A Sunday with the Contemporary Music Forum and Young Concerts Artists

Young Concert Artists

Hearing works by Benjamin C.S. Boyle more and more often and in more and more prestigious venues is very gratifying. (Although my musical tastes tend to a more modern idiom than Boyle usually delivers, the quality of the music itself and its play with traditions and contemporary influences has fascinated me ever since first hearing his Kreutzer Concert-Variations.) The Young Concert Artists’ recital at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater, last Sunday, offered such an opportunity. Now in his second year as composer-in-residence for YCA, he was commissioned to write a piece for the young harp virtuoso Emmanuel Ceysson. The resulting Suite Sylvanesque adds only another work to a string of successes. Being just about the least notably modern work I have heard of Mr. Boyle’s, most of the audience would probably not have thought the Suite any younger a work than the Fauré, Ravel, Renié, or Grandjany works that were also offered by Mr. Ceysson.

Were Boyle’s Suite lulls the ears with beauty rather than piquing it with little reminders of ‘music in 2006’ – and assuming that one might consider that a shortcoming, not an asset, in the first place – it won its laurels on brevity, that most underrated but essential skill that makes a good composer. (The grand-master of brevity, Anton Webern, was present in spirit, if not at all in sound.) Five sparkling, generally gentle movements – each supplied with a short epigraph – make for music that sounded genuinely tailored to the harp and the romantic stereotype we often associate with it.

Mr. Ceysson, in his very early twenties, played this with the same flair and impeccable, impressive skill as he did the other works. During a transcription of Bach’s French Suite No. 3 BWV 814 his red-cheeked, angelic face with puckered lips ecstasy under a well cared for mop of soft, long, dark hair made that ‘romantic abandon’ impression that is especially annoying with pianists but more forgivable with the engaged, flair-burdened harpist.

Fauré’s Une chatelaine en sa tour, op.110, consisted of muted, melting tones, Marius Constant’s Harpalycé showed that the harp need not necessarily be angelic but that it can be a raw instrument, too. In Marcel Grandjany’s Rhapsody for harp and string quartet the magnificent Jupiter String Quartet was sadly underutilized. Henriette Renié’s Ballade fantastique on Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” would have been just as extraordinarily effective music if one were blissfully unaware of the story (and that beating heart) that motivated it.

Ravel’s Intro & Allegro for Harp, accompanied by String Quartet and Clarinet makes no pretense of being a septet – the partners here hare decidedly not equal, especially with the String Quartet relegated to provide the orchestral carpet for the harps solo performance.

Amid all this, the prodigious technique and talent of Mr. Ceysson was in full display. The only criticism: He should not have talked at all… not introduced a work nor read the poetry that goes along with the Suite Sylvanesque. His thick accent rendered it completely incomprehensible, awkward… even embarrassing. The effect was one that detracted, rather than added to the music.

contemporary music forum

If the YCA concert was six seventh 20th century music, it still could not have been more different from the second cmf concert of the season at the Corcoran Gallery of Art where five sixths were also from the 20th century (with one piece from the 21st) but the soundscape worlds apart. The recently deceased James Tenney – unknown to most audiences but a favorite composer of Ligety’s and well respected by his colleagues Feldman, Cage, and Reich – came first with the Chromatic Cannon in the version for piano and tape (a pre-recorded piano track that would otherwise fall to a second player). An intriguing work that sounds like minimalism but hardly betrays its (loosely applied) 12-tone technique, builds slow but irresistible climaxes, and plays with different pulses running through the two piano parts. Jenny Lin, who played ‘with herself’, made the Chromatic Cannon appear a downright elegant piece.

Other Reviews: Daniel Ginsberg, Contemporary Music Forum (Washington Post, November 13)

Tom Lopez’ Underground (2004) is probably not music in the conventional sense but the soundtrack (ambient noise, crashes, rhythms, occasional tones) to a modern, curiously appealing short-film-cum-documentary on the London Underground by director Nate Pagel – a second in a planned series that plans to explore subway systems around the world. With graphics and ‘sound’ (like an industrial remix with a Moby beat) very professionally put together, the clip could as well have been screened at the Hirshhorn as a ‘video sculpture’.

