But two different venues—Brooklyn Center for the Performing Arts at Brooklyn College and LaGuardia Performing Arts Center at LaGuardia Community College. First off, thank you, colleges, for providing such wonderful performance spaces. And college students, take advantage of them!
3/5/17
Ruslan and Lyudmilla Overture (1837–42) – Mikhail Glinka (1804–57)
L’Ascension, Four Meditations for Orchestra (1932–33) – Olivier Messiaen (1908–92)
Symphony No. 4, Op. 36 (1877–78) – Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840–93)
Zachary Schwartzman, conductor
4/2/17
North by Northwest Overture (1959) – Bernard Herrmann (1911–75)
Symphony No. 3 (1938) – Roy Harris (1898–1979)
Symphony No. 1, Low (1992) – Philip Glass (b. 1937)
James Bagwell, conductor
Since this is a two-fer, I’ll do a little less in-depth discussion than usual. On the plus side, both concerts had TON’s trademark Concert Quick Guide, which handily lists the pieces, composers’ dates, info on the premiere of each piece, and the (estimated) length of each piece (more about that later).
The March 5 overture was a solid opening, very brisk, building excitement from the get-go. The Messiaen had modern harmonies that were gentle yet brash at the same time. The second movement had slightly discordant phrases from the winds, sounding sort of mystical. The third was fanfare-like, while the last movement had serene strings to start with, though still with modern harmonies, ending with a literal sense of ascension as the violins played higher and higher in their registers.
The Tchaikovsky had a lengthy first movement with varied themes and sections including a brass fanfare to start with that made several returns. The second movement was a calm respite although it had drama of its own. The third was brisk but a bit subdued because of light pizzicato phrases. The fourth opened with a bang and then just kept on going. After a brief calm section, the fanfare from the first movement was reintroduced, followed by new material to round out the work.
The April 2 overture was more of a pastiche of the themes from the movie North by Northwest worked into a single composition. The mix of themes included phrases in 3/4 time as well as 6/8 time (think “America” from West Side Story). There was also a nice mix of percussion sounds including tambourine and castanets. The single-movement Harris symphony had an interesting build—strings (cellos front and center) joined by basses and violas, atonal but not harsh. Then welcome the brass and violas, with the woodwinds sneaking in, too. The music had touches of drama as well as touches of real beauty, including one section that was very reminiscent of the Aaron Copland sound (western motif/beef, it’s what’s for dinner).
I promised myself that I would give the Glass a try. I also chose an aisle seat, just in case. According to written and spoken program notes, the Glass symphony was based on (and indeed quoted material from) the 1977 David Bowie/Brian Eno album, Low. This meant next to nothing to me. Consider this—the Hermann overture was three minutes long. The Harris one-movement symphony was eighteen minutes long. The first movement (of three) of the Glass symphony was sixteen minutes long. Sixteen minutes of repetitive, repetitive, repetitive phrases that sounded like, “Someday I’ll wish upon a star” over and over and over and over. A second theme was eventually introduced that had a different motif repeated over and over and over again. And … that was it—I was out of there. Movements two and three were reportedly eleven and eighteen minutes (Harris’ entire symphony!) long, and I knew that it would not be enjoyable, enjoyable, enjoyable for me. But at least I did give it a try.
What was enjoyable was hearing this orchestra in a pair of very interesting programs. They’ll definitely stay on my radar (duh! I’m on their email list). As a side note, this entire post was written while listening to a free concert from Carnegie Hall, courtesy of WQXR (my local classical music station), which regularly presents Live from Carnegie Hall concerts. There’s lots of free stuff out there, in various guises, so get out there and explore.
ConcertMeister
Monday, April 3, 2017
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Soh Daiko (3/25/17)
Bang the drum slowly. Or not. This was my second (at least) experience with the drummers of Soh Daiko, and what a treat it was. As it turns out, it was not everyone’s cup of tea, as two moms with a small gaggle of kids left before the performance ended. I was enchanted and enthralled.
