Oberon's Grove

Menino Sings Mozart!

 
"Heil, große Königin der Nacht!" Watch and listen here.

Joffrey Ballet Concert Group @ Ailey Citigroup

Above: from Bradley Shelver's RANDOM PEOPLE WITH BEAUTIFUL PARTS; photo by Andrew Fassbender for Rachel Neville Studios

Author: Oberon

Thursday February 16th, 2023 - The Joffrey Ballet Concert Group, under the artistic direction of Bradley Shelver, offered a pleasing program of four works tonight at the Ailey Citigrouo Theater. 

The opening work, The 12th ROOM, is choreographed by Mr. Shelver to music by Ezio Bosso, Andrea Falconieri, Philip Glass, and Ólafur Arnalds. The piece has a narrative quality, telling of how we find our place in the world; it's enigmatic, and beautifully lit by Serena Wong, with gorgeous costumes by Erica Johnston. 

A white door has stood on the stage since we took our seats. After a thunderously chaotic burst of sound, the door begins to drift about the space. Wearing a satiny emerald-green frock, Laura Severo Mendes moves warily along a path of light; as if in a dream, she is seeking something. At last she knocks on the door and is invited in, where a party is in progress. The women wear duplicates of her dress, but in different hues.

The Renaissance music for this gathering is by Andrea Falconieri, giving the party a rather formal feel. But the mood begins to change; there is shouting, and some very cool choreography for the partygoers. Suddenly we are in the ladies' room, where some of the girls have drunk too much or are are indulging in unnamed substances. 

Ms. Mendes leaves, and the floating door takes her back along the hallway. Behind the door, a couple (Breeanna Palmer and Jean Da Silva) dance an expressive pas de deux to music by Philip Glass which seems to focus on the aspects of a long-term relationship: I simply loved their rapport. Kneeling outside the door, Ms. Mendes eavesdrops.

Following the door's lead to another room, she knocks and enters, and finds her alter-ego (Joliana Canaan) whose companion (Daniele Campi) partners each of the women in turn. The work's ending seemed to leave things up in the air; in fact I was not quite certain that it was over.  

There followed an intermission during which the house lights were not turned up, leaving us in the dark; most everyone remained seated, unsure as to whether an actual break was happening, and not wanting to stumble about in the dimness. 

The program then continued with FALTER UPWARD, choreographed by Lindsay Grymes to a whimsical musical collage which runs the gamut from Franz Liszt to Dinah Washington, with Nils Frahm's "Improvisation for coughs and a cellphone" winning the prize for title-originality.

A jazzy solo becomes a duo, and then an ensemble; all the dancers wear fitted black trousers and yellow tops.  The music turns ominous - dark and pulsing - as a quartet, duet, and sextet follow. The community joins in a unison passage, stepping in place.

Now Franz Liszt's immortal Liebesträume is heard, the dancers responding with shuffling steps. A duet for two women ensues, and as the music becomes expansive, the full ensemble joins. This felt like a finale, and when it turned out to be a false finish, I was at first a bit put-off. But a single woman remained onstage, dancing so persuasively that I was immediately drawn in. As the music became increasingly reverberant, her struggle seemed palpable. The work ends in silence.

Bradley Shelver's second work on the program, RANDOM PEOPLE WITH BEAUTIFUL PARTS, is set to music by J S Bach. Here the woman are on pointe, executing demanding combinations with a contemporary flair. At the start, the dancers stand in small clusters in pools of light at each corner of the space. To the music of Bach, played by the Hillard Ensemble, a series of solos and duets ensues, set against a back panel awash with changing colours. The work's structure - and the passion, commitment, and grace of the dancers' artistry - made this balletic interlude highly enjoyable.

Above: from Eric Trope's GAZEBO DANCES; photo by Andrew Fassbender for Rachel Neville Studios

A second intermission, now with the lights on, preceded the evening's finale: choreographer Eric Trope's GAZEBO DANCES, which draws its title from John Corigliano's composition of the same name. This airy, cordial piece has a summertime feeling, with the costumes - in shades of red/orange/yellow - having the comfy look of poolside lounging pajamas.

The piece starts big, with a group dance in fast-paced combinations and stylized unison gestures. Quirky music leads to a sprightly second movement wherein the dancers seem to form a human carousel. Moody blues (featuring the oboe) then set the tone for a female solo danced by an exceptionally pretty young woman whose name I cannot tell you. As this section develops, more dancers joining, I was especially taken with a trio of nymphs in saffron yellow, who reminded me of Isadora's muses. 

