Oberon's Grove

American Symphony Orchestra Presents 'Hollow Victory'

Above: composer Mieczysław Weinberg

~ Author: Ben Weaver 

Sunday February 29th, 2018 - Leon Botstein and his American Symphony Orchestra always present interesting programming of rarely-performed works. On January 28th, the theme was “Jews in Soviet Russia after the World War” and was perhaps one of their finest concerts. Presented were three works by two composers: first half was dedicated to Mieczysław Weinberg and second half to Vieniamin Fleishman. Both men were close friends with Dmitri Shostakovich, whose influence can be heard in their works.

Mieczysław Weinberg is perhaps the better-known of the two. Born in 1919 in Warsaw, Poland into an artistic family (his father was a conductor and composer of the Yiddish theater and his Ukrainian-born mother was an actress.) During the war his parents and younger sister were interned in the Lodz ghetto and died in the Trawnicki concentration camp. After the war, in the Soviet Union where he settled, Weinberg was arrested by the KGB in 1953. Shostakovich’s personal appeal to Lavrenti Beria - and Stalin’s death soon thereafter - saved Weinberg’s life. Weinberg’s vast musical output includes 22 symphonies, 17 string quartets, 9 violin sonatas, 7 operas, 40 film and animation scores (including for the Palm d’Or-winning film “The Cranes are Flying.”)

Leon Botstein began the concert with Weinberg’s “Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes,” composed in 1949. An ancient state - forced to be one of the Soviet Union’s republics between 1940 and 1991 - Moldavia’s culture is closely related to Romania’s and it’s folk melodies sometimes will bring to mind folk melodies Brahms and Dvořák used in their famous collection of dances. Weinberg’s Rhapsody begins with a drive from the low strings and then an oboe introduces the first mournful theme. The Rhapsody moves easily between the mournful and infectious dance tunes, alternating soaring full string section and solos for individual instruments. There is a definite Klezmer dance tune near the end, which brings the work to an exciting close.

Weinberg’s substantial Symphony No. 5, composed in 1962, without a doubt takes inspiration from Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 4, which though it was premiered in 1961 was composed 25 years earlier, and Weinberg and Shostakovich used to play a two piano arrangement of it for friends long before the premiere. The work opens with a slow “siren,” two repeated notes, from the violins. This motif returns over and over throughout the symphony like a wail of doom, sometimes picked up by other instruments. There are sudden interruptions from the timpani, bringing to mind Mahler’s 6th Symphony. There are beautiful and beautifully-played solos for various instruments, most notably the flute (Yevgeny Faniuk is listed as principal flautist) and horn (Zohar Schondorf)). The Symphony ends with a hushed march, growling trombones and a mysterious celesta.

Veniamin Fleischman was born in 1913 and entered the Leningrad Conservatory in 1939. His teacher, Shostakovich, called Fleishman his favorite student. While a student, on Shostakovich’s suggestion, Fleishman began composing the opera “Rothschild’s Violin,” from a short story by Chekhov. (Fleishman wrote his own libretto.) When the Nazis invaded the USSR in the summer of 1941 Fleishman enlisted in the Red Army and was killed on September 14 near Leningrad. Shostakovich went to great lengths to retrieve Fleishman’s manuscript of the opera. He completed and orchestrated the work in 1943-44, and later went to great lengths to have it performed, though without much success. Its sympathetic portrayal of Jewish people no doubt did not fit comfortably with the Soviet regime. There was one concert performance in Moscow in 1960 and a staged performance did not take place until 1968. Shostakovich wrote in his memoirs: “It’s a marvelous opera – sensitive and sad. There are no cheap effects in it; it is wise and very Chekhovian. I’m sorry that theatres pass over Fleishman’s opera. It’s certainly not the fault of the music, as far as I can see.” 

The main character, a Christian coffin maker Yakov Ivanov, undergoes a spiritual crises and something of an awakening. After Yakov’s wife Marfa informs him that she is dying, they both reminisce about their dead child, and Yakov realizes he will have to build his own wife’s coffin. “Life is all loss, only death is gain,” he says. Though Yakov quarrels with Rothschild, the young flautist in the local Jewish orchestra, at the end he leaves Rothschild his most prized possession: the violin, which Rothschild begins to play as the opera ends.

“Rothschild’s Violin” is a magnificent opera. Fleishman, editing Chekov’s story, brilliantly removed all secondary characters and stories, keeping only the story of the coffin-maker. We know nothing even about the young Jew to whom Yakov leaves his violin; nor about Yakov’s wife Marfa, who is dying. This is a story of one man, there are no loungers or pauses in the narrative. It moves quickly through monologues and dialogues, only pausing for Yakov’s final apotheosis where he comes to understand his life and losses. Though the characters, especially Marfa, feel sorry for themselves, there is no sentimentality or cheap dramatic effects. The simplicity of it is what gives the work so much power.

The quartet of singers assembled for the opera was perfect. Bass Mikhail Svetlov (above) was a deeply moving and beautifully sung Yakov. The only native Russian speaker in the cast, he projected the text and all its nuances in a way few can. His is a big, rich voice, with an easy top.