Soh Daiko is a group of drummers (based in NYC) patterned after Japanese drumming styles, both formal and improvisational. At any given time there were one to ten drummers on stage (plus some of them doubling on bamboo flutes, brass bells, conch shells, and gongs). Really cool stuff.
I could give you the names of individual pieces but that wouldn’t mean too much to you. Suffice it to say that there was a mix of solo, duet, and group drummers, sometimes with two people drumming on each side of one drum. Most pieces had four-based rhythms—ONE-two-THREE-four—but there were also subtle variations. And the range of volume (sans microphones, thank-you-very-much) was incredibly varied. Though I say, “Sans microphones,” microphones were used to introduce performers and pieces, as well as to amplify the sound of the bamboo flute from time to time.
Having said that I’ve seen Soh Daiko before, there were a couple of set pieces and characters that I recognized. One such character was the hapless fisherman, who eventually catches fish but then tends to fall asleep afterwards. Another set piece is “Shishimai” (“Lion Dance”), where a dancer/performer wears a Lion costume and performs to drum/bell accompaniment. The Lion costume has a real snappable jaw, which comes in handy when roaming through the audience and mildly terrorizing children. (Those of us who have read the program notes know that the Lion’s bite is good luck—alas, I don’t think many of the children read that part!) A little later, the fisherman returns and the Lion steals part of his catch, in a cute turn of events.
As silly and light-hearted as this seems, these are truly musical athletes on stage. They beat the drums, they move from place to place, and they execute intimate choreography (spinning from drum to drum, around a partner who is also spinning from drum to drum). When, as in the finale, that includes eight drummers, that is no slight feat.
New this year (at least new to me) was bringing children from the audience on stage and having them demonstrate the rudiments of drumming technique. In this case, we had three groups of six young drummers. The company members showed the stance—forward leg bent, drumsticks held aloft—and then went through a series of simple instructions. While the first group was going through their paces, one little girl waiting in the wings, so to speak, was moved to dance and spin in excitement. She later proved quite capable as a young drummer. In the third group of youngsters, one fellow mastered right hand-left hand One-two-Three-four, but then went to town banging, banging, banging. Kids do the darndest things!
From the introductory remarks, where the host kept saying “So-Day-koh,” (d’oh! – it's "So-Die-koh"), this was the fourth iteration of this concert at this venue. I hope to see many, many more.
ConcertMeister
Soh Daiko is a group of drummers (based in NYC) patterned after Japanese drumming styles, both formal and improvisational. At any given time there were one to ten drummers on stage (plus some of them doubling on bamboo flutes, brass bells, conch shells, and gongs). Really cool stuff.
I could give you the names of individual pieces but that wouldn’t mean too much to you. Suffice it to say that there was a mix of solo, duet, and group drummers, sometimes with two people drumming on each side of one drum. Most pieces had four-based rhythms—ONE-two-THREE-four—but there were also subtle variations. And the range of volume (sans microphones, thank-you-very-much) was incredibly varied. Though I say, “Sans microphones,” microphones were used to introduce performers and pieces, as well as to amplify the sound of the bamboo flute from time to time.
Having said that I’ve seen Soh Daiko before, there were a couple of set pieces and characters that I recognized. One such character was the hapless fisherman, who eventually catches fish but then tends to fall asleep afterwards. Another set piece is “Shishimai” (“Lion Dance”), where a dancer/performer wears a Lion costume and performs to drum/bell accompaniment. The Lion costume has a real snappable jaw, which comes in handy when roaming through the audience and mildly terrorizing children. (Those of us who have read the program notes know that the Lion’s bite is good luck—alas, I don’t think many of the children read that part!) A little later, the fisherman returns and the Lion steals part of his catch, in a cute turn of events.
As silly and light-hearted as this seems, these are truly musical athletes on stage. They beat the drums, they move from place to place, and they execute intimate choreography (spinning from drum to drum, around a partner who is also spinning from drum to drum). When, as in the finale, that includes eight drummers, that is no slight feat.
