The Knights – Colin & Eric Jacobsen, Artistic Directors; Eric Jacobsen, Conductor
What is the Grass? – Colin Jacobsen (1978–); Kristina Nicole Miller, Narrator
Lachrymae, Op. 48a (1950, orch. 1976) – Benjamin Britten (1913–1976); Nicholas Cords, Viola
Letters from God – Eric Jacobsen (1982–), arr. Kyle Sanna/C. Jacobsen; Ms. Miller, Narrator
Immense have been the Preparations – Kyle Sanna (1975–), arr. C. Jacobsen; Ms. Miller, Narrator
Fictional Migration (Solo Flute and Horn with strings) – Lisa Bielawa (1968–), (World Premiere Arr.); Alex Sopp, Flute; Michael Atkinson, Horn
String Octet, Op. 20 (1825) – I. Allegro moderato ma con fuoco (E-flat major); II. Andante (C minor); III. Scherzo: Allegro leggierissimo (G minor); IV. Presto (E-flat major) – Felix Mendelssohn (1809–1847)
New season (114th!), different venue. The Naumburg Bandshell is undergoing renovations this summer, so the concert series is being performed indoors at Temple Emanu-El. The good news is that there will be no rainouts this season. The not-so-good news is that the spirit and camaraderie (and eating & drinking!) that takes place in the outdoor venue cannot really be re-created indoors.
As can be seen from the birth dates of the composers, the first half of the concert was more modern than the second. What is Grass? had the aforementioned narration with interesting music as a background. The spare, open scoring reminded me of Copland, and the end of the piece segued directly into Lachrymae, which was richer and fuller. The viola was featured but was not overpowering. A note about the particular viola played by Mr. Cords—it is a 400-year-old Amati instrument on loan to him, and has a beautiful, rich tone. There was a second variation in which the viola sang out a little more followed by a pizzicato variation that also included some smoother, legato lines. The piece had a darker and more dramatic section contrasted with a calmer and almost sweet section, ending with a spikier section that went on a bit too long for me.
Similar to the first two pieces, the three that followed also dovetailed together in one relatively large section. Letters from God had what seemed to be a vamp and repeated rhythmic snippets of phrases, while Immense have been the Preparations had a sung narration and a humming chorus of instrumentalists. It was chant like, but modern chant with hints of modern gospel. Fictional Migration began with solo narration followed by solo piccolo, imitating fictitious bird calls. Then strings were added and finally the horn was added. At one point the piccolo was switched out for the flute, and the piece had slightly chaotic background sounds. I thought the piece was okay but it did not really make a strong statement for me.
After intermission the eight players came out for the Mendelssohn. They played standing (the four violins and two violas), though the two cellists sat. The first movement was gentle and pleasant yet with a slight effervescence thrown into the mix. It was bright and fun while also being a bit serious, too. The second was more sedate, but touches of drama showed up as well. The third movement was brisk, with some typically Mendelssohnian spirit, and it somehow glided right into the final movement, which was also spirited though it seemed to go on a bit too long. I wanted to like the piece a little more than I actually did. But that’s only a minor quibble, and the entire concert was a great kickoff to the 114th season. And the rest of the season looks pretty darn good as well.
ConcertMeister
Friday, June 28, 2019
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Charles Jones, Piano (6/15/19)
Partita No. 5 in G Major – J.S. Bach (1685–1750)
Sonata No. 1, Op. 22 – Allegro marcato; Presto misterioso; Adagio molto appassianato; Ruvido ed ostinato – Ginastera (1916–1983)
Carnaval, Op. 9 – Schumann (1810–1856)
Mr. Jones played the Bach from the score, assisted by a page turner. If memory serves, I think it’s the only time I’ve seen him play from a score. The piece is a Praembulum followed by six movements named for dances. My free-form notes include: Bright and fun; a dance, but a little subdued; quite brisk, with odd repeats in the middle; another gentle dance; a rather disjointed minuet, also with odd internal repeats; a little more rhythmic and complicated; and sharp and crisp, fully rounding out the piece.
The two pieces that followed were played from memory. The Ginastera (first name, Alberto, in case you’re interested) had a first movement that was brash and rhythmic, rangy on the keyboard, and clangorous at times, though I didn’t mind that. The second was quieter but still with plenty of movement, and very interesting to hear. The third movement opened with only the left hand being used and then an explosion from the right hand, and was quite intriguing. The final movement was very rhythmic and brisk, drawing the listener in by the sheer energy involved. I think it was my favorite piece on the program.