Now the pretty solo girl returns alone in a spacious dance, further enhanced when a second girl joins her. As the two move about the stage, one senses a developing affection - perhaps sisterly, perhaps something else. They began to walk away from one another, but the attraction is strong, and they go off together: a small detail which left me feeling inexplicably happy. There follows an exuberant finale, everyone dancing beautifully.

Kudos to the three choreographers, and to their musical choices, which made for an evening as enjoyable to hear as to watch; and also to the dancers, who honored Terpsichore with their dedication and spirit.

~ Oberon

Rarity: Walter Berry as Wotan

It seems that the great Austrian bass-baritone Water Berry (above) only sang two complete performances of the WALKURE Wotan in the span of his career: one at Salzburg, and one at the Metropolitan Opera. At The Met, he started a second performance but withdrew after Act II.

Now Mr. Berry's 1967 Salzburg WALKURE has turned up (audio only) on YouTube. Tune in here.

CAST:

Siegmund: Ticho Parly  Wotan: Walter Berry  Hunding: Martti Talvela  Sieglinde: Gundula Janowitz  Fricka: Christa Ludwig  Brünnhilde: Nadezda Kniplova  Gerhilde: Liselotte Rebmann  Ortlinde: Carlotta Ordassy Waltraute: Ingrid Steger  Schwertleite: Lilo Brockhaus  Helmwige: Gerda Scheyrer  Siegrune: Barbro Ericson Grimgerde: Cvetka Ahlin  Roßweiße: Helga Jenckel

The Berlin Philharmonic is conducted by Herbert von Karajan at the Salzburg Festival on March 27th, 1967.

~ Oberon

Hubbard Street @ The Joyce

Above: from Amy Hall Garner's As The Wind Blows; photo by Michelle Reid

Tuesday February 14, 2023 - It's been a very long time since I last saw Hubbard Street Dance Chicago. Back in the 1980s, when I was living in Hartford, CT, we saw them often at Jacob's Pillow. The Company's founding father, Lou Conte, presented his own choreography alongside works by Claire Bataille, Lynne Taylor-Corbett, Margo Sappington, and Taylor disciples David Parsons and Daniel Ezralow. Then along came Twyla Tharp, who fashioned several masterpieces on the Company. But when, in 1998, I moved to New York City, I lost track of Hubbard Street...

...until tonight, when the Company opened their 2023 Joyce season with one of the most brilliant and engaging evenings of dance I have ever witnessed. 

Opening the program, Amy Hall Garner's As The Wind Blows begins in silence, with the dancers striking poses in silhouette. Using music by Carl Craig, Aaron Copland, Claude Debussy, and Francesco Tristan, the choreographer goes on to weave a dance tapestry that perfectly shows off the captivating movement qualities and distinctive personalities of the Hubbard Street dancers. 

Rich in ensemble passages, partnering motifs, and solo opportunities, Ms. Garner's choreography is fresh,  vibrant, and wonderfully musical; her work is a perfect showcase for the Hubbard Street dancers. I don't know the Company dancers well enough to match names to faces, but one who stood out in particular was Elliot Hammans, who I recall from his dancing with Cherylyn Lavagnino's company here in New York. Mr. Hammans (photo above) has developed a striking stage presence to match his gift for movement; in a sustained solo in As The Wind Blows, he found a perfect balance between angst and lyricism.

The whole of Ms. Garner's work was a great pleasure to watch; and a special bravo! to lighting designer Harrison Pearse Burke. As the curtain fell on this opening work, the first of the evening's big ovations erupted. 

Above: dancer Abdiel Figueroa Reyes; portrait by Michelle Reid

Next came choreographer Kyle Abraham's electrifying solo Show Pony, set to Jlin's "Hatsheput". Clad in gleaming silver, the ultra-charismatic Abdiel Figueroa Reyes seemed half-robot, half knight in shining armor. Dan Scully's lighting design was perfect for this work, wherein the dancer sometimes seemed to preen and revel in his own allure. At times, this solo reminded me of David Parsons' ever-amazing Caught in its mixture of showmanship and personal pride. A massive wave of applause and screams greeted Mr. Reyes as he came forward to bow at the end.  