New this year (at least new to me) was bringing children from the audience on stage and having them demonstrate the rudiments of drumming technique. In this case, we had three groups of six young drummers. The company members showed the stance—forward leg bent, drumsticks held aloft—and then went through a series of simple instructions. While the first group was going through their paces, one little girl waiting in the wings, so to speak, was moved to dance and spin in excitement. She later proved quite capable as a young drummer. In the third group of youngsters, one fellow mastered right hand-left hand One-two-Three-four, but then went to town banging, banging, banging. Kids do the darndest things!
From the introductory remarks, where the host kept saying “So-Day-koh,” (d’oh! – it's "So-Die-koh"), this was the fourth iteration of this concert at this venue. I hope to see many, many more.
ConcertMeister
Thursday, March 30, 2017
A Really Special ’Meister (3/23/17)
Yes, it was free but no, you probably can’t replicate it. Through the largesse of the doorman at the stage door of the Broadway Theater (a former cast mate of mine), I attended opening night of the revival of Miss Saigon. I have never been to an opening night performance of a Broadway show (excepting the 1989 Circle in the Square production of Sweeney Todd that I was in). While I didn’t dote on the red carpet aspect of the evening, it was fun to watch some of the arrivals from my perch in the mezzanine lobby. And while I didn’t dress to the nines, I did at least add a Christian Dior pre-tied black bow tie to my impeccably pressed Lands’ End broadcloth shirt. I also got a commemorative ticket and ticket holder, and a copy of the souvenir program (one provided on every seat as you entered; it’s the little touches that make a big impression). But enough about me—on with the show!
Great set, great orchestra, great performers. And a house that was definitely out to have a good time. Having never seen the play before, I had a bit of a miscue in the shifts from 1975 to 1978 and back and forth again. But I got the gist of the plot (hello! Madama Butterfly).
My minor quibbles were with the introduction of the GI’s American wife (slightly awkwardly done), and her big scene in Act II which sort of came out of nowhere. My major quibble (and I know I’m fighting a losing battle here) is with the ‘sound design’ of the show. While it’s quite helpful to hear the soft, quiet, intimate moments between characters, it’s disconcerting to hear their belted out passion at the same volume. If you’re going to manipulate the sound, do a better job of it.
All of the performers put on a wonderful show, and it was a truly fun experience to feel the energy of opening night, especially when so many of the cast were making their Broadway debuts. That’s, and to quote from the show, The American Dream. Nothing beats that feeling. Thank you, Mr. Bill!
ConcertMeister
Great set, great orchestra, great performers. And a house that was definitely out to have a good time. Having never seen the play before, I had a bit of a miscue in the shifts from 1975 to 1978 and back and forth again. But I got the gist of the plot (hello! Madama Butterfly).
My minor quibbles were with the introduction of the GI’s American wife (slightly awkwardly done), and her big scene in Act II which sort of came out of nowhere. My major quibble (and I know I’m fighting a losing battle here) is with the ‘sound design’ of the show. While it’s quite helpful to hear the soft, quiet, intimate moments between characters, it’s disconcerting to hear their belted out passion at the same volume. If you’re going to manipulate the sound, do a better job of it.
All of the performers put on a wonderful show, and it was a truly fun experience to feel the energy of opening night, especially when so many of the cast were making their Broadway debuts. That’s, and to quote from the show, The American Dream. Nothing beats that feeling. Thank you, Mr. Bill!
ConcertMeister
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Silent Movies (3/11/17)
As you can see from the date above, I’m woefully behind in posting. Saturday,
the 11th, was another in the Silent Clowns series—Saturday Afternoon (1926) and Hands Up! (1926). This was the second of a three-part series featuring
Raymond Griffith, and these two films were selected by Ben Model, accompanist and President of the presenting organization.
