New Jersey Symphony – Xian Zhang, conductor; Johannes Moser, cello. March 22, 2019.

Richardson Auditorium, Princeton.  Rear Parterre (Seat O10, $53).

Program

Konzertstuck for Four Horns in F Major, Op. 86 (1849) by Schumann (1810-1856).

Symphony No. 8 in B minor, “Unfinished,” D. 759 (1822) by Schubert (1797-1828).

Cello Concerto in B Minor, Op. 104 (1894-1895) by Dvorak (1841-1904).

Horns: Chris Komer, Andrea Menousek, Lawrence DiBello, Eric Reed

This was overall an exciting concert, with crowd pleasers that were easy to get, and – for tonight – well performed.  Lately I developed some doubts about the orchestra, so I was happy when at the end I could say, “great, they’re back.”

The horn must be a very difficult instrument to play, with pitches difficult to get correctly, and soft sounds often uneven.  Three of today’s players are from the orchestra’s horn section, and Reed is a local artist.  The 21-minute piece consists of three movements: Lebhaft; Romanze: Ziemlich langsam; Sehr lebhaft.  Schumann wrote several pieces for the horn (in conjunction with other instruments and orchestra) after he moved to Dresden.  The Program Notes has a good description of how the three movements sound, except the players didn’t quite perform to that standard.  Some of that may be my lack of familiarity with the instrument; I didn’t get the “you’ll discern differences in horn timbres” at all.

The four horns after performing Schumann's Konzertstuck.

I am quite familiar with the melodies in Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, especially considering there is only one entry of the piece in this blog.  As I am writing this, I find myself humming some of them; by that measure it was a great success.  The sound was full and the dynamic range was great in the relatively small Richardson Auditorium.  One could wish for more precision from the different sections, but that didn’t detract from how well the overall performance was structured.

My prior exposure to the symphony was in 2015, and I recorded that Schubert for some reason stopped working on it after having completed two movements.  I had forgotten that.  The piece was unperformed for 40-odd years, seeing its premiere in 1865.  Its two movements are Allegro moderato and Andante con moto.

After performing Schubert's Unfinished Symphony.

Similarly, that there is only one entry of Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in my blog, back in 2011 doesn’t explain my apparent familiarity with it.  I recorded then that Dvorak wrote some parts of it with the passing of his sister in mind.  Tonight’s Program Notes said it was his sister-in-law Josefina Kaunitzova, which added a degree of poignancy to the music.  It also mentioned how Dvorak wouldn’t replace the coda in the finale where he repeated the song “Let me wander alone with my dreams” with a virtuoso cadenza for the originally planned premiere cellist.  As a result, a different cellist performed the premiere, in London.  The three movements are Allegro, Adagio ma non troppo, and Finale: Allegro moderato.

And Moser was most impressive.  Many of the passages looked extremely difficult to this non-cello player, especially the many double glissandos and double trills, and the occasional left hand pizzicato.  He tackled them with ease, the smile on his face seemed to say “I have been practicing a lot.”  His cello, a Guarneri, has this pleasant nasal tone which was probably the reason why Dvorak thought the cello wasn’t a great solo instrument.

Moser and Zhang after Dvorak's Cello Concerto.

There was this passage where the cello was in a dialog with the solo violin.  The two players seemed to build on each other’s enthusiasm (some may say egging on each other).  It was both delightful to hear and beautiful to watch.  Wyrick was up to the task.

The audience reacted well to all three pieces.

I walked away feeling a bit melancholic, who wouldn’t after these two minor-keyed pieces, but I was also happy.

San Francisco Symphony – Michael Tilson Thomas, conductor; Christian Tetzlaff, violin. March 14, 2019.

Davies Symphony Hall, San Francisco.  Tier 1 Premium (Seat D101, $84).

Program

La Tombeau de Couperin (1919) by Ravel (1875-1937).

Violin Concerto No. 3 in G major, K. 216 (1775) by Mozart (1756-1791).

Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 43 (1902) by Sibelius (1865-1957).

Anne and I are on a one-week trip to Northern California.  We missed the opportunity to attend an SFS concert when we were here in January, so I was happy to get tickets for tonight’s concert, even though two of the three pieces on the program didn’t particularly appeal to me.

We heard La Tombeau de Couperin recently performed by the New Jersey Symphony.  I was quite disappointed at that performance.  I have trouble appreciating the music, and for that performance the way it was played didn’t help.  I still have trouble understanding the music after tonight, but at least the orchestra’s playing was clean and the lines – such as they were – were brought out well by the various instruments.

The San Francisco Symphony brought out a very clean sound for Ravel's La Tombeau de Couperin.

One thing I learned was that last year was Couperin’s 350^th birthday anniversary (he was born in 1768), that may explain the popularity of the French baroque composer.  It is also interesting that I have heard more music patterned after Couperin’s than music actually composed by Couperin; the latter only once, in a pre-concert recital at a Mostly Mozart event.

To me Tetzlaff is better known for using this modern violin made by Grainer than his violin playing.  To be fair, the few times I heard him he was great.  Tonight was no exception, the way he played was technically flawless, the sound was pure, the spiccato passages just bounced neatly off his strings, and the violin’s tone was exquisite, balancing well with the orchestra (which was quite large).