Carnaval. I’ve heard the work once before and didn’t quite understand it. [Note: This, from a 10/3/17 CM post: 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.] This time around, the twenty movements were listed but I will not recount them by name here. Also as a result of the piece being twenty brief movements, my notes are in a free-form style again. Strong chords to open, with a somewhat martial tune; a little dark, mystical; more explosive and brighter [PHONE!]; sweet waltz, though not cloying; calmer; energetic, with a few touches of calmer contrast; brighter and chirpy; a transition piece, shifting the mood; frantic butterflies? (indeed, I was right; in reading about the piece after the fact, I learned that Schumann quoted one of his own works, Papillons); almost frenetic; movements blurring together. A word about that blurring together—since these were brief movements, it was sometimes hard to know whether some of the movements were elided together. Also, Mr. Jones has a sort of quirk where he pauses between movements and blots his face and forehead with a handkerchief. It’s not really annoying, but you never know when it might happen. Adding to some of my confusion is that the nineteenth movement is called Pause, but I didn’t know whether it was an actual movement or a directive to pause (it was an actual movement). From a technique standpoint, the work is challenging and it was very well played (as it was on 10/3/17). But I still don’t quite get it. Maybe someday I will.
ConcertMeister
Sonata No. 1, Op. 22 – Allegro marcato; Presto misterioso; Adagio molto appassianato; Ruvido ed ostinato – Ginastera (1916–1983)
Carnaval, Op. 9 – Schumann (1810–1856)
Mr. Jones played the Bach from the score, assisted by a page turner. If memory serves, I think it’s the only time I’ve seen him play from a score. The piece is a Praembulum followed by six movements named for dances. My free-form notes include: Bright and fun; a dance, but a little subdued; quite brisk, with odd repeats in the middle; another gentle dance; a rather disjointed minuet, also with odd internal repeats; a little more rhythmic and complicated; and sharp and crisp, fully rounding out the piece.
The two pieces that followed were played from memory. The Ginastera (first name, Alberto, in case you’re interested) had a first movement that was brash and rhythmic, rangy on the keyboard, and clangorous at times, though I didn’t mind that. The second was quieter but still with plenty of movement, and very interesting to hear. The third movement opened with only the left hand being used and then an explosion from the right hand, and was quite intriguing. The final movement was very rhythmic and brisk, drawing the listener in by the sheer energy involved. I think it was my favorite piece on the program.
Carnaval. I’ve heard the work once before and didn’t quite understand it. [Note: This, from a 10/3/17 CM post: 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.] This time around, the twenty movements were listed but I will not recount them by name here. Also as a result of the piece being twenty brief movements, my notes are in a free-form style again. Strong chords to open, with a somewhat martial tune; a little dark, mystical; more explosive and brighter [PHONE!]; sweet waltz, though not cloying; calmer; energetic, with a few touches of calmer contrast; brighter and chirpy; a transition piece, shifting the mood; frantic butterflies? (indeed, I was right; in reading about the piece after the fact, I learned that Schumann quoted one of his own works, Papillons); almost frenetic; movements blurring together. A word about that blurring together—since these were brief movements, it was sometimes hard to know whether some of the movements were elided together. Also, Mr. Jones has a sort of quirk where he pauses between movements and blots his face and forehead with a handkerchief. It’s not really annoying, but you never know when it might happen. Adding to some of my confusion is that the nineteenth movement is called Pause, but I didn’t know whether it was an actual movement or a directive to pause (it was an actual movement). From a technique standpoint, the work is challenging and it was very well played (as it was on 10/3/17). But I still don’t quite get it. Maybe someday I will.
ConcertMeister
Friday, June 21, 2019
The American Mime Theatre (6/13/19)
Jean Callovini Barbour, Mario Brufau, Eris Cabello, Zane Garcia, Julia Malinovskaya, Olya Mikhaylova, Ryan Molloy, Michael Whitten
American mime differs from other styles of mime. It is based on certain procedures that are studied in class and then adapted into performance pieces. It is similar to other versions in that there is no dialogue. Sounds, yes; dialogue, no. More about that later.
Music Box had three couples (one on a box) interacting as couples with movements that were similar, though not exact, for all three couples. It was set to music from a traditional music box. We saw the ritualistic offer of flowers, the ritualistic kiss, and the ritualistic rebuff. It was both humorous and fun.
