Saturday’s chamber music program was titled The Music of the Kennedy White House: 1961–1963 and featured The Serendip Piano Trio – Christiana Liberis, violin; In Hwa Lee, cello; and Alexander Wu, piano, arranger. Par for the course for a concert with Mr. Wu, he had interesting tidbits that he shared with us about the pieces on the program.
I. Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847), Piano Trio No. 2 in d minor, opus 49, third movement – Scherzo – Leggero e vivace
II. Albert Hay Malotte (arr. by C. Deis), The Lord’s Prayer; George Gershwin (1898–1937), Virtuoso Etudes based on Gershwin (1924) (arr. by Earl Wild), Etude No. 3, The Man I Love, Etude No. 7, Fascinatin’ Rhythm
III. Leonard Bernstein (1918–1990), Somewhere from West Side Story, for violin and piano (arr. by R. Penaforte)
IV. Aaron Copland (1900–1990), Hoe-Down from Rodeo (Ballet Suite) (arr. by A. Wu)
V. Pablo Casals (1876–1973), Cant dell Ocells (Song of the Birds), for cello and piano
VI. Dave Brubeck (1920–2012), Blue Rondo a la Turk
VII. Paquito D’Rivera (b. 1948), Danzón (best guess, as it was announced from the stage)
VIII. Mendelssohn, Piano Trio No. 2 in d minor, opus 49, fourth movement – Finale – Allegro assai appassionato
All of the pieces had links to the Kennedy White House, but I may not have written all of them down. Pablo Casals played the Mendelssohn piano trio there, and he often ended concerts with his own Cant dell Ocells (and did so at the WH). Earl Wild played for the Kennedys and at the WH of five other presidents. Dave Brubeck played for the Kennedys, and saxophonist Paul Winter played the D’Rivera for the Kennedy WH. So, on to the music.
The Mendelssohn Scherzo was a bright and energetic way to open the concert and it had a delightful ending; the Finale was a brisk romp and a great way to close the concert. The famous Malotte “Lord’s Prayer” was played as a tribute to spirituals and the civil rights aspect of the times. Apparently Mahalia Jackson sang it there—this was a piano solo. The Earl Wild etudes are really wonderful pieces (I think I may have commented on them before). “The Man I Love” was a bit tentative, but Mr. Wu tore at the keyboard for a virtuosic performance of “Fascinatin’ Rhythm.” After it was over he said, slightly under his breath, “Too many notes.” I disagree and I’m pleased that I got to hear all of them.
“Somewhere” was a combination of a straightforward rendering with some jazz riffs thrown in for good measure. “Hoe-Down” was full-bodied fun, with a false ending and then an ending that actually topped it. The Casals cello piece had a mournful quality (hello! It’s the cello!) but also somehow a positive spin. Maybe the freedom of the birds? (That’s my spin and I’m sticking with it.)
The Brubeck was bluesy and jazzy—perfect for the Kennedy era. It took a basic 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8 (or 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8) rhythm and re-formed it to 1-2-3-1-2-3-1-2. I hope that makes sense. Try tapping the rhythm yourself. (Try it twice.) D’Rivera’s danzón had ballad-like sections contrasted with Latin rhythmic sections in a true mix of classical and jazz techniques.
All three musicians were top-notch players and they performed with that chamber music mentality where at any given time any one of the three is running the show. But really, Mr. Wu ran the show—he’s just a darned good entertainer, and his commentary is clear, easily accessible, and fun.
An Astor Piazzolla tango, “Oblivion,” written as part of a film score or used in a film score, was a well-played encore. It had a calm opening, was tuneful and easy to listen to, and was full and rich. Much like the entire afternoon.
ConcertMeister
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Chamber Music (11/5/13)
But with a twist. On Tuesday evening I heard Wolfgang Panhofer, cello, and Alfred Melichar, accordion, in a program of Vivaldi, Gubaidulina, Schubert, Verdi, Bischof, Kohn, and Piazzolla. Eclectic, to say the least. Cello and accordion? It was not quite as out of place as you might think. The accordion acted as an accompanying partner, much as a piano or an organ might.