Mozart’s violin concertos were composed when he was around 20, and are considered by many to be “light-weight” compared to Mozart’s later works.  Indeed the five violin concertos are usually learned by the violin student rather early in their career.  In my case, the way I learned it is how the concerto should sound to me, and Tetzlaff had some distinct interpretations that I was not familiar with, including what notes he tended to emphasize, and what notes to hold.  Nothing wrong with that, but these instances would end up interrupting my appreciation of the flow of the music.  [Note: we heard a recording of this concerto by Perlman, it conformed to my preconceived notion, and it sounded great.]

Tetzlaff acknowledging the audience's applause after performing Mozart's Third Violin Concerto.

I would have enjoyed Tetzlaff using his talents on a more “thrilling” composition.  After all, the first time I heard him play was a Shostakovich violin concerto, a performance I described as “jaw-dropping.”

The most memorable aspect of Sibelius’s Second Symphony is this melody that takes its time in showing itself completely.  It gets used again and again, together with a couple of other themes in the finale, until – if the composition is played well – everything turns dark and gray, and every listener gets depressed.

Today’s performance was good, but somehow the melody happened on me more suddenly, without the aching anticipation I had heard other times.  And the large orchestra sometimes had a bit of precision issues - MTT doesn’t conduct “on the beat,” but one would think this group knows him well.

A large orchestra was used for Sibelius's Second Symphony.

I really enjoyed the acoustics in this hall.  The sounds it produces are clear, but doesn’t suffer from the “clinical sterility” I sometimes attribute to Carnegie Hall (Stern auditorium).  The orchestra was large (I counted 14 first violins, 12 second violins, 10 violas, 8 cellos, and 6 basses) but still sounded crisp most of the time.

It seats a bit over 2700, about the same as David Geffen Hall, but the more spacious seats translate to a larger auditorium.

 One staircase is used to connect two levels.  This staircase looks spacious when there are few people, but is jam packed at the end of the concert.

One can have a nice view of the area from the Hall.  Here in the background is City Hall.

The shiny panels above the orchestra are acrylic reflectors that can be adjusted depending on the need.  Also notice the large organ in the back.

As mentioned in a previous blog, the music world may indeed be quite small.  We heard the Ravel piece last on March 2 on the East Coast.  Salonen will be replacing Thomas in 2020.  And we found out today the SFS and the New York Phil use the same annotator.  Both and I agree that the SFS Program Notes say more about the music than the NY Phil Playbills.

The SFS-recommended garage was full, we were lucky to find someone pulling out a block from that garage.  It was in a rather safe area, and we saved a few dollars.

It was a 45-minute drive back to our hotel in Livermore.

Philharmonia Orchestra – Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor; Truls Mork, cello. March 10, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat G101, $66).

Program

The Oceanides (1914) by Sibelius (1865-1957).

Cello Concerto (2016) by Salonen (b. 1958).

The Firebird (1909-10) by Stravinsky (1882-1971).

The Playbill nonchalantly described the first half of the program as being written by two Finnish composers, about 100 years apart.  What it failed to mention – probably because it was too obvious – was that the younger composer would be conducting his own work, and that he could trace his composition heritage to Sibelius.

Tonight’s Cello concerto was written for Yo-Yo Ma, which he premiered with Salonen in 2017, with the Chicago Symphony.  Overall it was an exciting piece to listen to, especially in the wonderful hands of Truls Mork and under the baton of Salonen.  Salonen describes the first movement as “evolving from ‘chaos’ and becoming like a comet,” and that the concerto explores “the concept of a virtuoso operating at the very limits of what is physically (and sometimes mentally) possible.”

As to the first point, a program of the music doesn’t necessarily translate into how a listener hears the music.  Of course one can make the case of chaos turning into order, and how “a moving object is emulated by other lines … A bit like a comet’s tail.”  But what I heard was a lot more than that; at a minimum, the orchestra/sections at times took the lead, and at times there was quite a bit of conversation.

Not being a cello player, I do not know all the virtuoso techniques one can bring to the instrument.  As a string player, I do know how difficult harmonics, glissandos, high registers, large intervals, and left-hand pizzicatos are.  All these, and more, were present in the concerto.  Not only that, some of these passages were so long that they no doubted tested the stamina and concentration of the soloist, and the orchestra, for that matter.

In that sense, Mork – a Norwegian – did an excellent job.  He needed the music (who wouldn’t?), and there were precarious occasions when the music was about to fall off the stand.  My seat in Row G gave me an excellent view of how he methodically tackled the music, and how he worked against a large orchestra.  Salonen needed the music also.

Several interesting aspects.  A set of drums was placed up front, and a percussionist came out after the first movement to hit them (for lack of a better term).  He also had some “rattles” that he would shake.  There was a speaker placed in the front also, I assume it was used to broadcast some preprogrammed music that sounded like bird calls.  (I am not sure if it was bird calls, but that seems to be a Finnish favorite.)  The concerto is “performed in three movements” which are fast, slow, fast; naturally there are slow passages in the fast movements, and vice versa.  A lot of tremolo was used in the orchestra strings.  (This turns out to be true of both nights’ programs.)

Truls Mork and Esa-Pekka Salonen after performing the Salonen Cello Concerto.  Notice the drums on the right, and the speaker between Mork and Salonen, partially blocked by the music stand for the soloist.

I hadn’t taken notes during a concert for a long time, but couldn’t help myself when the second movement started: slow movement begins with a bang, Mork has great techniques and is precise (minor intonation programs on rare occasions), the harmonization – especially by the flute – produces an interesting effect, demonstrates the sounds a cello can make, glissandos sound like ghosts wailing, cacophony plus drums.

