Ionarts-at-Large: Bach's St. John Passion with Ton Koopman

Bach, St.John Passion, Koopman / ABO / Schlick, de Mey, Kooy, Türk, Mertens et al. - Erato .com .co.uk .de .fr

Bach, St.John Passion, Herreweghe II (1725) / CVG / Rubens, Scholl, Padmore, Noack, Volle et al. Harmonia Mundi .com .co.uk .de .fr

Bach, St.John Passion, van Veldhoven / ABO / Türk, de Groot, Daniels, Stam, et al. - Channel Classics (newly re-issued at mid-price) .com .co.uk .de .fr

Bach’s St. John Passion with a star-studded lineup of soprano Johennette Zomer, countertenor Andreas Scholl, tenor Mark Padmore, and bass Klaus Mertens, conducted by Ton Koopman, was bound to be—and indeed was—an enjoyable affair. A little over two years ago the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra performed the B-minor Mass with him, now they tackled the ‘smaller’ Passion.

The woodwind voices of the massive opening (from the usually performed 1724/49 version) stood out above a muted sea of irresistible basso continuo and strings that surged only to sweep the chorus to its entry. Stoic Joachim Held’s lute and gambist Frederike Heumann were more visual than an acoustic nod to historical performance practice. Only during the arias and the long bass arioso “Betrachte, meine Seele”—joined by a duo of viole d’amore—did they come to the fore. The reduced modern instrument forces of the orchestra crafted a fine mix of delicate restraint and liveliness—if more of the former than the latter.

Andreas Scholl’s first of two arias, “Von den Stricken meiner Sünden”, was effortful beauty—if one puts it kindly. With ungainly strain in the high notes, this far below what we know he is capable of from his two (three, if you count a dutch version) commercial recordings (Corboz and Herreweghe II in the 1725 version). “Es ist vollbracht”, the second time the alto ‘soloist’ is called upon, was much improved. Johannette Zomer, that energetic Bach siren, was her uniquely enchanting best. Strident, her voice is, even piercing perhaps—but never harsh. Klaus Mertens remains the unflinching, sonorous gentleman bass who never resorts to rumbling as some colleagues his age do.

Mark Padmore stood out even amid the impressive quartet (a quintet, if we count the pleasantly resonant Mathias Hausmann who acquitted himself impressively of his Pilatus-duties). Padmore was agile and expressive, extraordinarily strong-voiced, and delivered his part with baritonal comfort. Even as some of this security deteriorated toward the end, he still finished at a level most evangelists don’t ever reach. The BR Chorus, the jewel at the heart of this concert, is uniquely suited for such large-but-detailed choral performances… and the joy of singing Bach in some of their faces was of prayer-like beauty.

In Brief: Caveat Lector Edition

Here is your regular Sunday selection of links to good things in Blogville and Beyond.

• A major exhibit on a favorite painter, Caravaggio, opened recently at the Scuderie del Quirinale, in Rome. Yes, it's another anniversary to celebrate -- Caravaggio died on July 18, 1610, 400 years ago this year. The exhibit is not large -- 24 of the 64 large canvases generally attributed to him -- but it is an impressive collection of masterpieces, including one that has never been allowed to travel -- the Entombment of Christ, sent across the city by the Vatican. [Le Figaro]


• Every few years scientists make grand pronouncements about music or art, unfortunately sometimes in ways that show an embarrassing lack of knowledge of those things. A few years ago, some were on the bandwagon that tonality appeals to human ears because it is based on natural laws of sound, a pseudo-scientific dodge of countless historical problems (an issue one thinks would have been solved after Kenneth Levy shattered the theory). Now there is a book by Philip Ball supposedly using neurological findings to show that the human brain instinctively likes tonal music because it is based on "structure and patterns." This must explain, goes this half-baked theory, why audiences do not like Schoenberg. Of course, as anyone knows who has actually studied the music itself, Schoenberg's 12-tone music is obsessively based on patterns and rigorous structure. According to this reasoning, Schoenberg should be the sort of music our brains like the most. [The Telegraph]


• Turkish pianist Fazil Say refused to be part of the programming of the offical Year of Turkey in France, which concludes next month. In a letter he blamed the Turkish government, in particular the AKP or Justice and Development Party, for having "censored his work." This goes back to 2007 and Say's Requiem Mass for Metin Altiok (1941-1993), which the Turkish culture minister did not allow to be performed with the projection of images relating to the poet's assassination. Since Say's critical response to the incident was published, he has received death threats and one of his concerts in Munich was reportedly canceled because of the danger of some kind of retaliation. [Le Monde]


