New Jersey Symphony Orchestra – Jeremie Rhorer, conductor; Augustin Hadelich, violin. May 14, 2016.

NJPAC in Newark.  Orchestra (Seat G105, $52.)

Program

The Hebrides Overture, “Fingal’s Cave” Op. 26 (1829-30, revised until 1835) by Mendelssohn (1809-1847).

Violin Concerto in D Major, Op, 35 (1878) by Tchaikovsky (1840-1893).

Serenade No. 1 in D Major, Op. 11 (1857-58) by Brahms (1833-1897).

We got home after a 240 or so mile drive from Boston on Friday, the previous night.  And for today (Saturday) we needed to check into our hotel in Rockville, MD; we were planning on attending a 9:45 am service on Sunday.

Our daughter and others, after hearing this, all agreed the prudent thing to do was to skip the concert. But with Hadelich playing Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto, I really wanted to hear it.  So we decided to compromise by leaving after the first half of the program.

I usually don’t do any research, beyond reading the Program Notes, before I listen to a live concert.  Either I am that lazy, or I don’t want to be biased towards one particular interpretation.  (For similar reasons I don’t read the reviews either.)  There are those who swear by learning about the music as much as possible beforehand.  I imagine there are reasons to go one way or another.

Today I made the “mistake” of searching for the overture on YouTube, and listened to it.  It matched very well the description in today’s Program Notes, with the seas around the island calm at times, and stormy at others.  Tonight’s performance was at best competent, I had to really work on my imagination to picture the scenery. Perhaps it’s the unfavorable comparison to the YouTube tape, or it was simply an uninspired reading.

Fingal’s Cave is on an island that is just a little south from the Isle of Skye, a place we are visiting later this summer.  It would be interesting if we can find a way to see the cave.

The size of the orchestra remained the same for Tchaikovsky.  Hadelich put in a great performance, although the violin was slight off-tune after the first movement, some of which couldn’t be fixed as they were harmonics, but a bit of minor tuning before the second movement (and the enthusiastic applause) fixed the problem.

We were seated quite close to the stage, and I expected a great sound from the instrument.  Not that there was anything wrong with it, but the violin didn’t quite have the brilliance of a Stradivarius, and didn’t quite measure up to my memory of Hadelich’s previous performances.  The Program Notes doesn’t mention the violin, so let me try a web search now … the Wikipedia entry says he is still playing on the 1723 Stradivarius.  I also found out he suffered severe burns when he was a teenager and required extensive skin grafts during his recovery.

The applause was thunderous, and for encore he played Paganini’s Caprice No. 5.  It was close to perfect.  So readers of this blog won’t complain about my harsh grading, I considered the way he played No. 24 perfect, and this was certainly a better performance than the last time I heard him play it.  (So far he’s played Paganini’s caprices as encores for all three of the concerts.)

We have seen Rohrer conduct a couple of times before, leading the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra.  I described him as animated, and he was relatively subdued today.

We left Newark a bit after 9:15 pm, and it was about 1:30 am that we checked into the hotel in Rockville, MD.  It was worth the trouble to go to this concert.  

New York Philharmonic – Bernard Haitink, conductor. April 19, 2016.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra 1 (Seat Q103, $69.50).

Program

Symphony No. 9 in D major (1908-10) by Mahler (1860-1911).

I remember telling myself that I didn’t have a lot to say about this gargantuan piece (advertised at 79 minutes, probably lasted 10 minutes longer).  Due to family visits, this is more than a week after the event, so I probably have even less to say about it.

A listing of the movements gives a hint of how unconventional this composition is: (1) Andante comodo; (2) Im Tempo eines gemachlichen Landlers, etwas tappisch und sehr derb (In the tempo of a comfortable Landler, somewhat clumsy and very coarse); (3) Rondo: Burleske (Allegro assai, sehr trotzig) (Allegro assai, very insolent); and (4) Adagio (Sehr langsam und noch zuruckhaltend) (Very slow and even holding back).  Other than the third movement, the music was generally slow and sad; although I got only hints of coarseness and insolence in the middle movements.

I heard this piece in 2008, conducted by Lorin Maazel.  That blog entry actually contained a more detailed description of the music than I remember of this one; I probably took notes then.  I also mentioned that the piece lasted about 90 minutes.

However, I felt a bit differently this time.  The most noticeable difference of this piece is how much less it wanders compared to many of Mahler’s other symphonies.  That was even more marked in the case of the first movement, rather long at about 30 minutes.  I could hear motifs repeated throughout the movement.  Also, I didn’t find the ending repetitious at all this time; I was straining to listen to the notes as they slowly petered out, to good effect.  The first violins were not playing any notes towards the end, but all the players kept their bows in the playing position – except one who evidently didn’t get the memo.

The piece calls for solo passages from many of the principals, including quite a few by the concertmaster Huang.  Huang certainly didn’t have an intonation problem, but I can’t quite tell how good he is, yet.  Later in the season he will be playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, but we probably have to miss that concert.  Most section principals were at tonight's concert, but many associate principals were missing.

CS, who went with me, saw a video with Bernstein discussing this symphony.  He said the piece reflected the despair Mahler felt, at many levels.  First was his personal tragedy, he knew he didn’t have long to live because of his heart condition.  Then was his lament that the traditional symphony form was on its last legs (one would think he contributed to its demise, but he evidently didn’t think so.) Lastly, the world probably was in a very agitated state, as the first world war would occur in a couple of years.  Indeed the Playbill describes this symphony as “filled with intimations of yearning, nostalgia, regret, despair, isolation, resignation, and even personal solace.”

This was the first time I got to see Haitink conduct.  When I saw the stool on the conductor podium I was expecting him to walk out with a cane; he is 87, after all.  Instead, he only needed 30 or so seconds on the stool in between movements.  He was quite economical with his gestures, but was clearly in control.  There were several well-deserved curtain calls.

Bernard Haitink flanked by New York Philharmonic players. 

I could find the New York Times review tucked within an article talking about other performances of Mahler in New York (the review is titled “A Mahler Mini-Festival in New York.)  Only two, albeit positive, paragraphs were spent on the performance.

Anne couldn’t go, so we gave her ticket to CS’s neighbor.  Traffic was quite bad getting into town, so we could only share a sandwich from the Geffen Hall café before we had to rush into the auditorium.

San Francisco Symphony – Michael Tilson Thomas, conductor; Inon Barnatan, piano. April 15, 2016.

Prudential Hall at NJPAC.  First Tier (Seat B8, $37.50).

Program

Orchestra Variations (1958) by Copland (1900-1990).

Inscape (1967) by Copland.

Piano Concerto (1927) by Copland.

Symphony No. 2 in C major, Op. 61 (1846) by Schumann (1810-1856).

While surfing Goldstar.com a couple of weeks ago, I found out tickets for this concert were offered at a 50% discount.  A no-brainer as SFS and MTT are on the program.

Thomas actually described the first two pieces before they were performed.  I vaguely remember the Orchestra Variations can be called a concerto for the orchestra, and Inscape as starting on a 11-note chord, then resolving into simpler music for various parts of the orchestra, and ending on the same 11-note chord again.

If I have to name two Copland works, they would be Appalachian Springs (1944) and Billy the Kid (1938).  Both these works predate the first two pieces in the program, and the evolution of Copland as a composer clearly shows.

Copland’s description of Variations, cited in the Program Notes, is simple enough: a theme of dramatic characters followed by 20 variations and a coda.  The annotator adds more, grouping the piece into “Chapter 1” (through the 10^th variation), a slow movement (11), a scherzo (12-18), section of increasing speed (19-22), and a “magnificent spare-textured coda.”  All well and good, except the theme sounded more complicated than I thought, and I gave up on counting the variations after a few.  I suspect this music is more interesting studied on paper than heard with the ear.  The entire piece lasted perhaps 12 minutes, so things were going at a fast clip.

There are 12 notes in the chromatic scale, so I naturally wonder which note was skipped in the initial chord (calling it a chord is a bit of a stretch, in my opinion.)  Interestingly the chord sounded much more harmonious than I would expect.  I like the intervening passages that seemed to probe different aspects of new music.

