Arts and Artists of Tomorrow
Songbook
In Pieces – Joey Contreras
What a delightful way to end the twenty-sixth(!) season of Songbook. In Pieces
is described as a song cycle—as such, it’s not quite a musical and not quite an
opera. The overall style was Pop/Broadway/Rock. John Znidarsic wore two red hats for the occasion, as host and director. The cast members—Melanie Brook,
Mia Gerachis, Brad Greer, Stevi Incremona, Tyler Jent, and
Michael Williams—performed well and had memorized all sixteen of
Mr. Contreras’ songs. Susan Mandel, cello, and Gokce Erem, violin, rounded out the ensemble, with Mr. Contreras, at the piano, being the guiding force.
The evening did not present a complete story. Instead it linked the songs together with some nice acting as well as singing. I guess the overarching theme was the vagaries and what-ifs of love in all of its guises. Intro/You Never Know had a touch of a rock feel, hinting at what can be, and featured the entire company. It successfully set the tone. The different songs reflected on celebrating and acknowledging the young kind of love (a song title), and the moment for one’s time to shine, in a song that had a real powerhouse ending.
Me and Mr. Popularity was a sweetly funny song about a nerdy guy who has a crush on the guy he is tutoring in computering. While it was sometimes difficult to hear and understand some of the lyrics (many of them went by too quickly to really register upon a first hearing), Love Wildly had a repeated lyric that was quite telling: “I’d rather love wildly than not love at all.” And Facebook entered the musical theater vernacular with My Simple Request, sung by a gal who had a relationship in her mind only, since she could not bring herself to actually send the FB Friend request. (A similar moment took place in Significant Other, which I recently saw on Broadway, in a wildly funny scene where a guy finally hits the ‘Send’ button for an email that everybody repeatedly tells him not to send.) Welcome to the theater, Facebook!
The journey continued through the ‘why isn’t it working?’ phase of love, as well as the ‘can it work?’ phase. As is often the case, for those of us who have lived through these phases, the answer is elusive more times than not. During the equivalent of an 11 o’clock number, In Pieces, a phone went off. And, bravely, the composer halted the performance, asked for it to be turned off (the guy eventually left the hall, since he couldn’t put his hands on his phone immediately), and the performers took the number from the top again. Bravo to both the composer and the artist singing. The gist of the song was—can we only love in pieces, even if we think or know that this won’t last forever? Mr. Contreras then took the lead on the intro to Fork in the Road, which brought us to the crux of the ‘love’ issue, and then was joined by the full company. The song also incorporated the lyrics “you never know,” which brought us full circle.
This was the premiere performance of the song cycle, and I think it shows a tremendous amount of promise. As always, Songbook is a bit of a crap shoot, although I knew ahead of time that this would be an evening of Mr. Contreras’ music. This one was on the money. Not surprisingly, I will be attending Songbook when it begins its twenty-seventh season in September.
ConcertMeister
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
Monday, May 15, 2017
Song Recital (5/13/17)
Christopher Yoon, tenor
Binna Han, piano
This was a recital sponsored by the Carnegie Hall Neighborhood Concert series, which I highly recommend. This season is winding down, but check them out online beginning in September. It was quite enjoyable and got a pretty good turnout. (I’m dreadful with house size, but I’d put it at 70 to 80 in the audience—people, not age!) I have heard Mr. Yoon at least once before, in an open master class in the fall of 2014. I enjoyed hearing a full recital.
It was a fairly standard vocal recital, with four sets of songs. The first set was Samuel Barber (1910–1981) followed by Franz Schubert (1797–1828). After intermission we heard Paolo Tosti (1846–1916), closing out with a set of traditional Korean songs. Considering that there were sixteen songs on the program, not every one will get the full treatment. The Barber was an actual set, Three Songs, Op. 10. They included relatively calm, modern harmonies and vocal lines followed by a more energetic piece, ending with a very energetic piece with a martial feel and a very strong finish.