Lawrence Moss’ “Korea for Kwartludium” (1999) for violin (Lina Bahn), clarinet (Kathleen Mulcahy), percussion (Svet Stoyanov), and piano (Ms. Lin) is based on the interesting concept of recreating or emulate an electronically assembled earlier composition of his (Korea). The same principle as on the “Accoustica plays Aphex Twin” CD, but with Korean folk elements, instead of Richard D. James’ brand of electronica. Interesting, but lacking: There was no sense of improvisation or spontaneity in this performance, only theatrical, self-important sound-reproduction which had its low points in the instrumentalists half-yelled ‘uuuuuhs’ and ‘ooohmms’.

Transfigured Wind IV for flute and audio fared better but could have been half as short. Carole Bean played this overlong 1985 work by Roger Reynolds (a Pulitzer Prize winner in 1988) which began with subtle piccolo interjections from the audio source which sounded like someone practicing in the room next door. The taped part became more complex, before lower, earthy flute chatter entered the ears. “Climax” is too much a word for it – but halfway through Transfigured Wind IV there came a particularly busy and pleasing passage before everything mellowed out into a bland, occasionally interrupted, modernist mélange. It did, fortunately, avoid most of the histrionics that other contemporary works for flute are prone to.

The Khan Variations by Alejandro Viñao for solo marimba were an impressive showcase for Mr. Stoyanov who proved great athleticism and musicianship alike in this Nusrat Fateh Ali Kahn based musical exploration. Migrations from 1997 by Alexandra Gardner, a D.C. native, closed the concert with a wild ride for percussion/marimba and piano strings (hit directly) around flute, clarinet, cello, and the piano, more conventionally steered. There was plenty thunder but melancholy underneath; the aggressive and abrasive outbursts of the music didn’t scare even Ms. Bahn’s tiny little daughter who, after escaping her minder, progressively climbed towards her mother; reaching her just in time to take bows with the musicians. It was the most human touch of the evening.

Moravec and More at the Contemporary Music Forum

The first Contemporary Music Forum concert of the season got under way last Sunday at the Corcoran Gallery. James Mobberly, Kaija Saariaho, Paul Lansky, and Paul Moravec were featured by Audrey Andrist (piano), Lina Bahn (violin), Tobias Werner (cello), Barry Dove (marimba), and David Jones (bass-/clarinet). Although the concert was not billed as such, it might well have been titled “Introduction to Contemporary Classical Music”… with all works easy on the novice ears, easy on our mood, and suitable even for children.

Most accessible and fun of them was the aptly named Hop, Paul Lansky’s 1993 contribution to the underdeveloped field of silly, toyful [sic!] music scored for marimba and violin. A wonderful example that decidedly modern contemporary classical music can still perform the essential (if not sole) function of all music: entertain. It did that with humor, coy sounds, and clap-along rhythms – but never by pandering. Lisa Bahn and Barry Dove (whose blues playing in the respective section might have been a little ‘too behaved’) were responsible for the warmhearted, immaculate performance.

Opening the concert was Mobberly’s Caution to the Winds, a duet for piano and tape. Recorded and sampled piano sounds (spat back out from what is now, in 2006, a CD player) engaged with Ms. Andrist’s piano playing. It reminds a little of György Kurtág’s Játékok (Games), and the computer sounds betray their 1987 vintage. But whereas the limitations of electronic sound production on a computer in the '80s (perhaps impressive at the time) were soon thereafter an acoustic embarrassment to our ears, they have by now acquired a patina of nostalgia and a humorous twang. In its race against and collaboration with the piano, it becomes a droll affair of (wo-)man vs. machine; a machine that sounds like a cross between R2-D2 and a saloon upright. That the whole thing is rich with musical ideas made it a happier affair, still.

Kaija Saariaho’s Petals, as of late available on CD (see ionarts review) appeared between the two works as apt contrast. Modern music like Petals (with general, rather than precise instructions to ‘create sounds’, not play certain notes at certain values) often leaves more room for interpretation and alteration as part of the performance than standard repertoire. The live experience is therefore alive… always changing and somewhat unpredictable. This not only adds to the occasion of hearing the music (whether for the first or fifth time), it predestines this kind of music for live performance. Recordings can help us understand such works better – but there is a touch of the silly involved, just like it is both cute and stupid to make a recording of aleatory music.