A search of the web indicated some suspected Copland, whose music had been lyrical, was trying to stay relevant with his exploration of new styles of music writing.  The premiere of Inscape – commissioned by the New York Philharmonic and conducted by Leonard Bersetein – was not well-received.  I, on the other hand, would only attribute the “head-scratching” to my lack of understanding.

In contrast, the piano concerto was written early in Copland’s career, and was much easier to appreciate.  It consists of two movements played without pause: Andante sostenuto, and Molto moderato (molto rubato) – Allegro vivace.  Not only did it sound like the Copland I know, to me the jazz and “American” elements in the music made it sound like Gershwin on many occasions.  The Program Notes contains the composer description of the music, and it is relatively easy to follow.  This turns out to be the last composition Copland wrote in this style, remarking that American music could not possibly be confined to two dominant moods: the blues and the snappy number.

Inon Barnatan probably is an up-and-coming pianist, having been retained as NY Philharmonic’s artist-in-association.  He put in a delightful performance, often masquerading himself as a jazz pianist (successfully, I might add.)  We heard him last year performing Ravel’s F with the NY Philharmonic.

Curtain Call, Barnatan and Thomas.  

The other interesting aspect of the first two pieces is the number of percussionists they called for; at one point I counted six of them.

I am not familiar with Schumann’s second symphony, even though I had heard it a couple of times in the past few years.  The Program Notes describes this tribute to Bach with the notes B-flat/A/C/B-natural.  I tried very hard to listen for it, but failed.

The San Francisco Symphony is a large organization.  In addition to the many percussionists, they also have large sections – I counted 14 first violins, roster says 18.  They sounded precise, and had good dynamics. Unfortunately the acoustics at our seats were a bit flat, so I couldn’t characterize the sound.  The played the same program at Carnegie Hall twice before coming to NJPAC.  Attendance was okay, although there were quite a few empty seats in Tier 1.

Parking fee just jumped to $20 (from $17), so we parked at the hotel lot for $15.  I notice with some satisfaction that the lots were quite empty.

The New York Times review is of the Carnegie Hall performance.  It is generally positive, and provides more background on Copland's works.  The review did complain that the Schumann reading was a bit on the "sober" side.

Metropolitan Opera – Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra. April 14, 2016.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat EE21, $25.)

Story.  The pirate Simon Boccanegra is elected doge of Genoa.  The daughter he has with Maria disappears when the old lady she was left with dies.  Maria’s mother (also named Maria) dies while being imprisoned by her father Fiesco who disapproves of Boccanegra.  Twenty-five years later baby Maria has grown up as Amelia, daughter of the wealthy Grimaldis, who are actually the Fiescos, who in turn isn’t aware of Maria’s true identity as their grand-daughter.  Amelia and Gabriele are in love, but Grimaldi wants her to marry Paolo. Gabriele has been plotting to overthrow the doge.  Boccanegra meets Amelia and by comparing portraits of her mother, they two recognize their father/daughter relationship.  Paolo attempt to kidnap Amelia is thwarted, and Boccanegra forces Paolo to curse himself.  By putting poison in Boccanegra’s water bottle, Paolo poisons the doge.  While Boccanegra suffers from the poison, all the relationships are sorted out.  Paolo is condemned to death, and Boccanegra pardons Gabriele and names him his successor.

Conductor – James Levine.  Paolo Albiani – Brian Mulligan, Simon Boccanegra – Placido Domingo, Jacopo Fiesco (aka Andrea Grimaldi) – Ferruccio Furlanetto, Maria (daughter of Boccanegra, aka Amelia Grimaldi) – Lianna Haroutounian, Gabriele Adorno – Joseph Calleja.

I tried but was unable to put together a story that both makes sense and describes the plot as it unveils.  While I think my summary hangs together, it skips over parts of the story that deals with the political climate at that time.  The most noticeable missing parts are how the government of a city-state worked, and the rivalry between Genoa and Venice.  There was also mention of Guelphs during the opera which I frankly didn’t understand.  (Per Wikipedia, Guelphs is a faction that supported the Holy Roman Emperor.)  To indicate how complex the plot is, the Playbill compares it to that of Il Travatore, another Verdi opera whose plot is difficult to summarize.  This opera also has the distinction of having a tragic beginning (death of Boccanegra’s love Maria) and a tragic end (his own death.)

CS mentioned to me a while ago he read a New York Times review of the performance.  Before I could stop him, he said the review wasn’t kind.  I asked if the reviewer complained about Domingo’s being a former tenor trying unsuccessfully to become a baritone, and that Levine was also past his prime; he basically said yes.  That didn’t stop us from wanting to see the opera, and we did so today, together with a couple of his friends.  Anne had too many things on her plate and couldn’t go.

Let’s start by saying of course things could have been better.  Domingo could have a stronger voice, Levine could have conducted a better performance.  But isn’t that always the case?  I am glad to have attended.  Exaggerating a bit to prove my point, instead of an A+ performance we saw only an A performance.

I haven’t seen Domingo at his prime – the first opera I remember seeing him in was Tan Dun’s “The First Emperor” in 2008 – so I don’t have any reference.  But he did a splendid job today.  His singing was rich and strong most of the time, and I didn’t notice any deficiencies in the lower registers.  Maybe a tad weak here or there, but I thought this role fitted well a singer who was at the twilight of his career (I mean “singing career,” I hope he has many good years as a conductor ahead of him.)  Similarly with Levine, while one has to sorry to see how Parkinson’s has ravaged him, he put in a great performance.  The orchestra sounded exquisite and precise.

The other principals were impressive, each fulfilling their roles brilliantly.  This was my first encounter with the Armenian soprano Lianna Haroutounian, she had a beautiful voice, and was a match for the others, even though it was one woman against many men.  Ferruccio Furlanetto - no spring chicken at 66 - demonstrated what a rich basso voice should sound like, and Joseph Calleja also did great as Gabriele Adorno.

The sets, first used in 1995, are quite elaborate: outside a castle for the prolog, a garden that reminds me of Tuscany for Act I Scene 1, the inside of a doge’s palace for Act I Scene 2, a room inside the palace for Act II, and a repeat of Act I Scene 2 in Act III.  Levine conducted the 1995 series, with Domingo in the role of Gabriele.  It was repeated in 2010 where Domingo played the title role.

A few years ago I caught this opera on TV, but saw it for only a few minutes.  I remember it starred a young and dashing Domingo (in hindsight he was probably playing Gabriele); I was blown away by this handsome singer.  For tonight he played the role of an old man.  Time marches on.  He could still fall impressively, though.

Curtain Call, with Domingo in the center.

The New York Times review is indeed unkind, suggesting Levine and Domingo should retire lest they tarnish their towering and colossal career, respectively.  Tonight’s auditorium was fuller than it has been for a while.  The reviewer also says Domingo has been booked as a singer far into the future.  I am glad the regular opera attendee doesn’t follow what they read in the paper.  The reviewer mentioned (grudgingly, no doubt) that the two will reunite next season in Nabucco.  Perhaps not at their prime, these two artists still hold their own, and they should do so with well-deserved pride.

New Jersey Symphony Orchestra – Xian Zhang, conductor; Jennifer Frautschi, violin. April 9, 2016.

Count Basie Theatre, Red Bank, NJ.  Balcony (Seat E101, $37.60).

Program

Marche Slave, Op. 31 (1876) by Tchaikovsky (1840-1893).

Violin Concerto, Op. 14 (1940, rev. 1948) by Barber (1910-1981).

Symphony No. 4 in F minor, Op. 36 (1878) by Tchaikovsky.

This is the first series with Zhang as the conductor after she was named the next music director of NJSO.  I had seen Zhang two or three times before, conducting the New York Philharmonic when she was an associate conductor there, and the New Jersey Symphony recently as a guest conductor.  CS, Shirley, and Agnes also came to the concert.

Calling this program “Zhang conducts Tchaikovsky” is only partially correct as there is also a Barber concerto.  Perhaps someone can Barber with Tchaikovsky, but not I.  Even though this is touted as “the most-performed” violin concerto by an American composer, it is still not program all that often.  A search of my blog indicated this having occurred twice: in 2015 with Lisa Batiashvili, and in 2010 with Gil Shaham.

