Midday Masterpieces (12/6/17)

Ji Won Song, violin; Richard Fu, piano

Schumann: “F-A-E” Sonata – II. Intermezzo
Schumann: Violin Sonata No. 1 in A minor
Brahms: Violin Sonata No. 2 in A major
Brahms: “F-A-E” Sonata – III. Scherzo
Sibelius: Mazurka, Op. 81, No. 1

OK, I’m hopelessly behind and out of order, but I did work backwards for a week or so. For those of you reading closely, you’re probably going, “What is an ‘F-A-E’ Sonata, and how did two people write it?” Well three people wrote it! It’s worth a Google/Yahoo! search.

The first work on the program had a slowly rippling piano introduction followed by a song-like violin tune, all in a minor key. It really was not sad and was quite beautiful with its Romantic (rich, lush, easy to listen to) harmonies.

The first movement of the Schumann sonata also had a strong Romantic feel—full and deep, leading into a few pyrotechnics from both players but very enjoyable to listen to. There was drama, though it was a controlled drama. The second movement was calmer yet still full bodied in both writing and playing. It was also easy on the ears and some of the sections had an almost Hungarian/Gypsy feel to them, ending with a lovely, light pizzicato. The third movement was brisk with an almost perpetual motion feel to it. All three movements featured motifs of short, dramatic bursts, with the third closing out with a bang-up finish.

The Brahms sonata opened with lyrical and richly Romantic sections balanced with sections that had more speed and more volume that bounced back and forth between lyrical and forceful. The second movement was calmer and quieter to begin with, moving into slightly jaunty, with lots of musical ideas jumbled together in a pleasant way. The last movement was solid and relatively straightforward while adding a mix of styles and phrases, followed by a surprisingly subdued ending.

The “F-A-E” scherzo by Brahms was brisk and dynamic, with pushed rhythmic phrases that were quite dramatic at times. Hmm, maybe I should seek out a recording (or a live performance) of the entire “F-A-E” sonata.

The Sibelius mazurka that closed out the program had a Gypsy flavor and also had sweet, dance-like phrases and tunes, with swoops, sweeps and plucks—all utterly charming! Both players were strong and charming throughout the hour-long concert. Thank you, WQXR and Juilliard for teaming up with this great performance series. I’ll be back for more.

ConcertMeister

Bell by Bell (12/21/17)

This was a blast! Part of Make Music Winter, a program that actually takes place on both solstices, winter and summer, this was run-of-the-mill, regular folks ringing bells based on signals by flag-waving leaders. I’m not making this up you know.

Even kids could do it. People arrived, chose colored bells and then played them as directed by colored flags. Well, it wasn’t quite that simple. There were some logistical problems at the beginning—duh—not everyone had a bell and some people had two. Once that was settled, we were ready to begin. Also, the five (for each song) leaders had to sync and start their hand-held devices at the top of each piece. There were at least three false starts. So much for technology.

There was a sound check before each piece (not every bell was used in every piece), and that was quite helpful. When your leader raised his (I’m not being sexist here, they were all guys) flag, you rang your bell. It created a wash of sound. Were there tunes? For the most part, no.

We started in Tompkins Square Park then, after playing two tunes, we walked to Avenue B and Fifth Street, playing two more tunes there (we were encouraged to ring our bells while walking—and got pleasant responses from passersby) before ending up at Avenue A and Third Street.

The last piece was (if I’m remembering correctly) composed by a member of So Percussion. It was a bell riff on Silent Night. It worked pretty well. We got the tune but it was bent just a bit. Definitely a cool yule.

This is one event I’m pretty sure I’ll do again and maybe even invite friends to attend with me.

ConcertMeister

Holiday Songbook (12/16/17)

Yes, I'm still working backwards.

Classic Holiday Hits featuring Jazz Trumpet Sensation Jonathan Dely and Band

Jonathan Dely, trumpet; Holger Marjamaa, piano; Ben Eunson, guitar; Raphael Pannier, percussion; Nicolas Hetko, keyboard; Josh Allen, bass; and Julia Biedry, guest vocalist

First things first. Really? My first Songbook of the season on December 16?!? Well, yeah. Songbook (new songs by up-and-coming theater composers) is usually the last Monday evening of each month. Due to renovations at the Bruno Walter Auditorium, there was no September Songbook. On the evening of October’s Songbook, I was attending a crackerjack reading/presentation of the book Spotless, by Sherman Yellen, at the York Theatre. I even got him to sign my copy. That’s another story—just ask! The last Monday in November found me decorating BabyBro’s house in Ohio and flying back to NYC. So December it is.

Unfortunately, it was not new music. And also unfortunately, the December new music evening was an evening that I was attending (on freebie tickets that I won in a raffle) a dynamite concert at Carnegie Hall, in the smaller Zankel Hall. But I digress.

So, on to Saturday’s concert. Mr. Dely is a very talented trumpeter. He and his band are mostly guys he met and hooked up with at Manhattan School of Music. They were a pretty much together jazz band, if a little green. Yes they threw melodies and solos back and forth but it was slightly studied and stilted—sort of textbook style. Not bad, just not loose and easy.

And the Holiday Classics were more of a mix of Classics and Holiday. When I Fall in Love was the opener and it had a nice swing to it (including a brief interpolation of Santa Claus Is Coming to Town). That type of interpolation is almost always a given when it comes to holiday concerts—I’m pretty much convinced that Jingle Bells can be added as a holiday fillip or tag to just about any song in December. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas followed. While featuring Mr. Dely, he was also generous with sharing the spotlight with the rest of the band members.

Ms. Biedry entered from the back of the house (with the requisite hand-held microphone) singing Baby It’s Cold Outside. It was sort of an odd duet, with vocalist and trumpeter. Still, it was relatively effective. Soapbox time. There really is no reason to have, in a 250-person house, all six instrumentalists and one vocalist amplified. Unless, of course, you’re relying on a sound engineer to give you the perfect blend. But that should be saved for the recording studio. One of the joys of hearing live music is hearing really live, as it sounds in the room, music. OK, off my soapbox now. I just felt as though I had to give it a try.

Winter Wonderland was followed with La Vie en Rose. The omnipresent and trending Hallelujah was followed with Mr. Dely’s own new age-y arrangement of My Favorite Things. Ms. Biedry was back with an in-the-house version of The Very Thought of You (once again duet style, with Mr. Dely also in the house). This was the rather low key finale. After some very supportive words from John Znidarsic, the brains behind all of the Songbook programming, Mr. Dely and Mr. Marjamaa presented an encore, My Funny Valentine.

Mr. Dely and all of his bandmates here have a pretty good feel for jazz, though they’re also more than happy to add their own twists and turns. An interesting concert, just not the Songbook that I was hoping for. To paraphrase Mr. Sondheim, well, maybe next month.

ConcertMeister

Christmas Caroling (12/17/17)

Okay folks, I'm working backwards here, only become some posts need less commentary than others. I attended today's West Village Chorale's 43rd Annual Carol Walk. It was ... enjoyable. Having done this several years in a row, I know that the group leaders make all the difference. Today's were ... not quite enjoyable. After asking for input—standing in place and singing or strolling and singing—we pretty much did what the group leader wanted. Until it didn't work. Walking and singing did not work. One group leader walked really fast while one didn't really try to keep up. So a lot was out of sync.

We hit most of the usuals—Silent Night, We Three Kings, Frosty the Snowman, Jingle Bells, Hark the Herald, We Wish You ... with even a White Christmas thrown in. But they were lackluster. My props were appreciated—tinkling bell for Jingle Bells and Silver Bells, plus the requisite red nose for ... well, you know. The group had lots of followers (in our group—we never really drew much of an audience, though we did get some nice feedback from passers-by). Every time I added a bit of harmony, the folks near me seemed to not know the tune any more. I didn't try that very often. One restaurant invited us in for a couple of songs and that went pretty well.

Will I try it again? Sure. You never know who you'll get as group leaders. And I had a good time singing, the weather was cooperative, and everyone seemed to have, at least, a good time.

ConcertMeister

New York Classical Players (12/2/17)

Chamber Music by Samuel Barber and Aaron Copland
Rachel Kudo, piano; Alice Woo, cello; Paul Won Jin Cho, clarinet;
Siwoo Kim, violin; Brian Bak, violin; Cong Wu, viola

Ballade for piano, op. 46 (1977) – Samuel Barber (1910–1981)
Cello Sonata in C minor, op. 6 (1932) – I. Allegro ma non troppo; II. Adagio; III. Allegro appassionato – Barber
Sonata for clarinet and piano (1943, arr. 1980) – I. Andante semplice;
II. Lento; III. Allegretto giusto – Aaron Copland (1900–1990)
Sextet for clarinet, piano, and string quartet (1937) – I. Allegro vivace;
II. Lento; III. Finale. Precise and rhythmic – Copland

Barber’s ballade began rather calmly and then turned louder, with a mix of dissonances as well as more traditional harmonies. It was at times mysterious and at others rambunctious, presenting quite a few different musical ideas and sounds, with silence being used often and effectively. Still, it didn’t really come together for me.

The sonata had a very dramatic opening and was fairly dissonant, in general, though there were some parts with nice tunes that were easier to listen to. A false ending led to a more energetic section. After wandering a lot, musically, with some very lovely lines along the way, the first movement ended very gently. The second movement was song-like and soulful, followed by a rapid, contrasting section before returning to the soulful feel. The final movement had a dramatic opening for the piano and was soon joined by the cello. It was passionate, as reflected in the movement’s title. Once again, it also had a mix of ideas and styles that were a bit of a jumble. It had a strong ending, though slightly unsettling.

Copland’s sonata began with calm, open space chords from the piano paired with calm, slightly dissonant lines from the clarinet, with both then branching out in tempo and energy. It was very pleasant to listen to, even with the dissonances. The second movement also opened with solo piano that was then joined by the clarinet. There were simple, slow, calm lines for both, then an oddly disjointed section that was still interesting before leading into a slightly eerie ending. After a jaunty, perky, and fun start, the third movement settled into a slightly smoother section, still with a fun feeling. Following a lot of rapid-fire playing from both instruments, the ending was rather subdued.

