Schubertiad
Singing and playing
Sunday, October 19, 2003
By Robert W. Butts

Lyrica, Laura Bossert (violin), Terry King (cello), Mariel Bossert (piano), Guido Ruland, (baritone). Schubert Lieder plus Schubert's Sonata in D, D. 384, and Trio in B-flat, op. 99. Presented at St Peter's Episcopal Church, Mountain Lakes.

Many, if not most, musicians and musicologists cite Beethoven as the key transitional composer between the Classical era of Haydn and Mozart and the highly expressive Romanticism of Schumann, Chopin and Brahms. After spending a wonderful afternoon listening to Lyrica interpret Schubert, however, one is reminded that he may truly have been the more pivotal figure.

Of course, there is no denying the immense shadow Beethoven cast, and continues to cast, over composers and the music world. But however expressive and personal Beethoven's compositions, they remained firmly rooted in Classical forms and structures or even in Baroque models for contrapuntal creativity. Hearing Schubert's early, classically courtly "salon" style in the youthful Sonata in D, D. 384 followed later in the program by his Trio in B-flat, op. 99, one easily detected the explosion of romantic expressivity found in the composer. One often lumps Schubert with Beethoven because of the proximity of their deaths, but as he matured Schubert showed all the signs of being a composer of the next generation. One could say that in Schumann, Brahms and others, one hears echoes of and references to Beethoven, while we rarely hear the later composers in him. With Schubert, though, Lyrica brought forth the many foreshadowings on composers that followed.

Laura and Mariel Bossert played the charming violin sonata with grace and elegance. While appropriate to a work much in common with Mozarteans like Hummel, a bit more interpretive fire would have gone a long way to taking the piece somewhat beyond the salon. Still, the melodic lines flowed with ease as musicians played in perfect balance.

Guido Ruland followed with a selection of nine exquisitely sung Lieder. Schubert might not have invented the *Lied as an art form, but he certainly brought it to new levels as was clearly evident in the array of beautiful melodies, effective harmonies, and expressive nuances in matching musical and poetic images. Ruland's sweet lyrical baritone movingly resounded in the small church, creating a warmly intimate atmosphere. His quiet manner increased the intimate sensations as he moved effortlessly through songs of love, dreams, secrets and roses. It is almost unfair to single out any of all the well-rendered works, but some stood out for me. Heidenröslein was magically sung as Ruland caressed every phrase and gave meaning to every word and note. An der Musik was an excellent tribute to art. Of all, however, it was the Wanderers Nachtlied that contained the most magic in its all too brief poignancy.

Great as everything previous had been, the meat of the concert was the powerful Trio in B-flat. Here one could truly discern Schubert as a new voice, a composer heralding a new era as, in fact, he did in so many works of his last two or three years. Where Beethoven expressed his thoughts and, to some extent, his feelings, Schubert and the later Romantics expressed their deepest emotions in a soul-baring manner not imagined by earlier composers. Schubert's *Andante un poco mosso was heartachingly beautiful, performed in a way in which the audience shared the most profound emotions depicted by composer and performer, thereby being touched in the most private way in reference to the listener's own experience. The *Allegro moderato was impassioned and emotionally gripping, and the *Scherzo was a welcome bit of warm conviviality before it exploded with emotional expressivity in the finale.

When listening to Schubert's late compositions performed with this level of artistry and expression, one feels totally absorbed in the early statements of full-blooded romanticism.

Light and space
Oh those nicknames!
Sunday, October 19, 2003
By Paul M. Somers

West Jersey Chamber Symphony, Joel Krott (conductor). 'Haydn: the First Great Symphonist.' Overture in D major, Symphony no. 82 in C major ('The Bear'), Symphony no. 45 in F-sharp major ('Farewell'). First Presbyterian Church, Moorestown.

A concert titled 'Haydn: the First Great Symphonist' was impossible to resist, especially with the concert being played by the West Jersey Chamber Symphony. Conductor Joel Krott is a scholar/conductor, so the point of view he brings to any of his performances is one which is historically informed (though using modern instruments and techniques) with a great deal of energy and stylistic accuracy.

The penchant for naming Haydn's symphonies inevitably surfaced, on this occasion providing the 'Bear' and the 'Farewell.' But the concert opened with a rarely heard Overture in D which proved to be one of the evening's delights. Given a performance filled with lightly detached bowing and impeccable *intonation, the music was light and filled with the spaces both long and short which are a hallmark of Haydn's music. The *monothematic work defines its structure in tempo changes and in strategically placed *fermatas, both of which Mr. Krott handled with technical ease. It was in this regard a proper precursor to the remainder of the evening.