Antonio Vivaldi (1678–1741) – Sonata in E Minor, RV 40; Largo, Allegro,
Largo, Allegro
Sofia Gubaidulina (1931–) – In Croce
Franz Schubert (1797–1828) –
Die schöne Müllerin, D. 795; Die Liebe Farbe, Trockne Blumen, Der Müller und
der Bach
Winterreise, D. 911; Irrlicht, Der stürmische Morgen, Der Leiermann
Die Forelle, D. 550
Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1902) – Messa da Requiem; Ingemisco
Rainer Bischof (1947–) – Cadenza (World Premiere)
Karl Kohn (1926–) – Canzonetta for accordion (US Premiere)
Astor Piazzolla (1921–1922) – Le Grand Tango
In the Vivaldi, I noticed a very full tone from the cello with a lighter, almost piano—or, more to the point, hurdy-gurdy—accompaniment. The second Largo movement had lyrical phrases (more so than the first Largo) and the final movement was Vivaldi at his jauntiest.
Ms. Gubaidulina’s very modern work reminded me more of cello and organ, with the accordion playing very close dissonant notes, half-step and whole-step juxtapositions, while the cello played mostly short phrases within a very small range with a swooping gesture to end the phrases. A frantic section followed where both instruments essentially shrieked, then the cellist strummed a single string and bounced the bow off of the strings over the equivalent of a pedal point (one sustained pitch for a long period of time) from the accordion.
Schubert’s songs were interesting to hear in this context, though I’m not familiar enough with either of the song cycles to really compare them to the original intent. It was also a little strange to hear them without all of the repeats, but without the strophic texts, it really wasn’t necessary. Of the three Winterreise songs, the first had a very effective diminuendo from the accordion at the end; the second was very brief, with a martial quality; and the third was quite melancholy.
Ingemisco finally gave me what I had been craving all along—a really singing tone from the cello and a more fully supportive sound from the accordion. Part of that was Verdi, I’m sure, but that fullness had been lacking earlier.
Cadenza requires a little bit of explanation. A cadenza is a brief solo at the end of a concerto movement that is sometimes improvised, sometimes hinted at by the composer, and sometimes truly composed. In this case, Mr. Panhofer will be playing a cello concerto by Arthur Honegger in Moscow in the near future. This cadenza (I’m not sure for which movement) was composed by Rainer Bischof for that occasion. Mr. Panhofer wisely chose to premiere the cadenza here rather than waiting for the concerto performance. It was certainly fiery and at several points he snapped the strings so hard that they thwacked against the fingerboard. I’m pretty sure that was the intent.
The Kohn Canzonetta was composed for Mr. Melichar and consisted of short phrases along with some more sustained, almost Romantic-feeling phrases and included “shakes” and “wheezes” as well as other varied accordion techniques.
Piazzolla’s tango was definitely dance-like, exploiting and exploring traditional phrases and then expanding them and expounding on them. This turned them into a very contemporary piece while not losing the tango’s historical feel and flare.
A note on the accordion—the style played was a button accordion, where there are not the usual (to me) piano-style keys.
http://tinyurl.com/owjz4r8
It seems to me that this increased the range of the right hand (melody hand) by quite a bit.
ConcertMeister
Antonio Vivaldi (1678–1741) – Sonata in E Minor, RV 40; Largo, Allegro,
Largo, Allegro
Sofia Gubaidulina (1931–) – In Croce
Franz Schubert (1797–1828) –
Die schöne Müllerin, D. 795; Die Liebe Farbe, Trockne Blumen, Der Müller und
der Bach
Winterreise, D. 911; Irrlicht, Der stürmische Morgen, Der Leiermann
Die Forelle, D. 550
Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1902) – Messa da Requiem; Ingemisco
Rainer Bischof (1947–) – Cadenza (World Premiere)
Karl Kohn (1926–) – Canzonetta for accordion (US Premiere)
Astor Piazzolla (1921–1922) – Le Grand Tango
In the Vivaldi, I noticed a very full tone from the cello with a lighter, almost piano—or, more to the point, hurdy-gurdy—accompaniment. The second Largo movement had lyrical phrases (more so than the first Largo) and the final movement was Vivaldi at his jauntiest.