Welcome – Meet the Company, led by Ms. Barbour, who is the director of the company, introduced us to the main players. Demonstration of Selected Training Methods was just that. There were twelve separate Class Procedures listed in the printed program, and this set in the performance that I saw explored Technique, Moving to Words, Characterization, and Interplay. If memory serves, one of the four included a squeak (from a shoe, I believe) and the reaction of company members to the sounds.
Hurly-Burly had three named characters: Compulsive, Boor, and Hypochondriac. Three men, posed together on an open box/cube as a set piece, interacted with each other, incorporating nose grabs, slaps, pushes, and shoves, among others. At one point (or several, actually) a hiccup was involved. They eventually lost their balance and all three were off the box. Realizing that they were sort of like fish out of water, they resumed their positions on the box, and the work concluded.
An excerpt from Dreams was set to an electronic score, and had the Dreamer, his Alter Ego, and five Figments. It was interesting to see a group piece that was not quite as limiting as the first piece with the three couples. And having an Alter Ego allowed for one character to approach the same scene in two different ways.
Six had six Strangers, used eight chairs as a set, and had props that included a paper bag (which was also a sound element) and a cloth held and manipulated by one of the characters. The six seemed to be totally insular until a few interactions began. Sound elements here were a hiccup, a cough, laughter, crying, and speaking (if it can be called that—it was sort of like a nonsense language). There were some humorous touches that included touching, blowing on someone’s hair, reactions to the laughter and the crying, and reactions to the nonsensical language. The eight chairs were needed for the six characters because some of the characters moved about, in order to avoid one another or to try to join one another.
This was totally different from any other program I’ve seen at the Library for the Performing Arts, and I am so lucky to have these varied programs so readily available. It’s fun to go exploring and to have new experiences. This one was particularly enjoyable.
ConcertMeister
American mime differs from other styles of mime. It is based on certain procedures that are studied in class and then adapted into performance pieces. It is similar to other versions in that there is no dialogue. Sounds, yes; dialogue, no. More about that later.
Music Box had three couples (one on a box) interacting as couples with movements that were similar, though not exact, for all three couples. It was set to music from a traditional music box. We saw the ritualistic offer of flowers, the ritualistic kiss, and the ritualistic rebuff. It was both humorous and fun.
Welcome – Meet the Company, led by Ms. Barbour, who is the director of the company, introduced us to the main players. Demonstration of Selected Training Methods was just that. There were twelve separate Class Procedures listed in the printed program, and this set in the performance that I saw explored Technique, Moving to Words, Characterization, and Interplay. If memory serves, one of the four included a squeak (from a shoe, I believe) and the reaction of company members to the sounds.
Hurly-Burly had three named characters: Compulsive, Boor, and Hypochondriac. Three men, posed together on an open box/cube as a set piece, interacted with each other, incorporating nose grabs, slaps, pushes, and shoves, among others. At one point (or several, actually) a hiccup was involved. They eventually lost their balance and all three were off the box. Realizing that they were sort of like fish out of water, they resumed their positions on the box, and the work concluded.
An excerpt from Dreams was set to an electronic score, and had the Dreamer, his Alter Ego, and five Figments. It was interesting to see a group piece that was not quite as limiting as the first piece with the three couples. And having an Alter Ego allowed for one character to approach the same scene in two different ways.
Six had six Strangers, used eight chairs as a set, and had props that included a paper bag (which was also a sound element) and a cloth held and manipulated by one of the characters. The six seemed to be totally insular until a few interactions began. Sound elements here were a hiccup, a cough, laughter, crying, and speaking (if it can be called that—it was sort of like a nonsense language). There were some humorous touches that included touching, blowing on someone’s hair, reactions to the laughter and the crying, and reactions to the nonsensical language. The eight chairs were needed for the six characters because some of the characters moved about, in order to avoid one another or to try to join one another.
This was totally different from any other program I’ve seen at the Library for the Performing Arts, and I am so lucky to have these varied programs so readily available. It’s fun to go exploring and to have new experiences. This one was particularly enjoyable.