Saturday Afternoon has Harry Langdon, as Harry Higgins, a henpecked husband, attempting to slink away from his wife for a Saturday afternoon double date. The film starts out with Harry wielding a sledgehammer in a blacksmith’s stable but keeping an eye on the clock (noon is soon). The ’smithy is ready with hot steel, but during Harry’s backswing his hammer goes flying. After retrieving it and preparing his backswing again, the whistle blows, Harry bolts, and the ’smithy is left holding the red-hot steel. And we’re off!
At home, while Harry is trying to retrieve his personal hoard of coins (wifey holds the purse strings in that family), he is thwarted by his wife. After she finally gives him a dime (contrived circumstance—hey, it’s silent film comedy), he collects coins from his second private hoard and meets the mastermind of the double date. Well, of course the dates don’t work out, and there are humorous episodes involving the first dates, the proposed second dates, and the thugs who were the real dates of the second dates. Confused yet? All ends well, with the wife finding him in trouble and then blaming herself for giving him the dime!
This is interesting. The title card slides add a lot of humor to these silent films. As much as the visuals delight us, the written word setups are important too. Here are two from Saturday Afternoon: “In 1864 when Lincoln declared all men free and equal, did he, or did he not, include husbands?” and “Harry Higgins, just a crumb from the sponge cake of Life.”
As I was watching Hands Up! with Mr. Griffith, I found myself thinking that I had seen it before, and indeed I had. Here’s a snippet that I wrote in July of 2012 (same organization, same film). “The feature was Hands Up!—a film starring Raymond Griffith. The plot was all over the place with Civil War agents and spies and a gold mine owner and his daughters and Lincoln and Brigham Young and—well, you get the idea. Once again, laugh out loud situations (including a painting of a supposed firing squad victim—I’m not making this up, you know!).”
So, almost five years later, seeing it a second time was interesting because even though I had already seen it, I was aware of different things this time around. Worth seeing again five years from now? Maybe so. And I laughed out loud again, as did this audience, this time around.
NYC peeps, if you want to see the third installment, it happens on Saturday, April 29. (Alas, no popcorn allowed in the Bruno Walter auditorium.)
ConcertMeister
the 11th, was another in the Silent Clowns series—Saturday Afternoon (1926) and Hands Up! (1926). This was the second of a three-part series featuring
Raymond Griffith, and these two films were selected by Ben Model, accompanist and President of the presenting organization.
Saturday Afternoon has Harry Langdon, as Harry Higgins, a henpecked husband, attempting to slink away from his wife for a Saturday afternoon double date. The film starts out with Harry wielding a sledgehammer in a blacksmith’s stable but keeping an eye on the clock (noon is soon). The ’smithy is ready with hot steel, but during Harry’s backswing his hammer goes flying. After retrieving it and preparing his backswing again, the whistle blows, Harry bolts, and the ’smithy is left holding the red-hot steel. And we’re off!
At home, while Harry is trying to retrieve his personal hoard of coins (wifey holds the purse strings in that family), he is thwarted by his wife. After she finally gives him a dime (contrived circumstance—hey, it’s silent film comedy), he collects coins from his second private hoard and meets the mastermind of the double date. Well, of course the dates don’t work out, and there are humorous episodes involving the first dates, the proposed second dates, and the thugs who were the real dates of the second dates. Confused yet? All ends well, with the wife finding him in trouble and then blaming herself for giving him the dime!
This is interesting. The title card slides add a lot of humor to these silent films. As much as the visuals delight us, the written word setups are important too. Here are two from Saturday Afternoon: “In 1864 when Lincoln declared all men free and equal, did he, or did he not, include husbands?” and “Harry Higgins, just a crumb from the sponge cake of Life.”
