Oberon's Grove

Christa Ludwig: Immolation Scene

Christa Ludwig - Immolation Scene - GOTTERDAMMERUNG - Heinrich Hollreiser cond

Truls Mørk ~ The Philharmonia Orchestra

Above: cellist Truls Mørk, in a Johs Bøe portrait

~ Author: Oberon

Monday March 11th, 2019 - The evening after their triumphant Bruckner 7th, the Philharmionia Orchestra were back onstage at Devid Geffen Hall where Esa-Pekka Salonen's Cello Concerto, performed by Truls Mørk, was the centerpiece of the concert; this was part of the Lincoln Center's Great Performers series. The program was conducted by Maestro Salonen, and further included works by Sibelius and Stravinsky. It was an outstanding performance in every regard.

The evening opened with Sibelius's The Oceanides ('Ocean Nymphs'). This tone poem was composed in 1914, on a commission from two wealthy American patrons, for performance at the Music Festival in Norfolk, Connecticut. The composer later crafted a new version of the score, drawing on some of the original thematic material. It is thought that the revision was inspired by a long sea voyage the composer had taken around that time. The music, full of chiaroscuro effects, evokes the fathomless, shifting ocean currents and the play of sunlight on the water's surface.

From duetting flutes to the deep blue of the Philharmonia's splendid basses - and with some notable passages for the oboe - the Philharmonia musicians gave us much to savour. The orchestra's blended sound, as Ben Weaver noted in their Bruckner 7th, is truly organ-like. 

The Salonen Cello Concerto, composed in 2017, was premiered by Yo-Yo Ma, who is the work's dedicatee. It calls for a vast orchestra, including fascinating use of the celesta and harp, a prominent part for conga drums - played centerstage tonight - and live electronics. Truls Mørk gave a masterful performance of the demanding solo cello music.

In three movements, the concerto commences with dense music, and a sense of longing. The first cello solo has a pensive air. The harp and celesta are introduced, playing dreamlike modulations. Mr. Mørk's tone, which he can manipulate from mellow to astringent, showed an emotional connection to the music; his playing was at once thoughtful and spontaneous. The harp and celesta pairing continues to cast a spell, with solos from flute, oboe, and clarinet woven into the textures. A passage for cello, harp, and celesta has a shining quality; and then things become more animated, with the horn sounding forth. The solo cello line goes on the ascent, with building intensity. Then the passion subsides sublimely to a long fade-away.

A big burst of sound kicks off the second movement, with bells and xylophone. The music has a curiously oceanic flavour, linking it in my mind to the Sibelius. The solo cello rises soulfully from the depths, Mr. Mørk's mastery of dynamics to the fore, right down to a gossamer whisper of a pianissimo. Later, the cellist lets his sound get woozy; deep flute birdsong heralds some eerie 'music of the spheres'. Long, sighing tones from the cello morph into the cries of ancient birds; the entire orchestra takes up this motif, seemingly enhanced electronically. Visions of a seascape at land's end rise up, and Mr. Mørk has a final solo.

The drummer now takes his place opposite the cellist. Mr. Mørk's buzzy sounds mix with the calypso drums giving an exotic feel, to which the maracas add zest. The harp commences, with the cello in a flurry of sawing and plucking. Cellist and drummer stir up a big rhythm, with emphatic timpani, screaming flutes, swirling clarinets, and urgent plucking from the strings. Cello and drums play a rhythmical duet, sort of a lavish cadenza. The harp and celesta re-appear and the cellist races up and down scales; then, of a sudden, the music ceases and the illusive sound of birds crying fills the hall, slowly evaporating into air.

The concerto was excitedly applauded by the large audience: cellist and drummer won deserved cheers, as did the composer/conductor. A solo bow for Mr. Mørk had me shouting bravos, and there was an added call when the audience wouldn't quit applauding. Great, celebratory atmosphere.