ConcertMeister
Friday, June 14, 2019
Odds ’n’ Ends (5/12/19 and 5/30/19)
Sunday, May 12 found me at the Rodeph Sholom Theater Company, seeing their production of As You Like It in a musical adaptation by Shaina Taub. Clocking in with a cast of thirty-eight, the cast will not be listed here (you know who you are!). This was a community theater production like no other that I’ve seen. Minimal, but effective, sets, costumes, props, and lighting, with a quintet heavy on percussion performing the score, and sound design that included body mikes with those annoying (to me) microphones that look like little growths. But I digress. The cast of adults and children all performed well and seemed to be having a really good time to boot. Ms. Taub’s score is quite eclectic and it reminded me a great deal of her adaptation of Twelfth Night that I saw at Shakespeare in the Park last summer. This adaptation was also presented at/for Shakespeare in the Park. Maybe it was the more intimate setting in the basement of Congregation Rodeph Sholom, but I liked Like It better than Twelfth Night. Was I blown away by the performances? No. Did the production have a certain whimsical charm about it? It sure did. I enjoyed myself though I doubt I’d seek out another production of it (nor Twelfth Night for that matter).
Thursday, May 30 found me at my home away from home, Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts, for The Heart and Soul of the Piano, Michael Sellers, piano.
Four Sonatas: C minor, L. 352; C major, L. 104; E major, L. 23; A major, L. 395 – Domenico Scarlatti (1685–1757)
Sonata in E-flat major, Op. 81a “Les Adieux” – I. Adagio-Allegro, II. Andante espressivo, III. Vivacissimamente – Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)
Valse oubliee; Funerailles – Franz Liszt (1811–1886)
Clair de lune, from Suite Bergamasque – Claude Debussy (1860–1918)
Pastourelle; Toccata – Francis Poulenc (1899–1963)
Scherzo; Waltz; Polonaise – Frederic Chopin (1810–1849)
In general, I liked the Scarlatti pieces, and one (the E major) was very familiar to me. If you do a search on it, you might find that it’s familiar to you too. Its familiarity also made it a little bit difficult for me to listen to as this performance seemed to lack a certain grace that I associate with the piece.
The Beethoven continued that sort of style of playing that did not seem to make the music come alive to me, and that carried over into the Liszt, as well. As a result, I didn’t stick around for the Debussy, Poulenc, and Chopin. I just didn’t think I’d enjoy those composers played with a lack of grace, and I wasn’t expecting that they would be any different. I’ll never know, but I trust my instinct.
Oh, well—I know going in to all of these that they might not all work out.
Speaking of live and learn, vivacissimamente was new to me. Here’s how it comes about. Vivace – lively and fast (≈140 beats per minute) --> vivacissimo – very fast and lively --> vivacissimamente – adverb of vivacissimo, ‘very quickly and lively’. Now you know!
ConcertMeister
Thursday, May 30 found me at my home away from home, Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts, for The Heart and Soul of the Piano, Michael Sellers, piano.
Four Sonatas: C minor, L. 352; C major, L. 104; E major, L. 23; A major, L. 395 – Domenico Scarlatti (1685–1757)
Sonata in E-flat major, Op. 81a “Les Adieux” – I. Adagio-Allegro, II. Andante espressivo, III. Vivacissimamente – Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827)
Valse oubliee; Funerailles – Franz Liszt (1811–1886)
Clair de lune, from Suite Bergamasque – Claude Debussy (1860–1918)
Pastourelle; Toccata – Francis Poulenc (1899–1963)
Scherzo; Waltz; Polonaise – Frederic Chopin (1810–1849)
In general, I liked the Scarlatti pieces, and one (the E major) was very familiar to me. If you do a search on it, you might find that it’s familiar to you too. Its familiarity also made it a little bit difficult for me to listen to as this performance seemed to lack a certain grace that I associate with the piece.
The Beethoven continued that sort of style of playing that did not seem to make the music come alive to me, and that carried over into the Liszt, as well. As a result, I didn’t stick around for the Debussy, Poulenc, and Chopin. I just didn’t think I’d enjoy those composers played with a lack of grace, and I wasn’t expecting that they would be any different. I’ll never know, but I trust my instinct.
Oh, well—I know going in to all of these that they might not all work out.
Speaking of live and learn, vivacissimamente was new to me. Here’s how it comes about. Vivace – lively and fast (≈140 beats per minute) --> vivacissimo – very fast and lively --> vivacissimamente – adverb of vivacissimo, ‘very quickly and lively’. Now you know!
