Oberon's Grove

Ballets Russes @ Chamber Music Society

Above: violinist Nicolas Dautricourt, photographed by Bernard Martinez

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday May 19th, 2019 - For their final concert of the 2018-2019 season at Alice Tully Hall, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center offered a program of works by composers associated with Serge de Diaghilev's Ballets Russes. It was a long program, full of rewards.

Jennifer Johnson Cano, the Metropolitan Opera mezzo-soprano who in February shared a memorable program with tenor Matthew Polenzani at Zankel Hall, sang works by Manuel de Falla and Maurice Ravel, and a septet of marvelous musicians were heard - in varying configurations - in these, plus music by Debussy, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky. 

Ms. Cano (above, in a Matthu Placek portrait) opened the concert with Manuel de Falla's Psyché in which she was joined by Tara Helen O'Connor (flute), Nicolas Dautricourt (violin), Yura Lee (viola), David Finckel (cello), and Bridget Kibbey (harp). Composed in 1924, as a setting of a poem by Georges Jean-Aubry, this is the awakening song of Psyché, a mortal woman whose beauty has caught the eye of Cupid, god of Love, who she will eventually marry.

The flûte enchantée of Tara Helen O'Connor opens the work; the addition of M. Dautricourt's ethereal violin and Ms. Kibbey's delicate harp create an exotic atmosphere. Ms. Cano's singing - clear, warm, and wonderfully nuanced -  was vastly pleasing; in her unaccompanied opening passage, the sheer beauty of her tone and its evenness throughout the registers marked her as a singer of exceptional natural gifts.

Adding depth and colour to the enticing 'orchestration' were Ms. Lee's viola and Mr. Finckel's cello; overall the five instrumentalists created an impression of a larger ensemble thru the richness of their individual timbres. The music becomes urgent, and Ms. Cano's singing golden, as flute trills and harp melismas lure the ear.  Psyché this evening was an intoxicating delight.

For Maurice Ravel's chamber arrangement of Shéhérazade, Ms. Cano and Ms. O'Connor returned, along with pianist Alessio Bax. It's Mr. Bax's delicate, silvery playing that sets the mood of the opening song, Asie. At "Je voudrais voir des assassins souriant", passion builds: Ms. Cano brought an operatic quality to her performance at this point, rising to her steady and blooming upper range to fine effect. Asie has a little pendant at the end, full of lovely mystery. It ends on an exquisitely tapered note.

La flûte enchantée brings forth limpid, entrancing sounds from Ms. O'Connor's flute, and the weaving together of voice, flute, and piano is hypnotic. The concluding song, L'indifferent, begins with a calm lullabye played by Mr. Bax. Ms. Cano's beguiling singing, sometimes bringing straight tone into play, was a marvel of expressiveness.

Infringing on our enjoyment of the Ravel was the sound of text booklets dropping onto the floor, and a crash of something falling in the outside corridor. But Ms. Cano held to her course; this is a truly wonderful voice that I would love to hear in the music of Massenet's Charlotte.

Above: harpist Bridget Kibbey

Mlles. O'Connor, Lee, and Kibbey then offered a sublime performance of Claude Debussy's Sonata for Flute, Viola, and Harp, written in 1915. In an evening filled with marvelous sounds, the opening sustained flute tone of this sonata - taken up by the viola - sent chills thru me at the start of the Pastorale. The blend these three remarkable musicians produced was exceptional. A gentle animation arose - soft and merry - only to subside. Mlles. Lee and O'Connor duet, the viola deep and buzzy. Swirls of notes from the harp - and then from the flute - lingered on the air.

The Interlude commences with a viola melody underpinned by the harp, After a sprightly interjection, viola and flute play in unison, and the harp tapers to pianissimo.The viola is plucked, the music soft and swift. A percolating motif opens the Finale, like the break of dawn on a sunny day; after a momentary slowing down, the piece ends abruptly.

Prokofiev's Sonata in D-major for Violin and Piano, Op. 94a, brought together Mssrs. Dautricourt and Bax for a fabulous performance that sparked a shouting, standing ovation from the crowd. Though the piece was composed in 1943 as a flute sonata, Prokofiev later obliged the great violinist David Oistrakh by creating a violin version, which premiered in 1944.

Mr. Dautricourt launched the sonata with a high sweet/melancholy song. As the music becomes increasingly animated, an ultra-familiar theme is heard, which will crop up several times along the way. Vibrant, agitated, march-like music ensues; Mr. Bax displays magic tricks of his own, and the movement has a lovely ending.

In the Scherzo, Mr. Dautricourt's virtuosity is astounding. A demented, off-kilter dance commences, then slows to a high-lying interlude before resuming. The music, and the playing of it, are thrilling...and then it comes to a sudden halt.