The *Sturm und Drang *6/8 opening of the 'Farewell' moved along relentlessly. The predominant 'di-dah' rhythm of the *Adagio rightly asked the listener which is more important: its own insistence or the elements which are not in that rhythm. The *Menuet, with its very strange phrase lengths and its sudden stop when the correct number of measures has elapsed, was so well defined that even those not specifically aware of the oddity knew something weird was afoot.

After the players zipped off the Finale's *Presto in fine form, the *Largo 'farewell' section, while it received the chuckles it should as the members of the orchestra left the stage, kept its philosophical laud to chamber music intact.

The trouble with programming this work is its nickname. Conductors invariably place it last, and then are stuck with the slow and increasingly soft music and the case of the disappearing orchestra. How to gain proper recognition for a fine orchestra in the face of this is then the problem. Perhaps a temporary absence is the answer: place it before the intermission and don't bother having the players come back on. Or, most radically, open with the work so the players can come back on, get their acknowledgement, then stay on stage and play a concert which ends with a real flourish.

Certainly that would have been the preferred order in this concert, for the performance of the rowdy 'Bear' symphony would have been a perfect concert closer. While we were told that various rumbling bass lines suggested the nickname, for my ears it was the 'growling' timpani of Susan Jones which invoked the eponymous critter. Very non-ursine was the spectacular stratospheric horn playing of Adam Lesnick and Kathryn Mehrtens.

Where Haydn was clearly not interested in even suggesting a social dance as the basis for the 'Farewell' *Menuetto, Mr. Krott took the Menuetto of the 'Bear' at a tempo which was quite danceable. The final *musette is probably the true source of the nickname with its suggestion of the dancing bear so beloved of eastern Europeans. Whatever the source, this performance was great fun.

The curved ceiling of Moorestown's First Presbyterian Church can play havoc with acoustics. Downstairs, depending on where one sits, an individual instrument can be isolated and its sound bounce off the ceiling directly at one's seat. I tried the balcony and did not get that odd effect (an aberration which also happens at the Count Basie Theatre and the Bergen PAC). But I really couldn't believe that, with the violins sawing away on a repeated tone as an accompaniment they were allowed to cover the actual melodic material in the bass line. Mr. Krott could not have intended it to be that way. So perhaps the balcony has its own problems.

A spiritual landscape in New Jersey
English folkways
Thursday, October 23, 2003
By Paul M. Somers

New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Jane Glover (conductor), Garrick Ohlsson (piano). Britten: Suite on English Folk Tunes, 'A time there was'; Mozart: Piano Concerto no. 22 in E-flat major, K. 482; Frances White: Centre Bridge (dark river) for String Orchestra and Electronic Sound; Haydn: Symphony no. 31 in D major ('Horn Signal'). Heard in the Bergen PAC, Englewood.

The concert proved to be a look back and a look forward for Bergen County audiences. The look back was provided by Garrrick Ohlsson, the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra's soloist of the evening, who pointed out that he had given a solo recital in the John Harms Center way back in 1971, a time when he also played with the NJSO under Henry Lewis. The look forward was the announcement from the stage of the reconstitution of the theatre after its closing last spring. Now the organization has been renamed the Bergen Performing Arts Center at the John Harms Center. It will be interesting to see what people call it now - still John Harms, perhaps Bergen PAC, or even the BPAC - but certainly not the whole mouthful. In any case it was wonderful to see the place full and to find the staff smiling happily as they took tickets and helped patrons find their seats. Bravo to all those who made it happen.

The concert itself was an example of programming that is stimulating while being friendly to an intelligent audience. The presence of Britten made sense for any conductor, but especially for conductor Jane Glover, Commander of the British Empire. Mozart and Haydn represented the old standard bearers of European culture, and New Jersey's Frances White was given a premiere. With such variety, no wonder the theatre was quite full!

