Monday, January 29, 2018

American Encounters (1/27/18)

American Quartets presented by The New York Classical Players
Stella Chen, violin; Eunae Koh, violin; Wei-Yang Andy Lin, viola;
Madeline Fayette, cello

String Quartet in F Major, Op. 96, No. 12 “American” (1893) – I. Allegro ma non troppo; II. Lento; III. Molto vivace; IV. Finale. Vivace ma non troppo – Antonín Dvořák (1841–1904)
Two Sketches Based on Indian Themes, A. 99 (1918–1919)– I. Lento e mesto; II. Allegro giocoso – Charles Tomlinson Griffes – (1884–1920)
String Quartet No. 1, “From the Salvation Army” – (1898–1902) – I. Chorale (Andante con moto); II. Prelude (Allegro); III. Offertory (Adagio cantabile);
IV. Postlude (Allegro marziale) – Charles Ives (1874–1954)

Dvořák was, of course, not American but he spent time in the new world and actually traveled throughout the United States, even composing the quartet I heard while summering is Spillville, Iowa. Several of the themes from the work are very recognizable. The first movement featured the viola and then the violin with a pleasant, happy-sounding, energetic theme—in fact, the entire movement had that sort of feel. Between the first and second movements, a cell phone went off (even after a request from the stage before the concert!). The second movement had a gentle, rocking sound to begin with but then got a little more dramatic. Even with the slower themes, there was still a very positive feeling, though also with a touch of the plaintive. (It wasn’t my day for quiet audience behavior, as a chatty child had to be escorted out of the auditorium during this movement.) The third movement was also energetic and fun, with themes easily tossed back and forth between the players. Even the more subdued sections had a forward energy. The main theme of the final movement had what seemed like Czech roots but with a fresh feel. The forward energy here made me think of Dvořák exploring his time in this country, musically speaking.

Before the second piece, there was tuning onstage, exits from the auditorium and a guy seating himself who bumped the lady next to her, setting off a squabble. As I said, not a good audience day. The Griffes had a somewhat stark opening, with modern harmonies and tonalities in a collection of solo themes set against drone-like accompaniments. There was a great deal of tension built into several sections that then resolved into a very strangely subdued ending. The second sketch had an energetic opening, but driving to where? It was a little scattered, compositionally, and drove to a rather abrupt ending.

One of the highlights of the Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts is the access to its many holdings of historical materials. In a display case in the lobby, I saw handwritten preliminary sketches of two of the pieces on the program as well as a $2,000 check written to Dvořák; a first installment on his salary as Director of the newly opened (1892) National Conservatory of Music in New York City. Viewing them was a pleasant way to spend part of the intermission.

The first movement of the Ives quartet had a tune in the cello that was then joined, fugue-style, by the viola, second violin and, finally, first violin. That sounds more complicated than it is since the tune itself was very brief. It sounded as though perhaps it was part of a hymn tune—somewhat appropriate, given the names of the movements. It had odd harmonies that were not grating and ended quite traditionally. The second movement reminded me of a fairly lively folk song that splintered apart and then came back together again, with the entire procedure repeated a couple of times. The third movement sounded like a straightforward hymn tune until it also went slightly off the rails via sliding, chromatic harmonies. Nothing brash; more like just a little weird. The fourth was more of the same but quicker, jumping from one idea to another very quickly and very often. It was like abruptly shifting directions but ending up together exactly where you were headed all along.

One note about the playing. The group dynamic was tighter and more fluid in the Griffes and Ives than in the Dvořák, which was a little surprising to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if the Dvořák got short shrift in terms of preparation since it was a more well known entity. Maybe the Griffes and Ives, being less well known, got more concentrated preparation. Just a theory. And the playing was very good throughout the entire afternoon.

ConcertMeister

Monday, January 22, 2018

Odds ’n’ Ends (1/13/18) (1/20/18)

The Silent Clowns Film Series and Hyacinth Goes Camping, Love of Life,
Oh Mother! and a theatrical monologue

I love a theme and the Silent Clowns (1/13/18) had an OK one—Housing Problems. Unfortunately, you can only watch so much wallpaper paste and paint being splashed around. Even if the splashers are Chaplin, Keaton, and Laurel & Hardy. New to me, though, was (were?) Ton of FunFrank “Fatty” Alexander, Hilliard “Fat” Karr, and William “Kewpie” Ross. Apparently the three of them had a run as silent comedies’ ‘Three Fat Guys’ before the ‘Two Fat Ladies’ of cooking fame. Or the ‘Three Tenors’ of classical music fame. But I digress.