Mezzo-soprano Jennifer Roderer (above) was a plum-voiced Marfa; managing to be both a nagging self-pitying wife and a woman who, perhaps on her deathbed, has obviously suffered so much. What kept flying through my head as she was singing is that Ms. Roderer’s large, beautiful and booming mezzo would make a fantastic Fricka; it is a role she sings and we can only hope she is able to sing it at the Metropolitan Opera (which is supposed to bring back its Ring cycle soon.)

Tenor Marc Heller (above), singing the role of the leader of the Jewish orchestra, would make a pretty good Siegfried. The huge, ringing voice flew easily over the orchestra and Maestro Botstein’s rather unforgiving volume.

Lyric tenor Aaron Blake (above) was a lovely and nervous young Rothschild. There is actually very little for Rothschild to sing, so Mr. Blake made up for it with pantomime acting, particularly at the end after Yakov has gifted him his fiddle (kindly loaned for the proceedings by a violinist on stage), and an extended orchestral postlude (including lovely solo violin playing by concertmaster Gabrielle Fink) summarizes not only Yakov’s sacrifice, but Rothschild’s future. Intentionally or not, there was something quite poetic and moving in the fact that a member of the orchestra gave up her violin and was not able to play the extended orchestral passage in the end, mirroring Yakov’s own losses.

It is also worth nothing that the final orchestral passage goes from being lightly scored and transparent to having a very close resemblance to the searing final moments of Shostakovich’s 5th Symphony.

“Rothschild’s Violin” is a great opera; it deserves to be staged.

~ Ben Weaver

Brahms & Dvořák @ Chamber Music Society

Above: Johannes Brahms and Antonín Dvořák

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday January 30, 2018 - This evening's highly enjoyable program offered by Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center brought us works by Johannes Brahms and Antonín Dvořák: music for piano 4-hands by each composer, with a piano trio from Brahms and a piano quintet from Dvořák. Six excellent musicians were on hand to delight an audience who had chosen great music over the SOTU. 

Pianists Wu Han and Michael Brown shared the Steinway for the opening work: selections from Dvořák's Slavonic Dances. Wu Han - clad is brilliant red - presided over the lower octaves and Mr. Brown the higher. The chosen Dances, two from opus 46 and two from opus 72, formed a perfect set.

With the joyous opening of opus 46, #1, the cares and concerns of daily life were swept away; this Presto in C-major moves from exuberance to subtlety and back again. The players clearly enjoyed sharing the keyboard: in his program note, Mr. Brown compared playing 4-hands with playing doubles in tennis. And he further remarked that "...sharing one pedal is as strange as someone else brushing your teeth!" This duo got on like a house afire, vying in technical brilliance and relishing the more thoughtful passages. Opus 46, #2 has a darker, E-minor start, but then turns sprightly; Dvořák alternately accelerates and then pumps the brakes throughout this Allegretto scherzando.

The dances of opus 72 are in general less extroverted and rambunctious than those of the 46. The pianists kept to E-minor with #2 which has a lyrical sadness and an emotional pull at first but later becomes sparkly and charming. They rounded off this opening Dvořák set with opus 72, #1, Molto vivace in B-major. This commences with a rocking rhythm and shows fresh vitality before it quietens with some lovely upper-range shimmers only to re-ignite as it hastens to its finish.

For the Piano Trio in C-minor, Op. 101 of Johannes Brahms, Mr. Brown was joined by violinist Paul Huang and cellist Dmitri Atapine. This trio was composed in 1886 while the composer was summering at Hofstetten, Switzerland, and it was premiered in December of that year, with the composer at the piano, Jeno Hubay playing violin, and David Popper as cellist.

The opening Allegro energico begins passionately, and the strings play often in unison. Following an animated passage, there comes a deep melody; the movement ends almost abruptly. 

The trio's second movement starts very quietly, almost hesitantly, the strings are muted and given over to almost sneaky plucking as the piano holds forth. Then violin and cello have a dialogue. The pizzicati recur, and the sotto voce atmosphere of the music is sustained.

The Andante develops yet another conversation: this time between the duetting strings and the piano. All three musicians showed lovely dynamic gradations throughout. Mr. Brown's dreamy and evocative playing drew sighing motifs from the violin and cello. A sudden burst of passion ends the Andante. 

The rhythmic vitality of the concluding Allegro molto undergoes a mood change in an interlude where Mr. Huang's polished tone could be savoured. Melodious exchanges lead on to a fervent finish. The three players' sense of fraternity was evinced as they bowed to the audience's sincere applause.

Following the interval, our two pianists played three of Brahms' Hungarian Dances. Wu Han and Mr. Brown had switched places on the piano bench, giving Mr. Brown the deeper registers whilst Wu Han shone in the soprano range.