Stravinsky's The Firebird brought the evening to a magnificent close. Maestro Salonen (above, in an Andrew Eccles photo) and his players gave us a technicolor immersion with their rendering of this dazzling score, which highlights the composer's imaginative skill in orchestration at every turn. Visions of Balanchine and Chagall danced thru my head continually as the Philharmonia players followed Maestro Salonen's imaginary magic wand in a performance alive with shimmer and glow.

Concertmaster Zsolt-Tihamér Visontay, oboist Tom Blomfeld, clarinetist Mark van de Wiel, and the golden flute of Samuel Coles made tonally glamorous contributions to the music, as did the horns and - near the end - the bright summons of the solo trumpet from the Hall's balcony. It was an intoxicating musical experience - especially in the sweet softness of the Berceuse - and a thunderous roar of appreciation filled the hall at the end.  

~ Oberon

Philharmonia Orchestra ~ Bruckner 7th

Above: Maestro Esa-Pekka Salonen, photo by Benjamin Ealovega

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Sunday March 10th, 2019 - Though Anton Bruckner had been composing music for many decades, his first great success came with the Symphony No. 7 in E-minor in 1884 when he was already 60. In part the success may have been delayed so long because Bruckner embraced Wagner’s musical language and powerful industry critics like Eduard Hanslick found that unforgivable.

Bruckner had already dedicated his Symphony No. 3 to Wagner (and Wagner expressed his admiration for the work). In 1882, almost a year into the composition of the 7th, Bruckner attended the premiere of Parsifal in Bayreuth and shortly thereafter wrote that “One day recently I came home and felt very sad. The thought crossed my mind that before long the Master would die, and then the C-sharp-minor theme of the Adagio came to me.” 

The second movement, that Adagio, is the central movement of the Symphony, with its noble main theme played by the strings, is one of Bruckner’s most remarkable compositions. The Philharmonia Orchestra, with conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen (visiting David Geffen Hall on this Sunday afternoon), made this singular piece of music sound like it was played by an organ. The rich and deep sonorities and waves of sounds, strings and brass perfectly balanced, sounded other-worldly. At the end of the movement, Bruckner introduces four Wagnerian tubas into the symphonic repertoire: he was inspired to do it after the movement had already been completed when he heard in 1883 that, as he had feared, Wagner had died. Bruckner added the coda - a Wagnerian brass chorale - as a tribute to his beloved “Master.” The Philharmonia’s four dedicated Wagnerian tubists played majestically under Salonen’s baton, making the climax of the movement a worthy tribute to a musical genius that mixes grief with triumph.

Maestro Salonen’s control over the entire proceedings were faultless. His sense of structure of Bruckner’s often unwieldy works was unerring. Every build and hesitation, from the barely audible opening bars of the symphony to its triumphant brass fanfare finale, were part of a great whole. The tempos never dragged, but the forward momentum never felt rushed either. The Scherzo was rhythmically sharp and the Trio a moving reprieve. The playful opening of the final movement gradually and believably transitioned to a thrilling brass-driven conclusion.

The audience roared for an essentially perfect performance and this was one of the few times I’ve witnessed a legitimate nearly-universal standing ovation (as opposed to some in the audience standing and then people behind them being forced to stand in order to see the stage.) Everyone was on their feet for maestro Salonen and the Philharmonia. Alas, a lengthy standing ovation and 5 curtain calls did not result in an encore. Maybe perfection is best left to stand on its own.

~ Ben Weaver

Nina Stemme as Aida

Above: Luciana D'Intino as Amneris and Nina Stemme as Aida, from a performance at Zurich in 2006

~ Author: Oberon

It pays to carefully peruse the DVD shelves at the Library of the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center: you never know what you will find there. The other day, I came upon a performance of AIDA from Zurich 2006 with quite a stellar cast, conducted by Adam Fischer.