After a pause, we had five Schubert songs, ending with the well-known Erlkönig,
D. 328, which I associate more with a baritone voice, but which was quite effective in the tenor range. The energetic yet slightly macabre story was well acted and had a strong presentation.
The second half of the concert had four songs by Paolo Tosti—a composer completely unknown to me. The first was gentle to begin with, fairly dramatic at times (without going overboard), and seemed like an Italian folk song with hints of an operatic feel. Since this was my general reaction to the entire set, I decided to do an internet search of Signor Tosti and read things like “light fare,” and “salon music.” These were somewhat sentimental songs reminiscent of O Sole Mio or Come Back to Sorrento, so my instincts were pretty good. While Tosti never wrote an opera, his songs have been recorded by the likes of Pavarotti and Domingo; as such, they were a nice addition to this song recital.
The four traditional Korean songs were presented nicely and included one with a virtual perpetual motion of accompaniment, one with touches of drama, one with vocal renditions of bird sounds, and overall, somewhat typical Asian harmonies and flourishes. Throughout, Mr. Yoon’s diction was very good (with maybe a few too hard ‘t’ sounds in the songs in English) though he really blossomed when singing in Italian. Ms. Han was an effective and supportive accompanist/partner throughout, as well.
The audience was extremely appreciative, and an encore was presented. Unfortunately, not with a great result. The chosen aria was Nessun dorma, from Verdi’s Turandot. It is iconic and beloved. Alas, Mr. Yoon was not up to the task and, after botching the crowning high note, wisely decided to not attempt it a second time. (Note: I normally do not write reviews or critiques, but this was such a germane part of the performance, I felt that it was necessary to comment on it. A botched encore of such a well-known aria cannot (or maybe should not?) be glossed over.) Did it ruin the afternoon? No. Did it present a bit of a downer? Yes. Unfortunately, in this case, I calls ’em like I sees ’em.
ConcertMeister
Binna Han, piano
This was a recital sponsored by the Carnegie Hall Neighborhood Concert series, which I highly recommend. This season is winding down, but check them out online beginning in September. It was quite enjoyable and got a pretty good turnout. (I’m dreadful with house size, but I’d put it at 70 to 80 in the audience—people, not age!) I have heard Mr. Yoon at least once before, in an open master class in the fall of 2014. I enjoyed hearing a full recital.
It was a fairly standard vocal recital, with four sets of songs. The first set was Samuel Barber (1910–1981) followed by Franz Schubert (1797–1828). After intermission we heard Paolo Tosti (1846–1916), closing out with a set of traditional Korean songs. Considering that there were sixteen songs on the program, not every one will get the full treatment. The Barber was an actual set, Three Songs, Op. 10. They included relatively calm, modern harmonies and vocal lines followed by a more energetic piece, ending with a very energetic piece with a martial feel and a very strong finish.
After a pause, we had five Schubert songs, ending with the well-known Erlkönig,
D. 328, which I associate more with a baritone voice, but which was quite effective in the tenor range. The energetic yet slightly macabre story was well acted and had a strong presentation.
The second half of the concert had four songs by Paolo Tosti—a composer completely unknown to me. The first was gentle to begin with, fairly dramatic at times (without going overboard), and seemed like an Italian folk song with hints of an operatic feel. Since this was my general reaction to the entire set, I decided to do an internet search of Signor Tosti and read things like “light fare,” and “salon music.” These were somewhat sentimental songs reminiscent of O Sole Mio or Come Back to Sorrento, so my instincts were pretty good. While Tosti never wrote an opera, his songs have been recorded by the likes of Pavarotti and Domingo; as such, they were a nice addition to this song recital.
The four traditional Korean songs were presented nicely and included one with a virtual perpetual motion of accompaniment, one with touches of drama, one with vocal renditions of bird sounds, and overall, somewhat typical Asian harmonies and flourishes. Throughout, Mr. Yoon’s diction was very good (with maybe a few too hard ‘t’ sounds in the songs in English) though he really blossomed when singing in Italian. Ms. Han was an effective and supportive accompanist/partner throughout, as well.