• On a not unrelated note, Algeria is not really celebrating the anniversary this year of the death of Albert Camus. A text given the title "Alert to Anticolonial Consciences" was sent to editors, university professors, and journalists to denounce the Camus anniversary, seen as an attempt "to rehabilitate the discussion of French Algeria." Seven Algerian cities were to have hosted Camus celebrations, but requests for funding made to the Algerian cultural ministry have not received any response. French cultural institutions in Algeria, one diplomat admits, are keeping a low profile and "staying underground." [Le Monde]


• A new Giant Pacific octopus has arrived at the National Zoo: an "octopus cam" has been promised. [DCist]


• To Alex Ross's Top 10 List of Glissandos, in honor of Xenakis Week, I would add the detumescent trombone slide at the end of the rape of Aksinya in Shostakovich's Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. No luck finding a clip of that scene. [Unquiet Thoughts]

Ionarts-at-Large: Haitink in Bruckner, Ozawa not in Bruckner

With all due respect to Maestro Mariss Jansons (interview on WETA) who I much admire, it is a very good idea for the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra to have guest conductors take on the Anton Bruckner duties.

Toni Bruckner, Symphony No.7, Jansons / BRSO BR Klassik .com .co.uk .de .fr

A.Bruckner, Symphony No.5, Zander / Philharmonia Telarc .com .co.uk .de .fr

The nervously micromanaging, detail-oriented Jansons has so far delivered Bruckner—live and on record—of awkwardly hollow excellence that does nothing to my Bruckner-love. Christian Thielemann, the Bruckner-reveler across town, is a wholly different story… and so is Bernard Haitink. Superficially he is a conductor similar to Jansons (understatement, subtle musicality, unhurried introspection rather than flashy extroversion), but his Bruckner feels (more than ‘sounds’) completely different: Jansons’ uncomfortable, an exercise in theory; Haitink’s totally natural and organic. That’s not to say Jansons’ Bruckner should be ignored (his Seventh on BR Klassik is good), only that it helps to lower one’s expectations. No need to lower one’s expectations for Haitink’s Bruckner. In February he took the baton and led the BRSO in the Fifth Symphony, the great Fifth.

Perhaps Bruckner’s Fifth Symphony is overshadowed in ‘greatness’ by the Eighth, in popularity by the Fourth, in catchiness by the Seventh, portentousness by the unfinished Ninth… heck, it is even overshadowed in underratedness—by the Sixth. But surely it isn’t as neglected as Benjamin Zander suggests in the commentary of his recent recording on Telarc. Only because he hadn’t performed, nor apparently much thought about, the work, doesn’t mean the rest of the conducting- and listening-world has ignored it, too. ArkivMusic lists 63 available copies—about 50 different versions—as currently available. Not the sign of particular neglect. (Zander’s recording, by the way, is a veryfine, refreshingly straightforward account—even if his fearfully excited, 80 minute commentary teeters dangerously close to a clichéd embarrassment.)

Haitink’s direction is unfussy: small gestures and his soft-yet-intense eyes steer the orchestra safely and precisely. Players of the Concertgebouw and BRSO speak admiringly of how little he needs to say in rehearsal, because his motions make intuitive sense to the musicians. Together with the BRSO’s clarity and detail the performance made for a Bruckner that simply felt right. Without highlights or pointed local flavor or exclamation marks, this was moving Bruckner-calm and impressive Bruckner-excitement—and none of the nervous, jerky push-pull of one aborted climax that denotes bad, ill-steered Bruckner. Altogether a lovely night and a performance that reminded me why the Fifth is my favorite Bruckner Symphony.

BRSO-Bruckner was supposed to continue the following week, when Seiji Ozawa was scheduled to conduct the Third (the “Wagner” Symphony). But unfortunately Maestro Ozawa was diagnosed with esophageal cancer (Tim Smith reported, among others) and has canceled half a season’s worth of engagements to make sure he’ll be fully recovered and fit upon his projected return later this year. Also scheduled was the Frank Martin “Concerto for Seven Winds, Percussion & Strings” and because seven soloists—even if they are members of the orchestra—can’t easily be re-scheduled (or disappointed), a conductor had to be found whose schedule allowed him to fill in, and whose repertoire included the Martin. Compromises had to be made, which unfortunately didn’t just mean that Bruckner had to be dropped, replaced with a Mozart Symphony and “Pictures at an Exhibition”.

