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