Other Reviews: Charles T. Downey, Contemporary Music Forum (DCist, September 19)

Whether you hear grinding glaciers, gray stones, and glass pebbles in Petals or something else altogether, it is a highly evocative score. Cellist Tobias Werner – supported by the computerized alterations that shadowed him – made the most of it. An impressive performance that would have deserved to delight more ears than found their way to the Francis and Armand Hammer Auditorium.

Paul Moravec’s Tempest Fantasy (for piano trio and bass-/clarinet) was introduced by the composer himself. It would be failure on the part of the composer not to make a work of that title sound tempestuous and failure on part of the critic to find no other description for it. Alas, Mr. Moravec himself described the opening of the fifth and last movement (Fantasia) so and quoting him is my excuse for not coming up with descriptive prose more purple.

Fantasia, which might well have been titled “Prospero Prevailing,” sums up the Puliter Prize-winning Tempest Fantasy’s first four movements: a spiky-joyous and flighty characterization of Ariel; the melancholic cello that is a lamenting Prospero; the limping dance of Caliban in the third movement (Peter and the Wolf just around the corner). And Sweet Airs, exposed on ‘Ariel’s’ violin and inspired by Caliban’s speech “The Isle is Full of Noises” (III.ii.130–138). G-D-A-E (the violin’s open strings) dominate Ariel, the Prospero cello-theme is prominantly summoned in the Fantasia - but now imbued with the jazzy beat the first movement hinted at. Caliban, a “misshapen monster” (Moravec) is portrayed by David Jones’s bass clarinet. Apt, too – since the description “misshapen monster” equally applies to that absurd-looking instrument... a Three-Mile-Island love-child between a clarinet and a saxophone.

Enough critics have commented on just how splendid (if backwards looking) a work the Tempest Fantasy is (it really is an attractive combination of cogent, sometimes challenging, melodic, lyrical, wild music with fun and high spirits packed into it). I don’t think that either the third or fourth movement would be hurt if they were a tad briefer, but whenever played as impressively as on Sunday (it may be easy on the ears but seems cruelly difficult to play), it is all too easy to see why Terry Teachout has for so long been an ardent champion of Paul Moravec’s music.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

Baltacigil on Boyle - and Bach to the Rescue

The storm that blew young Turkish cellist Efe Baltacigil onto North American stages happened in January 2005 in Philadelphia, and it didn’t so much blow him on there but keep everyone away from it: with most of the orchestra stuck somewhere in the snow, the lone cellist and scheduled soloist Emanuel Ax hastily rehearsed for a few minutes and went on stage to entertain those audience members who had braved the weather. The result was an enthusiastically received Beethoven F major sonata, op. 5, no. 1. The same work opened WPAS’s concert at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater on Tuesday – co-presented by the Young Concert Artists Series.

A great future the young man will have (and in fact already has as the associate principal cellist of the Philadelphia Orchestra), but his appearances bear the expectations of hearing something special. It is questionable if he can live up to that at every recital; last Tuesday he could not. The Beethoven, for example, was well played – but lacked any palpable excitement. His partner in crime, pianist Anna Polonsky, made up for some of that here with engaged playing, but she looked more zestful than she sounded: extremes acted out with the body, not always on the Steinway in front of her. Wonderful mezzo-forte and up, she played boldly and didn’t hold back (although a little less wild after the Beethoven). Holding back would not have been necessary, anyway, given Mr. Baltacigil’s rich, voluminous sound. More expressiveness in the soft passages, more subtle shades of piano and pianissimo are on my wishlist for her playing.

