Con Brio Ensemble – 2/16/13

This is my second time hearing this ensemble. In checking my posts, I actually heard these three performers, as well. They were Diana Mittler-Battipaglia, piano; Hamilton Berry, cello; and Paul Roczek, violin.

The Program

Fantasy Pieces opus 73 for Cello and Piano (1849), Robert Schumann (1810–1856)
Zart und mit Ausdruck (delicately with expression), Lebhaft, leicht (lively and lightly), Rasch und mit Feuer (fast with fire)

Sonata in A Major for Violin and Piano (1886), César Franck (1822–1890)
Allegretto ben moderato, Allegro, Recitativo-Fantasia, Allegretto poco mosso

Trio on G major opus 3 (1911), Franz Mittler (1893–1970)
Allegro molto appassionato, Scherzo-Allegro, Andante, Allegro vivace

The entire afternoon was enjoyable but I must say that I really enjoyed the Schumann.
Mr. Berry (and Ms. Mittler-Battipaglia) played superbly. The movements were rich in tone and scope, with very nice interplay. There was a playful section in the second movement, with the third movement quite rapid, still beautiful, and still spirited, even when the tempo slowed slightly. This was A+ in my book—the piece itself and especially Mr. Berry’s playing.

I was not quite as taken with the Franck. Compositionally, there was more separation in the writing, with violin and piano and then separate phrases for piano only. Some of the chordal sections in the piano accompaniment reminded me of what my best friend in the entire world used to describe as “creepy-crawly French chords,” reminiscent of Franck’s history as a composer-organist. The third movement (and especially the fourth) brought recognizable tunes—indeed, the fourth movement is almost a “warhorse” candidate.

The Mittler trio was quite nice. Given the opus number and date of composition, we see that this was the early work of an 18-year-old. While not particularly sophisticated, it was fine, compositionally. I liked the second movement, with its lively opening, contrasting section and then a return to the opening themes. This movement (and the third) could be presented as stand-alone movements, in my opinion. That goes without saying for the final movement of the Franck, as well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYlKi1n-n-8

I’d want to hear the Schumann in its entirety any time I heard it. Did I mention that I liked the Schumann?

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Live from Lincoln Center

“What is this?” you say?

But, Concertmeister, you provide commentary on free, or low-cost, NYC concerts. True. And that’s what Live from Lincoln Center is—the best NYC has to offer, for free (check your local PBS listings—it may be re-broadcast).

A tribute to Kander & Ebb, hosted by Rob Fisher* at the piano, with Marin Mazzie, Chita Rivera, Joel Grey, and Jason Danieley. Not a bad crowd.

We were spared “New York, New York,” but we were treated to numbers from Flora, the Red Menace, The Rink, Cabaret, Chicago and others. Having performed in both Chicago* (on three different occasions) and Cabaret* (twice), they were of special warm-and-fuzzies to me. Mr. Grey, in the opening from Cabaret, was a joy to behold. But so was his rendition of “Mr. Cellophane,” from Chicago and “Married,” from Cabaret. Ms. Rivera (whiskey-baritone and all) was great in “All That Jazz” and “Class,” both from Chicago. And, really, as far as lyrics go, you gotta love these rhymes—“Ev’rybody you watch … s’got his brains in his crotch—what became of Class?”

Mr. Danieley was superb throughout, and Ms. Mazzie really came through with “Ring Those Bells.”

A great tribute and a great Live from Lincoln Center production!

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*Additional info available on request.

Carnegie Neighborhood Concert Redux

Alison King, soprano; Carrie-Ann Matheson, piano

The program: Here amid the shady woods, from Balus; O sleep, why dost thou leave me, from Semele; Tornami a vagheggiar, from Alcina – George Frideric Handel, (1685–1759); Der Hirt auf dem Felsen, Franz Schubert (1797–1828); Shéhérazade, Asie, La flute enchantée, L’indifferént, Maurice Ravel (1878–1937); Selections from Chants d’Auvergne, Joseph Canteloube (1879–1957).

So far, we have a pretty straightforward song recital. And it begins that way, as well. The first two Handel arias are from what I consider to be early opera—light, clear vocal lines and light, clear accompaniment. Accompaniment, yes—vocal lines, a little less so.

I am not here to write a review, but my take on the vocal performance is my take. Ms. King’s approach, to these ears, seemed a little too harsh (I tried thinking of different words but this is what I came up with). The pitch seemed to suffer a bit, maybe from overforcing.

Her technique in the third Handel piece was self-evident and fine (if a little too prominent).

The Schubert was a lovely piece, with the addition of clarinetist Jessica Phillips. Throughout, Ms. Matheson was a supportive, and equal, partner.

After the intermission we had the Ravel, and Ms. King seemed a bit more relaxed—as did her voice.

Interestingly (history lesson here), Ms. King’s English translations of Chants d’Auvergne, by Sheldon Harnick, were a world premiere. Marilyn Horne, who was at the concert and spoke to the us at the intermission, informed us that Mr. Harnick had presented these lyrics to
Ms. Horne some years ago (and I’m being generous) but she never got around to using them. Ms. King did—and they are quite lovely. On top of that, they were written for Julie Andrews, who also never got around to using them!

