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Northern Lights Festival
Re-discovering the future
Tasting the Northern Lights Festival
January 4, 2005
By Amanda von GoetzNorthern Lights Festival presented by the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Neeme Järvi, Music Director Designate; Joseph Horowitz (host), Per Tengstrand (piano), Bart Feller (flute), Carolyn Pollak (oboe and English horn), Karl Herman (clarinet), Robert Wagner (bassoon), and Chris Komer (horn). "Festival Sampler." Billy Johnson Theater, Newark Museum, Newark.
The New Jersey Symphony Orchestra's Northern Lights Festival gave a "sampler" performance introducing elements of its promised programming during the succeeding three weeks. Without implying that the participating NJSO musicians' performances were any less impressive than usual, the real stars of the evening were Wilhelm Stenhammar (1871-1921) and Carl Nielsen (1865-1931). While these composers are by no means new to the circuit, they are, perhaps, re-rising stars.
Host Joseph Horowitz introduced us to guest pianist Per Tengstrand, who stood before the piano and delivered a brief monologue with intensity and a clear wealth of knowledge about Stenhammar's piece Late Summer Nights. Tengstrand reminisced about his early days in his native Sweden, touching upon the enchanting and seemingly endless summer nights. As with all high-latitude countries, the sun does not dip below the horizon deep enough for the sky to grow dark, and luminescence continues well into the night. It has become somewhat of an acclaimed romantic ideal in that part of the world, to stand peering out from a bridge at midnight, the sun beating down on lovers and speckling the river with gold, as everyone toasts Utopian ideals in celebration of the oncoming sunset. Yet Late Summer Nights No. 1 (*"Tranquillo e soave") with its calm rolling harmonies and broad use of register is also about the sense of loss when longer nights encroach as summer comes to an end.
It was with ease that Mr. Tengstrand found a unique paradox of sound - a hybrid of hollow shininess and round fullness - both within the confines of the Tranquillo. As a synesthesiac (hearing sounds and as a result envisioning specific colors), this reviewer might be tempted to compare the work to a hue of blue-grey, much like a very pale twilight. Regardless of how Tengstrand achieved this finely crafted bit of pianistic coloring, the result was undeniably effective. The artist also had no trouble finding the grand arch of the music as it swept up to a climax in the midst of the piece and faded out again towards the end.
As we had now become acquainted with Tengstrand's reflective and refined pianistic qualities, it was now time to hear what the man had to offer in conversation. As if settled in someone's living room (before about 250 people in the Newark Museum's Billy Johnson Theater), Tengstrand joined Mæstro Järvi, and Joseph Horowitz near stage left for a brief and rather informal discussion about the music of the "greatest unsung composers." The gentlemen gave some insight to the lives of Danes Niels Gade and Carl Nielsen, Estonian Rudolf Tobias, and Swede Wilhelm Stenhammar. The audience was fully attentive, receptive to more than a simple history lesson. Järvi went on to explain how the political environment of each respective nation formerly under the Soviet Union affected the quality (and quantity) of pride reflected upon the country's national treasures - its composers. It was clear that he was rightly emphasizing the cultural differences and individualism of Estonia as an independent nation, rather than simply as part of "Mother Russia." More importantly, it was evident that Järvi took it upon himself to program and perform the Northern Lights Festival out of pure moral concern that, while the already recognized great music should undoubtedly be played, there is also an abundance of equally great music not typically being played.
One of the featured pieces of the Northern Lights Festival was to be the Stenhammar Piano Concerto no. 1 with Tengstrand as soloist, who spoke articulately and with great feeling about his experience with the work: "The piece is so wonderful, and seems to grow even more so each time you hear it. The first time is impressive, the second even better, but the third - it is simply amazing."
Another central conversational piece took the form of a preview from the award-winning Swedish documentary film Solisten (The Soloists) directed by Magnus Gertten and Stefan Berg. We were only given a sneak peek of a moment or so in the film which shows the evident chemistry between Järvi and Tengstrand during a rehearsal. Tengstrand proved himself to be a respectful and integral musician, listening carefully to Järvi's anecdotes and suggestions. A credit also goes to the conductor for enabling his partners to feel at ease enough to ask any questions or offer their opinions. The man seems completely free of pretense, which is most impressive for a conductor of his stature and experience.
The evening closed with the Nielsen Wind Quintet, Op. 43, played vivaciously by musicians of the NJSO. Bart Feller (flute), Carolyn Pollak (oboe and english horn), Karl Herman (clarinet), Robert Wagner (bassoon), and Chris Komer (horn) all sounded in top form. The piece itself is a three-movement work brought to life with bouncy "catchy" tunes and a variety of characters. The third movement's main theme is based on the hymn My Jesus, make my heart to love thee, a sacred tune that Nielsen himself composed and then varied. Each player took the time to speak to the audience about their approach to the piece, a particularly enlightening part of this trip into little-known music (although all woodwind quintet players know it). It was a stellar performance.
The point of the evening (and of the festival) rang loud and clear. As the cliché has it, music is an international language. It certainly has the communicative power to overcome boundaries set by country borders and governments' rules. We learned that a composer's recognition can suffer due to nationalism. The Northern Lights Festival is an optimistic effort to correct this historical bias as it finally brings justice to music formerly judged as great, denied for nearly a century, and now re-emerging to enrich our modern concert scene.
Additionally, through the Festival the NJSO will help create a healthy solution to one of classical music's ongoing problems: statistics show that there is a staggering gap between the historical repertoire written, and repertoire that is actively or frequently performed today. This Festival will not only open doors and cross borders, but more importantly will invite audiences and musicians alike to share in the abundant wealth of the unknown or rarely performed. The Festival Sampler was the perfect appetizer for what will surely be a most scrumptious musical feast.
Name that tune?
Uncovering lost masterworks
Thursday, January 6, 2005
By Paul M. SomersNew Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Neeme Järvi (conductor), Per Tengstrand (piano). Sibelius: Finlandia, op. 26 (1900); Wilhelm Stenhammar: Piano Concerto no. 1 in B-flat minor, op. 1 (1893); Rudolf Tobias: Nocturne (orchestrated by Eduard Tubin); Johan Svendsen: Symphony no. 2 in B-flat major, op. 15 (1877). State Theatre, New Brunswick.
Pre-concert: Joseph Horowitz (host), Per Tengstrand (piano). Introduction to Wilhelm Stenhammar: Late Summer Nights, op. 33; Fantasy, op. 11.
The Northern Lights Festival's first full concert concentrated on works rarely heard outside of Scandinavia. These were not esoteric modernist pieces. Each "new" work was over a century old and worthy of a place in the "standard repertoire", a term which becomes even more ludicrously limiting after this concert. If only concert designers of the fearful-of-modern-music sort would give their listeners the variety they crave by programming these works! Well, we in New Jersey don't have to worry about that!
The New Jersey Symphony Orchestra was in top form, living up fully to the self-stated wish of the players to be as good as any of the "big-five". Festival consultant Joseph Horowitz by chance had found a seat behind mine. After an absolutely riveting concert-opening performance of Sibelius' Finlandia he leaned over to me and said that he fears New Jersey audiences don't really understand how good the NJSO is, that this performance was as good as it gets anywhere. About seeing our own orchestra as innately inferior because it is from, well, you know, New Jersey, he hit the proverbial nail right on the head.