The curiosity here is Nina Stemme's role debut as Aida; the soprano, whose operatic debut in 1989 was as Cherubino, and who competed at Cardiff Singer of the World in 1993, sang roles like Mimi, Rosalinda, and Butterfly before moving into the great dramatic parts that are nowadays so identified with her: Elektra, Isolde, and the Brunnhildes. In 2018, Ms. Stemme was awarded the Birgit Nilsson Prize.

The Zurich production, by Nicolas Joel, sets the action in the latter 19th century when Britain, France, and the Ottoman Empire all occupied Egypt. Thus we see the men of the cast in 'imperial' military uniforms and the women in elaborate bustled gowns, forever fanning themselves. The basic set looks like the waiting room of a stained glass railway station, with high 'palm' columns. In the Triumphal Scene, the Ethiopian prisoners are brought on in cages: very timely.

The filming of the action includes some very interesting camera angles, but the DVD often annoyingly uses split-screen effects showing what members of the orchestra are doing while the characters onstage are singing.

Ms. Stemme (above, with Salvatore Licitra as Radames in the Nile Scene) looks truly beautiful as Aida. With her long, softly-curled hair and attractive eyes, she brings great vulnerability to the part. A graceful mover onstage, Ms. Stemme's acting is wonderfully detailed, her facial expressions mirroring each subtle shift in the character's state of mind. She is also the best-dressed slave of all time.

Vocally, aside from a rather unstable high-C in "O patria mia", the soprano is everything you want in this music: the voice is clear, pliable, and she can alternately float or power thru as the music demands. In the past couple of years, the Stemme voice has become quite squally - understandable, considering the hard use of her demanding repertory - so it is especially lovely to hear her as Aida when the sound had a youthful glow.

Salvatore Licitra, the plucky tenor who was taken from us far too soon, sings with his signature generosity and plenty of Italianate ping. Short of stature, and clearly savouring each chance to deploy his ardent spinto sound, the tenor is endlessly endearing. In the Triumphal Scene, his voice cuts thru the ensemble with passionate fervor. In the years that came after this AIDA, I heard Licitra in several roles at The Met, where he could be maddeningly uneven. While I was working at Tower Records, he came in the store twice and was adorably charming and eager to chat.

Günther Groissböck, now a firm favorite among the basso ranks, is the King, and two veterans - Juan Pons and Matti Salminen - are Amonasro and Ramfis respectively.

Juan Pons (above, with Ms. Stemme) was always a favourite of mine, especially as Tonio in PAGLIACCI. In this performance, he is in very fine voice, his singing full of both drama and a wonderful feeling of humanity.

Looking imposingly rotund, Matti Salminen (above) is an effortlessly sonorous Ramfis. 

Above: Luciana D'Intino as Amneris, Nina Stemme as Aida

Although it was Stemme as Aida who piqued my curiosity about this performance, it's the great Italian mezzo-soprano Luciana D'Intino who walks away with top honors. D'Intino sang only six performances at The Met - two each of Eboli, Amneris, and Azucena - between 2005 and 2008. They were iconic interpretations of these great Verdi roles.

Here, in the Zurich DVD, she is simply thrilling. Her voice is of luxuriant beauty, from its golden high range down to the classic Italianità of her commanding chest tones. Everything is both impeccably musical and suffused with passion.

It is in the great Judgement Scene scene that Ms. D'Intino raises the level of her already-magnificent interpretation to something even grander. Running the full gamut of emotions from hopeless love to desperation, to remorse, and - finally - fury, she uses the voice with uncanny skill to paint a full portrait of the haughty princess brought down to the depths of despair. She crowns the scene with a sustained A-natural of remarkable clarity and force.

As the tomb closes upon Aida and Radames, united in death, D'Intino's velvet-toned "Pace..." is a final benediction.

~ Oberon

Brünnhilde's Plea

Above: Gertrude Grob-Prandl

With the return of Wagner's RING Cycle to The Met (better a tedious production than none at all), favorite scenes and themes from the operas are continually running thru my mind.