Chaplin’s Work (1915) had him as a paperhanger. Mirth and mayhem ensued. Keaton’s One Week (1920) had him building a pre-fabricated house. Mayhem and mirth ensued. Heavy Love (1926) had a trio of really overweight actors building a house for a sweet young female. While doing so, they fell through roofs, were done in by ropes and pulleys, and rolled down hilly hillsides. Hilarity. The Finishing Touch (1928) had Laurel & Hardy repurposing Keaton’s plot. See mirth/mayhem, mayhem/mirth above.

Don’t get me wrong. All four films were worth seeing—just not at the same time. The guest pianist, Bernie Anderson, did a nice job with accompaniments though they were a little predictable. Still, very effective. And it’s great to hear live accompaniment to these silent films.

Hyacinth Goes Camping (1/20/18) had me from the get-go. I’m a big fan of the BBC serial Keeping Up Appearances. This version—really, a reading—had Hyacinth, Richard, Daisy, Onslow, Rose, Liz, Emmett, Daddy, and an omnipresent gentleman friend of Rose’s (the Earl of Crawford). The Earl invites Daddy and entourage to camp out on his estate. An Earl?!? Hyacinth is sold. Mirth and mayhem ensue. This was more of a radio play reading than a play, play reading, yet was still effective. The Carole Jackson script was directed by Johnny Culver.

Mr. Culver also wrote and directed a two-hander, Love of Life, with references to the soap opera and What’s My Line? Also presented as a reading, it had some interesting viewpoints and a nicely done shift of time frame. Oh Mother! by Sarah Galvin had a four-person cast that performed gamely and funnily (is so a word!). Especially Grandma, who only snored through the proceedings. Ms. Galvin’s monologue—a work in progress—was a little less successful. But, hey! New voices, new writing, these are all things to be supported.

All in all, a nice exploration of what's out there while broadening my horizons.

ConcertMeister

Thursday, January 18, 2018

American Encounters: L.A. Story (1/6/18)

Brinton Averil Smith, cello; Evelyn Chen, Piano

Alt Wien (Triakontameron, No. 11) – Leopold Godowsky (1870–1938)
(arr. Heifetz)
Serenade, Op. 3 No. 5 – Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873–1943) (arr. Smith)
Berceuse from L’oiseau de ferIgor Stravinsky (1882–1971) (arr. Dushkin)
Saget mir auf welchem Pfade, Op. 15, No. 5 – Arnold Schoenberg
(1874–1951)
Stimmung, Op. 32, No. 1 – Joseph Achron (1886–1943)
Three Impromptus for Unaccompanied String Instruments, Op. 90c –
I. Andante cantabile; II. Allegretto grazioso; III. Adagio, con espressione – Ernst Toch (1887–1964)
Recueil de mazurkas (a Albert Roussel) – II. Moderato–Piu lento–Tempo primo – Alexandre Tansman (1897–1986)
Jazzettes, Op. 26, No. 3 – Louis Gruenberg (1884–1964)
I Nottambuli, Op. 47 – Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco (1895–1968)
Toccata capricciosa, Op. 36 – Miklós Rózsa (1907–1995)
Four Pieces from Much Ado About Nothing, Op. 11 – Maiden in the Bridal Chamber; Holzapfel und Schlehwein (March of the Watch); Garden Scene; Masquerade – Erich Wolfgang Korngold (1897– 1957)
Prelude, Op. 23, No. 2 – Rachmaninoff
Carmen FantasieFranz Waxman (1906– 1967)

This was a concert by composers in L.A.—though not necessarily of/from L.A—who wrote for the movies while living in L.A. These works, however, were not actually used in film scores (that I’m aware of). It was a bit of a loose concept. There were mostly duets but a few solos as well. As a note, Mr. Smith played from memory throughout while Ms. Chen (his wife) played from a score for the most part.

Alt Wien was a sweet, lilting waltz though not overly sweet. Rachmaninoff’s Serenade had an interesting intro, a theme with a slight Spanish flair, and then finished with a flourish. Stravinsky’s Firebird theme was very recognizable, a simple and effective tune and accompaniment that then branched out into repetitions with touches of flights of fancy. I likened it to Bolero, only more interesting. I wish they had grouped these pieces together the way I just did because it was a little tedious having audience applause after every individual work.