The audience, who all evening applauded between movements, prompted the violinist to declare "Two more!" before commencing the Andante: a sorrowful song which tends to meander a bit over time, with a hint or two of of jazz thrown in; in the end it becomes high and eerie. 

The concluding Allegro con brio dances along, with some respite for a poignant interlude before dancing on again. Moodiness briefly takes over, and then a rush to the finish. The applause began before the music stopped: Dautricourt/Bax are a winning team.

Lucille Chung and Alessio Bax (above, photographed by Lisa-Marie Mazzucco) joined together for the evening's Fokine finale, saluting Diaghilev's ground-breaking choreographer with a piano-four-hands arrangement of Igor Stravinsky's Petrushka.

Despite more intrusions - a loud clang from the balcony, and the sound of something (or someone) falling - Stravinsky's brilliance prevailed. For 40-minutes, the outstanding Bax/Chung duo sustained the vibrancy of a theatrical presentation; everything felt so alive - with dazzling rhythms and infinite colours - that the entire ballet danced in the mind. For their brilliant and generous playing, the couple were rewarded with hall-filling, joyous applause. What a way to end the season!

~ Oberon

Liebesnacht

I keep telling myself to stop buying CDs, but every once in a while I'll come upon something that piques my curiosity. The disc pictured above - of scenes from Acts II and III of TRISTAN UND ISOLDE, recorded in 2005 at Bratislava - features two Wagnerian singers with busy careers: soprano Linda Watson and tenor Robert Dean Smith. The Slovak Radio Symphony play very well, under the baton of Ivan Anguélov.

Ms. Watson has been a go-to Brünnhilde for a couple of decades, notably at Bayreuth. The shortness of her top range has prevented me from fully enjoying her singing over the years, but last Summer I became quite taken with her whilst watching the documentary and performance of The Colón RING on DVD. Mr. Smith gave us a sterling Tristan as his Met debut in 2008 when he flew in to sing the HD Simulcast after Ben Heppner withdrew. Mr. Smith later sang Strauss's Bacchus and Puccini's Pinkerton at the Met; in both those roles he was somewhat compromised by mediocre conducting, but his fine singing carried the day.

The CD has been sitting here in a pile of un-played discs for several weeks; on a damp and dismal Sunday morning, I put it on for the first time and was frankly blown away by the two singers' breathtaking performance of the love duet.

Purists will probably take issue with the structuring of the opera's highlights as they are heard here (it's not an easy opera to excerpt): the Act II prelude (begun here with with a wonderfully furtive feeling) skips seamlessly to the ecstatic greeting of the impatient lovers, and then quite soon to "O sink hernieder, nacht der liebe".  The interjections of Brangäne are omitted, with linking orchestral passages turning the disc's opening tracks into a 30-minute feast of tender, passionate lyricism. Both singers adopt an intimate and finely-nuanced style of singing here, and the result is engrossing.

The end of Act II has now become one of my favorite parts of the opera. Broken-hearted by Tristan's betrayal, King Marke seeks answers from the young man: how did this come to pass? Tristan cannot explain, as he is under the spell of the love potion. Turning to Isolde, Tristan says he will go now to the realm of darkness, and asks if she will follow him there. Isolde replies:

Linda Watson & Robert Dean Smith - Tristan und Isolde ~ Als fur ein fremdes Land

"Wherever Tristan's goes,
there let Isolde go also.
There I shall follow him
in grace and faith."

Tristan turns to his friend Melot, who has betrayed him to King Marke, and challenges him. When Melot attacks with his sword, Tristan drops his guard and is run thru.

In Act III, Tristan, attended by his faithful servant Kurwenal, lies gravely wounded in the ruins of his ancestral home, Castle Kareol. In a delirium, he waits for Isolde's promised arrival; for King Marke has been told of the love potion and has sent Isolde to her beloved.

In a moment of calm, Tristan envisions his beloved's arrival...I've never heard this passage so beautifully sung:

Robert Dean Smith - Wie sie selig ~TRISTAN UND ISOLDE

"She sweetly,
bravely and gently
wanders across
the watery plains.
On soft waves
of blissful flowers,
she gently comes
ashore.
She smiles at me,
giving comfort and sweet peace,
she brings me
- at last - renewal.
Ah, Isolde! Isolde!
How lovely you are!"

The recording brings us much of Tristan's long scene, sung with an extraordinary mixture of poetry and madness by Mr. Smith.

Isolde arrives at last; Tristan dies in her arms, tenderly saying her name for one last time.

~ Oberon 

Young Concert Artists Gala ~ 2019

Author: Oberon

Thursday  May 16th, 2018 - This evening at Alice Tully Hall, Young Concert Artists marked the end of their 2018-2019 New York season with a gala concert that honored both the organization's founder, Susan Wadsworth, who is retiring, and long-time YCA friend and patron, Peter Marino.