As I was watching Hands Up! with Mr. Griffith, I found myself thinking that I had seen it before, and indeed I had. Here’s a snippet that I wrote in July of 2012 (same organization, same film). “The feature was Hands Up!—a film starring Raymond Griffith. The plot was all over the place with Civil War agents and spies and a gold mine owner and his daughters and Lincoln and Brigham Young and—well, you get the idea. Once again, laugh out loud situations (including a painting of a supposed firing squad victim—I’m not making this up, you know!).”
So, almost five years later, seeing it a second time was interesting because even though I had already seen it, I was aware of different things this time around. Worth seeing again five years from now? Maybe so. And I laughed out loud again, as did this audience, this time around.
NYC peeps, if you want to see the third installment, it happens on Saturday, April 29. (Alas, no popcorn allowed in the Bruno Walter auditorium.)
ConcertMeister
Friday, March 10, 2017
Rule, Brittania (3/4/17)
Broadwood Junction – Francis Liu (violin), Patrick T. Jones (keyboard), Sarah Stone (Baroque cello), Evan Saddler (percussion)
The name Broadwood Junction is taken from an 1809 Broadwood square piano found and purchased at an estate sale. (Square piano is a bit of a misnomer; it is really rectangular.) Similar in nature to a modern piano, it is smaller, with a smaller keyboard range and a much smaller sounding board (and no steel frame to amplify the sound). Hence, it sounds more like a harpsichord but the strings are not plucked. It has a softer sound but can be amplified, Vivaldi-style, by playing many notes over and over again, very rapidly.
Announced from the stage:
Assorted pieces from A Selection of Scotch, English, Irish and Foreign Airs Adapted for the Fife, Violin, or German Flute: Humbly Dedicated to the Volunteer and Defensive Bands of Great Britain and Ireland (Published in Glasgow, 1782–1801)
Sonata in G Major, Op. 25, no. 3, C. 128 (1795) – III. Rule Brittania. Rondo Vivace – J.L. Dussek (1760–1812)
Variations on “God Save the King,” W0O 78 – L.V. Beethoven (1770–1827)
Concerto for the Harp or Piano-Forte, Op. 15 (1789) – III. Rondo: Molto Allegro – Dussek
The Naval Battle and Total Defeat of the Dutch Fleet by Admiral Duncan (1797) – Dussek
Note those dates, especially the Dussek. Just after 1776 and its aftermath (major war). Britain was trying to establish itself as a major superpower. And they liked their really, really long titles. But enough of history and politics; on to the music. The mix of Airs was introduced by drum, violin (folk tune–style, i.e., almost fiddle), then with added piano and cello. It was very chamber music–esque, taking the airs/tunes and matching/smashing them together.
Even though we didn’t hear the lyrics for the first Dussek movement, they were read to us: “Rule, Brittania, Brittania rule the waves.” Not ‘rules’ because, as noted above, Britain was not yet the superpower it wanted to be.
The Beethoven was for solo piano. Strangely, Mr. Jones was playing the 1809 piano from an iPad score. Totally weird. The variations were fairly straightforward for the first two or three, and then ventured into a perpetual motion variation, followed by a rhythmically diverse one, followed by one with a much wider range from the piano keyboard. A minor mode, more subdued variation followed, ending with block chords with filips at the end of each main phrase. Hmm, Beethoven seems to have known what he was doing.
Another set of airs from the first piece on the program followed, with violin and cello (strummed and plucked); violin and drum; drum and violin (yes, there is a difference) with a sort of a reel; and drum, violin, and cello, with the sense of a round, though it really wasn’t. Next, announced from the stage, was The Ploughboy, which had a jolly feel though it seemed a little contrived; it was not really my favorite.
What followed was A Ploughman Sailor and then attacca right into the Naval Battle, which included a slide show of notes from the score, referring to specific portions of the score. The piece was very dramatic, especially because it incorporated all four performers, and the tambourine, added to the percussion mix, added a lot to the drama. The text ‘narration’ was bit kitschy but actually worked.
This was a pleasant, somewhat intriguing look into an earlier era—one which I thoroughly enjoyed. Rule, Brittania, indeed! Just not here.
