Raj Bhimani, Piano (2/21/15)

Raj Bhimani played a very nice program on Saturday afternoon.

Preludes, Book 1 (1910) – Claude Debussy (1862–1918)
I. Dancers at Delphi (I’ll be using the English translations)
II. Sails/Veils
III. Wind on the Plain
IV. “Sounds and Fragrances Turn in the Night Air”
V. The Hills of Anacapri
VI. Footsteps in the Snow
VII. What the West Wind Saw
VIII. The Girl with the Flaxen Hair
IX. The Interrupted Serenade
X. The Sunken Cathedral
XI. Puck’s Dance
XII. Minstrels (the same in French and English)

Océanides (1988) – Thérèse Brenet (1935–    )

Sonata in C Minor, D. 958 (1828) – Franz Schubert (1797–1828)

Since the music of Debussy and others of his era is often called ‘impressionistic,’ I’m going to offer impressions of the individual preludes. Debussy wrote two books of twelve each, and while there’s no suggestion that they’re made to be played all together, there are precedents, so that’s what we heard here.

I. Slow opening, slightly mesmerizing, finished with a solid major chord; II. Introducing more ‘impressionistic’ flourishes, still with some repetitive rhythms and touches of orientalism, as well; III. Ripples of notes, plus some explosive phrases, fade away to nothing; IV. Definitely impressionistic, but more of a sense of romance and sensuality, with some angularity thrown in; V. Moody opening, jaunty tunes, what felt like a bit of a dance, finishing in the upper registers of the keyboard; VI. Quietude, calm but not somber—even though there was a range of dynamics, gave an impression of muffled sound; VII. Arpeggiated lower range wind, then with stronger gusts—good range of dynamics, harsh at times, written to be very powerful—sudden ending; VIII. Tuneful, recognizable to me (probably to a lot of you, too [Girl with the Flaxen Hair]), gentle but still varied dynamically and in sentiment; IX. Very rhythmic, choppy opening, short, calmer interludes—bouncing back and forth between themes/phrases, jolly little ending; X. Gentle, somewhat mysterious sounding, then on to a dramatic louder section, thick prominent block chords, then a retreat to the calmer sounds; XI. Lively, rhythmic—at one point, busy left hand with the right hand providing repetitive rhythmic accompaniment, light fun ending; XII. Rhythmic and dancelike, phrases repeated, but with some shaking up, surprisingly tonal ending.

Well, those are my impressions—literally the notes I wrote to myself during the performance. I hope they made an impression on you.

Océanides was a piece written for the left hand alone; very often, pieces are commissioned for the left hand alone, especially if a pianist has lost the use of a right arm or hand.

Beginning in the extreme lower register of the piano, the piece uses the pedals quite a bit, in order to create a wash of sound and to let the left hand provide both accompaniment and melody/chords. The very modern harmonies were slightly harsh at times. There was also a march-like section—sounding like actual marching. While the piece used interesting composition and performance techniques, it didn’t really speak to me in the long run.

The Schubert sonata was, to my ears, all in all a heavy work, with its themes and constant hints of darkness; heavy, without being ponderous.

The first movement had a very dramatic opening, then a tuneful section that also included lots of chords. A shift to a dance-like section incorporated a large variety of themes and sections, still with a sense of drama, even in the quieter sections. It seemed almost overstuffed, to me. The second started with what seemed to be a song or chorale. There were pretty tunes; it was sort of like a collection of dark, dramatic songs.

The third movement had a rippling accompaniment, still with a dark undercurrent, even in the rapid finger work passages. There was finally a touch of brightness, even though it stayed in a minor key and still with a sense of drama. The final movement was very dramatic and almost frantic at times. It too had that slightly overstuffed feeling as in the first movement. I liked it, even with the heaviness and darkness. I didn’t realize until checking the program and the dates that it was written in the last year of Schubert’s short life. Maybe there’s a reason for that heaviness and darkness.