The Poco sostenuto in F-minor commences with a brooding quality, but then speeds up. A witty, almost 'toy piano' feeling charms in the central section before a return to the starting point. The music dances on to a fun finale. The Allegretto in A-major has a droll start and some playful hesitations: the two pianists seemed like co-conspirators here. Mr. Brown relished the low melody of the Allegro molto in G-minor whilst Wu Han's sweetly struck higher notes felt like raindrops. The music then grows lively, with a gypsy lilt.

A sterling performance of Dvořák's Piano Quintet in A-major, Op. 81 (dating from 1887) made for the evening's perfect finale, with violinists Chad Hoopes and Paul Huang, violist Matthew Lipman, and cellist Dmitri Atapine joining Wu Han.  

Mr. Atapine sets the opening Allegro ma non tanto in motion with a nobly-played cello theme; there follows a warm tutti passage where we're assured of a beautifully blended performance. Wu Han's gorgeous playing (throughout) underscores the silken high range of Mr. Hoopes' violin; then Mr. Lipman takes up a viola theme which is passed to Mr. Hoopes. Pulsing strings lead to an expansive passage; the Hoopes violin sings deliciously. We can revel in the intertwined voices for a few moments before the movement dashes to an ending.  

The second movement, Andante con moto, was a source of true magic tonight, with Wu Han again displaying her gifts for creating atmosphere. Mr. Lipman has the melody; a tempo increase brings us duetting violins. Then comes an engrossing passage: Mr. Atapine's cello sings deep as the violinists pluck; then Mssrs. Hoopes and Atapine sound a gentle, rolling motif in support of Wu Han's luminous playing. Mr. Lipman takes up the main theme with rich lyricism. A sudden animation is calmed by the limpid piano, and then the 'engrossing passage' is repeated, with unbelievable subtlety.

Chad Hoopes sends the Scherzo off with a light touch; Wu Han's dazzling playing has me under a spell. The viola and cello engage us, Mr. Atapine's attentiveness and sense of joy in his playing is inspiring to behold. Following a luminous interlude, the cellist propels the Scherzo to a lively finish.

The Finale: Allegro starts with a petite into, and then embarks on a flowing dance. I absolutely loved watching Wu Han here, ever-alert and eyeing her colleagues with affection, she was clearly having a marvelous time of it. The mood shifts unexpectedly as Mr. Hoopes plays what seems like a hymn...or a prayer. Then the music goes on its lilting way to a jubilant close. 

~ Oberon

@ My Met Score Desk for TOSCA

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday January 27th, 2018 matinee - The Met have fortunately replaced their unsightly and theatrically tedious Luc Bondy production of TOSCA with a traditional setting of the "shabby little shocker"; it opened on New Year's Eve with a cast and conductor that had undergone changes in the run up to the prima.

Aside from the dramatic show curtain depicting the Archangel Michael with blood-red wings, I could not see anything of the sets and costumes from my score desk. In April, I'll get a full-view when the 'second cast' takes over.

Other than at performances of TURANDOT, this was the fullest house I have seen at The Met in the past few seasons. Apparently many in the audience found the MetTitles in Act I to be hilarious today, for there was much unbridled laughter.

The orchestra sounded great, and I've always liked Emmanuel Villaume's conducting both in the opera house and the concert hall. His TOSCA was on the grand scale, painted in broad strokes, with tempi that pressed forward; yet there were also the needed lyrical respites where orchestral detail could be savoured. Villaume also allowed his singers to cling to favorite notes, without losing the shape of the music. A volcanic eruption of orchestral sound as the 'Scarpia Chords' heralded the Baron's entry was actually thrilling.

Sonya Yoncheva has been singing her first career Toscas in the present run. My past experiences with her in the theater have been as a pleasant Mimi and a moderately attractive Desdemona. In both those roles, a rather generic timbre and a tendency to sing slightly above pitch rather frequently offset her physical appeal and pretty but unexceptional vocalism. Making a sudden leap (oops!) to Tosca seemed like an unwise move for her; but, since I'm not a fan, do I really care if she blows her voice out?

Her Tosca was sung with unrelenting loudness; it's a one-colour voice to begin with, and she seemed indifferent to the markings in the score, seldom if ever singing less than mezzo-forte. Being a shade sharp much of the time did not help matters. She's pushing the lower range, and the top now tends to waver a bit. Overall there was a sense of forcing to fill the big hall.

The "Vissi d'arte" was over-sung, without the pulling back at "Nell'ora del dolore..." that personalizes the aria. In terms of declamation, Ms. Yoncheva  melodramatically veered from 'shrilling' on "Tu non l'avrai stasera...giuro!" to shouting on "Sogghigno di demone!"  Overall, she often seemed fully-extended. Yet her big aria won her a big applause, and I feel she'll be encouraged to make further forays into roles calling for a more dramatic sound than is hers by nature. I would guess in three or four years she will find herself in a similar situation vocally to the woman she replaced in these performances.

Vittorio Grigolo's Cavaradossi is likewise a step or two in vocal heft beyond the roles we've heard him sing to date. A generous singer, Grigolo pleases the crowd with his unfettered sound; he can zing out top notes that have a real spark but - unlike Ms. Yoncheva - he does on occasion throw in a piano note or turn a phrase more gently.