The stage was then stripped down to the bare back wall for the amusing/touching Spenser Theberge duet Ne Me Quitte Pas. Dancers Jacqueline Burnett and Elliot Hammans, in casual practice clothes, are warming up for a rehearsal run-thru. After a false start, the voice of Nina Simone fills the space with the Jacques Brel song. The duet shows us the creative process as the dancers work together on partnering details, but it also speaks of their personal relationship to one another. Intimate, and responding touchingly to Ms. Simone's singing, this work was given a lyrical feeling by Ms. Burnett and Mr. Hammans, with just a hint of gentle wit and subtle regret.

The iconic Ohad Naharin B/olero employs a spine-tingling Isao Tomito rendering of the classic Ravel score for synthesizer. Dancers Michelle Dooley (above) and Alexandria Best (below) comprise the entire cast. (Their photos are by Michelle Reid).

This B/olero, as with Pascal Rioult's take on the piece, is a real workout for the two dancers, not just in space-covering movement but also in timing and synchronization. Mlles. Dooley and Best are standouts in a Company of super-movers; their stylized, in-place gestural passages were vividly unified, and then the two women would break into free-flowing dance about the stage, whilst maintaining a connection thru their musicality and energy. What a delicious dance treat Mr. Naharin has given us, and how superbly these two dancers served  up.  

The evening ended on the highest of high notes with Aszure Barton's magnificent BUSK. The choreographer draws on a wide range of music which spans the decades from Camille Saint-Saëns to the blind poet Moondog's "All Is Loneliness Here for Me" and into the 21st century...and what a symphony of sound Ms. Barton has devised to give BUSK its memorable springboard.

All clad in baggy, bulky black - trousers, coats, and hoods - the dancers form a mysterious community of monk...or misfits? The costuming again brought Parsons to mind (The Envelope, but without the sunglasses). And the lighting, by Nicole Pearce, was again a key element (and I loved the disco ball, though it could have been brought into more prominent play).

But it's Ms. Barton's sense of structure, and of a grand design, which makes BUSK a staggering success. Her skill in deploying movement groups, of having the stage feel crowded one moment and then suddenly finding just a single dancer in the space, her showing of the community's moods - from fear to wonderment - all have a Balanchinian feeling of inevitability, meshed with hints of wit and irony.

The dancers were simply marvelous to behold - Mr. Hammans was again stellar, and Shota Miyoshi caught my eye frequently with his fluent moves. It's a grand Company, and tonight's choreographers gave them danceworks worthy of their talent, dedication, and generosity of spirit. An exhilarating evening!

~ Oberon

There Is Nothing Like A Dame

Dame Felicity Lott ~ Poulenc ~ La courte paille ~ R Vignoles piano ~ BBC 1996

Salonen/McGill @ NY Philharmonic

Above: soloist Anthony McGill and composer/conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen performing Salonen's “Kínēma” with the NY Philharmonic; photo by Chris Lee

Author: Ben Weaver

Friday February 10th, 2023 - The New York Philharmonic in a Friday matinee concert; Esa-Pekka Salonen made a welcome return to the orchestra, both as conductor and composer. Looking a bit unkempt and cranky, his introduction of his 2021 composition kínēma for Solo Clarinet and String Orchestra (receiving its US Premiere at these performances) was full of charm, humor, and self-deprecation.

Salonen composed kínēma in 2021 on commission by the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra. He used music he left unused for a film score (hence the title, derived from the ancient Greek word that gives us “cinema.”) Consisting of 5 movements - or scenes - it is a highly lyrical composition and it gives the Philharmonic’s magnificent principal clarinetist, Anthony McGill, many opportunities to exhibit his supreme talents. Salonen discussed in his pre-performance talk how much he admires the clarinet as an instrument because of its huge range of sound and colors. He definitely exploits all the ranges through the work, and McGill conquered every obstacle with ease. 

kínēma's first scene, Dawn, depicts a languid and quiet sunrise. Since film is inspiration here I immediately saw the opening frames of Giuseppe Tornatore’s “Cinema Paradiso,” with the gently flowing curtain in the window. Of course that had Ennio Morricone’s immortal score, but the image immediately rose in my mind as Salonen’s kínēma - with its gentle strings and clarinet - began. Salonen points out that there is no traditional musical development in any of the movements; he thinks of them as just “spaces” where one can simply exist briefly and then leave. The third scene, Pérotin’s Dream, has a jazzy, fun bounce, with McGill - who strikes a dashing physical presence on the stage - dancing along with the music, even as he scales every imaginable register of the clarinet. J.D. In Memoriam, an elegy Salonen dedicated to a friend, is deeply moving, yet unsentimental. A gentle and lovely “duet” between McGill and principal violist Cynthia Phelps was mesmerizing. The closing Return was an rollicking, dazzling good time. For the work’s final phrase Salonen quotes the first movement; he points out in an interview that this is a very Brucknerian technique. Once again, what else can one say about the great musician Anthony McGill is. The technical challenges - and here there are many - are hardly even worth mentioning because he conquers them without breaking a sweat. It’s his musicality, heart-felt embrace of the music and its ever-shifting moods, while easily clearing every hurdle, that the audience appreciates the most. 