The sextet has an interesting history. It was conceived as a short symphony in 1933. The technical and rhythmic intricacies made it, according to the conductor of the Boston Symphony, unplayable. The symphony did get a performance in 1934 by the Orquestra Sinfónica de México under maestro Carlos Chávez, but the piece pretty much languished in obscurity. Copland himself pared it down to the sextet version I heard on Saturday. The first movement was very energetic, very modern, and somewhat dissonant, with shifting time signatures adding to the unsettled feeling. It was angular, and even the calmer sections had an underlying frantic feeling. The movements all ran together, with the second being slower, smooth and quiet, but with tension. At times it was even mildly harsh, yet there were also phrases of real beauty. The finale was rhythmic, driving, and slightly biting. While the piece was very interesting as a whole, I really didn’t come away liking it all that much. Am I glad I heard it? Sure. And I certainly liked learning the history behind it.

All of the players were quite good and seemed to work well with each other, which is definitely a big help. All in all, a very interesting afternoon, even though I probably wouldn’t seek out additional performances of any of the four works. Maybe the clarinet and piano sonata. Ah, ha! I just did some sleuthing about the Copland sonata after wondering about the ‘arr. 1980’ reference above. This is also a reworking of other music, in this case his sonata for violin and piano. But it actually is Copland’s own transcription. Always more things to learn!

ConcertMeister

Monteverdi Anniversary Concert (11/29/17)

Molly Quinn, soprano; Timothy Parsons, countertenor; Johanna Novom, violin; Charles Weaver, lute and vocals; Adam Cockerham, theorbo

Chiome d’oro; Ardo e scoprir – Claudio Monteverdi (1567–1643)
Prologue to Orfeo; Et è pur dunque vero; Si dolce è il tormento – Monteverdi
Bel pastor; Damigella tutta bella – Monteverdi
Tempro la cetra; Lamento della ninfa – Monteverdi
Fuge anima mea mundum; Pur ti miro – Monteverdi

This concert was at a new venue for me, Istituto Italiano di Cultura New York, and was suggested to me by my supervisor at work (thanks, Lena!). Since I know a lot of you are curious, a theorbo is an early-music stringed instrument—think of a lute on steroids. It has (at least the one I saw at this concert) a double set of strings, one of them on a neck about four feet long. Do an image search and you’ll see that they vary quite a bit.

Chiome d’oro had a dance-like opening from the violin, lute, and theorbo; they were then joined by both vocalists. It was lively throughout. After some tuning (early-music instruments are notorious for needing frequent retuning), Ardo e scoprir, for lute, theorbo, soprano and tenor (maybe baritone? Mr. Parsons displayed an extremely large range throughout the performances), was much more dramatic.

Prologue to Orfeo, for three instruments only, was gentle and slow but not quite sad. It moved easily into Et è pur dunque vero, which added the soprano and added more drama, as well. It was much livelier for part of the time and Ms. Quinn showed a nice mix and control of a fast vibrato alternating with a basically straight tone (very minimal vibrato). After tuning again, Si dolce è il tormento had an instrumental beginning, joined by Mr. Parsons in his baritenor range in a strophic song that alternated text and instrumental interludes. There were interesting techniques on display by all, all the more so since they were carefully kept in the background.

Bel pastor, a soprano/tenor duet accompanied by lute and theorbo, had both a hint of jollity plus a touch of drama at times. Damigella tutta bella was a madrigal for all five performers which was very brisk and included the lutenist contributing to the vocals.

Tempro la cetra began with all three instruments, joined by Mr. Parsons in his baritenor range again, with more overt vocal techniques on display. Lamento della ninfa seemed to have stereo vocals, with Mr. Parsons and Mr. Weaver bending pitches into a sort of forced dissonance. Ms. Quinn joined in, at which point it truly sounded like a lament.

Fuge anima mea mundum was a motet for soprano, countertenor, and violin, and was brisk and fun, with contrasting slower sections—there was a bouncing back and forth of tempos—and also nice imitative sections that were quite humorous. Pur ti miro, for soprano, countertenor, lute, and theorbo, had gentle strings as an intro followed by the vocal duet, accompanied by the strings, that was also mostly gentle but then picked up tempo after a brief instrumental section.

Early music is not everybody’s cup of tea but I enjoy it quite a bit. It helps that I have performed some of it and have a slightly deeper understanding of the conventions involved—both instrumental and vocal. These five performers gave a most winning performance of a nice range of Monteverdi’s music. Oh, and the anniversary part? The 450th anniversary of Monteverdi’s birth.

The Orchestra Now (11/19/17)

Symphony Space, Gerard Schwarz, Conductor

Jubilee Variations (1944) New York Premiere – Eugene Goossens
(1893–1962)
Symphony No. 4 in E-flat major, Romantic – (1874, rev. 1878/1880) – Bewegt, nicht zu schnell; Andante quasi Allegretto; Scherzo: Bewegt—Trio: Nicht zu schnell, Keinesfalls schleppend; Finale: Bewegt, doch nicht zu schnell – Anton Bruckner (1824–1896)

Well, that’s a mouthful! And I didn’t even list the movements of the Goossens, since there were ten Variations preceded by a Theme and end bracketed by a Finale. Goossens wrote the Theme and Finale but commissioned the ten Variations. I can’t quite find the info on how the variations came to be organized, but here they were by (in order) Paul Creston, Aaron Copland, Deems Taylor, Howard Hanson, William Schuman, Walter Piston, Roy Harris, Anis Fuleihan, Bernard Rogers, and Ernest Bloch. Many names I knew and some that were brand new.

OK, stream of consciousness here. The Goossens Theme was slightly modern/dissonant but bold. Variation (“V”) 1. Richer, lush, but still modern in feel; V. 2. More brash, with ‘open’ Copland writing style—very American; V. 3. Gentle. Harp and strings with added instruments (jeez, it’s hard writing in the dark!), calm and rich, and lengthier than some; V. 4. Muted brass, closer to Copland style, but still distinct—could be part of a film score; V. 5. Muted strings and very calm;
V. 6. Brisk, in your face, rhythmic and jaunty; V. 7. Sweet, lush string writing with that Americana sound again; V. 8. Film score sound from the get-go, lush and symphonic; V. 9, Slightly mystical with an oriental cast to the sound but an American feel; V. 10. Broad, full sound, more abstract feel, modern but accessible. The Finale was tympani and running strings, with the winds brought in and then the brass and percussion, with a more spiky feel—it synthesized many styles, essentially into kitchen sink time, but it worked!

The Bruckner opened with quiet strings followed by a rather lengthy horn solo—a spare opening in general though the full orchestra expounded on the opening with a tuneful and pleasant mix of themes, volume and tempos that were enjoyable, finishing with a flourish. The second movement also had a quiet opening, sort of like walking along on a journey, slightly somber yet purposeful. The third movement had a chorus of horns and other brass, fanfare-esque, then perking along quite nicely, at times sweeping and romantic, full of joy, with many contrasting sections, a few false endings, and finally a real one. The final movement had a fairly mysterious opening/intro followed by a very dramatic section with, once again, contrasting sections that, unfortunately, began to feel arbitrary. In fact, the interesting and pretty sounds that followed didn’t quite mesh together for me, so I didn’t enjoy the piece as a whole as much as I enjoyed the individual parts. Not a huge problem, and I’d be interested in hearing the entire work again sometime, to see whether or not my initial reactions change.

ConcertMeister

Joshua Blue, tenor; Chris Reynolds, piano (11/18/17)

Yes, I’m woefully behind. Right to it then.

Three Poems of Fiona MacLeod, Op. 11 (1918) – The Lament of Ian the
Proud; Thy Dark Eyes to Mine; The Rose of the Night –
Charles T. Griffes (1884–1920)
Sechs Hölderlin-Fragmente, Op. 61 (1958) – Menschenbeifall; Die Heimat; Sokrates und Alcibiades; Die Jugend; Hälfte des Lebens; Die Linien des Lebens – Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)
Three Early Songs (1947) – Night; Let It Be Forgotten; Wind Elegy –
George Crumb (b. 1929)
Poema en forma de canciones, Op. 19 (1923) – Dedicatoria; Nunca olvida; Cantares; Los dos miedos; Las locas por amor – Joaquín Turina (1882–1949)
Traditional Spirituals (arr. Moses Hogan) – Deep River; My Good Lord’s Done Been Here; Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child; Walk Together Children

This was another of the Carnegie Neighborhood Concerts series, a great, free cultural scene here in NYC. OK, first thing right off the bat. All 20th century—not sure that’s the best programming for a debut New York recital. The concert also included American composers. But just too many. The first Griffes piece was moody, with a wispy accompaniment. It was not my favorite of the group. The second had a setting that I didn’t really care for, as it made the lyrics difficult to decipher and understand. Often printed lyrics are included in this vocal series—they would have been helpful here. The third piece was relatively static (there’s that setting thing again). Even though there were fuller, louder sections, they didn’t signify much to me.

The Britten pieces, sung from a score, were performed in German (but no translations, alas). The first benefited from a nice setting. The second was gentler and pretty, then quite dramatic, leading to a calm ending. The third had a calmer accompaniment that worked a lot better for the balance between voice and piano, which is always a little difficult in this performance space. The fourth was faster and brighter while the fifth was calmer, and better for balance again, even with building up of tempo and volume. The sixth seemed to be the reason for the cycle. I liked it and the third song the best of this grouping.

The first Crumb song had an odd setting again and seemed a little bit nebulous to me. The second was better in the setting department but was somewhat on the artsy side, instead of having a more solid feeling. The third was a little more dramatic but really not all that effective.

After beginning with a solo piano section, the first Turina piece was pretty much feathery and quasi impressionistic, with the second being more of the same. The third had long vocal melismas (basically just vowel sounds) to start, and worked into a fairly dramatic setting once the lyrics actually began, providing a little more Spanish flavor, and a bang-up ending. The fourth piece was effectively presented. The fifth was bright and had a lot more character. And Mr. Blue seemed to be playing a character—the cad. I found myself wondering whether this was one of his ‘go-to’ signature pieces.

The first of the spirituals seemed to lie low in his vocal register but was relatively straightforward, vocally, with the ending in more of his higher register. New to me, the second, My Good Lord’s Done Been Here, was up tempo, and the patter-style text made it a little difficult to both hear and understand. The third was very similar to the first, and the fourth, also new to me, was very similar to the second, possibly a problem of doing all four by the same arranger.

I’m certainly glad I went and heard the songs, even if the programming was a little offbeat. Mr. Blue is a young performer who will perhaps grow into his voice and choice of repertoire. It seems to be a given to bring back artists for an encore, and Mr. Blue sang Serenade from Sigmund Romberg’s The Student Prince fairly effectively. I’m not totally convinced that an encore was warranted but, hey, it was his first NYC recital and there were a lot of supportive members in the audience, so I’m glad he went for it.