ConcertMeister
The name Broadwood Junction is taken from an 1809 Broadwood square piano found and purchased at an estate sale. (Square piano is a bit of a misnomer; it is really rectangular.) Similar in nature to a modern piano, it is smaller, with a smaller keyboard range and a much smaller sounding board (and no steel frame to amplify the sound). Hence, it sounds more like a harpsichord but the strings are not plucked. It has a softer sound but can be amplified, Vivaldi-style, by playing many notes over and over again, very rapidly.
Announced from the stage:
Assorted pieces from A Selection of Scotch, English, Irish and Foreign Airs Adapted for the Fife, Violin, or German Flute: Humbly Dedicated to the Volunteer and Defensive Bands of Great Britain and Ireland (Published in Glasgow, 1782–1801)
Sonata in G Major, Op. 25, no. 3, C. 128 (1795) – III. Rule Brittania. Rondo Vivace – J.L. Dussek (1760–1812)
Variations on “God Save the King,” W0O 78 – L.V. Beethoven (1770–1827)
Concerto for the Harp or Piano-Forte, Op. 15 (1789) – III. Rondo: Molto Allegro – Dussek
The Naval Battle and Total Defeat of the Dutch Fleet by Admiral Duncan (1797) – Dussek
Note those dates, especially the Dussek. Just after 1776 and its aftermath (major war). Britain was trying to establish itself as a major superpower. And they liked their really, really long titles. But enough of history and politics; on to the music. The mix of Airs was introduced by drum, violin (folk tune–style, i.e., almost fiddle), then with added piano and cello. It was very chamber music–esque, taking the airs/tunes and matching/smashing them together.
Even though we didn’t hear the lyrics for the first Dussek movement, they were read to us: “Rule, Brittania, Brittania rule the waves.” Not ‘rules’ because, as noted above, Britain was not yet the superpower it wanted to be.
The Beethoven was for solo piano. Strangely, Mr. Jones was playing the 1809 piano from an iPad score. Totally weird. The variations were fairly straightforward for the first two or three, and then ventured into a perpetual motion variation, followed by a rhythmically diverse one, followed by one with a much wider range from the piano keyboard. A minor mode, more subdued variation followed, ending with block chords with filips at the end of each main phrase. Hmm, Beethoven seems to have known what he was doing.
Another set of airs from the first piece on the program followed, with violin and cello (strummed and plucked); violin and drum; drum and violin (yes, there is a difference) with a sort of a reel; and drum, violin, and cello, with the sense of a round, though it really wasn’t. Next, announced from the stage, was The Ploughboy, which had a jolly feel though it seemed a little contrived; it was not really my favorite.
What followed was A Ploughman Sailor and then attacca right into the Naval Battle, which included a slide show of notes from the score, referring to specific portions of the score. The piece was very dramatic, especially because it incorporated all four performers, and the tambourine, added to the percussion mix, added a lot to the drama. The text ‘narration’ was bit kitschy but actually worked.
This was a pleasant, somewhat intriguing look into an earlier era—one which I thoroughly enjoyed. Rule, Brittania, indeed! Just not here.
ConcertMeister
Monday, March 6, 2017
Midday Masterpieces (3/1/17)
Schubert: Arpeggione Sonata, D 821
Brahms: Sonata No. 2 in F major, Op. 99
James Jeonghwan Kim (cello) and Jinhee Park (piano)
Unfortunately, WQXR does not give a program or a breakdown of movements for Midday Masterpieces. As a result, there was awkward applause after the first movement of the Schubert. WQXR should know better and do better.
In an odd weather situation, the sun broke through the clouds as Mr. Kim began playing. After a subdued opening, there was a very playful section. Cello strumming led to a repeat of the opening. There was a nice pizzicato (plucked strings) section, followed by a strong finish, after a few false endings. After a subdued section to begin the second movement, it was mostly long lines in the cello and light rhythm for the piano. In what might have been the third movement, there was a song-like section (hello, Schubert!) leading into a folk dance section. Note that I said, “What might have been.” This is one of my problems with Midday—the lack of a printed program. I don’t need glossy; I don’t need extensive player bios; however, a list of works, with a breakdown of movements would be a big plus in my book. There. Down off of my Hyde Park pedestal.
