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New York Concert Review Round-Up for 2009-10
By Edith Eisler
Even the
best-intentioned reporter cannot cover all the concerts of the
New York season. Here are some highlights that got left behind:
Two violinists presented
spectacular recitals: Joshua Bell with his frequent
partner Jeremy Denk, and Augustin Hadelich with
the esteemed collaborative artist Rohan De Silva.
Hadelich, making his New York debut, played in the Frick
Collection’s intimate auditorium; Bell played in Carnegie Hall,
whose size hardly suited his program of sonatas by Bach,
Saint-Saëns, Schumann and Ravel. But his brilliant technique and
glorious, intense tone came through, as did his elegance,
romantic ardor, and passionate involvement. Hadelich, winner of
the 2006 Indianapolis Violin Competition, is every inch a
virtuoso. He reveled in the fireworks of Ysaÿe’s “Ballade” and
Saraste’s “Carmen Fantasy,” and filled Prokofiev’s second
Sonata with sunshine and charm.
The American String Quartet
played Beethoven’s daunting Op. 127 with admirable technical and
tonal control, poise and expressiveness. With violist Michael
Tree, Brahms’ G major Quintet sounded rich, romantic
and exuberant; the Finale had true Gypsy abandon. The Orion
Quartet also performed Brahms in G-major (the Sextet,
with violist Hsin-Yun Huang and cellist Barbara Mallow),
along with Beethoven, Bartók, Mozart and Smetana. Perhaps
influenced by the prevailing fashion, they have been
over-projecting recently, but their playing is always deeply
felt and beautiful.
The Tokyo Quartet continued
its Beethoven cycle with a warm, serene performance of Op. 59
No. 2, notable for the seamless continuity of its lines. Formed
20 years ago, the Leipzig Quartet displayed remarkable
transparency in Haydn’s “Sunrise” Quartet; wrenching
grief in Mendelssohn’s F-minor Quartet; longing and passion in
Janácek’s “Intimate Letters.” The Panocha Quartet,
founded in 1968 at the Prague Conservatory, is distinguished by
its limpid tone, simplicity, and unaffected eloquence. An early
Mozart Quartet was lovely; Martinu’s cheerful No. 7
(1947) incorporated both his native Czech and jazzy American
idioms. In Dvorák’s great Op. 106, the players relished the
luscious melodies and spiky Slavic rhythms while weaving a
tapestry of independent voices.
Festival Chamber Music, a
rotating group of freelance musicians, presented an unusual
program in delightful performances: Milhaud’s humorous Suite
for clarinet, violin and piano; Beethoven’s lyrical, exuberant
Trio for clarinet, cello and piano Op. 38, transcribed
from his Septet; songs by Amy Beach with violin and cello
obbligatos, and Schubert’s “Shepherd on the Rock.”
Cellist/director Ruth Sommers, violinist Theodore Arm
and soprano Amy Cofield Williamson were excellent;
pianist Hélène Jeanney and clarinetist Charles Neidich,
the program’s busiest participants, captured the music’s diverse
moods and styles with soloistic brilliance and collaborative
sensitivity.
To celebrate his 85th birthday,
Pierre Boulez conducted the Chicago Symphony Orchestra
in two concerts featuring Béla Bartók: the Concerto for
two pianos and percussion, splendidly performed by
Pierre–Laurent Aimard and Tamara Stefanovich, and
“Bluebeard’s Castle,” sung with mesmerizing impact (in
Hungarian) by Michelle DeYoung and Falk Struckmann.
The orchestra’s principal flutist Mathieu Dufour played
Marc-André Dalbavie’s Concerto brilliantly; the orchestra
showed its virtuosity and wonderful sound in works by Ravel,
Boulez, and Stravinsky’s “Firebird.”
Boulez shared conducting duties
with Daniel Barenboim when Carnegie Hall invited the
Vienna Philharmonic to open its season with three concerts.
