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Satisfyingly bourgeois
Who's on the podium?
Saturday, November 1, 2003
By Robert W. ButtsWestfield Symphony Orchestra, David Wroe, conductor, Sandra Wolf-Meei Cameron, violin. Bach's Suite no. 3 in D Major;
Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto; R. Strauss's Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme Suite, op. 60. Presented at the Presbyterian Church, Westfield.Perhaps everybody simply hadn't warmed up enough at the start, since it seemed that the Westfield Symphony Orchestra got better as the evening went on, moving from a somewhat bland opening to an absolutely sparkling and brilliant conclusion.
Balance problems plagued the performance of Johann Sebastian Bach's Suite no. 3 in D Major, some of which lay in the scoring itself. Trumpets were simply too loud as their chordal punctuations drowned out the rhythmic nuances and nicely realized dotted figures of the overture and later movements. Even when the trumpets were silent, however, it was difficult at times to distinguish melodic lines or tunes from within the overall orchestral texture.
Despite this, the Overture did move with sparkle and energy, the *Gavotte danced in a sprightly manner, and the famous *"Air" contained a breathless beauty in which notes and phrases were sensitively caressed. The *Bourée and *Gigue, however, were much too fast, coming off like frenzied running around rather than energetic dances.
Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto, in contrast, was nicely balanced throughout with tempi and phrases chosen to bring forth both the romantic emotionality and the exquisitely crafted melodic wealth. Transitions between movements were well done, linking the three sections in organically seamless fashion with one leading smoothly into the next.
Impressively tossing off the solo lines with impassioned abandon was sixteen year-old Sandra Wolf-Meei Cameron. Several intonation mishaps in the opening movement distracted hardly a whit from the intensely concentrated interpretation. Twisting, turning, shaking, and contorting as if engaged in simultaneous musical and gymnastic endeavors, Cameron captivated the audience with her total involvement in the performance and her comfort with the sort of physical self-expression one associates more with a young Britney Spears or other rock star stage persona.
The only drawback to her performance style was that while it contained terrific visual performance force, the music sometimes felt unfocused in the show of virtuosic bravura. At times, the orchestra and soloist seemed slightly out of sync while at other times they were totally playing as one. This may have been due to the odd decision to place Ms. Cameron on the podium, thus forcing Wroe to attempt to hold everything together from a spot essentially within the cello section. In spite of these problems, her performance was filled with enthusiasm and spirit as she played the piece for all it was worth and earned a rousing immediate ovation from the large audience.
The final work of the evening, Richard Strauss's Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme Suite was musically the most successful. Wroe seemed most at home with Strauss's lush, late romantic magic. Each of the eight movements of the suite, chosen from the composer's music for a Hoffmansthal/Reinhardt adaptation of the seventeenth century Molière play of the same name, contained all the glitter and orchestrational brilliance that distinguish Strauss's style.
The overture set the mood with its light, bright and fresh inflections. The mood of refined elegance and delectable melodies was maintained throughout as Wroe and orchestra worked as one. Balance here was ideal as individual instrumental colors came to the fore in profusion against a constant orchestral tapestry that became an instrument as a whole as well as an ensemble of individuals. While solo moments abounded and practically every musician could be singled out for excellence, concertmaster Anton Miller left the most lasting impression with his impeccably precise and consistently musical rendering of each of his many solo passages, frequently in some varied co-performance with solo cellist, violist or other violinist or in any combination thereof, making for constant subtly satisfying variety.
A New Jersey composer's premiere. A "late" appearance by the orchestra
Saturday, November 8, 2003
By Paul M. SomersBay-Atlantic Symphony, Jed Gaylin (conductor), with Duo Mento: Loretta and Steven Mento (piano). "Fantasy and Reality." Schubert: Fantasy in F minor, op. 103; S. Mento: Elegy for piano and orchestra; Schubert: Symphony no. 9 in C major. Guaracini Performing Arts Center, Vineland.
The Bay-Atlantic Symphony took some adventurous steps in this concert: it began with the orchestra offstage and a piano-duet team playing, and then it programmed a work by a southern New Jersey composer, something only the Colonial Symphony had previously done.
Somers Point resident Steven Mento was involved in both adventures, for he and his sister Loretta were the pair of pianists in Schubert's best-known duet work, his Fantasy in F minor. The piece was, of course, composed for having a good time with a friend or relative in the privacy of a home and likely with no audience at all. So the work's length was a virtue since it allowed the players more quality time together. Indeed, given the relationship between some of the friends, it would not have been unusual for the music to stop for a moment or two while the couple engaged in some non-musical, though fleeting activity before the chaperone, warned by the silence, appeared at the door.