Ms. White's Centre Bridge (dark river) is a reworking of an NJSO-commissioned chamber piece played several years ago by a string quintet of NJSO members during a concert of music by New Jersey women composers. In both chamber and string orchestra guises it also includes a recording of sounds garnered at Stockton along the Delaware River. Centre Bridge, which connects New Jersey and Pennsylvania at that point, has a surface of metal grating that hums as each car goes over it. Running water and tires humming were the two sounds which Ms. White then took into the lab and worked with to her satisfaction. The use of two contrasting ideas tied the piece easily into the continuum of music history. To this listener the water seems to have remained unaltered in the lab, while the tire-on-grating hums with their Doppler-effects have become luminous and provide the primary musical motif of a *slide up or down a *minor third.

The string orchestral part she has laid upon her recorded tapestry is gently spiritual. The effect is that of an American Arvo Pärt: angelic string sounds, repetitions with direction, 'bells' in the air, and the evocation of a mystical landscape. Even had I never been to the Delaware at Stockton I would have drawn a sense of its aura from the music. But, of course, I have been there, and can report that in its quiet and undramatic manner Centre Bridge (dark river) is as perfect a description of a place as, say, Gershwin's Paris or Richard Strauss's alp.

Garrick Ohlsson played the wonderful E-flat Piano Concerto by Mozart, K. 482. He is a pianist who can wrestle with either Brahms concerto, at least the big two by Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky - in short the big concerti. So to hear him bring that level of technique to Mozart is a bit like using an Indy race car to go shopping downtown. But music is not an automotive sport, and the tangible presence of massive power held in abeyance only heightened the reality of Ohlsson's impeccably stylish restraint. Every nuance was surrogate for a later composer's rush of notes, every accent a tasteful substitute for a crashing chord. There was as much, perhaps more delight in this noble and witty Mozart concerto's performance than would have possibly emerged from a full-blown late-19th-century block-buster. Conductor Jane Glover kept the orchestra and soloist together ably.

Where she brought the most obvious impact was the Suite on English Folk Tunes, 'A time there was S' by Benjamin Britten. The piece is not familiar to American audiences or orchestras. Glover clearly knew the score at a level deeper than required by practical musicianship. The tunes and the composer's treatment of them are so personally idiosyncratic that from the first measure one knew the composer's identity. The ensemble under Ms. Glover's leadership was bracingly crisp and tight.

There are several solos which obviously come from the pen of the man who composed 'The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra.' Randall Hicks got a timpani workout and Lise Nadeau Harman did a fine job with one of Britten's idiomatic harp solos (she was, no doubt inadvertently, not given a solo bow). Most fun was the viola sectional solo in 'Hunt the Squirrel' in which they did some fast country fiddlin'. Britten in his renaissance mode ('Hankin Booby'), one he used heavily in his opera Gloriana, has woodwinds and trumpet over a tenor drum.

The longest and most penetrating solo was Andrew Adelson's. The english hornist reached the heart of the matter with lush phrases which achieved Britten's instructions: slow and languid.

This opening work's many solos turns made a programming balance with the Haydn 'Horn Signal' Symphony (no. 31) which concluded the concert. In spite of its title, the piece is filled with solos for others as well. Amongst them the audience favorite was Paul Harris's on double bass. So rarely heard as a solo instrument by orchestra audiences (chamber fans can point to several in their repertory), it was not only the novelty but the excellence which impressed. Associate Concertmaster Brennan Sweet and flutist Kathleen Nester also kept to their usual high standards in prominent solos.

But there the unreserved kudos cease. The eponymous horn signal, a rising octave, always found the upper pitch a touch flat. So in spite of other exemplary horn passages, the 'title' section was never in tune.

The cello solos unfortunately served only to demonstrate that one cannot take Haydn for granted, especially in solo cello writing, and here his music was in grave need of further practice.

The performance was saved by Ms. Glover's sure hand with Haydn's style and the orchestra's ensemble precision.

An encore was offered - the finale to Mozart's Divertimento in D. It afforded us a chance to hear the second violins shine as they flew through their busy part.

Superior ensemble
An intergenerational audience
Friday, October 24, 2003
By Paul M. Somers

Chamber Music at Great Gorge: Caterina Szepes, Peter Winograd (violins), Calvin Wiersma (viola), Michelle Djokic (cello), Agatha Carubia (soprano), Gail Niwa (piano). Schubert: Quartettsatz, D. 703; Debussy: Ariettes oubliées; Falla: Two songs from Siete canciones populares españolas; Chausson: Chanson perpetuelle, op. 37; Schubert: Piano Trio no. 1 in B-flat major, op. 99, D. 898. St. Francis de Sales Church, Vernon.