Not surprisingly, Schoenberg’s work made a move into more modern and slightly atonal phrases and harmonies. It never made it to harsh, and it was a fairly brief piece. Stimmung was a bit more lively but still had that somewhat plaintive sound that is often associated with cello music.

The three impromptus of Achron were solo cello pieces that were modern again, with hints of jazz. They had an impish quality that I liked. A piano solo followed that was very melodic with an almost Romantic feel to it, even with forays into a few more modern harmonies. A solo cello piece followed. It was expressive and explored the full range of the cello but it was not really my favorite. I Nottambuli was a bit of a mood piece at the beginning, with evocative vignettes strung together that were pleasant, if a bit rambling.

Rózsa’s Toccata for solo cello opened the second half of the concert and was very modern, with bowing, plucking, and double stops that lent it a rather harsh edge. Of the four Korngold pieces, the first was songlike, pretty, and pleasant while the second was dramatic and effective, martial with a few rhythmic twists thrown in periodically. The third was lyrical and lovely—you could imagine love in the air in the garden. The fourth was brisk, almost like a dance run amok but in a fun way.

Ms. Chen showed her mettle with a showpiece for piano. The Rachmaninoff Prelude was very fast and powerful, with many, many notes. The Carmen Fantasie had a bit of a back story. It was written for violin and piano and was here transmuted to cello and played here for the first time. It hit all of the highlights but I fear something was lost in translation. Kudos, though, for the Smith/Chen duo for giving it a go. The de riguer encore was Gershwin's It Ain't Necessarily So.


Saturday, January 13, 2018

Gilmore Artist Award Winner Concert (1/4/18)

Igor Levit, piano
Chaconne in D minorJohann Sebastian Bach (transcribed for left hand alone by Johannes Brahms)
Piano Sonata No. 14 in C# minor – Adagio sostenuto; Allegretto; Presto agitato – Ludwig van Beethoven

This was a free concert presented by WQXR in their Jerome L. Greene performance space. On a personal note, this was the first time I’d been in the space two days in a row, as Midday Masterpieces occurred on January 3. The Gilmore Artist Award is a once-in-every-four-years award to a pianist and includes a $300,000 prize with $250,000 of that to be used for career development. We learned, during a discussion portion of the evening, that the winner does not know ahead of time that he or she is even being considered for the award. A committee attends various concerts and performances of various pianists around the world, then comes up with a short list, and finally announces the award in late December.

The Chaconne was very interesting in that it is originally the fifth and final movement of Bach’s Partita for Violin No. 2, written for solo violin. The Brahms version presented the piece, written in the form of variations, as was the original, in a way that was quite fun to see. As noted, the left hand is the only one that plays any notes on the piano but that right hand does not just sit idly by. In this case, it was very expressive, at times looking like it really wanted in on the action but knowing that it had to remain silent. The variations were fairly easy to follow although they were sometimes slightly disjointed, since the left hand had to explore so much of the range of the keyboard.

The first movement of the Beethoven is famous. Trust me, you’ve heard it before. The work is nicknamed the “Moonlight” Sonata. Figured it out yet? It takes a lovely theme and spins it out in a very dreamlike fashion. It’s just fun to sit back and listen to it, so that’s exactly what I did. The second movement was more playful and fuller in terms of volume and presence, though there was still an air of simplicity to it. The third movement is off to the races from the very beginning, with many notes and fingers flying. Even through the bombast, though, there was still that feeling of underlying simplicity there.

As an encore, Mr. Levit played a jazz version of the Pete Seeger union song Which Side Are You On? in a fun performance. A big thank you to WQXR for allowing me to hear a world-class, award-winning pianist in person, for free. There’s a lot of stuff out there, folks. Explore!