One of the great passages comes in Act III of DIE WALKURE where Brünnhilde, having disobeyed a direct order from her father Wotan, king of the gods, is to be punished: she will be put under a spell of sleep on the Valkyrie's Rock, to be awakened and claimed by any man who finds her.

The distraught Brünnhilde begs Wotan to surround the Rock with fire, so that only a man of great courage may pass thru the flames and win her. She already has in mind who this man will be.

It's always good to hear a Brünnhilde with a prodigious top register in this music:

Joseph Hermann and Gertrud Grob-Prandl ~ WALKURE scene - Buenos Aires 1950

"This one thing
you must allow me!

Destroy your child,
who kneels before you!
Trample on your favourite,
crush the girl...
let all trace of her body
be destroyed by your spear!

But do not be so cruel as to
condemn her to vilest disgrace.

At your command, let a fire blaze up!
Round the rock let it burn
with dazzling flames!
Let its tongues flicker,
its teeth devour
any coward who rashly dares
to approach the fearsome rock!"

A Happy Excursion @ The New York Philharmonic

Above, this evening's soloists at The New York Philharmonic: Yo-Yo Ma (cello) and Wu Man (pipa)

~ Author: Oberon

Friday March 8th, 2019 - The US premiere of a new (and wonder-filled) concerto for pipa and cello by Zhao Lin was the centerpiece of this evening's concert at The New York Philharmonic, book-ended by works of two Russian masters.

To open the program, conductor Long Yu and the Philharmonic players offered the marvelously poetic prelude to Mussorgsky's KHOVANSHCHINA in the Rimsky-Korsakov orchestration. I'm probably in the minority in preferring this Mussorgsky work to his more frequently-performed BORIS GODUNOV. It's time The Met revived their atmospheric production of KHOVANSHCHINA with its devastating final tableau of the self-immolation of the Old Believers. The Met could bring forth some of their fine bassos for this work, to say nothing of Anita Rachvelishvili, who was born to sing Marfa.

It was a great pleasure tonight to at least hear the prelude - sometimes referred to as 'Dawn Over The Moscow River' - played live again. This evocative music depicts the sunrise with glowing textures and shimmering colours; it calls for great subtlety from the players. Maestro Long Yu drew immaculate playing from the Philharmonic artists: a serene flute melody (I could not quite see who the soloist was tonight) and splendid tone from clarinetist Pascual Martínez-Forteza stood out. Mr. Martínez-Forteza, one of the heroes of the evening, later played the solos of the Pathétique with heart-rending expressiveness.

The stage was then set for the Zhao Lin concerto; entitled A Happy Excursion, this is a New York Philharmonic Co-Commission with the Beijing Music Festival and Hangzhou Philharmonic Orchestra. Incredibly, this was my first experience of hearing Yo-Yo Ma live, having savoured his recordings since he burst onto the scene. The cellist made some very helpful, brief remarks about the piece we were about to hear, and then he and Wu Man - radiantly clad in scarlet trousers and tunic - took their seats next to the podium and a magical musical journey commenced.

In his introductory comments, Yo-Yo Ma said that each of the concerto's three movements is musically linked to a thought or concept. The first is: "What happens before a country is born?" (the process of 'becoming', a striving for unity out of chaos); the second: "A great moment in time' (a golden age full of music, art, scientific advancement, creativity of all kinds, religious diversity, peace, and harmony); and finally "The era of "Now" (a vibrant, almost frantic time). 

Above: Wu Man with her pipa (pronounced pē-PAH), a Chinese lute with a sound like that makes me think of a mixture of mandolin and sitar  

A Happy Excursion begins with a brass chorale. Wu Man then sounds her pipa with slashing strokes, and almost violent strumming; her music soon subsides to delicacy. Yo-Yo Ma's cello makes its entry with a plaintive cello phrase, leading to sustained notes that are deep and a bit woozy. A rising cello passage emerges from dense strings to play a passionate theme. The pipa goes into a trilling mode, the cello retaining a melodic lead. The music becomes dancelike, with the pipa very active. Syncopations in the orchestra abound; there's a big, brassy buildup followed by a sort of coda in which Wu Man and Yo-Yo Ma each have a solo.