The evidence of excellence continued as Wilhelm Stenhammar's monumental - 40 minutes - Piano Concerto no. 1 featured Per Tengstrand. It proved to be a work which reveals how much the sound we associate with Rachmaninoff was really part of the style of the period. There was no copying by either composer, for both Stenhammar's concerto and Rachmaninoff's first date from the same year. During his lifetime the composer was highly regarded as was the concerto. Indeed, Richard Strauss conducted it with the Berlin Philharmonic with the composer at the keyboard. Just why it has fallen into disuse may be the subject of a cultural history essay, but it is a grandly sweeping work with "the big tune" to hang on to. Shifts of mode from major to minor are quite striking. The short Scherzo proved to be lively and witty with a funny and sudden ending featuring a bassoon solo that is cut off in what seems like mid-phrase.
The Andante should be known as one of the most gorgeous outpourings of late romanticism. It featured an oboe solo exquisitely played by Carolyn Pollak. Since we were warned by Tengstrand that the concerto ends softly, some in the audience mistook the ethereal conclusion of the slow movement for the end and applauded. But they were quieted with a wave of the hand and the finale commenced with a surprise. This was at first no longer in the coeval style with Rachmaninoff. The main *rondo tune was a precursor by more than twenty years of the quirky melodic shapes of Serge Prokofiev. The treatment and the episodes between its statements were still in the earlier style, but one had to wonder if young Serge had heard Stenhammar and been taken with the imaginative melodic shape. As for the soft ending with its religious intent, it was a mostly woodwind chorale supporting piano colorations. With its quite unique coda this work stands alone among major concerti, in its own way foreshadowing only Berg's heavenly ending to his Violin Concerto.
Tengstrand proved to be a major force at the piano. Not only did he play the lengthy work masterfully and convincingly, but in a pre-concert event he played two solo piano works by Stenhammar. The op. 11 Fantasy was right out of the Lisztian playbook with rip-roaring technical demands and show-stopping execution. But the real find was Late Summer Nights, op. 33. A sad work (late summer in Scandinavia means the coming of the long, long winter nights), its level of *chromaticism gradually increases creating
spirals of emotional intensity which any pianist worth their salt would love to evoke. It is, frankly, a masterpiece which should unquestionably be in the standard piano repertoire.After Tengstrand finished the concerto, the audience gave him a standing ovation and brought him back for many bows. Finally, conductor Neeme Järvi ushered the soloist back to the piano and in his accustomed role of "Encore-meister" repeated the Scherzo. The audience loved it and brought them all back again.
The "usual suspects" on a list of string orchestra pieces which have real substance and are worth hearing is not so long. Several started out as string quartet movements, most notably Samuel Barber's all-too-famous Adagio. Rudolf Tobias (accent first syllable), Estonia's first professional composer, produced his String Quartet no. 2 in 1902 and its "Night Piece" or "Nocturne" slow movement was orchestrated by Eduard Tubin in 1939. It is one of the finest of the genre.
Johan Svendsen's Symphony no. 2 from 1877 reminds one of Dvorák. They don't sound at all alike, but both have assimilated the folk idiom of their native land and integrated it into their symphonic writing without sacrificing structure or becoming simplistic. The orchestra, again facing music never even dreamt of in their student *excerpt books, still pulled off the performance with panache. The only moment one might call "serious" is a dark moment in the finale, but the work is still substantial. Horn and clarinet solos by Lucinda Lewis and Karl Herman respectively were first rate. Overtly folk elements are introduced only in the "Intermezzo" where a bagpipe-like *drone supports a *modal melody. Robert Wagner was asked again to play "cute" as this movement ends with a bassoon solo which drew smiles.
Again there was a well-deserved ovation. The orchestra had kept up its Finlandia level and the "new" music lived up to its promise. But after a few bows the applause shrank to a trickle. So Järvi came on stage again, standing behind the first violins, and training the New Brunswick audience in his ways: he showed them that a bit more applause was necessary by clapping his hands a few times. There was laughter and he was returned for his requisite encore.
But after the laughter, this was a serious piece played in remembrance of those who died and were bereft in the tsunami disaster in southeast Asia. The Berceuse by the Finnish composer Armas *Järnefelt (Sibelius's brother-in-law) was one of the most perfect works for the occasion. Scored for two clarinets, bassoon, two horns and muted strings, it was a lullaby for someone asleep forever. Eric Wyrick's and Jonathan Spitz's affecting solos were heartrendingly restrained.
During intermission Star-Ledger music reviewer Fred Kaimann asked some of us who were chatting together, "What do famed Argentinean writer Tomas Eloy Martinez (author of Santa Evita) and Swedish pianist Per Tengstrand have in common?
Answer: They both live in Highland Park, New Jersey (as does Mr. Kaimann) right across from New Brunswick.
"English Viola Romances." Brett Deubner (viola) with Barbara Ann Biggers (harp) and Andrew Lamy (clarinet). Ralph Vaughan Williams: Six Studies In English Folksong; Rebecca Clarke: Prelude, Allegro & Pastorale; Benjamin
Britten: Elegie; Sir Arnold Bax: Fantasy Suite."Viola Dreams." Brett Deubner (viola) with Gary Kirkpatrick (piano). Sulchan Zinzadse; Georgian Dance; Dmitri Kabalevsky; Improvisation on Film Music to "A Night In Saint Petersburg"; Bohuslav Martinu; Sonata no. 1; Gabriel Faure: Apres un reve; Franz Liszt: Romance Oublieé; Paul Hindemith: Sonata op. 25, no. 4; Modest Mussorgsky: Tears; Constantin Dimetrescu: Village Dance; Johannes Brahms: Sonata, op. 120, no. 2 In E-flat.
Violist Brett Deubner has two releases available that do much to promulgate the soloistic capabilities of the viola. Strongly defined and articulate playing combined with complementary programming and accompanied by world class colleagues insure that these two discs must become staples of the viola catalog.
The viola with its heavier strings - a fifth lower than the traditional violin tuning (paralleling the alto voice) - and its mellower tone, have combined to make it an instrument that had been more or less shunned in the solo spotlight since its invention in the 1500's. It was originally utilized for harmony only, often holding a bass line, leaving the melody to its higher sister the violin or its distinctly more powerful cousin, the cello. It wasn't until the later 1800's and early 1900's that the viola was given more and better parts to play, although it should be pointed out that Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven were held in high regard as violists. And then there are the stereotypical beliefs that have taken root over the centuries. The suggestion that violists play the instrument because they aren't good enough to be violinists; or that its tone is undignified and not as lush as the violin. The viola actually has a deeply burnished tone and when played by someone with a formidable technique, can emit quite lustrous and beautiful sonorities. Such a player is Brett Deubner.
Mr. Deubner's disk of English compositions is exquisite beyond words. The Vaughan Williams Six Studies was originally composed for cellist May Mukle in 1926, but Williams created versions for violin, viola, and clarinet as well. The Studies are not simply arrangements of the original folk songs but highly creative extemporizations on the melodic and harmonic possibilities in miniature. They are short, sweet, and succinct, and Mr. Deubner's playing is heartfelt, with pinpoint pitch and rhythmic vitality. Ms. Biggers' harp accompaniment balances Deubner's playing with beauty and nuance.
Rebecca Clarke's compositions in general are stamped with a highly individual persona: an intensity and passion wedded to her love of French impressionism, English folk song, and a modernist's penchant for dissonance. She worked with Vaughan Williams, and he encouraged her exploration and use of English modalities to reinforce her ardor for the music of both Debussy and Ravel. Her 1941 Prelude, Allegro and Pastorale for viola and clarinet demands virtuosic command of rhythm and harmonics. Both Deubner and clarinetist Andrew Lamy are up to the challenge, playing with poignancy and wit, offering dazzling displays of rich color and sonority on their respective instruments.