The orchestra sounded glorious; intonation and balance were
perfect; the playing was rich and homogeneous, yet clear. Except
for two Beethoven symphonies, the programs departed from
the orchestra’s usual fare with substantial works by Schoenberg,
Webern and Boulez. In the first concert, Barenboim’s “Pastoral”
Symphony was expansively lyrical; juxtaposing the lush,
sensuous finale of Wagner’s “Tristan” with Schoenberg’s
Variations demonstrated the birth of a new style from the
ashes of the old one. A noisy exodus of disgruntled listeners
midway caused Barenboim to announce an encore “for those who
stayed” - a fast and furious Johann Strauss Polka.
Gergiev and Berlioz at Carnegie
By Edith Eisler
Valery Gergiev is a ubiquitous
musical presence, seemingly able to conduct operas and concerts
on several continents simultaneously. Director of the St.
Petersburg Mariinsky Theatre since 1988, he is touring North
America with its orchestra, chorus and soloists; they stopped
off in New York’s Carnegie Hall for three concerts devoted to
two Gergiev specialties by Hector Berlioz: the Dramatic Symphony
Romeo et Juliette and the opera Les Troyens. The
performances were simply magnificent; no wonder he is among
today’s busiest, most sought-after conductors. The chorus, in
the grand Russian tradition, is superb; its members can emerge
as soloists even without stepping forward. The orchestra is
equally fine; the strings have the dark, warm sound of the best
European groups, the winds are splendid. Love scenes were
enhanced by beguiling clarinet obbligatos; the oboe added
mournful poignancy to the tragic moments; mellow horns led the
hunt, brilliant trumpets the triumphal marches.
The musicians played their hearts out, and, though positioned on
stage level, never overpowered the singers – a remarkable feat.
Part of the credit belongs to Berlioz, who, with masterful
control, lets the orchestra soar at full strength when the
singers rest and instantly subdues it when they enter. The
music, like all Berlioz, alternates sophisticated complexity
with almost naïve simplicity, and combines epic grandeur, drama
and passion with melting lyricism, poetic ardor, and
heart-breaking sorrow. But amid all the sound and fury of
shrilling piccolos and clashing cymbals, it is the intimate
scenes of tender affection that remain in the memory.
Romeo et Juilette is a strange realization of
Shakespeare’s play. True to its title and to Berlioz’ conviction
that music speaks more eloquently than words, the orchestra
carries the action, sets the moods, and evokes the characters’
thoughts and feelings. (The score requires from two to ten
harps; the Mariinsky had two.) The chorus, a solo mezzo-soprano
and tenor act as narrators and commentators; in the last scene,
the solo bass becomes Friar Lawrence and delivers a long
exhortation to the warring families to finally make peace. The
work is rarely performed in its entirety, as it was here, but
the elfin “Queen Mab” Scherzo, depicting Romeo’s dream,
is a favorite orchestral bravura piece.
By contrast, Les Troyens is a grand opera with a cast of
more than 20 characters; requiring a huge chorus and orchestra
and over a dozen vocal soloists, it lasts four hours and was
performed in two parts on consecutive evenings. Berlioz wrote
his own libretto; the first part recounts the tragic end of the
siege of Troy, the second the tragic love story between the
Carthagean Queen Dido and the Trojan hero Aeneas. The vocally
and dramatically most demanding parts are two mezzo-sopranos as
Cassandra in Part I and Dido in Part II; Aeneas, a very high,
heroic tenor, appears in both parts. The singers, who included
the Romeo soloists, were terrific; all except one sang
from memory. In Part I, they remained static, but in Part II
they acted and interacted, underlining drama and emotion with
gestures and movements.
But the real hero was Gergiev. Using no podium gives him unusual
freedom of movement; he walked about, turning and leaning toward
the players, leapt up, and swayed to the music. He conducted
Part I without baton; for Part II, he brought one out, but
mostly kept it in his left hand. His knowledge of the complex
scores and control of his massive forces were incredible; he was
in close contact with the soloists, though he had his back to
them and they hardly looked at him. Guiding and shaping each
performance in every detail and as an overarching whole, he held
the capacity audiences spellbound until the tumultuous ovations.