But here we were with the grand piano on stage about to hear a truly intimate and perhaps overlong work put before an audience in a concert hall. Here is where the professional level of the sister and brother team came into play, as it were. The phrases had shape, the episodes were made to belong to each other, and the whole was produced with a high level of piano technique from both artists which propelled the music crisply without muddiness or dragging. The only problem in Saturday's concert was the ensemble on the final chords. Practice in breathing together during the preceding rest would have solved that, and we assume that issue was solved by the Sunday afternoon concert.
The orchestra finally came on stage and tuned. Then Mr. Mento preceded conductor Jed Gaylin on stage as he returned as the soloist in his own Elegy. This is not a work with a single mood like so many elegies. Instead Mento uses different styles of writing to illumine what seems to be the grieving process. The opening is shockingly *expressionist in its *dissonance and disjointedness, apparent in both the orchestral and piano writing. But as the piece progresses Mento uses various other 20th century techniques to increasingly less strident ends until the work concludes with a degree of peace. These stylistic references never feel dragged in by the heels and never feel imitative of other composers. It is as if Mento has chosen to use the "feel" of various styles as a means of charting or depicting the emotional state of the elegiac person.
The piece requires a solo piano but is not a concerto. Instead the solo instrument wavers between commentary - perhaps narrative - and orchestral color. In only these respects it is rather like Bernstein's Symphony no. 2, "Age of Anxiety." Surely Elegy is worth rehearing; re-experiencing is perhaps a more apt term.
The evening concluded with the Schubert Symphony no. 9 ("Great"). This appellation may not mean for some folks that it is a masterpiece but simply that it is long. Mr. Gaylin's performance, trimmed of some repeats, took one hour flat, emphasizing that in its time it was the longest symphony ever composed. It would seem that among the affinities shared by Schubert and Mahler was the lure of noble length.
Gaylin made sure that every Mahleresque foreshadowing was heard. The march movement was as dirge-like as he could make it. The dances were just on the sane side of manic. Nothing ever left the realm of acceptable tempo, but there was an edge which led the performance into the future. The strings' repetitive pattern in the finale (like minimalism with a tune on top) was crisp and had direction, something which even the major orchestras with an inattentive person on the podium too often lack. But Gaylin knew where he wanted to go with the music and is known for his attention to detail. The frequent oboe solos, always one of the prime indicators of the level of performance in this work, were excellent.
The idea to balance the "Great" with a lengthy piano duet was inspired in and of itself, but it also recalled the penchant of Schubert's and Beethoven's age for having two or three different genres on the same concert program.
Ian Fleming passé
Russian music still au courant
Sunday, November 9, 2003
By Mary MorsePrinceton Symphony Orchestra, Mark Laycock (conductor), Yuri Mazurkevich (violin). Kabalevsky: Overture to Colas Breugnon, op. 24; Shostakovich: Violin Concerto no. 1; Prokofiev's Symphony no. 7, op. 131. Richardson Auditorium, Princeton.
Mark Laycock's ambitious programming and assured conducting style - plus a virtuoso performance from violinist Yuri Mazurkevich - made for a remarkable second concert in the Princeton Symphony Orchestra's new season. Pre-concert publicity tagged the program "From Russia, with Love," a rather fatuous billing considering Shostakovich's complex First Violin Concerto.
The PSO romped through Dmitri Kabalevsky's lighthearted Overture to Colas Breugnon, op. 24. With the aid of Mr. Laycock's program notes, Kabalevsky's mischievous musical tricks, including the odd-sounding *ponticello bowing in the cellos, were easy to identify. More importantly, they obviously amused the PSO players as well.
Shostakovich's Concerto no. 1 in A Minor for Violin and Orchestra, op. 99, doesn't make it to the concert stage that often. The violin solo demands impeccable technique coupled with enormous stamina. Mazurekevich, himself a protege of David Oistrakh, the Russian violinist who premiered the concerto in 1955, held his own on both counts.
More importantly, Mazurekevich's own emotional attachment to the work helped us comprehend the profound differences between Shostakovich's public and private musical personas. The "First Violin Concerto" radically separates itself from the forced optimism that characterizes works Shostakovich completed and performed under Stalin's rule. Its darker mode first surfaces in the first movement "Nocturne," especially in the stark silence in its middle; we rarely equate silence with music.