Benjamin Britten's Elegie is a short bon-bon which Mr. Deubner imbues with wondrously delicious legato and depths of emotion.
Ms. Biggers is back with Deubner for Sir Arnold Bax's Fantasy Suite or Sonata. This is typically atmospheric music the likes of which Bax excelled in composing. Beauty of tone and sound are given top priority, although that is not to diminish the overall shape and masterly construction of this piece. It was composed in 1927 to highlight the capabilities of harpist Maria Korchinska. Mr. Deubner brings out all of the tart and tangy qualities of the viola part while Ms. Biggers creates a luminous sound world that perfectly complements Duebner. Together they create an intellectual and expressively emotional reading.
The second disk entitled "Viola Dreams" is a misnomer if one is expecting music that relies heavily on romantic reverie. Instead, it is a disk which showcases the myriad qualities of Mr. Deubner's technique and emotional palette. The music on hand encompasses the light, i.e., Sulchan Zinzadse's Georgian Dance, to Hindemith's impassioned and at times stridently dissonant Sonata, op. 25, no. 4. The disk is less thematically linked than the English program, offering instead a dazzling showcase for Mr. Deubner's diverse interpretive talents.
The Georgian Dance is sprightly and engaging with Mr. Deubner and pianist Gary Kirkpatrick having a real dialogue in this short composition, both with dramatic counterpoint in the piano and warmly centered tone in Mr. Deubner's viola part.
Kabalevsky's Improvisation on Film Music to "A Night In Saint Petersburg" is another short offering but one that is full of an undulating modal quality that blossoms into piquant outbursts form the viola. Mr. Duebner's pizzicatos are perfectly rendered.
Martinu wrote his two movement Sonata No. 1 in 1955 as a commission from Lillian Fuchs. The music is filled with a homesick melancholy Martinu felt at this period in his life. The piece is centered on its melodic content more than any sense of harmonic exploration and is freer in form than other works by Martinu. It asks the piano to hold the center, which Mr. Kirkpatrick does admirably in the opening movement, building in power throughout, as a counterpoint to Deubner's cascading viola figures. Deubner attacks the opening of the Allegro non troppo agitatedly but soon gives way beautifully to a see-sawing cantabile quality that defines the emotion at the core of this work.
There are four other short pieces on the disk in which Deubner captures all of the qualities of the music ably, whether it is Liszt's larger than life personality, which infused all of his compositions, even his shorter more contemplative pieces, such as the Romance Oublieé; or a true sense of poetic reverie and eloquence in Faure's Apres un reve; or the earthiness and primal energy at the heart of Mussorgsky's Tears, or the charming bucolic quality to be found in Dimetrescu's Village Dance.
Paul Hindemith's Sonata op. 25, no. 4 is a work of musical contrast with the piano playing a highly prominent part. It gives a sense of being a duet rather than for viola with piano accompaniment, in spite of the fact that Hindemith switched from violin to viola early in his playing career and was one of the pioneers in making the viola a solo instrument of note. The work overall is more concerned with line and contrapuntal energy than thematic exposition per se.
The first part is dominated by the piano, which in fact opens the piece with an extensive solo. Mr. Kirkpatrick offers both nuance and insight with refined articulation and exquisite pedalling to offset the driving rhythms which predominate the piano and the viola part. The second movement takes a sharp turn from the first section with a passionate monologue for the viola offset by a bell-like chordal part in the piano. The finale asks both players to play percussively; finally giving way to a moto perpetuo. The work has a distinct eastern European taste to it, and that quality too is encapsulated in the masterly performances engendered by Deubner and Kirkpatrick.
Brahms' Sonata 120, no. 2 in E-flat major is a work that has a relaxed quality to it. That is not to downplay its serious or rigorous nature. The violist must produce a singing tone throughout the first movement and Deubner is more than willing to comply. Brahms masterfully unfolds the melodic content and manipulates the two parts in the score so that they combine into singular textural synthesis, asking that the performers never lose sight of the classical sonata form or content. Passion and drama are the order of the day, and Deubner and Kirkpatrick deliver in spades. This is gorgeous playing and a total realization of the composer's intent.
It is not so surprising that Deubner and Kirkpatrick are so simpatico in this work (and throughout the disk) as they are partners with clarinetist Lamy in the highly acclaimed world-class Halcyon Trio.
Multi-lingual evening
A chorus with a mission
Saturday, January 8, 2005
By Paul M. SomersCoro Lirico, Italo Marchini (conductor), Jocelyn Lieberfarb (soprano), Mariana Karpatova (mezzo- soprano), Guillermo Lagundino (tenor), Luiz-Ottavia Faria (bass), Warren Helms (piano). First Baptist Church, Morristown.
Coro Lirico is a chorus devoted to opera. Though they have done the Verdi Requiem, they are unlikely to take on Palestrina - unless it's the Pfitzner opera of that name from which they could sing the "Chorus of Dead Composers and Angels."
Their concert of selected opera choruses and arias showed a degree of stylistic versatility as we heard music from Russian, Italian, German, Viennese, American, and French operas.
When singing big, vigorous music the chorus was in great shape. The "Victoria" opening of Weber's Der Freischütz certainly found them as believable German villagers cheering at a shooting match, not some church choir in masquerade. And the "Prayer" from Rossini's Mosé was some of the finest choral singing of the evening.
Conductor Italo Marchini determined that he would let the audience hear the complete "Bridal Chorus" from Wagner's Lohengrin instead of just the part many brides use to get them down the aisle. It was a great idea, and quite authentic "opera house chorus" singing with a few sopranos warbling a bit too much in the upper reaches of the "B" section. No doubt Herr Wagner himself had to contend with some sopranos with what the Germans term a Schmetterling (butterfly) in their voices.
American music was represented in a lovely performance of the "Shepherd's Chorus" from Menotti's Amahl and the Night Visitors. And of course we got to hear an old favorite in the good old "Anvil Chorus" from Verdi's Il trovatore.
Mr. Marchini kept up a stream of amusing banter between works. It was mostly effective, though sometimes he made so much fun of the music that he belittled it. He was right on target with his comments on the aria "La calunnia" (Calumny, or Rumor) from Rossini's The Barber of Seville. This he described as "politics as usual." And he made his point that all it took was one person to yell "war" in Act I of Verdi's Aïda to get everyone on the band wagon. "Sound familiar?" he asked.
To spell the choral singers there was a quartet of soloists:
Soprano Jocelyn Lieberfarb was the least effective because she had some real problems in her *pasaggio, where her voice suddenly dropped in power. The higher she went in Puccini's "Vissi d'arte" from Tosca the better.
Award-winning mezzo-soprano Mariana Karpatova, with a powerful low register, was tremendous in "Pauline's Aria" from Tchaikovsky's Pique Dame. Later she "sold" the "Seguidilla" from Bizet's evergreen Carmen. Keep your eyes open for her name; she has roles coming up here in New Jersey.
Tenor Guillermo Lagundino sang a lovely "Una furtiva lagrima" from Donizetti's L'elisir d'amore, his phrasing quite heartfelt. But when he let loose with "Dein ist mein ganzes Herz" from Lehar's Das Land des Lächelns, it wasn't just lovely: it was blockbuster singing.