Mr. Bhimani played the entire concert from memory and did a great job. His control of the dynamics and flow of the entire concert was very good—as in, you weren’t aware of the technique and ebb and flow while it was happening, and that’s a good thing.

ConcertMeister

Romance à la Roach (2/14/15)

Silent films on a Valentine’s Day afternoon, courtesy of Silent Cinema Presentations, Inc. and the Hal Roach Studio. These were very funny. There were three two-reelers and one three-reeler: His Wooden Wedding (1925), From Hand to Mouth (1919), The Nickel Hopper (1926), and Don’t Tell Everything (1927).

The very interesting program notes by Steve Massa referenced the fact that Roach’s studio lot was nicknamed “the Lot of Fun”, and it certainly showed in His Wooden Wedding, which featured (as did the others) more sight gags and less slapstick. On a chap’s wedding day (Charley Chase), his best man (not!) slips the groom an anonymous note stating that his bride to be (Katherine Grant) has a wooden leg. He even places a wooden cane next to the bride’s leg as the couple is kneeling in church. The groom feels the wood and does a major freak-out, rushing out of the church. After the best man underhandedly retrieves the very expensive engagement ring, havoc is wreaked as the ring stays just out of his reach. The bride learns the truth and goes off after her groom. There were lots of funny bits, including boomerang-style flying hats, the bride chasing after an ocean liner in her father’s yacht, and the best man getting his comeuppance from the bride’s decidedly not wooden leg. People in the audience, me included, were literally laughing out loud.

From Hand to Mouth starred Harold Lloyd as a man with no money, trying to find a way to get some food. Along the way, he is joined by a young waif and her pooch. He gets rescued by an heiress (Mildred Davis), and finally is able to feed himself and the waif, and the dog, but not before some funny shtick including loading up on lots of food only to find out that the money he used was counterfeit, and having to give all the food back. He then gets a chance to rescue the heiress from a bunch of no-goodniks out to swipe her inheritance. He saves the day and gets the girl.

The Nickel Hopper starred Mabel Normand as a dance-hall girl who gets twirled around the floor, at five cents a pop, in various funny vignettes. One of the more extended bits has Boris Karloff getting a bit too touchy-feely, so Mabel dispatches him with the help of a blind man and a policeman—I’m not making this up, you know! Partially written by Stan Laurel, there’s also a very funny recurring bit with Oliver Hardy as a jazz drummer. The plot involves Mabel still living with her parents and having to give all of her wages to her loafing-at-home father, who even goes so far as to steer possible suitors away from his little money maker. But she finally meets a decent fellow and manages to find a little bit of happiness ever after. There was lots of funny stuff, here.

Don’t Tell Everything gets some of its humor from a man sort of disowning his son because the rich widow he wants to marry is appalled at the boy’s behavior at a party. Nevertheless, they marry and the boy tries to sneak into the home (in drag) disguised as a hired maid. The plot comes full circle at the end, when the widow’s son (whom she has neglected to mention to her new hubby) turns out to be quite well known to his new stepfather.

As always, Ben Model provided crackerjack live piano accompaniment to all four films. These were some very funny shorts that had the appreciative audience members laughing with delight.

ConcertMeister

New York Repertory Orchestra (2/7/15)

Saturday evening’s concert presented music that was mostly unfamiliar to me. I also believe that this is the first NYRO concert I’ve heard that did not involve a soloist. As a result, there were no real balance problems as in the past, mostly due to the highly reverberant acoustics in the Church of St. Mary the Virgin.