On top of that, I saw Sheldon Harnick at my last Carnegie Neighborhood Concert. Is this a great city or what?!?

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Carnegie Hall Concerts—Community Sing

This was my second Community Sing and boy, am I glad I went. This one was “The People Sing with the Broadway All-Star Voices,” and did we ever. There were some sing-alongs—we started with “Let the Sunshine In” (from Hair), which we learned part-by-part (soprano, alto, TENOR, bass). After instruction, we were expected to remember it all! Some did.

This was followed by “Do-Re-Mi.” Okay, who can’t sing along with that? It tells you what to do! Next there was “To Life,” from Fiddler on the Roof—sounds crazy, no? This was a little iffy, since we didn’t have lyrics in front of us. But, oh! the next one. “Sunrise, Sunset,” introduced by Sheldon Harnick.  What an unassuming genius. This would have been worth the price of admission alone—but it was free! I love seeing living legends, and this was one more great example. And yes, Sheldon, the song still moves people to tears.

But, hey! This was a community sing. We did Rodgers & Hammerstein, we heard Kander & Ebb, we heard Sondheim. We sang portions of Rent (“Seasons of Love”) and “The People’s Song” (Les Miz—though the fast lyrics left a lot of us in the dust).

Then, in a bold move, we tackled the “Tonight” quintet from West Side Story. Kudos have to be given here to Leslie Stifelman (music director of Chicago) and Thomas Cabaniss, our host for the afternoon.

They taught us (the audience) the basics of that quintet and then threw us into the fire—what a great experience! The last time I sang Tony was with the Alabama Symphony (mumble-mumble-years-ago). The pipes were rusty, but they still worked!

I skipped out on the “New York, New York” finale. ConcertMeister tries to maintain some sense of decorum.

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The Crossroads of the Soul—or “L’Histoire du Soldat” Plus Four

Stravinsky’s “L’Histoire du Soldat” is one of those pieces that I know about—maybe have heard a snippet of—but don’t really know. I do know that this was my first time hearing the entire work; hearing it live was a big plus. Speaking of plus, before we got to “L’Histoire,” we had a four-piece prelude.

The concert started with three brief piano pieces and one piano/violin piece. These were thoroughly connected to each other according to the 32 pages of program notes (that I did not read all of).

The Program

Legenda, No. 6 from Desiat’ P’es, Opus 13 (1913), Sergei Prokofiev (1891–1953)
Prelude, from Pour le Piano (1901), Claude Debussy (1862–1918)
Prelude No. 2, from Cinq Preludes, Opus 74, 1915, Alexander Scriabin (1871/2–1915)
Louange à l’immotalité de Jésus, from Quatuor pour la fins du temps (1941), Olivier Messiaen (1908–1992)

L’Histoire du Soldat (1918), Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971) and Charles-Ferdinand Ramuz
(1878–1947)

(whew!)

First, the Prokofiev was a bit subdued (somewhat odd for a concert opener). The Debussy that followed was more fiery and had some characteristic Debussy flourishes—many arpeggios that sounded like a wash of impressionistic sounds (though that was a term that Debussy did not particularly like)—plus some nice sections with block chords; thick sounds that had some heft.

To me, the Scriabin was a bit meandering, and the piece itself was very brief. The Messiaen seemed slightly disjointed—the piano and violin seemed quite independent of each other. And the violin was either playing microtones (just off the pitch) or just off the pitch.

Mary Bopp was the pianist, with Sharon Gunderson as the violinist, who also played in the Stravinsky.

L’Histoire—it was designed as a theater piece for septet, dancers, narrator, and actors. Originally, there were two (or three) actors, narrator, and a principal dancer, plus additional dancers. We got the version with septet and narrator.

The cast: Sharon Gunderson, violin; Wayne Britton, narrator; Lisa Stokes Chin, double bass; Mitch Kriegler, clarinet; Daniel Hane, bassoon; Sandra Coffin, cornet (though it looked like a trumpet to me—must do some research); Mark Broschinsky, trombone; Jay O’Brien, percussion; with John Tarbet conducting.

All played very well and Mr. Tarbet led a very tight ensemble. L’Histoire is probably best described as a morality play, where the protagonist never quite understands the moral. Our soldier makes a deal with the devil, then complains that he didn’t understand the deal. He’d been duped! He gets a second chance and agrees to the new terms. When he breaks the terms of the new contract, he loses all over again. I’m not sure what the moral is, but our soldier definitely loses out.

Stravinsky’s music throughout is very spiky and hard driven rhythmically, just like other ballet scores including Petrouchka and Rite of Spring. The chamber ensemble quality was very interesting—each of the instrumentalists got a chance to shine and there were interesting smaller groupings as well. The percussionist was practically a dancer himself, dealing with shifting rhythms, different drumsticks (including soft-headed sticks) and muffled tambourines plus playing the triangle. Just keeping track of which sticks to use and where they were was a ballet in and of itself.