In the past, Željko Lučić has sometimes annoyed me with his errant sense of pitch in the Verdi roles, but today as Scarpia that problem cropped up only in passing. Following the thundering chords that announce Scarpia's arrival in the Church of Sant'Andrea della Valle, Mr. Lučić unleashed his own thunderbolt with "Un tal baccano in chiesa?!", catapulting to a house-filling top note. He alone of the three principals seemed to be doing something with the the words, and his singing veered from ripe power to velvety insinuation. As Tosca fled the scene after their encounter, Mr. Lučić's Scarpia laid the groundwork for his plot. In the ensuing Te Deum, baritone, chorus, and orchestra combined forces for genuinely exciting finale to the first act.

Lučić continued to impress in Act II, despite the occasional flat note. Ferocious in his questioning of Cavaradossi, feigning cordiality as he drew Tosca to the bargaining table, brazenly expounding on his lechery in "Gia, mi dicon venal", the Serbian baritone joined the ranks of my favoured Scarpias over the decades: Anselmo Colzani, Cornell MacNeil, Sherrill Milnes, Robert Hale, Frederick Burchinal, and Justino Diaz.

It's rare to hear a Sacristan who really sings: Patrick Carfizzi put the emphasis on the notes, and let the comedic aspects of the character take care of themselves. He sounded fantastic.

I was planning to stay for the third act, but as so often happens at The Met, the endless intermission got on my nerves and so, after a while, I packed up and headed home.

~ Oberon

Ehnes/Denève: All-Prokofiev @ The NY Phil

Above: violinist James Ehnes

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday January 25th, 2018 - A composer we love, an orchestra we love, a violinist we love, a conductor we love: my friend Dmitry and I had a great time at The New York Philharmonic tonight.

For this all-Prokofiev concert, The Love for Three Oranges Suite proved an imaginative opener. I've seen this opera only once, in Maurice Sendak's clever 1985 production for New York City Opera, and enjoyed it immensely. It was wonderful to encounter this music again, especially in Stéphane Denève's witty and wonder-filled interpretation.

The suite is in six movements, starting with Ridiculous Fellows which opens big and then gets subtle; the music is filled with a sense of irony, as is the entire opera. The Infernal Scene -  a card-game played by Tchelio and Fata Morgana - sounds ominous and develops a churning feeling. Fanfares herald the famous March, which begins softly and soon struts boldly. The xylophone and muted trumpets add a toy-like sound, and the winds play over pulsing violins; this March is droll, almost tipsy. Limpid fluting from Yoobin Son delights in the Scherzo, and there's a really lovely viola passage for Cynthia Phelps. The violins and horns play in unison. The suite ends with Flight, an allegro with an agitated air. Maestro Denève was perfectly in his element for this coloristic music, and he gallantly drew Ms. Phelps to her feet for a solo bow, graciously kissing her hand.

James Ehnes's playing of the Prokofiev Violin Concerto No. 1 was truly ravishing. This concerto has become very familiar to me over time in Jerome Robbins's balletic setting, Opus 19/The Dreamer, for New York City Ballet; it's my favorite of all Robbins ballets.

The music commences with a soft shivering tingle, and the violinist takes up a plaintive melody. Mr. Ehnes plays with an innate sense of rhythmic surety and delicious subtlety of dynamics. The music is dreamlike (hence the title of the Robbins ballet) with the soloist playing over soft tremolos from the violas. From this shimmering atmosphere, the flute sings while the violinist plays in his highest range. Really luminous.

The Scherzo was taken at super speed, giving the music a wild quality. Mr. Ehnes's superbly scrappy attacks propel things forward; the music buzzes and the violin slithers. The last movement commences with Judith LeClair's bassoon theme, into which the solo violin insinuates itself in a melodic rise. Liang Wang's oboe enchants, and the music grows ethereal, with an atmosphere of swooning beauty. Prokofiev brings in the high harp, and the violinst plays gliding scales. A series of delicate, jewel-like trills in the stratosphere display Mr. Ehnes's clarity and control; the concerto ends in an iridescent glow.

Mr. Ehnes's sustaining of the intriguingly glistening atmosphere of the final movement held the audience under his spell; a warm ovation ensued, and Maestro Denève seated himself among the players as the violinist offered a heartfelt Bach encore. Called back for yet another bow, Mr. Ehnes was hailed by all the Philharmonic string players tapping their bows in unison: a lovely gesture of musical congeniality.

Above: Stéphane Denève, in a Genevieve Caron portrait

Selections from Romeo and Juliet completed the program. Myself, I think Cinderella is the more interesting of Prokofiev's two full-length ballet scores. But audiences never seem to tire of the familiar tunes of the composer's setting of the Shakespeare classic, and there was much brilliant playing in this evening's presentation; it's music Maestro Maestro Denève clearly savours.