Once again the Chamber Music at Great Gorge concert felt like the gathering
of an extended family. Kids were quite apparent, and folks not yet sporting the gray hair which causes so much worry among marketers were in abundance. Of course there were seniors as well. In short, this is an organization which in its five years has managed to craft itself as truly intergenerational.

Most of the first half of the program featured soprano Agatha Carubia, a singer who, at least on this occasion, showed a great deal of affinity for the French and Spanish repertoire. As she sang Debussy's Ariettes oubliées each emotional state was sustained and projected with deeply credible reality. Accompanist Gail Niwa's pianism in the composer's characteristic style supported the impressionist view that time had stopped leaving a single emotion to expand into the vacancy.

With Michelle Djokic's cello added, a welcome contrast was provided in two of de Falla's Siete canciones populares españolas which convey striking differences in style from the French. 'El pano morun' (The Moorish Cloth) was quintessentially an evocation of the nobility of the Spanish-Moorish ethos, the respect and tragedy born of the conflict between the two cultures. The text itself is a metaphor for the fate of the Moors at the hands of Ferdinand and Isabella in particular and their predecessors in general:

On the fine cloth in the shop
there fell a stain;
it sells at a cheaper price
for it has lost its worth. Ay!

The Moorish influence in the music was presented with idiomatic understanding by all three. At first glance the text seems pointless, but the composer and his living collaborators suggested the history lying at its center with subtle sorrow.

The other Falla song, 'Jota', provided some humor otherwise missing from the concert. The blithe circumventing of a mother who has forbidden her teen to see her sweetheart is lighthearted. Falla is always so attractive when he allows himself to go lightly, even gently satirically (just listen to The Three Cornered Hat), so to hear Carubia, Niwa, and Djokic being so cutely Spanish was delightful.

Then it was back to the French ethos as all the evening's performers performed Ernst Chausson's moody, even mysterious Chanson perpetuelle. The string quartet of Caterina Szepes and Peter Winograd, Calvin Wiersma, and Djokic with pianist Niwa provided the suggestive (rather than discursive) setting of a 'lost love' poem.

It is easy to simply shake one's head over the Gallic penchant for expanding on such matters. While they have the reputation for being great lovers, it so often seems that their art works are about various reasons for being absent from said person, usually permanently.

Given the mood, Chausson's constant use of mutes on the strings depicts the sense of distance immediately. This also makes the high *forte in the violin all the more tense as it is achieved with the mute still in place. The cello's solo became even more moodily dark with the mute creating a barrier between tones and listeners rather like a scrim for a stage production.

At the end of her set, the audience let Ms. Carubia know that they had enjoyed her performance greatly.

The evening concluded with Schubert's *Piano Trio in B-flat major, a relatively late work. The inimitable Peter Winograd now played first violin. There his 'trumpet' fanfare in the first movement was electrifying. And his *forte-piano attacks in the second were vivid. But not all the honors were his as Ms. Djokic's big solo in the Andante soared.

With Ms. Niwa's eyes keeping contact with the other's as often as with the notes on the page, the ensemble was impeccably sharp-edged. But it was not merely a matter of being together for attacks and releases; it was in the corporate understanding of dynamic levels, particularly where they change, that the ensemble was most remarkable. Even at the level of fine nuance all three were of a mind.

This same attention to all aspects of ensemble was obvious as the concert opened with the famous Quartettsatz by Schubert. The wide dynamic scope and its enhancement of the already energetically bustling music were the perfect exposition to the audience of the virtues which were in place all evening.

At the conclusion of the concert the flower brigade of girls, some quite young, brought all six players back to the stage for their bouquets. Just one hint to audience members: if you don't know a piece of music (in this case I speak of those who did not know the Piano Trio), don't be the first to applaud! Schubert's grand pause got loud applause before the players began playing again. He pulls this in the 'Trout' as well. Probably Schubert's joking intent was, indeed, to pull the unwary off-guard, but do we have to take 'authentic performance practice' to that length?

A young man's music.
Joy and sadness expressed
Saturday, October 25, 2003
By Robert W. Butts

New Philharmonic of New Jersey, Leon Hyman, (conductor), Lenore Fishman Davis (piano). All-Mozart: Divertimento in D, K. 136; Symphony no. 29, K. 201; Piano Concerto no. 9, K. 271. Presented at the Community Theatre, Morristown.