The audience was extremely appreciative, and an encore was presented. Unfortunately, not with a great result. The chosen aria was Nessun dorma, from Verdi’s Turandot. It is iconic and beloved. Alas, Mr. Yoon was not up to the task and, after botching the crowning high note, wisely decided to not attempt it a second time. (Note: I normally do not write reviews or critiques, but this was such a germane part of the performance, I felt that it was necessary to comment on it. A botched encore of such a well-known aria cannot (or maybe should not?) be glossed over.) Did it ruin the afternoon? No. Did it present a bit of a downer? Yes. Unfortunately, in this case, I calls ’em like I sees ’em.
ConcertMeister
Friday, May 12, 2017
Jane’s Walks (5/6–7/17)
Um, that doesn’t sound like a concert, ’Meister. Well, yes and no—but more about that later. Jane’s Walks are named for Jane Jacobs, who was an urbanist through the 1940s, ’50s, and ’60s. She notably tangled with Robert Moses to defeat a program that would have had a large roadway cut right through Greenwich Village. In honor of her, the Municipal Art Society has sponsored Jane’s Walks here in NYC as well as in other cities. The focus is loosely architecture but can really include just about anything. The walks are led by volunteers who put together a walk based on what pleases them, or interests them, or is their area of (loosely, once again) expertise. NYC’s were May 5, 6, and 7 but May 5 was a workday for me (and it rained cats and dogs!), so I focused on Saturday and Sunday.
I always set an ambitious agenda and this year was no exception. On Saturday, I accomplished four out of five (with optional alternates) on my agenda. Carnegie Hill Then and Now; Murray Hill; Downtown Jazz; and Tudor City. I skipped the 6pm Gay Bars that Are Gone walk because, after a day of traipsing, I decided that I really didn’t want to end up in the West Village/Chelsea at 7:30pm and then traipse home and put dinner together.
Carnegie Hill was like visiting an old friend—the Church of the Heavenly Rest, all those tony private schools I would never have been able to attend, the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, the House of the Redeemer, etc. But we also took note of ‘smaller’ mansions and large, fancy buildings that have been apartmentalized—is so a word, I just used it! The tour guide was fairly knowledgeable if a bit soft spoken. And of course, if someone had a question that she didn’t quite have the answer for, someone on the tour Googled it (mostly the asking/list price for mansions/big houses that were on the market).
Murray Hill had two leaders. This was good and bad. At one point, one would explain something to a portion of the group and then when the group was fully assembled after walking to a meeting point, the second leader would tell us what some of us had just heard. They need to work on their tag-team talking. But the basics were there and very interesting—the original Mrs. Murray entertained members of the British army during the Revolution after they had vanquished the Colonial forces. Her smart thinking allowed the Colonial troops to make their retreat and combine with General Washington’s troops, to regroup and eventually succeed in winning the war. Interestingly, when one of the guides saw people taking notes, she informed us that we would all get a little brochure that outlined all of what we were seeing that day. I got one, and it is a very nice walking tour that can be taken on one’s own, incorporating mansions, the Morgan Library, Sniffen Court, as well as the brownstone where Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt lived when their first two children were born. I asked for a brochure and ducked out early so that I could make my way to the Lower East Side for the Downtown Jazz tour. And I almost missed it.
As some of you may know, who know me in person, I am an early person. As in, I do not like to be late. Ever. Imagine my chagrin when my bus down Second Avenue was rerouted due to a street fair. The tour meeting place was the corner of Essex and Delancey Streets at 2pm. I arrived at approximately 2:07pm—OK, OK, at exactly 2:07pm. No tour group. On a whim, I walked one block east, looking for a tour group. At the next corner I looked downtown. Nothing. I looked uptown. There was the group!