The name Frautschi is quite familiar as there is a Laura who is with the Orpheus and Mostly Mozart Festival orchestras.  Jennifer Frautschi looks quite a bit younger.  She is the recipient of an Avery Fisher Grant (I wonder if this is now renamed David Geffen Grant), and performs on the 1722 “ex-Cadiz” Stradivarius.  Things look good if name recognition is the game.

The parallel that sprang up in my head once the concerto got underway was Sibelius. Not that the two sounded at all alike, but I thought the first movement of Barber sounded wistful and sad, and the second, frustration.  However, while Sibelius there was a clear “resolution” in the third movement, Barber’s third movement seemed to be an etude showcasing the soloist virtuoso technique.  The three movements are Allegro, Andante, and Presto in moto perpetuo.

Frautschi came across as a better musician than a technician.  She managed to convey (what I thought was) the mood of the first two movements quite well, although her intonation was off slightly on occasion.  However, the third movement sounded just like a good student playing a difficult exercise piece: passable, but not much beyond that.  The most puzzling aspect is how the Stradivarius sounded ordinary in the smallish Count Basie venue.

The program started with Tchaikovsky’s Marche Slave.  It is a collection of some very familiar tunes, which the Program describes as “a mish-mosh of Serbian tunes that sounded strikingly like Tchaikovsky’s original themes.”  On top of that was the Russian National Anthem.  Indeed it was a music that one could tap along.  I do wish a listing of the tunes had been provided though.

Perhaps this piece set my expectation for the rest of the program.  There was quite a bit of volume dynamics in the presentation, but somehow the music sounded flat for eight or so of the ten minutes.  The only time it got exciting for me was the end where everything was thrown into the coda, including the Russian National Anthem.

Tchaikovsky’s fourth symphony is in four movements: (1) Andante sostenuto; (2) Andantino in modo di canzona; (3) Scherzo: Pizzicato ostinato; and (4) Finale: Allegro con fuoco.  While I am quite familiar with it, somehow I had in mind the theme from his Pathetique in my head as the performance was to begin.  So, on the bright side, the piece sounded refreshing when it began.

Everything seemed to work well.  The orchestra was together, the dynamics were good, the different sections were quite impressive.  However, at the end we have only a competent orchestra playing some well-known passages by following the dynamics markings faithfully.  There is this missing element of what the music was trying to say.

In the past Zhang usually wore heels.  Today she wore flats, which made her small stature that much more noticeable.  She conducted with the same level of gusto I have come to associate with her.  The orchestra responded to her well, which is a good thing.  I hope as she develops a closer relationship with the organization some of the musicianship would come through more clearly.  She did engage the audience with a short talk at the beginning of the program, including the fact that Barber knew he wanted to be a composer at a very young age.

The event was newsworthy enough that I found a New York Times review on the concert.  The reviewer is generally positive, describe Zhang as “a name worth memorizing” and “a pint-size bundle of energy.”  She also said the orchestra had moments “that would be the envy of better-known ensembles on the other side of the state lines.”  I assume she is referring to both NY and Philadelphia?

New York Philharmonic – Bramwell Tovey, conductor; Joyce Yang, piano; Virginie Verrez, mezzo-soprano. April 5, 2016.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra 1 (Seat P105, $69.50).

Program

Ballet Music from Le Cid (1885) by Massenet (1842-1912).

Noches en los jardines de Espana (Nights in the Gardens of Spain), Symphonic Impressions for Piano and Orchestra (1908-16) by Falla (1876-1946).

El sombrero de tres picos (The Three-Cornered Hat), complete ballet (1916-19) by Falla.

These tickets were purchased as part of the CYO subscription, that was around September, 2015.  Turns out Anne had a class, so she couldn’t go.  So CS made use of the available ticket.

This was billed by the New York Philharmonic as a “Spanish Nights” program, although I would say the music was peppered with some French influence.

Evidently other than the violin solo Meditation from the opera Thais, Massenet also wrote lots of music (my attempt at humor.)  Indeed I have also seen Werther and Manon.  I consider these works French in nature.  Le Cid, on the other hand, is derived from Pierre Corneille’s 1637 recounting of a tale of conflict, love, and honor from Spanish history (quoting directly from the Playbill.)  As customary for operas in that period, a ballet was included, in this case the opera’s second act.  Each of the seven dances is an example of a different Spanish form, which the Playbill further claims “many listeners may recognize without being quite able to place them.”

Listed in the Playbill under this ballet are the following dances: Castillane, Andalouse, Aragonaise, Aubade, Catalane, Madrilene, and Navarraise.  Among areas of music that I don’t know much about, Spanish music ranks among the highest, so I wasn’t holding out any hope I would recognize any of the tunes.  Even more confusing was Tovey’s introduction, he said there would be five movements, with the last movement repeating the theme of the first.  All I could say is the music started off sounding more French than Spanish, although it changed as the movements progressed.  As to Massenet writing Spanish-sounding music, I do want to observe at that time he was living in Marseilles, which is relatively close to Spain.  I did catch the similarity between the beginning and end of the music, though.

Tovey also made some remarks about “Nights in the Gardens of Spain.”  He said all we needed to think of was someone waking up after the afternoon siesta, and imagine how he would then proceed to spend the rest of the evening.  The three movements are (1) En el Generalife (in the Generalife) (Allegretto tranquillo e misterioso); (2) Danza lejana (Distant Dance) (Allegro giusto); and (3) En los jardines de la Sierra de Cordoba (In the Gardens of the Sierra de Cordoba) (Vivo).  Manuel de Falla had never travelled to Granada where the Generalife Palace and Sierra de Cordoba gardens were located; evidently pictures and literary descriptions were enough of an inspiration for him.

Our decision to buy these tickets was no doubt influenced by Joyce Yang as the soloist.  Yang sprang onto the music scene several years ago (evidently as far back as 2005) after she won a silver medal at the van Cliburn competitions.  Even though she appears in New York quite frequently, this was the first time I got to see her perform.  While the piece is difficult enough, I can’t really say whether I was awe-struck by her as a pianist.  In trying to get a sense of the composition as a whole, I didn’t have the bandwidth to understand the piano as a voice separate from the orchestra.  The piece seemed difficult enough, and I could hear the piano distinctly most of the time; there were instances when the orchestra overwhelmed it, somewhat surprising as our seats were quite good.

Another observation I would make is there is quite a bit of French in this work.  Which is not surprising as de Falla spent a lot of time in Paris, associating closely with Dukas, Debussy, and Ravel.  This work was first imagined as four nocturnes for a piano, and over eight (!) years it evolved into what de Falla would call “symphonic impressions.”

If you say “Manuel de Falla” to Anne she would respond with “Three-Cornered Hat.”  This work, likely most well-known of de Falla’s, was based on a story making fun of the Corregidor (Magistrate) whose three-corned hat signified his status.  Tovey did explain a bit about the story, and how the bassoon represented the magistrate slinking from a rock.  (He said more, but I forget.)  The copyright holder of the story would not allow it to be turned into an opera, so it was scored for a pantomime.  Serge Diaghilev saw a performance of this play and asked de Falla to expand the work into a full ballet.  The premier was in London in 1919, with Pablo Picasso as the designer of sets and costumes, and other luminaries were involved as well.

The 38-minute (per Playbill) work consists of the following.  Introduction.  Part One – Afternoon, Dance of the Miller’s Wife (Fandango), The Corregidor, The Miller’s Wife, The Grapes.  Part Two – The Neighbors’ Dance (Seguidillas), The Miller’s Dance (Farruca), The Bodyguard – The Miller’s Wife – The Corregidor – Dance of the Corregidor, The Corregidor and the Miller’s Wife, The Miller, Final Dance (Jota).

All this should make for an interesting experience, if the ballet had been performed.  It would take a lot of imagination to picture the ballet and its props as one listens to the music; and I don’t have that good an imagination.  So I was left with trying to catch the bassoon tune, which I managed to do; that wasn’t enough for me to follow along the plot, though.  About the only other aspect I capture was the Seguidilla, a term I learned from the opera Carmen.