Cornelius Meister, the 30 year old GMD from Heidelberg, was available but despite the promising name, he conducted more like an apprentice. He managed to be fairly close in sync with the orchestra while ostentatiously waving about during the Mozart Symphony No.29 in A major (KV201), but it wasn’t clear whether that was entirely pro forma or if it had any actual effect on the routinely lovely performance. The tempo—this touch of Meister was evident—was a very brisk one, and the first violins adhered to it. The rest caught up later.

Wolfadeus Mozart, Symphonies Nos.29, 31, 32, 35, 36, Mackerras / Scottish CO Linn .com .co.uk .de .fr

The symphony itself is worth a few words, since it is Mozart’s first exclamation mark in that genre. It was still composed for the Salzburg court, and the limited orchestration of strings with two oboes and horns reflects that. But the content was bolder, bigger—and Mozart thought the work fit to be played in one of his Vienna academy concerts some nine years after the 1774 composition date. The first and last, among four equally weighted, movements are linked by the distinctive downward octave leaps—nearly as bold as he’d later make them in the Cosí fan tutte overture. Just before this concert I received the latest Mozart offering from Charles Mackerras and the Scottish Chamber Orchestra on the audiophile Linn label: Too high a bar for the Meister-led BRSO to pass that day. Mackerras’ combination of light touch and making his chamber-sized forces exude a bold, even fat sound—rounded off with the innate musicality of one of the foremost Mozartean conductors of our time: the symphony and indeed the whole 2-CD set that also includes Symphonies nos. 31 (“Paris”), 32, 35 (“Haffner”), and 36 (“Linz”) is a charming and subtle triumph.

That’s not to say that the BRSO’s performance was all bad. One touch stood out in particular: In the Andante the strings—especially the first violins, which were more on top of things than their colleagues—achieved a wonderfully glassy, almost synthetic yet light and glowing string sound. The result of using wooden dampers, I was told.

Frank Martin’s concerto—literally and metaphorically at the center of this concert (and exactly as old as the orchestra)—was the reason I attended, and it was the clear highlight. Meister was busy keeping the beat, the orchestra was together, and the soloists, all culled from the superbly skilled first chairs of the orchestra did their instruments—flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon, trumpet, trombone, timpani, percussion—proud. How to better showcase you orchestra’s talent than with a work like this: From the fabulous flutist Henrik Wiese (Pahud has nothing on this guy) to the Bloomington-native horn doyen Eric Terwilliger and the ridiculously young and talented Ramón Ortega Quero (in 2008, at the age of 20 and shortly after his sweep at the 2007 ARD Music Competition, he became the BRSO’s principal oboist), all participated flawlessly in Martin’s perfectly natural interweaving of the soloist voices.

The only nag is that the work isn’t great Martin. In rather obviously not being so, it shows how very skilled a composer Martin was, as the real quality of composers shows best in their ‘less-than-great’ works. The treatment of the instruments, the professional progression from movement to movement all speaks to his craft. But inspiration came to Martin specifically when composing with a religious subtext in mind. Polyptique enjoys that obvious inspiration while this concerto is rather like music without expression, a concerto-grosso against treacly over-emoting.

The concluding Pictures was civilized boredom; a perfunctory performance of varying tempos that didn’t convince at either extremes, and devoid of the necessary expressive nuance. With every passing minute I more and more appreciated the piano version. Bruckner was missed, as was Ozawa. Get better, maestro—we can’t do without you, yet.

À mon chevet: Regarding the Pain of Others

À mon chevet is a series of posts featuring a quote from whatever book is on my nightstand at the moment.

If we admit as authentic only photographs that result from the photographer's having been nearby, shutter open, at just the right moment, few victory photographs will qualify. Take the action of planting a flag on a height as a battle is winding down. The famous photograph of the raising of the American flag on Iwo Jima on February 23, 1945, turns out to be a "reconstruction" by an Associated Press photographer, Joe Rosenthal, of the morning flag-raising ceremony that followed the capture of Mount Suribachi, done later in the day and with a larger flag. The story behind an equally iconic victory photograph, taken on May 2, 1945, by the Soviet war photographer Yevgeny Khaldei, of Russian soldiers hoisting the Red flag atop the Reichstag as Berlin continues to burn, is that the exploit was staged for the camera.