Teddy Abrams was on the podium tonight, leading the Orchestra of St. Luke's in music by Ibert, Chausson, and Mendelssohn. Three very talented young musicians upheld the sterling reputation of Young Concert Artists, and organization which has - over the years - introduced and promoted an astounding number of first-class artists.

Flautist Anthony Trionfo (above, photo by Paul Shim) opened the concert with Jacques Ibert's Flute Concerto. Wearing a jacket woven from the Rhine Gold, Mr. Trionfo dazzled even before he began to play. Ibert's concerto, which premiered in 1934, was just the right vehicle for this charismatic flautist's golden tone and colossal technique, and his glittering jacket seemed made for the occasion.

In the opening Allegro, a jaunty first theme finds perfect contrast in a languid second theme. Reams of spot-on fiorature flowed with wit and sparkle from Mr. Trionfo's flute, whilst his body English kept us visually engaged. In the lyrical Andante, the flautist's impressive breath control set the long melodic line serenely above the accompaniment of the St Luke's cushioning strings. Mr. Trionfo ended the Andante on a remarkable sustained tone that hung endlessly on the air, evoking gentle sighs of admiration from the keenly attentive audience.. The longest of the work's three movements is the last: a jazzy Allegro scherzando laced with virtuoso solo cadenzas. This demanding finale is such a challenge for flautists that it became a test piece at the Paris Conservatoire. Would Mr. Trionfo have passed such a test? With flying colours, to be sure. Tonight's audience loved him. 

In striking contrast to the vibrancy of the Ibert, SooBeen Lee (above, photo by Paul Shim), a violinist from South Korea, offered Ernest Chausson's Poème. In this atmospheric work, the darkish glow of the orchestra (Chausson in a Wagnerian mood) underscores themes of longing and tenderness played with silken clarity and poetic nuance by Ms. Lee.

The deep, mysterious orchestral introduction features solo moments for oboe, clarinet, and flute. SooBeen Lee sustains a long tone, accompanied by the timpani; this leads to a pensive solo passage, and to a hymn-like statement from the strings. As the music increases in passion, the violin shines on high before a breathtaking descent.  Following ethereal phrases from Ms. Lee, the music turns cinematic. The autumnal horn sounds, and a series of shimmering trills from the soloist brings this haunting work to a close. Ms. Lee's performance was very warmly received by the audience.

To conclude the program, Nathan Lee (above, photo by Paul Shim) performed Mendelssohn's Piano Concerto #1. This young virtuoso, who hails from the state of Washington, began playing the piano at the age of six, and made his orchestral debut at the age of nine. Although he looks like a boy about to enter prep school, Mr. Lee is now 17, and has already built an impressive resumé. Displaying the assured artistry we would expect from musicians much further along in their careers, Mr. Lee's depth of feeling in the Andante (often playing with his eyes closed) and his nimble and dynamically nuanced Allegro work captivated the audience. 

From its opening orchestral agitato of rising chromatics, the pianist serves up his splendid opening statement; the music then slows for a lyrical piano solo. Horn calls precede a cadenza, during which a double-barrelled cellphone intrusion (it rang, and then a recorded message was clearly audible throughout the house) nearly derailed the performance. But Mr. Lee maintained his focus. In the ensuing Andante, his playing was expressive, magical, and abundantly gorgeous.

Turbulence marks the start of the concerto's concluding Molto allegro e vivace, the pianist commencing with cascades of notes, delivered with dazzling dexterity. The orchestral writing made me think at times of Offenbach. Mr. Lee's playing was marked by charming dynamics...and a sweet tug of rubato, judiciously applied.

As the concerto came to its brilliant conclusion, the audience went wild for Mr. Lee. Returning amidst an insistent standing ovation, the pianist offered an encore: Debussy's poetic "Beau soir", played with ravishing clarity. 

~ Oberon

Parsons Dance @ The Joyce ~ 2019

Above: Zoey Anderson of Parsons Dance

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday May 14th, 2019 - Re-connecting with Parsons Dance tonight was both a joy and a jolt; the jolt came from realizing that the roster of the Company has changed radically since I saw them perform in 2016. Only the sensational Zoey Anderson, Clive Barnes Award-winning blonde goddess, remains from the group as I remember them.

David Parsons has dedicated his 2019 Joyce season to the late, great choreographer Paul Taylor; it was as a charismatic star member of the Taylor Company that I first saw David Parsons dancing at Jacob's Pillow, lo! these many years ago. It was there, also, that I witnessed David's earliest choreographic creations.

This evening's program was very well-devised: it veered from the dark rites of Paul Taylor's Runes - in which David Parsons performed in 1981 as a member of the Paul Taylor Dance Company - to the colourful Nascimento, danced under Brazilian skies. The New York premiere of Trey McIntyre’s Eight Women was a definite winner, thanks - in part - to the songs of the inimitable Aretha Franklin that the choreographer chose, whilst David Parsons' Round My World exudes both lyricism and quirkiness in perfect measure (and it has a marvelous Zoe Keating score). The ever-fascinating Caught, one of the iconic danceworks of our time, is always great fun to experience...and to savour the buzz of disbelief from audience members seeing it for the first time.

