasing. He made it to the ends of the phrases, but just. Whether that was jitters or the slow tempo of the work, I’m not certain. Still, it was nice to hear the work.
Mozart’s sonata followed—Allegro Moderato, Andantino sostenuto e cantabile, Rondeau-Allegro. The opening of the piece was rather odd, with the flute playing in a low register, barely audible. Just for one phrase, but it came back as a repeat. Which leads to a bit of a quibble. It seemed to me that all of the repeats were taken in all three movements, but I saw/heard no variations in the repeats. It was a bit much for me, especially as I’m not a huge Mozart fan. The second and third movements followed suit—played well, and the audience was very receptive.
The Ganne work was relatively short and very well played. The Andante ended with a brief coda, leading into the Scherzo that allowed both players to flex their respective pianistic and flutist (I’m not wading in to the flutist/flautist debate!) muscles.
Both works on the second half were hybrids—the Chopin was arranged for flute and piano (by John Wummer), the Piazzolla (by D. Valeras). Of the two, the Chopin got short shrift—the arrangement seemed a bit weak to me. But, oh, the Piazzolla.
Four movements—Bordel – 1900, Café – 1930, Night-Club – 1960, Concert d’aujourd’hui. Whether the movements realistically charted the growth of the Argentinean and Brazilian tangos is not a call I can make, but there was tremendous variety from movement to movement, and the form seemed to grow and expand. Both the melancholy as well as the vivacious, hot-blooded aspects of tango were fully explored. This was, by far, my favorite piece on the program. Varied, well played, allowing both performers to shine—what’s not to like? I really liked!
ConcertMeister
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Bargemusic Saturdays
This is an enjoyable concert series, as it’s informal, usually not too crowded, and you never know what you’re getting until you get there. The program is announced from the stage. Saturday brought a few solo violin pieces and four piano pieces—Debussy and Chopin. Mark Peskanov (violin) is the Executive Director of Bargemusic, and the pianist was Doris Stevenson.
Mr. Peskanov opened the program with a movement from the J.S. Bach Partita #3. It was very well played; I was especially impressed with his nice control of the range of dynamics.
Ms. Stevenson played pieces that had references to water—appropriate, as we were on a moored barge in the East River (on the Brooklyn side). She began with Claude Debussy—Gardens in the Rain and Reflections in the Water. Les Jardins had a few washes of Impressionistic color that I associate with Debussy, but it also had a bit of heft. Both Debussy pieces were very well played, the first from memory and the second with the score, though I didn’t see her checking the score often or at all.
She followed these with two of the four Chopin Ballades—#4 in F minor (Op. 52) and #1 in G minor (Op. 23), both played from memory once again. They are familiar to me, though I don’t presume to know the scores thoroughly. My notes include “disjointed,” but that’s not quite what I experienced. I was aware of the individual sections, rather than a free-flowing rendition. Sort of a different interpretation, yet it also let me experience being aware of the technical variations in the different themes and how Chopin achieved these. Once again, pretty playing, hitting all the marks, just in a slightly different way than I’m used to hearing.
In her introduction to the Ballades, Ms. Stevenson made a reference to attributing them to different epic poems of [Adam] Mickievich. News to me, and more fodder to follow up on.
Mr. Peskanov finished out the program with the Adagio and Fugue from Bach’s solo Sonata in G minor—again, very well played.
In the brief Q&A session, various topics were explored such as practice time (amount thereof), how to concentrate on memorizing the works, and how to focus during the actual playing process. Music and information on how it’s done, all in one brief program. Lots of fun.
ConcertMeister
Mr. Peskanov opened the program with a movement from the J.S. Bach Partita #3. It was very well played; I was especially impressed with his nice control of the range of dynamics.
Ms. Stevenson played pieces that had references to water—appropriate, as we were on a moored barge in the East River (on the Brooklyn side). She began with Claude Debussy—Gardens in the Rain and Reflections in the Water. Les Jardins had a few washes of Impressionistic color that I associate with Debussy, but it also had a bit of heft. Both Debussy pieces were very well played, the first from memory and the second with the score, though I didn’t see her checking the score often or at all.
She followed these with two of the four Chopin Ballades—#4 in F minor (Op. 52) and #1 in G minor (Op. 23), both played from memory once again. They are familiar to me, though I don’t presume to know the scores thoroughly. My notes include “disjointed,” but that’s not quite what I experienced. I was aware of the individual sections, rather than a free-flowing rendition. Sort of a different interpretation, yet it also let me experience being aware of the technical variations in the different themes and how Chopin achieved these. Once again, pretty playing, hitting all the marks, just in a slightly different way than I’m used to hearing.
In her introduction to the Ballades, Ms. Stevenson made a reference to attributing them to different epic poems of [Adam] Mickievich. News to me, and more fodder to follow up on.
Mr. Peskanov finished out the program with the Adagio and Fugue from Bach’s solo Sonata in G minor—again, very well played.