kínēma was actually the second work on the program, which opened with Luciano Berio’s lively transcription of Luigi Boccherini’s Ritirata from the famous 1870 String Quintet. Boccherini’s original Quintet is a shockingly “modern” work, so one can easily see why it appealed to someone as musically caustic as Berio. (Although Berio made quite a few transcriptions of music of Bach, Schubert, etc.) The Quintet’s popularity in its own day led Boccherini to make a number of transcriptions for other instruments, and it’s these that Berio took and superimposed over one another in 1975 to create Four Original Versions of Ritirata notturna di Madrid (Nocturnal Retreat from Madrid) by L. Boccherini, Superimposed and Transcribed for Orchestra. Depicting a marching band making its way through the streets of Madrid to announce a curfew, the work marvelously depicts the band first heard in the distance, then slowly rising in volume as it approaches your window, and then once again retreating into silence as they turn the corner and continue to make their way to the next neighborhood. The work’s memorable, bouncy tune - one of the most famous melodies in Western art music - works its way through the orchestra; the players seemed to love every minute of it, as did the audience.

Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92 - composed in 1811-12 - is one of his most joyous works. At its premiere, the nearly deaf Beethoven’s conducting seems to have been highly irregular and wild, but his antics were not distracting enough that the music did not make an enormous impression upon the audience, which demanded the second movement be encored. A work Wagner famously called the “apotheosis of dance,” it does not contain a single traditional dance, and yet it the whole thing is a ballet as thrilling and surprising as anything Beethoven ever composed. It opens with a grand, stately introduction, as if you were entering a ballroom. Soon everyone is swirling at a breakneck pace. The famous second movement, Allegretto, has always been a bit of Schrödinger’s movement, equally tragic and romantic. In popular culture it’s been used for funerals and love-making. Maestro Salonen did not dwell on the darkness; sounds like he comes on the side of a dance. The Presto is back to the unmistakable territory of giddiness and the final movement has always seemed to be a contest between conductors and orchestras: who can play this fastest? The dizzying final moments of the work are really just different levels of exhilaration. I wait for the day an orchestra plays it so fast that we all get lifted off our seats. Curiously Maestro Salonen and the Philharmonic did not attempt to launch us into space, the pace was slightly slower than rocket ship, but it was exhilarating nonetheless. It always is.

~ Ben Weaver

Daniele Rustioni/Met Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

Above: conductor Daniele Rustioni leading The Met Orchestra at Carnegie Hall; photo by Chris Lee

Author: Oberon

Saturday February 11th, 2023 - The Met Orchestra performing music of Bartók, Mussorgsky, and Stravinsky at Carnegie Hall. Bass-baritone Ryan Speedo Green was the evening's vocal soloist, with conductor Daniele Rustioni making his Carnegie Hall debut on the podium.

Béla Bartók's Concerto for Orchestra opened the concert. Of this epic, sprawling piece, the composer wrote: "The general mood of the work represents, apart from the jesting second movement, a gradual transition from the sternness of the first movement and the lugubrious death-song of the third, to the life-assertion of the last one."  He called it a concerto rather than a symphony because it affords numerous opportunities for the individual instrumental voices; these were brilliantly seized upon tonight by the Met players, who displayed tonal allure and technical surety of a very high level. At times, the music felt like an opera without singing.

From its deep opening theme, the first movement is strongly influenced by Hungarian folk music. We hear from the forlorn flute, harmonizing trumpets, searing violins, the thudding bass drum. The music gets lively, with the oboe, clarinet, and harp each having their say. Fascinating textures tickle the ear before a big and brassy finale is reached. A drumbeat heralds the Scherzo, which takes the form of a witty march. Animated passages for the basses, a brass chorale, droll woodwinds, and swirling harps delight us until things wind down to a solitary drum note.