This cinematic score impresses from the start, where a violent opening gives way to tender delicacy. Prokofiev's orchestration provides one delight after another; the solo clarinet, saxophone, and harp each summon up unique emotions, while a passage for flute and celeste and another for unison basses and celli are particularly ear-catching. The tender dawn music as the 'balcony scene' ends puts a lump in the throat every time. Although I could not glimpse all the solo players, special kudos to Liang Wang, Robert Langevin (flute), and Pascual Martinez Fortenza (clarinet). Artists of this calibre add so much to every New York Philharmonic concert.

We had greatly enjoyed our first encounter with Stéphane Denève's conducting in 2015, when he made his Philharmonic debut in a program we still talk about. I hope he will return often in future seasons.

This evening, the orchestra welcomed the Zarin Mehta Fellows: ten young musicians from the Music Academy of the West who have spent a week in New York City participating in an immersive program covering all aspects of the life of an orchestral player. One can only imagine their excitement at being onstage and playing with the wonderful artists of the Philharmonic.

~ Oberon

Compagnie Accrorap @ The Joyce

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday January 23rd, 2018 - For their Joyce debut, Compagnie Accrorap performed The Roots, a work for eleven men created by the Company's founder, Kader Attou, that is at once vibrant and thoughtful. For 90 minutes, to an eclectic score, the men astound us with their break-dancing skills whilst also evoking a wide range of masculine feelings: loneliness, bravado, competitiveness, and camaraderie.

The Roots begins with a man slumped in a brokedown armchair. On an old turntable, a song is playing that summons up memories. He slips the needle off the disc, and music from a ghostly piano sounds as a group of men materialize: are they out of the past, the present, or the future? We never know. But they are soon dancing up a storm. 

To a musical collage devised by Régis Baillet - from his solo project Diaphane, and a spectrum of other music - the Company dance in full ensemble, in splinter groups, in in-sync trios, duets, and fantastical solos which display by turns their prodigious break-dance skills, acrobatic grace, and poignant artistry. Nadia Genez's everyday-wear costuming at once unifies the men as a community whilst allowing ample freedom of movement. In a dilapidated living room (Olivier Boune's design), a coffee table cunningly disguises a trampoline from which the men launch improbable aeriel feats: they are are truly at home in the air. At one point, all the furniture begins gliding about the stage. A major factor in the overall success of The Roots is Fabrice Crouzet's expertly atmospheric lighting.

There's a lot to take in, both sonically and in terms of movement, over the span of The Roots. In terms of risk-taking, pinpoint timing, and musicality, these dancers have everything to offer. Gentle wit keeps the audience charmed, but much of the time exhilaration is the watchword. The furniture often plays a part in the choreography, as in one of the work's most memorable passages: a terrifically subtle tap-dance routine done on a table top, whilst the lighting makes it a shadow dance.

Above photo by João Garcia

The dancers in The Roots are Babacar "Bouba" Cissé, Bruce Chiefare, Virgile Dagneaux,
Erwan Godard, Mabrouk Gouicem, Adrien Goulinet, Kevin Mischel, Artem Orlov, Mehdi Ouachek, Nabil Ouelhadj, and Maxime Vicente. Superstars individually, as a collective they are incomparable. The roar of applause that greeted their curtain calls attests to their achievement.

Above: choreographer Kader Attou, founder of Compagnie Accrorap.

This program continues at The Joyce thru Sunday, January 28th; I give it five stars. Get tickets here, or at The Joyce box office.

~ Oberon

Hockney @ The Met Museum

If you're in New York City, please take the time to visit the David Hockney exhibit at The Metropolitan Museum of Art; it runs thru February 25th, 2018. My friend Debbie and I were there earlier today and we both genuinely enjoyed seeing representative works from the various 'eras' of Hockney's career. I particularly loved all the shades of blue on his canvases.

Garden With Blue Terrace ~ 2015

Breakfast at Malibu, Sunday, 1989

Franck & Ravel @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet

Author: Oberon

Saturday January 20th, 2018 matinee - This afternoon's program at The New York Philharmonic might have been subtitled Music for Dancing: we heard a chamber score that's been transformed into a ballet, and - after the interval - a succession of works inspired by dance forms: a sarabande, a set of waltzes, and finally a boléro that has become one of the most famous musical works ever created.

From time to time, The Philharmonic programs a chamber work; this not only adds a new dimension to a given performance, but affords fans of the orchestra an opportunity to enjoy hearing some of the esteemed artists of The Philharmonic in a front-and-center setting.

This afternoon, a sterling performance of César Franck's Piano Quintet brought guest pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet together with a quartet of extraordinary string players to play this gorgeous score - music used by choreographer Justin Peck for his lush and exquisite 2014 ballet Belles-Lettres at New York City Ballet.

César Franck had fallen in love with one of his pupils, Augusta Holmès, who he met in 1875. The Piano Quintet was written under the influence of Franck's romantic obsession, and thus was detested by Madame Franck to the end of her days. Composer Camille Saint-Saëns (no less) played the piano for the Quintet's premiere performance, but he seems to have been offended by the music's sensuality; Saint-Saëns rejected Franck's proposal of dedicating the quintet to him.