Other Reviews: Tim Page, Baltacigil Soars On Wings of Faure (Washington Post, April 27)

After the Beethoven it was on to a piece by the Philadelphia composer Benjamin C. S. Boyle (did I mention “disgustingly young” Philadelphia composer Benhamin C. S. Boyle? I would hate to abandon even a bad tradition… [read previous reviews of his work here and here]) for whose works Ionarts has a propensity of seeking concerts to go to. Composed in Paris last year, the Sonata for Cello and Piano was made for this occasion and specifically around Efe Baltacigil’s playing. It would be folly to claim that that was discernable, but it was obvious that the cellist took to the piece with gusto, cherished it and its three differing movements. Starting with a pizzicato element that suggests a jazzy flavor, the first movement (“Fantasia” - Poco Allegretto, molto liberamente) quickly changes course and becomes a free-wheelin’, double-stoppin’, roughly six-minute-long work that manages to sound novel and conventional at the same time. It doesn’t deny its 2005 date, but even conservative ears will find it listenable. The pro-Baltacigil partisan crowd in the Terrace Theater loved it. A plain, plaintive middle movement (Lento doloroso) followed, with one short peak of energy in an otherwise limp dramatic arch, haunted, saddened… perhaps because it lost its destination? We arrive at the third, final, shortest movement (Allegro molto energico e espressivo) anyway, and “energico” it is indeed. It was here that Baltacigil/Polonsky created a fair amount of ruckus, much to the benefit of the pleasant sonata. Probably shy of the best of Boyle’s work, it is only an example of the depth of this composer: so-so Boyle still sounds better than many a composer's – dead or alive – better works and we hope for more.

After intermission it was Fauré’s Papillon and Chopin’s sonata in G minor. Very lovely, flighty butterfly, that Fauré… but still not particularly convincing as far as the cellist was concerned. In the Chopin he showed us what we knew already: he has fleet fingers, total engagement with the music in front of him, a big tone, a near flawless technique. But his cello never sings, never just plays on its own (only a hint of that in the Largo); it is always pushed, pulled, beaten, driven. That can make for terribly exciting music (I suggest DSCH for a fitting match), but it can also make for listening fatigue, for a subsiding of interest after a while. (This “I’m here, all the time” way of playing may have suited the wide-eyed Boyle sonata best of those four works.) Efe Baltacigil obviously knows how to play the cello – now if he can also be played by the cello on occasion, we will deal with a musician as good as some of the reviews already suggest.

Good thing I did not leave right away (or more precisely: not fast enough), because the proof of much greater capability came hidden in the encore. Not the Gershwin arrangement, although that was nice, too, but the Bach: the Prelude from the C minor Suite (BWV 1011) was magnificent. Finally he let the cello sing. It goes to show that Bach can turn a recital one way or the other: Khachatryan’s Bach left a bad aftertaste following a very fine recital, here Bach was the brilliant finishing touch for a unremarkable recital. So ist das Leben.

The Call of the Cantata Answered

Ionarts’ tireless pursuit of finding the best music around and covering as many interesting concerts as possible had us at Samson et Dalila on Tuesday night, in New York the next day to catch the last of this season’s Bachanalia concerts at Merkin Hall, and back on Thursday for the German Requiem at the Kennedy Center. The Bachanalia concert was of interest because of the premiere of Benjamin C. S. Boyle’s latest composition, the cantata To One In Paradise.

Before that work, modeled on Bach’s Magnificat, was heard, the audience in the well-filled, acoustically excellent Merkin Hall, across from Lincoln Center, was treated to Bach’s Concerto for Oboe and Violin, BWV 1060, which is, if you wish, the retro-original transcription from the only surviving score in its consequent two-harpsichord version. Double bassist Paul Harris marvelously played throughout the work, even after his G-string (the one on the double bass, please) snapped with a loud plunk. Not the least to his own amusement, he improvised his fingering accordingly for the rest of the night. Oboist Vladimir Lande’s contribution was beyond reproach on every level, something that cannot be said for his soloist partner, artistic director Nina Beilina, who detracted a little from the over-all very pleasing performance of the Bachanalia band.