Hymn and Fuguing Tune No. 2, for String Orchestra – Henry Cowell (1897–1965)
Jeu de cartes (Game of Cards), Ballet in 3 “Deals”; I. First Deal: Alla breve – Moderato assai – Tranquillo, II. Second Deal: Alla breve – Marcia – Variazioni – Coda – Marcia, III. Third Deal: Alla breve – Valse – Presto – Tempo del principo – Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971)
Symphony No 3 in A minor, Op. 56, “Scottish”; I. Andante con moto – Allegro un poco agitato, II. Vivace non troppo, III. Adagio, IV. Allegro vivacissimo – Allegro maestoso assai –
Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847)

The Cowell started with open-sounding chords, sort of like Copland, that were calm, rich, and full, with a nice shading of dynamics. At times it was a bit heavy handed though it contained solid string writing. Overall, though it was pleasant enough, it seemed a little too meandering.

Stravinsky’s Jeu began with a stately march that quickly dissolved into fragmentary phrases, and then into a flute solo with orchestral accompaniment. It was definitely playful, with shifting rhythms, but not aggressively so. As to be expected with Stravinsky, there were some lovely orchestral colors. The three movements are played without pause, and even though the program notes laid out clues to listen for—a bold, swaggering motive in march-like rhythms, stated immediately at the outset, mark[ing] the beginning of each of the three “deals”—I didn’t quite experience it that way. My notes for the second deal (I think) include that it also meandered a bit, while exploring some characteristic rhythmic and harmonic affectations. For the third, I merely have that they were rather indistinct sections. Maybe on a second hearing, I’d be able to distinguish the sections a little better.

After intermission, Mendelssohn’s Symphony began with a slightly brooding feel, including a melody for the entire violin section, leading to a fairly full-bodied section that was very melodic and pretty. It was relatively dramatic but without the heavy handedness I experienced in the Cowell earlier. The second movement was lively and lovely—tuneful and very pleasant—Mendelssohn with his brilliant light touch. The third movement was somber to begin with and maintained that quietly somber feeling throughout most of the movement. I sort of let the last movement just wash over me, not taking any notes at all. It was full bodied, with a contrasting quieter section, and then building up to a full and majestic finish. I was familiar with some of the themes, but not overly so.

David Leibowitz, the Music Director/Conductor, kept his charges nicely under control all evening, including being well balanced throughout, as noted earlier. So many of the concerts I attend are smaller ensembles, so it’s nice to hear a full orchestra every once in a while. It’s also nice to hear music that is new to me. There are two more concerts to come in their current season, and I’ll probably try to make both of them.

ConcertMeister

Dirt (2/4/15)

Dirt, written by Robert Schneider in 1993 and starring Christopher Domig, is a one-man play reflecting on the racism and xenophobia of Western people in the way that they react to illegal immigrants, in this case, Sad (pronounced sahd), an Iraqi.

It was thought provoking, but less so than I thought it was going to be. Mr. Domig’s performance was very good in a role that he has been playing on and off since 2007, in a translation from the German by Paul Dvorak. Some parts that didn’t quite ring true, if our Western city was, presumably, New York, included ‘not seeing any dark faces’ on the streets.

Sad makes his meager living selling roses on the street, and is convinced (rightly so) that the ‘40-year-old men’ sort of look through him, even when they buy his roses. His rants, in his tiny apartment with no mailbox or nameplate on the door—he’s desperately fearful of the authorities—range from loving his new country to loving the English language to loving park benches, though he would never sit on one. He doesn’t deserve that right. What we’re not sure of is whether that’s his belief or ours. While it’s a one-man show, there are other characters referred to, including his mother, wife, and son, still in Iraq, and an off-stage roommate, another illegal immigrant, who is an Egyptian.

It doesn’t help that, about three-quarters into the 70-minute, intermission-less monologue, Sad tells us that he’s been lying. About his name, his wife’s name, about everything. Great; now we have to both re-think everything he’s said and decide what we really believe and what we think he really believes.

At times touching, humorous, and eerie, it does make us (or at least me) look at our own ideas concerning illegal immigrants. Whether it will change anything is a deeply personal situation. It made a strong case, if a bit in a nebulous way. I rarely do this, but I went online and sought out reviews of other iterations of the play—all of them that I found were performed by Mr. Domig—and I found the same, slightly wishy-washy response as mine reflected in quite a few of them.