The downtown jazz scene was never really my scene but I feel that it’s important to broaden my horizons. Mine are now broader. The tour leader here was very passionate about his subject matter and he had visuals. Specifically album covers (I presume the records, too). Albums. The things you listened to before MP3, iPads, CDs, or cassettes (or 8-Tracks for you real nerds). The only name I’m going to remember is Sonny Rollins, because Sonny used a portion of the Willamsburg Bridge as his ‘woodshed’—a place where he went to get his head, heart, and breath together at a time when he felt that he just wasn’t playing at the level he wanted to. He did this for about two years. When he came back to the world of performing and recording, everyone heard/saw a huge difference. Long story short, our tour guide is on a mission to get the bridge renamed as the Sonny Rollins Bridge. Hey, it worked for Ed Koch and RFK, why not give this a try? Along the way, we also saw buildings that used to house LES jazz venues but, alas, are no more. In a cool turn of events, while walking from place to place, the guide used his iPad thingy to play jazz recordings of the people he was discussing. I liked that a lot. Next for me was a bus ride uptown for about fifty blocks to Tudor City. Here, I was early.
While waiting for the tour guide, I guess I looked like I belonged because several people asked if I was the tour guide! When he arrived, he went into his spiel about Tudor City—a collection of tall buildings with very small apartments on the far eastern edge of Manhattan. As it turns out, they are all condos (or co-ops, I still get those confused) in buildings that were built in the mid- to late-1920s. Their crenellated tops and casement windows evoked Tudor to the developers, hence the name. And that’s about all we learned. We didn’t walk the site to see/explore any of the architectural designs. We got a smattering of history about the construction. But we mostly got a talk/lecture (based on a college dissertation) on the financing involved, the landlord feuds involved, and the infighting involved with the financing and feuds. Not quite a Jane’s Walk. In fact, several people left after about ten minutes, after we convinced the guide to not stand in an exposed area, with both wind and traffic noise. This, indeed, was a minor flaw with most of the walks I went on, The guides talked away from us, not to us. Granted, I know that they are not professional tour guides, but many of them told us they’d done these before. Did they not realize they have to talk to us? Whew! And that was only Saturday.
So. Sunday. After a time snafu (totally on me), I attended So You Think You Know 34th Street? It was pleasant enough with a nice bit of history (dueling mansions) about 34th Street and Fifth Avenue. And we did go into the lobby of the Empire State Building (I hadn’t been there in years) and learned about the marble, a clock, and a sometimes-working anemometer. I saw the old B. Altman building, but from a different viewpoint from the one I saw the day before on the Murray Hill walk—what a difference a day makes. We really explored very little of 34th Street but we saw other parts of the neighborhood, including L-shaped buildings, where there are holdouts (usually corners) that have to be built around. One is at Macy*s, where after Macy*s became the success that it was, the holdout owner approached R.H. Macy about finally selling. Macy did not deal; good on him!
Next, I hopped on the R train for a trip to the Prospect Ave. stop and a Five Bridges of Gowanus tour in Brooklyn. Alas, that was not to be, due to a power outage at DeKalb in Brooklyn. Hey, I tried to be non-totally Manhattan-centric. Since my next tour was in Chelsea, I decided to kill some time there. Checked out the FIT Museum. Closed on Sundays. Bummer. So I did the next best thing. I found a place to sit, drink beer, and read a book. Waldy’s. Go there (or call for takeout/delivery if you’re in the ’hood). I didn’t eat but they were doing a good, steady business from their wood burning oven. And all of the product on display was Italian—Cento tomatoes, Colavita olive oil, etc. I had two pints of draught Brooklyn lager and did some people watching along with my reading. I rarely do that, so it was a nice change of pace.
Oh, back to Jane’s Walks. At 3pm I was part of about 30 or so folks watching a
3-D Time Machine slide show. Time Machine because after seeing the slides of the Madison Park/Flatiron district, the walk would include true 3-D views of many of the slides we just saw. Alas, there was just enough drizzle after the slide show that I decided to ditch and just head home.
On both days, I had a 6pm walk on my agenda but on both days I decided that I didn’t want to start traveling home at 7:30pm. So I opted out. Jane’s Walks 2018? Count me in. I don’t think I’m quite ready to design my own walk to lead. But I’m thinking about it.