ConcertMeister

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Midday Masterpieces (1/3/2018)

Tristan Teo, piano

Variations on a Theme of Corelli, Op. 42 (1931) – Sergei Rachmaninoff (1873–1943)
Piano Sonata in B Minor, S. 178 (1853) – Franz Liszt (1811–1886)

Big breath. The Variations have a theme and then twenty variations, with an intermezzo tossed in between Variations 13 and 14, so you’re not getting variation names. By the way, the theme La Folia isn’t actually by Corelli, though he used it in 1700 as the basis for his violin and continuo sonata. And the Liszt Sonata has three movements (well, maybe four, but possibly only one), so you’re not getting movement names there, either. Mr. Teo played both works from memory, and in fact gave us a little insight into Liszt’s life at the time of composing his work. Liszt felt strongly that all pianists should memorize the scores, and Liszt did, so Mr. Teo felt that he really had to. On to the music.

The Rachmaninoff opened with a gentle rendition of the theme which was then, for the most part, recognizable from variation to variation. The first was rippling and seemed to have hints of jazz riffs. The variations that followed were charming, à la Russe (with touches of the Orient), bell tones with a widening range, and bold and fiery. We then went on to bolder still, with perpetual motion in the right hand, misterioso, chorale-like (almost as though an organist were improvising), a scherzo, and then a strong extension of the scherzo. One had more modern harmonies and one had expanded musical ideas and harmonies. There was another chorale, then a modern music box–style variation, and several forte, powerful variations before finishing with a slightly dreamy coda. It was a fun piece to listen to and the varied variations made it very interesting, as did Mr. Teo’s performance.

Before beginning the Liszt, Mr. Teo gave a brief demo of the three main motifs for Faust, the Devil, and God. I must confess that I was not really totally aware of their recurrences during the thirty-minute work which, if it really did have different movements, was played straight through. The piece was at times dramatic, theatrical, and symphonic in style, though it also had a lovely lyrical stretch that put me in the mindset of good cheer. It then returned us to drama, alternating back and forth. I finally just gave in and sat there listening, and enjoying the pianistic flair that is so often associated with Liszt.

In addition to playing with a sense of confidence, Mr. Teo also had a very natural, confident style when engaging with and speaking to the audience, the more so since he’s all of twenty years old. A well-balanced program presented succinctly, clearly, and very enjoyably. What a great way to start off ConcertMeister’s new year. And thank you to WQXR and The Juilliard School for continuing this terrific series. Here’s to lots and lots of great music in 2018!

ConcertMeister

Monday, January 1, 2018

Return of the Silents (12/9/17)

Films about film from The Silent Clowns Film Series. Behind the Screen (1916) starring (and written and directed by) Charlie Chaplin; The Cameraman (1928) starring Buster Keaton

OK, imagine starring in a silent movie. That you wrote. And directed. In 1916! Hello, Charlie Chaplin. As a non-acting member of a fictional film company, Chaplin had some very funny bits involving moving scenery pieces around. Including ladders. And columns. And a pie fight (I’m not making this up, you know!). And Edna Purviance had to dress in drag (as a man! in 1916!) just to get a job on the set. There were laugh-out-loud moments (I did) among other really humorous sight gags. Did I mention the trap door? It features quite prominently, even in one of the pie fight scenes. Oh, I didn’t mention the pie fight? And that was the short.

The feature featured Buster Keaton in The Cameraman. Keaton, a street still photographer, attempts to become a film photographer, to woo Marceline Day, who works at MGM. (Hmmm, political a bit?) After spending all his dough on a movie camera, he attempts to out-scoop the regulars, including a beau from the MGM office. He does! With a scoop of a Chinatown massacre. Unfortunately, the monkey who has attached himself to Keaton (don’t ask—it’s a Hollywood comedy in the late silent era) manages to mess things up. In another twist of fate, Keaton manages to save the life of Ms. Day from a boat run amok, while her other beau from the office is really responsible for the accident. The monkey’s antics have also filmed this and saved the film of the Chinatown massacre (I’m really not making this up you know!), so Keaton gets a job and gets the girl. Oh, he also broke the glass in the company door three times (I am not making this up, you know!).

Ben Model provided accompaniment, as usual, but not on the Steinway grand, as usual. This time he decided to use a two-manual synthesizer that used actual digital samples of theater organs. In layman’s terms, he was able to create presets (a combination of stops to use at certain times) and also use specific stops for specific effects. One that he demonstrated was the tibia (I am not making this up, you know!) which is essentially that soap opera {{{gasp}}} sound—aahhhh! Throughout, his improvised accompaniments were spot-on, and he worked tirelessly throughout the two films. And earned a well-deserved extended round of applause at the end.

ConcertMeister