Harp and winds commence the second movement, with the pipa introducing a haunting cello theme with Yo-Yo Ma really in his element. The pipa inaugurates a dance, in which the cello joins. To a pulsing accompaniment, cello and pipa entwine in a deeply touching passage. The music becomes cinematic, with gleaming brass, before subsiding to a playful bit for the two soloists. The flutes warble sweetly, and the music again begins to swell, with swirling harp motifs. Wu Man's pipa then takes up an emblematic, ancient tune in a hushed atmosphere.

The concerto's final movement begins agitato, with dynamic rhythms. The horns ring forth, the violins in a sweeping passage; the pulse of the music is relentless. The xylophone makes a lively interjection, as pipa and cello overlay a horn rhythm. The timpanist then has his day - super! - and the music takes on an urban liveliness. Again the music builds, recedes, re-bounds: the soloists hold forth over a vibrant rhythm. Cymbal crashes and epic horns seem to be heading to the finish line when another ebbing diverts us: but it's simply to re-charge before sailing on to a grand finish.

At the close of Zhao Lin's fascinating concerto, the Geffen Hall audience - a packed house - erupted in thunderous applause and shouts of approval; a standing ovation ensued as the soloists and conductor took their bows and then called for the composer to come forth and enjoy the accolades. Lovely, exciting atmosphere!

A Happy Excursion should find its way into the worldwide repertoire, provided pipa players of Wu Man's high calibre can be found; she and Yo-Yo Ma amply deserved all the affection the crowd lavished on them tonight, as did the Maestro and the great musicians of The Philharmonic.

Above: conductor Long Yu

Following the interval, Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6, Pathétique, was given a luminous performance, with Maestro Long Yu choosing perfect tempi and the players on peak form. This familiar music tonight had a wonderfully 'alive' feeling. The symphony begins almost grimly, the low violas giving a somber feeling. Then comes the well-beloved theme, one of Tchaikovsky's most poignant. From full sumptuousness of the large ensemble, the melody is distilled to an ultra-piano rendering from Mr. Martínez-Forteza's clarinet. An ill-timed cellphone intrusion did not deter this great musician from casting his spell. The music turns turbulent, in minor-key glory with rich trombones, and a sense of drama fills the hall. Then Mr. Martínez-Forteza again takes up the theme, with spell-binging softness: is this what heaven sounds like?

A Springlike feeling stirs the Allegro con grazia; the music later fills with longing. The third movement, animated and march-like, was expertly paced by Long Yu; even so, it seems over-extended and does not relate well to the rest of the symphony.

The symphony ends with the poignant Adagio lamentoso with its theme that forebodes heartache and loss. Tonight, as the Adagio lamentoso, was being played, I was thinking of all I have read over the years about the single performance of George Balanchine's ballet set to this music and often referred to as Adagio Lamentoso, which was only performed once, on the closing night of the NYC Ballet's 1981 Tchaikovsky Festival. The music of this Adagio often makes me think of Balanchine's great masterpiece, Serenade.

~ Oberon

Vienna Philharmonic @ Carnegie Hall

Above: Michael Tilson Thomas, photo by Art Streiber

~ Author: Ben Weaver

The Vienna Philharmonic’s four-night residency at Carnegie Hall was split between two conductors: Ádám Fisher and Michael Tilson Thomas. I attended the two Tilson Thomas concerts on March 5th  and 6th, 2019, respectively.

Maestro Tilson Thomas began the March 5th concert by reading a lengthy description by Charles Ives of his composition Decoration Day, which the orchestra was about to play. Truthfully, I zoned out after a couple of minutes. It may be best to just print things of this nature in the Playbill and discuss them in the pre-concert lectures. The Ives piece (composed in 1912-13 and revised extensively several times over the next decade) seems like an unusual composition for the Vienna Philharmonic to play, but it’s nice that such a work of Americana enters their repertoire. They played the tone poem, the composer called it “the awakening of memory,” beautifully, and Tilson Thomas shepherded the various off-stage musicians as well as the main ensemble flawlessly. This is music he has in his blood. 