Ms. Gubaidulina’s very modern work reminded me more of cello and organ, with the accordion playing very close dissonant notes, half-step and whole-step juxtapositions, while the cello played mostly short phrases within a very small range with a swooping gesture to end the phrases. A frantic section followed where both instruments essentially shrieked, then the cellist strummed a single string and bounced the bow off of the strings over the equivalent of a pedal point (one sustained pitch for a long period of time) from the accordion.
Schubert’s songs were interesting to hear in this context, though I’m not familiar enough with either of the song cycles to really compare them to the original intent. It was also a little strange to hear them without all of the repeats, but without the strophic texts, it really wasn’t necessary. Of the three Winterreise songs, the first had a very effective diminuendo from the accordion at the end; the second was very brief, with a martial quality; and the third was quite melancholy.
Ingemisco finally gave me what I had been craving all along—a really singing tone from the cello and a more fully supportive sound from the accordion. Part of that was Verdi, I’m sure, but that fullness had been lacking earlier.
Cadenza requires a little bit of explanation. A cadenza is a brief solo at the end of a concerto movement that is sometimes improvised, sometimes hinted at by the composer, and sometimes truly composed. In this case, Mr. Panhofer will be playing a cello concerto by Arthur Honegger in Moscow in the near future. This cadenza (I’m not sure for which movement) was composed by Rainer Bischof for that occasion. Mr. Panhofer wisely chose to premiere the cadenza here rather than waiting for the concerto performance. It was certainly fiery and at several points he snapped the strings so hard that they thwacked against the fingerboard. I’m pretty sure that was the intent.
The Kohn Canzonetta was composed for Mr. Melichar and consisted of short phrases along with some more sustained, almost Romantic-feeling phrases and included “shakes” and “wheezes” as well as other varied accordion techniques.
Piazzolla’s tango was definitely dance-like, exploiting and exploring traditional phrases and then expanding them and expounding on them. This turned them into a very contemporary piece while not losing the tango’s historical feel and flare.
A note on the accordion—the style played was a button accordion, where there are not the usual (to me) piano-style keys.
http://tinyurl.com/owjz4r8
It seems to me that this increased the range of the right hand (melody hand) by quite a bit.
ConcertMeister
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Barber and Moore (10/26/13)
Well, the title was certainly misleading—pianist Benjamin Bradham did play a Samuel Barber sonata, as well as works by Mozart, Beethoven Brahms, and Liszt. Maybe Moore was supposed to be More?
W. A. Mozart (1756–1791) – Rondo in D major; K. 485; Rondo in a minor, K. 511
L. van Beethoven (1770–1827) – Sonata in f minor (“Appassionata”), Op. 57, Allegro assai, Andante con moto, Allegro ma non troppo
Johannes Brahms (1833–1897) – Capriccio in f-sharp minor, Op. 76, No. 1; Intermezzo in B-flat Major, Op. 76, No. 4; Capriccio in g minor, Op. 116, No. 3; Intermezzo, Op. 116, No. 6
Franz Liszt (1811–1886) – Valse Oubliée (“Forgotten Waltz”); Transcendental Etude No. 10 in f minor
Samuel Barber (1910–1981) – Sonata in e-flat minor, Op. 26 (1949), Allegro energico, Allegro vivace e leggiero, Adagio mesto, Fugue: Allegro con spirito
The opening Rondo had a lightness, but also some heft, and there was a lot of variation in the piece. The second had a calm beginning that was gentle but not somber; however, it did not hold my interest as well as the first. It did, though, explore depths that I don’t usually associate with Mozart and was less predictable than I expected.
The Beethoven sonata had wide-ranging themes and used various styles of composition including bursts of power. With its chorale-like opening that then expanded, it felt meditative, even in the faster sections. In general, it was well contained, never getting away from the pianist (though I think there were a few fingering flubs).