I’m glad I saw it, and thank you, Austrian Cultural Forum New York, for presenting it. I just wanted it to be a little bit more than it was. Or maybe it was just me.

ConcertMeister

Poetry and Music (1/31/15)

On a yucky* Saturday afternoon, a full house showed up for “My Business Is to Sing:” Emily Dickinson, Musician and Poet. This was a quasi-theatrical lecture/concert, curated by George Boziwick, Music Division Chief of Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts. The performers were the Red Skies Ensemble, with Elise Toscano as Emily Dickinson. Some of the program seemed familiar to me; indeed, the same crew performed “The Musical Parlor of Emily Dickinson” on December 8, 2012 at the library.

The program consisted of ten short vignettes, including narratives, readings, and musical performances (not all vignettes had all three components). Where the 2012 version focused on Ms. Dickinson’s music binder, which was also referred to here, the current version focused more on how her musicianship and love of music influenced her writing. On to the music.

The first piece, Wood Up Quickstep (1834), with music by John Holloway, was played by the ensemble, which included piano, bass, mandolin, percussion, and banjo, fiddle, and harmonica (those last three played by one performer). Additionally, Mr. Boziwick played harmonica in a couple of other pieces. The Quickstep was a folk-like dance tune that started off simply and then became more intricate and interesting. That was followed by Home Sweet Home (1823), with music by John Howard Payne and words by Sir Henry Bishop, played by the ensemble and sung by Ms. Toscano. As I mentioned in 2012, I’m not sure whether or not Ms. Toscano was using a thin vocal sound as a character determiner, but her reedy soprano was effective for the most part. The tune was the familiar one, though it seemed to have some variants (or maybe the tune as I know it is the variant?). Interestingly, here as in a few other places, the sheet music was projected on a screen behind the performers. This was a piece that was in Ms. Dickinson’s music binder—collected sheet music that included many of her favorites, that were then sent off to, and bound by, a printer. Ms. Dickinson’s was quite large, at more than one hundred pieces!

Are We Almost There (1845), with words and music by Florence Vane, was a simple tune and text written in response to a dying friend, who wanted to make it home before expiring but, alas, did not. It was touching and plaintive, as sung here. There’s a Good Time Coming (1846), words and music by Charles MacKay and E.L. White, was up tempo, and still appropriately simple, which is perfect for home musicians, performing popular songs of the day. This piece was also performed in the 2012 version.

Fisher’s Hornpipe was an up tempo dance tune, showing the influence of Irish and, later, minstrel music in Ms. Dickinson’s binder. Old Dan Tucker (1844), words and music by Daniel Decauter Emmitt, was a real crowd pleaser on Saturday afternoon, with Ms. Toscano and the ensemble (who added some vocal harmonies to the refrain), and Mr. Boziwick on harmonica. The Devil’s Dream, played on mandolin and piano, joined later by pizzicato fiddle, was an example of improvisation as it might have been performed by Emily Dickinson.

In the “My Business Is to Sing” vignette, Ms. Dickinson’s poetry, as influenced by hymn writing of the day, was set to the tune “St. Anne” by William Croft, perhaps better known as “O God Our Help in Ages Past.” Ms. Dickinson’s text was “This Is My Letter to the World.” The audience was encouraged to sing along. This was the weakest segment, in general, and certainly my least favorite. John Anderson My Jo, a traditional Scottish song, was the final musical offering, a somewhat plaintive ballad that was quite effective.

All of these, paired with the readings (letters written by, and to, Ms. Dickinson, as well as some of her poems) and narratives from Mr. Boziwick, made for a fun, educational afternoon performance. My only quibble was that during Old Dan Tucker, even though she was using a microphone, Ms. Toscano was slightly overpowered by the ensemble, and it was a little hard to hear her. Well, that and including the audience in the sing along segment.

*Not an official meteorological term.

ConcertMeister