It's no real surprise that when one hears a concert devoted to a composer's youthful compositions one discovers them filled with youthful vigor and enthusiasm. When that young composer is Mozart, of course, one also finds works filled with extraordinary melodic wealth, creative depth and touches of warmth, sentimentality and pathos.

In a brilliantly performed and masterfully conducted concert, Maestro Leon Hyman and the New Philharmonic of New Jersey dazzled an enthusiastic audience at Morristown's Community Theatre in what Hyman hailed as the opening night of our "second 25 years, the first step towards the orchestra's Golden Anniversary." When you do the math that figures to be celebrated around the year 2028.

The evening opened with the popular Divertimento K. 136 and Symphony no. 29, both written during the composer's years as a young adult, defined for Mozart the composer as approximately between the ages of 16 and 21. In hearing the two pieces together, I was reminded of just how imprecise structural categorizations were in the mid-eighteenth century. The Divertimento (like the more famous and chronologically later Eine kleine Nachtmusik) is equally at home as a piece for string orchestra or string quartet. Musically, it contains most of the same elements and compositional features as a large number of the period's symphonies. In fact, were one to add horns and oboes to the divertimento in a stylistically appropriate manner, all that would separate the two pieces would be the symphony's inclusion of a very small-scaled minuet. Listening to the works performed with Hyman's intelligent approach, at times one could distinguish a symphonic weight in the divertimento and a playful sense of divertissement in the symphony. But these are subtle differences distinguishing two equally entertaining works.

In both works the orchestra positively sparkled, casting off rapid *passagework as if the music sprang naturally from the strings. Themes were well-crafted through effective dynamics, and articulations were impressively executed in full ensemble. The sound and energy emanating from the stage filled the hall with an almost rapturous enjoyment of life. Yet with all the energy and fast-paced vitality it was the Divertimento's slow movement that proved most memorable. Here, as everywhere during the evening, Hyman's tempi were perfect for the music. Where some take this movement at a romantically slow speed, Hyman took the *Andante designation seriously and pushed the movement at a steady walking pace. The sheer beauty of the writing remained but was made more effective through the sense of restlessness and urgency imparted by the feeling of motion. Mozart's slow movements frequently contain his most profound thoughts and are frequently his longest, thereby becoming the emotional heart of his large compositions. Few of them, however, are truly "slow" movements. When performed with the understanding of and attention to musical balance and pace heard in the New Philharmonic's performance, a deeply moving and soulful Mozart comes to the fore, even in his most youthfully entertaining divertimentos.

Pianist Lenore Fishman Davis joined the orchestra after intermission for a delightful performance of Mozart's Concerto no. 9. Though generally neglected in favor of the later concertos, the early ones contain much of the same wonderfully youthful music heard earlier in the program and are as entertaining as the larger-scaled works written after the composer had moved to Vienna.

Davis played with elegance and grace, finding a perfect balance between personal expression and classical decorum. One was well able to feel the little nuances of interpretive emotions yet never lost the sense that the form is a play of themes and motives. Especially in the finale, Davis captured the wit and playful humor Mozart injected into his score.

Once again, however, it was the slower middle movement that moved on most deeply. Suddenly thrust into a minor key, the music had a disturbing, aching quality. Davis and the orchestra poignantly projected the warm, soulful quality in ways that held the audience in breathless suspension, aware only of the beautiful sounds enveloping the room.

One can never know, despite all the letters and documentation surrounding the composer's life, precisely what Mozart thought or tried to express in his music. The fast movements of the evening's selections contained exhilarating joy. At the same time, the slower movements reveal a deeply sensitive soul realizing that life is a constant balance between joy and sadness, a balance articulated perfectly by all performers on an evening of Mozartean splendor.

Carmen appeals again
A Richard Strauss recommendation
Sunday, October 26, 2003
By Mark A. Miller

Boheme Opera of New Jersey, Boheme Opera Orchestra and Chorus, and members of the Passaggio Youth Corale, Joseph Pucciatti (conductor). Bizet: Carmen. Carmen: Lori-Kaye Miller; Don Jose: Thomas Roche; Escamillo: Daniel Sutin; Michaela: Adina Aaron. Patriots Theatre at the War Memorial, Trenton.