The case of a much-reproduced upbeat photograph taken in London in 1940, during the Blitz, is more complicated, since the photographer, and therefore the circumstances of the picture-taking, are unknown. The picture shows, through a missing wall of the utterly ruined, roofless library of Holland House, three gentlemen standing in the rubble at some distance from one another before two walls of miraculously intact bookshelves. One gazes at the books; one hooks his finger on the spine of a book he is about to pull from the shelf; one, book in hand, is reading -- the elegantly composed tableau has to have been directed. It is pleasing to imagine that the picture is not the invention from scratch of a photographer on the prowl in Kensington after an air raid who, discovering the library of the great Jacobean mansion sheared open to view, had brought in three men to play the imperturbable browsers, but, rather, that the three gents were observed indulging their bookish appetites in the destroyed mansion and the photographer did little more than space them differently to make a more incisive picture. Either way, the photograph retains its period charm and authenticity as a celebration of a now vanished ideal of national fortitude and sangfroid. With time, many staged photographs turn back into historical evidence, albeit of an impure kind -- like most historical evidence.

-- Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others, pp. 56-57

This passage comes at the end of the third chapter, at the conclusion of Sontag's dissection of the process of photographing wars and their victims. With history painting, the viewer assumes by the nature of the medium that the painter has composed an edited, even idealized version of history, but the photograph comes with the assumption that what is shown is as close to the truth as possible ("the clinical eye of the camera"). As Sontag shows, the truth is often quite different, as photographers, even those working in war zones, often do just as much composition and manipulation of their images. She traces this back to Roger Fenton, whose pictures of the Crimean War usually lead him to be regarded as the first war photographer, and to the Civil War photographs attributed to Mathew Brady (many of them were actually taken by his assistants, Alexander Gardner and Timothy O'Sullivan). Both were not always allowed to take photographs of anything at all, and both were known to have composed the scenes of their photographs, going even so far in some cases as moving the bodies of the dead.

I have made far too many marks of passages in this pithy book to quote at Ionarts: I will not post them all, but you can expect a few more. This was Sontag at the top of her game. (Take a look at these thoughts on Susan Sontag's film criticism, too.)

Whitney 2010!

The Whitney Museum of American Art's national survey of American art began in 1935 as a way to take the pulse of contemporary art at the time, and again this year my work was not selected! I know, I'm shocked too. For this, the 75th year, curators Francesco Bonami and Gary Carrion-Murayari have selected 55 artists on the basis of studio visits made around the country. A sign of modest times maybe: it's down from 81 in 2008 and 100 in 2006.

The art press was out in force this past Tuesday for the press preview, and there were more blogging/tweeting heads than ever before. It's a wave: I’m getting most of my art world updates on Facebook and Twitter. A full in-depth blog post is valuable still, but Facebook spreads and constant Twitter updates have become essential reads.

This year each artist was allowed one work or series, which also gives this biennial a smaller feel, not so hectic and scattered as in past years. I like that. Something else I like, the curators have dedicated floors by genera: for instance most of the video installation is on the third floor, which gives each artist a spacious cube of their own. It's a much more fluid viewing experience: admittedly not usually having the patience to linger with videos, this year I did.

Kate Gilmore manically destroys a closet of sheet-rock, smashing and tearing her way to the top, exposing the viewer to the beauty beneath the claustrophobia. I would be wary of renting an apartment to her. Ari Marcopolous's Detroit proves how great music begins: jammin' in the bedroom, of course. Josephine Meckseper plays a dour sound track to her Mall of America video: the shots are rich and slick, but it's kind of like Vegas -- what happens at the mall stays at the mall. It's not that big of a deal anymore, and the MoA will eventually implode of its own accord.

The guard had to show me how to enter the Edgar Cleijne and Ellen Gallagher collaboration in a box, titled Better Dimension. Lucky for me: the loop of deep kaleidoscopic reds projected in the dark space is fabulous. I think the guard in Marianne Vitale's room, listening to her video Patron loop over and over will need a very strong drink after each shift -- jus' sayin'.


Stepping off the elevator on each floor visitors are greeted by one grand piece. On 3, Pae White's curling smoke, which press photos led me to believe would be a video, is actually soft woven cotton. Everyone wants to touch it. Piotr Uklanski's large weaving of hemp, macrame, jute, and pigment on the 4th is impressive. It reminded me of El Anatsui's work, up now at Jack Shainman, and James Casebere's blown-up photo of a toy - like suburban houses set you up for a wary playfulness on the 2nd floor.