While the "Nocturne" offered exquisite moments for the violin soloist, Mazurkevich's star quality emerged in the *"Scherzo" and *"Passacaglia" movements. Both demand impeccable technique and speed, and Mazurkevich delivered both with mesmerizing intensity. The five-minute *cadenza at the end of the passacaglia offered an extraordinary example of endurance and agility.
The Shostakovich concerto demanded so much from both soloist and orchestra that the PSO could have slacked off after intermission. But instead, they offered a lively and inspired performance of Prokofiev's Symphony no. 7, op. 131. The stunning rendition of the second movement waltz (Prokofiev's homage to Tchaikovsky) pirouetted through a series of ballet motifs to a conclusion so satisfying that it was difficult to remember not to clap between movements. Even though the third movement seemed a bit anti-climactic after such energy, Mr. Laycock kept the dramatic pulse beating all the way through the finale.
Leading with Liszt
Shleynenkov returns to the State Theatre
Thursday, November 13, 2003
By Paul M. SomersNew Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Cornelius Eberhardt (conductor), Daniel Shleynenkov (piano). Beethoven: Overture to King Stephen, op. 117; Liszt: Piano Concerto no. 1 in E-flat major; Bruckner: Symphony no. 6 in A minor. Heard in the State Theatre, New Brunswick.
Daniel Shleyenkov was last spring's winner of the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra's Young Artist Auditions. That particular competition is now fabled as the time and place in which the NJSO and its Principal Conductor and Music Director Designate, Neeme Järvi, first met. If winner Daniel Shleyenkov was a bit lost in the sweep of events, ultimately he reclaimed his rightful place as the star of the show when he played with the orchestra for a subscription concert. I picked the State Theatre to hear him because it was his return to the venue where he had won.
Shleyenkov proved to be a pianistic juggernaut who went for broke and produced a musical drama which rendered a few dropped notes utterly irrelevant. Though he never pounded the instrument, always calling forth resonance of substance, this was a performance which would have broken strings and more on a piano of Liszt's time and place.
Conductor Cornelius Eberhardt took the orchestra along in workman like fashion. His cues were direct, his tempi guided entirely by the soloist's needs. The players shone, but only when called upon to become the object of attention. The rest of the time they were properly subservient to the iconic figure of the soloists, both Liszt and his surrogate Shleyenkov.
The Hungarian theme of the concert was maintained as the exotic melodies of Bruckner's Symphony no. 6 emerged. Surely inspired by some of the non-diatonic scales found in Magyar music, it is these tune which give Bruckner's work its main interest. The music is often unwieldy in thickness and length, but conductor Eberhardt had a fine understanding of the proper tempi to keep it all flowing along.
I once knew a hornist who studied for a season in Munich. There, back in the 1960s, his teacher brought all the horn students together each week to play. All they played for the whole year were the horn parts of all the Bruckner Symphonies. And this was true every year, so important are those works to the Germanic culture and to its hornists.
So it was particularly gratifying to hear the NJSO's full complement of horns do full justice to Bruckner's Wagner-influenced music. These worthies of the orchestra came to the *trio section of the *Scherzo and let fly to brilliant effect.
The sudden ending of the symphony always sounds to me as if the composer rather arbitrarily threw a dart at the page and decided to stop there. But it is just another facet of the Bruckner mystique. The fanatics say he knew when to stop and the head-shakers say he didn't know how to do it effectively. I've never been sold wholly on Bruckner except for his Fourth and his Te deum (a choral masterpiece). And this performance did not make me a convert. But Eberhardt certainly knew how to heft the large chunks of music around and the orchestra took on something it had not played before and made it work as best it could.
The concert began with Beethoven's very odd Overture to King Stephen. It is a piece which is getting close to what we call 'late' Beethoven. Considering that the one-act play by Kotzebue has no conflict, but is a celebration of the blending of the medieval king's Christianity and the happiness of the populace at his ascension to the throne. Thus we find Beethoven developing not melodies, motifs, or even anything in notes. Rather his opening of descending *fourths recalls the use of that interval to mean Christ (or here Christianity), and the other issues in the music contrast noble music with peasant dances. It is this contrast and synthesis of two social classes which drives the music. It is an idea - nobility as an ideal not constrained to or owned by a particular class - to which Beethoven returned in far more refined manner in his Symphony no. 9.