A virtuoso orchestrator himself, Richard Strauss claimed: "If you want to learn how to orchestrate, don't study Wagner's scores; study the score of Carmen." What exact role orchestration plays in Carmen's fabulous success these past 128 years can't be measured, nor can its storyline, lyrics, or staging; despite it all I arrived at the theatre musing, "Oh not again", for I've heard the score so many, many times.

Happily, I can report that once Joseph Pucciatti gave the downbeat, the melodies began to flow, refreshing my captivation with Carmen anew. The lively, fast-moving Act I prelude promised an afternoon that would be, and was, indeed, conducted with spirit and flair, performed by talented players in careful support of cast and chorus. Introduced here is the motif which threads its way throughout the opera foretelling of Carmen's fate.

As plots go this gem, taken from the novel by Prosper Mérimée, combines an array of human passions mixed in with moral convictions, familial devotion and topped by genuine lust creating a tragically doomed stew. In the hands of librettists Mérimée's tale is bleached of much of its original crude and vulgar colorations in order to appeal to a Parisian audience who preferred the more refined storylines.

Carmen speaks of conflicts and struggles, within and without; of morality and devotion, lust and danger, and the influence of fate. Even in its "cleansed" version 1875 Parisian audiences responded with hostility; but beauty will out as untold audiences have proven by their affection for this operatic masterpiece. Bizet died shortly after Carmen's premiere, convinced his opus maximus was a failure. If only he could have known.

Lori-Kaye Miller provided the character of Carmen with appealing touches as she went about her mischief, conveying seductive, at times ruthless, messages. In her singing and gesturing Ms. Miller was in control, rehearsed, confident. Her Act I 'Habañera', rhythmically entrancing for Don José, was adapted by Bizet from a book of Spanish songs published by Yradier. No matter, this is powerful stuff, clothed in song. Again, in the 'Seguidilla', Carmen employs her wiles, in song and dance, to win over Don José, which she does with fateful and disastrous results. The castanets made him do it.

The Michaela of Adina Aaron, singing an obviously less volatile role, won over the audience's favor with her acting skills and in arias that demonstrated fine projection of her warm voice. We were especially struck, as we should be, by Michaela's Act III aria. Musically, this aria represents
the apex of the opera and of its story. It seems transcendent beyond any human's ability to produce, its melody and development simply luscious. I enjoyed it to the point of wishing she had more to sing.

Don José (Thomas Roche) worked well with Ms. Miller, though appearing more at ease when relating to Michaela. I felt his 'Flower Song' was convincing enough that Carmen should have been kinder to him.

Daniel Sutin's first notes as Escamillo brought to his audience a full, rich baritone sound with exciting projection, a standout vocal performance. In his 'Toreador's Song' - arguably the opera's best-known aria - Escamillo tells of his skill and bravery in the bullring. Mr. Sutin acquitted himself nicely. Reegan McKenzie directed this production; colorful sets and costumes, a well-rehearsed company and chorus, including an effective children chorus, all made for an enjoyable afternoon at the opera.

The large number of Boheme Opera's loyal fans properly reflect the hard work, devotion and money-raising efforts that make these valuable local presentations a reality.

Germanic music in New Brunswick
Organist-composer in recital
Sunday, October 26, 2003
By Paul M. Somers

Music at Historic Christ Church. Trent Johnson (organ, First United Methodist Church, Westfield). Buxtehude: Toccata in F, BuWV 147; Mozart: Andante in F, K. 616; J. S. Bach Trio Sonata in C minor, BWV 526. 'Five Chorale Preludes' - Bach: Nun komm der heiden Heiland, BWV 659, Wir glauben all' einem Gott, BWV 680; Trent Johnson: Prelude on 'Vruechten' (1997); Reger: Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, and Vom Himmel hoch, da komm' ich her, opp. 67, nos 51 and 42; Bach Prelude and Fugue in E minor, BWV 548 ('The Wedge'). Richards, Fowkes and Company organ, Christ Church, New Brunswick.

What a nice organ!' exclaimed Trent Johnson, as members of the audience came to greet him after his hour-long recital on the still-new Richards, Fowkes organ at New Brunswick's Christ Church. Nearby, the parish's organist Mark Trautman, who gets to play it every day, smiled broadly upon overhearing the comment. It seems to be a comment he is used to hearing.

On this occasion the attribute of linear clarity was displayed in several Germanic manifestations. Even Mr. Johnson's own music was conceived in the time-honored Germanic idea of the *chorale prelude.