Round My World is a David Parsons work for six dancers. Everything is circular: they dance in a circle and they circle one another, with their rounded port de bras extending the motif. Ms. Keating's cello-based music has a subtle undercurrent of Americana - an Appalachian lilt - to it, and the choreographer has devised three duets intermingled with ensemble passages, notably a sextet midway thru that might have been inspired by a country hoedown. The dancers in Round My World were Zoey Anderson, Justus Whitfield, Deidre Rogan, Shawn Lesniak, Henry Steele, and Katie Garcia. Few are the choreographers who constantly demand so much strength and stamina from his dancers as David Parsons does; his current roster do the music and the movement proud. Tonight, Round My World was simply mesmerizing.

Dancers Sasha Alvarez and Joan Rodriguez joined their colleagues for Trey McIntyre's Eight Women. Electrifying in its sass and sizzle, the dancing takes flight on a set of songs by Aretha Franklin. The Diva of Soul is heard in a hit parade of her classics: "Spanish Harlem", "Do Right Woman, Do Right Man", "I Say A Little Prayer", "The House That Jack Built",  "Natural Woman", and "All I Need to Get By". The dancers are so new to me that I couldn't single them out by name, but they all took to the sexy sway of the music, the stage-filling moves, and the sweeping lifts with tremendous flair and passion. To single out a highlight is difficult, but "The House That Jack Built", with its vibrant red lighting seemed to really get the audience worked up. Eight Women had the crowd shouting at the end.

Subtitled "secret writings for casting a spell", Paul Taylor's Runes is, I believe, the first Taylor work to be danced by Parsons Dance. To me it seemed like a perfect fit, in part because it's as unlike anything else in the Parsons repertoire as one could imagine, yet still feels "right". Furthermore, it represents a continuum of the Taylor tradition, a passing down thru generations, giving the Parsons troupe a sense of their heritage.

Runes was choreographed by Paul Taylor in 1981 to music by Gerald Busby. It opens with a silver moon drifting above the horizon, and a corpse onstage. Jennifer Tipton's atmospheric lighting sets the mood as an ancient clan carries on their primitive rituals. The movement is often stylized, with shades of Grahamian timelessness evoked. An air of mystery pervades, while patches of fur on the costuming suggest a possible link to the Druids.

Cathy McCann, an alumna of the Paul Taylor Dance Company who I saw dance often during her estimable career, has re-staged Runes for the Parsons Company. David's dancers responded with a committed and captivating performance of this enigmatic work. I was by now getting a grasp on who's who in the Parsons troupe: one outstanding passage was danced by Henry Steele, observed by a quintet of other dancers seated on the floor. Deidre Rogan and Joan Rodriguez were excellent in their duet, and the power and suppleness of Justus Whitfield and Shawn Lesniak were much admired. Sasha Alvarez and Katie Garcia were fine here, and shone ever-brightly in the evening's concluding Nascimento.

Zoey Anderson's performance of Caught might be described with the ever-popular word "amazing", but in this case, Zoey really does amaze us! In this fiendishly difficult solo - in which the dancer must execute most than 100 jumps whilst racing about the stage, and providing her own lighting cues - Zoey showed the technique, the glamour, and the sheer guts that have made her a star. A resounding success: the audience went nuts for her. And while it's true that Caught invariably creates a sensation, there was really something...triumphant...about Zoey's performance.

It's always a joy to see - and hear - Nascimento, the David Parsons work which ended the evening on the highest of high notes. Milton Nascimento's score is just one big delight; we are carried along by the composer's relaxed, distinctive music and the easy, seductive smoothness of the dance. 

And now, a shoutout of praise for Howell Binkley, who has been lighting David Parsons' work since forever. Tonight, Mr. Binkley illuminated the Parsons and McIntyre works in a way that was striking, unfussy, and musically adept. His artistry enhanced the evening moment by moment.

As the dancers turned away from us and walked into the Nascimento sunset, it felt good - despite all the woes of the world - to be alive.

Among the audience that packed The Joyce to the rafters tonight were many luminaries from the Gotham dance scene: Bettie de Jong, Laura Halzack, Christina Lynch Markham, and Kristin Draucker (all from the Paul Taylor Company), Jacqulyn Buglisi, Maria Ambrose, Bennyroyce Royon (my date!), Eric Bourne, Eoghan Dillon, Vivake Khamsingsavath, and of course David Parsons himself.