The third movement is an elegy which begins with an eerie, misterioso feeling, eventually turning grand. A rich passage for the massed violas draws a counter-song from the violins. The music develops a cinematic quality which is then becalmed to a simple trill from the flute.There follows an intermezzo which begins rather drearily but gets interesting when the viola and timpani engage one another. The violins sing, the clarinet dances, cymbals and gong speak up.

Horn calls usher in the bustling dance of the work's final Presto. In this rather overlong movement, Bartók throws everything but the kitchen sink at us. Themes spring up and vanish, and several possible endings seem to loom before us, but each turns out to be a cul-de-sac.

At last, the composer makes an ending, and the audience erupted in a joyous ovation. Maestro Rustioni was rightfully hailed, and he passed among the players, having them rise as individuals or in sections to receive much-deserved acclaim.   

Following the interval, Ryan Speedo Green (above, in a Chris Lee photo) joined the orchestra for Modest Mussorgsky's Songs and Dances of Death, in the Shostakovich orchestration (which is dedicated to Galina Vishnevskaya). I have greatly enjoyed Mr. Green's recent Met performances as Varlaam in BORIS GODUNOV (2021) and as Truffaldino in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS (2022); tonight, he triumphed in the really big sing Mussorgsky provides with the Songs and Dances of Death.

The bass-baritone's towering presence is matched by the grandeur of his voice and style; his performance had great authority, for he filled the venerable hall with both splendid sound and a deep sense of humanity.

The opening Lullaby begins as a dark lament; the music becomes more animated, awash with anxiety, as the singer veers from dramatic outbursts to intense subtlety. After a brooding coda, the biting final notes sting like piercing thorns.

The second song, Serenade, became a lyric drama in Mr. Green's presentation. He really feels the music, and he draws us right into it. It is a restless song, with the pulse of a drum, and the singer's expressiveness engaged us totally, rising to a spectacularly powerful, hall-filling climax. 

Above: Ryan Speedo Green & Daniele Rustioni; photo by Chris Lee

The orchestra lends an ominous feeling to the poignant Trepak, which turns into a dancelike affair; here Mr. Green's voice and personality were again captivating. When the song turns lyrical, the sighing tuba injects a touch of wit; then the singer simply bowled us over yet again at the conclusion.

By now, Mr. Green had Carnegie Hall under a spell; abbeted by the marvelous Maestro and the dazzlingly coloristic playing of the Met musicians, the singer embarked on the militant The Field Marshal with great authority. The music turns reflective but soon the march strikes up again, building to a full stop. Mr. Green then summoned a tsunami of sound to clinch his success. An epic ovation ensued, with the singer returning to face the roar of the delighted crowd.

Above: Firebird, by Marc Chagall

After the interval, Maestro Rustioni and the Met players enthralled us with Igor Stravinsky's Firebird Suite (1919 version); for me, this is the composer's most brilliant score. I fell in love with this music through many viewings of the New York City Ballet's gorgeous Chagall production, wherein the painter's richly coloured vision aligns so perfectly with Stravinsky's kozmically beautiful score. 

Tonight, Maestro Rustioni drew ravishing playing from everyone onstage, with the inimitable David Chan in the concertmaster's chair. The solo voices - oboe, flute, horn - stood out, and the bassoon solo in the Berceuse was pure magic. As the massive sonic textures of the Stravinsky finale filled the Hall, the music seemed to be coursing thru the blood of Maestro Rustioni; his Carnegie Hall debut was a fine success, and I think we have much to look forward to from him in the seasons to come.

Performance photos by Chris Lee, courtesy of Carnegie Hall.

~ Oberon

Verdi REQUIEM: NY Phil ~ 1980 Telecast

Above: one of my longtime favorites, mezzo-soprano Bianca Berini

I vividly recall watching this performance of the Verdi REQUIEM when it was telecast in 1980 as part of the Live from Lincoln Center series. The soloists are Montserrat Caballe, Bianca Berini, Placido Domingo, and Paul Plishka, with Zubin Mehta conducting the New York Philharmonic and the Westminster Choir.

Watch and listen here.

Borodin's 2nd Symphony

A performance of Alexander Borodin's 2nd symphony by the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, conducted by Karel Mark Chichon.

Watch and listen here. 

YCA Presents Violinist Risa Hokamura

Wednesday February 8th, 2023 - Young Concert Artists presenting violinist Risa Hokamura (above, photographed by Kendall Redmon) in her New York debut recital, with pianist Albert Cano Smit, at Merkin Hall.