ConcertMeister

Jason Daniely (11/12/17)

Joseph Thalken, Music Director and Piano

This was part of the Carnegie Hall Neighborhood Concerts series, a terrific venture by Carnegie Hall to bring free concerts to New Yorkers in all five boroughs. Saturday's concert took place at LaGuardia Performing Arts Center, at LaGuardia Community College in Queens.

The program was titled Romantic Notions, and that was a loose theme for the afternoon that was part concert, part lounge/cabaret act—not that there’s anything wrong with that!

Due to the lack of a printed program (something that I commented on in the de rigeur survey forms distributed at CHNC events), I had to result to note taking in the dark. After the bossa nova–styled With a Song in My Heart, Mr. Daniely launched into a cute patter bit about the pronunciation of his name, which I will not divulge here in case you hear his act on its own later. (If you really want to know, most of you know how to contact me.)

In his quest to find love, Mr. Daniely’s next step was via the yellow brick road with If I Only Had a Brain. This was followed by (and this is just a guess here) I Wish It So. Someone to Watch over Me was a tribute to George Gershwin, while I Have Dreamed was a nod to Rodgers and Hammerstein. Mr. Daniely had a few vocal mannerisms that came to the fore from time to time, which is not unusual, and they were not overused. They were noticeable yet effective.

Drawing on his own personal Broadway performance experience, he next sang You Walk with Me, from The Full Monty—a song he shied away from for a while because it has a funeral connotation in the flow of the show. But after he learned that it is often performed at LGBTQ weddings/celebrations, he has decided to program it a lot more often in his concerts. (For the record, Mr. Daniely is married to Marin Mazzie—they recently celebrated their twentieth anniversary.)

In What Does It Take to Be a Man? Mr. Daniely managed to flub the lyrics. Afterward, he said that the three things you never do in that situation is acknowledge it, apologize for it, or explain it. He did all three and it was charming. (Hmm, was it a setup?) Rodgers and Hammerstein got another nod with Younger than Springtime/You’ve Got to Be Taught, from South Pacific.

In Time (or All We Had Was Time) was next, from a new musical penned by Mr. Thalken, who added superb support and collaboration throughout the entire afternoon. You, You, You, from The Visit, followed, which Mr. Daniely did not sing in the show but which he did demo from the very beginning of the long, arduous process of creating a musical—from readings to workshops, workshops to reworking, reworking to out of town/regional productions, to reworking, to out of town tryouts, to previews, to—ta-dah! opening night on Broadway! Mr. Daniely told us that this took many, many, many years. But it made it.

Sands of Time, from Kismet, was next and then And This Is My Beloved (which Ms. Mazzie walked down the aisle to lo, those twenty years ago). In true lounge act style, the program finished with a Rat Pack staple For Once in My Life, followed by a quick (obviously planned) encore of Ain’t That a Kick in the Head, also in Rat Pack mode.

Mr. Daniely gave a well-polished performance, one that he’s very comfortable with, with a hint of Danny Kaye humor and delivery, to my ear and eye. I enjoyed it a lot. And so did the rest of the audience—ranging from kids in families to old codgers like me. I was especially heartened to see parents bringing their children and exposing them to these great programs sponsored by Carnegie Hall. Yeah, I know, it sounds rah!-rah! but I really do believe and mean it. More live performances is a big plus, as far as I’m concerned. OK, off of my soap box now.

ConcertMeister

Bernstein Findings: Copland’s Keys (11/4/17)

Michael Boriskin, pianist

“For Aaron Copland” from Seven Anniversaries (1943) – Leonard Bernstein (1918–1990)
Piano Variations (1930) – Aaron Copland (1900–1990)
i. Theme: sharply, deliberamente
ii. Variation I: molto espressivo
iii. Variation II: marcato
iv. Variation III: simply, naively
v. Variation IV: molto legato
vi. Variation V
vii. Variation VI: marcato clangorous
viii. Variation VII: boldly
ix. Variation VIII: blurred but note accents
x. Variation IX: warmly, cantabile
xi. Variation X: marcato e legato
xii. Variation XI: lento, molto espressivo e liberamente
xiii. Variation XII; scherzando
xiv. Variation XIII: threatening
xv. Variation XIV: con brio
xvi. Variation XV: heavy staccato
xvii. Variation XVI: non legato
xviii. Variation XVII: very sharply
xix. Variation XVIII: scherzando
xx. Variation XIX: meno mosso, subito allegro
xxi. Variation XX: not too fast, well articulated, allegro vivo, brillante, accelerando.
El Salón México (1936); Arranged by Leonard Bernstein for solo piano (1939) – Copland

A bit of background. Mr. Boriskin is Artistic and Executive Director of Copland House, so he knows a thing or two about Aaron Copland. And Evan Leslie, of the Library for the Performing Arts, had done a little bit of research about the relationship between Leonard Bernstein and Copland. Bernstein first met Copland at a dance recital in NYC that took place on Copland’s birthday in 1937. Copland invited Bernstein’s party of four to join him at his loft for a get together he was having. While there, Bernstein sat at the piano (I’m unsure whether he was asked or just did) and played Piano Variations. (He was nineteen!) A strong and close friendship was the result of that first meeting. On to the music.

Bernstein’s piece that began the concert I attended had a chime-like opening that was modern, yet easy enough to listen to and enjoy. It was brief and pleasant.

The layout of the Copland Variations makes it look more daunting than it really is. It’s definitely a modern work with some passages that seem almost brutal, but it really is a theme and variations that are through composed—no distinct breaks between movements. The descriptive names make sense, even though by the time you go, “Ah, yes, I see that,” it’s passed you right on by. In fact, the Variations only takes about eleven minutes to play. (Two movements, we learned in a bit of discussion after hearing the work, take only eleven seconds each!) I’m obviously not going to comment on every variation, but I really could hear how they were all linked together, even if they were jangly and disparate. Somehow, it worked. I guess that’s what Bernstein understood early on. There was lots of drama, lots of dissonance, and lots of darned good music.

Because the piece was so short, Mr. Boriskin and Mr. Leslie had a bit of a tête-à-tête about the piece after the performance, and I learned a great deal. Copland went through a whole raft of names before settling on the (perfect, as far as I’m concerned) Piano Variations. As mentioned above, a pair of variations—twins, if you will—are each 11 seconds (I’m guessing by metronome marking, not by stopwatch). One of the most interesting things to me about the discussion was that I knew (a little bit, at least) what to listen for on second hearing. Some of it still went by too quickly for in-depth listening, but my subconscious had a few a-ha! moments the second time around. It was a nice experiment that paid off quite well.

The final piece on the program also had a bit of a back story. El Salón México, named after a dance club in Mexico, was a very popular orchestral work by Copland. When his publishers suggested that a piano version might be a good thing to have out there as well, Copland said that he knew just the right person for the job—Bernstein! It’s a great arrangement of a fun piece, if a bit thin in places. But it certainly has the fire of the orchestral version in spades.

The ‘Bernstein Findings’ portion of the title of the afternoon’s work comes from an autobiography of Bernstein titled Findings that was used for some of the program notes and discussion topics. So much to learn and so much great programming to listen to.

ConcertMeister

Midday Masterpieces (11/1/17)

Sam Boutris, clarinet; Tomer Gewirtzman, piano

Mozart: Una Aura Amorosa from Cosi fan tutte, K588
Ravel: Piece en forme de Habanera
Chopin: Nocturne in C minor No. 21 (op. posth)
Verdi/Bassi: Concert Fantasia on Rigoletto
Brahms: Sonata in E-flat, Op 120

This concert at WQXR’s Greene Space had an interesting concept that didn’t quite work for me. As explained from the stage, Mr. Boutris wanted to explore the range of the clarinet’s expressiveness by using pieces composed for other instruments, i.e., the Mozart was a tenor aria, the Ravel was written for violin, the Chopin for piano, and the Verdi/Bassi for orchestra. They explored the clarinet’s range but I don’t think the payoff was worth it. That said, I really did enjoy the concert.

The aria was mostly slow and pleasant with a bit of filigree from time to time in the clarinet finger work. I liked the Habanera a lot. Along with the basic tune and rhythm, there were lots of trills and virtuosic phrases making full use of the clarinet’s range.

The Chopin, composed as a single movement, was essentially simple and calm. The themes sounded almost like Hebrew themes to me but that may have been because of the mournful quality of the clarinet’s sound here, hinting at subdued klezmer music.

One of the most interesting things about the Verdi/Bassi was its back story. Apparently when composers were going to first have their works heard in various cities, they would send out a sort of a sampler—in this case, some of the themes from Rigoletto that would expose concertgoers to the music ahead of time, a few weeks before the actual performance of the opera. This was one of those, written for orchestra and then transcribed for clarinet/piano. I confess that I know very few of the tunes themselves, though I did recognize the paraphrases of the Rigoletto quartet. Once again, I didn’t see this piece really expanding the expressiveness and range of the clarinet, but that may just be me.

There was a dramatic piano opening followed by a jaunty tune in the piano with the clarinet providing a rippling accompaniment. Next there was a Rigoletto theme with coloratura clarinet playing and a section of a tune leading to a clarinet cadenza. After the famed quartet tune, including flights of fancy fingering for both clarinet and piano, there was a lilting waltz to play the piece out.

The clarinet sonata was a rich mixture of calm and relatively gentle phrases, progressing in volume and tempo into more dramatic writing, followed by a song-like tune, with several returns to the opening theme. Quite a nice combination throughout of running notes over and over for both piano and clarinet, as well as slower and more melancholy sections, finishing with varied tempos that included both drama and speed. It was enjoyable but not as much of a wow factor as I was expecting. In fact, that’s a pretty good summation of the entire concert.

Both performers played quite well. I enjoyed myself. I wanted to enjoy it more. But I learned a lot and heard some good music and good playing along the way, so it’s still a win-win for me.