~ Oberon

LJD Rehearsal Gallery: Laura Di Orio & Craig Hall

Above: Laura Di Orio and Craig Hall rehearsing Lydia Johnson's NIGHT AND DREAMS; photo by Dmitry Beryozkin

~ Author: Oberon

On Wednesday May 8th, 2019, photographer Dmitry Beryozkin and I were invited to a studio rehearsal of Lydia Johnson's ballet NIGHT AND DREAMS. This work, set to lieder by Franz Schubert, will be on the program of Lydia Johnson Dance's upcoming New York season, June 5th - 7th, 2019, at Ailey Citigroup Theater. Ticket information here.

Craig Hall, the former New York City Ballet soloist -and currently a ballet master with that esteemed Company - will be making a guest appearance with Lydia's troupe this season, dancing in NIGHT AND DREAMS with LJD's Laura Di Orio. 

NIGHT AND DREAMS is an ensemble work into which passages of a lyrical adagio have been woven. The couple seem to dwell somewhere between the waking world and a twilight place of reverie where tenderness and quiet passion find expression.

Here are some of Dmitry's images from this rehearsal:

During the course of the rehearsal, the dancers sometimes referred to a video of the original production of NIGHT AND DREAMS. Above: LJD dancers Katie Lohiya, Malik Williams, with Craig in the foreground, Lydia, and Laura.

Craig, Lydia, Laura, Katie, and Malik at the end of the rehearsal.

~ Photos by Dmitry Beryozkin

Tichina Vaughn ~ Waltraute's Narrative

Tichina Vaughn - Götterdämmerung ~ Seit er von dir geschieden

"Since from thee Wotan turned away,
to battle he no longer sends us.
Dazed with fear, bewildered, aimlessly we ride.
Walhall's heroes are no longer greeted by War-Father.

Alone, without pause or rest,
as Wand'rer he swept through the world.
Home he came at last,
in his hand holding the spear-shaft's splinters:
a mortal hero had shattered it.

With a wordless sign,
He commanded Walhall's heroes to hew
the world-ash-tree into pieces.
The sacred stem at his command was riven,
and raised in a heap round about the hall of the blessed.
Then he summoned the host
and on his throne he took his place.

In dismay they assembled:
the hall was filled with his heroes, seated around him.

So sits he, speaking no word.
Enthroned, grave and silent,
the shattered spear-shaft he holds fast in his grasp;
Holda's apples he no longer tastes.
Around him, the failing gods sit silently.

Forth on quest from Walhall he has sent his ravens;
if with good tidings they return,
then forever shall smiles of joy
gladden the face of the god.

Round his knees cower we Valkyires;
he knows not of our anguish:
we all are consumed
by terror and never-ending fear.

Upon his breast, weeping, I pressed myself;
then his gaze softened:
he remembered, Brünnhilde, thee!
He closed his eyes, deeply sighing,
and as in a trance he spoke these words:

"If to the Rhinemaidens
Brünnhilde gives back the Ring,
from the curse's spell
the gods and the world shall be released!"

Oratorio Society ~ Verdi REQUIEM

Above: Giuseppe Verdi

Author: Oberon

Thursday May 9th, 2019 - Oratorio Society of New York presenting Verdi’s Messa da Requiem at Carnegie Hall. The performance was conducted by Kent Tritle, with soloists Elizabeth de Trejo, Raehann Bryce-Davis, Joshua Blue, and Adam Lau.

Verdi’s Messa da Requiem was first performed in Milan in 1874. The composer had written the famous Libera me in 1869 for a proposed requiem mass marking the death of Gioachino Rossini - for which several prominent composers each wrote individual movements. The premiere of this "Rossini Requiem" never took place, and it languished in obscurity until it was unearthed in 1988 by conductor Helmuth Rilling. I attended its US premiere performance at Avery Fisher Hall in 1989, conducted by Maestro Rilling. Surprisingly, it was not very interesting; much of the music was forgettable - except for Verdi's contribution.

The death of the Italian poet and humanist Alessandro Manzoni in 1873 prompted Verdi to re-work his Libera me as the final movement of his own setting of the Latin texts for the "Mass For The Dead", honoring Manzoni's memory. Verdi's Messa da Requiem is often referred to as a "sacred opera" and indeed this evening's performance at Carnegie Hall was perhaps the most "operatic" of the many live performances of the piece that I have experienced over the years.

Carnegie Hall was packed to the rafters tonight. The performance started late: the huge orchestra and chorus were seated onstage and eager to start, but nothing was happening; we wondered if one of the singers had taken ill. But at last, conductor Kent Tritle and the evening's four soloists took their places and, as the audience quietened, the performance began.

From its very quiet opening, this music casts a particular spell. The opening Requiem aeternam was hauntingly beautiful, and I must say I have never heard the layering of the choral voices so distinctively presented as tonight. 

One of my favorite moments in the score is the introduction of the solo voices; in turn, each intones the Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison and the listener immediately senses what kind of singing we'll be hearing during the ensuing 90 minutes. Tonight, in all honesty, none of the singers sounded good here: their voices seemed muffled, dry, edgy, woolly. My friend Adi and I felt our spirits sag: would we have to endure these unsorted voices all evening?