WalkMeister
I always set an ambitious agenda and this year was no exception. On Saturday, I accomplished four out of five (with optional alternates) on my agenda. Carnegie Hill Then and Now; Murray Hill; Downtown Jazz; and Tudor City. I skipped the 6pm Gay Bars that Are Gone walk because, after a day of traipsing, I decided that I really didn’t want to end up in the West Village/Chelsea at 7:30pm and then traipse home and put dinner together.
Carnegie Hill was like visiting an old friend—the Church of the Heavenly Rest, all those tony private schools I would never have been able to attend, the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, the House of the Redeemer, etc. But we also took note of ‘smaller’ mansions and large, fancy buildings that have been apartmentalized—is so a word, I just used it! The tour guide was fairly knowledgeable if a bit soft spoken. And of course, if someone had a question that she didn’t quite have the answer for, someone on the tour Googled it (mostly the asking/list price for mansions/big houses that were on the market).
Murray Hill had two leaders. This was good and bad. At one point, one would explain something to a portion of the group and then when the group was fully assembled after walking to a meeting point, the second leader would tell us what some of us had just heard. They need to work on their tag-team talking. But the basics were there and very interesting—the original Mrs. Murray entertained members of the British army during the Revolution after they had vanquished the Colonial forces. Her smart thinking allowed the Colonial troops to make their retreat and combine with General Washington’s troops, to regroup and eventually succeed in winning the war. Interestingly, when one of the guides saw people taking notes, she informed us that we would all get a little brochure that outlined all of what we were seeing that day. I got one, and it is a very nice walking tour that can be taken on one’s own, incorporating mansions, the Morgan Library, Sniffen Court, as well as the brownstone where Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt lived when their first two children were born. I asked for a brochure and ducked out early so that I could make my way to the Lower East Side for the Downtown Jazz tour. And I almost missed it.
As some of you may know, who know me in person, I am an early person. As in, I do not like to be late. Ever. Imagine my chagrin when my bus down Second Avenue was rerouted due to a street fair. The tour meeting place was the corner of Essex and Delancey Streets at 2pm. I arrived at approximately 2:07pm—OK, OK, at exactly 2:07pm. No tour group. On a whim, I walked one block east, looking for a tour group. At the next corner I looked downtown. Nothing. I looked uptown. There was the group!
The downtown jazz scene was never really my scene but I feel that it’s important to broaden my horizons. Mine are now broader. The tour leader here was very passionate about his subject matter and he had visuals. Specifically album covers (I presume the records, too). Albums. The things you listened to before MP3, iPads, CDs, or cassettes (or 8-Tracks for you real nerds). The only name I’m going to remember is Sonny Rollins, because Sonny used a portion of the Willamsburg Bridge as his ‘woodshed’—a place where he went to get his head, heart, and breath together at a time when he felt that he just wasn’t playing at the level he wanted to. He did this for about two years. When he came back to the world of performing and recording, everyone heard/saw a huge difference. Long story short, our tour guide is on a mission to get the bridge renamed as the Sonny Rollins Bridge. Hey, it worked for Ed Koch and RFK, why not give this a try? Along the way, we also saw buildings that used to house LES jazz venues but, alas, are no more. In a cool turn of events, while walking from place to place, the guide used his iPad thingy to play jazz recordings of the people he was discussing. I liked that a lot. Next for me was a bus ride uptown for about fifty blocks to Tudor City. Here, I was early.