There was one other element in the piece which was quite striking. Nowhere in his works - indeed in no one's works for many, many years - is an augmented triad used so pointedly and sustained so long as at the end of the *development.
It is, in these two respects, rather like the Choral Fantasy, sort of a trial run for things which were germinating in his mind. Both contain ideas he rejected in later works.
King Stephen and the Choral Fantasy are filled with solos. Here it was flute, oboe, clarinet, and horn who had excellent turns. But the same kind of reliance on transparent solos did not resurface in the Ninth. The *augmented triad was bold, but he never tried it again. On the other hand the idea of nobility and peasant merging came to fruition as one of the great themes of the Ninth. And the elevation of a musical symbol like the descending fourth became the whole point of many, of not most, of his subsequent works.
The orchestra certainly played it well, thus giving us all a glimpse into the workshop of a genius. Rather like investigating C. P. E. Bach's music, we had a chance to hear ideas the creator ultimately rejected for further use, as well as ideas upon which the remaining works expanded.
Rare Requiem
Psalms sung with transparency
November 15, 2003
By Paul M. SomersOratorio Society of New Jersey, Gary M. Schneider (conductor), Sandor Szabo (organ), Thomas Carlo Bo (piano), Jeff Pines (percussion). Stravinsky: Symphony of Psalms; Cherubini: Requiem Mass in C minor. Union Congregational Church, Upper Montclair.
It would be inaccurate to suggest that Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms is often sung, yet it certainly receives more performances than Luigi Cherubini's 1816 Requiem Mass in C minor. Both were performed by the Oratorio Society of New Jersey on the same concert.
Just why the Requiem is ignored would be difficult to imagine, so dramatic and expressively composed is the music, were it not for the company it is forced by history to keep: Mozart, Berlioz, Verdi, Dvorák, and Britten are formidable competitors indeed in the world of Requiems. Even the far less dramatic Fauré work, because of its perceived ease of singing, is heard far more often.
Gary M. Schneider made an excellent case for its inclusion in the Requiem canon. It is a long work for chorus only. But it is not as hard on the singers as it may seem on paper, since there are many sections which are for only one or two vocal parts, giving the others much needed rests.
The opening "Introitus" is unadorned, not what one would expect from the director of the Paris Opéra. That noble simplicity gives gravitas to the text while also setting up the listener for the power of the "Dies irae" sequence. We can rehearse in our minds the various versions of this apocalyptic poetic vision, from Verdi's shattering bass drum to Britten's trumpet calls and 7/8 meter. But only Cherubini has the moxie to open with a gigantic gong crash! The organ accompaniment (there was no orchestra in this performance) played into the frightening picture, especially because the instrument could use some tuning, no fault of Sandor Szabo who played all evening with his usual excellence.
Among the 19 stanzas of the vision of the Last Judgment, the "Rex tremendæ majestatis" was mightily powerful. "Confutatis maledictis" on the other hand was filled with colorations to paint the text.
The singers of the Oratorio Society must be commended for their *forte-piano attacks in the "Lacrymosa" which were executed with precision without sounding stagier than they were originally intended to be. One can hear incipient Gounod in the quite operatic "Domine Jesu". The "Quam olim Abrahæ" is, of usual, quite contrapuntal. Its repeat was far cleaner than its first time through.
Cherubini's tone painting was kept well intact by Schneider and his forces. The crisp detachment of the "Benedictus" clearly represented the steps of "He who cometh in the name of the Lord." And the final "Lux æterna", sung only on the *tonic, provides a picture of eternity which is filled with light and without the tension of changing chords.
Hearing this work live with an orchestra is now a goal for this listener. The concert began with Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms in a performance using organ, piano, and timpani. This removed the buffering effect of the strings. Thus what we heard at once was the dryness of the accompaniment. This worked well for Stravinsky, for all the *counterpoint became far more obvious without the strings.
The 39 voices (I counted fewer) were well balanced with the accompaniment and well trained. The modest numbers created a welcome transparency. Thomas Carlo Bo, better known as the music director of Opera at Florham, played the original piano part (plus some other parts) with precision and a lyrical touch.
The finale is the most difficult and came off least well for all. Here, and only here all evening, the chorus was too often tentative. Yet all the great choral moments were well in place.