Exchanging his oboe for a baton, Mr. Lande led the players in the raison d’être of the New York excursion, Boyle’s cantata. I had a reason to expect much from this work, based on other compositions of his, especially his outstanding Edgar Allan Poe song cycle for baritone and piano Lenoriana. As it turns out, To One in Paradise, one of the few Poe poems not yet set to music, came to his attention during the composition of that cycle but proved too substantial to fit within the restrictions of the baritone songs. The commission of a cantata by Bachanalia must have come very conveniently, and thus this work was born. It did not disappoint.

Of the neo-Romantic school Boyle may be (with teachers like Foss, Maw, Del Tredici, and an audible influence of Rorem’s, that label is almost inevitable), but whether in neo(-neo)-classical (like his Kreutzer Sonata Variations) or neo-Baroque works, one cannot miss for a second that these are fresh, modern compositions that service almost everything I love in ‘music with a pulse’. The cantata does not pander to the ear in the syrupy way a John Rutter does; it has substance and something to say. ‘Substance’ is of course difficult to gauge, but by the measure of being logical, clearly structured, and developing new musical ideas, it passes with flying colors as far as these ears are concerned. A contrapuntal work, it is one large musical palindrome, culminating (structurally, if not musically) in the central fugue “For alas! Alas!,” itself a palindrome over its inversion.

The vocal soloists, with the exception of countertenor Augustine Mercante, whose cotton candy voice is of the namby-pamby kind I rather dislike in countertenors, were very good. Shari Alise Wilson’s clear, chamber-like voice befitted the character of the cantata very much, and tenor Jeffrey Dinsmore and especially baritone Andrew Cummings equally delivered far more than adequate performances. At times faint reminiscences of John Adams’s “El Niño” could be made out, if for no other reason than the relative scarcity of cantata/oratorio-style compositions of the 21st century to which to compare To One in Paradise. The lyrical treatment of E. A. Poe’s texts became beautifully plain in the concluding chorale of “And all my days are trances,” offering a bit of respite in an otherwise very driven work.

The two jazzy works after the intermission – a Ruslan Agababeayev arrangement of Ravel’s "The Magic Garden" from the Mother Goose Suite for saxophone and string orchestra (Ofer Assav on tenor sax) and Scott Joplin rags arranged for string orchestra by William Zinn – were pleasant and unpleasant, respectively, not quite as well played as the previous works and none too noteworthy. They were a lighthearted and Bachanalia-atypical concert and season finale thrown in for the board-members’ and sponsor’s entertainment, and to that end they worked rather well. Even with these two cute ‘throw-aways’, the concert must be considered to have been a success on account of the first half and its promulgation of new music, something that will continue during next season’s mix of Bach, Shostakovich, Arensky, Gould (!), some of which will come in the guise of arrangements (by Rudolf Barshai, Benjamin Boyle et al.).

For those who thought that Joplin’s Entertainer for string orchestra was phenomenal fun, the encore Pizzicato Polka must have been sheer heaven. Sadly, its sweetly lyrical legato lines were seriously under-accentuated.

The Call of the Cantata

Ionarts would like to encourage every NYC-based, contemporary music-loving reader to consider the following "call-to-notes" by the young (well, in classical music, just having a pulse would qualify as young) American composer Benjamin C. S. Boyle. His—very much tonal—music (read the Ionarts review from the last concert I was at), from hearing and reading it so far, ranges from the capable to the astoundingly gorgeous. I dare say that if it's worth a trip to New York for me, it's worth a trip down 67th Street for you, Mr. Ross & Co. (Rumors have it that Sieglinde will be there.) Here's your personal invitation:

Dear Friends,

I would like to cordially invite you to a very special musical event. At 8pm on May 18th, I will have the pleasure of presenting my new Cantata, "To One in Paradise," at Merkin Hall in New York. The Bachanalia Festival Orchestra, joined by four vocal soloists and conducted by Vladimir Lande, will premiere this new work alongside works of Bach, Ravel, and others as part of the final concert of their season entitled "Lamentation and Liberation." The poetry of Edgar Allen Poe conjures a wondrous and beautiful, if frightening, image of liberation from suffering and is set to music with this very idea in mind. For a more detailed overview of the piece, please see this.

Tickets can be purchased here.