What words did I conclude my notetaking with?  Instrument abuse and mental torture.  Perhaps that what Salonen meant in the quote cited above?  As a first time listener, there were several occasions I wanted that passage to end, not only because I wondered – for instance – how many glissandos on how many strings does one need, but that do we need to see if the musician would “fail” after – say – five tries.  Bottom line?  If given a chance, I would listen to it again.

The concert began with a short piece by Sibelius.  The tone poem Oceanides is based on Greek myth and describes the thousands of sea nymphs born to Oceanus and Tethys, his sister.  Salonen put the orchestra “volume control” to great use in describing what must be cresting and ebbing of these great waves.  Sibelius wrote this for the Norfolk Music Festival in 1914, and travelled to Connecticut to conduct it, collecting an honorary degree from Yale in the process.

I wish I had studied the Firebird before attending this concert.  That would have made the program much more interesting.  As it was, I needed the anchor provided by the familiar tunes to follow the program along.  Again the piece was tailor-made (not that Stravinsky was thinking about the Philharmonia Orchestra) for the abilities of this orchestra.  One remark I wanted to make: as exciting as the passage “Infernal Dance” was, it reminded me of how Trifonov did that by himself, on a piano.

After the Firebird. He can make a deep bow.

Salonen conducts with precision and attention to details.  He will become the music director of San Francisco Symphony in 2020, succeeding Michael Tilson Thomas.

The program lasted until 10:15 pm, so I had to take a late train home, getting in a little before 12:30 am.

Philharmonia Orchestra – Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor. March 10, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat Q101, $66).

Program

Symphony No. 7 in E major, WAB 107 (1881-83) by Bruckner (1824-1896).

A couple of months ago Lincoln Center had this sale of several of its “Great Performers” series.  I bought two concerts each for this orchestra and the London Philharmonic (in April).

The Philharmonia Orchestra had programs for Sunday March 10 and Monday March 11, I am writing this review after having attended both of them, so I will be making some general remarks, and some about the specific pieces in the programs.

First, the Philharmonia is a big orchestra.  For both concerts the members took up all the space on stage.  In the roster were 10 cellos and 8 basses (although I only remember seeing 8 cellos on stage), and there was a large brass section as well.

Second, the volume dynamics had an enormous range, going from very soft to very loud.  To their credit, it was never harsh, and for the 3/11 program I was in Row G.

Third, the brass section was competent, most of the time.  There were moments of tentativeness when they were by themselves.  Soft and firm, particularly, gave them trouble.  But few horn players are as competent as Philip Myers, even though some complain he plays too loudly.

These traits also characterized how I heard the Bruckner.  Suffice it to say the Bruckner that has stuck with me was his eighth, performed by the New York Philharmonic under Zubin Mehta.  This afternoon’s performance didn’t quite rise to that level.

Not that I could find anything wrong with it, it’s just that being loud for loudness’s sake, or being soft to show how well the section players may showcase their technical abilities, do not by themselves take the listener through a journey.

Per the Playbill, Bruckner was an admirer of Wagner.  When Wagner died in early 1883, Bruckner, working on the slow movement at the time, added a coda described as “the final reiteration of a sad chorale intoned by four Wagner tubas, which the master had used in Der Ring des Nibelungen and that Bruckner now introduced into the symphonic repertory.”  Come to think of it, to the uninitiated (that would include me, even though I had heard this before) this symphony could have been passed off as being written by Wagner.

Other aspects of Bruckner that I didn’t know.  First is he was viewed as “a devout, provincial, rather pedantic composer who managed nonetheless to create magnificent symphonies;” second, when the famed conductor Hermann Levi conducted this symphony for the first time, a critic asked “how is it possible that you remained unknown to us for so long?”  Bruckner was 70 then.

Salonen and the Philharmoia Orchestra.

The applause was thunderous.  All my reservations aside, I was glad to be at this concert, and was looking forward to the one Monday night.

I left church as soon as the sermon concluded and drove up to the South Amboy train station, getting close to “real” speeding.  I did make the train by a couple of minutes.  The program started at 3 pm, was about 64 minutes long, so I caught the 5:07 pm train back home.

New Jersey Symphony – Jun Markl, conductor; Ingrid Fliter, piano. March 9, 2019.

Count Basie Theater, Red Bank, NJ.  Orchestra (Seat U115, $28).

Program

Prelude a l’apres-midi d’un faune (1891-94) by Debussy (1862-1918).

Piano Concerto On. 1 in G Minor, Op. 25 (1830-31) by Mendelssohn (1809-1847).

Four Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes, Op. 33a (1944-45) by Britten (1913-1976).

La Mer (1903-05) by Debussy.

Some concerts are simply uninspiring.  Despite my best efforts in trying to appreciate it, this concert is one of them.  I can think of other words and phrases: going through the motions, lackluster, phoning it in, … Perhaps the only excuse is a performer plays to an audience, and the audience wasn’t there.

There were many empty seats tonight, not a good sign.  Photo taken a few minutes before concert start.

My problem with the concert started even before I went.  With a title of “Debussy Masterworks” one would expect quite a bit of Debussy in the program.  If you count the minutes, there were 33 minutes of it in a 70-minute program – not even half.  While I understand a concert’s programming depends on input from a pianist, but picking a Mendelssohn piece simply doesn’t make sense, at least not to this listener.

Both Debussy pieces could have sounded better: more surreal in the Faun and more real in La Mer.