While waiting for the tour guide, I guess I looked like I belonged because several people asked if I was the tour guide! When he arrived, he went into his spiel about Tudor City—a collection of tall buildings with very small apartments on the far eastern edge of Manhattan. As it turns out, they are all condos (or co-ops, I still get those confused) in buildings that were built in the mid- to late-1920s. Their crenellated tops and casement windows evoked Tudor to the developers, hence the name. And that’s about all we learned. We didn’t walk the site to see/explore any of the architectural designs. We got a smattering of history about the construction. But we mostly got a talk/lecture (based on a college dissertation) on the financing involved, the landlord feuds involved, and the infighting involved with the financing and feuds. Not quite a Jane’s Walk. In fact, several people left after about ten minutes, after we convinced the guide to not stand in an exposed area, with both wind and traffic noise. This, indeed, was a minor flaw with most of the walks I went on, The guides talked away from us, not to us. Granted, I know that they are not professional tour guides, but many of them told us they’d done these before. Did they not realize they have to talk to us? Whew! And that was only Saturday.
So. Sunday. After a time snafu (totally on me), I attended So You Think You Know 34th Street? It was pleasant enough with a nice bit of history (dueling mansions) about 34th Street and Fifth Avenue. And we did go into the lobby of the Empire State Building (I hadn’t been there in years) and learned about the marble, a clock, and a sometimes-working anemometer. I saw the old B. Altman building, but from a different viewpoint from the one I saw the day before on the Murray Hill walk—what a difference a day makes. We really explored very little of 34th Street but we saw other parts of the neighborhood, including L-shaped buildings, where there are holdouts (usually corners) that have to be built around. One is at Macy*s, where after Macy*s became the success that it was, the holdout owner approached R.H. Macy about finally selling. Macy did not deal; good on him!
Next, I hopped on the R train for a trip to the Prospect Ave. stop and a Five Bridges of Gowanus tour in Brooklyn. Alas, that was not to be, due to a power outage at DeKalb in Brooklyn. Hey, I tried to be non-totally Manhattan-centric. Since my next tour was in Chelsea, I decided to kill some time there. Checked out the FIT Museum. Closed on Sundays. Bummer. So I did the next best thing. I found a place to sit, drink beer, and read a book. Waldy’s. Go there (or call for takeout/delivery if you’re in the ’hood). I didn’t eat but they were doing a good, steady business from their wood burning oven. And all of the product on display was Italian—Cento tomatoes, Colavita olive oil, etc. I had two pints of draught Brooklyn lager and did some people watching along with my reading. I rarely do that, so it was a nice change of pace.
Oh, back to Jane’s Walks. At 3pm I was part of about 30 or so folks watching a
3-D Time Machine slide show. Time Machine because after seeing the slides of the Madison Park/Flatiron district, the walk would include true 3-D views of many of the slides we just saw. Alas, there was just enough drizzle after the slide show that I decided to ditch and just head home.
On both days, I had a 6pm walk on my agenda but on both days I decided that I didn’t want to start traveling home at 7:30pm. So I opted out. Jane’s Walks 2018? Count me in. I don’t think I’m quite ready to design my own walk to lead. But I’m thinking about it.
WalkMeister
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Midday Masterpieces (5/3/17)
Bordone Quartet
Daniel Cho, violin; Max Tan, violin; Jenni Seo, viola; Ari Evan, cello
Schubert – Quartettsatz in C minor, D. 703
Bartók – String Quartet No. 6, Sz. 114
Mendelssohn – String Quartet in E-flat Major, Op. 44 No. 3 – III. Adagio non troppo
These four young Juilliard students played a very pleasant performance after a bit of a rocky start. The Schubert (and he was only twenty when he wrote it) was pretty and interesting, with built-in drama from, and by, rhythmic back and forth bowing, and was really quite tuneful at times. Of some interest to me was their seating in a curved arc, with the first violin stage right then cello, viola, and the second violin downstage left. They changed that order from time to time throughout the performance. In fact, after Mr. Tan spoke about the Bartók, which was composed during a very down time in his life in 1939, after his mother had recently died, the quartet moved into the usual formation—violin I, violin II, cello, and viola. It was the last piece Bartók composed in Europe but it received its premiere here in
New York City.