There was one decision in creating a workable accompaniment which was ineffective: the big horn solo in the final movement would have been far better served if the piano had played it *in octaves; instead it was given to a far less bold organ stop. Though the orchestra is far preferable to the brittle sound of percussive piano and the wind-band of the organ, I was glad to have heard the econo-line version for its greater contrapuntal clarity and heightened angularity.
Gloria, Gloria
Poulenc, Rutter
Saturday, November 15, 2003
By A. Michael NollCrescent Choral Society, accompanied by organ, brass, and percussion: Ronald Thayer (conductor); Brenda Day (organ). Poulenc: Gloria; Rutter: Gloria. Crescent Avenue Presbyterian Church, Plainfield.
This concert was aptly billed as "Glorious Glorias" and is the type of creative programming that should occur more frequently.
Everything came together nearly perfectly for John Rutter's Gloria. The assembled forces of chorus, organ, brass, and percussion were precisely as written by the composer. The great lows in the organ (played by Brenda Day) rumbled my tummy, just as they should. The brass was brash in Section I and snappy in Section III, again just as they should be. The diction of the chorus was outstanding, and all the forces were nicely balanced. The organ in Section II was particularly gentle, with the chorus adding a nice sense of soaring mystery.
Although the Rutter was a great success, being written for the forces that performed it, the Poulenc Gloria suffered from the lack of an orchestra. The solo organ used instead of strings lacked the warmth of the strings and far too often over-powered the chorus, clashing with the brass, and the piano used in the Agnus Dei of the Poulenc sounded out of place. Poulenc knew what he was doing with his original scoring, but the economics of an orchestra can understandably be too costly. However, soprano Roseann Latore soared sweetly over the chorus in her solo in the Domine Deus and soprano Dorothy Magliocca was also quite fine in the last two sections of the Poulenc.
The Poulenc and Rutter Glorias are both from the second half of the twentieth century and both pieces were premiered in the United States: the Poulenc in 1961 in Boston and the Rutter in 1974 in Omaha. John Rutter, though British, has had an affinity with the United States, and his music is deservingly quite popular here, particularly his Gloria. He seems to sense what we like to hear and what American performers like to perform. The Gloria by Poulenc, however, is in the tradition of Stravinsky, and is a quite different sounding piece, clearly requiring the warmth of the strings of an orchestra which were missing today.
Little-known little Bach
Miniatures in a large space
Sunday, November 16, 2003
By A. Michael NollAnthony Newman (organ). Newman: Grand Intrada and Triple Fugue in C; Bach: 18 Little Pieces for Musical Clock; Bach: Toccata, Adagio and Fugue, BWV 464; Newman: Prelude and Te Deum; Bach: Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor, BWV 582; Viern: Carrilon de Westminster. Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Newark.
Anthony Newman's organ recital was a winning combination of a magnificent organ with a fantastic organist. He specializes in Bach, and the Bach pieces were played flawlessly, fully displaying his mastery. For an encore, he played more Bach, but without the music in front of him, which made his playing even more thrilling. Of course he received a standing ovation.
The recital opened with Newman as composer of his Grand Intrada - a boisterous opening - and Triple Fugue. While the Bach influence was clearly evident, Bach has no worry, and if anything, the opening piece of Newman playing Newman spotlighted the tremendous creativity of the Bach to come latter in the recital. Newman's Prelude was sweetly peaceful, contrasting with the jazzy, almost-improvisational nature of the Te Deum.
The real highlight of the recital was East coast premiere of Bach's 18 Little Pieces for Musical Clock. In his spoken remarks, Newman explained how Bach wrote these little pieces for a grandfather clock, but their publication had gone out of print until Newman influenced their republication. The pieces are a collection of miniature gems, and Newman's inspired choice of stops for each allowed each of the gems to sparkle.
The power of Newman's mastery is how the music passes effortlessly from notes through his hands and feet to our ears, filling the Cathedral with wondrous sonic splendor. New Jersey has one of the world's great organs here in Newark at the Sacred Heart Cathedral, as those organists who come to play it must surely recognize.
Precision and manipulation
Still considering Philip Glass
Thursday, November 20, 2003
By Paul M. SomersNew Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Yakov Kreizberg (conductor), Eric Wyrick (violin). Bernstein: "Three Dance Episodes" from On the Town; Glass: Violin Concerto; Brahms: Symphony no. 2. Prudential Hall, Newark.