I did get more out of the non-Debussy pieces.  Mendelssohn wrote his first piano concerto when he was very young, and the work heralded the large number of compositions he completed during his tragically short life.  This was also the first time we saw the Argentine pianist Fliter (who now lives in Europe).  She was very business-like in dispatching – competently, I might add – the piece.  Going over my blog, I had good things to say about my prior listens to this concerto; I am not sure today’s performance rose to that level.

 Fliter and Markl after the Mendelssohn Piano Concerto.

At the conclusion of the concert.

And to be fair, I also enjoyed the Interludes by Britten.

The next NJSO concert we will be attending will be led by Zhang.  Which makes me wonder, has the NJSO reverted to this Jekyll-and-Hyde, as I characterized it when Lacombe was the music director?  We shall see.

We spent the afternoon at Hoboken before driving down to Red Bank for the event.

Metropolitan Opera – Verdi’s Falstaff. March 8, 2019.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat DD30, $25).

Story.  See previous entry.

Conductor – Richard Farnes.  Dr. Gaius – Tony Stevenson, Sir John Falstaff – Ambrogio Maestri, Bardolfo – Keith Jameson, Pistola – Richard Berstein, Meg Page – Jennifer Johnson Cano, Alice Ford – Helena Dix, Mistress Quickly – Marie-Nicole Lemieux, Nanneta – Golda Schultz, Fenton – Francesco Demuro, Ford – Juan Jesus Rodriguez.

I enjoy Verdi’s Otello and MacBeth, operas based on Shakespeare’s plays of the same title.  Falstaff, somehow, never appealed to me that much.  Maybe it’s because comedies don’t appeal to me that much, or Verdi’s last opera sounds so different from his earlier works.

Either the Playbill is playing things up, or I am just too dense for this level of sophistication: I must say for me Falstaff can be seen every five or ten years, not more frequently than that.  A couple of quotes from the Playbill that were a bit over the top: “more truly Shakespearean than its Shakespearean source,” and “the complex counter-rhythms of the ensemble that ends Act I are both funny and the perfect depiction of people at cross-purposes.”  Perhaps true to an assiduous student of the opera, but not to a casual listener (this is my third encounter.)

A recent WQXR broadcast had during the intermission an interview with several of the leading ladies in this season’s production.  Ailyn Perez as Alice Ford (a-li-ce in Italian) was billed as “first among equals” (my phrase).  Tonight’s Alice was sung by Helena Dix, from Melbourne, Australia, in her Met debut.  She did okay.  The one new voice was that of Golda Schultz, and could she sing.  Her voice was silky smooth, and she could hold her breath.

I saw this production when it was first introduced at the Met in 2013 (a bit over 5 years ago.)  I remember many of the sets, but don’t remember the one where everybody wore horns, which one would think was among the most memorable. Similarly the 10-voice fugue escaped my memory, so I made sure I caught it today.  In that cast were some familiar names: Christian van Horn as Pistola, Angela Meade as Alice, and Stephanie Blythe as Quickly.  Cano and Jameson sang the same roles.  The conductor was Levine, and he again is the one who shall not be mentioned.

Another quibble was the kitchen scene.  It was lit so brightly that I had trouble reading the LED panel.  Perhaps not necessary as the action spoke for itself, but being able to read the punchlines might have helped.

Curtain Call.  From left: Dr. Gaius, Bardolfo or Pistola, Nanetta, Ford, Alice, Falstaff, Fenton, Quickly, Meg Page, Bardolfo or Pistola.  We didn't wait around for the conductor to get on stage.

The New York Times review is quite positive.  The reviewer mentions the production has a subtext of feminist ascendancy.  One can argue if that's the case, but if it is, isn't it already in the original play, or at least when this production first ran in 2013?

There were quite a few empty seats, and we moved much closer to the center aisle at the beginning of the performance (say seat DD12).  I bought these rush tickets using my cell phone while inside a coffee shop; and I didn’t get started until 12 noon.  Cheap seats evidently meant it was okay to abandon basic audience décor as the lady behind us thought it was okay to turn on her cell phone and unwrap candy during the performance.

We took the train up, so it was after midnight when we got home.

New York Philharmonic – Long Yu, conductor; Yo-Yo Ma, cello, Wu Man, pipa. March 7, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat CC113, $62.50).

Program

Prelude to Khovanshchina (1874; orch. 1883) by Musorgsky (1839-81), orch. Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908).

A Happy Excursion, Concerto for Pipa, Cello, and Orchestra (2018) by Zhao (b. 1973).

Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op. 74, Pathetique (1893) by Tchaikovsky (1840-93).

The title of the concert was “Yo-Yo Ma and Tchaikovsky,” so one can guess what the main attractions were, and this was mostly – but not completely – true.

The pipa rightfully had an equal billing in the concerto written by Zhao Lin.  While Wu Man (family name Wu) might justifiably be called “the world’s premier pipa virtuoso,” this had to be one of the few times (if not the first) the instrument appeared with the New York Philharmonic.

A Happy Excursion evidently refers to the chapter “逍遥游” in the writings of a famous Chinese philosopher and Taoist Zhuangzi.  The chapter is on the transcendence of everything; quoting from the Playbill: the perfect man has no self, the spiritual man has no achievement, and the true sage has no name.  (Being able to quote doesn’t equate to being able to understand.)  Which was well and good, I think I know transcendence when I hear it, or so I thought.