Bass Luiz-Ottavia Faria, who sang "Calunnia," did it as a "character" piece in which he fought a tendency to go sharp. But when he let his basso flow without any pushing, his "Infelice" from Verdi's Ernani was exquisite.
The evening concluded with all and sundry, including quite a few in the audience who knew it, singing Verdi's "Va, pensiero" from Nabucco. It is certainly a chorus with a long and meaningful history - the unofficial anthem of the Italian risorgimento, and sung spontaneously by thousands at Verdi's funeral, but equally touching as the piece which drew the composer from the depths of despair after losing all his family to illness within a year. When the chorus is sung, it carries all that history on its wings of sound.
It was an evening of operatic fun with a moving conclusion.
Coro Lirico sings Verdi's Aïda in the Presbyterian Church of Madison at 8:00 on Saturday, March 19. They sing Weber's Der Freischütz in the First Baptist Church of Morristown on Friday, June 8, with Eve Queler conducting. Look for the listings.
Analysis of a depressive
Dr. Kogan reveals Tchaikovsky's inner life.
Sunday, January 9, 2005
By Paul M. SomersRichard Kogan, M.D. (pianist/lecturer). The Life and Music of Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Including a performance of Piano Concerto no. 1. Music Building Theater, The College of New Jersey, Ewing.
When Dr. Richard Kogan gives a lecture-recital, it is far from the general rehash of a composer's life with little examples thrown in by the lecturer. His "Dr." is an M. D., and he is a psychiatrist. So when Dr. Kogan took up the subject of Tchaikovsky, anyone who knew much at all about the composer ahead of time was eager to hear Kogan's insights. Those who knew nothing except some of the tunes from Nutcracker and maybe confused one Russian melodist, Tchaikovsky, with another Russian melodist, Rachmaninoff, found themselves unexpectedly immersed in a dark world of melancholia, forbidden homosexuality, a disaster of a marriage, and ultimately suicide. Kogan spared us nothing, nor did we want to be spared. It was riveting, even for those of us who knew the general biographical outlines, for it was the psychological and forensic details as well as the music, that drew the full audience of the Mercer County chapter of the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI) to the Music Hall at The College of New Jersey.
We learned that Tchaikovsky was constantly depressed, unable to experience pleasure. He found alcohol to be his only solace and was drunk every evening. Demonstrating this depressive state, Kogan played an early Romance which was already emotionally charged, even in a supposedly "up" middle section. The youthful piece ends in despair nearly as deep as the last work he composed, the finale of his Symphony no. 6. The composer's downward spiral did not end with cholera, as has long been taught. Neither the symptoms as described by friends nor even the time it took him to succumb match up with the disease. Instead, it has recently been demonstrated with much more certainty that Tchaikovsky took arsenic.
Of course this all was the result of a society which held homosexuality to be such an abomination that, when his preferences became apparent, he was told by a "court" of sorts to kill himself. He did, but not with the pistol which was no doubt suggested.
Those who have attended Kogan's lectures before also knew to expect a first-rate piano recital. He has, after all, taken a dual track of music and medicine. Rather than water both down, he has managed over the years to keep both at a high level, and he out-did himself this year. Lacking a live orchestra, he brought along a CD player and performed the Piano Concerto no. 1 using a recording which leaves out the piano part. While the job of synchronizing the living solo with the recorded accompaniment could seem tedious and quite possibly filled with odd misalignments, in Kogan's performance there was not a thing out of place. Yet this was not some coldly metronomic reading; *rubato abounded, tempo and dynamic nuances gave the music life, and even the cadenzas felt as improvisatory as if there were a live conductor only feet away waiting to cue the orchestral forces at the soloist's pleasure.
After the event,m Dr. Kogan expressed a desire to do the same program with live musicians and a full orchestra. It would be a great experience, and we can only suggest that someone take him up on it soon.
Dr. Kogan did, however, have some live collaborators. His 13-year-old daughter Rebecca played the violin and 14-year-old Rachel the cello as the family ensemble played the final coda to the monumental Piano Trio. This is, of course, a real finger-buster for the pianist. The girls both proved to be fine chamber musicians with Rachel producing a particularly sensitive big cello solo. They were certainly a prime rationale for nepotism.
It's not that Dr. Kogan is lacking in well-known adult colleagues. He has worked with Yo Yo Ma and Hugh Wolf, in fact years ago making Mr. Wolf his brother-in-law. But it was certainly a heart-warming experience to see how music keeps this family together with mother beaming in the front row.
Other psychological dissections and recitals which Kogan has delivered in past years for NAMI-Mercer have been Schumann and Gershwin. We've heard it suggested that if Dr. Kogan returns next season (and we certainly hope he does!) the subject will be Beethoven. Even the briefest glance at his biography makes it clear that he is a worthy subject both psychologically and of course musically.
Dr. Kogan has a DVD of his Schumann lecture. It sadly lacks the spontaneity of his live presence. The camera shots seem unrelated to the flow of his text, moving at their own speed in some other plane of logic. But Kogan's playing is, as usual, excellent. You'll get the information you want on Robert Schumann, but you will have a better sense that "The Doctor Is In" when seeing and hearing him live and in person. Perhaps that is how he should make his next DVD - have it done unobtrusively in front of an eager audience including reaction shots of the listeners. No group could be more apt than NAMI-Mercer!
Neeme Järvi's first season
Caution the byword
By Paul M. SomersThe New Jersey Symphony Orchestra announced its 2005-2006 season at an afternoon public gathering on the stage of Newark's Prudential Hall on Tuesday, January 18. It reflects the economic realities for the arts in our times: next season's classical concerts are cut back from 67 to 57; there is an obvious conscious effort to bring in audiences with conservative programming; and the appearances of some big-name soloists (pianists Vladimir Feltsman, Emanuel Ax, and Yefim Bronfman, and violinist Gil Shaham) seem aimed at filling seats - a most practical and laudible goal.
Other soloists are already highly regarded, if not yet household names: pianists Marc-André Hamelin, Jie Chen, and Jonathan Biss, as well as violinists Janine Jansen and Julian Rachlin. Five members of the orchestra - concertmaster Eric Wyrick, principal clarinetist Karl Herman, principal second violinist Francine Storck and assistant principal violinist Rebekah Johnson, as well as assistant principal cellist Carole Whitney - will also be soloists in an eveing of Italian music. All are first rate and favorites with subscribers. The presence of only two "hired in" female instrumental soloists is a reversal of the positive trend of the past few years, as is the complete lack of female guest conductors. Thank goodness for the three women from the orchestra's ranks to give some sense of balance.
Among those all-male guest conductors are Lawrence Foster, Douglas Boyd, Gilbert Varga, Bernard Labadie, Feltsman, Kwamé Ryan, and Vassily Sinaisky, with the latter the best-known and for good reason.
This year's Northern Lights Festival has revealed some rare treasures from Scandinavia. This writer is thrilled to hear music by Stenhammar, Tobias, and Svendsen. Next season continues the trend by including works by Alfven and Tubin, both of whom deserve to be better-known. Arvo Pärt will also make an all-too-brief appearance.
Next year is the centennial of the birth of Dmitri Shostakovich, so we will hear his Symphony no. 6 and his Violin Concerto no. 1 with Rachlin. Shostakovich was missing from the orchestra's repertoire for a long time due to former music director Zdenek Macal's personal antipathy to the composer, so "Shos's" re-entry is welcome and apt. Another anniversary is celebrated in the 2006 winter festival: the 250th of Mozart's birth. Of course Mozart is worth celebrating 365 days of the year, but this will have all the requisite extra events that the NJSO winter festivals have historically contained.