 

Russian pianist Igor Levit (above, in a Richard Termine performance photo) joined the orchestra and Tilson Thomas for Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3. This particular concerto happens to be my favorite of Beethoven’s five and it has been performed live in NYC by a wide range of pianists over the past few seasons, including Yefim Bronfman (with multiple orchestras and conductors), Maria João Pires, Kun Woo Paik, Benjamin Grosvenor, Dénes Várjon, etc. It’s safe to say none played it quite like Igor Levit. Mr. Levit is what some people may describe as “an eccentric”; and not so much for his on-stage behavior: Lang Lang, for example, is far more “out there”. But Lang Lang’s music-making is relatively straight-forward. Mr. Levit’s music-making is the controversy here; he set out to perform a Beethoven 3rd as re-imagined by himself.

 

Sometimes he would caress the keys so tenderly that the sound risked vanishing altogether under the orchestra, followed by aggressive pounding of repeated chords as if he were a 5-year-old who just discovered that hitting these keys makes noise. (Talk about beating an instrument “black-and-blue,” to quote Eduard Hanslick’s infamous review of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto.) Tempos ranged from breathless to dirge-like with little to connect them. Technically,  Mr. Levit’s playing was beyond reproach: the runs - and some were very very fast - were crystal clear, each note hit dead on. But the schizophrenia of the tempos, rhythms and dynamics made little sense. The 3rd’s gorgeous second movement, the Largo, became a drone; it was hard to tell where anything in it started or ended. But Mr. Levit does have admirers and they seem dedicated. Much of the audience greeted the performance as they would any performance; some other members, however, were practically dancing in the aisles. Whether they were celebrating true genius or a naked Emperor it may be too soon to tell.

 

It’s always interesting to me what role a conductor plays in these situations. Maestro Tilson Thomas has conducted this work many times,  and has recorded it recently (with Emanuel Ax.) That recording sounds like Beethoven’s 3rd. Whatever Tilson Thomas’ thoughts on Mr. Levit’s interpretation, they remain unknown; but I am reminded of a 1962 incident when Leonard Bernstein (Tilson Thomas’ mentor) stepped out before the audience of the New York Philharmonic and warned them that the Glenn Gould performance they were about to hear of a Brahms concerto would be “shall we say, unorthodox… a performance distinctly different from any I’ve ever heard, or even dreamt of for that matter… I cannot say I am in total agreement with Mr. Gould’s conception…” Bernstein then proceeded to conduct Gould’s unorthodox take on Brahms. Maybe some day Maestro Tilson Thomas will share his thoughts on Mr. Levit.

 

Some sense of balance was restored to the universe when Michael Tilson Thomas took full reins for Brahms’ 2nd Symphony, but the performance seemed laid back almost to the point of being dull. Maybe the Vienna musicians and conductor were as traumatized by the preceding performance as I was (probably not), but the Symphony never took off the ground, though occasional glimpses of fire did materialize, especially in the climaxes of each movement. The finale of the last movement came together particularly well; if only the rest of the Symphony had been as good as the last 3 or so minutes.

 

Any concerns about this concert were washed away the following night with a magnificent performance of Mahler’s Symphony No. 9. From the moment the second violins breathed music into existence the Vienna Philharmonic demonstrated why it is one of the world’s greatest ensembles and why Maestro Tilson Thomas - conducting without a score - is one of the world’s leading Mahler conductors.