In the brief Q&A session, various topics were explored such as practice time (amount thereof), how to concentrate on memorizing the works, and how to focus during the actual playing process. Music and information on how it’s done, all in one brief program. Lots of fun.
ConcertMeister
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Gary Dranch & Friends
(Mostly) French Chamber Music
Works for me.
The Program:
Caprice sur des airs Danois et Russe pour piano, flute, oboe, et clarinette, Op. 79, Camille Saint-Saëns (1835–1921)
Quintet in E-Flat for Piano & Winds, Op. 16 for Piano, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, french [sic] horn, Ludwig v. Beethoven (1770–1827)
TRIO en UT (1936), Claude Arrieu (1903–1990)
Sextet for Piano & Winds pour piano, flute, hautbois, clarinette, bassoon et cor, (1932, rev. 1939), Francis Poulenc (1899–1963).
Whew! French is hard. What a great concert! Woodwind writing means squeaks, squawks, chirpy, spiky music—it comes with the territory.
The Saint-Saëns was a bit oddly constructed—though everyone had a chance to shine in a solo, there were nice back and forth tosses with all three of the wind instruments. While folk themes abounded, I expected a bit more sophistication from Saint-Saëns; still, it was a very enjoyable piece.
The Beethoven was a more firm composition, though I found the piano and horn writing a bit out of place at times. The three movements were slightly varied, but I found the piano intro followed by the tutti writing a bit formulaic and uninspired. But it was Beethoven—so the music was inspired in its own right. There was a real chamber music feel to this piece—I felt as though I could have been in a private salon listening to friends get together to play some fun music.
The Arrieu (a composer I know not at all), was interesting, but my cryptic notes say “avant-garde? youthful work? avant-garde more in sound than format?” It was definitely spiky-chirpy. And it was most definitely a warm-up for the Poulenc.
The Poulenc Sextet. Ahhh! Allegro Vivace, Divertissement, Finale. Notes to myself: Stronger compositional techniques; making more of a statement, musically; a real concert piece. With the first movement, I wrote Lush. Movement 2, I wrote Lush x 2. For the Finale, I wrote, “Back to spiky, but much more thorough, once again.”
Throughout, the playing was very good. The oboist played very well; flute, quite well, with a few patchy spots; bassoon, spot-on; clarinet, very good—in every piece! The pianist was also very good. The horn player started off a bit shaky, but improved in the Poulenc (I think the writing was better/more organic).
Chamber music that is varied, with very good ensemble players, is a very good thing. I’m really glad I attended this concert today.
ConcertMeister
Works for me.
The Program:
Caprice sur des airs Danois et Russe pour piano, flute, oboe, et clarinette, Op. 79, Camille Saint-Saëns (1835–1921)
Quintet in E-Flat for Piano & Winds, Op. 16 for Piano, clarinet, oboe, bassoon, french [sic] horn, Ludwig v. Beethoven (1770–1827)
TRIO en UT (1936), Claude Arrieu (1903–1990)
Sextet for Piano & Winds pour piano, flute, hautbois, clarinette, bassoon et cor, (1932, rev. 1939), Francis Poulenc (1899–1963).
Whew! French is hard. What a great concert! Woodwind writing means squeaks, squawks, chirpy, spiky music—it comes with the territory.
The Saint-Saëns was a bit oddly constructed—though everyone had a chance to shine in a solo, there were nice back and forth tosses with all three of the wind instruments. While folk themes abounded, I expected a bit more sophistication from Saint-Saëns; still, it was a very enjoyable piece.
The Beethoven was a more firm composition, though I found the piano and horn writing a bit out of place at times. The three movements were slightly varied, but I found the piano intro followed by the tutti writing a bit formulaic and uninspired. But it was Beethoven—so the music was inspired in its own right. There was a real chamber music feel to this piece—I felt as though I could have been in a private salon listening to friends get together to play some fun music.
The Arrieu (a composer I know not at all), was interesting, but my cryptic notes say “avant-garde? youthful work? avant-garde more in sound than format?” It was definitely spiky-chirpy. And it was most definitely a warm-up for the Poulenc.
The Poulenc Sextet. Ahhh! Allegro Vivace, Divertissement, Finale. Notes to myself: Stronger compositional techniques; making more of a statement, musically; a real concert piece. With the first movement, I wrote Lush. Movement 2, I wrote Lush x 2. For the Finale, I wrote, “Back to spiky, but much more thorough, once again.”
Throughout, the playing was very good. The oboist played very well; flute, quite well, with a few patchy spots; bassoon, spot-on; clarinet, very good—in every piece! The pianist was also very good. The horn player started off a bit shaky, but improved in the Poulenc (I think the writing was better/more organic).
Chamber music that is varied, with very good ensemble players, is a very good thing. I’m really glad I attended this concert today.
ConcertMeister
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