De Falla added a couple of voice passages to the ballet, which was to warn the villagers that the devil was about.  Verrez had a booming and pleasant voice, but the total singing time was perhaps three minutes.

I have seen Bramwell Tovey several times, when he conducted the New York Philharmonic during their summer series.  He usually gave a small introduction to the program he conducted, with a nice dose of humor.  This was the fifth (and last) concert of the series, so while the introduction was still informative, the humor was a bit dry (tired, not the “dry” as in British humor.)

The program probably would appeal to some folks (Anne, for example), but for me it seemed more like a lost opportunity.

The New YorkTimes review was somewhat mixed.  The program was discussed in reverse order: great praise for “The Three-Cornered Hat,” generally good for “Spanish Nights,” and quite critical for “Le Cid.”  I didn’t catch the miscues the reviewer was talking about, perhaps the coordination improved by the fifth concert.

I met up with CS for a light meal at Europan, and we took the train back to New Jersey together.  Anne had just returned from DC and was able to pick me up at the train station.

Metropolitan Opera – Donizetti’s Roberto Devereux. March 28, 2016.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat T33, $25.)

Story.  Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex, comes back to England, having failed to win the war with the Irish.  He is accused of treason and is condemned to death, but Elizabeth, who is in love with him, wants to pardon him.  Robert loves Sarah, who was forced to marry the Duke of Nottingham, a good friend of Robert.  When the two meet, Sarah gives Robert a blue scarf.  When Robert is arrested, the scarf is discovered, which makes Elizabeth suspicious enough to sign the death warrant.  While waiting for his execution, Robert asks Sarah to give Elizabeth a ring which will earn him a pardon.  Sarah is unable to do so since she is confined by her husband.  When Sarah manages to get to Elizabeth with the ring and the Queen is about to relent, Robert is executed.  Nottingham admits he wanted revenge, and Elizabeth laments that she only wants to be freed of her role as queen.

Conductor – Maurizio Benini; Sarah Duchess of Nottingham – Elina Garanca, Queen Elizabeth – Sondra Radvanovsky, Robert Devereux Earl of Essex – Matthew Polenzani, Duke of Nottingham – Mariusz Kwiecien.

The synopsis I provided above is basically a further synopsis of the one found in the Playbill.  Chung Shu read up a bit on Elizabeth’s real story, and thought the romance angle was a bit dubious.  In any case, what I got from watching the performance was this is indeed a very simple story, which I can summarize as: Elizabeth loves Robert and wants to spare his life after he returns from Ireland.  However, when she finds Robert with a purple scarf she orders his execution.  She eventually relents, but it is too late.  All the other incidents probably happened on stage, but they didn’t leave a mark on me at all.

So this is one of those operas that need great music to save it.  While there is some drama in the third act, the first two acts are quite flat dramatically.  Perhaps that is why this is the first time this opera is staged at the Met (what I saw was the second performance.)  Luckily, the music is great, and the orchestra and the singers all put in a great performance.

The great music started with the excellent performance of the overture, under the direction of Benini.  A review of my blog indicates I have seen him several times before, conducting Donizetti operas – perhaps an expert on this particular composer?  The orchestra kept up the great sound throughout, sometimes in support of the singers, often times on their own.

We last saw Polenzani and Kwiecien together in the Pearl Fishers, and enjoyed their singing.  Today they did an equally admirable job, although I would say Polenzani was particularly good.  I had a similar reaction to their Pearl Fisher performance, calling Polenzani’s performance “great” and Kwiecien’s “dependable.”

Garanca’s voice was simply heavenly, penetrating and smooth.  Of all the principal roles, I enjoyed her singing the most.  Since I didn’t know how the story unfolded at the beginning, I actually thought wow, this Elizabeth is really quite something.

And this Elizabeth is really quite something.  She has the volume and the expressiveness that fit the role very well.  Her tone is a bit on the harsh side, so it didn’t work very well for the tender moments; but when there is anger, jealousy, or hatred, it footed the bill very well.  And there were a lot of those moments.  Scene 3 of Act 3 is basically a mad scene for Elizabeth, and I really wish the earlier parts had a similar level of drama.  At some point she shed her wig and acted credulously as an old woman.

The Met made a big deal out of Radvanosky’s singing the roles of all three of Donizetti’s Tudor queens this season.  For various reasons I didn’t get to see the other two.  I do wonder if the level of difficulty is comparable to being Brunnhilde in Wagner’s Ring.

Given that this is a Met first, the production is naturally new.  That makes the staging a bit puzzling, it is basically the three walls, with two rows of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.  By moving the center wall back and forth, the audience is supposed to surmise whether we are talking about the palace, the plaza, or, at the end of the opera, a grave.  The chandeliers also move up and down so as not to be caught by the moving wall.  On many occasions I couldn’t tell what the staging was supposed to represent.

And what is this peanut gallery on the second level?  Chung Shu told me it was to show royalty at that time didn’t have any privacy, their lives lived out for everyone to see.  Maybe, but it didn’t add to the story at all.  Similarly, the opera began with a display of Elizabeth’s tomb, which reappeared at the end of the opera.

The costumes were generally okay, with Elizabeth’s two “wings” a bit on the overdone side.  However, if you google Elizabeth’s images, many of them have these wings, so there is some historicity to the design.

Curtain Call.

I have seen the other two Donizetti Tudor queens: Netrebko as Anna Bolena, and DiDonato as Maria Stuarda.  I must say both were impressive performances, and both had more drama to them.

I resisted reading the New York Times review until just now.  As usual, I admire the wordsmithing of the reviewer, but take some issue with his observation that there may be some degree of homoerotic longing between Robert and the Duke.  Shades of Pearl Fisher?  I would say his “ranking” of the singers is the same as mine.  For instance, he described Radvanovsky’s voice as having a hard edge to it, and Garanca’s as sumptuous.  He is also scratching his head a bit about the staging, but correctly points out the hint of Tower of London in one of the scenes.

[Note added 4/8/2016.  Just wanted to note the overture had the British National Anthem "God save the Queen" woven into it.  A bit of anachronism, no doubt.]

I met up with CS to have a quick meal at Europan.  Since we had to take the 11:18 pm train, it was past midnight before I got home.

New Jersey Symphony – Christian Arming, conductor; Stephen Hough, piano. March 19, 2016.

State Theatre, New Brunswick, NJ.  Balcony (Seat A109, $37.)

Program – Romantic Masterworks

Siegfried Idyll (1870) by Wagner (1813-1881).

Piano Concerto in A Minor (1841-1845), Op. 54 by Schumann (1810-1856).

Symphony No. 2 in D Major (1877), Op. 73 by Brahms (1833-1897).

The title of the program probably applies to the works by Schumann and Brahms.  Not to take anything from Wagner, but most people think of his operas as his masterpieces, and rightly so.

So happens I heard this performed in November, 2013, performed by the Hong Kong Philharmonic.  The conductor was Lorin Maazel.  What I remember from that concert was this piece had nothing to do with Siegfried as in the Ring, but rather it was written by Wagner after the birth of his child.  The piece was performed in the foyer of the Cultural Centre, which didn’t work out that well because of the acoustics, and because only a small ensemble was used.

Today’s performance was done by a large orchestra, which the Program Notes claims was done during Wagner’s time, with him as the conductor on occasion.  The other claim made by the Annotator was some themes were taken from the opera Siegfried, the third act, as a matter of fact.  The Notes also says that this is the closes thing to a symphony that Wagner wrote.  I guess that why musicologists and music historians keep their jobs; and why I write a blog.

Of course I don’t remember much of what I heard in 2013, but I am sure that it didn’t sound at all like today’s performance.  The piece then was quiet and idyllic, today’s was more exciting to hear, but not always on the idyllic side.

I know enough about the works by Schumann and Brahms to have a sense of what the music sounds like, but not so familiar that I end up trying to compare what I heard to what I considered the “right” way to do the music.  It made for very enjoyable listening: I was (mentally) tapping along, but still surprised every now and then by where the story went.