ConcertMeister
Wednesday, June 12, 2019
The Silent Clowns Film Series (5/11/19 and 6/8/19)
Buster Keaton in Spite Marriage (1929); Koko’s Conquest (1929) (5/11/19)
Laurel & Hardy in Wrong Again (1929); Big Business (1929); Double Whopper (1929); Bacon Grabbers (1929) (6/8/19)
If you’re seeing a pattern there, you’re on the right track. The Series has a title this time around: 1929 … the Stop of the Silents. Indeed, Spite Marriage was Keaton’s final silent film and Bacon Grabbers was L&H’s final silent.
Interestingly, on the first afternoon, Koko’s Conquest was eight minutes long and Spite Marriage was eighty minutes long. Both were funny and both had the main stars tossed into the ocean—hey, if you find a funny situation, stick with it. The marriage is between Keaton’s character and the leading lady, who he has been mooning after, of a theater company. The spite comes because she is smitten with her onstage leading man and he passes her right on by for a sweeter, younger actress. So the leading lady asks Keaton to marry her. He is thrilled! She soon realizes that she is not. After many situations, trials and tribulations, she eventually realizes that the spite marriage is actually the right marriage. There were lots of funny bits throughout though I can’t remember any specific ones right now. For this particular afternoon, there was a guest pianist, Makia Matsumura, who played very well. Her style was in general smoother and more fluid than what we normally hear on these silent movie afternoons.
Wrong Again was very funny. The premise is that a millionaire has lost Blue Boy. L&H are working at a stable where they are grooming a horse named Blue Boy. When the boys learn of a $5,000 reward, they take it upon themselves to deliver the horse to the millionaire, who speaks to them from an upstairs window (where he cannot see the horse). He tells them to bring it in and put it on the piano. Stan questions this, but Ollie convinces him that the extremely wealthy see things differently than the rest of us do. The hijinks include taking the horse inside, figuring out how to get him up on the grand piano, how to keep him up on the grand piano (even after the front leg breaks off of it), a chase scene where the horse chases Stan and then, later, Ollie, the return of the painting (oh! that Blue Boy!), the millionaire finally realizing the buffoonery of L&H, and the eventual ruining of the painting. Even when you knew what was coming, it was still very funny.
The other three L&H films were also funny, but they didn’t make as strong an impression on me as Blue Boy did. Ben Model supplied the very good (and indefatigable) accompaniments to all four films. Additionally, the afternoon was bookended by Jonathan M. Smith and Bob Greenberg as “Stan and Ollie” and they were also very funny. And to think, I almost didn’t go on June eighth because it was such a nice weather day. I’m glad I did, though. The house was standing room only.
ConcertMeister
Laurel & Hardy in Wrong Again (1929); Big Business (1929); Double Whopper (1929); Bacon Grabbers (1929) (6/8/19)
If you’re seeing a pattern there, you’re on the right track. The Series has a title this time around: 1929 … the Stop of the Silents. Indeed, Spite Marriage was Keaton’s final silent film and Bacon Grabbers was L&H’s final silent.
Interestingly, on the first afternoon, Koko’s Conquest was eight minutes long and Spite Marriage was eighty minutes long. Both were funny and both had the main stars tossed into the ocean—hey, if you find a funny situation, stick with it. The marriage is between Keaton’s character and the leading lady, who he has been mooning after, of a theater company. The spite comes because she is smitten with her onstage leading man and he passes her right on by for a sweeter, younger actress. So the leading lady asks Keaton to marry her. He is thrilled! She soon realizes that she is not. After many situations, trials and tribulations, she eventually realizes that the spite marriage is actually the right marriage. There were lots of funny bits throughout though I can’t remember any specific ones right now. For this particular afternoon, there was a guest pianist, Makia Matsumura, who played very well. Her style was in general smoother and more fluid than what we normally hear on these silent movie afternoons.
Wrong Again was very funny. The premise is that a millionaire has lost Blue Boy. L&H are working at a stable where they are grooming a horse named Blue Boy. When the boys learn of a $5,000 reward, they take it upon themselves to deliver the horse to the millionaire, who speaks to them from an upstairs window (where he cannot see the horse). He tells them to bring it in and put it on the piano. Stan questions this, but Ollie convinces him that the extremely wealthy see things differently than the rest of us do. The hijinks include taking the horse inside, figuring out how to get him up on the grand piano, how to keep him up on the grand piano (even after the front leg breaks off of it), a chase scene where the horse chases Stan and then, later, Ollie, the return of the painting (oh! that Blue Boy!), the millionaire finally realizing the buffoonery of L&H, and the eventual ruining of the painting. Even when you knew what was coming, it was still very funny.