ConcertMeister

Jane Austen’s Music Library (10/28/17)

Francis Liu, violin; Patrick T. Jones, keyboard; Sarah Stone, Baroque cello; Lucy Dhegrae, mezzo soprano

Broadwood Junction was one of the guiding forces behind this concert, along with the Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts’ vast holdings. Big breath—Broadwood Junction was formed because the first three artists named above discovered an 1809 Broadwood square piano at an estate sale and decided that they had to have it. Here’s the tie-in to this concert: There is a passage in Emma, by Jane Austen, about the delivery of a square piano. “The instrument usually featured in Austen’s novels is the piano which had only relatively recently supplanted the harpsichord in English drawing rooms. Broadwood pianos were fashionable and it is a Broadwood which arrives so mysteriously at Mrs Bates’ house for Jane Fairfax to play ... a very elegant looking instrument ... a large sized square pianoforte.”
http://www.musicweb-international.com/austen.htm#ixzz4xQpCG2ao

Now the problem: Broadwood Junction’s square piano had some emergency problems and was replaced by a pianoforte. Confused yet? Nevertheless, all of the music performed on Saturday afternoon was collected in Jane Austen’s bound volumes of music that she either purchased or copied out by hand. That’s dedication. And if memory serves, LPA has eighteen of Austen’s bound volumes in their collection. She was by no means a slacker.

Robin Adair, Theme and Variations for Piano (later sung) –
George Kiallmark (1781–1835)
Trio for Keyboards, Violin, and Cello, B. 445 – III. Rondo – Ignaz Pleyel (1757–1831)
Cymon and Iphegenia: Cantata for tenor, violin obbligato, and harpsichord (1753) – Thomas Arne (1710–1778)
Country Dance – Anonymous
Augustin for harpsichord and flute, or violin – Joseph Wõlfl (1773–1812)
The Whim of the Day – James Hook (1746–1827)
The Beggar Girl; Nobody Coming to Marry Me – Anonymous
The Battle of Prague – I. Slow March; II. Largo; III. The Attack; IV. Grave;
V. Finale Andante – Frantisek Kotzwara (1730–1791)

If you’re like me and don’t recognize too many of those composers (except maybe Pleyel, Arne or the ever-popular Anonymous), don’t feel too bad. Bound volumes usually contained popular songs of the day—some maybe not even planned for mass public consumption. In addition, the violin and cello in this concert were essentially period instruments as well, i.e., they used gut strings (no, not catgut but yes, strings made from sheep or cow intestines, often wrapped with other materials). The sound is a little more harsh and, for want of a better word, unpolished than modern strings). Anyhoo, off we go!

The first piece was mostly delicate although there was one variation that was much more energetic. The vocals that were added were strophic and mostly simple, straightforward settings of the text. The Pleyel was rather jolly and I found myself noticing that because of the period instruments, I needed to focus more intently on listening to the music.

The Arne, sung here by a mezzo, was a nice juxtaposition of recitative, instrumental interludes, and quasi-arias/songs, presenting what was essentially a morality play. The last verse was the closest we got to a real aria. The next three pieces seem to have been played out of order, so it’s hard to really comment on them, though it seems to me that the Country Dance was a combination of complementary tunes joined together with pianistic show-off moves that seemed almost improvisatory.

The next three pieces were in that not really for public consumption mode—they were essentially parlor songs, to be sung in the home as opposed to being presented on the stage, a sort of equivalent to the novelty songs of yore (think Yes, We Have No Bananas, etc.). So, The Whim of the Day had a folk-song feel but also a bit silly. The Beggar Girl and Nobody Coming to Marry Me were of that same genre, except they were a little sadder and mock-sentimental.

The Battle of Prague seems to be in a category all its own. Apparently there were many Battle pieces in that era and they were very popular, if not even overdone. Miss Austen had at least three versions of Prague within her eighteen bound volumes of music. The movements themselves were not all that discernible, so there were often cues written into some of the scores, similar to the cues that would later be sent out with silent films, so that a ‘score’ could accompany the film. Some of Miss Austen’s cues were shown on screen as we heard the battle unfolding, and they were enlightening, entertaining, and amusing. As was par for the course in those days, there was the almost requisite God Save the King thrown into the mix.

A fun endeavor, if slightly marred by the lack of the square piano (which I have heard before in a previous Broadwood Junction performance at LPA). Throughout, all of the players were just great and Ms. Dhegrae was very effective in providing words to what might actually have been heard in Miss Austen’s drawing room. She even played the drum quite well in The Battle of Prague!

ConcertMeister

COTS @ 2nd Street (10/22/17)

Sheng-Ching Hsu, violin; Brian Bak, violin; Maren Rothfritz, viola; Benjamin Larsen, cello, Laura Del Sol Jiménez, flute; Eric Huckins,
French horn; Ava Nazar, piano

Rising – Joan Tower (b. 1938)
The Silent Flame – I. Frosty; II. With energy; III. Rigorous; IV. Sorrowful –
Ke-Chia Chen (b. 1979)
String Quartet in E flat Major, Opus 74 ‘Harp’ – Poco adagio – Allegro; Adagio ma non troppo; Presto; Allegretto con Variazioni – Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)

This Concerts on the Slope at Second Street, in Manhattan, was a new venue for me: the Orthodox Cathedral of the Holy Virgin Protection. The concert took place in a second floor meeting hall/room that had very lively acoustics. Rising, for flute and string quartet, opened with lots of rising scales (duh!) and phrases that were slightly moody and tense. It was harsh at times but balanced with calmer phrases. It rambled a bit too much for me, with basically a lot of sound and fury. But not a lot of payoff.

The second work, for horn and piano, opened with solo piano that was then softly joined by the horn (played with a mute—a little megaphone-style cone). It was mostly calm though it did have a slight build in volume and intensity. The second movement was very rapid and modern sounding, with interesting sounds, from a technique standpoint. The third had octaves in the piano that were then joined by the horn, though the two seemed to be in their own individual worlds before coming together once in a while. It meandered a bit and also made me wonder whether it was originally written as a stand-alone piece that had perhaps been written first, with the other movements eventually added afterward. Pure speculation on my part. The final movement also had a solo piano opening, with the horn joining later as a somewhat mournful addition. After an extensive horn solo, the piece concluded with a duet, but with each instrument again in their own separate worlds. During the applause, the composer was acknowledged, since she was in attendance.

The first movement of the Beethoven string quartet was sweet and quiet, with flashes of drama—the allegro was also pretty and sweet, with its own drama, including the pizzicato section that gives the work its ‘harp’ moniker. At times, it was also very full and rich. The second movement had a song-like melody in the first violin, then a more blended sound with all four players, with dark but very interesting passages, followed by a solid and, in a sense, deep passage. It was fairly lengthy but only because there was so much to say. The third movement was also dark and dramatic, full of energy in a sort of controlled fury that threatened to escape from time to time. Even in the quieter sections there was still that energy. In the final movement, everybody got a chance to shine by bouncing phrases back and forth. Each section had a neat little beginning, development, and ending before culminating in a rambunctious rush to the final ending.

Overall, this was ambitious programming all under the impresario-like eye of
Mr. Larsen, who also is the guiding force behind Concerts on the Slope, in Brooklyn (Park Slope). It’s great that he has such dedication to presenting this type of programming. On a side note, one of the priests from the cathedral quizzed me at intermission about why I was taking notes. That led to him Googling nyconcertmeister, where I was the top hit. It also led to the fledgling ConcertMeister Facebook page—feel free to check it (and the goofy photo I posted) out. Strange new, brave new world.

ConcertMeister

Rhapsody in Blue (10/21/17)

Phillip Dyson, piano
Well, almost. We eventually heard a few snippets of Rhapsody in Blue, after:

Prelude in C sharp minor, op. 3 no. 2 (1892) – Rachmaninov
Impromptu no. 3 in G flat, D.899 (1827) – Schubert
Waltz in A flat minor, op. 69 ‘L’Adieu’; Fantaisie-Impromptu, op. 66 – Chopin
Valses Nobles (movts) – (1898–1917) – Ravel
Gymnopedie no. 1 – Satie
Bethena; The Entertainer; Swipesy Cake Walk – Scott Joplin (hmm, I would have thought ‘Joplin’ would suffice)
Cake Walk – Debussy
Alligator Crawl – Fats Waller
—Interval—
Consolation No. 3 in D flat major – Liszt
Rustle of Spring. Op. 32 no. 3 – Sinding
‘Moonlight’ Sonata, op. 27, no. 2 – Adagio, Allegretto, Presto (1801) – Beethoven
Don’t Get Around Much Anymore – Duke Ellington/Art Tatum
Oh, Lady Be Good; I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise; Prelude No. 2; I Got Rhythm – George Gershwin

First off, all titles, composers and movement descriptions are taken from the printed program—I wasn’t about to try to clean that up. And all dates were announced from the stage and scribbled in my notes. Housekeeping done!

Rachmaninov’s prelude had a slightly dark quality, with rich harmonies and a rhythmic section leading back to a more powerful statement of the opening themes. Schubert’s impromptu was lyrical and gentle, with a rippling movement throughout, tuneful and pretty. Chopin’s ‘L’Adieu’ was wistful without being sad, and had a playful section after the opening, which seemed to lead into a segue to the next Chopin piece, rippling like the Schubert but a little more ambitious—indeed, this was the ‘I’m Always Chasing Rainbow’ opus, finishing with flying fingers.

In the second grouping, Ravel’s work started out gentle, if not quite wispy, reminding one of Impressionist paintings. It reminded me of being a waltz in name only, similar to the first Chopin offering, but then had a charming music-box feel, plus a fuller section that eventually segued into Satie’s Gymnopedie. (You all know it and probably could have hummed along.) A note here on Mr. Dyson’s many segues. At times, it seemed that we were listening to very well-plotted-out arrangements of some of these works, rather than the works themselves. Just an observation, not a complaint.

Joplin’s Bethena had a gentle rag opening, then a more energetic section followed by a rag/waltz feel in a very well-structured rag composition—and that’s not an oxymoron. Often, ragtime has a loose, jazzy, improvisational feel but it can be very structured. The Entertainer was nicely introduced, as in, not too fast, with a few fillips, pun intended, added. Even though the music flowed unbroken through this segment, it’s worth noting that from time to time Mr. Dyson spoke from the stage, in a very engaging manner. I found myself thinking that he was a cross between Patrick Stewart (with a twinkle in his eye) and Judi Dench (with a twinkle in her eye). But back to the music. Swipesy Cake Walk was a bluesy rag that led seamlessly into Debussy’s Golliwog’s Cake Walk which included a stride piano feel leading into a more jazz-like rag, Fats Waller’s Alligator Rag. A note here, Mr. Dyson often appears at the major Scott Joplin Ragtime Festival in Sedalia, MO in early June. Hmmm, maybe a road trip is in order?