The players for the Franck quintet this afternoon were Sheryl Staples and Michelle Kim (violins), Cynthia Phelps (viola), and Eileen Moon-Myers (cello) with Mr. Thibaudet at the Steinway. The opening movement, Molto moderato quasi lento, commences with a violin theme played by Sheryl Staples; Ms. Staples throughout the Quintet played with ravishing lyricism. Mr. Thibaudet enters with a somewhat hesitant phrase, and then Ms. Moon-Myers' dusky cello joins. The piano turns dreamy before a sudden eruption. Ms. Staples and Cynthia Phelps' richly shaded viola savour every opportunity, and the Quintet has an especially nice role for the second violin which Ms. Kim set forth with lovely tone.

The strings play in unison over a turbulent piano motif; a change to a more pensive mood finds piano and strings alternating. There's a spacious, impassioned passage before the movement's enigmatic end. 

Late seating at this point was a serious distraction; the players waited patiently as latecomers stumbled to their seats. Ms. Staples was then thankfully able to re-establish the mood quickly with her silken playing of the soft, longing theme over hushed keyboard that opens the Lento con molto sentimento. A heart-wrenching descending motif for piano and cello announces a hauntingly beautiful passage with a poignant mix of voices. Then Mr. Thibaudet takes up another set of descending notes, like raindrops - or heartbeats. Ms. Staples plays with overwhelming beauty; the hesitancy of the piano recurs, and the cellist sustains a remarkable deep note. Mr. Thibaudet in the high register and Ms. Staples's sweetest tones bring this romantic reverie to an end.

The concluding Allegro non troppo ma con fuoco opens with Ms. Kim's agitato figuration which Ms. Staples joins; the piano sounds almost ominous. Unison strings play over an active keyboard, evoking a sense of mystery and restlessness. A big, waltz-like buildup suddenly evaporates into an ethereal violin passage: Ms. Staples again at her finest. The music then grows unsettled in its rush to an abrupt finish.

Warm enthusiasm greeted the quintet of players as they came out for a bow; I had hopes of an encore, but the stage was now to be re-set for the full orchestra.

Joshua Weilerstein (above) took the podium for the second half of this afternoon's program, which opened with Ravel's orchestration of Claude Debussy's Sarabande et Danse. The sarabande originated in Central America as a dance for women, accompanied by castanets; it had an Arabian lilt. But the sarabande was regarded as too provocative, and was banned. Later the French took it on as a much more staid dance, at a slower tempo.

Ravel's setting of this piece, which Debussy wrote for solo piano, opens with a wind chorale; a full string section, with lovely basses, take over. Solo moments crop up - for clarinet (Anthony McGill), bassoon (Judith LeClair) and a trumpeter who I couldn't see. The work ends with the sound of a gong which fades to nothingness. By contrast, the Danse was upbeat, showing Ravel's orchestrational gifts to vivid effect. The harp and horn had their moments, and overall this coloristic, rhythmic little gem glowed.

The Valses nobles et sentimentales is a suite of waltzes published in 1911 by Maurice Ravel as piano solos; an orchestral version was published in 1912. The title was chosen in homage to Franz Schubert, who had published a set of waltzes in 1823 entitled Valses nobles and Valses sentimentales. The Ravel orchestrated setting has a strong balletic association: Balanchine used them for his eerie La Valse, wherein a young girl is stalked by Death in a haunted ballroom.

Mr. Weilerstein gave a vibrant interpretation, played fantastically by the huge orchestra. Mr. McGill (and a flautist I could not see from my location) made particularly fine impressions.

Ravel's Boléro was the closing work on the program, and it's always great fun to hear it played live. Ravel composed this best-known of his works in 1928 for a ballet choreographed by Bronislava Nijinsky for Ida Rubinstein. Consisting only of repetitions of the same C-major theme over the same insistent rhythm, Boléro hypnotizes with its constant shifts in instrumentation as the music unfolds in one long, slow crescendo.

The thrill of today's performance for a devotee of the NY Phil such as myself was in hearing the various solo voices of the orchestra take up the tune: flute, clarinet, bassoon, saxophone (wow, this guy was really wailing!), and on and on in various combinations. And all the while, the relentlessly diligent strings pluck and the snare drums maintain the pace, starting softly and turning militant as the Boléro sways onward with mesmerizing inevitability.

The crowd went absolutely wild as Boléro ended: everyone stood up and yelled.

~ Oberon

Gatti/Royal Concertgebouw: Wagner & Bruckner

Above: conductor Daniele Gatti

Author: Oberon

Wednesday January 17th, 2018 - This long-awaited Carnegie Hall concert by the Royal Concertgebouw under the baton of Daniele Gatti paired two of my favorite composers - Wagner and Bruckner - and my expectations for the performance were very high indeed. Wagner-starved as my friend Dmitry and I have been in recent seasons, hearing the Prelude to Act III and Good Friday Spell from PARSIFAL was alone reason to anticipate this concert for months in advance. That Bruckner's 9th Symphony would complete the program gave reason to feel this was destined to be a thrilling evening. Both works were played magnificently by this great orchestra, and Maestro Gatti again upheld our esteem for him as one of the greatest conductors of our time.