The other three L&H films were also funny, but they didn’t make as strong an impression on me as Blue Boy did. Ben Model supplied the very good (and indefatigable) accompaniments to all four films. Additionally, the afternoon was bookended by Jonathan M. Smith and Bob Greenberg as “Stan and Ollie” and they were also very funny. And to think, I almost didn’t go on June eighth because it was such a nice weather day. I’m glad I did, though. The house was standing room only.
ConcertMeister
Wednesday, June 5, 2019
Songbook (5/20/19)
Featuring the music of Wes Braver and Rachel Dean
The party’s over, it’s time to call it a season. Yes, this was the last Songbook of the current season. If it didn’t exactly go out with a bang, at least it went out with interesting writing and super performances. Don’t get me wrong, though, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Mr. Braver and Ms. Dean write together, they each write individually, and they each write with other collaborators. Most of what we heard was from them as a duo, specifically from a musical they’re currently concentrating on, Medusa. If memory serves (alas, I can’t put my fingers on my scribbled notes from the evening of the performance), there is either a workshop or a reading or an in-development-performance-with-feedback at some point this summer.
Song titles from Medusa include Don’t Look Away, My Fate, Perseus/I See You, You Walk Woman, Sister I Wish, You Run Woman, and The Sea. The Sea seemed like a strange sort of ending for the show (if that’s what it really is), as it kind of petered out to nothingness.
One of the highlights for me was a song from Mr. Braver’s song cycle Space Cases. Apparently he collected real stories dealing with space exploration themes and then linked them together into a cycle. Laika is about a dog sent into space by the Russians. Mr. Braver caught the essence of doglike behavior in a really funny way, in a really funny song. And the gal who sang it did a bang-up job.
In fact, both writers display—how best to say this?—a good dose of quirkiness. Fortunately, it never goes overboard, however. And both can put over a song by themselves from the keyboard. There was a whole lot of talent on the stage from the two of them as well as from the dozen vocalists who volunteered their time and talents, and the four instrumentalists—piano, guitar, bass, and drums.
This was a funfest and a great way to close the book on Songbook, if only for the season. Because they’re already planning on starting up again in September. A big shout out to John Znidarsic, who is the Producer/Director of Songbook, and another big shout out to Cheryl D. Raymond, Manager Public Programs and Special Events at Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts. Sometimes I feel as though LPA is my home away from home—and that’s not a bad thing.
ConcertMeister
The party’s over, it’s time to call it a season. Yes, this was the last Songbook of the current season. If it didn’t exactly go out with a bang, at least it went out with interesting writing and super performances. Don’t get me wrong, though, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Mr. Braver and Ms. Dean write together, they each write individually, and they each write with other collaborators. Most of what we heard was from them as a duo, specifically from a musical they’re currently concentrating on, Medusa. If memory serves (alas, I can’t put my fingers on my scribbled notes from the evening of the performance), there is either a workshop or a reading or an in-development-performance-with-feedback at some point this summer.
Song titles from Medusa include Don’t Look Away, My Fate, Perseus/I See You, You Walk Woman, Sister I Wish, You Run Woman, and The Sea. The Sea seemed like a strange sort of ending for the show (if that’s what it really is), as it kind of petered out to nothingness.
One of the highlights for me was a song from Mr. Braver’s song cycle Space Cases. Apparently he collected real stories dealing with space exploration themes and then linked them together into a cycle. Laika is about a dog sent into space by the Russians. Mr. Braver caught the essence of doglike behavior in a really funny way, in a really funny song. And the gal who sang it did a bang-up job.
In fact, both writers display—how best to say this?—a good dose of quirkiness. Fortunately, it never goes overboard, however. And both can put over a song by themselves from the keyboard. There was a whole lot of talent on the stage from the two of them as well as from the dozen vocalists who volunteered their time and talents, and the four instrumentalists—piano, guitar, bass, and drums.
This was a funfest and a great way to close the book on Songbook, if only for the season. Because they’re already planning on starting up again in September. A big shout out to John Znidarsic, who is the Producer/Director of Songbook, and another big shout out to Cheryl D. Raymond, Manager Public Programs and Special Events at Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts. Sometimes I feel as though LPA is my home away from home—and that’s not a bad thing.
ConcertMeister
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