A Quartet of… Cellists
By Edith Eisler
Sometimes certain works are absent
from concert programs for several years and then re-discovered
by everybody simultaneously. This season may have set a record
in duplications of cello sonatas: within a few weeks, Debussy’s
was performed three times, and Schubert’s, Faure’s, Poulenc’s,
and Prokofiev’s twice each. They were played by two audience
favorites - Steven Isserlis and Timothy Eddy (whose recital was
reviewed earlier) – and two strikingly talented newcomers and
multiple prize winners who were making their New York debuts:
Jean-Guihen Queyras and Andreas Brantelid. Moreover, Eddy’s and
Brantelid’s programs were almost identical.
For many young performers, nothing seems to be more difficult
than to be simple. The “Arpeggione” was the weakest part of both
debut recitals; sinking under the weight of fussy tempo changes,
overdone phrasing and dynamics, it lost its continuity and
pensive introspection. Queyras’ playing, though technically
excellent, was rather fussy altogether; his constantly delayed
vibrato, fluctuating tempi and other external effects were
especially distracting in a Bach Sonata and three
Schubert songs not well chosen for transcription. However, in
the Debussy and Poulenc Sonatas, his tonal variety and
rhythmic flexibility brought out the manifold colors and
character changes beautifully. He was greatly abetted by his
long-time pianist Alexandre Tharaud.
Brantelid also benefited from playing with a frequent partner,
the esteemed veteran pianist Bengt Forsberg. Though generally
wonderfully supportive, he sometimes got carried away and played
as loudly as if he were alone on the stage. Brantelid is an
extraordinary cellist: his technical command, without being
flashy, is so natural and secure that one forgets about it; he
draws the listener into the music by the sheer power of his own
identification with it. He projected Fauré’s elusiveness,
Debussy’s quirky rhythms, character changes, and Prokofiev’s
melting lyricism and robust earthiness, all with complete
authority.
Isserlis played the Poulenc Sonata as part of a very
interesting program he shared with violinist Anthony Marwood and
composer/pianist Thomas Adès, whose cello and piano piece,
Lieux retrouvés (Rediscovered Places) was receiving its U.S.
premiere. Isserlis says he has never played anything so
difficult, though the rest of the program was no less
challenging. It is indeed very demanding; its figurations,
diverse rhythms and sound effects, evoking water, mountains,
fields and the city, require utmost virtuosity and imagination
of the players. Adès, who played throughout the concert, joined
Marwood in Janácek’s Violin Sonata; their affinity for
his idiosyncratic, prosodic idiom, his fluid tempi and shifting
emotions was remarkable. For his own work, Adès had a most
persuasive advocate in Isserlis, a splendid cellist and a
compelling, versatile, adventurous musician. Their performance
of the Poulenc, preceded by arrangements of two sad, slow pieces
by Liszt, was brilliant, full of character and contrasts, with
natural, poised transitions between lyricism, assertiveness,
exuberance, and irony. Finally, the three players gave a
fabulous performance of Ravel’s notoriously difficult Piano
Trio. Surmounting its instrumental and rhythmic hurdles with
incredible ease, they captured its poetic atmosphere, changing
moods and kaleidoscopic colors with total identification and
unanimity.
Cello-Piano Duos Prove Popular This Winter
By Edith Eisler
(Cello Article Continued from Main Page).
Formed in 1980,
the Timothy Eddy/Gilbert Kalish cello-piano duo is another
remarkable collaboration. The two players are ubiquitous on the
music scene: in addition to giving concerts together, they are
active as soloists, chamber musicians and pedagogues. Eddy is
the cellist of the Orion Quartet, in residence at Mannes, in
whose intimate concert hall the Duo often presents sonata
recitals. Their latest concert there—a capacity house on January
25th, 2010—featured many different styles. Classicism:
Beethoven’s Variations on a Theme from Mozart’s Magic Flute,
played with grace, humor, and inward expressiveness; Romanticism
blended with atonality: Ben Weber’s brief Five Pieces, in which
three sustained, slow, mournful character sketches are framed by
two lively ones; Impressionism: Debussy’s colorful, piquant,
ironic Sonata, and Fauré’s Sonata No. 2, elusive and very rarely
performed, but obviously loved by these two players. After all
this misty evanescence, the vigorous, earthly Prokofiev Sonata
brought a sense of relief, as if the clouds had lifted and
revealed solid ground under a blue sky. The players, too, seemed
more relaxed, unrestrained and free, reveling in its rhythmic
vitality and its full-blooded, soaring melodies, totally at one
with the music and each other.