It may be heretical to a serious music student, but overall impression of this Schumann concerto is it very much like a Liszt concerto (both No. 1 and 2) in how the piano works with and against the orchestra.  The demands on technique may not be as severe, but that is made up for by the musicality.  A virtuoso versus an artist, so to speak.  Not that this concerto was easy – our seats in the balcony were quite close to the stage – and Stephen Hough made that so.

Per the Program Notes, this piano started off as a Pantasie for piano and orchestra written in 1841.  Schumann then suffered a mental breakdown in 1844, and when he recovered, he added an Intermezzo and Finale to complete the concerto, which has movement markings Allegro affettuoso, Intermezzo: Andantino grazioso, and Allegro vivace.

We did hear the Brahms symphony as recently as October, 2015.  My blog entry said “this was a great concert.”  I then proceeded to lament how muddled some passages were.  Somewhat to my surprise, “muddled” didn’t cross my mind at all.  Sure, there were some passages that did sound as clean as they could be, perhaps I do grade according to expectations.  The movements are (i) Allegro non troppo; (ii) Adagio non troppo; (iii) Allegretto grazioso (Quasi andantino); and (iv) Allegro con spirit.

Arming looked young (born in 1971, in Vienna, per Wikipedia.)  His conducting style is traditional, but seemed to exaggerate sometimes, and was too passive at others.  Perhaps that is one reason why the music sounded disjoint at times.

Curtain call after the Schumann piano concerto.  Stephen Hough on the left, and Christian Arming behind the piano.

I used to remark that this orchestra seemed to work very well with Lacombe, but not that well with guest conductors.  My experience the last few concerts indicate that the situation has improved a lot.

There were many empty seats in the balcony, which was too bad.

New Brunswick is very close to our house, it was easy getting there and back on a Saturday evening.  We even managed to find off-street parking.

New Jersey Symphony – Perry So, conductor; Eric Lu, piano. March 12, 2016.

Count Basie Theatre, Red Bank.  Balcony (Seat E101, $37.60.)

Program: All-Mozart

Overture and Ballet Music from Idomeneo, K. 366 and 367 (1780-1781) by Mozart (1756-1791).

Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major, K. 488 (1784-1786).

Symphony No. 41 in C Major, “Jupiter,” K. 551 (1788).

I vaguely recall the last all-Mozart program as one by the New York Philharmonic where the last three of Mozart’s symphonies were performed.  My recollection was too much Mozart isn’t necessarily a good thing.  A review of my blog entry reminded me that it was in 2006, with Maazel conducting.  Turns out there were other all-Mozart programs I have been to; interestingly none was at a Mostly Mozart Festival concert.

The interesting aspect for this concert is the conductor is a Hong Kong-born person, and the pianist is a Chinese-American born in Massachusetts.  I had heard the name Perry So before in conjunction with Hong Kong Philharmonic, although I never saw him conduct any of the HK Phil concerts I attended; today would be our first encounter with Eric Lu.

Idomeneo isn’t one of Mozart’s popular operas, I recall seeing that performed once at the Met, and haven’t seen that advertised anywhere else.  While pleasant to hear, I am not sure what story is being told by the music.  I don’t remember from the opera any ballet scenes, but I can assume they were put in routinely in operas from that period.  The Program Notes contain a brief synopsis of the opera, and a rather detailed analysis of the music, describe the ballet music as “a marvelous discover” for Mozart lovers.  By that measure, I am no Mozart lover.  The movements are Overture; Chaconne; Larghetto; La Chaconne, qui reprend, and “Pas seul.”

The piano concerto didn’t quite live up to its promise.  My usual standard for a good Mozart performance is “light and crisp.”  Lu met the “crisp” criterion, but his playing was quite heavy handed, and rather disjoint.  I did enjoy the third movement, though.  The three movements are Allegro, Adagio, and Allegro assai.  He played a encore (most likely one of Chopin’s etudes) that was quite enjoyable.

At intermission I read up on Eric Lu a bit.  He has done well in many Chopin competitions, including winning the 2015 National Chopin Competition and placing fourth at the 2015 Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw.  Since he is now only 18, it puts things in perspective.

The Program Notes again had an interest-piquing write-up on the symphony.  Particular mention was made of the finale, which has a double fugue-like construction, a theme played backwards, and a coda where all five themes were woven together.  I had some luck with catching the fugue aspects, and could hear a few melodies going at the same time (but not five of them,) and missed the “backwards” portion completely.  Nonetheless, it was a delightful symphony, at over 30 minutes a long one for Mozart.  The movements are Allegro vivace, Andante cantabile, Menuetto: Allegretto, and Molto allegro.

Perry So is in his early thirties.  His conducting was on the precise side, but the result didn’t hang together as much as I would like.  Given there are some few Hong Kong-born conductors on the international stage, I wish him success.

The concert was reasonably well attended.  There were quite a few empty seats in the balcony, though.  It was straightforward to get to Red Bank.

New York Philharmonic – Esa-Pekka Salonen, conductor; Yuja Wang, piano; Valerie Hartmann-Claverie, ondes Martenot. March 11, 2016.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra Rear (Seat PP107, $32.50.)

Program

Turangalila-symphonie (1946-48, rev. 1990) by Messiaen (1908-92).

I skipped this concert when I did our CYO subscription for this season, even though Yuja Wang and Salonen were on the program, as it didn’t make it high enough in the list of concerts I wanted to see.  A couple of weeks ago we got an email advertising seats for $29, and since we would be staying in Jersey City this evening, we decided to go for it.

Nowadys New York Philharmonic nickels and dimes its customers.  Perhaps it is necessary due to financial considerations, but for the two tickets we also had to pay a $7 facility fee, and a $7.5 service fee for the privilege of printing at home (it would be $15 for box office pickup), so the total for the two tickets comes to $72.50.  In this instance it was worth it.  Our seats, third row from the last, had surprisingly good acoustics; they are directly below the first tier, where seats costs a lot more.  While I couldn’t really follow the music, I found it engaging for the entire 75 or so minutes (if not entire, at least most.)  Compared to other music written in the mid-twentieth century, it was an unexpected but pleasant experience.

The Playbill contains some interesting facts about Messiaen and the piece, which is worth repeating here.  Messiaen’s music has two major characteristics: meditations related to Roman Catholic theology, and inspirations from birdsong.  Other focal points include complicated rhythmic relations, and the other is carnal love as embodied in the tale of Tristan and Isolde.  Messiaen described Turangatila-symphonie as “a love song.  It is also a hymn to joy … a joy that is superhuman, overflowing, blinding, unlimited.” He also provided a simple description at the work’s Boston premiere, conducted by Leonard Bernstein: “The work is a song of love … it is unnecessary to provide further explanation.”  The Sanskrit words Taranga and Lila have the respective meaning of “tempo, pace of a swift horse” and “life-force, the act of creation, rhythm, and movement.”  Messiaen claims neither the modes nor the rhythms used are borrowed from Hindu folk music.

Before introducing the soloists, Salonen spent about ten minutes talking about the program.  Not having taken any notes, there may be errors in my recollection.  He first characterized the music as being “fresh” all the time, and cited other works of this nature: Eroica, Symphonie Fantastique, Rite of Spring, and Tristan and Isolde, saying that is every composer’s dream.  He also described how Messiaen considered every note to be important, citing as an example the time he spent at Messiaen’s apartment, after going through every note on a page, Messiaen would then turn to p. 2 (it was quite funny the way Salonen described it.)  Evidently Messiaen was in love with someone (perhaps Yvonne Loriod, who premiered this work,) but his Catholic background would make marriage impossible (the two eventually married, though.)  Finally, while the piece started with human love, it eventually turned to the planets and the cosmos.

Curtain Call after the performance.  Yuja Wang is the one in the green dress, everyone else wore black.  The Ondes Martenot can barely be made out to the right of the piano.

This was the work for a large orchestra.  In the front of the stage there was a xylophone (vibraphone), two celestes, a piano, and the ondes Martenot.  In the back I counted another seven or eight percussionists, also I couldn’t tell how the different instruments were placed.  The bass drum had a very prominent position: center, back, and high on a platform.   Everyone showed up, including the concertmaster Frank Huang.  The movements were quite well demarcated: (i) Introduction, (ii) Chant d’amour I, (iii) Turangalila I, (iv) Chant d’amour II, (v) Joie du sang des etoiles, (vi) Jardin du sommeil d’amour, (vii) Turangalila II, (viii) Developpement de l’amour, (ix) Turangalila III, and (x) Final.  Perhaps the only insightful thing I can say is that the last movement sounded most conventional, and felt a bit out of place in relation to the other movements.