Some of the pieces on the second half of the program were familiar to me—in fact, I heard Mr. Dyson play them back in 2014. But hey, they’re classical classics for a reason. Once again, Lizst’s Consolation was wistful and sad for me—a piece that was played at Michael’s memorial service in 2008, so it will always have a special place in my heart. Sinding’s Rustle of Spring is, as announced from the stage, one of those pseudo-warhorses that are making a bit of a comeback. To me, it has an almost-too-cloying sentimental sweetness. To each his own.

Moonlight Sonata’s first movement is iconic in its placid presentation of gentleness. The other two movements, however, are more substantial, and the work taken as a whole is very effective.

Similar to the multiple segues toward the end of the first half, the Gershwin/
Ellington/Gershwin/Tatum/Gershwin mash-up that ended the program was quite interesting. All of the above-mentioned pieces were linked together (plus a little bit of American in Paris thrown in for good measure) providing a fun ending to a fun concert. This is an artist I’ll keep an ear and eye out for in the future.

ConcertMeister

Open House New York (10/14–15/17)

The Agenda

10/14/17 – Kingsland Wildflowers Green Roof; NY Sun Works' Greenhouse Project at PS84; The City Reliquary Museum*; Church of the Annunciation; Five Boroughs Brewing Co.; Brooklyn Army Terminal**; Stonewall National Monument

10/15/17 – Mmuseumm 1 and Mmuseumm 2; Espasso Gallery (cancelled by OHNY on 10/14/17); Skyscraper Museum; AT&T Building; Leslie-Lohman Museum; The Renee and Chaim Gross Foundation; Center for Architecture

*I'd been there before but needed to kill time before the Church of the Annunciation
** Recommended by a guy I met at Five Boroughs, while sipping beer

Overall, a great weekend. The Wildflowers Green Roof was really impressive, and the onsite representative was very knowledgeable. A huge plus was the OHNY volunteer (and there are hundreds, and thank you!) who was at the bus stop that others and I were getting off at. She cheerfully directed us along the way to the venue. Wonderful views and layouts. At the next stop, the Greenhouse was nice, but finding out how to get into the building was a torture. There was absolutely no OHNY signage, and of the eight to ten doors at PS84, only one was usable—and it was not marked. Eventually (because several of us complained), a hand-written sign was added to the one functional door. As footnoted (*) above, the Reliquary Museum was a repeat but they do have rotating exhibits, and the one I saw was interesting, including found items from an NYC school cloakroom. Some fun stuff there. Plus, I got a chance to see their garden area—small but pleasant.

The Church of the Annunciation was nice. The proffered tours were nonexistent. There's a difference between "ask questions if you want to know more" and an organized tour, explaining various points of interest about the space. Five Boroughs Brewing Co. was a real treat. The tour itself was handled by one of the co-owners; he did a great job of basic explanation and fielding questions from the floor. Interesting takeaways, for me, is that they source their hops from the Pacific Northwest and their grain from Germany—with the exception of a local co-branded beer using all New York state ingredients. And the (purchased) beer was great.

Per footnote (**) above, the Brooklyn Army Terminal tour was phenomenal. The guide was incredibly knowledgeable, he knew how to work his audience, and he was just plain great. The fact that this was not part of my original plan made it even better. For those in the know, I can be incredibly structured (okay, anal) and for me to go outside of the structure (and like it a lot) is a biggie.

Unfortunately, the Stonewall National Monument was a bit of a letdown. I've been to the park before and, yes, there were Rangers there, but short of a pamphlet or two, there was no 'there' there. Since I was in da 'hood, I dropped in to the Stonewall bar but didn't even feel compelled to have a drink. Not a 'fail' but not a 'must see/do' either.

Sunday started with Mmuseumm 1 and 2 which were really rather lame. Tiny, and I only spent max. fifteen minutes there. That, coupled with the fact that my second stop was cancelled, I had to improvise and decided to visit the New York Marble Cemetery (which sounds more interesting than it really is) and the Museum at Eldridge Street. The cemetery is an open plot of land with tablets in a brick wall signifying where the sunken, hidden, marble mausoleums are of the folks who are entombed below the sod. Interesting concept; not a lot to see/experience, in an OHNY way. I've been to the Eldridge Street Museum before (essentially a synagogue-cum-museum) but there's a lot of history there, and the tours/
explanations are well worth a visit. It's absolutely gorgeous inside and out. Go, if you get the chance.

The Skyscraper Museum is a bit of an odd duck (and I should know!). It's loosely based on a late 1990s Heritage Trail (if I'm remembering correctly) somewhat along the lines of Boston's Freedom Trail, but chronicling NYC skyscrapers. Unfortunately, 2001 brought that crashing down—literally. The museum itself, though, is a nice grouping of information and history about the skyscraper in general, and the working/reworking of steel that makes skyscrapers even feasible. Of interest, but just (unless you're really keen on structure/architecture).

My next stop, the ATT&T Long Distance Building Lobby, was a real treat. From the brochure: "Hildreth Meière was commissioned to design a ceiling mural depicting the 'Continents Linked by the Telephone and Wireless' in her Art Deco style." As intriguing as that sounds, it was amplified immensely by the artist's granddaughter explaining how different aspects of the lobby came to be, including what had to be excluded. The mosaics are wonderful, even though they include 'silhouette mosaics', portions of the overall design that are only outlined because even ATT&T didn't have the funds for full mosaics during the Depression. So much to learn at OHNY! The internet is not whirling around in the air/ether. Its cables are under the oceans, just as telephone cables are under the oceans—who knew? Well, I do, now. And so do you. The Leslie-Lohman Museum was next on my list. I'd never been to this quintessential gay (LGBT? LGBTQ?) art space. I'm glad that I have, now.

Two different LaGuardia Place spaces rounded out my day. The Renee & Chaim Gross Foundation building is a tribute to both as artists. The studio space and third-floor living space are chock-a-block with sculptures and paintings, as are the stairwells in between. The Center for Architecture had a display about scaffolding as art/architecture. It was interesting if a bit esoteric. Still, I'm glad I went.

In fact, I'm very glad I explored as much of OHNY as I did. I've been a volunteer once in the past. Maybe it's time to pay it forward again to them next year.

OHNYMeister

Midday Masterpieces (10/3/17)

Yun Wei, piano

Italian Concerto, BWV971 – J.S. Bach
Carnaval, Op. 9 – Robert Schumann

First off, a note about the piano at the Greene Space, WQXR’s street-level broadcast-studio-cum-event-space, where the Midday Masterpieces concerts take place. Fazioli? I know Steinway, Bechstein, Kawai, Baldwin, et al. But Fazioli? It turns out that they are high end, hand-built pianos, and WQXR has one. Who knew? Now, we all do.

Ms. Wei’s playing of the first movement of the Bach was clean and a little on the dry side (very little use of pedal for sustaining the sound), which is fine by me. The second movement was slower, with a little more pedal added, and there was an insistent motif in the left hand—one-two—at the ends of (and sometimes in the middle of) phrases. After a surprising major chord (the bulk of the work was somewhat somber), there was a brief coda, but always with that left hand one-two touch. The final movement was brisk and bright, lots of fun with a nice shifting of, and contrast of, dynamics.

As announced from the stage, Carnaval is a collection of 20 small vignettes designed to pay tribute to Schumann’s family and friends. This did not translate too well for me. I don’t know what the movements were named, and I don’t know who was being framed (for good or for ill), so I’ll just offer impressions of the sounds I heard. Bold prelude—Romantic in style, with not even a hint of schmaltz. Slightly mysterious followed by a music box feel with a darker, contrasting left hand motif. Wistful, yet pleasant—sheer number of notes was very impressive and then a rather abrupt ending. Rippling and song-like; really powerful; jolly, brisk episode but with hints of sadness. A presto with power led to a false finale. Slower, almost maudlin but really more tender. Chords and phrases firmly rooted in the Romantic tradition (full, rich, etc.). An even faster presto that led into a bold, straightforward closing passage.

I know that the last paragraph reads a little bit strangely, but it pretty much describes the quicksilver overall feeling of the work. I wasn’t quite sure of what I was hearing or how it was all supposed to fit together but it did. And made sense. And made music. I just might search out a recording or even another live performance, to see how it stacks up against my memory of this first hearing.

ConcertMeister

The Orchestra Now (10/1/17)

James Bagwell, conductor; Nathaniel Sullivan, baritone

Valse triste, from Kuolema, Op. 44, No. 1 – (1903, rev. 1904) – Jean Sibelius (1865–1957)
Frankenstein!! A pan-demonium for chansonnier and orchestra after children’s rhymes by HC Artmann – (1976–1977) – Heinz Karl Gruber (b. 1943) – Nathaniel Sullivan, chansonnier
Symphony No. 104, London (1795) Adagio – Allegro; Andante;
Menuet: Allegro; Finale: Spiritoso – Franz Joseph Haydn (1732–1809)

The Sibelius was written as music to accompany a play. After the six performances of the play, the music came into its own as a concert piece. It opened with soft pizzicato (plucked strings) as a very slow waltz, with a second theme that had a stop-time-rhythm. A fuller, sweeter section followed, ending with a slightly nagging, though pretty, feel.

Frankenstein!! was a whimsical, fun-filled piece. Literally. It included blowing up and popping brown paper lunch bags as well as a slide whistle played by the speaker/singer. The piece also used those plastic thingies you swing around your head (the ones I referenced in a recent string quartet post) to make controlled woo-woo-woo pitches. One of the movements (there were eight—and no, I’m not naming all eight) incorporated the use of a toy piano. One of the most ‘normal’ movements featured the vocalist/speaker playing a kazoo. There was one movement with distinct Latin rhythms. Throughout, the silliness factor was a big plus. At one point, the chamber orchestra also doubled as a chorus. I can’t imagine what type of response this got in the late 1970s because it seemed pretty bizarre (though fun) by 2017 standards. Both the conductor and the vocal soloist entered into the fun-house atmosphere wholeheartedly.

In a truly classical vein, the Haydn had a solemn, almost brooding intro/opening—the allegro that followed perked things up with its bright fun and many musical ideas strung together. The second movement was gentle but with a pleasant rhythmic touch. There was nice interplay between the strings and the woodwinds, with interesting dynamics back and forth, including the occasional dead silence—that didn’t last too long. The third movement was not quite your standard one-two-three minuet; at times there was a one-two-three thrown in for good measure. There were also a few more dead stops added in where they weren’t quite expected, which added to the enjoyment. The Finale had a drone (in the bassoon?) followed by what sounded like a Scottish folk tune. By the time the full orchestra was in, they were all in the spirit of the spirit of things. Driving rhythms were used throughout, generating lots of energy, though with a few contrasting sections as a breather. It was a bright and cheerful finish to a very interesting concert. TŌN has a free concert coming up in November; I plan on being there.