But as Maestro Tritle steered a steady (and swift) course, the four singers found their centers and the performance began to take on a great vividness. The conductor's forward impetus, and the excellent work of the chorus and orchestra, created a setting in which the vocal soloists could summon up both the spiritual and the human qualities of the music through vocal color and verbal inflection. Emotions were in play, and the Requiem has seldom sounded so operatic. Soon, we were hanging on every word and note.

Soprano Elizabeth de Trejo's silvery tone and well-projected high notes allowed her to sail over the massed chorus and orchestra forces in the concerted moments. In her solo and duet passages, she sang with intensity or reassuring calm as the texts suggest. One had the feeling of a Mozartean soprano singing this music; it worked for Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and Pilar Lorengar, and Ms. de Trejo's personal commitment to the score made it work for her tonight. She is a very individual singer, of unique timbre.

Bringing the Requiem's operatic aspects to the fore, mezzo-soprano Raehann Bryce-Davis was truly impressive. Recalling for me her great predecessor in this music, Florence Quivar, Ms. Bryce-Davis showed a voice of great warmth and power, with a dramatic thrust that summoned visions of Amneris or Princess Eboli. She and Ms. de Trejo were fascinatingly blended in their two duets - the Recordare and the Agnus Dei - as they achieved a successful melding of timbres that might at first have seemed incompatible. How lovely and touching these two duets sounded tonight. Elsewhere, Ms. Bryce-Davis made use of her dusky-rich chest voice, again making us aware that this is really an opera dressed in sacred vestments. This woman is a great communicator.

Tenor Joshua Blue sang with full "big lyric" tenor sound and a feeling of genuine sincerity. His two "arias" - the Ingemisco and the Hostias - were finely-molded, the voice ever warm and appealing. Mr. Blue's singing is of the type that blends beautifully with other voices whilst maintaining its individuality. 

Adam Lau's voice is not one of those big, booming basso instruments that are sometimes heard in this music; rather, he brings a sense of nobility and poetic expression to every passage. As the evening progressed, I found myself increasingly moved by Mr. Lau's ability to suffuse his music with a touching sense of humanity. His singing of the Confutatis was of particular value to the performence: great dynamic control and depth of feeling.

Viva Verdi! My notes abound in details of the performance: the cordial harmonizing and etched-in rubato of the two women in the Recordare; the restless longing that underscores the Lacrymosa; the violin "chill" at the start of Mr. Blue's melodious Hostias; the heavenly bliss expressed by the chorus in the middle section of the Sanctus; the trumpets ringing out from the balconies during the Dies irae; the silvery glow of Ms. de Trejo's "...transire ad vitam..." and her urgent "Tremens...factus...", the sublime beauty of the entire Lux aeterna; the hopeful plea of Mr. Lau's "...voca me cum benedictis...". I could go on and on. 

Above: a full-house standing ovation at the end of the performance, photo by Tim Dwight. To the conductor, soloists, chorus, and orchestra: Bravi tutti!

~ Oberon

Bruch & Strauss @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: the Labèque sisters, photographed by Brigitte Lacombe

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Saturday May 4th, 2019 - This evening's concert by The New York Philharmonic saw the return of Katia and Marielle Labèque to the stage of David Geffen Hall. Maestro Semyon Bychkov, for many years a musical collaborator with the Labèque sisters (from the podium, and even playing the 3rd piano in some concertos, like the Mozart) was on the podium once again for a performance of Max Bruch’s rarely heard Concerto for Two Pianos, Op. 88a. 

Completed in 1915, Bruch gave the work’s sole performing rights to Rose and Ottilie Sutro (above), American pianist-sisters he had met years earlier at the Berlin’s Royal Conservatory. Leopold Stokowski conducted the world premiere of the piece with the Sutros and the Philadelphia Orchestra just a year later. In 1917 the Sutro sisters again played the work with the NY Philharmonic, conducted by Josef Stransky, and that was the last the work was heard in NY. Unbeknownst to Bruch, the Sutro sisters took great liberties with the score, re-composing the concerto to suit their own needs, re-orchestrating it, etc., and went so far as to submitting their revised score for copyright with the Library of Congress.

Recomposing his piano concerto and copyrighting it as their own was the least terrible thing the Sutro sisters did to Bruch. Foolishly, Bruch sold the score of his most famous work, the G-minor Violin Concerto, to his publisher for a lump sum. But the Sutro sisters convinced him to give them the manuscript and they would sell it for him in America. The Sutros then sent Bruch some devalued and worthless marks and kept the score for themselves. Bruch died penniless in 1920; the stolen manuscript today resides at the Morgan Library in NYC.