The♩ 25-minute work has three movements, simply marked: Movement I: ♩ = 66, II: ♩= 56; III: ♩ = 170.  When Ma and Wu came on stage, Ma took the mike and explained to the audience what the music meant.  He compared the three movements to three periods in Chinese history.  The first movement was before the kingdom was formed (I suppose that meant before the first emperor Qin?); the second movement was during the Tang dynasty, height of Chinese civilization where churches, temples, mosques, and synagogues coexisted (that is true, I am not sure it was a peaceful coexistence, though); the third movement referred to present day China, the golden age of culture (I am not sure I heard that right.)  While interesting and probably helpful to understanding the music, Ma’s description also caused confusion in my mind.  On top of that, Wu played a tune from the Tang dynasty rediscovered by Zhao and incorporated into the second movement; I could not tell how it was used.

The music was interesting enough, though.  The pipa is a rather soft-spoken instrument, but it came off quite well, especially in passages where it was the solo instrument or in a duet with the cello.  The only two techniques (and I am sure there are many) I know about – strumming and moving the strings on the frets – were put to great use.  Ma’s expression is usually that of joy as he performs; he was all serious tonight.

The four people standing are (L to R): Ma, Yu, Zhao, and Wu.  All (ethnic) Chinese affair. 

I wonder how many pieces Zhao has written that combines a western instrument with a Chinese one.  I did hear his piece “Duo” a couple of years ago, in Hong Kong, where the cello was paired with the Sheng.  There Ma was the cellist as well.  I also remarked that I wouldn’t have translated the title the way it was in the program.  Furthermore, “Duo” also references the Tang Dynasty.  Perhaps both pieces are silk road project-related.

Reading back over my Blog entry, I was quite impressed with Zhao as a composer back in 2016.  Not so much today.

Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique Symphony can be downright depressing, if performed well.  Most performances show off the orchestra’s skills, with repetitions of some nice melodies.  Most movements end in a whimper, so the fact that the third ends triumphally usually get some applause from those in the audience who think that is the end.  Yu led a very controlled performance, to which the players responded well; but that was about it, the pathos or sadness only came through occasionally, oftentimes because I was looking for it.

A large ensemble was used for both the Musorgsky and Tchaikovsky pieces.  There were 12 cellos, for instance.

The program began with a short but pleasant piece that Musorgsky sketched out for his opera.  He died with many compositions incomplete.  In this case Rimsky-Korsakov orchestrated what Musorgsky had done.

Around the second movement of the Tchaikovsky Yo-Yo Ma came to the audience (quietly, in Tier 2).  Anne remarked that he wasn’t that enthusiastic at the conclusion of the symphony either.

The New York Times review heaps high praise on both the Zhao and Tchaikovsky’s pieces.  I am not sure I share the reviewer's enthusiasm.  And the composer is Mr. Zhao, not Mr. Lin.

We took the train into the city, and grabbed a snack at Penn Station before returning home.

New Jersey Symphony – Hans Graf, conductor; Jeffrey Kahane, piano. March 2, 2019.

Prudential Hall at NJPAC, Newark, NJ.  Grand Tier (Seat D103, $28.)

Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-17, 1919) by Ravel (1875-1937).

Piano Concerto No. 4 in G Major, Op. 58 (1805-06) by Beethoven (1770-1827).

Symphony No. 1 in F Minor, Op. 10 (1925) by Shostakovich (1906-1975).

It is not good that my take away from this concert was that “wow, there is a difference between the New York Phil and the New Jersey Symphony!”  Unfortunately, that was foremost on my mind as the concert drew to a close.

To be fair, however, this was a comparison of “good” versus “great.”  On its own merits, each piece this evening was performed well, although the programming may not be any more than a collection of unrelated pieces that add up to – say – 90 minutes.

Ravel’s Le Tombeau de Couperin must be in vogue nowadays.  This was the third time we heard the piece (2007 and 2015 prior to this).  We will be visiting the Bay Area next week, and I looked at the SF Symphony to see if there was anything interesting, and this piece is also on their program.  Today’s performance didn’t add a lot to my lukewarm reaction to my two prior listens, I wonder if the SF Symphony performance (led by MTT) will do it – if we decide to go, that is.

After the performance of Ravel's Le Tombeau de Couperin.

One thing I did appreciate tonight was the clean sound of the orchestra during the Ravel piece.  That cleanness carried over to the Beethoven. As many commentators have remarked, this piece has an overall calm quality to it that is seldom found in Beethoven’s compositions (even the Pastoral Symphony has a stormy movement).  Kahane put in a delightful performance.  Oftentimes in the past Kahane was both the conductor and pianist, and I missed the give and take of the chamber aspect of it.  Today we had no such problem.  The one thing I noticed, though, was the “cleanness” of the sound – while we could hear the sound clearly, it was a bit too flat and muffled for my taste.

Kahane and Graf after Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4.

Shostakovich wrote his first symphony as his senior thesis, at the ripe old age of 19.  Not being an expert on Shostakovich (or any other composer, for that matter), I couldn’t tell exactly how this compared with his later works.  One distinguishing factor was it didn’t show the gloominess that would be very evident in his later works.

A larger orchestra was used for Shostakovich's first symphony.

There were quite a few solo lines by various section leaders, they all did well.

Graf certainly appeared competent in his job.  Per the Program Notes he has no “regular” job; he led the Houston Symphony until 2013.

It was a good performance, and it was unfortunate that attendance was not good.

New York Philharmonic – Herbert Blomstedt, conductor; Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano. February 28, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat AA112, $62.50).

Program

Peer Gynt Suite No. 1, Op. 46 (1874-75/1888) by Grieg (1843-1907).

Piano Concerto in A minor, Op. 16 (1868-95) by Grieg.

Symphony No. 8 in G major, Op. 88 (1889) by Dvorak (1841-1904).