The piano had a variety of roles throughout the piece.  Sometimes it clearly was the solo instrument, with the pianist pounding out virtuoso passages in a dialog with the orchestra, sometimes it faded into being part of the music.  All I could tell was Yuja Wang had quite a bit of work out throughout the 75 or so minutes.  She needed the music in front of her (who can blame her) but managed to turned the pages by herself.  Many passages were doubled up by the celestas.

To my surprise, this wasn’t my first encounter with the ondes Martenot, an electronic instrument invented in 1928 by Maurice Martenot.  The best way I can describe its sound is that of a songbird, or the wailing of a friendly ghost.  A search of the web indicates other sounds made by this instrument, but I couldn’t hear them during the performance, if they had been made at all.  The soloist was quite still for the entire performance.  In any case, the instrument wasn’t as prominently featured in the music as the piano.

The Ondes Martenot.

I was asked by CS whether this was a concert worth going.  I told him yes, not because I could get the music, but because it was an interesting experience, with a large orchestra, complex sounds, and exposure to new or rarely used instruments.  I did suggest not to have a seat in the front of the auditorium since it won’t provide a view of the full orchestra.  Further, not too many orchestras are equipped to handle a work that is as ambitious as this.  And the whole experience is captivating enough that I didn’t think 75 minutes of it was too much; Anne drew her line at 60 minutes, though.

The New YorkTimes reviewer attended the first performance.  Evidently Salonen had different things to say on that occasion, including brief descriptions of each of the movements.  While the reviewer had good things to say, it was a surprisingly short review, covering only limited parts of the piece.

We will be vacating our Jersey City apartment the next day.  This is the last event we could make use of the convenience of the apartment.  We stopped by Brookfield Mall for dinner before continuing onto Lincoln Center.

New York Philharmonic – Christoph von Dohnanyi, conductor. March 8, 2016.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat Z103, $69.50).

Program

Ein deustsches Requiem (A German Requiem) Op. 45 (1866-68) by Brahms (1833-97).

Artists

Camilla Tilling, soprano; Matthias Goerne, baritone.

New York Choral Artists – Joseph Flummerfelt, director.

Per the Playbill, this was last performed by the New York Philharmonic in 2007, with Lorin Maazel the conductor.  Looking back at my blog, we attended a concert in that series.

Frankly I had forgotten everything about the piece, other than it was in German and didn’t use the standard Latin liturgy.  Many aspects of the composition distinguish it: no lamb of God, no Days of Wrath, no Kyrie Eleison.  Instead we find the following seven movements: (i) Blessed are they that mourn, (ii) For all flesh is as grass, (iii) Lord, teach me, (iv) How amiable are Thy tabernacles, (v) Ye now therefore have sorrow, (vi) For here have we no continuing city, and (vii) Blessed are the dead.  Other than some passages from the books “Wisdom of Solomon” and “Ecclesiasticus,” the lyrics are taken from the Bible.  It is interesting that the requiem begins with “blessed are they that mourn” and ends with “blessed are the dead.”

Many criticize the lyrics’ not mentioning the redemptive work of Christ (Agnus Dei), and to one critic Brahms replied “I can neither argue away nor strike out a ‘from henceforth’ from my venerable poets.”  Indeed the German phrase “von nun on,” found in the last movement, was used many times.

The choral part of (vi), talking about God’s glory, honor, and power, was one of the loudest passages of the requiem.  Even though von Dohnanyi held his arms up, many in the audience applauded anyway.  That was perhaps an understandable mistake as I found it difficult to follow along the German text, even with some knowledge of German.  To me the inability of the chorus to articulate the words with precision was the weakest aspect of the performance.  This turns out was my same complaint about the 2007 performance.  The 80-plus strong ensemble otherwise did a good job, responding well to the direction of the conductor.

The orchestra did a good job, with the cellos putting in a particularly good reading.  Anne was listening for the trumpets (in (vi) we have ‘for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised’) but couldn’t hear it; I didn’t even think of listening for it.  In any case, the score calls for only two trumpets.

The requiem lasted about 75 minutes, considerably longer than the advertised 60 minutes.  The soloists had little to do.  Actually it had to be about 45 or more minutes into the performance before Tilling got to sing her short aria.  It didn’t begin well, it sounded as if she needed some warm up exercises.  The notes rose quickly to a very high pitch (can’t tell what note it is,) and Tilling simply sounded strained.  She improved as things progressed, but not enough to redeem the performance.  Goerne was also the soloist for the 2007 series, he put in a solid performance.

Despite many things being slightly off, it was an enjoyable performance.  Von Dohnanyi is 86 years old, but appeared to be much younger.  There was a high stool on the podium, which he only made use of for a couple of minutes after the fourth movement (if memory serves.)

Curtain call with Tilling, von Dohnanyi, and Goerne.

The New YorkTimes review characterizes the performance as “exquisitely prepared and performed,” and an “occasion not to be missed.”  There were a few minor complaints, particularly about the soloists.

We stopped by the newly-reopened Europan for dinner afterwards.  We still managed to get back to Jersey City a bit after 10 pm.

New Jersey Symphony – Miguel Harth-Bedoya, conductor; Stephen Fang, cello. February 27, 2016.

Prudential Hall at NJPAC.  Orchestra (Seat G105, $52.)

Program

Appalachian Spring (1943-44) by Copland (1900-1990).

Silent Woods (1891) by Dvorak (1841-1904).

Hungarian Rhapsody, Op. 68 (1893) by Popper (1843-1913).

Symphony No. 9 in E Minor “From the New World,” Op. 95 by Dvorak.

In stark contrast to the New York Philharmonic program of the last concert, this one actually had a title – Vistas and Landscapes: Copland and Dvorak.  The conductor spoke briefly after the first piece was performed, describing the pieces by Copland and Dvorak.  He also said the piece by David Popper was just a nice addition to the program.

For all its “fame,” Appalachian Spring doesn’t get performed that often, either as a ballet or this orchestral suite.  I had always thought of the setting as somewhere in Tennessee, so I was surprised to learn from the Program Notes that Copland actually had in mind the Pennsylvania Dutch country.  Well, the Shaker melody should have been the give-away.  Interestingly, according to Wikipedia, Copland was thinking of neither Appalachia nor Spring when he wrote the ballet.  What gives?

The piece didn’t get the concert off on a good start.  While competently performed, it didn’t evoke the peace and quiet that is usually associated with the music.

Stephen Fang is the associate principal of NJSO, and he got to be the soloists today.  The first one, by Dvorak, is best characterized as “incidental music.”  It started as part of From The Bohemian Forest, a collection for one piano, four hands.  Dvorak then arranged it for cello and piano, and later for cello and orchestra.  It was a lovely tune to listen to.  Not having been to that part of Europe, I must assume that was what walking in the woods would be like.

Per the Program Notes, Popper was the greatest cello virtuoso of the late 19^th century, and wrote more than 100 works, almost all for cello.  The piece performed today sounded distinctly Hungarian, and showcased Fang’s technical prowess.  There are quite a few “ordinary” passages interspersed between the difficult ones; I thought they were unnecessary, perhaps they were there to give the soloist some time to breathe in between?

The audience seemed to love Fang, if the applause was any guide.

In reviewing my blog, the most recent encounters I had with the New World were in 2010 (Vienna Philharmonic conducted by Dudamel) and 2014 (Hong Kong Philharmonic conducted by Forster.)  To my surprise, my reviews for both were on the negative side.  In contrast, of all the words I could use to describe today’s performance, “disappointment” isn’t one of them.  The story was told simply, and told well.  I would consider this as one of the few instances where a guest conductor worked well with the New Jersey Symphony.

This was my first encounter with the Peru-born conductor Harth-Bedoya, his music training was from Curtis and Julliard.  He was quite precise in his movements, and did well with this orchestra, my comments about the Copland piece notwithstanding.