Music With a Pulse

Here's an invitation from a young composer of my fleeting acquaintance. (Terry Teachout at About last Night has Paul Moravec, whom he has vocally supported: perhaps this could be the "Ionarts composer"?) At any rate, I've heard his music, and though Europeans would probably scoff it off as "not difficult enough" (read, not atonal) it is both beautiful and with depth... quite an achievement, I believe. For our readers in New York, this would be not only an enjoyment (I assume) but also the way to be ahead of their times! ("Oh... I knew Mr. Boyle's work before it was 'cool' to know it!") I wish we could make good Mr. Ross attend and report on it. [Sadly, I note that Alex Ross has suspended his blog for the rest of this calendar year. We wish him the best as he works on his book.—CTD]

Message from Benjamin C.S. Boyle:

Dear Friends,

I would like to cordially invite you to a very exciting musical event. On December 18th, acclaimed pianist Magdalena Baczewska will be giving a solo piano recital at the Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall in New York City. Featured on the program is a new work of mine that Ms. Baczewska commissioned from me two months hence: a Ballade. Expanding upon the hallowed narrative form of Chopin, I have created, through a fruitful collaboration with Ms. Baczewska, an eight minute work which I believe to be quite powerful and enchanting. I hope you will be able to join me for what will be a very memorable concert.

For ticket information, please contact 212-247-7800 or go to www.carnegiehall.org.

Beethoven Boyled Down

On Monday, January 26th, an ambitious program of music was to be presented at the German Embassy as part of the Monday concert series of the Beethoven Society of America. A blizzard blew the concert into March and onto one of the nicest days of the year so far, March 1. A mild evening invited being put to good use. I can't imagine much better a use than to attend the concert that Emil Chudnovsky (violin) and Michael Sheppard (piano) gave that night. I was a bit worried after my last concert experience at the German Embassy had been sub-par on every level and contrasted painfully with the lovingly arranged and excellent events at the Austrian Embassy. But the program looked promising. Beethoven's "Kreutzer" Sonata in A Major, op. 47—a gargantuan work—was to be followed by the shorter but significant Brahms Sonata in D Minor. The program announced Sonata op. 109, but I have the nagging suspicion it might just have been op. 108. It would not be the only typo on the extraordinarily flimsy program. After the intermission there were the Kreutzer Concert Variations by some contemporary composer and a slew of entertaining warhorses, among them Ravel's Tzigane and Pable de Sarasate's Gypsy Airs.

The concert was about to start when the dapper-looking chap with plateau shoes and coke-bottle glasses whom I had seen smoking outside, program in hand, turned out to be Emil Chudnovsky. It doesn't go to show anything, really, but I feel like that should have taught me some lesson. Ludwig van Beethoven's "Kreutzer" began. Michael Sheppard, whom I would have liked to talk about a bit in detail (alas, the promised bio was not forthcoming), got to work on the piano. From the very first chord on, his playing came across as muscular and uninhibited. Short, dry, and with a no-nonsense approach he played so as to let the violin seem to make itself heard: "we care not." Emil Chudnovsky procured a determined and lyrical quality in those opening bars, which sound like Beethoven but feel like Bach. It established the tone right away as enthralling Beethoven, both unfailingly exciting and unabashedly energetic. Some repeats were apparently omitted, but had they not been, the first half of the program alone would have gone on for well over an hour. During the second movement, Andante con variazioni, I would have wished for a bit more sensuality in Michael Sheppard's playing. I wonder if he was himself entirely convinced of the movement, but the result was at any rate better than any sappy and winsomely flat approach which is all too often the alternative.

The power of performance has a simplistic but easy measure: if the violinist's bow does not suffer (as it did with Mr. Chudnovsky), the performance was likely lacking. The Beethoven here was everything but. It ended easily as exciting as it started and was most warmly welcomed by the audience in the auditorium of the German Embassy. While the auditorium has the charm of a 1960s gym, the acoustics are actually quite good. (It is at any such performance worth reminding yourself of the fact that this piece, or any other, was likely never performed as well during Beethoven's lifetime. Short of individuals like Franz Liszt and Joseph Joachim—and even that's anyone's guess—performers simply didn't have the technical prowess that most conservatory graduates possess these days.)

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