ConcertMeister

Dockapella (10/1/17)

Robert F. Wagner, Jr. Park (just west of Battery Park in Manhattan)

I note the venue because this is the same place the outdoor opera concert was recently held. This one was much better organized. There was still no shell for the bouncing of sound, but the microphone situation was a lot better (if still over-amped). In fairness, this was a three-hour event and I only stayed for the first as I was going to an orchestral concert later in the afternoon (both free in NYC, mind you).

So. Dockapella. It’s like Rockapella in that it was groups singing a cappella (more later) against a backdrop of New York harbor, including Lady Liberty. All of these were college groups. I heard N’Harmonics (New York University), Beelzebubs (Tufts University), and Mixed Company (Yale University).

No printed program, so I was flying by the seat of my pants. N’Harmonics, sixteen members strong, was a mixed group in terms of females/males that started out with (pure guessing here) Do-Oheya, Be-Oheya. That may mean something to some of you out there. For the most part, they had a front person backed up by a variety of close harmony singing from the gang. The sound was a little raw and harsh for me. The third (of five) selection(s) was a bit more formal sounding, as in, structured, clean harmonies. I enjoyed the group sound.

Beelzebubs was a twelve-voice all-male ensemble. They began with Sweet Caroline, featuring tighter harmonies and their slightly goofy group persona. At one point, my scribbled notes said ‘white rap?’ for their second selection. They brought a female parks intern on stage for Do I Love You? which they hammed up quite a bit. Musically, I liked them better than the first group.

Mixed Company continued that trend. The fourteen singers here seemed to pay closer attention to blending their sound. While all three groups were loud and somewhat raucous, Mixed Company tamped that down a bit. Their first number was predictably up tempo and very pleasant (see ‘blend’ above). Their third selection (guessing here), I Keep on Falling in Love with You, verged on doo-wop blues/rock. Who knew?

While this was billed as a cappella, and there were some instances of human beat-boxing (is that the right term?) going on, it seemed to me that there was also electronic rhythm back-up for most of the selections, which took a bit of the spontaneity away from the performances for me.

Kudos to Battery Park City Parks for this one. There were three more groups on the bill that I didn’t hear; I wended my way up to Cooper Union. To be continued …

ConcertMeister

Lions Concert for Peace and Understanding (9/17/17)

Elizabeth de Trejo, soprano; Jennifer Gliere, mezzo; Joan Peitscher, mezzo; David Robinson, baritone; Israel Lozano, tenor; Pablo Zinger, piano; Tarumi Violinists
 
This was one of those feel-good events that looked really great on paper. An outdoor concert sponsored by the New York Financial District Lions Club, with the Statue of Liberty as the backdrop, and a very nicely printed program that listed Welcome Remarks, Interfaith Invocation, God Bless America, Introduction of VIP, Tarumi Violinists, Musical Program, Intermission, etc. What we got was a late start, microphone problems, the violinists as the first entertainment segment, and then opera arias and duets. After the third or fourth operatic performance, the VIP made a few announcements, the assembled musicians got around to God Bless America (it did say tutti, so a few of us joined in halfheartedly), and then more opera selections followed.

The violinists were a student group with ages ranging from nine or ten to nineteen. No attempt was made to let us know what they were playing. The playing was good, and it’s always nice to see arts education in effect.

Opera outdoors with no type of a sound shell is not easy to pull off. And this was no exception. For the most part, the women fared better than the men. It was a little hard to follow, since the ten selections of Musical Program (Part I) were not sung in order. In fact, four pieces from Musical Program (Part II) were interspersed with the Part I selections. And for good measure, one of the four from the Finale was also included in Part I.

Selections included Habanera (Carmen), Una voce poco fa (Il barbiere di Siviglia), an aria and a duet from La bohème, O mio babbino caro (Gianni Schicchi) and, from the non-operatic world, Memory (Cats), and Granada.
 
When they announced that they would take a short break to give the pianist and vocalists a little breather, I took a longer break. As in, I left. Getting back to that printed program, there were rather lengthy bios for the vocalists. But only for two of them. Good intention, bad execution all the way around.

ConcertMeister

Washington Heights Chamber Orchestra (9/16/17)

Ilana Davidson, Soprano
Chris Whittaker, Music Director
 
Le Tombeau de Couperin – Maurice Ravel (1875–1937)
Knoxville: Summer of 1915 – Samuel Barber (1910–1981)
Symphony No. 38 in D Major, K. 504, “Prague” – I. Adagio-Allegro;
II. Andante; III. Finale (Presto) – W. A. Mozart (1756–1791)
 
This was a new venue for me and a first hearing of this group—somewhat appropriate, since it’s only their second season. Oddly, the program was titled “Mozart, Barber & Ravel” probably because Mozart insisted on top billing. I’m kidding. The pieces were performed in the order listed above.
 
The program notes (that reinforced what I thought I remembered about the work) stated that the piece began as an homage to Couperin but morphed into a set of dances with each movement dedicated to individual friends of Ravel’s who died in World War I. The first movement began in a rippling French manner and had nice sweeping lines and tunes. It was gentle, pleasant, and somewhat wistful, with a nice build and return of dynamics. The second had a dance feel with brief motifs shared back and forth between sections of the orchestra. Full of charm, it was fun to listen to. The third movement’s gentler rhythms and tunes had a touch of a haunting quality, even in the bolder passages. The final movement started with bang up sound right from the start, solid and, once again, lots of fun. A more reflective section followed before closing out with an upbeat feel.
 
The Barber, for voice and orchestra, was a sort of through composed setting of poetry by James Agee. There was a very spare opening followed by free-form, stream of consciousness vocal writing. The setting was modern yet easy enough to listen to, and Ms. Davidson’s projection of the text was clear. A brisker, perky section followed that, due to increased volume, made the text a little more difficult to understand. When the writing returned to a more subdued style, the remainder of the score was easier to understand, with a more straightforward and logical marriage of music and text. It’s essentially a memory piece of a young man reflecting on the feelings of that certain summer. Commissioned by a soprano, it’s most often sung by a soprano, though it can also be sung by a tenor. Ms. Davidson did a fine job, as did the orchestra.
 
Mozart’s symphony had a brief, rather forceful opening before turning softer, if not necessarily sweeter. The scoring seemed very solid to me, with hints of drama. The allegro section that followed was also rather solid—the perking right along section had a certain depth to it, though it tended to go on a bit too long. The second movement was slower and sweeter but still had touches of drama and bite as well. It was pleasant enough, though just barely. The finale was brisk yet slightly restrained, with those touches of drama again, a couple of false endings, and then the real one. I enjoyed this symphony more than I thought I was going to.
 
The orchestra played very well all afternoon. This is a group and venue that I’ll probably be returning to. Their season will include solo recitals, chamber music, and orchestra concerts. What’s not to like?

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Midday Masterpieces (9/6/17)

The Argus Quartet – Clara Kim, violin; Jason Issokson, violin;
Dana Kelley, viola; Joann Whang, cello

String Quartet in C Major, Opus 74, No. 1 – Franz Joseph Haydn
This Is My Scary Robot Voice – Kerrith Livengood
Satellites – Garth Knox

This was the first concert of Midday Masterpieces’ new season, and quite enjoyable it was. These are free, hour-long concerts sponsored by WQXR, featuring students from The Juilliard School. Without a printed program, I don’t have movement names or composition dates, so my notes are a bit more scattered than usual. The first movement of the Haydn had a brief intro followed by a fun, moderately busy movement with a nice mix of different tempos. The second was slower to begin with but still full of energy. The third was dance-like (minuet?), and also fun, with more of that characteristic energy of the work plus a few touches of drama along the way. The fourth movement continued the energy, this time with fancy finger work thrown in for good measure. I’m not big on the theory of different moods associated with different keys, but the C Major here, along with the energy throughout, made this work seem cheerful and bright. And it was played very well.

Both Scary Robot and Satellites are by living composers, and in brief remarks from the stage, Ms. Kim described a bit of Scary Robot and what the composer was trying to achieve. The piece was very modern, pitting the composer’s normal voice (sort of shy and retiring) with her scary robot voice (more forceful and in your face). A slightly surreal opening had unison string pitches that then went to different players veering away from that unison, sometimes with dissonant notes and sometimes with just microtones creating the dissonances. A louder section reminded me of the adult voices in a Peanuts cartoon special. There was alternation between the two different voices, with slight variations from time to time. Interesting techniques were on display, but musically, it didn’t quite work for me.

Even though Satellites had three movements, the second and third seemed to blend together.
[Okay, I went scurrying to my good friend, the internet. This, from performance notes that I found: “Although Satellites was conceived as an organic whole, the three movements can also be performed separately, or in twos … When all three are performed, it is suggested to link the movements together, by ... holding the last note of the second movement on first violin until the viola enters to begin the last movement.”]
The first movement started out with lots and lots of pizzicato (plucked strings) that then had bowed strings from the violins, as well. The mix of techniques was nice, with the ever-present pizzicato as the glue holding it together. The second movement, Spectral Sunrise, had dramatic, sweeping sounds—a real feeling of something arising out of nothingness. The individual sunrises were pretty easy to detect. The piece then continued with yet again more mixing of techniques that somehow made the piece feel like Gustav Holst’s Planets gone goony. At one point, the players’ bows were used in a whip-like fashion that reminded me of those plastic tubes we used to whirl around over our heads to get weird pseudo-singing sounds. As strange as this piece was, I found that I really enjoyed it.

I’ll be going back for more Midday Masterpieces.

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The Plantation (9/2/17)

If this sounds familiar, it is. I attended a production of this play in August 2015 and posted about it on this blog. I attended a production of it again in 2016 but did not post. It's an adaptation of Chekov's The Cherry Orchard set in Virginia in the post-Reconstruction period. On that level, it works pretty well.

In taking a look at my earlier blog post, I was surprised to see that one of the things I missed in this production was one of the things that I liked (but had a problem with) in 2015. All three performances I've seen have taken place in a lovely, restored building on Governors Island. In 2015, the audience moved from place to place, which I liked, but it also broke up the flow of the four acts. In 2015 and 2016, all of the staging is indoors, but not everyone gets to see all of the staging. It's a bit of a Catch-22.