Johnson saved the most spectacular demonstration of his art for last as he took on the obstacles of Bach's formidable 'Wedge' Prelude and Fugue in E minor. So nicknamed because of the fugue's pattern of pitches moving apart from each other and thus looking like a wedge on the page, the piece calls for virtuosic playing. Swiftly running passages and *chromatic writing make parts of the music nearly *non-tonal. Johnson was flawless as he executed the difficulties. The audience of strangers and friends (mostly the latter, one must admit) were in the happy position of being able to give him a very well-deserved standing ovation.

The concert began with Dietrich Buxtehude's Toccata in F, *BuWV 147. It was an opening tour de force well placed to balance the final Bach 'Wedge' fugue. Buxtehude has the complexity of Bach but without Bach's desire to explore every element of the material. Buxtehude, whom the young Bach traveled on foot for several days to hear in Lübeck, was given his full masterful due by Johnson. Too many like to play his music a bit lighter than Bach to emphasize the greatness of the latter. But Johnson played his music as if it were a pre-existing standard which Bach felt compelled to meet. While Bach was the most represented composer, Johnson also included two pieces which had a sweetness less often found in the Saxon master: his own Prelude on 'Vruechten' and Max Reger's two Christmas preludes. Johnson's was in some respects like an *etude in *sixths with the chorale melody buried in the midst of the flowing passage work. Reger's approach to the subject matter surrounding 'Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern' (How brightly shines the Morning Star) includes a lovely little quote from 'He shall feed his flock' from Handel's Messiah - sort of a reminder that December is on its way. In all these works Johnson picked *registrations which created distinct voices but in a complementary way. He used *mixtures sparingly and therefore to striking effect.

In the final fugue of the Bach Trio Sonata in C minor the *dux was a line filled with *harmonics, while the others kept their places in the *trinitarian hierarchy with less brightness.

Early in the program Johnson 'tested' the ability of the flute stops to hold interest on their own by playing Mozart's Andante in F, K. 616. This very sophisticated late work was composed for a mechanical instrument which ran by clockwork, often referred to as a flute-clock. The light hint of *chiff on the attacks defined the pitches in the same way that a slight detachment produces a 'string-of-pearls' clarity of line in Mozart's piano music. For all that other works in the concert were dramatic and technically showy, the sheer elegance of this Mozart invention made for a well-balanced musical meal.

Monmouth Symphony Orchestra, Roy D. Gussman (conductor), Leon Knize (clarinet), Lynne Cohen (oboe), Ivy Haga (bassoon), Sara Cyrus (horn). Rimsky-Korsakov: Grand Russian Easter Overture, op. 36; Mozart: Sinfonia Concertante for Winds, K. 297b; MacDowell: Suite no. 2, op. 48 ('Indian'). Count Basie Theatre, Red Bank.

MacDowell has fallen out of fashion. So the chance to hear his 'Indian' Suite no. 2 was irresistible. I can think of no other orchestra in the state, or even the region, which would program this piece. Yet it is quite attractive and well worth hearing.

Yes, it is big bold German Romanticism, but so what? America has been a nation of immigrants, and here the immigrants are celebrating in their own way the natives whom they have displaced. The result is an American *Ma vlast as it were, 'My country'. Each of the five movements depicts a scene from Native American culture as understood in the late 19th century. Each could stand alone as a tone poem, but when done together we hear a piece of grand scope which left the audience asking why it wasn't done more often. After In War Time with its violent ending, the 'Dirge' is very effective. MacDowell provides a depth to the picture of mourning by placing both a horn and a trumpet off-stage so their sound becomes otherworldly. On the other hand, the final 'Village Festival' becomes far more rowdy than anyone's village anywhere is likely to achieve. Indeed, Wagner's influence is most felt in this movement where it sounds as if the Hall of the Gibichungs and Valhalla collapse as in 'Brünnhilde's Immolation' right in the midst of the village gathering. But it is no doubt intended as an apotheosis of the mix of savagery and nobility ascribed to the Natives (while conveniently forgetting the same mix in the white and black invaders).

The Monmouth Symphony Orchestra gave the performance the full measure of its mixed abilities. The ensemble is semi-pro, but for this piece the 'pro' was far and away the predominant feature. Robust yet nuanced, careful yet not overly cautious, this was true music-making.