War is never far from our psyche these days. I was first introduced to Nina Berman's work through her striking wedding photo of former Marine Sargent Ty Ziegel at Jen Bekman Gallery. Ziegel was severely disfigured by a roadside bomb while serving in Iraq. Berman is exhibiting a series of 17 photos following Ty and his fiancée Renee as they plan their wedding -- wrenching, but full of love and beauty.


Photo-journalist Stephanie Sinclair on the other hand slams us with her series Self-Immolation in Afghanistan: A Cry For Help. Raw images of women's bodies scarred and burned, it's unexpected and very emotional. As my co-blogger Brent Burket mentioned, it's a relief to have Lesley Vances's wonderful paintings in the next room to ease us back from the edge. Or for that matter Maureen Gallace's simple, lush landscapes: her work always reminds me of Lois Dodd's, who by the way may also have been a good choice for this spot.

On whole this is a very good Biennial. For every artist included my mind wanders to dozens of other artists who could have been: in some cases, as with the room full of Charles Ray's floral watercolors, one thinks why at all?


Then the Bruce High Quality Foundation crashes the party by driving in a 60s-era white ambulance and schools us with their We Like America and America Likes Us video of our recent past projected on the windshield.

Like the one you're with. The Biennial is up through May 30th: for more images go to my Flickr site.

Ingrid Fliter in Triple Time

Chopin, Waltzes, I. Fliter (released on November 3, 2009) EMI 6 98351 2 4 | 67'51" Online scores: Chopin's First Editions Online

When Argentinian pianist Ingrid Fliter returns to Washington next week, to appear with the National Symphony Orchestra (March 4 to 6), she will be playing Mozart, the 23rd piano concerto (A major, K. 488). Fliter, however, first came to prominence with a strong performance at the 2000 Chopin Competition in Warsaw, where she placed second to the artist formerly known as Yundi Li. In spite of that boost, Fliter's career had become moribund until, in 2006, she won the Gilmore Prize and soon after had a full concert calendar and a recording contract with EMI. We reviewed her first release, a pleasing if not definitive selection of Chopin pieces, and are a little curious about what will become of Fliter now that none other than Yundi Li has gone over to EMI to record -- what else this year? -- the complete works of Chopin. Unfortunately, Fliter's latest disc, of the complete Chopin waltzes, misses the mark as a set: while many of the individual pieces receive performances that are quite charming, others do not.

The best tracks, like the mercurial version of the E minor waltz and the stately gravitas of the E♭ major waltz (both with no opus number), show the promise, technical and interpretative, of Fliter's near-victory in Warsaw. Fliter has excellent technique, shown best perhaps in the clear, easy repeated notes and distinct voicings in the op. 18 waltz, but there are a few minor shortcomings, most notably with passages in parallel thirds (or other intervals), which get a little choppy. This is not to mention a brief but unmistakable missed note in op. 34/3 (at 2:12), the sort of minor error that happens all the time in live performance, but it is frankly surprising that it made it past the many people who listened to the track to end up in the released version. Fliter's rubato can be a little affected and overblown, as in the many distortions in op. 34/2, the little melancholy waltz in A minor, as well as in op. 64/1. It is not a bad recording by any means, but neither will it make it among my favorite ones, by Alexandre Tharaud and Dinu Lipatti. This is not to say, either, that anyone interested in fine piano playing should miss the chance to hear Ingrid Fliter's Mozart concerto next week, especially judging by her Beethoven concerto with the NSO in 2008.

Partial Ébène

Many thanks to Robert R. Reilly for this review of the almost-Quatuor Ébène concert.

Herr Brahms, Piano Quintet, String Quartet No.1, Quatuor Ébène Virgin .com .co.uk .de .fr

I thought I was having a senior moment. Tuesday evening, February 23rd, I arrived at the Terrace Theater in the Kennedy Center prepared to enjoy the Ébène Quartet playing one of my favorite chamber works, the Mendelssohn Quartet in F minor, Op. 80, along with the Beethoven Op. 18, No. 1 and the Fauré String Quartet. My only prospective regret with this program was to have to listen to the Fauré piece, which I had heard the Ébène perform at the Library of Congress in a stunning recital with the Ravel and Debussy Quartets last March. The Fauré suffers from that comparison—can it really be expected to do much better in the company of Beethoven and Mendelssohn? Not to worry, as I saw in the Playbill an entirely different program.