Ms. Hokamura opened the evening with Eugène Ysaÿe's Sonata No. 3 in D-Minor, “Ballade”, for solo violin. Her timbre has an appealing texture, and she can cover a vast dynamic range, from steely power to whispered pianissimi. From the sonata's poignant opening, she moved with marvelous control into the virtuosic passages, then on to some shivering, skittering motifs, to a dazzling finish. The audience seemed captivated by her playing, responding with vigorous applause.

Returning to the stage with pianist Albert Cano Smit (above, in a Chris Lee photo), Ms. Hokamura embarked on a stunning reading of Sergei Prokofiev's Sonata No. 1 in F-Minor, Op. 80, with the towering Mr. Smit in complete command at the keyboard.

The pianist opens the piece with a deep, brooding passage, to be joined by the violin in a sorrowful mood. Veering from this dirge-like start, Ms. Hokamura takes up a melancholy folksong while Mr. Cano Smit's  playing evokes the sound of tolling bells in the piano's deepest bass octave. As the pianist's playing takes on a ghostly aspect, the violinist plays pianissimo slithering scales, once described by Prokofiev as "the sound of wind in a graveyard". The movement ends with some eerie staccati.

The ensuing Allegro brusco features insistent hammering from Mr. Cano Smit and slashing attacks from Ms. Ms. Hokamura. Then things get ironically waltzy, until reaching a full stop. The music then passes thru various mood swings, by turns melodious and animated, before reaching a big, vibrant theme.

But then the unexpected happened: Ms. Hokamura stopped playing and announced that she has broken a string. She rushed offstage to make repairs; returning, she and Mr. Cano Smit picked up where they has left off, quickly re-establishing the mood and taking us to the movement's searing finish.

In the Andante, the players exchange delicate scale figurations and trills with a sense of the ethereal before taking up a gorgeous theme, reminding me of the composer's Opus 19/The Dreamer, so familiar from the magical Jerome Robbins ballet. A sense of longing develops, the music turning sweet and high, awash with tenderness. The players have established an incredible atmosphere, lingering before descending to the depths. With hushed trills, the music falls silent.

The lively finale develops a rondo feeling, surging thru changing key signatures to a kind of edgy lyricism, laced with folkish plucking from Ms. Hokamura. Things sail along blithely until Russian melancholy takes hold: the music slows to a recurrence of the "wind through the graveyard" mood; the sonata ends in a mood of introspection. Ms. Hokamura and Mr. Cano Smit were heartily saluted by the crowd for their brilliant paying.

Music by the contemporary Japanese composer Toshio Hosokawa opened the concert's second half: his Elegy for solo violin brought me back to memories of the composer's fascinating opera THE RAVEN, given here in New York by Gotham Chamber Opera in 2014.

Elegy opens with Ms. Hokamura playing sustained tones with a slightly gritty feeling; developing, the music can feel dramatic and edgy one moment, then super-soft and shining the next. A slow, rising passage mixes hushed trills and tremelos with sustained notes and gentle murmurings. Throughout, the violinist displayed exceptional control and exquisite artistry.

In Ernest Chausson's beloved Poème, Op. 25, the music rises from the depths of the piano to a pensive theme which turns a bit restless as the violin spins out log phrases. Then the rapture arises: the music, by turns lilting and passionate, features huge outpourings from the keyboard and rising violin motifs, decorated with trills.

Holding to the French repertory, Ms. Hokamura and Mr. Cano Smit concluded their program with the wonderful Introduction & Rondo Capriccioso, Op. 28, by Camille Saint-Saëns. A march-like beat is established, and the violin takes up a familiar theme. Mr. Cano Smit's playing takes on a feeling of grandeur, and Ms. Hokamura's lilting melody sings forth. Now the piano takes over the time-honored theme, decorated by violin flourishes. Things speed up; fanciful fiorature from both players carries the piece to a brilliant conclusion.

A lovely setting of "Estrellita" by Manuel Ponce made for a charming encore, leaving Ms. Hokamura and Mr. Cano Smit facing a standing ovation from the Merkin Hall crowd - a crowd that included two stellar violinists: Cho-liang Lin, and the beauteous Bella Hristova.

Above, after the concert: Albert Cano Smit and Risa Hokamura; photo by Kendall Redmon

~ Oberon