The first movement of the Brahms featured very full sound with lots of rippling accompaniment, including expressive lower range playing from the cello. There were many energetic sections and phrases, with both the piano and cello definitely equal partners. The pizzicato playing that began the second movement soon moved to bowed playing (a smoother line). A slower movement, in general, it had an interesting section where the musical themes were displaced octave by octave and then again, octave by octave, but pizzicato. The third movement was brisk, with contrasting rhythms and tempos back and forth, while the final movement was quick and, once again, song-like.
One stage comportment note here; the Greene Space is not the most accommodating, sort of a thrust stage with no real wing space. That said (and I know that these are student performers from the Juilliard school), a bow should be both an acknowledgment of the audience and a true expression of the performer’s success. Mr. Kim managed this pretty well, but Ms. Park seemed almost apologetic. No. Own your success. Bow, acknowledge the audience, and then leave the stage. If applause warrants, return for a shorter bow, and then leave the stage. I don’t need to see the ‘hand over heart’ gesture (yes, we know that you love that we love you, but it’s becoming a cliché). Acknowledge us, acknowledge your pleasure, and leave us all happy.
I’ll most likely be back for the first Wednesday of April.
ConcertMeister
Brahms: Sonata No. 2 in F major, Op. 99
James Jeonghwan Kim (cello) and Jinhee Park (piano)
Unfortunately, WQXR does not give a program or a breakdown of movements for Midday Masterpieces. As a result, there was awkward applause after the first movement of the Schubert. WQXR should know better and do better.
In an odd weather situation, the sun broke through the clouds as Mr. Kim began playing. After a subdued opening, there was a very playful section. Cello strumming led to a repeat of the opening. There was a nice pizzicato (plucked strings) section, followed by a strong finish, after a few false endings. After a subdued section to begin the second movement, it was mostly long lines in the cello and light rhythm for the piano. In what might have been the third movement, there was a song-like section (hello, Schubert!) leading into a folk dance section. Note that I said, “What might have been.” This is one of my problems with Midday—the lack of a printed program. I don’t need glossy; I don’t need extensive player bios; however, a list of works, with a breakdown of movements would be a big plus in my book. There. Down off of my Hyde Park pedestal.
The first movement of the Brahms featured very full sound with lots of rippling accompaniment, including expressive lower range playing from the cello. There were many energetic sections and phrases, with both the piano and cello definitely equal partners. The pizzicato playing that began the second movement soon moved to bowed playing (a smoother line). A slower movement, in general, it had an interesting section where the musical themes were displaced octave by octave and then again, octave by octave, but pizzicato. The third movement was brisk, with contrasting rhythms and tempos back and forth, while the final movement was quick and, once again, song-like.
One stage comportment note here; the Greene Space is not the most accommodating, sort of a thrust stage with no real wing space. That said (and I know that these are student performers from the Juilliard school), a bow should be both an acknowledgment of the audience and a true expression of the performer’s success. Mr. Kim managed this pretty well, but Ms. Park seemed almost apologetic. No. Own your success. Bow, acknowledge the audience, and then leave the stage. If applause warrants, return for a shorter bow, and then leave the stage. I don’t need to see the ‘hand over heart’ gesture (yes, we know that you love that we love you, but it’s becoming a cliché). Acknowledge us, acknowledge your pleasure, and leave us all happy.
I’ll most likely be back for the first Wednesday of April.
ConcertMeister
Thursday, March 2, 2017
Arts and Artists of Tomorrow (2/27/17)
Oh, who the heck are we kidding? It's Songbook, up-and-coming composers and lyricists. This month was a twist, because an artist fell through the cracks. Our intrepid host, John Znidarsic, sent out an SOS and got folks to raid their trunks and to write new songs for A Call for Hope – New Songs of Inspiration.