Anne had to go to Jersey City at the last minute, so couldn’t make the concert.  I ended up going by myself.

New York Philharmonic – Juraj Valcuha, conductor; Yefim Bronfman, piano. February 23, 2016.

David Geffen Hall at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat R105, $69.50).

Program

Galantai Tankoc (Dances of Galanta) (1933) by Kodaly (1882-1967).

Piano Concerto No. 2 in A major (1839-61) by Liszt (1811-86).

Vodnik (The Water Goblin), Op.107 (1896) by Dvorak (1841-1904).

La Valse (1919-20) by Ravel (1875-1937).

The headliner for this concert is definitely Bronfman and the Liszt concerto.  Afterall, the ticket says “Bronfman and Liszt.”  It was a worthwhile name for the event.

I was still a teenager, living in Hong Kong, when we first bought one of these multi-function gadgets that served both as a radio and a cassette tape player.  One of the first recordings I made off the air was Liszt’s first piano concerto, and I remember playing it over and over, and liking it more as I did so.

Structurally the two piano concertos share at least one attribute: they are both played as one uninterrupted piece.  The Program Notes says for this concerto many musicologists divide the six distinct sections into three movements: (i) allegro sostenuto assai – allegro agitato assai; (ii) allegro moderato; and (iii) allegro deciso, sempre allegro – marziale, un poco meno allegro – allegro animato, with the further remark that (ii) is often interpreted more as moderato than as allegro.

Both concertos are of short duration, with No. 2 at about 21 minutes.  Short though it may be, the pianist and the orchestra still got quite a workout, and both did that brilliantly, with a “take-no-prisoners” attitude.  This was definitely the highlight of the evening.  Bronfman did play an encore that showed his calm and melodic side.  It was good, and Anne agreed his “touch” was as good as Uchida’s.

Valcuha and Bronfman after performing Liszt's Piano Concerto No. 2.

The concert began with Kodalys’s Galanta Dances.  Perhaps we do come to these concerts too often, as we also attended the last series where this was played, in June, 2013.  Naturally I had no memory of what the piece sounded like.  This time it sounded simple and pleasant.

The two pieces performed after the intermission were towards the “dark side.”  Dvorak’s “The Water Goblin” was a symphonic poem (I assume this is the same thing as a “tone poem”) based on Erben’s work.  The story is grisly: A girl is pulled into the lake by the goblin and is made his wife, she longs to go back to see her mother, the goblin lets her go but keeps their child behind, when the girl doesn’t return, the goblin kills the child and throws the body onto the cottage.

I must say the music didn’t sound as dark as the story.  Evidently Dvorak wrote some musical phrases that mirror the words of the poem, and the Program Notes cites one specific example with both the music and the words.  It is quite interesting, too bad I can’t quite pronounce the words, although the melody – which as far I could tell shows up quite late in the piece – was easy enough to catch.  The melody used very early in the piece was repeated much more often, I wish there was some description of it.

I heard Ravel’s La Valse before, in 2008, and my blog entry then applies to what I heard today.  For this performance I heard more of how repeated attempts to get to a “normal” waltz devolved into dissonance, mirroring Ravel’s disillusion.  However, “nothing short of violent, terrifying, and bitterly final” is too strong a description of what the music sounded like in the end.

Some scholar announced in 2009 that the E-B-A notes in La Valse (Mi-Si-La in French) were used by Ravel to reference his close friend Misia Sert, and they are interlinked to the notes A and E at the beginning to denote Ravel (the two vowels in his name are A and E.)  This, the scholar asserts, revealed a romantic attraction that hitherto had not been documented.  I wonder how many Ph. D.s were awarded based on discoveries of this kind.

The last (and only) time I saw Valcuha I described his conducting as a bit exaggerated.  Today I didn’t think so at all; and the orchestra sounded great.  I do wonder about how this program hangs together.  The four pieces are on the short side (not to say they are easy to perform,) and except for the despair in the second half of the program, they seem to constitute a “sampler” of classical music.  So while each piece was enjoyable on its own, I do not have much a “takeaway” for the program in its entirety.

Interestingly, the New York Times review expressed a similar sentiment on tonight’s programming, contrasting thematic programming with randomness, and titling the review with the term "a quilt of composers."  The reviewer was also critical of the “blatant sounds” made by the woodwinds and brasses; well, having listened to the Sydney Philharmonic a couple of times recently, I have a new admiration for how good the New York Philharmonic players are.

Today's orchestra leader was Michelle Kim, who did a great job.  I do wonder where Huang and Staples were; especially Huang, whom we had not seen on stage for a while.  What gives?

We didn’t have time for a proper dinner, so we had pizza before we made our way back to Jersey City.

Mitsuko Uchida, piano. February 20, 2016.

Matthews Theatre at McCarter Theatre Center.  Balcony A (Seat DD107, $60.)

Program

Sonata, Op. 1 by BERG (1885-1935).

Four Impromptus, D. 899 by SCHUBERT (1797-1828).

Rondo in A minor, K. 511 by MOZART (1756-1791).

Sonata No. 1 in F-sharp minor, Op. 11 by SCHUMANN (1810-1856).

Chung Shu bought three tickets for this concert, for himself, Anne, and me.  However, he couldn’t make it because her daughter has a recital that evening, and he had to babysit.  Of course if we had known about Yi Heng’s recital, we wouldn’t have bought these tickets.  In any case, Agnes ended up going with us.

For one reason or another (one may well be I wasn’t paying attention,) Uchida had been absent from the area concert scene for quite a while.  But I got an email from the Cleveland Symphony that she would perform in that city, and the same program will be repeated at Carnegie Hall.  Uchida also planned to have a recital at Carnegie Hall on the 23^rd (already happened as I type this), and tonight’s program would be a warm up for that event.

When I saw Chung Shu this past Sunday, he asked me what I thought of the concert.  I told him I couldn’t tell, and that was a truthful statement.  I do have my reasons.

First, the pieces were all unfamiliar to me.  Even the Rondo by Mozart isn’t the rondo most casual listeners are familiar with (that would be K. 485, the alla turca.)  Most unfamiliar ensemble music stumps me, since I am not be able to analyze the harmony, the phrasing, and the dynamics on the fly.  For an instrument such as the piano where the two hands work with/against each other, I will have even more difficulty.

As it happens, I had the classical radio station on the day after this concert, and I heard a Mozart violin sonata that I really enjoyed.  It was K. 377.  I don’t remember who the violinist was, the pianist?  Uchida.  So at least I do have opinion when it’s a genre I am familiar with.

Uchida played an encore piece.  As with the regular program, she seemed to take every single repeat, making the piece very long.  Someone applauded with a few passages to go, and Uchida was quite annoyed, her gesture towards the clapping bordered on anger.

The program notes contain a detailed description of the pieces.  It helped a lot.

Anne did say her touch was impeccable, better than many she had seen.  I was in no position to debate that.

The New YorkTimes review of her Carnegie Hall recital was published as I wrote this.  The reviewer called the event “polished and elegant,” but had some minor reservations, such as how much she connected with the audience, or how there was not enough of a contrast between whimsy and tumult.  Such a review might be high praise for a young performer, for an established pro like Uchida, known for her interpretation of these composers, it might be considered a “many thumbs down” one.

We stopped by Agnes’s house before the concert to enjoy a dinner with her and her son.  It was after 11:30 pm when we got home.

Metropolitan Opera – Puccini’s Manon Lescaut. February 18, 2016.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center.  Orchestra (Seat K23. $25.)

Story.  On her way to the convent, Manon meets des Grieux, who falls in love with her.  Also traveling on the same train is the wealthy Geronte, who plots with Manon’s brother Lescaut to kidnay Manon.  This plot is overheard and relayed to des Grieux, who flees with Manon to Paris.  Lescaut doesn't think Manon can endure hardship for long.  Indeed, before long Manon leaves des Grieux and lives a live of luxury with Geronte.  Lescaut arranges for des Grieux to meet up with Manon.  As the two begin to make love, Geronte interrupts and threatens them.  The two plan to free, but Manon’s is caught because she cannot give up her riches.  Des Grieux visits the prison and sees that Manon is being sent off to exile with a group of mostly prostitutes.  He begs the captain to let him work as a deckhand on board and his wish is granted.  The two eventually escape but Manon dies from thirst and exhaustion.