The narrator did a fine job—including delineated characters—though projecting over the full ensemble was a bit problematic a couple of times. And maybe it was the translation, but it sounded a little Dr. Seuss-y to me at times. I’ll definitely explore a few different recordings. So happy I heard a (for me) first hearing of L’Histoire.

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The Yeomen of the Guard

This one was a bit bittersweet for me. This operetta (for want of a better word) is one of the lesser-known in the Gilbert & Sullivan canon. I did a production of it many, many years ago, so those memories colored my view of this performance. I saw the New York Gilbert & Sullivan Players at City Center (a beautiful theater) in NYC. I bought a cheap ticket since I was more concerned with hearing the score than seeing and evaluating the entire production.

I was not let down. While my seat had a partially obstructed view, I was able to hear everything just fine.

When I did the show, our “orchestra” was a piano, electric organ, and tympani. This production had a small, but real, orchestra. Our production skipped the overture and substituted an Act II madrigal—“Strange Adventure.” Not a bad trade-off, but hearing the overture live was really great.

The company, while employing quite a few professional actors/singers was a little heavy-handed in the acting category. And I found some of the shift from spoken dialogue into sung sections a little off-putting.

The score doesn’t have any big G&S hits but it did have the requisite trios, ballads, patter songs, double choruses, etc. that you’d expect from a Sullivan score. Hearing them fully orchestrated was a real treat for me. And the vocalists were quite good across the board.

I don’t know the full story behind the NYGASP (as they call themselves) crowd but it seems a bit collegial in that they’re a bunch that have a bit of history, yet a bit of ingrown history, too. Still, the one major set was done quite well, costumes were for the most part executed well (there were a few unfortunate “pumpkin pants” shorts—think Sir Walter Raleigh—that ended up looking a little more like culottes/hot pants on a couple of the male characters), and lighting and sound were done pretty well, too.

All in all, a slightly more expensive concert than is usual for me, but one that I really wanted to experience, and I’m glad that I did.

ConcertMeister

Here's a version of "Strange Adventure": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gsOBcnelPVU

From Beethoven to Barber—Sort of

The pianist was Benjamin Bradham, who I have heard before. The program:

Sonata in g minor (K.461), Sonata in B-flat major (K.545), Domenico Scarlatti (1685–1757);
Sonata in d minor, Op. 31, No. 2, Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827), Largo; Allegro – Adagio – Allegretto; Fantasy in f minor, Op. 49, Frédéric Chopin (1810–1849)

Intermission
Reflections in the Water, Ondine, Claude Debussy (1810–1918); Funeral March, Chopin

Which brings us to “Sort of.” The concert was to have ended with the Barber Sonata in e-flat minor. An announcement at the beginning of the program provided a bit of unintended humor—due to Mr. Bradham being a bit under the weather, the Funeral March replaced the Barber.

First, Mr. Bradham played very well throughout. There may have been a few dropped notes in the Chopin pieces (but there are thousands!) but the entire program was well played and well received. Negatives first: there was a specific announcement made to turn off all electronic devices, yet one phone and one beeper (watch timer?) went off during the concert. Turn them off, even after intermission. I feel good about saying this, since I don’t have a cell phone/beeper/electronic device.

Positives: Since the program ran in a chronological format, the Scarlatti pieces were a bit more simple that the rest. The first Sonata had some exploratory phrases followed by more fully realized phrases. My notes for the second Sonata include: more explosive, still mostly two lines, syncopation more fully realized in a very brief composition.

The Beethoven was much more expansive, opening with rolled chords (involving more use of the pedals to sustain the sound). This was followed by rapid passage work that was reminiscent of the Scarlatti—but with more depth of harmonies. The middle movement had chords, with filigree sections and a slightly disjointed compositional style, but with beautiful phrases. The piece finished with arpeggiated, though tuneful, phrases.

Chopin—this is a familiar piece (Google/youtube it—I’m a Yahoo! guy myself). My best friend ever called this the “Itsy-Bitsy-Spider” piece because of a prominent four-phrase segment in the middle. Overall, including “Itsy-Bitsy," there are fireworks passages plus a chorale-like section. (This is one piece where it seemed that a few of Chopin’s thousands of notes might have been dropped.)

The Debussy pieces entailed what I call a wash of sound. As in, the use of the pedal keeps the sounds in the air for a longer period of time. It’s similar to the wash of Impressionist colors in paintings, though the composers claimed not to be Impressionists. The second Debussy piece had many arpeggios plus some more angular/spiky phrases and a few bursts of sound.

The aforementioned Chopin Funeral March was basically in four sections, with the third being the famous “pray… for… the… dead …”, but the other sections were filled with the muscular bombast of Chopin.

All in all, a wonderful program (played entirely from memory) by a very gifted pianist. I am a lucky fellow to hear such great music for free via the New York Public Library system. Go out and explore, folks!

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