New Jersey Symphony Orchestra Concertmaster Eric Wyrick was the soloist in Philip Glass's Violin Concerto. While concertmasters are expected to be able to play major concertos at the drop of a hat if a scheduled soloist becomes indisposed, surely this work lies outside that expectation. So it was quite an achievement for Wyrick to get the piece under his fingers. Glass's style doesn't lend itself to the vehicle of the concerto. There is no typical give-and-take between soloist and orchestra mainly because there is little recognizable as "main idea" played by soloist which can stand in opposition to what the orchestra is playing or vice versa.
The outer movements are - as in most concertos - fast, busy, and technically demanding. Glass's methodology can be likened to C. P. E. Bach's famous criticism of Vivaldi: he writes great bass lines then gives them to the soloist. With Glass it isn't so much bass lines as it is accompanying figures. Both parties spend an inordinate amount of time playing what in another concerto would be *passage work behind something more important. Yes, Mr. Wyrick executed it not only with accuracy - all it would seem to demand at first glance - but with a degree of fire which provided the sense of importance the music demands if it is to be taken seriously.
The slow movement, the most affecting, perhaps achieved that status by dint of reminding this listener of Sibelius' masterful concerto. Glass fills the brooding score with low strings and bassoon, painting his own bleak musical tundra. But the whole work proved to be too often like an undergraduate harmony exercise gorgeously orchestrated and given structure by easily repeated motives and dramatic *dynamic shifts. It is as if the composer is creating the illusion of progress while remaining in place. Perhaps this is an apt metaphor for our time when the internet allows us to travel the world while sitting still, but perhaps it shouldn't be called a concerto; that's like calling a computer's mouse a pencil.
At the conclusion there was appropriate applause for Mr. Wyrick's stamina and generally successful infusion of shape and substance into what otherwise might just as well have done by a *sequencer. When he came on stage for what is usually a solo bow, he motioned for his colleagues to stand with him. They, after all, had been relentlessly chugging along the whole time as
well.Perhaps the Glass concerto suffered for having followed Bernstein's "Three Dance Episodes from On the Town." Here shape, goal, tunes, and space are the musical currency, and on this occasion the economy flourished. Guest conductor Yakov Kreizberg drew crisp, precise rhythms out of the orchestra, all the while giving individual players the latitude to make the most of their solos: Andrew Lamy's big E-flat clarinet solo and Kathleen Nester's romp on piccolo were outstanding.
Kreizberg closed with a pianistic Brahms' Second Symphony. Filled with little *rubato nuances, it seemed to be what he would do were he to have played it as a recital piece. In that context it may well have worked, but with an orchestra the music needs to have sweep and inexorable direction. Detail for a solo pianist becomes quirkiness for a conductor, perhaps more an attempt to "interpret" than was helpful for Brahms.
There were some other oddities about Kreizberg's vision. The trombones were most often asked to be bright and edgy rather than mellow and lushly supportive. This of course provided a color not often associated with "autumnal" Brahms, but it also robbed the final brazen *fortissimo D major chord in the trombones of the hair-raising effect. If we hear them so brassy so often early on, then they're just doing it again at the end, not at all as dramatic a statement.
But loud is loud and that means the adrenalin is pumping. Sure enough, as no doubt calculated, the audience began applauding before the final chord and provided a standing ovation. Brahms knew how to get that on his own terms, and, though not on the same terms, so did Kreizberg.
Two full houses
Beethoven still a big draw
Sunday, November 23, 2003
By A. Michael NollMostly Music: Ani Kavafian (violin), Carter Brey (cello), Carmit Zori (violin), Robert Rinehart (viola), Toby Appel (viola). Beethoven: String Trio in G, op. 9, no.1; String Quartet in C Major, op. 59, No.3 ("Rasumovsky"); String Quintet in C Major, op. 29. Temple Emanu-El, Westfield.
One wonders what more there could be than "mostly music" in what has become probably the premier chamber series in New Jersey, offering consistent perfection in exciting performances of mostly accessible music. Although this concert's programming was conservative - all Beethoven - in response to audience request, the performances were the top quality we have come to expect. So intense is the striving for the very best that even a music stand had to be replaced during a pause in the String Trio because of a buzz.
The string works all came from the early and middle portion of Beethoven's composing, but they progressed during the performance from Trio to Quartet and finally to Quintet. Ms. Zori, Mr. Rinehart, and Mr. Brey performed the Trio, and were particularly exciting in the rapid-fire, yet controlled fury, of the *Presto. They were then joined by Ms. Kavafian for the Quartet, and were particularly brilliant in the *Allegro molto. All performed in the Quintet, which we were told is not heard that often.