Conductor – Fabio Luisi; Chevalier des Grieux – Roberto Alagna, Lescaut (Manon’s brother) – Massimo Cavalletti, Geronte de Ravoir – Brindley Sherratt, Manon Lescaut – Kristine Opolais.

We have seen Massenet’s Manon a couple of times, and enjoyed it.  I was aware that Puccini also wrote an opera based on the same story, but never had the chance to see it.  Since we were back in Jersey City, I tried, and succeeded in getting a couple of rush tickets.  The theater felt more packed than the many empty seats on the seating chart would indicate, which was a good thing.  Nonetheless we could move in a couple of seats (K21) when the performance began.

The synopsis certainly read quite differently from that of Massenet’s Manon.  The most noticeable would be how much more the audience is expected to fill in the gaps (especially between Acts 3 and 4) in Puccini’s case.  Also, I don’t remember this “show within a show” in Act 2 being in Massenet’s work.  The basic story of money or love is still there (a less crass term of “luxury.”)

This is a new production.  The last time it was staged at the Met was in 2008, but we didn’t get to see it.  The one noticeable new aspect is the period the story is set in: 1940s France, occupied by Germany.  The sets are traditional (i.e., realistic) showing a train station, an opulent house, a dock, and a wasteland.  I don’t know what the old set looked like, so can’t comment whether this is an improvement.  With the exception of the last set, things generally worked.  During the intermissions Anne heard several complained about the need for all these Nazis; I don’t mind seeing all these soldiers, but wonder if they were necessary, or added anything to the story.

The other aspect that I would quibble is more with the plot.  In this version there is a rather long episode where several musicians entertain Manon with a madrigal written by Geronte.  Perhaps this is to show how luxurious a life she was leading, to me the librettist could have used that time to fill in some of the blanks in the storyline so the audience wouldn’t have to interpolate or make up so much of the story.  The other segment I could do without was Manon's hesitation to leave her jewelry behind when she was trying to escape.  The acting was comedic, but entirely incongruent with the rest of the story.  I do wonder if this was Puccini's original intent, or it was this artistic team's idea.

Given how close we were to the stage, I am surprised how (relatively) weak the singing sounded.  We saw Opolais a while ago in La Rondine, I thought she only did okay; tonight’s impression was similar.  I became aware Jonas Kaufmann was scheduled as the tenor only when I got to the auditorium.  Alagna was okay, but one wonders how Kaufmann would have fared.  Kaufmann may not be quite up to five hours of Wagner, but I imagine he would do much better in this opera.

Even though he was not in my direct line of sight, it was easy to see Luisi from our seats. He conducted with a lot of energy, and I am again surprised at how closely he directed the singers.  The score was easy to like, and the orchestra did a great job of it.

When we were talking about this opera, Anne looked at the New York Times review.  Even though I asked her not to tell me what the reviewer thought, she said enough that I suspected it wasn’t a good review.  I read it just now, turns out it was a pretty good one, except for this new production.  It was amazing that it took Alagna all of 16 days to get it together; although the slip we got with the program seems to say he had rehearsed it before, but had never performed it.  The review also describes the story in considerable detail; he used terms like “ridiculous” to describe the new production, though.

Curtain Call in front of "wasteland" of Act 4.  From the left: Brindley Sherratt (Geronte), des Grieux (Alagna), Luisi, Opolais (Manon), and Cavalletti (Lescaut).

One observation I would make is the Manon we saw (March, 2015) was the 271^st performance at the Met, and this was the 218^th performance for Puccini’s version.  Some indication of popularity?

With two intermissions the opera didn’t end until 11:15 pm.  It was close to midnight when we got back to Jersey City.

Opera Australia – Verdi’s Luisa Miller. February 11, 2016.

Joan Sutherland Theatre at Sydney Opera House.  Circle (Seat M27, A$99.)

Story.  Luisa is in love with Carlo, who is actually Rodolfo, Count Walter’s son.  Wurm is a suitor of Luisa and reveals to Miller Carlo’s true identity.  Walter also wants to end the relationship as he wants his son to marry the recently-widowed Duchess Federica who is in love with Rodolfo.  Walter wants to imprison Luisa and Miller, but spares them because Rodolfo threatens to reveal the secret that Walter only became the Count by having Wurm murder his cousin.  Miller is later imprisoned by Walter for insulting him, and Luisa is told by Wurm that Miller will be executed unless Luisa writes a note saying her relationship with Rodolfo is a sham, which she reluctantly does.  When Rodolfo sees the letter, Walter tells him the best revenge is to marry Frederica.  Instead the distraught Rodolfo drinks from a glass of poisoned water and offers the glass to Luisa.  Knowing that she is about to die, she tells Rodolfo that she wrote the letter only to save her father.

Conductor – Andrea Licata; Luisa – Nicole Car, Miller – Dalibor Jenis, Rodolfo – Diego Torre, Wurm – Daniel Sumegi, Count Walter – Raymond Aceto, Federica – Sian Pendry.

I wasn’t at all familiar with Luisa Miller, so I was looking forward to seeing this.  Turns out I am quite familiar with one of the arias (Quando le sere al placido,) where Rodolfo describes the happy times he had with Luisa were based on deceit.  Overall I am glad I went, but I did leave thinking the opera didn’t achieve its possible potential.  There were many empty seats, and we managed to move up a few rows: I had seat J28.

First the set.  I can’t imagine the thinking process that went into its design (and it’s a co-production with Opera Lausanne.)  The beginning was promising enough: a marble set that one could think of as a tomb or an altar, which is a motif quoted quite often in the opera.  The entire set is then moved out of the way and ends up hanging over the stage for the rest of the opera.  What is left is the barest of props: a few chairs placed on slanted surfaces.  The designers also went with a monochrome design, so the colors are mostly white, black, and gray.

To add to the surreal nature of the performance, the story is told as a flashback with a sense of “what could have been,” quoting from the handout.  Thus Luisa’s first appearance is her lying inside a wreath.

The story is quite pedestrian, with elements of unrequited love, betrayal, and death.  However, that is the basis of many operas; indeed Verdi wrote a few of them, La Traviata comes to mind, and they still appeal to the audience emotionally.  One wonders if a more traditional set will enhance the dramatic aspect.  As performed, the surreal element also makes the drama surreal.

Car as Luisa did the best job.  Not only was her singing great, she also came across as a sympathetic character, drawing sympathy from the audience as fate eventually led her to her death.  Torre as Rodolfo had no problem with the high notes, his voice is a bit too coarse for the role. While his rendition of Quando le sere al placido was commendable, it was not as heart-wrenching as the lyrics would indicate.  And frankly his considerable size makes him an unlikely Rodolfo.  Jenis as Miller did a superb job, he actually reminded me very much of Thomas Hampson.  Sumegi, Aceto, and Pendry put in solid performances.

In addition to the solo aria, there were quite a few other solo and ensemble passages that were quite demanding, and the artists generally did well.  There is this long quartet with a few key changes, done without orchestral accompaniment – the audience sighed with relief when the correct pitch was confirmed with the orchestra’s entrance.  The best duet is the Luisa/Miller one where the father is trying to discourage the daughter from committing suicide.

Verdi put in some lovely passages for the clarinet, and they were really nice to listen to.

There is enough drama in the story to be a La Traviata, Romeo and Juliet, and Tosca (the story certainly contains elements of all three,) and there is enough great music to stir the soul, yet I walked out of the theatre wondering what the opera “could have been” (to misquote the handout.)  To add to my dissatisfaction, my expectation that opera would end with Luisa back inside the wreath didn’t happen – I thought that would complete the “dream sequence.”  The marble set did come back onto the stage, though.

Curtain Call.  The set was rotated to hang over the stage, which had barely anything on it during the performance.

Somehow much music was repeated (a few lines as many as three times), which meant a longer opera than the story would warrant.  The opera ended at around 10:30 pm (three hours) and it was past 11 pm when we got back to the apartment.