It is Järvi's contention that as the "inventor" of the modern orchestra, Haydn must be a large part of an orchestra's repertoire. Therefore he has programmed the "Surprise", the "Miracle", the "Drumroll", and the "London" Symphonies. These are, of course, all wonderful works. We look forward in upcoming seasons to hearing some other less well-known Haydn symphonies - we trust no. 44, the "Mourning" will be scheduled sometime soon.
There will be Saint-Saëns and Ravel to represent France with Chopin thrown in as well to represent Poland and France simultaneously. Elgar, Parry (thank goodness we finally get to hear him), and Britten represent England. As if Shostakovich weren't enough, we also get Rachmaninoff twice, Glinka twice, Tchaikovsky twice, and Mussorgsky to make sure we don't forget the Russians. And speaking of former Soviet bloc nations, we even get to hear Romanian Enescu.
The ever-so-prevalent German/Austrian school certainly gets its usual due. Not only is there the Mozart bash and Haydn emphasis, but predictably Schubert, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Brahms, and Mahler all surface riding their war-horses.
Then there is the special holiday concert co-produced with the NJPAC featuring none other than famed soprano Reneé Fleming singing opera, Lieder, and holiday songs.
Think it'll all sell? Oh yes, especially with a weekend of as yet unannounced light classic favorites also scheduled.
But what is missing from this picture? Not just women.
American music! that's what!
Especially with Järvi's well-earned reputation for performing and recording Harris, Piston, Schuman, and others of our own "lost" 20th century American-school composers, we had expected to see American music as a prominent feature of the season. Well, here's what next year brings Americans of our own music: Barber's Overture to the School for Scandal (thank goodness it isn't the Adagio . . . again), and the world premiere of Charles Coleman's Red Oak Dawn (the red oak is New Jersey's state tree). That's it!
After such promise laid out during the "Roots of American Music Festival" two years ago, and the equally promising "Dvorák in America Festival" last year, we held out great hopes that a theme was developing, that especially in a post-September 11 ethos a higher degree of national pride would be inserted into the NJSO's programming.
While we support the orchestra, love Järvi's manner and musicality, and even understand that such ultra-conservative programming is meant to sell out the house, we shall not hide our grave disappointment.
This is America. Give us some of our own music that we have been denied for decades, indeed, for a over a century-and-a-half instead of giving us nine Russian works and even three English compared to two fairly short American works.
Dare we suggest what seems to be nearly impossible as an annual (rather than occasional) occurance?: this is New Jersey, let's hear some of our own state's composers. That distinction seems to be left to the Colonial Symphony of Morristown, and thank goodness for them.
Recent years have brought works by (alphabetically) Koren Cowgill, Genevieve Manion, David Sampson, Randall Svane, and Raymond Wojcik, to name but a few off the top of my head, to New Jersey audiences in Colonial concerts on an annual basis.
Northern Lights Festival III
Between Mahler and Ives
Thursday, January 13, 2005
By Paul M. SomersNew Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Anu Tali (conductor), Yujia Wang (piano). Gade: Hamlet Overture, op. 37 (1861); Grieg: Piano Concerto in A minor, op. 16 (1868); Sibelius: Symphony no. 5 in E-flat major, op. 82 (final 1919 revision). Prudential Hall, Newark.
The Northern Lights Festival made another convincing argument for expanding the range of so-called "standard repertoire." The Danish composer Niels Gade (1817-1890) is "known" to many piano students because Robert Schumann used the letters of his surname to open "Nordic Song" from his Album for the Young.
But Gade was far more than a cryptic four-note motive. He was a major symphonist represented in this Festival only by his Hamlet Overture, op. 137 (1861). Though it lacks the scope of a symphony, it captures the mood of the Shakespearian play immediately with a very effective dead-march which also concludes the piece. Interior music is both motivic and melodic and always well-crafted, the whole showing more care for musical structure than for chronological depiction. The horns and trombones had some great moments to show off. We trust that in the future we shall have some of Gade's larger works presented.
Sibelius, Symphony no. 5 in E-flat is for many people the favorite of the seven, though the Second is still perceived as most popular. Conductor Anu Tali did not shy away from the Fifth's radicalism except, of course, by using the revised version in which the composer tones down some of the even more radical statements of his first version. In her reading we heard Sibelius achieve a middle-ground between Mahler and Ives, both his contemporaries. Mahler believed that a symphony created a whole world, and he tended to present that world sequentially. Ives also created works including diverse chronological and spiritual states which he often presented simultaneously, rather in the manner of Marcel Duchamp's seminal painting Nude Descending a Staircase, also from the same early 20th century period. Sibelius moves in a sequential manner but has no qualms about placing the beginning of one event over the end of the previous one, thereby toying with Ivesian simultaneity. The results are often raw *polytonal dissonances. Even his "unlayered" sections contain *minor seconds which tug at the ear until they do finally resolve.
These clashes are made all the more obvious since most of them pit one choir against another. Woodwinds and brass often find themselves in different keys at transition moments, an effect which is as spatial as it is aural as two parts of the stage do battle. It was once the vogue to dovetail these clashes "neatly" with one group dying out as the other grows. One barely notices the conflicts in those mid-20th century readings by the likes of Sibelius supporters Ormandy and von Karajan.
But Ms. Tali clearly looked upon those very moments as crucial, demanding that they be given their full power. Sibelius is not clever or intellectual like Milhaud or Britten with his polytonalism; his is brash, at times nearing pugilism setting one back in one's seat, a battle of Titans.
This sets up the magnificent finale with its pealing horns (horns, yes; but they also act as "bells" announcing a victory of some sort). Lucinda Lewis led her clan with eloquence through the heroically wide-leaping horn calls, but everyone on stage shone. Ms. Tali handed out solo bows liberally and deservedly so; and when she motioned for tympanist Randall Hicks to take his, the orchestra members applauded along with the audience.
Edvard Grieg's masterful Piano Concerto in A minor was given its full virtuosic value by pianist Yujia Wang, a student at Curtis Institute in Philadelphia. Every note was clear, her technique in perfect running order, and her *dynamics expressively wide ranging. She was at her most exquisite in the most delicate moments, particularly in the *Adagio. But when she needed power to cut through the full orchestra, she had it to spare.
Had Ms. Wang ever been to Norway or made a point of looking at photos? Or were her evocations of nature simply a careful rendition of what is on the page? The cheering audience didn't care and leaped to its collective feet instantly.
I, too, thought she was wonderful. But in my "perfect world" I would have liked to have heard the previous week's pianist, Sweden's Per Tengstrand, play the Grieg immediately thereafter as a comparison to hear if there would be any "linguistic" difference.
Northern Lights Festival IV
Music for the whole performer
By Paul M. SomersNew Jersey Symphony Orchestra pre-concert "Interplay: Sibelius and Finland." Pekka Kuusisto (violin); Ulla Suokko (flute); Montclair State University Chamber Singers, Heather Buchanan (condutor); New York Kalevala Trio: Aili Flint, Tuomas Hil, and Suokko. Joseph Horowitz (host).
Any worthwhile festival is more than a big orchestra letting loose with the big pieces. And so it was that the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra's Northern Lights Festival used small means to produce large results. The "Interplay" resulted in a deeper understanding of Sibelius, the national Kalevala epic, and through them both Finland and Finnish music in our time.