This series is performed on Sundays, first in Maplewood and then repeated in Westfield. The Maplewood venue was sold out today, and Westfield was nearly packed. Should this success continue to grow, as it deservedly should, Mostly Music will need some larger venues to satisfy the demand.
High Mountain Symphony. Family Concert. Children's Instrument Petting Zoo. Paul Hostetter (conductor), Susan Chapek (narrator), Dan Kamin (zookeeper). Music by Kabalevsky, Stravinsky, Shostakovich, Rimsky-Korsakov, Rossini, Leroy Anderson, Handel, Mussorgsky, Stravinsky, Saint-Saens, Stravinsky, Offenbach. Shea Center, William Paterson University, Wayne.
It was imperative that I get to the Shea auditorium early in order to observe the instrumental petting zoo as I was interested in catching the reactions of children to seeing and handling some of the instruments of the orchestra, up close and personal, as the saying goes. What I was unprepared for was the overall gleeful reaction from children of all ages! The youngsters, of course, got over any trepidation rather quickly and were soon sawing away on violins, tooting on piccolos and flutes, producing surprisingly dulcet sounds from the French horn and of course banging away on the tympani and rattling the various percussion instruments. Not too many ventured to take their chances on the trombone and it's intimidating presence, what with that big bell coming out at you, but they stood around in fascination as Cameron McManus demonstrated his considerable flexibility and fluidness on the instrument, playing both snippets from the impending program and vigorous jazz riffs. Even the "oldsters" in the lobby of Shea auditorium took delight in not only the demonstrations and explanations but the obvious enthrallment of the children.
Conductor Paul Hostetter greeted all incoming visitors, appropriately front and center, as they came in through the doors. His was a smiling and inviting presence, warmly greeting the concert goers, young and old, and as his orchestral colleagues, allowed any and all to hold his "instrument," the baton, and feel its weight and texture. All of the orchestral members participating in the petting zoo exhibited patience and a benign facility for demonstrating and explaining their instruments in easy to understand terms that were never condescending.
Seeing the glowing eyes and smiling faces along with the sounds of gleeful laughter was rather a wonderful way to spend some pre-concert time in the lobby of an auditorium. We can only applaud and commend the efforts of Mr. Hostetter and his orchestral players in creating this opportunity to engage young minds and sensibilities in such a highly interactive manner.
The High Mountain Symphony is the only professional orchestra in residence on a college or university campus in New Jersey and is composed of not only professional players, many on the faculty of William Paterson University, but also gifted instrumental students. This provides a great opportunity for these students to gain experience not only in playing in a concert atmosphere but of working with more seasoned players. This consequently aids in the growth of the students own experience and musical persona, adding greatly to their burgeoning gifts of artistic communication at a relatively young age.
The concert program was a potpourri of tried and true light orchestral fare albeit still requiring a high degree of technical proficiency. The skills of Mr. Hostetter and his players, coupled with the deftly comic antics of zookeeper Dan Kamin and the animated narration of Susan Chapek, resulted in a blend of first rate musical and physically comedic vignettes. Ms. Chapek's narration was articulate and linguistically graphic, leaving no room for misunderstanding on the part of her quite intergenerational audience. When called upon to participate in Mr. Kamin's actions she proved to be a suitably apt straightman (straightwoman?) or foil. Mr. Kamin delighted in his sense of five year old naiveté and wonder, as his comedy approached everything on a childlike but never childish level, whether proving himself to be an inept butterfly hunter to the strains of Shostakovich's 'Polka' from the Age of Gold ballet; attempting to elude a persistent bumble-bee to, of course, Rimsky-Korsakov's magnificent orchestral evocation of a bee in rapid flight; performing a pussy cat pas de deux with Ms. Chapek in Leroy Anderson's Waltzing Cat; and his forlornly cake crazed elephant, (who, with Ms. Chapek's assistance along with members of the orchestra and Hostetter) baked a cake, to the piano and bass strains of Saint-Saens' "The Elephant" from his Carnival of Animals. In the last mentioned piece both pianist Paul Woodworth, a gifted graduate student, and principal bassist Vincent Carano were outstanding.