For the record, Peer Gynt, per the quote of Henrik Ibsen in the Playbill, “was a real person who lived in the Gudbrandsal, probably around the end of the last century or this one … not much more is known … haven’t had much on which to base my poem …”  With that he wrote a “meandering tale about an anti-hero … ‘ with no ruling passion … who turns out finally to have neither center nor self.’”  Even more interesting is the music Grieg wrote for the play, from which four movements were extracted to become Suite No. 1 (Morning Mood, Ase’s Death, Anitra’s Dance, and In the Hall of the Mountain King.)  [The Playbill has additional information about the poem and the music.]

My first reaction in listening to the music was that the New York Philharmonic sound could be velvety and sweet, despite a recent review in the New York Times.  The music was enjoyable to begin with, and in the hands of a great conductor and musicians of a great orchestra, it sounded downright delightful.

Applause at the end of Peer Gynt Suite No. 1.

Grieg’s piano concerto is difficult technically, no doubt, but there is no shortage of pianists that can deliver the brilliance required from the opening flourish to the last A major chord.  However, I have heard few performances that could string together these brilliant episodes into a coherent and compelling story.  Tonight’s performance was one of those.  There was no instance where I just wanted to music to move on to the next ‘highlight.’

Thibaudet shaking hands with Staples at conclusion of Grieg's Piano Concerto.

As with Grieg’s piano concerto, my enjoyment of Dvorak’s 8^th runs hot and cold.  Today we got one of these hot ones where every moment was to be relished.  Staples had a solo line that came through beautifully (although I would have preferred a stronger sound.)

One minor quibble I have would be how he seemed to emphasize individual lines and exaggerated the dynamics and tempo changes.  A matter of taste, no doubt.

When I first saw Blomstedt as a conductor (first blog entry 2012), he was old.  He is now 91 years old (Playbill under-reports by one year.)  Other than a slight slump in his posture, he conducted with as much energy as he did the last time I saw him.  His bio entry in the Playbill starts with “Noble, charming, sober, modest …”  Not bragging if it’s true, I guess – although I would say “modest” probably doesn’t belong on that list.

The New York Times review is full of praise.

We took the train in, and had a light snack at Wasabi’s at Penn Station before taking the 10:20 pm train back, where we met Chung Shu returning from a Carnegie Hall concert.

Renee Fleming, soprano; Gerald Martin Moore, piano. February 28, 2019.

New Jersey State Theater, New Brunswick.  Orchestra (Seat S116, $27.50).

Program

Vocal recitals usually are not my “thing.”  However, when I saw the TodayTix APP offering $20 tickets, I couldn’t resist.  It is Renee Fleming, and it is at the State Theater, a little over 20 minutes away from my house.

It was a worthwhile experience, even though my appreciation and knowledge of the vocal art remain quite limited.

First, it was a well-designed program.  It led off with five of Brahms’ songs.  Fleming talked a bit about them, what stood out were “Meine Liebe ist grun,” with text written by Robert and Clara Schumann’s son Felix, who died in his early twenties from tuberculosis; and “Wiegenlied,” the famous lullaby that is sung in every country.  The first song (Vergebliches Standhen) calls for a male and female voice, and Fleming sang both.  She also did that with the last piece in the regular program.  All the songs talk about love, realized or unrequited, and Fleming brought out the emotions well.

This was followed by selections from a suite written by Puts, based on letters Georgia O’keeffe wrote to Alfred Stieglitz, who would eventually become her husband.  The three selections from the composition painted a picture of the New Mexico landscape.  I remain puzzled why the song “Canyon” talks instead about the sky and the flat prairie land.  Fleming said the composition is being expanded to include Stieglitz as well.  A search of the web seems to indicate this is an opera, go figure.

Fleming has been involved with music for many films.  Three were selected for the first half.  Of course both “Tis the Last Rose of Summer” and “You’ll Never Know” are well-known in their own right.

At the conclusion of the first half of the program.  I was seated reasonably close to the stage, but failed to get any reasonable shots.

After the intermission Fleming started with a group of arias from “standard” operas, although the only one (of the four) that I was familiar with was Turandot.  I didn’t know Leoncavallo wrote La Boheme, about the same time Puccini did his.  Even though the premiere was well received, the opera is nowadays rarely performed.  The Musette aria reminded me of Carmen’s Habanera.

The program concluded with four broadway songs.  As with the last number in the first half, Fleming used a microphone for that, explaining Broadway singers needed the mike for the flexibility, and to survive the brutal schedule of eight shows a week.  For the last number she sang all the parts, including that of mother, grandmother, and the chorus.

She did three encores: “Summer Time” by Gershwin, “I could have danced all day” from “My Fair Lady” where she invited the audience to sing along, and “O mia babbino caro” from “Gianni Schicchi.”

Another blurry shot.  A different dress for the second half.

The pianist evidently has been a long-time collaborator with Fleming.  He certainly didn't get as much billing as the last vocal recital I saw.  The pianist in that case?  Daniil Trifonov.

In general, it was a delightful evening, and the audience was thrilled.  I have heard Fleming multiple times before, notably in Thais, Rusalka, and Otello, yet today she sounded edgier (or harsher) than usual; I wonder if it was the acoustics of the hall.  She did get some words wrong, but it was a long program.  What was inexplicable was the slight intonation program that crept in every now and then.  My ears have been ringing a little bit lately, I wonder if that’s why I think people are out of tune …

We bought two tickets, but Anne decided not to go.  The hall was reasonably well occupied, but I do wonder how many tickets were heavily discounted – my seat was quite good, in fact excellent if one takes into account how little I paid for it.