We were, in fact, presented with “members” of the Ébène Quartet, along with pianist Orion Weiss, in a recital of the Schubert String Trio in B-flat Major, D. 581, the Fauré Piano Quartet in G minor, Op. 45, and the Brahms Piano Quartet in C minor, Op. 60. The reason for this reconfiguration was the indisposition of first violinist Pierre Colombet (hernia, as I later learned). Several weeks ago during the Canadian leg of the trip, Mr. Weiss was apparently parachuted in to save the Ébène Quartet tour. And save it he did. Though the hall was not full, no one who was there could have been disappointed with the stunning performances of the substitute program.

The Schubert Trio was the most poised piece of the evening in terms of its Classical origins and demeanor. The three remaining Ébène Quartet members, with second violinist Gabriel La Magadure taking over the duties of the first chair, gave it a delectable turn. It is not great Schubert but it is very lovely and quite enjoyable. The preeminence of the violin almost makes it a trio precursor of the quatuor brilliant style that became so popular somewhat later with composers such as Ludwig Spohr. The playing was beautifully blended (a hallmark of the Ébène) in the Andante and Rondo in particular. The trio played like soul mates.

Entering the Romantic world, the Ébène members and Weiss played the Fauré Quartet with a surging flow of passion and commitment that was entirely gripping and leapt at the ecstatic: A knockout performance. Weiss is a very strong player who performed the non-stop piano part limpidly and dramatically. He also fell in with the spirit of the Ébène players, who know how to capture a sense of interiority with the gentlest pianissimo, which then makes the triple forte playing all the more alarming. Violist Mathieu Herzog and cellist Raphaël Merlin gave lessons in how this is done half-way into the first movement and then Herzog did it again in the opening of the third movement. This movement was sublimely beautiful, especially with Weiss’s delicate pianissimo playing over the gentle pizzicato in the viola and cello. I harp on moments such as these because anyone can play forte and what I treasure are players who not only portray the drama but capture the intimacy in impassioned music like this. This these artists did superbly.

After intermission, yet more impassioned playing with the yet even still more passionate music of Brahms’s Quartet, subtitled “Werther” (after Goethe) for its association with despair and suicide over unrequited love. Without stinting on the big moments, Weiss and the Ébène members avoided the dangers of extroversion in music this intense and dramatic. After the Scherzo: Allegro, the players paused in prolonged silence that had nothing pretentious about it. They were simply re-collecting themselves after the storm. It was a silence full of what had gone before. The performance of the Andante that followed left me wondering how anything can be this impossibly beautiful and touching. The playing was exquisite.

To say the evening was rescued for those expecting a full Ébène is an understatement. (The clarinetist whom I attended the concert with asked me: how can you review anything this good?) However, I implore the full Ébène Quartet to return and play the Mendelssohn Op. 80 -- please.

The Thorny Business of Conducting in France

Conductor Jun Märkl

There is apparently trouble brewing among the leadership of the Orchestre national de Lyon. You may recall Jun Märkl, whom we last reviewed conducting the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra: in his position as music director in Lyon he has been butting heads with that orchestra's general director, Laurent Langlois, since the latter's appointment last May by Lyon's mayor, Gérard Collomb. Märkl has charged that Langlois's meddling has violated the terms of his contract. Marie-Aude Roux has the details in an article (Combat de chefs à l'Orchestre national de Lyon, February 5) for Le Monde (my translation):

[In response to the accusations, Langlois said:] "I was recruited for a project undertaken by the mayor's office, in order to have an artistic mission take effect. We can no longer be content with stringing together nice symphonies with good conductors." Jun Märkl replied: "M. Langlois's project is not in the interest of the Orchestre de Lyon, but in that of his own career." The situation is now in such a state of conflict that the conductor brought a law suit against the city in November 2009, calling on it to respect his contract. The terms are clear: Märkl decides what works are given on concerts, chooses the guest conductors and soloists. He accuses M. Langlois of having hired musicians without consulting him. "He has even planned meetings behind my back, in locations that were kept secret!" Märkl is referring to a meeting, on October 19, in a room rented at the Hôtel Villemanzy, in the neighborhood of the Croix-Rousse.

Serge Sobczynski, a cultural administrator in the government "does not deny Langlois's blunders," having known him previously in Rouen. He also recalls that the musicians were divided a few years ago over Märkl's appointment, a conflict that led to the resignation of Langlois's predecessor, Anne Poursin, last January. In the wake of these events, Märkl has opted not to renew his contract, which is set to end in 2011. Anne Poursin had settled on former NSO music director Leonard Slatkin as a successor, but now Langlois is making noises about "redefining the role of the music director," perhaps to make artistic decisions less the exclusive territory of the music director. Would any conductor in his right mind really want to step into this kind of situation?