Surprisingly, the stringent, atonal, more modern Bartók score seemed to focus the players a little more. The first movement opened with solo viola, sad and mournful, followed by all four players in unison/octaves. Even with its atonal characteristics, it was not overly harsh and had a somewhat ethereal ending. The second movement began with a brief cello tune accompanied by the other three strings. It also had a sad feel to open with, then a rhythmic section that struck me as angry, or at least upset. Another section seemed to be crying out while still having a feeling of hope. The first violin opened the third movement, with second violin and cello accompaniment finally joined by the viola in one long line building and building, then fading away leading into a rhythmic, somewhat strident section. A dance-like section followed, but with very little joy. In fact, parts of the movement were tuneful while also sounding mournful. The last movement was filled with a sad intensity—a sense of aching—very emotionally moving. In rereading my notes, I think what Bartók wrote was his version of grief. At least that was my interpretation.
For the Mendelssohn, the first and second violinists switched (this often occurs in string quartets) and they went back to first violin, cello, viola, and second violin formation. I can’t say that I noticed much of a difference in sound but it may make a difference to them. My ‘back-in-the-day’ barbershop quartet sometimes shifted our positions from song to song because it made the most sense for that specific piece. Hey, you never know. This was a slow movement from a Mendelssohn quartet that was also a little bit mournful but with much more of a sense of hope. There were relatively straightforward harmonies plus a touch of a deep, lush sound. At times it wanted to be a German chorale but then blossomed in another direction. What a great experience for these four young musicians to experience the power, enjoyment, and challenge of playing in this one-of-a-kind, close-knit ensemble. It’s a humbling journey to be savored and explored.
ConcertMeister
Daniel Cho, violin; Max Tan, violin; Jenni Seo, viola; Ari Evan, cello
Schubert – Quartettsatz in C minor, D. 703
Bartók – String Quartet No. 6, Sz. 114
Mendelssohn – String Quartet in E-flat Major, Op. 44 No. 3 – III. Adagio non troppo
These four young Juilliard students played a very pleasant performance after a bit of a rocky start. The Schubert (and he was only twenty when he wrote it) was pretty and interesting, with built-in drama from, and by, rhythmic back and forth bowing, and was really quite tuneful at times. Of some interest to me was their seating in a curved arc, with the first violin stage right then cello, viola, and the second violin downstage left. They changed that order from time to time throughout the performance. In fact, after Mr. Tan spoke about the Bartók, which was composed during a very down time in his life in 1939, after his mother had recently died, the quartet moved into the usual formation—violin I, violin II, cello, and viola. It was the last piece Bartók composed in Europe but it received its premiere here in
New York City.
Surprisingly, the stringent, atonal, more modern Bartók score seemed to focus the players a little more. The first movement opened with solo viola, sad and mournful, followed by all four players in unison/octaves. Even with its atonal characteristics, it was not overly harsh and had a somewhat ethereal ending. The second movement began with a brief cello tune accompanied by the other three strings. It also had a sad feel to open with, then a rhythmic section that struck me as angry, or at least upset. Another section seemed to be crying out while still having a feeling of hope. The first violin opened the third movement, with second violin and cello accompaniment finally joined by the viola in one long line building and building, then fading away leading into a rhythmic, somewhat strident section. A dance-like section followed, but with very little joy. In fact, parts of the movement were tuneful while also sounding mournful. The last movement was filled with a sad intensity—a sense of aching—very emotionally moving. In rereading my notes, I think what Bartók wrote was his version of grief. At least that was my interpretation.
For the Mendelssohn, the first and second violinists switched (this often occurs in string quartets) and they went back to first violin, cello, viola, and second violin formation. I can’t say that I noticed much of a difference in sound but it may make a difference to them. My ‘back-in-the-day’ barbershop quartet sometimes shifted our positions from song to song because it made the most sense for that specific piece. Hey, you never know. This was a slow movement from a Mendelssohn quartet that was also a little bit mournful but with much more of a sense of hope. There were relatively straightforward harmonies plus a touch of a deep, lush sound. At times it wanted to be a German chorale but then blossomed in another direction. What a great experience for these four young musicians to experience the power, enjoyment, and challenge of playing in this one-of-a-kind, close-knit ensemble. It’s a humbling journey to be savored and explored.