 

Above: performance photo of Michael Tilson Thomas by Richard Termine

 

The long first movement was beautifully shaped and paced, Mahler’s stream of consciousness perfectly controlled. The violins, separated on either side of the conductor, shared the music beautifully, handing off phrases for a manual stereo effect. (Up to the 20th century separating the violins was the common orchestra arrangement; it was Leopold Stokowski who came up with the idea of seating violins side-by-side because he argued it made it easier for violins to play together, which may be true, but up to that point composers wrote music with separated violins in mind and it does make a difference… In Europe orchestras continue to separate the violins. In a recent review of a Herbert Blomstedt-conducted concert of the New York Philharmonic I mentioned that Maestro Blomstedt separated the violins for his concerts.)

 

The Scherzo, a wild collection of waltzes of every mood, was brilliantly brought to life. The Rondo-Burleske was a violent eruption of chaos, screaming winds, menacing brass and ominous timpani. There’s a lot to be said for a less violent take on this movement, which was inspired by sounds of NYC, a place Mahler actually liked. (I recently heard a recording of the symphony by the Czech Philharmonic conducted by Zdeněk Mácal and Maestro Mácal makes a convincing case for lightening the textures and the mood of the movement; the results were a striking panorama of sounds that really do bring to mind a busy NYC street.) And the final Adagio was a glorious, heart-rending paean to (in Leonard Bernstein’s words) “unspoiled nature, to faith in redemption, but also to music as [Mahler] knew it and remembered it…” One of Mahler’s most beautiful melodies here reaches a full orchestra climax and then gradually disintegrates in a haze, soon vanishing into silence with the second violins: ending as it began.

 

Concert photos by Richard Termine

 

~ Ben Weaver

Duet from THE ASPERN PAPERS

Elisabeth Söderström and Neil Rosenshein in Dominick Argento's THE ASPERN PAPERS at The Dallas Opera, 1988.

Argento's ASPERN PAPERS - duet - Elisabeth Söderström & Neil Rosenshein - Dallas 1989

Chiaroscuro Quartet | Kristian Bezuidenhout

Above: the Chiaroscuro Quartet

~ Author: Oberon

Monday March 4th, 2019 - Formidable! Say it with a French flair and you have the essence of this evening's performance by The Chiaroscuro Quartet and that master of the pianoforte, Kristian Bezuidenhout, at Zankel Hall. The Chiaroscuro musicians play on gut strings, with historic bows; a program note tells of an Andrea Amati violin from Cremona made in 1570 that is in the quartet's keeping.

Truly an international ensemble, the members of the Chiaroscuro are the Russian violinist Alina Ibragimova, Spanish violinist Pablo Hernán Benedí, the Swedish violist Emilie Hörnlund, and - from France - cellist Claire Thirion. The Muses gave the music world a great blessing by uniting these four players: they are sublime.

From first note to last, the Chiaroscuro's rendering tonight of Franz Schubert's String Quartet in D-Minor, D. 810,  "Death and the Maiden", was quite simply one of the great musical experiences of my life. Within seconds of the quartet's first note, the audience fell under a spell: so silent and attentive. People didn't just sit back and let the music drift over them. No, they leaned forward - thoroughly engaged - so as not to miss a nuance of this revelatory performance. 

In the year 1824, Schubert's physician was able to partially restore the composer's failing health through regular mineral baths, strict diet and confinement to his room. It was one of the most productive times in Schubert's life; the D-minor quartet that became universally known as "Death and the Maiden" was perhaps the greatest masterpiece to emerge from that period.

The Chiaroscuro Quartet's performance commenced with a vivid, dramatic motif; the momentary stillness that followed was as profound as the music itself. And that was to be a key element in the Chiarascuro's playing: resonant silences cropping up along the way in contrast to their incredible blend. For their sound is organic, as if one stringed instrument of vast range was producing all these colours and harmonies.

When the music quietens, one has the unmistakable feeling of being in church. There are divine modulations, and a pacing that has the sense of inevitability. From the rich sonic tapestry, Ms. Ibragimova's violin often stood out in her forays to higher notes which were graciously tapered.

