Pre-Thanksgiving Piano Concert (11/17/12)

The pianist was Raj Bhimani, and I must say that he is one of the best pianists I’ve heard at the Library of Performing Arts concerts. This is not to downplay any other performers—this was just great playing. The program (it’s long and thorough, sorry):

Sonata in C Minor, Op. 13 (Pathétique) (1798–99), Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827): Grave, Allegro di molto e con brio; Adagio cantabile (I bet you’d recognize it!); Rondo: Allegro.

Piano Pieces, Op. 119 (1892), Johannes Brahms (1833–1897): Intermezzo in B Minor, E Minor, C major, and Rhapsody in E-flat Major.

Intermission (and very few people left)

Three Preludes for Piano (2008), Thérèse Brenet (1935–): Vibrance (Vibration), Le Chant d’un monde lointain (The Song of a Faraway World), and La Lumière et le cri (The Light and the Scream).

Miroirs (1905), Maurice Ravel (1875–1937): Noctuelles (Night Moths), Oiseaux tristes (Sad Birds), Une Barque sur l’océan (A Boat on the Ocean), Alborada del gracioso (The Comedian’s Aubade), and La Vallée des cloches (The Valley of the Bells).

Whew! The Beethoven had very familiar themes but was also played extremely well. My notes for the Brahms included calm opening, cerebral comes to mind; fuller, reminded me of the intensity of Brahms; more rhythmic writing with repetitive rhythms; and hitting with Brahms bombast (and that’s not a bad thing).

After intermission, the Brenet was presented (a little less well received than the rest of the program). My notes for the three movements include: Debussy influence? brief; dreamscape quality; and forceful, if a bit too literal.

Literal was the watchword for the Ravel pieces, as well. I really wanted to like these pieces better than I did. I felt that each movement was a bit too insistent in its example (sound-wise) of the movement title. And almost every one dragged on just a little too long. Once again, they were played beautifully but the pieces themselves did not really speak to me.

Of note, with the exception of the Brenet works, all the rest were played from memory, sans score—and I didn’t notice any lapses.

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Cello Fire from Iceland (11/15/12)

I did not make this title up. Personally, I would not choose this title.

Okay, now that that’s out of the way, I attended a concert at the American-Scandinavian Foundation (thank you, WQXR for the free tickets!). I have been in the building before for an art exhibit, but this was my first visit to the Victor Borge auditorium—and, no, there was no humor involved.

The players: Meena Bhasin (viola); Owen Dalby (violin); Saeunn Thorsteindottir (cello) (and, no, I’m not attempting the diacriticals!); and Per Tengstrand (piano).

All of that said, this was a lovely program played very well. The program was String trio in B flat Major D. 471 Allegro (Franz Schubert: 1797–1828); Fantasy Pieces for cello and piano Op. 73 (Robert Schumann: 1810–1856); and Piano Quartet in g Minor op. 25 (Johannes Brahms: 1833–1897).

All three pieces were played very well in a concert that was formal—but with little informalities throughout.

The opening trio was a little bit on the quiet side—almost thin writing, but that was appropriate. The Schumann was definitely more in the Romantic style, with the piano and cello being truly equal partners. The harmonies were a bit more developed and a bit more lush.

The Brahms had a lengthy Allegro with a fiery coda; an Intermezzo that opened with string trio but then advanced to full quartet writing; an Andante that opened with a chorale-like sequence; and a Presto (Rondo) that brought everything back into the fold.

This was a lovely evening of Romantic era music played by a very enthusiastic group of young musicians. Just the right thing for me. Thanks again to WQXR—I’ll enter another giveaway after one month has elapsed.

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Organ Recital—November 11, 2012

Dr. Andrew E. Henderson played a well-performed recital this past Sunday on the Temple Emanu-El organ. Since the organ is hidden, we saw Dr. Henderson via organ cam, which was interesting because we got to see the transitions from one to the other (three!) keyboards. Plus a somewhat murky look at the pedal “key”board. OK, organists are acrobats. But their pistons (some of which link one keyboard to another) give them a little bit of extra magic up their sleeves. Well, enough technical talk.