It also gave New Jerseyans cause to be proud of its own. For the Montclair State University Chamber Singers proved to be a major force. While we have recently had cause to comment on the large choir's excellence (see v. 5, no. 8 review of the Lord of the Rings Symphony), this select ensemble provided a few selections of modern Finnish choral music, singing works by Jaakko Mantyjarvi (b. 1963), and Rautavaara (b. 1928). The latter's music is occasionally heard in the USA and is highly respected.
The most recent was Mantyjarvi's 1994 Pseudo-Yoik, a folk-inspired work using nonsense syllables. This is, indeed, a global village, for the rhythmic male grunts reminded me of the scene in the New Zealand film Whale Rider where the tribal leader teaches the Maori boys to make the very same sound.
Another fascinating element of the score was the change in vocal timbre where nasal singing was indicated at times. This proved to be part of a theme which went through the evening: writing for the full performer, not merely the usual means of communicating with sound with a little body english thrown in.
Kaija Anneli Saariaho's amazing Laconisme de l'aile (1982) for solo flute began with Ulla Suokko speaking a text in French by Saint-Jean Perse. As she read she gradually brought the flute to her mouth so it began to make sounds as she read. Finally and seamlessly the flute took over somewhere in mid-speech. In addition to producing the tones, her performance was all about the sensuality of breathing. Inhalations were heard not as an annoyance but as an integral part of the piece, making a fully artistic realization of John Cage's idea that everything is part of the performance.
This played directly into the New York Kalevala Trio's telling of some of the tales from the epic. Aili Flint (she heads the Program in Finnish Studies at Columbia University) and Tuomas Hil (a Finnish native who graduated from England's Guildhall School and now acts in New York) did the speaking while Ms. Suokko improvised on the bass flute. It raised the experience of the stories to a new level for those who already knew them, and proved to be an excellent introduction for those who didn't.
The audience understandably included more Finns than usual. Some mouthed whole passages as they were spoken in Finnish before they were said in English. At times it was reminiscent of the presentations of Beowulf in Old English which have been given in New York City.
Violinist Pekka Kuusisto played Aulis Sallinen's Cadenze (1965), written for the Sibelius Competition and so good that it is kept in the repertoire. It was but an appetizer before the "full Kuusisto treatment" which followed in the main hall concert. (see below)
As part of the Festival, students from Columbia High School (South Orange/Maplewood) and Shabazz High School (Newark) have had visits from Festival artist Per Tengstrand and host Joseph Horowitz. After the Interplay they assembled in a private room in the NJPAC to further discuss what they had just seen with Flint and Suokko.
Northern Lights Festival V
Astonishment
By Paul M. SomersNew Jersey Symphony Orchestra, Neeme Järvi (conductor), Pekka Kuusisto (violin), Tuomas Hil (actor). Nielsen: Maskerade Overture, op. 39 (1906); Sibelius: Violin Concerto on D minor, op. 47 (1903, revised 1905), and Four Legends from the Kalevala (1893-95, revised 1897, 1900, 1939). Prudential Hall, Newark.
The audience leaped to its feet applauding Pekka Kuusisto's performance of Jean Sibelius, Violin Concerto. Indeed, they soon began the European practice of "rhythmic clapping" to bring him back to the stage.
On stage there were some string players who tapped their bows on the stands, their version of applause, but there were some who did not. Among musicians, a generally conservative lot, Kuusisto's performance was highly controverial.
Dressed not in formal-wear but in a black, long-sleeved fisherman's jersey, he had already set himself apart from everyone else on stage before he played a note. Then he began the work with the merest whisper of a sound and played it non-vibrato as if he were playing a renaissance viol or a bowed psaltery. I had never before heard anything like this beginning. What emerged was a completely personal use of the work. There was no attempt to play "what Sibelius would have wanted" (whatever that might be). This was Kuusisto delving into the Kalevala and perhaps other more personal matters in a deeply subjective narrative manner while playing the notes that Sibelius supplied. It was all delivered with the same freedom with which an actor invests a Shakespearian role. All the words are the Bard's, but the reading is the actor's alone.
At one point Kuusisto stepped backward as if physically struck by a chord in the music and even rocked on his heels. At another time he played a little motive quietly and again with no vibrato, all the while crouching a bit and peering toward the upper tier box seats. Everyone understood that the violin was a bird and he was seeking it or being it. In short, Kuusisto took a piece which is nominally *pure music and turned it into a richly *programmatic experience, filled with speech nuances and *rubato which it took a true *mæstro like Neeme Järvi to effectively lead and an orchestra like the NJSO to follow.
Kuusisto connected with the audience because he left nothing in reserve. What he had to say was his and his alone, and he gave it all away to the audience without holding back. He moved around but was never mannered; he did "quirky" things but not affectedly. It was an astonishingly free performance, bound to no conventions, a part of the same cultural ethos which allowed flutist Ulla Suuokko to use far more than her lips and fingers to play the Laconisme and to wander the aisles of the "Interplay" while "telling" a narrative with the bass flute (see previous review).
But was it Sibelius?
One senses that Kuusisto would not find that a question worth asking. "When we play Bach, is it really Bach?" we might hear him ask. Indeed, he played some unaccompanied Bach as an encore and it was just as personal, though not the same at all. There were no stories or acting. He stood nearly stock still and allowed his violin, now employing a very baroque approach to vibrato, to speak things he could not have said in words. It was communication at a very intense level.
But, again, were they the scores Sibelius and Bach composed?There is the rub for those who actively disliked his performances.
He certainly played the right pitches and kept the rhythms intact enough that his stretching and pushing were experienced as big rubato, not outright distortions. Many parts of the score were heard in fresh new ways: I had never before heard the exquisite conversation between the solo violin and the solo viola before, and Frank Förster's echos of Kuusisto were perfectly matched.
Even those who loved it must, however, admit that this was a performance which no one could or should try to imitate. It is Kuusisto's alone, and anyone else trying to play it his way would be wearing someone else's clothing; they would sound false. The underlying challenge which the violinist delivered was for all artists to "leave it all on the stage," to make a piece their own and inhabit it fully without worrying about the intentions of the composer unless that person is alive, and maybe not even then.
The drama on stage was just beginning with Kuusisto's performance. Before each of the movements of Four Legends from the Kalevala by Sibelius, Tuomas Hil recited from memory descriptive portions from the national epic. Bawdy (Lemminkäinen is a major-league skirt-chaser) and dark (Tuonela is the land of the dead and he is dismembered while visiting there), Hil animated the subject to the point that the otherwise episodic "Lemminkäinen in Tuonela" movement made some narrative sense to a non-Finn. Hil shared with the audience that he is from Lapland where "I actually have two reindeer of my own."
While the whole orchestra was in fine fettle, Andrew Adelson's long english horn solo in the famous "Swan of Tuonela" movement was exceptional. He was given a major bow at the conclusion which the audience acknowledged with cheers in the midst of the heart-felt applause. The woodwinds and brass were precise and vigorous as each had its turn with the snappy tune which finally emerges in Lemminkäinen's Homecominng (after his dismemberment, he is stiched together by his mother, so he is then able to go home). The concert began with Carl Nielsen's Maskarade Overture. It is an exciting piece which received a performance which was brilliant because of its precision and spirit.
If I have a complaint about the Festiva, it was that we didn't hear enough Gade and Nielsen to make their major importance clear. But that is mere nit-picking.