Some of the performers I saw on Saturday were the same for all three iterations. For the record, the play is produced by Brooklyn's Brave New World Repertory Theatre, which uses a mix of Equity and non-Equity actors. The performers were very good, across the boards. I even saw a couple of them on my return ferry and offered my congratulations. They were surprised that I had seen all three iterations—they don't know ConcertMeister!

That said, there is a musical element—the Fisk Jubilee Singers—that seemed to have a smaller role this time around. They provide atmosphere and bridging of scenes. A banjo was added which was pleasant but not really necessary.

The 'Cherry Orchard/Virginia' link was referenced mainly by the magnolia trees, on the Plantation that was being stripped of its heritage and ownership. In the sound effects department, the chopping down of the trees toward the end of the play sounded more like the clanging of water pipes, to me.

Part of me would really like to see a straightforward production of this play. In version I, we saw the house actually being closed down. That was not visible to most of the audience in versions II and III. And it's a powerful image. And the ending—one former slave left behind—is weak if he has to walk into the scene instead of being discovered there.

There's a lot right about this production. I'd like to see even more right. For those of you interested (and if the search function works for you on the ConcertMeister site) just search on 'plantation' and you'll find my 8/17/15 post.

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Cantata Profana (8/27/17)

Jacob Ashworth, violin; Bixby Kennedy, clarinet; Lee Dionne, piano
 
Suite for clarinet, violin, and piano, Op. 157b (1936) – I. Overture –
Darius Milhaud (1892–1974)
Duo Concertante for violin and piano (1932) – I. Cantilène; II. Eglogue I;
III. Eglogue II; IV. Gigue; V. Dithyrambe – Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971)
Suite for clarinet, violin, and piano, Op. 157b – II. Divertissement – Milhaud
Sonata in Eb Major for clarinet and piano, Op. 120, No. 2 (1894) –
I. Allegro amabile; II. Allegro appassionato; III. Andante con moto – Allegro – Johannes Brahms (1833–1897)
Suite for clarinet, violin, and piano, Op. 157b – III. Jeu – Milhaud
Suite from L’Histoire du Soldat (The Soldier’s Tale) (1918) – I. Marche du Soldat; II. Le violon du Soldat; III. Pastorale; IV. Marche Royale; V. Petit Concert; VI. Tango—Valse—Rag; VII. Danse du Diable – Stravinsky
 
’Tis the season! No, not quite that season yet, but Sunday’s concert was the opening of the season for Concerts on the Slope. At first glance, the program looked a little disjointed. That’s because it was—the three movements of the Milhaud were not played together. That made it slightly awkward since audiences usually don’t applaud individual movements and this audience didn’t quite know what to do at the end of the first piece on the program. Eventually we did applaud. I’m going to treat the Milhaud as one entire work and comment on the three movements here. It opened with all three players with a sound that was very full, bright and slightly impressionistic. It was tuneful and fun. The second movement had the violin and clarinet bouncing phrases back and forth before joining together, eventually joined by the piano as well, with all three playing calmly and pleasantly. The third movement was very playful, scored for violin and clarinet only, which seemed odd to me. My notes read (no piano?). Well as it turns out, that was strange because the suite has a Finale for all three instruments that was not included on this concert. So it was odd to have the movements spread out through the concert and to not hear the complete work.
 
The Stravinsky violin/piano duo had a slightly mysterious opening that was modern but not all that jarring; after a louder section it had a softer ending. The second movement had gentler, smooth violin lines paired with an energetic running accompaniment in the piano, and then turning rather boisterous for the end. The third movement was rather spare for both, to begin with, pretty in its own way even with modern-sounding phrases and intervals. This truly felt like a duo. The fourth was, not surprisingly, a dance-like gigue. It had an energy that was not quite unbridled, and a feeling of perpetual motion. There was a brief, calmer section before the energetic drive returned for what seemed a rather long section that then ended abruptly. The last movement was slightly mysterious again—in fact, it was pretty much a copy of the first movement, in terms of overall feel as opposed to the actual music, including a quiet ending.
 
The clarinet/piano sonata of Brahms began with a nice, gentle romantic-era feel. Even with its mix of calmer and bolder moments, scattered ideas and meandering paths, it was enjoyable to listen to. (Between the movements, there was some late arrival seating—3:40pm for a 3:00pm concert!) The second movement was richer and fuller, and more focused, compositionally. A contrasting section had a piano solo opening with the clarinet eventually joining. A solid, more tuneful section followed, although it also wandered a little. The final movement had a fairly quiet opening, with a build-up to more substantial writing, though there was also a lot of back and forth with a mixture of tempos and volume, altogether too segmented for my taste. The allegro at the end was exciting in its way but felt as though it was merely tacked on as an afterthought.
 
A little bit of history about L’Histoire was announced from the stage. It was slightly confusing, so it sent me to my good friend Wikipedia. L’Histoire is a theatrical piece by Stravinsky that was originally scored for a septet. When the suite was created, it included only five of the seven movements. Stravinsky then created the trio version we heard, but Mr. Kennedy reinstated the Pastorale and Marche Royale. Whew!
 
The piece opened with typical Stravinsky rhythms. Having somewhat of a primitive feel, it was definitely a march that included some strident clarinet writing. The second movement was a piano and violin duo, with the clarinet eventually joining in. The third was much calmer at the beginning, with more dissonances and a few louder outbursts from time to time amid the, overall, calm movement. The very obvious march followed, which was full and rhythmic and sometimes a bit harsh. The fifth movement was brisk with driving rhythms for all three players, chugging along. It had a few relatively quiet interludes but for the most part, the louder sections were almost relentless. For the sixth, the piano and violin tango was more hinted at than real—the waltz that followed had violin and clarinet lines above an oom-pah-pah over and over and over from the piano—then a smooth segue into the rag, which was also more hinted at, in terms of rhythms. The ending movement had a harsh, almost violent opening. The dance seemed tinged with evil, or at least danger, and was quite appropriate for a dance of the devil. All in all, even with its harshness, driving rhythms, and relentless moments, the entire piece worked as a whole for me. All three players performed very well throughout the afternoon, and returned for a well deserved encore.
 
A note on this ‘free’ concert. As with many others, there is a suggested donation, in this case twenty dollars. While I didn’t put that much into the free-will offering basket at the back of the church, I did contribute. And one of the good things about the Slope concerts is that all of the donations go directly to the performers—there is nothing taken out for expenses, etc.
 
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Rite of Summer (8/13/17)

Contemporaneous – “The Two Halves” was the title of the final concert in this summer series.

Contemporaneous is an ensemble whose mission is to bring to life the music of now. Sunday’s concert listing was as follows:

Aphelia (2017) – Ian Gottlieb (b. 1990)
Vertical Fields (2014) – Emma O’Halloran (b. 1985)
The Two Halves (2014) – The Platelayers, The Great Sunstroke, The Exile, The Giant Sleeps, The Two Halves, The Azimuth – Finnegan Shanahan (b. 1992)

Aphelia was scored for piano (four hands), electric guitar, electric bass, and percussion (drum set, marimba, and spun cymbals). It was very New Age-y, with a slight Latin-esque beat, essentially a wash of sound that did not make much of an impression on me. The spun cymbals were interesting—literally cymbals from a drum set that a percussionist spun on their edges while sitting on the stage. Not in a chair, mind you, actually on the stage.

Though I may have mentioned this before, Rite of Summer is an out-of-doors performance series that takes place on Governors Island. Because of that, I found Vertical Fields to be a little out of place, being scored for only piano, violin, and cello. The music itself was not quite Philip Glass but it was darn close. It consisted of very short phrases repeated over and over, with slight variation or expansion from time to time. I understand the concept. It’s not one that I find particularly appealing.

The Two Halves was definitely the main event of the afternoon, scored for a large ensemble that included flute, clarinet, saxophone, voice, horn, trumpet, trombone, guitar, keyboard, and percussion, among others. In fact, Mr. Shanahan played violin, guitar, and keyboard and also contributed vocals. David Bloom, conductor, told us that Contemporaneous has played the piece many times and always looks forward to performing it. I found myself wondering whether Mr. Shanahan would have to be replaced by two or three musicians, if he was not able to be a part of a performance of the work. The six movements all ran together, so it was hard to tell them apart at times. I did, however, get a hint of the titles from the music I was hearing. Sometimes. The sounds were varied in terms of volume and tempo, and the whole thing chugged along in an amiable fashion. I know that I’ve commented before about broadening my horizons, but this is as broad as I think I want to go, for a while at least. I’ll most likely go back for more next summer, though.

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Sunday Afternoon Jazz (8/6/17)

Audrey Silver, vocals
Larry Corban, guitar
 
This was a rather pleasant way to spend an hour at the Lenox Hill Neighborhood House. A small (maybe forty people) audience heard a dozen-plus tunes. There was no printed program, so my notes are a bit haphazard.
Ms. Silver sang with a microphone attached to a small reverb box (it probably has a real name but I’m not going to go searching) and Mr. Corban was appropriately amped up.
 
The first song was called It’s a Wonderful World but it was not the one I’m used to, and I did not get the composer’s name. Mr. Corban’s tapping/slapping foot was the percussion for most of the afternoon, though not for every song. Ms. Silver’s voice was pretty in a slightly breathy, easygoing jazz way, and she did a mild scat section here and in a couple of other pieces, as well.
 
Gershwin’s Isn’t It a Pity? followed, with If I Had You (1928) after that. There was a bit of patter between the two performers, but only Ms. Silver had a mic, so it didn’t really work too well. I rather enjoyed Monk’s Dream, by Thelonious Monk, with its up tempo flair.
 
I had to research the name Antonio Carlos Jobim, who was the composer of the next tune, Meditation, which was fun, after a false start by the guitarist. Which brings up the laid back feel of the afternoon. Apparently there was no written set ahead of time, since Ms. Silver pulled sheets of music (sometimes randomly, it seemed) before briefly working out a tempo with Mr. Corban and then beginning. The whole thing was a little too laid back for my taste. Meditation had a Latin flair while Je t’embrasser, sung in French, was quieter. I found it slightly odd that the tune is known to me as Heart of my Heart. Maybe it’s just a setting of different words to that tune.
 