This was my very first encounter hearing this orchestra, after repeated urgings this season from musical friends and colleagues. These are first rate musicians and they are led by a fine young conductor with first rate creative skills. From the opening note on the program, Kabalevsky's 'Galop' from The Comedians, I was delightfully surprised at the tightness of the ensemble playing and Hosttetter's crisply precise and exacting leadership. He gave clearly defined cues at every turn and shaped his phrases with a purposeful clarity that brought out the drama and excitement of every piece on the program. There were verve, balance, and nuance galore in these short pungent orchestral favorites. The audience took a special delight in the snap, crackle and pop. I loved the 'meowing' of the first violins in Anderson's Waltzing Cat; the strongly accented Rossinian passagework and scalar runs in the William Tell Overture; the exactitude of the pizzicato's in Mussorgsky's Unhatched Chicks; Karen Dempsey's limpid flute solo along with clarinetist William Shadel's equally fine performance in Stravinsky's Waltz from his Suite No. 2; and David Bakamijian's dulcet and sensuous cello solo in "The Swan" from Carnival of the Animals. Mr. Kamin waltzed with a full sized dummy, the 'Swan Lady', to elegant effect. I could certainly go on with this sort of praise for paragraphs, but suffice it to say, that I eagerly anticipate further encounters with Mr. Hostetter and the High Mountain Symphony as this family concert has justifiably whetted my appetite for more.
Personal romanticism
Haydn and Dvorák a calming influence
Sunday, November 23, 2003
By William Allin StorrerClaring Chamber Players: Mayuki Fukuhara and Mitsuru Tsubota (violins), Daniel Panner (viola), Rosalyn Clarke (cello) and Bernice Silk (piano). Haydn: Piano Trio in E minor, H. XV, no. 12; Janácek: String Quartet no. 2, 'Intimate letters;' Dvorák: Piano Quartet in E-flat major, op. 87. Unitarian Church, Montclair.
Janácek and Dvorák are known Romantics. But Haydn a Romantic? Yes, if played as one. So with their usual excellent programming, the Claring Chamber Players with Daniel Panner replacing the ailing Sarah Clarke, gave us heart-warming Romanticism on a late autumnal Sunday afternoon.
One can play Haydn without vibrato, placing him clearly in the early Classical period. Well, one can even play Beethoven without vibrato, and if played on original instruments, should be played that way. On modern instruments, one has a choice. This afternoon we got vibrato and romantic Haydn. As a concert-opener it bridged us nicely from the outside world to the world of classical music. Here is late, mature Haydn, long past when trios were piano with supporting strings. The Claring group made no ifs, ands, or buts: this was an integrated ensemble, digging in and revealing all of Haydn that was tending towards Beethoven.
Of course, though brilliantly dashed-off, Haydn was there to remove us from that outside world and prepare us for what to this critic is the most intimate and uncompromising of string quartets between Beethoven and Bartok. If one did not know that the world is full of violinists and short on good violists, one could ask why the second and last of Janacek's quartets was not written for three violas and cello. There is some very haunting writing for the viola, and at times the second violin takes such pride of place that an inexperienced concert-goer would think the group was seated incorrectly, with the first in second position. Janácek distributes interesting music to the upper voices with mostly equal equanimity.
The part writing demands the utmost concentration by the audience to decipher all that is going on. The work is a passionate, intimate love letter to a woman thirty-five years the composer's junior and is very intense. One is warned at the start; the ensemble plays a short phrase, then all is quiet, a solo viola enters, the ensemble again, then solo cello, and finally the work really gets going. Is the viola Kamila and the composer the cello? Or vice versa? Or neither? We are teased, and challenged, for traditional sonata/allegro form is not apparent as a guide to the work, nor are other traditional forms obvious for later movements. At times it seems episodic as the forward movement tells a tale of love unrequited, from first meeting to spas visited by the illicit couple. What episodes!
That any ensemble can bring this work off satisfactorily is a challenge, which is why it is not programmed often. As one audience member put it, admitting that the Claring always play well, but 'not THAT well,' namely beyond not only their own high norm, but any norm, is a true compliment.
Well, the long intermission let us catch breath and return to the normal classical world, this time of Dvorák. His Opus 87 quartet is another less-programmed work, possibly due to its paucity of memorable tunes. Yet it is not tuneless. One can easily fall apart at the grazioso them of the third movement. But it is the clean structure in fairly standard classical format that is comforting after the demands of Janácek.
Bravo, Clarings. See you again when you welcome the first day of Spring next year.