The current performances of the 'Two Pianos' Concerto uses a reconstructed Bruch original score; reconstructed from Bruch’s autograph score found among Ottilie’s papers after her death by pianist Nathan Twinning in 1971. When Twinning and Martin Berkofsky recorded the work in 1973 with Antal Doráti and the London Symphony, it was the first time Bruch’s original work was heard.

The work begins with dramatic chords from the pianists, almost immediately echoed by the full orchestra. The concerto overall is quite big and blowsy; there is not much subtlety or soft playing. When it does happen, as it does for a few moments early in the first movement and during the lovely slow movement, it is ravishing, with the Labèques making every note sing. But the orchestra tends to dominate heavily, with the two pianos trying to rise above the tumult, yet mostly just contributing to the mass of impenetrable sound.

This can not be blamed on either the pianists, Maestro Bychkov or the orchestra. One may assume that the weight of the score is what the Sutros misguidedly tried to fix, but they failed in that. Contemporary reviews of the performances praise them for a valiant effort, but note their failures. This may be a work best heard on a recording, where the microphone can pick up the pianos and give them prominence a concert hall simply can not. The concerto is lush and Romantic and melodic, but it may be fairer to call it a symphony with two piano. Katia and Marielle Labèque deserve praise for keeping the piece alive (they have been performing it, with Maestro Bychkov, for many years, and they recorded it all together for the Philips label in 1990); they deserve praise for another valiant effort in the concert hall. Alas, maybe if Bruch had an opportunity to hear the work performed he would have revised the orchestration to allow the pianos room to breathe. But life never gave him that chance.

The Labèques did not leave the stage without being heard, however. As an encore they played a highly dramatic and emotional movement from Philip Glass’ Four Movements, which utilizes memorable music he used in the score to the film The Hours. Here, the Labèques overwhelmed the audience, which gave them a rowdy standing ovation.

For the second half of the program, Maestro Bychkov returned to the podium to conduct Richard Strauss’ great tone poem Ein Heldenleben. This work has received several high voltage performances over the past few months: I reviewed Mariinsky Orchestra and Valery Gergiev’s performance in November 2018 and Royal Concertgebouw and Daniel Harding’s take on it in February 2019.

Sadly, on this night Strauss’ technicolor score did not match the excitement of the other recent ,performances. There were some wonderful individual moments: the squawking and braying winds in “The Hero’s Adversaries,” meant to represent Strauss’ critics, was the loveliest squawking I’ve heard. At the time of the work’s premiere the critics were offended at Strauss’ aural insinuation; maybe if they heard themselves at this concert they would have been less angry. Frank Huang’s magical violin was beautiful as always in the extended solos of “The Hero’s Companion.” The entire brass section was in top form, too. And yet, something was missing: the tension, the drama and ultimately the catharsis of the work’s magnificent closing pages. I suppose sometimes even the best Heroes are not at their best.

~ Ben Weaver

The Orchestra Now @ Carnegie Hall

~ Author: Brad S. Ross

Thursday May 2nd, 2019 - A prayer of sorrow and for mercy was the theme of Thursday night’s concert at Carnegie Hall’s Isaac Stern Auditorium as The Orchestra Now and the Bard Festival Chorale treated the audience in a night of divine music.  The theme connecting this program was that of Psalm 130, known in Latin as “De Profundis,” which calls up its reader to, in brief, “trust in the Lord, for with Him there is mercy, And with Him is plenteous redemption.”  With this reverence in mind, the resulting concert was one of the most satisfying in recent memory.

The evening began with James Bagwell leading the Bard Festival Chorale in a performance of the first titular De Profundis - one by the great American composer Virgil Thomson.  The roughly four-minute piece was written in 1920 and later revised by the composer in 1951.  Thomson, whose musical career was largely made by arranging southern folk and hymn tunes, was evidently most at home here and his reverence for the subject-matter clear.

One setback of this otherwise fine opening performance was that the audience had not quite settled down by the time it had began.  Indeed, the relatively short work was plagued by the sounds of lingering chatter, doors slamming, and - despite written and spoken pleas from Carnegie Hall staff to silence all electronics - the garish sound of a cellphone ringing only a few seconds into the piece.  I would be lying if I said such brazen displays of audience rudeness didn’t, if only for an instant, sour my mood.

Following this opening, TŌN bassoonist Adam Romey stood up to speak not-too-briefly about the organization’s mission and the night’s program.  These pre-performance talks - written and delivered by the students in the form of personal essays - would become an unfortunate theme of the evening.  Informative and insightful as these sometimes were, they made the proceedings hard-going for a program already running over two-and-a-half hours.

Calling for the combined forces of the full orchestra, chorus, and the soprano Elizabeth de Trejo, Leon Botstein took up the baton next for a performance of De Profundis, Psalm 130, by the little-known Romantic composer Joachim Raff.  Raff, who was a student of the great Franz Liszt, composed the work in 1868, eschewing then-contemporary Romantic styles for an almost neo-Baroque approach.  Though apparently once popular in performance, De Profundis has fallen from the orchestral repertoire since the composer’s death, aside from the occasional performance in Europe, and was only tonight receiving its much-belated New York premiere.