The program consisted of Präludium in D major, Wq 70/7 and Adagio (from Sonata in G minor, Wq 70/6), Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (a son) (1714–1788); Fugue in G major “Jig,” BWV 577, J.S. Bach (papa) (1695–1750); Rhapsody in D-flat major, Op. 17, No. 1, Herbert Howells (1892–1983); Sonata No. 5 in D major, Op. 65, Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847); From Seven Sketches on Verses of the Psalms (1934), (two only), Percy Whitlock (1903–1946); Scherzo-Pastorale (1913), Gottfried H. Federlein (1883–1952); and Nimrod (from “Enigma” Variations, Op. 36) and Imperial March, Op. 32, Edward Elgar (1857–1934).

Whew! Where to begin? All three Bach pieces were crisp, with clean lines, and the almost mathematical precision one associates with Bach(s). Or, at least, this one. All three were clear, precise, and musical. That is the genius of Bach. The Howells took us into not-quite-romantic writing but more dense harmonies. The Mendelssohn did take us into Romanticism, and it was a lovely journey. The Whitlock stretched us once again into hearing and listening in a different way. I wasn’t sold on a new sound but I was willing to listen. The Federlein (he was organist at Temple Emanu-El from 1915–1945, which included the new building and organ on Fifth Avenue (1929)) was definitely a concert piece (though Dr. Henderson played it as a postlude recently at Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church—I asked; he told me!). It could possibly have been incorporated into a silent film score, to my mind. The Elgar pieces were arrangements of orchestral works, which merely goes to show how the pipe organ is the “almost-equivalent” of an orchestra.

The “organ cam” gave us great insight into the logistics—still, Dr. Henderson made it look easy-peasy. And it is not.

I know.*

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*Ask, if you’re interested.

Silent Clowns—Farewell, 2012

This is a great silent film series, as regulars will recall. Saturday’s (11/10/12) two films were both from 1925 and both were circus themed, in part because the Big Apple Circus is currently in residence at the Lincoln Center plaza. The film series takes place at the Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts. Alas, this is their last installment until March 2013.

So on to the films. The short was Remember When? followed by The Live Wire. Both were very funny, and (as usual) Ben Model did one heck of a job with the live piano accompaniment. Remember When? begins with young Harry (Harry Langdon—well, as the grown-up Harry) bidding a fond farewell to Rosemary (Natalie Kingston—well, the grown-up Rosemary), since Rosemary’s mom is moving them away. But Rosemary’s mom gives Harry a locket with Rosemary’s photo in it. Harry is an orphan, who decides that there’s no reason to stick around the orphanage. He packs up his little bundle of stuff, ties it to a stick and heads off into the great big world. When we next see Harry, he’s had many miles under his feet. Yep, he’s a hobo.

He hooks up with other hobos who really want nothing to do with him. He becomes a chicken thief (Harry getting the chickens to jump into his coat is some pretty funny stuff), and (after being caught) manages to lose his hobo bundle and mistakenly acquire a beehive on his hobo stick. Mayhem ensues, including Harry doing wild gymnastics as a result of bee stings and being hired by a traveling circus. In trying to fit in with the other roustabouts, Harry (aided by Anna May, the elephant) end up moving trunks (get it?) to where the bearded lady is preparing. She’s wistful, since she realizes that the circus is playing right across from Harry’s old orphanage. (Psst! She’s Rosemary!) Curious, she sends a note, via Harry, to the orphanage. He, being already smitten with her, does not deliver it, but returns with a note saying that he is Harry. The bearded lady is revealed as Rosemary, realizes that Harry is Harry, and THE END.