Operatic laughs
A word about product placement
Saturday, January 15, 2005
By Paul M. SomersRidge Light Opera of New Jersey: "Operagious!!" Selections from Donizetti's Don Pasquale: Dennis Jesse, Steven S. Timoner, Patricia Vigil, David Perper, Bob Lanza; Mozart's Abduction from the Seraglio: Timoner, Marc Persing, Vigil, David Root, Lauran Fulton Corson; the complete Offenbach Orpheus in the Underworld: Lara Wilson, Corson, Root, John Hammel; Joanna Hoty Russell, Vigil, Randy Parker, Jesse, Susan Kirkland, Perper, Elaine Gennaro, Angela Billings, Erik J. Ransom. Presbyterian Church, Madison.
One would have to think long and hard to remember anything so "operagious" as Ridge Light Opera's version of Offenbach's Orpheus in the Underworld. I guess it would have to be the late-lamented Opera Festival of New Jersey's Mikado back in their days at Lawrenceville School. The Orpheus program used the word "translation" for Robert Derwae's English, but "paraphrase" is more like it. Just as is always done with Gilbert's lyrics and librettos, this version was so up-to-date (Jupiter to the too-bouncy Mercury: "Have you stopped taking your meds?") that there was even product placement. If they didn't make a buck or two when they had Pluto show up on Olympus with buckets of KFC as an alternative to ambrosia, then the development director was missing a great opportunity.
Of course, some of the absurdity of the 1858 original stands up. It's still funny to have a chorus of Greek Gods singing the Finale to Tableau II to the words, "Off we go to Hell," which is what it is in the original French. But hardly had Tableau III begun when the character John Styx delivered a monolog which was almost actionably close to any and all Rodney Dangerfield routines.
The large cast and chorus were very funny (the "Yawning Chorus" had the audience in stitches), but best of all, the singing was solid. Lara Wilson as Public Opinion, the modern version of a Greek chorus, was a vocal force as well.
Lauran Fulton Corson sang the role of Eurydice. In her lower register she had a distressing wobble, but when buzzing in the "Fly Duet" and when reaching into her highest registers it disappeared. She had the comedy timing and visual takes in complete working order.
John Hammel drew immediate laughs as the country bumpkin Aristeus, and even bigger laughs when he morphed into Pluto, the god of the Underworld. He handled his strong and secure tenor, one of the largest voices on stage, with such ease that his many comedic turns were never forced.
Mercury (David Perper), Juno (Elaine Gennaro), and Jupiter (Dennis Jesse) were a wonder as they accurately spit out the words of the *patter song "I hop! I hop! I flit and flutter!" which soon became a production number of riotous proportions.
The wit was not all text- and acting-based; in "The Metamorphoses Rondo" there is a major quote from Christoph Willibald Gluck's famous 18th century opera Orphée et Eurydice.
Michael Borowitz, the first-rate pianist who sat upstage, sometimes interacted with the players. He brought not only the expected accuracy but as much comic timing and almost slapstick wit to the production as the official actors.
The evening began with two "vest-pocket" operas, reduced from their full two act lengths to about 20 minutes each. They featured excellent singing, But pretending that either actually was even a brief representation of the actual opera was a disservice to the living audience and the dead composers
and librettists.The star of Don Pasquale was, as always, Norina, here portrayed by the sprightly and vocally agile Patricia Vigil. What a ball of fire she is with *fioritura to burn. Both baritone Jesse as Dr. Malatesta and bass Steven S. Timoner had fine voices with great English diction and effective acting. Perper as Ernesto, Norina's true love, showed off a lovely lyric tenor. Bob Lanza as the comic notary caught the essence of the caricature with his shuffling gait, but it will take another role to evaluate any vocal accomplishments.
What was missing was the crux of the drama, where Don Pasquale understands only too well what a fool he's made of himself. It is the serious heart toward which all the comedy has aimed.
Vigil was back to sing Konstanza in Mozart's Abduction from the Seraglio. Again, the ball of fire lit up the stage with her singing. Timoner needed more basso heft to be a really effective Osmin, but he did a fine job with the voice quality he has. Marc Persing's Belmonte proved to be sung with a fine Mozart tenor voice. David Root was a strong Pedrillo. Ms. Corson's wobble, too obtrusive for someone so young, infected too much of Blonde's music. She is a fine actress, and as previously noted, sounded better the higher she went.
Again, what was missing was the spoken scene of the Pasha's forgiveness and mercy - his humanity movingly revealed as the denoument.
Without those moments of self-recognition, what was presented was mere "sound and fury signifying nothing" - very well executed and entertaining sound and fury, to be sure - but by the very natuire of the presentation superficial instead of touching.
Fire on the podium
Fire from the bandoneón
Saturday, January 29, 2005
By Don MartoneColonial Symphony Orchestra, Gisele Ben-Dor (conductor), Raul Jaurena (bandoneón). "Fiery Night." Fauré: Pavane, op. 50; Piazzolla: Concerto for bandoneón and orchestra; de Falla: Three-Cornered Hat Suite No.1; Mozart: Symphony no. 35 in D major, ("Haffner"). Community Theater, Morristown.
In a classical music version of TV's American Idol, the Morristown based Colonial Symphony has been choosing its new conductor in a public forum. It had been announced that the first three concerts of the 2004-2005 season would be led by contenders for the position. The January 29 concert presented the last of the three prospective directors and proved to be an evening which was of considerable interest for both the content and the talent.
The last conductor in the queue, Gisele Ben-Dor, has quite an impressive professional history. She was born in Uruguay, trained in Tel-Aviv and at Yale, and is currently the Music Director of the Santa Barbara Symphony. She lives in New Jersey and has achieved national prominence as an expert in Latin-American music. She is particularly known for her performances of the music of the Mexican composer, Silvestre Revueltas. Her recordings and concerts have achieved critical raves. The program seemed to be chosen to exhibit the widest range of styles, while allowing a glimpse into the specialty area of this conductor.
The popular Fauré Pavane may be a peaceful choice to open an evening billed as "Fiery Night," but it did allow a glimpse into the style of the conductor. Ms. Ben-Dor conducted with a no nonsense approach. Her beat was classical, clear, and without extraneous podium movement. Her style was professional and supportive.
However, the Concerto for bandoneón and orchestra of Astor Piazzolla that followed was the artistic center of the evening. This is a major work. It moves from the coldness of neoclassical Stravinsky and progresses through the evocation of the hot, sexy world of the Argentine tango. Scored for strings and percussion with a prominent piano part the work packs a punch.
The bandoneón, an accordion-like instrument operated by buttons rather than keys, sounds similar to an accordion, but its tone is distinctive. It is rather like an accordion raspy from too many cigarettes and whiskey.
Raul Jaurena, the bandoneónist, was also born in Uruguay and currently lives in New Jersey. His performance on this fiendishly difficult instrument was a tour de force. Whether dashing off fast, rhythmically complex passages or evoking sultry emotion during the slow movement's evocation of a Buenos Aires tango, Mr. Jaurena introduced many in the audience to the power and
possibilities of the instrument.Ben-Dor, for her part, proved to be a master accompanist, guiding the orchestra through the complexities of the score. I'm sure much of the rehearsal time went into this work, for the orchestra played with authentic Piazzolla style. String glissandos, or slides, which are so important in this composer's music were perfectly done. Ensemble was tight. Ben-Dor's enthusiasm for the piece was obvious and infectious, as was the zest of the orchestra in the collaboration.
Spanish music continued after the intermission with de Falla's Suite No.1 from The Three-Cornered Hat.