But in practice - as opposed to in theory - I felt, as the evening progressed, that putting these two masterpieces on the same program didn't work out nearly as well as I'd expected. About midway thru the Bruckner, I felt my interest waning. In attempting to reason it out, I came to this conclusion: Wagner is a great composer, and Bruckner is a very good one. This certainly does not mean that Bruckner's music isn't wonderful, and meaningful. But there's a depth of feeling in Wagner's writing that - for me - eludes Bruckner.   

Wagner's two 'Grail' operas - one about the father (PARSIFAL) and the other about the son (LOHENGRIN) - both contain music of other-worldly beauty. The composer wrote: "It is reserved for Art to save the spirit of religion." ["Religion and Art" (1880)]. In these two operas, Wagner's music expresses the inexpressible in ways that make non-believers like myself wonder if we've got it right...or not.

Maestro Gatti's gift for evoking mythic times and places (his Metropolitan Opera AIDAs in 2009 were fascinating in this regard) meant that the music from PARSIFAL performed tonight was truly transportive. As with his Met performances of the Wagner opera in 2013, Gatti's pacing seemed ideal. The gorgeously integrated sound of the Concertgebouw, with its velvety-resonant basses, leads us to Monsalvat, where - with Parsifal's return - the long Winter gives way to Spring. For a blessèd time, we are far from the dismal present, watching the flowers bloom is that legendary realm, as Kundry weeps. Poetry without words.  

Bruckner's unfinished 9th symphony impressed me deeply when I first heard it performed live in 2014, and I expected the same reaction tonight. For much of the first movement, I was thoroughly engaged and experiencing the tingles of appreciation that Bruckner's music usually produces. I confess that I like the 'purple' parts of Bruckner's music best, and perhaps my eventual zone-out began with the Scherzo.

In the Adagio, I grew restless; the repetitions became tiresome. A few people got up and left, and others had fallen asleep. I continued to attempt to re-engage with the superb playing and Maestro Gatti's interpretation, but honestly I could not wait for the symphony to end; and I made a mental note to skip an upcoming performance of it.

The irony of tonight's situation struck me as I was pondering the experience on the train going home. How is it that Wagner, a non-believer, is able to put us in touch with the divine whereas the pious Bruckner, a devout Catholic who dedicated the 9th symphony "To God", seems only to be knocking on heaven's door?

Now, more than ever, I look forward to the upcoming PARSIFAL performances at The Met.

~ Oberon

GrahamDeconstructed: RITE OF SPRING

Author: Oberon

Tuesday, January 16th, 2018 - In their ongoing series of studio presentations entitled GrahamDeconstructed, the Martha Graham Dance Company tonight turned the spotlight on Graham's masterpiece RITE OF SPRING at the Company's home-space at Westbeth. Though billed as a 'rehearsal', the evening had a thrilling sense of immediacy that few dance companies could hope to achieve even in high-performance mode. 

Martha Graham’s RITE OF SPRING premiered in 1984, some 70 years after Stravinsky's score and Nijinsky's original choreography touched off a riot at the Ballets Russes' first performance of the work at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, Paris, on May 29th, 1913.

This evening's presentation of the Graham RITE served as a warm-up for the Company's upcoming international tour performances of the ballet. And what a warm-up!: to some of the most physically demanding choreography imaginable, the dancers of the Graham Company brought the strength, passion, artistry, and personal commitment that set them in the highest echelon of the dance world.

Graham's RITE OF SPRING has two central characters: The Chosen One (tonight danced with striking intensity by PeiJu Chien-Pott) and The Shaman (an implacable force, danced by the magnetic Ben Schultz). The dancers of the corps de ballet have to be powerhouse stars in their own right, such is the level of technique and stamina that Graham requires of them. Watching them at such close range - at times I could have reached out and touched them - left me in a state of awe at their beauty and their boundless devotion to the dance. And so they shall all be named: the Annes (O'Donnell and Souder), Natasha M. Diamond-Walker, Leslie Andrea Williams, Laurel Dalley Smith, So Young An, and Marzia Memoli; the Lloyds (Knight and Mayor), Lorenzo Pagano, Abdiel Jacobsen, Ari Mayzick, Leon Cobb, Jacob Larsen, and Alessio Crognale.

While watching this ensemble in unison passages was exciting for their musicality and sense of unity, it was equally telling to focus on individual dancers or couples to savour both the steps and the detailed port de bras and hand gestures with which Graham tells the story of a community both entranced and enflamed by this ritual of death.

After tonight's RITE, the Company's artistic director Janet Eilber asked the dancers to introduce themselves and tell us where they are from. They are from everywhere: from Taiwan to Torino, from Bath, England, to the Ivory Coast. It struck me as eminently providential that these young people have gathered from near and far in this room in Gotham to carry on the work of a woman who was born at the end of the 19th century.