Despite snow, ax and bell recitals attract large audiences to
carnegie hall
By Anthony Aibel
Emanuel
Ax - Photo: J. Henry Fair
Despite a huge snow storm and a
prediction of one, people came out in droves to the large Stern
Auditorium at Carnegie Hall to see Emanuel Ax and Joshua Bell.
In many ways, violin and piano recitals sound best in smaller,
more intimate spaces for which they were intended, but Ax and
Bell sell lots of tickets and they need a space that can meet
demands. On February 10th, 2010, Manhattan received about 10
inches of snow—not nearly as much as Washington D.C. got the
week before—but nonetheless, it was enough to potentially scare
people away. Good thing Emanuel Ax has such a great following;
the many that attended were treated to a 200th Anniversary
celebration of Chopin and Schumann’s birth. Ax was at his best
in music by Chopin: the Polonaise-fantaisie in A-flat,
the Andante spianato and Grand Polonaise, and especially
three Mazurkas: the op 41, No. 1 in C-sharp Minor; the Op. 24,
No. 2 in C Major and the Op. 56, No. 3 in C Minor. The young
Brit Thomas Ades wrote three mazurkas of his own for the
occasion, and they are charming—although they don’t really sound
like mazurkas. The first one was almost a carbon copy of
Prokofiev, but the last two were quite inventive, with unusual
leaps and harmonies. Throughout the program, Ax often used his
soft-pedal, and his subdued, semi-passionate performances of
Schumann’s Fantasiestucke and Fantasy in C Major lacked
some grandeur and spontaneity in faster passages. His encore,
the Chopin Waltz in A minor, was also one of his more
automatic-pilot performances. Maybe his performance
inadvertently hurried as a result of subconsciously and
altruistically wanting people to get home after a stormy day. (I
know; it’s a stretch.)
James Levine’s New Baton Technique…
and Superhero Status
By Edith Eisler
January 24th, 2010 at Carnegie Hall
James Levine, who just recovered from spinal surgery, has
returned to the Metropolitan Opera pit and the concert stage in
fine fettle. At his January 24th Carnegie Hall appearance with
the MET Orchestra – their second this season – his high-voltage
energy, fiery temperament, exuberance, and emotional—as well as
mental—concentration were totally unimpaired. However, his
conducting technique seemed to have undergone a startling
change. Since the musicians, after many years of collaboration,
are so attuned to him that they respond to the merest lift of
his eyebrows, his motions used to be “close to the vest” and so
small as to be invisible to the audience. His rapport with the
orchestra is still palpable, but his gestures have now become
big and sweeping: he waves his arms in all directions, turning
and swaying from side to side. It was very exciting. The program
was framed by two of the repertoire’s most popular symphonies:
Schubert’s “Unfinished” and Beethoven’s Fifth. Levine seems to
have succumbed to the current penchant for extreme dynamic
contrasts, from the softest murmur of whispering strings to the
most thunderous use of timpani. The opening of the Schubert was
nearly inaudible, but otherwise, it was beautifully lyrical and
introspective. The Beethoven was extremely dramatic, and the
orchestra played splendidly, as always. Levine, in addition to
conducting four operas at the Met, is returning to Carnegie Hall
for two concerts with the Boston Symphony, plus directing Met
Chamber Ensemble Concerts and master classes. The audience gave
this intrepid musical superman a hero’s welcome and rewarded him
with standing ovations.