In The Live Wire, Johnny Hines plays a specialized performer, whose “act” is sliding down a wire upside down, on his head (with the use of a cap designed just for that purpose). While playing a certain city, he is smitten with a girl in the audience (played by Flora Finch) who gives him a souvenir balloon with the name of the city on it. Alas, he’s unable to continue the act due to a nagging neck injury, so he and his sidekick, “Sawdust,” hit the roads. Well actually the rails, hobo style. Meanwhile, the “girl” and a guy who wants to be her beau (in order to take control of her father’s electric company—boo, hiss!) come to an agreement about wiring up an amusement park with electric lights. Papa gives daughter one half of the stock certificates (to keep control in the family) which doesn’t please the beau. So the beau begins sabotaging the electric works for the grand opening of the amusement park.

At this point, our hero and “Sawdust” show up in town, our hero remembers the name because he still has the balloon, recognizes the girl, finds out about the nefarious doings of the beau and organizes his old circus friends to make sure that all of the electrics can be fully functioning. (Did everyone follow that?!?) Our hero sets up a signal that on his first whistle, the lights will go on. At the second whistle, they’ll go off. Of course, the only way to ensure that the lights even can go on is our hero strapping on his old circus hat and once more sliding down the wire to complete the circuitry. He does! He whistles! Lights go on! She finally realizes who he is! He whistles! They kiss! Afterwards, our hero is offered some of Papa’s stock certificates. In order to keep control in the family, he proposes, she accepts and all (except the nefarious beau) are set for happily ever after!

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The Quest: Don Quixote and Other Wanderers

Carnegie Neighborhood Concert

This is a very worthwhile endeavor, bringing free concerts to all five boroughs. This one was also a part of the Marilyn Horne legacy at Carnegie Hall.

Andrew Garland, baritone, with Warren Jones, piano, presented a very well thought out song recital on Saturday. The program was:

Songs of Travel, Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872–1958); Der Wanderer (D. 489), An Schwager Kronos (D. 369), and Der Musensohn (D. 764), Franz Schubert (1797–1828); Selections from Cantos di Cifar y del mar dulce, Gabriela Lena Frank (b. 1972); Don Quichotte à Dulcinée, Maurice Ravel (1875–1937); Selections from American Folk Set, Steven Mark Kohn (b. 1957); and The Impossible Dream, from Man of La Mancha, Mitch Leigh (b. 1928).

Songs of Travel is a cycle of nine songs. After the first, The Vagabond, Mr. Garland wisely halted applause. His nicely modulated voice served this cycle very well. The second song in the cycle had an arpeggiated accompaniment while the third had a more lied-like accompaniment à la Schubert. I have often heard individual songs from this cycle but this was my first hearing of the cycle in its entirety and it was most enjoyable.

The Schubert set was well performed, though I found the tempo for the third song to be almost too brisk. My opinion could possibly be colored by well-loved recordings that I’ve listened to over and over.

Intermission. At the end of the intermission, it was announced that Ms. Horne was in attendance. There was an audible gasp. Ms. Horne, gracious as always, joked that—yes, she was still alive. It’s obvious that the song recital is near and dear to her heart.

Of the three Gabriela Lena Frank songs presented (ostensibly part of a larger cycle to be completed at a later date), two were commissioned by the Horne Foundation. The first presented individual phrases that sounded almost medieval in nature and also included spoken words in pitched phrases. The three were quasi-operatic in nature and Mr. Garland successfully altered his tone and vocal presence for these three—with less obvious vocal technique and more straight-ahead singing.

Ravel brought us back to a concert/song recital technique, with nicely varied tempos and presentations.

The Kohn folk set presented folk songs and tunes in new settings, reminiscent of Aaron Copland. Once again, Mr. Garland switched gears vocally and gave us a less formal sound, well suited to these folk settings. With “The Impossible Dream,” we essentially had the consummate “wanderer” song, but to my ear it was a little bit too clipped and a little bit too hurried. Yes, I know, interpretations can vary—that’s just my take on this interpretation.

Throughout, Mr. Jones was an impressive collaborator. Did he actually compose the encore—Way out West on Westin Avenue? Mr. Garland sang it with an appropriate twang—and then I realized that the same twang had been used in the folk song set. Perhaps a little bit of variation is in order. Still, overall this was a fine song recital performed extremely well.

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