Conductor Stéphane Denève

As a follow-up to l'affaire Haïm at the Opéra national de Paris last month, consider the troubles faced by another French conductor with that company's orchestra. The backstory was mentioned in a review of Stéphane Denève's concert with his Royal Scottish National Orchestra at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées earlier this month, by Marie-Aude Roux (Stéphane Denève, un "frenchie expatrié" à Paris, February 6) in Le Monde (my translation):

[The RSNO post] was a breath of fresh air in Denève's life, balm for his artistic heart. In effect his career in France had begun well, with about ten productions at the head of the Orchestre de l'Opéra de Paris. But it stumbled following a violent disagreement with a musician during a rehearsal of Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro in 2003. Stéphane Denève, like others including Philippe Auguin, Daniel Harding, Marc Minkowski, and most recently Emmanuelle Haïm, had to call it quits. "Up to that point, I had had good relations with them," he recalls. "Everything went well, Les Dialogues des carmélites, Così fan tutte, Magic Flute and Massenet's Don Quichotte. And then, over the course of time, their lack of discipline became more difficult for me to tolerate..." (emphasis added)

Denève appears happy with his position in Scotland, making a home with his family (including a young daughter) in Glasgow, and after five years, subscriptions have doubled and attendance has risen by 40%. For the moment, according to Roux, he "has refused to come back to direct a French ensemble."

Bronfman Performs Tchaikovsky Sonata

Yefim Bronfman: Prokofiev, Sonatas 2/3/5/9 Prokofiev, Concertos (inter alia)

Pianistic powerhouse Yefim Bronfman graced the stage of Shriver Hall on Sunday, offering a program of Beethoven, Schumann, Prokofiev, and Tchaikovsky. Bronfman had been originally scheduled to accompany soprano Magdalena Kožená, who canceled for personal reasons. The result was an intricately ambitious program emphasizing the artist’s strengths.

Beethoven’s Thirty-Two Variations in C Minor flowed past in a stream-of-consciousness process, with each brief variation coherently dovetailing with the next. A reharmonized theme occurred around the eighth variation, which led a pathway to further expressiveness in a work, perfectly chosen as an opener, ending simply with a succinct V-I cadence. It was a pleasure to hear Schumann’s Faschingsschwank aus Wien (“Carnival Jest from Vienna”), given Bronfman’s vivacious fluency in the extended outer Allegro and Finale movements, which left little room for safety, leading to a gripping performance. The inner Romanze, Scherzino, and Intermezzo movements were stylishly nuanced even if the Romanze was surprisingly doleful.

A highlight of Disney’s Fantasia 2000 was Bronfman’s performance of Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2 set to an animated version of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier. Born in the former Soviet Union, Bronfman is indeed one of the top interpreters of Russian music and has recorded the complete sonatas and concertos of Prokofiev: the Second Sonata in D Minor was on the program. What one experiences when listening to Bronfman’s Prokofiev is a plethora of multi-dimensional, crystal clear contrapuntal lines interspersed with sporadic splashes, pops, and dazzles of color. The literal and almost mechanistic interpretive approach that is so effective for Bronfman in this and in Fantasia 2000 flies in the face of Rachmaninoff’s fluffy type of output that we find Charles so frequently maligning.

Other Articles: Tim Smith, Yefim Bronfman gives brilliant performance of demanding program at Shriver Hall (Baltimore Sun, February 22) ---, Q&A with pianist Yefim Bronfman (Baltimore Sun, February 19) Jane Norris, At piano, Bronfman continues creativity (The Daily Progress, February 19) Lark Turner, Yefim Bronfman earns $50,000 prize, comes to Bienen School of Music to teach (The Daily Northwestern, February 12)

Tchaikovsky’s Sonata for Piano in G Major comprised the second half of the program. It is a lesser-known work that is conservatively Classical in demeanor, but the sonata exudes a wideness of pianistic heft and slowly evolving build-ups and releases that would be highly suitable for orchestra. At times it sounded as perfectly balanced as the Schumann selection; at others it traversed Lisztian harmonic boundaries, though never quite going over the top. At all times, Bronfman, with technique to spare, led the piece forward, leaving the audience wishing for more, which they received in a momentary encore, a movement possibly by C.P.E. Bach or Scarlatti.

For those to our south, Yefim Bronfman will repeat this recital program this evening (February 23, 8 pm), on the Tuesday Evening Concert Series at the University of Virginia's Cabell Hall in Charlottesville.