The Mozart Sinfonia Concertante for Winds, K. 297b (K. 297a uses flute instead of clarinet, a later substitution), featured soloists from the Red Bank Chamber Music Society. Of course we heard the Managing Director of the Society, 80-something clarinetist Leon Knize, and can happily announce that he has recovered from surgery and sounds better than ever. He took advantage of his recovery period to practice, practice, practice. Each of the players impressed with shapely solos and virtuosic turns in the final variations movement.

The MSO strings had the occasional intonation problem. But that's Mozart for you: no place to hide. Yet it was clearly played by people who understood the difference in approach between Mozart and the two late-romantics who bookended the concert.

The afternoon began with an 'out-of-season' autumn performance of Rimsky-Korsakov's Grand Russian Easter Overture. Conductor Roy D. Gussman, whose work and commitment paid off handsomely for the whole concert, chose to lead with his usual strong suit, the trombones. On this occasion the section's intonation was a bit iffy at times. But individually, the players impressed. Not only Ernest M. Tegeder's solo turns but concertmaster Nicholas Szucs' solos were excitingly on the mark. It was a splashy concert opener.

Ravi Shankar and Anoushka Shankar (sitars), with Tanmoy Bose and Arup Chattopadhyay (tablas). Two ragas and a mixed styles finale. Prudential Hall, NJPAC, Newark.

When Ravi Shankar and his daughter Anoushka came to Prudential Hall last fall, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to hear a "battle of the bands" Indian style. Anoushka was slightly indisposed, so did no solo performance without her famous father on stage. Ravi, now 83, carried the load at the beginning of the concert with Anoushka on stage to join in some of the playing.

The evening-long byplay between father and daughter was exciting, but could have been even more so had the amplification system been set up in stereo. Though we could clearly see that Ravi, tablist Tanmoy Bose and their drone player were playing on the left side of the platform, their sound came out of all speakers equally. This meant that when Anoushka and her tablist Arup Chattopadhyay and drone began we could only tell by watching, not by listening. A bit of that old-fashioned "ping-pong" effect would have been more effective.

Even with Anoushka on stage, this writer had a major 1960s flashback. I first saw Ravi Shankar in Bailey Hall at Cornell University about 1962, back in Shankar's pre-Beatles days. Younger folks think that George Harrison discovered the sitar, and so he did as far as pop music goes. But the full house at Bailey was already appreciative, partly because of Yehudi Menuhin, who could far better be said to be the Western musician to have discovered Shankar.

After all these years there was no sign of diminished technical facility. His fingers found their way meditatively over the fingerboard, bending a pitch here and there. When the tempo picked up, those fingers flew securely all over the instrument.

There were times in the first half when he motioned for Anoushka to take a turn, but she as often as not declined and let her father continue. When she did join in she was at the same level of excellence. There were several occasions during the evening when both played, their interplay creating harmonic and melodic tensions which sometimes approached *bi-tonality. This was especially noticeable in the massive post-intermission improvisation which, unlike the two ragas already heard, shifted gears several times and became more a mélange of pitch and rhythm patterns. As the players made their transitions from one to the next, rather striking harmonies emerged as by-products.

It was in this latter part of the concert that father and daughter - to audience left and right respectively - each with their own musical entourage, got down to the "battle". No longer bowing out when offered a chance to solo, Anoushka displayed her full creative and technical powers. The two imitated each other in a spiral of increasingly intricate licks, and when the tablists took over, it was just as intensely competitive. As each player met a challenge just laid down by the other, then upped the ante, there were smiles onstage and off and at times some approving laughter. It was what jazz musicians used to call a "cut session," but without the rancor which could sometimes surface in those back-room musical brawls.

It being a Hallowe'en concert, when the six players came out for the second half of the concert they were all wearing masks, which was greeted with applause and laughter. At the conclusion of the long improvisatory romp which made up the second half of the concert, the mostly - but not exclusively - Indian audience erupted in applause.

An insight into the reason American culture is feared and disliked in other cultures was offered in the scene which played out in the row of seats in front of me. An Indian family sat there. As soon as the lights came up for the intermission the two teens whined that they wanted to go home. "This is boring," said the boy, picking on the usual complaint of over stimulated children. "This is so irrelevant!" shrilled the girl, somehow forgetting that she has (or had?) a richly known heritage. They were forced to stay and hear the rest of the "boring, irrelevant" concert. Take this small victory for MTV and corporate America and multiply it culture by culture, continent by continent and it's no wonder that American culture is both desired and feared.