We had songs from approximately 15 or so composers and lyricists, and easily that many or more vocalists, all volunteering their time and talents.
Love Who You Love, by Ashton Michael Corey (and sung by him) was a blues/country/Billy Joel kind of song with the obligatory clap-along section that sort of petered out because, um, you know, we don't know when it's ending. Two songs by Ross Baum followed, both with a touch of gospel feel. There were nice, basic vocal harmonies, but they worked. Be the Dust, from Adam and Eve had a slightly more modern compositional style, with really nice vocal harmonies that were almost hymn-like (with the good and bad implications of that). The dust was always present.
Though the message was a little scattered, Girls in the Boys Club, from The State of Hockey, the Musical (I'm not making this up, you know!) was a tale of girls on the outside but who really contribute. OK, the next one was—muddled. Be the Light, a stand-alone, world premiere song, had a theme that stated that you can do anything! (so long as it's the same-old, same-old)—but what if what I want is brand new? It was inspiring and relatively strong from a lyrics standpoint (lyrics by Manda Leigh Blunt).
The winner of the evening for me was All I Need, by Michael Uselmann and Alex Koceja. With a bossa nova beat, the singer presented a very clever one-note joke: I love me! that poked just the right amount of fun at herself.
Two songs from The Mollyhouse, a musical about gay life in London in the 1700s(?) were interesting but not fully fleshed out enough. I think there's a nugget of info there waiting to be explored.
The last two songs by Jake Chapman and Henry Nettleton were just too, gosh, trying to be upbeat and rah-rah, such that they took this idea of Hope and Inspiration just slightly over the line and into cliché. Don't get me wrong—there was strong talent on the stage, vocally, compositionally, and lyrically, but it was just slightly too saccharine. Did I mention that they all volunteered their time and talents? This is a very worthwhile program and one that I will continue to follow in the future.
ConcertMeister
We had songs from approximately 15 or so composers and lyricists, and easily that many or more vocalists, all volunteering their time and talents.
Love Who You Love, by Ashton Michael Corey (and sung by him) was a blues/country/Billy Joel kind of song with the obligatory clap-along section that sort of petered out because, um, you know, we don't know when it's ending. Two songs by Ross Baum followed, both with a touch of gospel feel. There were nice, basic vocal harmonies, but they worked. Be the Dust, from Adam and Eve had a slightly more modern compositional style, with really nice vocal harmonies that were almost hymn-like (with the good and bad implications of that). The dust was always present.
Though the message was a little scattered, Girls in the Boys Club, from The State of Hockey, the Musical (I'm not making this up, you know!) was a tale of girls on the outside but who really contribute. OK, the next one was—muddled. Be the Light, a stand-alone, world premiere song, had a theme that stated that you can do anything! (so long as it's the same-old, same-old)—but what if what I want is brand new? It was inspiring and relatively strong from a lyrics standpoint (lyrics by Manda Leigh Blunt).
The winner of the evening for me was All I Need, by Michael Uselmann and Alex Koceja. With a bossa nova beat, the singer presented a very clever one-note joke: I love me! that poked just the right amount of fun at herself.
Two songs from The Mollyhouse, a musical about gay life in London in the 1700s(?) were interesting but not fully fleshed out enough. I think there's a nugget of info there waiting to be explored.
The last two songs by Jake Chapman and Henry Nettleton were just too, gosh, trying to be upbeat and rah-rah, such that they took this idea of Hope and Inspiration just slightly over the line and into cliché. Don't get me wrong—there was strong talent on the stage, vocally, compositionally, and lyrically, but it was just slightly too saccharine. Did I mention that they all volunteered their time and talents? This is a very worthwhile program and one that I will continue to follow in the future.
ConcertMeister
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)