Mr. Blechacz Comes to Washington

Rafał Blechacz: Chopin Preludes DG 477 6592 Chopin Piano Concertos DG 477 8088 Haydn / Mozart / Beethoven DG 477 7453 Online scores: Chopin's First Editions Online

Rafał Blechacz will be making his Washington recital debut later this month (February 27, 2 pm) at the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater on Washington Performing Arts Society's Hayes Series (sold out, so contact WPAS directly to inquire about cancellations). Blechacz did the unthinkable a few years ago, hitting a grand slam at the 15th International Frederick Chopin Piano Competition in Warsaw, the first Pole to win since Krystian Zimerman in 1975. (Blechacz wrote recently that Krystian Zimerman sent his congratulations after the competition: they have since met and Zimerman has become a mentor.) So it was clear that the young man, not yet 25, can play Chopin, something that has been confirmed by two of the releases that have followed upon his new contract with Deutsche Grammophon. Indeed, the Chopin portion of his Washington recital will likely be one of the highlights of the Chopin Year, in honor of the 200th anniversary of the composer's birth -- supposedly today, according to a baptismal certificate (the composer maintained that he was born on March 1).

Blechacz's first recording for DG was a knockout version of Chopin's op. 28 set of Preludes. By comparison to the recording latest in my ears, that of Alexandre Tharaud (sampled both live and on disc), Blechacz does not emphasize the "violence and death" aspect of the pieces in Chopin's imagination, on that fateful trip to Majorca where he composed most of the pieces. Blechacz is much sweeter overall, as if the thought of death has not really affected the inner mind, with his take on no. 24, for example, not permeated with Tharaud's dread and finality. Although some of Blechacz's tempi are really fast, at 39:04 he takes about a minute longer than Tharaud, seemingly not afraid to linger over gentle moments or milk the slower pieces.

Not that he allows the music to drag or become overly sentimental, even the famous no. 15 ("Raindrop"), which opens light as mist and drizzle and moves into a middle section that is among the more threatening and violent interpretations. His technique is stunningly sure-handed, the only area where Tharaud sometimes falls short, the most demanding pieces (nos. 10, 12, 16, 22) are breath-taking. Occasionally, as in nos. 3 and 8, there is a less pleasing, sharp-fingered quality, where you hear a lot of the individual notes rather than a cascade. It can be a nice effect but it makes some of his playing a little fussy and mannered, heard also in his Beethoven and reminding me of András Schiff. Blechacz supplements the op. 28 set with two extra preludes (A♭, op. posth.; op. 45) and the two nocturnes of op. 62.

Most recently Blechacz released a recording of both Chopin concertos with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. The second concerto is generally my favorite, heard earlier this season played masterfully by Evgeny Kissin with the NSO, and Blechacz's performance of it is the more satisfying of the two. In the first, another performance of which you can watch on YouTube (1st mvt | 2nd mvt | 3rd mvt -- plus a bonanza of other videos) from (I think) his performance at the Chopin competition, the sense of ensemble between pianist and orchestra is less sure. Blechacz teeters close to being too saccharine in the gorgeous, but potentially tooth-rotting, middle movements, but is at his best in the outer movements, of which he notes in his comments on the concertos (see video embedded below) Chopin's use of Polish folk idioms. These are good performances, not least because they feature the glowing sound of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, but my suspicion is that Blechacz will make better recordings of these concertos when he is older.

The first half of Blechacz's Washington recital is devoted to Bach (the first partita), Mozart (K. 570 sonata), and Debussy (Pour le piano). For a taste of how he plays the Classical composers, there is a third disc from Deutsche Grammophon, of three sonatas by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Blechacz noted in one of his liner essays the following observation: "But my view of Chopin was enriched by performing the music of other composers, especially Bach, the three great Viennese Classical composers and Debussy, for whom the control of color and molding of the sound are so essential." The best of the three sonatas he recorded is Haydn's final piano sonata (Xob. XVI:52, E♭ major), from 1794, where his tendency toward a light, almost superficial touch suits the Rococo filigree passages. As noted above, his performance of Beethoven's op. 2, no. 2 is akin to the way Schiff plays Beethoven, a little too clipped at times for my taste. The Mozart, K. 311, falls somewhere between the Haydn and Beethoven. It is clear from what he has already accomplished, primarily as an interpreter of the music of Chopin, that Blechacz is a pianist to watch, and his recital this Saturday should be a high priority for piano enthusiasts.