Sydney Symphony Orchestra – David Robertson, conductor; Diana Doherty, oboe. February 9, 2019.

Concert Hall, Sydney Opera House.  Mid-Circle (Seat L36, A$65.)

Program

Also Sprach Zarathustra – Symphonic Poem, Op. 30 (1896) by Strauss (1864-1949).

Spirit of the Wild – Oboe Concerto (2016) by Westlake (b. 1958).

The Warriors – Music to an imaginary ballet (1917) by Grainger (1882-1961).

The season opening concert for SSO was Friday February 8.  On their webpage both the February 8 and 9 concerts are grouped under the “2019 Season Opening Gala.”  As a tourist the best I can put on would be polo shirt, khaki pants, and black walking shoes.  So I decided to tempt fate with the second day of this Opening Gala.

The Program probably would appeal to an Australian concert-goer, as two of the three pieces were composed by Australian composers, one of them featured the SSO’s Principal Oboist; and who didn’t love the opening theme of 2001: Space Odyssey?

I had just heard on January 26 the Strauss piece performed by the NJ Symphony.  In my blog entry I mused how a description of the tone poem’s program would help my appreciation of the music.  My answer: just the listing the parts that comprise the music (see my previous blog for this list) helped a lot.  While I couldn’t make out where the music was some of the time, I could clearly tell “joy and passion,” “science” (a fugue), and “night wanderer.”  The last was obvious as we got close to the end of the 33-minute piece.

My experience with the NJSO performance was such that it gave me cause for concern.  The SSO certainly sounded more disciplined and confident than what I heard from the NJSO.  It really behooves them to help the audience understand what they are playing.

Nigel Westlake’s father was principal clarinetist of the SSO, and he started his musical career as a clarinetist before adding composition to his repertory.  Today’s piece was inspired by his visit to Bathurst Harbour of Tasmania, which he describes as “… a pristine waterway … within the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area.  Almost completely devoid of modern human intrusion, the area … is accessible only by boat, plane, or foot.  It is a magical patchwork of button-grass moorlands, heathlands and estuaries, bordered by jagged works, wild rivers and rugged coastlines.”  The four movements have the following markings: (I) quarter=96 – cadenza (II) quarter=96 (III) Tranquillo – Liberamente - quarter=96 (IV) Agitato.  Diana Doherty, SSO’s current principal clarinetist, met up with Westlake to demonstrate some of the techniques that could be incorporated into the piece.  This piece was first performed in 2017.

And that was what the piece sounded like.  I had seen rugged Tasmanian coastlines, and had to say what I heard didn’t evoke memories of the boat rides I took next to them.  To have music describe certain thoughts or landscapes always was somewhat arbitrary, as opposed to most people see a cigar when a cigar is drawn, for instance.

Diana Doherty and Nigel Westlake being acknowledged by the audience.  Robertson standing among the violins.  There were no woodwind instruments in the orchestra.

Percy Grainger was also an Australian composer; and his “imaginary ballet” suite is still awaiting its program.  There are eight distinct parts to this music, and Grainger lists the ghosts of male and female warrior types that are being described: Greeks, Zulus, Vikings, Amazons, Greenland women, Red Indians, Fijians, Polynesians.  In his writeup he used quite a few adjectives to describe these warrior which are not acceptable nowadays.

The section changes are relatively easy to catch, even though I could have mis-identified how the music connects with the actual group being described.

A much larger orchestra was used to perform the Grainger composition.

The SSO is a fine orchestra, controlled and precise under the direction of Robertson, who is serving as the music director for the final season.

I bought two extra tickets for Ellie and Kuau, and Anne would remain behind to babysit.  Ellie decided not to go at the last minute, so we had an empty seat.

As to the concert being labeled a gala?  Many did show up in suits and dresses, but being the summer, many were dressed casually also, and I certainly didn’t feel out of place.

Opera Australia – Puccini’s La Boheme. February 8, 2019.

Joan Sutherland Theatre at Sydney Opera House.  Circle (Seat E8, A$167.)

Story.  See previous blog.

Conductor – Nicolas Milton.  Mimi – Joyce El-Khoury, Rodolfo – Ivan Magri, Marcello – Samuel Dundas, Musetta – Julie Lea Goodwin.

For this year’s trip to Australia, we started at Brisbane, and flew down to Sydney on Friday February 8 in the morning.  A few days before we left the USA, I bought three tickets to this opera, asking Tim and Whitney to come along.

I found out afterwards that I had seen this with Tim and Alyson in 2013, but had little recollection of it.  Tim also forgot all about it.  Comparing the cast members for the two performances, the only common one was Samuel Dundas singing the role of Marcello.

My blog entry on the 2013 performance was quite minimal, but it was generally quite positive.  The only complaint was about how all the singers belted out their lines.

For tonight’s performance the volume wasn’t that much of a concern.  The constant term that came to mind, however, was “chaotic.”  The story is simple, and I am reasonably familiar with the story, so I shouldn’t feel as confused as I oftentimes was.  The sets were simple, but in Act II it seemed too many things were happening (this is the Act where a couple of topless ladies appeared in Café Momus.)  If I remember correctly, the Met production had more people on stage, but I could follow the story better.