The first of the Brahms pieces was pleasant, with harmonies that were deeper and steeped in the Romantic era. The second was gentle and fuller while the third had an explosive opening followed by a contrasting section and was grander than the first capriccio. The last reminded me of a song, at least in the opening, and then moved on to different sections that didn’t quite mesh together, for me, finishing with a gentle ending.
The Liszt waltz was playful and segmented, with a very odd ending. I got the feeling of a soirée or parlor piece as opposed to a more formal composition. The etude that followed had more of the pianistic fireworks I associate with Liszt and was much more fully realized than the waltz was.
Finally, the Barber sonata was totally new to me—modern sounding but with a form that I could follow. My notes include: “a bit of bombast, but to what purpose?” The second movement had a light feel, with repeated motifs, almost like a music box gone awry. The third was slow and fairly mesmerizing, and felt slightly adrift with modern, but pleasing, phrases. It built into a louder section then returned to quietude. The fugue opened with an angular, rhythmic theme that then seemed to splinter a bit. I didn’t really sense a lot of fugue-like phrases. All in all, I enjoyed the piece and might even try to seek out a recording in order to give it a second listen.
As an encore, Mr. Bradham played Chopin’s E Minor Prelude, an absolutely haunting way to end the afternoon.
ConcertMeister
W. A. Mozart (1756–1791) – Rondo in D major; K. 485; Rondo in a minor, K. 511
L. van Beethoven (1770–1827) – Sonata in f minor (“Appassionata”), Op. 57, Allegro assai, Andante con moto, Allegro ma non troppo
Johannes Brahms (1833–1897) – Capriccio in f-sharp minor, Op. 76, No. 1; Intermezzo in B-flat Major, Op. 76, No. 4; Capriccio in g minor, Op. 116, No. 3; Intermezzo, Op. 116, No. 6
Franz Liszt (1811–1886) – Valse Oubliée (“Forgotten Waltz”); Transcendental Etude No. 10 in f minor
Samuel Barber (1910–1981) – Sonata in e-flat minor, Op. 26 (1949), Allegro energico, Allegro vivace e leggiero, Adagio mesto, Fugue: Allegro con spirito
The opening Rondo had a lightness, but also some heft, and there was a lot of variation in the piece. The second had a calm beginning that was gentle but not somber; however, it did not hold my interest as well as the first. It did, though, explore depths that I don’t usually associate with Mozart and was less predictable than I expected.
The Beethoven sonata had wide-ranging themes and used various styles of composition including bursts of power. With its chorale-like opening that then expanded, it felt meditative, even in the faster sections. In general, it was well contained, never getting away from the pianist (though I think there were a few fingering flubs).
The first of the Brahms pieces was pleasant, with harmonies that were deeper and steeped in the Romantic era. The second was gentle and fuller while the third had an explosive opening followed by a contrasting section and was grander than the first capriccio. The last reminded me of a song, at least in the opening, and then moved on to different sections that didn’t quite mesh together, for me, finishing with a gentle ending.
The Liszt waltz was playful and segmented, with a very odd ending. I got the feeling of a soirée or parlor piece as opposed to a more formal composition. The etude that followed had more of the pianistic fireworks I associate with Liszt and was much more fully realized than the waltz was.
Finally, the Barber sonata was totally new to me—modern sounding but with a form that I could follow. My notes include: “a bit of bombast, but to what purpose?” The second movement had a light feel, with repeated motifs, almost like a music box gone awry. The third was slow and fairly mesmerizing, and felt slightly adrift with modern, but pleasing, phrases. It built into a louder section then returned to quietude. The fugue opened with an angular, rhythmic theme that then seemed to splinter a bit. I didn’t really sense a lot of fugue-like phrases. All in all, I enjoyed the piece and might even try to seek out a recording in order to give it a second listen.
As an encore, Mr. Bradham played Chopin’s E Minor Prelude, an absolutely haunting way to end the afternoon.
ConcertMeister
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