Here are some images by photographer Melissa Sherwood from this evening's presentation of RITE OF SPRING:

PeiJu Chien-Pott as The Chosen One and Ben Schultz as The Shaman

PeiJu Chien-Pott as The Chosen One and Ben Schultz as The Shaman, with Abdiel Jacobsen and Lloyd Knight

Lloyd Knight, Alessio Crognale, PeiJu Chien-Pott, Lorenzo Pagano, and Lloyd Mayor

Leslie Andrea Williams, Anne O'Donnell, PeiJu Chien-Pott, Ben Schultz

PeiJu Chien-Pott as The Chosen One

The Martha Graham Dance Company now embark on a tour that will take them to such far-away places as Key West, Luxembourg, Québec, and Taiwan. And then, from April 11th - 14th, 2018, they will be at New York's City Center for programs which feature Graham masterworks and rarities, and choreography by Lucinda Childs, Lar Lubovitch, and Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui.

With thanks to Ms. Sherwood for the images, and to Janet Eilber, Denise Vale, and Janet Stapleton for making it all happen.

~ Oberon

Mälkki/Skride @ NY Phil

~ Author: Scoresby

Thursday January 11 2018 – Last night at the New York Philharmonic was an evening that I had been looking forward to for a long time. It was conducted by Susanna Mälkki and featured violinist Baiba Skride. I had never heard Ms. Mälkki conduct the New York Philharmonic before, but had heard her during her days as music director of Ensemble intercontemporain, her debut at the Chicago Symphony a few years ago, and most recently conducting L’Amour de Loin. She is one of those conductors that I don’t necessarily agree with stylistically, but she always has an interesting and unique interpretation that is worth hearing.

The performance began with Baiba Skride performing the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35, which while a warhorse is also one of the most difficult concerti in the violin repertoire. Immediately from the orchestral introduction it was clear that Ms. Mälkki had prepared the orchestra well – all of the textures were transparent and grand. Ms. Skride for her part had a warm interpretation but that didn’t indulge in large romantic gestures. Instead, she played the piece as one might play Brahms. Each of the tuttis were more memorable though as I don’t think I’ve heard an orchestral accompaniment as vibrant or full of life for a piece like this. Ms. Mälkki followed Ms. Skride’s lead in taking out extravagant gestures usually found in the concerto. In the second tutti, the orchestra felt light, brisk, with the trumpets sounding grand above the violins. Ms. Mälkki produced an almost frantic tempo in the lead up to the cadenza. Ms. Skride was at her best in the fast skittering parts of the first movement, but seemed to have trouble with some of the technical sections of the piece.

Above: Violinist Baiba Skride; Photo Credit: Marco Borggreve

The second movement was the best of the concerto, in part because there was more direct interplay between Ms. Skride and the orchestra. Principal clarinet Anthony McGill’s duet with Ms. Skride was crafted beautifully; each note sounding like velvet. Ms. Skride took the third movement at a blistering pace and seemed more in her element here. She got a folksy, scraggily sound out of the violin that made the music feel more dance like.

After intermission Ms. Mälkki led the orchestra in the NY Premiere of an older piece of Esa-Pekka Salonen’s called Helix. While not the most exciting work by Salonen, this is an enjoyable overture-style piece that builds in momentum and dynamics until the very end. It begins with low gongs beating with high flutes coming in way above them. This extreme tonal range gives an almost primordial sound that one would hear in Ives. As with all Salonen pieces, this one relies on dance-like motifs mixed with a lot of orchestral coloring – thus it made sense to pair with the Debussy that would come later. Most impressive was that as the pieces gains momentum and becomes denser, Ms. Mälkki managed to create absolute clarity with the orchestra. Every instrument could be heard near the end, evening with banging percussion and wild dancing from all the instruments. Ms. Mälkki’s style of conducting reflects this precision: it is punctilious and clear; every beat is perfectly straight.

Above: Conductor Susanna Mälkki; Photo by: Simon Fowler

The final piece on the program was Debussy’s La Mer. Ms. Mälkki had an unusual interpretation that I found to be thrilling and dull at the same time. On one hand, particularly in the first and last movements, I have never heard the piece played with so attention to orchestral coloring. The winds and the brasses sparkled, the strings gushed at times, and there were thrashes, yet also beautifully delicate moments. Through all three movements every part of the orchestral was ringing with sound and clear. There wasn’t a note out of place. That said, Ms. Mälkki seemed to eschew all sense of ambiguity and impressionism in her interpretation using the same precision as in the Salonen. This worked well in the second movement which has a lot of counterpoint and fast runs, but it made the mystery of the music disappear in the others. I can imagine that anyone that enjoys a more sensual Debussy would be bored by this interpretation, but it is hard to argue with the interpretation as a whole when the orchestra has that much color. Ms. Mälkki obviously has the respect of the orchestra; the players were playing the best I’ve heard them in the past few years and were giving it their all.  I look forward to hearing Ms. Mälkki’s return.

~ Scoresby