ConcertMeister
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
Silents Is, er, Are Golden (4/29/17)
Saturday brought showings of Why Girls Love Sailors (1927) and You’d Be Surprised (1926).
Why Girls Loved Sailors starred Stan Laurel and featured Oliver Hardy (though you could see the germ of something growing there). Oliver was first mate on a ship and Laurel was a lowly tar—but one who fell in love with a lovely lady. She was manhandled by bullies, so Stan donned drag to entice all of the other sailors (unbeknownst to them) to discredit the first mate. After much hilarity and slapstick, Stan got the girl. Maybe that was the only time?!?
You’d Be Surprised was the third in a series of staff picks series, ‘Star of the Season’, Raymond Griffith. Mr. Griffith, in top hat and with slick moustache, is the Coroner (the many-times-asked-for Coroner) who is called upon to uncover the murder of a man who hosted a party. OK, on the plot, for what it’s worth. Host, party on a houseboat, diamond necklace, necklace disappears, man opts for honesty (d’oh!), necklace case opened, request for necklace to be returned during lights out, lights out, lights up, host with knife in back. With me so far?
Enter cop, cop, cops, sarge, lieutenant, and commissioner, all saying (via title cards, of which there were many—precursors of sound?) this is a case for the Coroner. Griffith, the Coroner, eventually solves the case after a second death occurs—or did it? The assistant Coroner, a deaf/mute man, assumes the role of the murdered man in a re-enactment and ends up with a knife in his back. Even though Griffith and the actor portraying the assistant Coroner used ASL, I’m not sure whether it was real or a ruse. Things are seldom what they seem in murder mysteries or silent films. Anyhoo, after twists and turns, our hero finally untangles the web that was weaved (woven?).
As always, Ben Model did a fabulous job with the live piano accompaniment, Bruce Lawton (staff member whose picks these were), and Steve Massa, who spoke afterwards (even though I ducked out quickly), provided great insights into what we had just seen. A very worthwhile series—both the three Raymond Griffiths, and the Silent Clowns Film Series.
MovieMeister
Why Girls Loved Sailors starred Stan Laurel and featured Oliver Hardy (though you could see the germ of something growing there). Oliver was first mate on a ship and Laurel was a lowly tar—but one who fell in love with a lovely lady. She was manhandled by bullies, so Stan donned drag to entice all of the other sailors (unbeknownst to them) to discredit the first mate. After much hilarity and slapstick, Stan got the girl. Maybe that was the only time?!?
You’d Be Surprised was the third in a series of staff picks series, ‘Star of the Season’, Raymond Griffith. Mr. Griffith, in top hat and with slick moustache, is the Coroner (the many-times-asked-for Coroner) who is called upon to uncover the murder of a man who hosted a party. OK, on the plot, for what it’s worth. Host, party on a houseboat, diamond necklace, necklace disappears, man opts for honesty (d’oh!), necklace case opened, request for necklace to be returned during lights out, lights out, lights up, host with knife in back. With me so far?
Enter cop, cop, cops, sarge, lieutenant, and commissioner, all saying (via title cards, of which there were many—precursors of sound?) this is a case for the Coroner. Griffith, the Coroner, eventually solves the case after a second death occurs—or did it? The assistant Coroner, a deaf/mute man, assumes the role of the murdered man in a re-enactment and ends up with a knife in his back. Even though Griffith and the actor portraying the assistant Coroner used ASL, I’m not sure whether it was real or a ruse. Things are seldom what they seem in murder mysteries or silent films. Anyhoo, after twists and turns, our hero finally untangles the web that was weaved (woven?).
As always, Ben Model did a fabulous job with the live piano accompaniment, Bruce Lawton (staff member whose picks these were), and Steve Massa, who spoke afterwards (even though I ducked out quickly), provided great insights into what we had just seen. A very worthwhile series—both the three Raymond Griffiths, and the Silent Clowns Film Series.
MovieMeister
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