"Houston, We Have a Problem"
By Anthony Aibel
January 28, 2010 at Carnegie Hall
If any orchestra should tour with Holst’s “The Planets”, the
Houston Symphony should—due to its relationship with NASA and
the Johnson Space Center. But a film experiment directed by
Duncan Copp called “The Planets: an HD Odyssey” didn’t work: the
space images and video, though extraordinarily clear and
beautiful, were too generic for Holst’s mythical descriptions of
the planets and our own imaginations that inevitably follow. It
was like experiencing an orchestra play James Horner’s riveting
music to the film “Titanic” while watching real under-water
pictures of the sunken ship. One is reality; the other delves
into story-telling.
In the future, a few actual
stills of a planet could be shown at the beginning of each
movement of the suite, and the remainder should focus on the
music and the orchestra with the lights up (the players were
hardly visible). In terms of future video accompaniment, I’d
rather watch close-ups of the Houston performers playing this
fantastically detailed score. On the other hand, the Houston
Symphony, which sounded less-than-stellar in “The Planets”,
might want to make some changes; there were several unclear
attacks and missed notes from the trumpets and horns, and the
playing as a whole lacked tonal refinement and a robust
symphonic sound. The orchestra’s music director, Hans Graf, led
light, airy performances of Stravinsky’s “Scherzo fantastique”
and “Fireworks”, which book-ended the program, and Dutilleux’s
“Timbres, espace, mouvement, ou La Nuit etoilee” was given a
dedicated performance, with the orchestra’s fine cello and bass
sections sounding strong and well-blended.
Diana Damrau’s Versatility includes Acrobatics
By Edith Eisler
January 23, 2010 at Carnegie Hall
The German soprano Diana Damrau recently sang eight songs by
Richard Strauss, and Zerbinetta’s aria from his opera “Ariadne
auf Naxos” with the MET Orchestra under James Levine. Her voice
is ravishingly beautiful, with enough power to cut through and
sail above the orchestra, clearly showing her operatic roots,
yet capable of drawing listeners into the soft, intimate songs
with a wonderfully floating quality. But it was her coloratura
that left the audience gasping in disbelief. Her last song,
“Amor” – unfamiliar for good reason – was a tour de force of
trills, roulades and other acrobatics. The aria, one of the most
spectacular display pieces in all opera, was dazzling; she acted
it out with humorous, ironic gestures and facial expressions,
tossing off the fireworks with incredible brilliance. It brought
the house down, so she repeated the last section; but this time,
she stood cheek to cheek with Levine, one foot on his podium,
both mugging with gleeful abandon and having a wonderful time.
Gilbert's Seamless Schumann
By Anthony Aibel
On December 30th,
2009, The New York Philharmonic, with Alan Gilbert conducting,
gave one of the greatest performances of Schumann’s Second
Symphony you will ever hear. Why? Not only was it executed with
a beautiful, polished sound by all the sections in the
orchestra, but the interpretation was extremely honest to the
extent that every musical gesture was in tune with the composer
and his score. Exaggeration and showmanship are words associated
with past conductors at the Philharmonic, and if anything, we
heard the opposite: some of Schumann’s tempo changes were
conducted so seamlessly--with such subtlety--that they almost
went unnoticed. The first movement was jovial but intense; the
Scherzo was played with a controlled jauntiness; the Adagio
espressivo movement was played with a sincere tenderness, and
the finale was simply glorious. The New York Philharmonic and
Alan Gilbert make a case that Schumann’s Second Symphony is one
of the greatest symphonies of all time. Let’s hope they perform
this work often.
Quintessential Gershwin at the Philharmonic
By Anthony Aibel
On December 31st,
2009, conductor Alan Gilbert wisely let the New York
Philharmonic do their thing (and that swing) in Gershwin’s
“American in Paris”, as the orchestra—due to its long history
with the work-- can possibly play it like they play Bernstein’s
“Candide Overture”: that is without a conductor. But I
exaggerate a bit; some of the tricky tempo changes, balances and
juxtapositions of rhythm need to be negotiated smoothly by a
conductor with taste. Gilbert impressively accomplished that,
and the end result was the quintessential performance of “An
American in Paris”.
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