So I won’t forget (if there is) the next time I see this again, here is a brief description of the sets. For Act 1 the background were six (or so) panels where the painter was done; in the center panel was the door to the room; a step-ladder, a chest, and a plank constituted a table; and there was a fireplace where the poet’s work was burnt to warm the place.  Act II started as a city square where adults and children milled about, then two-tiered props were rotated out as Café Momus.  For Act III the background were panels of chain-linked fences, and in center stage was a desk and chairs for the customs agents; it snowed towards the end of the Act.  Act IV took place in the artists’ living room again, the desk now had a mattress on it for Mimi’s last moments.

The singing was all good, although no one stood out particularly.  The few solo instrument lines were also done well.  Somehow the story about Marcello and Musetta was more of a background event; either I couldn’t concentrate, or producers have a way to bring across different messages.

Curtain Call.  Standing in front is conductor Nicholas Milton.

It is a tribute to all involved that the story was still heart-wrenching, simple and somewhat incredible as it was.  Even what I often considered as a joke “they call me Mimi, but my name is Lucia” sounded extremely sad.  And I didn’t realize it was the dying Mimi who was repeating what Rudolfo was saying when they first met.

La Boheme is ranked one of the most popular operas, for good reason.  Opera Australia will be doing 23 performances this season.

There was lightning and torrential rain this evening.  I saw lightning, but managed to dodge most of the rain by taking advantage of the lower promenade leading to the box office.  Many people 

New York Philharmonic – Jaap van Zweden, conductor; Emanuel Ax, piano. January 31, 2019.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat Z112, $85.50 ).

Program

Symphony No. 1 in E-flat major, K. 16 (1764) by Mozart (1756-91).

Piano Concerto in D major, Hob. XVIII:11 (ca. 1780-84) by Haydn (1732-1809).

Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra (1928-29, rev. 1949) by Stravinsky (1882-1971).

Symphony No. 41 in C major, K. 551, Jupiter (1788) by Mozart.

Sometimes it is good to attend a concert where it is possible to enjoy without having to think too much.  Tonight’s concert certainly qualifies, at least for three of the four pieces on the program.  Of course, many Ph. D. degrees have been granted, and many books have been written, on these pieces.  The discussion topics can range from exactly when the pieces were written, to what instruments were intended to be used, to how the pieces illustrate the genius of the composers.  All good, but I, for one, could use a break, and this was two hours of sitting back and enjoying the music.  Interestingly, there are no records of when the “old” pieces were premiered.

It is instructive to have Mozart’s first and last symphonies performed in the same program, so one could appreciate the prodigy Mozart was (he was 8 when he wrote his first symphony), how he matured as a composer, and, perhaps, speculate what could have been if he hadn’t died at such a young age.

Mozart’s first symphony consists of three movements: Molto Allegro, Andante, and Presto.  Easy to listen to, and easy to perform (I assume.)  The Program Note says this work was not far removed from coeval (why use a simple word like “contemporary”) three-movements symphony by Carl Friedrich Abel and Johann Christian Bach, except they were 41 and 29 years old.  I was young when I started graduate school, and felt quite smart until this 16-year old was in the same class that I was (he got his Ph. D. the same year I did.)  Abel and Bach had to feel even “worse.”

Mozart’s last symphony was written a few years before he died, so it is somewhat of a mystery why he hadn’t written more, given how prolific he could be.  He finished his last three symphonies in the span of nine weeks, after all.  With all the repeats (which were taken today), the piece lasted about 35 minutes.  I still remember getting a bit bored the time there were three Mozart symphonies in the program.  Today was a bit better, although I would be okay to have things move along a bit faster.  In any case, the “highlight” was the last moment, well known for the fugue where Mozart strung together all five melodies.  Naturally we can count on our word-smithing annotator to say “Mozart renders the listener slack-jawed through a breathtaking fugal display of quintuple invertible counterpoint, …, looking backward … Bach and Handel, and forward … Beethoven.”

 A larger orchestra was used to performed Mozart's 41st Symphony (bottom) compared to the first (top photo.)  The Jupiter is about three times as long as the first symphony Mozart composed.

Haydn lived to the ripe old age of 77, and probably was equally prolific a composer, even though his work is not accorded the same superlatives as Mozart’s.  While he wrote over 100 symphonies, the number of keyboard concertos is only 13 (per Wikipedia.)  Again, once could just sit back and enjoy the performance, and there is no better pianist to do it than Ax, whose playing I always enjoy.  The three movements are Vivace, Un poco adagio, and Rondo all’Ungherese (Allegro assai).  The Hungarian nature of the Rondo was delightful.

Haydn's Piano Concerto was a delight to hear.

Stravinsky wrote the Capriccio after he fled Russia for Western Europe.  He started with the third movement and added the other movements later.  The Wikipedia entry says he wrote it for himself so he could make a living performing it.  It was about 18 minutes long, and performed without pause; the movement transitions were quite clear, though.  The movements are Presto, Andante rapsodico, and Allegro capriccioso ma temp giusto. In addition to the solo piano, there is a “concertino” group (again per Wikipedia) of strings.  We could see the violin and the double bass, the piano blocked our view of the viola and the cello.  In fact some of the wind section sounded like they belonged in this small ensemble also.

A more complex orchestra, with many percussions, was used to perform the Stravinsky Capriccio.

Being the first time for me, I could only say it was a nice give-and-take among the different players, with the piano naturally playing a prominent role.  Ax brought his music with him, either he wasn’t sure he had it memorized, or more in keeping with a chamber performance.

The orchestra performed an encore.

The weather has been bitterly cold the last night, and it was in the teens when we parked our car.  We had dinner at East Szechuan Garden again.