The last work of the evening seemed to be selected to answer the old clichéd question which sort of goes, "Yes, but can she play Mozart?" His "Haffner Symphony" may be one of the shortest works in the active repertory. Ms. Ben-Dor conducted without a score and surely many in the orchestra probably could have also played it without music.
But the performance was anything but rote. This was nicely played, elegant Mozart. Sensible tempi combined with attention to detail and nuance gave witness to the rapport between conductor and orchestra. The smiles on the faces of the orchestra members and the conductor demonstrated their enjoyment. Looking around, I could see smiles on the faces of the audience
showing they were part of the mix.At this stage, the identity of the next Music Director is not known. The results of this concert debut demonstrated that the appointment of Gisele Ben-Dor could result in some exciting music making in the years to come.
Student view of the Northern Lights Festival
[This is one of three reviews by students at Columbia
High School (Maplewood/South Orange) who participated
in the Festival's school outreach program.]NJSO Interplay: "Sibelius and Finland"
By Reni Calister
[Reni Calister is a member of the school orchestra
led by CNJS member Peg Roberts.]The audience was transported into another universe by Ulla Suokko, an incredibly gifted flutist. Her use of *flutter tongues, *double tongues, whistling, and speaking into her flute made even the most musically sophisticated audience members gasp at her playing powers. To hear someone play the classical flute in such a unique way filled me to the brim with inspiration. Suokko's expression of Saariho's Laconism de l'aile gave live performance a whole new meaning. She spoke to the audience, not only in actual speech, but in body language and through her music. Her deep passion spread like wildfire to her spectators and made them feel the music.
When I saw the word "flute" on my program I was sure that I would hear a beautiful, classical flute playing something light and bouncy. As Suokko took over the stage, however, I gained a whole new respect for the instrument. No musical experience of mine has compared to her performance and my respect for musicians with unique capabilities has soared.
The Montclair State University Chamber Singers, conducted by Heather J. Buchanan, was a group of highly talented students who had a great sound and even better spirit.
Hearing the "Finlandia Hymn" live was very stirring, but what came after was amazing. The Chamber Singers started singing music from Four Shakespeare Songs by Rautavaara, which surprised many audience members. The songs were filled with grunts, shrieks, and incantations, and asked the performers to alter their singing voices to make them as ugly, scary, or intense as possible. My favorite song was "Double, Double Toil and Trouble" from Macbeth. I could not help but gaze open-mouthed at the disciplined singers, for if I were up there singing that tune I would have laughed so hard as to fall off the stage. A tenor very close to where I was seated had the most wonderful *falsetto. I wanted to believe that it was the sopranos who were hitting those notes, but by the end of the song I had received a wink from the talented tenor confirming the truth. Hearing contemporary choral music for the first time was a lot of fun.
Joseph Horowitz's interview with Pekka Kuusisto, a Finnish violinist, was one of the happiest highlights of the Interplay. Kuusisto was an energetic and charming person, and I immediately developed a liking for him. As he finished his interview and took out his instrument to play, he gave his violin a look of love mixed with a devilish sort of grin, which gave me the idea that this violin performance would not be something easily forgotten. I was right.
Kuusisto played Sallinen's Cadenze with the most energy and "pow" I have seen from a violinist. He crouched like a cat ready to leap, and he looked up to the sky as if the music were written on the ceiling. His fascinating interpretive actions mixed with his immense talent won him a spot in the hearts of the audience.
The Lemminkainen legend from the Kalevala performed by the Kalevala Trio was the last of the performances. The perfect blend of music, storytelling, and song was enough to make audience members cozy down into their chairs and listen to the story. The fantastic flute player, Ms. Suokko, was also one of the storytellers. She made her entrance through the audience, walking down the aisle with her bass flute, conjuring the richest and deepest sounds to make the folk music come to life. Along with her bass flute, she used antique instruments to create a story telling atmosphere. When we later learned that she had been improvising the music, I wanted to hug her. Improvising is a hard thing to do, but creating an atmosphere "on your feet" is even more challenging. With the great storytelling abilities of Aili Flint and Tuomas Hil, the legend came to life. A performance like this is very rare, and a chance to see a great legend interpreted in such a musical and deep way was delightful.
Expecting a good concert and being delivered a fantastic one is not only thrilling, but inspirational. The amount of excitement and amazement created in the Interplay surpassed the expectations of many audience members including me. The musical, spiritual, and intellectual enlightenment from this small performance was equal to that of a grand symphony playing a world famous piece, which is what followed later in the evening. To enter into a world of such passion and spirit is to purely enjoy music and art.
Two new theaters
Alexander Kasser Theater
Mini-NJPAC
Sunday, January 30, 2005
By Paul M. SomersMontclair State University. Walter Hautzig (piano). All-Chopin: Polonaises, Preludes, Waltzes, Nocturnes, Ballades, Mazurkas, and the Berceuse. Alexander Kasser Theater, Montclair.
The chance to hear a veteran recitalist in a new hall - old wine in new bottles - drew me to hear 83-year old pianist Walter Hautzig at Montclair State University's new *499-seat (plus) Kasser Theater.
Perhaps the most useful and complimentary remark I can make on Kasser is that I was drawn into the performance of Mr. Hauztig without any distractions. One cannot help but notice that the exterior and interior are the NJPAC's Prudential Hall writ in *diminution. The same earth-tone color scheme warms the interior with the same panels on the front of the single balcony; the same broad arch marks the skyline from the outside. It is, in short, what one wishes the NJPAC's Victoria Hall were. A great acoustic, parking in the same building (though one must walk along a passage open to the elements to enter the hall from the garage), and an eager staff, still a bit green (one really doesn't call a recital a "show") but ready to assist.
With everything seeming so familiar to northern New Jersey music listeners, it was easy to settle right into hearing Mr. Hautzig's view of Chopin after decades of consideration. His experiences off the stage affected him, as he described how meaningful it was to be in the composer's cell in the monastery on Majorca with the rain falling. His recall of this informed his understanding of the "Raindrop" Prelude.
Anyone expecting an afternoon of autumnal introspection from an artist of his age had a surprise. The G minor Prelude was fiery, the C minor Polonaise was dark but not nostalgic, and the G minor Ballade provided big technique and sound without banging.
Hautzig's set of Waltzes (D-flat major, op. 70, no. 3; E-flat major, op. 18; A-flat major, op. 69, no. 1; E minor, op. posth.) again showed off a flawless technique, now in the service of a conception which made the four into a "sonata" in 3/4, but with a sonata's usual key relationships askew.
The Mazurkas seemed to be chosen to emphasize the exotic element in Polish nationalism. *Strange modes tweak the melodies within the lively dance rhythms, and Hautzig seemed to take great delight in leaning on the "odd" tones.
The lyric [Berceuse] was the contrast between the A-flat Ballade and the A-flat Polonaise. Both the larger works were big and bold with bravura passages still under the pianist's fingers securely. Yet the Polonaise, for all its technical challenge, was really about stately nobility.
In response to the instant standing ovation Mr. Hautzig played the Mazurka in G-sharp major, "A good one to calm down with," as he said when announcing it. There followed the "Minute Waltz" played musically instead of frantically, and finally the Nocturne in E-flat. The latter elicited the whispered remark, "Oh! That's the tune from some movie!" from someone behind me.
On hand to visit his old friend was pianist and Pulitzer Prize-winning Montclair composer George Walker. He expressed his pleasure with the hall as well as the recital.