Strangely, it was about this time that I noticed patrons leaving early. I’m not sure why, but when all was said and done, about a quarter of the audience had left before the end of the program. The next song was Just a Garden in the Rain, followed by New Year’s Eve, which had a definite NYC vibe and was written by Ms. Silver. Small Day Tomorrow, written by Bob Dorough, was next. Although he’s a fine jazz composer, he’s also known for writing music for Schoolhouse Rock! Who knew? He’s also still performing at age ninety-three.
 
Right after I Thought about You, a cell phone went off, even though there had been an announcement from the stage to silence all devices before the program began. It was not mine. Another Gershwin tune, But Not for Me, was next. As a bit of a nod to Rosemary Clooney, Ms. Silver followed that with I’ll Be Seeing You.
 
An Irving Berlin song, How Deep Is the Ocean? was next, and then the afternoon ended with an up tempo version of Exactly Like You. I may check out some future programming at the Neighborhood House as a nice way to spend a brief part of a Sunday afternoon.

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Naumburg Orchestral Concerts (8/1/17)

ECCO – East Coast Chamber Orchestra

St. Paul’s Suite, Op. 29, No. 2 (1922) – I. Jig: Vivace; II. Ostinato: Presto;
III. Intermezzo: Andante con moto; IV. Finale (The Dargason): Allegro –
Gustav Holst (1874–1934)
String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor, Op. 110 (1960) –I. Largo; II. Allegro molto; III. Allegretto; IV. Largo; V. Largo – Dimitri Shostakovich (1906–1975)
Chorale No. 22: Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele – Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750)
Holberg Suite, Op. 40 (1884) – I. Praeludium (Allegro vivace); II Sarabande (Andante); III. Gavotte (Allegretto); IV. Air (Andante religioso); V. Rigaudon (Allegro con brio) – Edvard Greig (1843–1907)
Chorale No. 34: Erbarm’ dich mein, o Herre Gott – J.S. Bach
Rounds (1944) – I. Allegro molto vivace; II. Adagio; III. Allegro vigoroso –
David Diamond (1915–2005)

Another Naumburg season (the 112th!) completed. And I attended all five concerts. ECCO is a collective, with no set leader, and performs without a conductor, though usually the first violinist, who changes from piece to piece, is nominally in charge. This particular concert was all strings, all the time, and the players stood for each piece (cellists excepted).The first movement of the Holst was brisk and dance-like, very pleasant with a mix of dynamic ranges and jumpy-versus-smooth phrases. There was a rush to the end, with a slight slowdown before the very end. The second movement had running rhythmic phrases with jaunty tunes above them, yet it still had a gentle quality. The third opened with pizzicato strings plus a violin solo overlaying it. It was slow but not sad, then picked up in energy similar to the first movement jig. It had nice contrast all the way around with themes that seemed to be a mix of Slavic and Oriental/Asian. The finale was based on folk songs, including Greensleeves, and was a brisk and just plain fun mix of a rondo and theme and variations.

The Shostakovich was interesting, especially since it was played by the entire orchestra and not by a quartet. In doing a little bit of reading, I found that the work has been transcribed for string orchestra, but it wasn’t credited as such in the program. Curious, to me at least. The first movement was slow and purposely sad, veering close to being bleak. The second (they all seemed to blend together) was rhythmic, leading into a folk tune section. The third was jaunty, if subdued, reminding me of a Slavic dance. We next had a slightly mournful drone with dashes of a louder outburst and then a return to a slightly bleak feel. This led to a movement that was somber and somewhat calm—but with a hint of promise?

The Bach chorale was really just filler—a four-part song scored for orchestra. It was mostly calm to begin with and stayed that way that way through to the end. If anything, it should have been played between the first two works.

The Greig was similar to the Holst (and other Vivaldi pieces) written for girls’ schools as performance pieces. The first movement was energetic, with lovely themes that reminded me of Dvorák string writing. It not only sounded fun, it looked like ECCO was having fun playing it. The second movement was slower, gentler, straightforward, and pleasant. The third was dance-like, very formal, and structured, but in a good way. The contrasting middle section was more relaxed before returning to the rigid, formal beginning. The next movement was slower, both sedate and contemplative, tugging slightly at the heartstrings. The fifth movement was brighter in tempo, with some fun phrase endings thrown in. A contrasting section seemed like a bit of filler, echoing earlier themes before leading back to the main theme and a bang-up ending.

I hesitate to say this, but the second Bach chorale was pretty much the same as the first, with a few rhythmic/phrasing variations. At least it was centered in the second half.

The first movement of the Diamond had a modern approach—an open ‘American’ sound in a brisk tempo but with real tunes to be heard and enjoyed. Once again, the movements seemed to blend together. The second was calm and pretty but not quite compelling. It was pleasant enough. Just. A lively fugal section began the third movement, though it left me wanting something different. I’m not quite sure what. Overall, a great program by a superb orchestra under solid collective management. I hope to be around for many more Naumburg seasons.

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Lil’ Miss SpitFIRE (7/22/17)

Samantha and Roger Talmage

This was truly community theater, as in Samantha Talmage was the composer (I think? maybe they both were? maybe they both were responsible for book/music/lyrics?) but she was at least the Music Director and conductor of keyboard, bass, and drums. She was also the Older Annie Sullivan. Oh, did I forget to mention that this was, ostensibly, the story of Annie Sullivan, tutor and mentor to Helen Keller? Well it was. Unfortunately, and maybe because this was touted as a Musical Reading, we didn’t see much spitfire. Yes, there were a few blow-ups between hot-headed Annie and her hot-headed father, an Irish man who fell prey to the drink (hmm, is there truth to stereotypes?). But not enough to create a spitfire.

Musically speaking, clocking in at twenty-one musical numbers, this is way too many. And most were generic, sitting within the same key/tonality, with not much interesting movement. I actually was moved by the moments in the score and show when Annie’s mother, and her brother, died. Nicely done, if a bit too pat.

The performances (and I don’t usually do this) ranged from OK to passable to ‘gosh let’s put on a show’—not that there’s anything wrong with that. But at twenty-one musical numbers, it was somewhat numbing. What else to say? I’m thinking and hoping that additional dialogue could flesh out some of it. To me, this is a musical that would need lots and lots of work—trimming, focus, something—to make some better improvements. Even the title number didn’t have the oomph it needed. Back to the drawing board, I think.

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Naumburg Orchestral Concerts – Orpheus Chamber Orchestra (7/18/17)

Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major, BWV 1048 (1721) – I. Allegro;
II. Adagio (Cadenza); III. Allegro – Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750)
Muse (2007) – I. brilliant, fiery; II. with a light touch, ornate; III. willful, deliberate – Christopher Theofanidis (1967–)
Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 in F Major, BWV 1047 (1721) – I. (no tempo indicated); II. Andante; III. Allegro assai – J.S. Bach
Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 in D Major, BWV 1050 (1721) – I. Allegro;
II. Affetuoso; III. Allegro – J.S. Bach
Brandenburg Concerto No. 6 in B-flat Major, BWV 1051 (1721) – I. Allegro; II. Adagio ma non tanto; III. Allegro – J.S. Bach
 
Orpheus is a chamber orchestra that plays without a conductor—instead, different players within the group take on leadership responsibilities for different pieces. When I looked at the program Tuesday evening, I thought to myself, “Won’t there be a lot of the same sort of music over and over?” It turns out that the Brandenburgs are different enough in terms of scoring and musical ideas that my fears were ungrounded. Brandenburg 3 was scored for ten strings and harpsichord. The first movement was mostly tutti (all playing together) and was bright but not flashy, with a nice mix of dynamics. A linking theme was a solid unison, including octaves, at the ends of phrases and sections. The slower second movement was very brief, and then it moved right into the third movement that was a chugging rhythmic section, the bulk of the movement. Very enjoyable.
 
The second piece was created as a companion piece to Brandenburg 3. Its first movement had modern rhythmic phrases in the style of Philip Glass or John Adams, but they were more accessible, aurally, and were passed back and forth from section to section in the orchestra. The second movement seemed feathery but grounded. A smoother section came into play, though still having modern harmonies and phrases leading to a rather eerie ending. The third movement was brisk and strong. It wandered a little—everything tied together at the end, but a little weakly, to my ear. This piece had a larger violin section than Br 3.
 
That said, reconfiguring the stage between pieces was somewhat disconcerting (pun intended). In this case, four music stands were brought to the forestage for the soloists, who were for the most part stepping out of the orchestra. The soloists for Branndenburg 2 were Elizabeth Mann, flute; Roni Gal-Ed, oboe; Caleb Hudson, trumpet; and Eric Wyrick, violin. The opening of the first movement seemed a little more sophisticated to me, possibly because of the added instruments. It had a nice brisk tempo. The second movement, quieter, was scored for flute, oboe, and violin, and was quite lovely. The third movement began with trumpet, oboe, and cello, soon joined by the violin and flute, and finally the entire orchestra. The movement is almost a mini concerto that was sort of playful but with solidity. I jotted a note that said, “Full sized trumpet?” When reading about Br 2 online, I found that it often uses a piccolo trumpet, and that might have been the case here, though it was not mentioned in the program notes. At any rate, the trumpet plays in a very high part of its range throughout, which lends a certain excitement to the work.
 
Brandenburg 5 had Ms. Mann, flute; Areta Zhulla, violin; and Paolo Bordignon, harpsichord as soloists. In general, though this piece was scored for smaller forces than the previous selection, the first movement was lively and featured the harpsichord a lot more, though with the violin and flute joining in as well, with the orchestral strings as accompaniment. An extensive harpsichord cadenza (a solo that can sometimes have improvisations included) led back to a brief recap of the opening of the movement. The second movement was harpsichord, violin and flute only with an opening that was quiet and almost sad. The fact that three instruments can hold our attention in this manner is a testament to the genius of Bach; he had us wrapped around his little finger (and rapt, as well). The third movement is violin, flute, harpsichord, and cello, before being joined by the strings in a stately but lively section, if that makes sense. The stateliness prevailed.
 
Brandenburg 6 is scored for very small forces—two violas, three cellos, one bass, and harpsichord (I think). The viola soloists were Dov Scheindlin and Nardo Poy. Even though the first movement had a bright feel and mode, the lower pitched instruments lent a slightly darker, heftier tone. The second movement didn’t quite seem to work as well for me, possibly due to the thinner forces. It was compelling at times, but just had too few compelling moments for me, and it had a slightly unresolved ending. The third movement was nice and bright, just the right antidote to the second movement. This one is often played as a stand-alone movement. It seems to sum up the Brandenburg experience, even with its reduced forces.

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