A sense of urgency takes over, from which springs some duetting from Ms. Ibragimova and Mr. Benedí. Following on, Ms. Ibragimova etches some intricate filigree into the music. A glowing postlude and a quiet finish marked the close of this extraordinary opening Allegro.

These older instruments tend to veer a bit out of tune, so there was some detailed tuning between movements; my evening's companion, dancer Francesca Todesco, agreed that tonight this tuning ritual was actually quite delicious to hear. 

The Andante con moto has a mournfully gorgeous start; as the music progressed, the sound of a chapel organ was often evoked. The ensuing variations were played with great control of dynamics, and with fantastic clarity of detail which never seemed fussy or lacquered on, but became a cohesive element in the playing. Amazing delicacy was achieved, and a poetic ending . The Chiaroscuro musicians had reached a place in my soul that very, very few artists have ever reached.

By now, I was far from the real world. The enchantingly familiar Scherzo: Allegro Moderato with its roseate interlude, was simply blissful to hear, especially with some shimmering motifs from Ms. Ibragimova. The ensuing Presto sailed on a marvelous pace, the playing subtle and magical. In the contrasting mid-section, a swift violin obbligato was an added delight. 

All too soon, this edifying experience came to an end. The din of applause from the standing crowd drew me out of my dreamworld to join in saluting these remarkable players.

Looking very dapper indeed, Kristian Bezuidenhout (above, in a Marco Borggreve photo) then took the stage to play Mozart's Piano Sonata in C-Minor, K. 457. Having heard a lot of big, virtuoso piano playing in recent weeks, it took a few moments to adjust to the gentler sound of the fortepiano.

The sonata's opening Molto allegro found the pianist reeling off passages of high-velocity fiorature with great accuracy: sometimes merry, and sometimes made of sterner stuff. The movement ends very quietly. In the charming Adagio, entwined melodies - including the thoughtful opening theme theme - were played with great subtlety. Ending with an Allegro assai which commences in the minor and ventures thru a series of modulations, by turns dramatic and hushed, the sonata is about to simply fade away when two punctuating chords resound.

The audience seemed very much taken with Mr. Bezuidenhout's performance; he and the Chiaroscuro musicians were warmly welcomed back to the stage for the evening's concluding work, Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 12 in A-Major, K. 414S. This was preceded by another engaging tuning session.

There's enticing rhythmic variety to be found in this concerto's opening Allegro; light and airy piano passages flourish whilst the strings bring forth more of the fascinatingly meshed sounds that made their opening Schubert so appealing. Mr. Bezuidenhout's gift for nuance gave us much to savour, and in the cadenza, the flow of the music had a jewel-like clarity.

A lovely string chorale opens the Andante, the piano entering softly to sustain the reverential mood. Together, the five musicians achieved a marvelous mix of timbres. A series of elegant trills inaugurates the cadenza, in which Mr. Bezuidenhout drew the tone down to a hush before the strings resume: a heavenly effect. There's yet another solo piano passage before the Andante finishes casting its spell.

Bright, rather witty music opens the final Rondo allegretto; a more dramatic turn leads to another cadenza, in which the pianist produced more of his dreamy trills before sailing back to the lively theme. The concerto ends briskly.

An insistent ovation brought the musicians out for a pair of bows; an encore was clearly desired by the full house, but it was not to be. 

~ Oberon

Barbara Hendricks Sings "Chère nuit"

Barbara Hendricks sings Bachelet's "Chère nuit".

Barbara Hendricks - Bachelet - Chère nuit

"Soon the hour will be here.
Behind the hills
I see the sun that goes down
and jealously hides her rays.
I hear the souls of things singing,
and the narcissus and the rose
send me the sweetest perfumes.

Beloved night of serene radiance,
you who bring back my tender lover...
ah, come down and veil the earth
with your calm and charming mystery.
My happiness is re-born under your wings.
O night, more beautiful than any day:
ah, come down and again make
the dawn of my love shine forth.
Beloved night! Ah, descend..."

~ Eugène Adénis-Colombeau, translated from the French