It began with a wholesome instrumental prologue before the choir entered with a powerful and arresting exaltation of “De Profundis!”  This was followed by a stoic and somber “Si iniquitates,” a divine "Quia apud te" (curiously the only movement to take advantage of the soloist), and a warm and grounded “A custodia matutina,” which contained some of the most inviting and exalting moments of the entire piece.  The final movement, “Et ipse redimet,” began on a dramatic, fugue-like opening that built with triumphant energy before a dramatic pause and the final, grand exclamations of “amen!”  Botstein, whose musical interpretations have caused me much headache in the past, was well-suited for this admittedly anachronistic, but highly worthy musical revival.

TŌN violinist Drew Youmans then gave his thoughts on the next piece of the evening: the New York premiere of Lera Auerbach’s De Profundis, Violin Concerto No. 3.  Composed in 2015, the concerto is cast in three connected movements, lasting about 35 minutes.  Here, as in its world premiere, the performing soloist was the esteemed violinist Vadim Repin.

It began with a haunted solo on Repin’s violin as an extended cadenza, accompanied by fleeting whispers from the orchestra, set the work’s unsettling tone.  It was often characterized by angry percussion, volatile brass, and monstrous tutti bell tones, while other softer moments played out like a demented lullaby.

Despite much unique instrumental color, however, the one regard in which the concerto often fell short was development.  The music drifted and wafted like waves crashing up against the shore - a series of colorful episodes that never seemed to be taking the listener anywhere and seldom coalesced into a satisfying whole.  Rife with catchy modernist techniques and skilled playing as the performance was, this left me pining for a more coherent sense of structure:  something upon which I could latch as the musical experience unfolded.  Nevertheless, the audience seemed overall pleased by the work, many of whom stood for an immediate ovation as Repin, Botstein, and Auerbach, who was in attendance, stood to take their bows.

If I was feeling a bit winded by the time of trumpeter Anita Tóth’s pre-performance talk about the final piece on the program, all would be forgiven by the time they started playing; indeed, this final piece turned out to be the most exciting work of the entire evening.  This, of course, was Psalm 130: Du fond de l’abîme (De Profundis) for soprano, tenor, chorus, and orchestra, by the great French composer Marie-Juliette Olga "Lili" Boulanger.  Lili Boulanger, younger sister of the famed composition teacher Nadia Boulanger, completed Psalm 130: De Profundis in 1917 after three years of work.  It would be one of her last and, most upsettingly, only major finished works before her death at the tragically young age of 24 in 1918.  Nevertheless, in her short time on this Earth, she managed to compose some of the most evocative music of her time—and certainly this program.

Psalm 130: De Profundis begins on a somber instrumental opening with a low and menacing undercurrent.  The choir eventually joined the proceedings as the orchestra rumbled along, most ill-tempered, beneath it.  This tragic tone continued for some time with the occasional dollop of heavenly respite to remind us that it is, after all, a plea for redemption.  A great tutti climax erupted before de Trejo’s vocals joined, offering to the heavens a visceral and beseeching prayer.  The tenor Sean Fallen joined and a sublime duet carried the work as the orchestra provided an ethereal instrumental backdrop.  Moments of rapturous force erupted as the piece came to its climax, followed by an intimate and haunting supplication as the combined voices of “amen” echoed throughout the Isaac Stern Auditorium.

This was a composition to behold in concert and everyone, audience and performers alike, knew it.  As Carnegie Hall and TŌN wrap up their respective concert seasons, it’s greatly satisfying to hear them conclude on such a high point.  Bravo!

~ Brad S. Ross

Award-Winning Soprano

Above: Lisette Oropesa graces the cover of the current issue of Opera News

Tuesday April 7th, 2019 - This afternoon, I was honored to be present when Lisette Oropesa (above), who in April won the 2019 Richard Tucker Award, was announced as the winner of the 2019 Beverly Sills Award. The Sills Award was presented to Lisette by Diane Zola, Metropolitan Opera Assistant General Manager, at a private ceremony at the Opera House.

Following a champagne toast, Lisette made a charming speech. She and her husband, Steven Harris, then left for the airport to catch a flight to Milan, where Lisette will be making her debut at La Scala in Verdi's I MASNADIERI on June 18th, 2019. The MASNADIERI production travels to the Savonlinna Festival in July; and then, after performances of LA TRAVIATA in Greece and at the Arena di Verona, Lisette will be at The Met for Massenet's MANON and Verdi's TRAVIATA during the 2019-2020 season.

Lisette sings Amalia's great aria from I MASNADIERI here, recorded at a concert she gave at her alma mater, Louisiana State University, in January 2019. The role was written for the 'Swedish Nightingale', Jenny Lind.

~ Oberon