Briefly Noted: Anderszewski's Central European Survey (CD of the Month)

Janáček, On an Overgrown Path (Book 2) / Szymanowski, Mazurkas (selected) / Bartók, Bagatelles (complete), Piotr Anderszewski (released on January 26, 2024) Warner Classics 5419789127 | 65'32"

Schedule conflicts prevented me from hearing Piotr Anderszewski's most recent area recitals at Shriver Hall, in 2023 and 2019, much to my regret. The Polish pianist's program last year included some of Karol Szymanowski's Mazurkas, which are at the heart of this new recital disc, combining sets of early 20th-century miniatures by three esteemed composers from central Europe. Anderszewski once summed up his approach to playing the piano by saying, "to be a musician is to make sense through sound." In performance, he continued, he allows himself "a certain incoherence," to be "in a world of feelings where strict logic is not the most important thing."

The sense of vivid storytelling in an uncomprehended language suits this compilation of pieces enlivened by dissonance and folk-inspired rhythm and harmony. The disc opens with the second book of Janáček's On an Overgrown Path, recorded in 2016 at Warsaw Radio. Anderszewski included the three pieces the composer never officially included in the in the second book, from 1911. Janáček eschewed the character titles he gave each movement in Book 1, providing only tempo markings. This choice gives some emotional distance from the subject matter Janáček ascribed to these pieces, a combination of memories of his childhood and the painful experiences surrounding the death of his 20-year-old daughter Olga in 1903.

The other two selections on this disc were captured last year in Berlin. Anderszewski has long championed the music of fellow Pole Karol Szymanowski, and he gives glowing accounts of six of the twenty Mazurkas published in the composer's Op. 50. Szymanowski went even farther than Chopin in his incorporation of folk elements in his Mazurkas, and Anderszewski brings out the blue-note touches, quintal drones, and imitation of folk instruments.

The complete set of Bartók’s Bagatelles, Op. 6, packs intense flavors into each of these fourteen pieces, most no longer than a minute or two. The experimental nature of this early score, completed in 1908, is announced in the very first piece, where Bartók notated the left hand in four sharps and the right in four flats. The mixture of modal colors, drawn from central European folk music, and atonal techniques revealing the influence of Debussy and Schoenberg, is bracing in Anderszewski's rendition. The final pair of Bagatelles reveal the influence of Stefi Geyer, the young violinist Bartók developed an unrequited love for around this time: a funeral elegy ("Elle est morte") and a madcap waltz ("Ma mie qui danse"), both containing a melodic motif associated with her.


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Briefly Noted: The Knights and the Kreutzer

The Kreutzer Project (Beethoven, Janáček), The Knights, C. Jacobsen, E. Jacobsen (released on August 19, 2022) Avie AV2555 | 75'11"

The Knights bill themselves as an orchestral collective. Whether or not the future of orchestras is exclusively small and flexible, which we hope it is not, this New York-based group has shown a way forward. Violinist Colin Jacobsen and conductor (and occasionally cellist) Eric Jacobsen have woven together this disc from arrangements and new works based on the story of Beethoven's "Kreutzer" sonata.

Responding to an inscription in Beethoven's title ("scritta in uno stile molto concertante, quasi come d’un concerto"), Colin Jacobsen has arranged Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 9 as a violin concerto for himself as soloist. The format retains the famous opening of the first movement, a sort of concerto cadenza out of place, in which the solo violin trades themes with the piano, now given life principally by the woodwinds. The chamber-sized group of fifteen strings plus single woodwinds and brass (except for a pair of horns) reveal many new dimensions to this familiar work.

Leoš Janáček wrote his first string quartet in reaction to Leo Tolstoy's novella "The Kreutzer Sonata," in which Beethoven's virtuosic music represents illicit sexual passion, with tragic consequences. A jealous husband discovers his wife in the arms of a violinist with whom she had played Beethoven’s “Kreutzer” sonata. The husband recalls hearing them play the first movement for the first time: “As for my wife, never had I seen her as she was that night. Those brilliant eyes, that severity and majestic expression while she was playing, and then that utter languor, that weak, pitiable, and happy smile after she had finished.” Although the violinist escapes, the husband stabs his wife to death with a dagger.

Michael P. Atkinson, one of the ensemble's horn players, has orchestrated Janáček's score for the same compact orchestral ensemble, with some arrangement completed by Eric Jacobsen. The piece is not even half as long as Beethoven's monumental sonata, but the arrangement amps up the turbulent nature of the music, including some atmospheric touches for harp.

Between these bookends are two new works. In a bizarre twist, French violinist Rodolphe Kreutzer never played the sonata Beethoven dedicated to him (in fact, the composer wrote it for George Hightower, an Afro-British violinist). In Colin Jacobsen's Kreutzings, instrumental phrases alternate with drum kit, and hints of Richard Strauss glimmer in the harmony and orchestration. String players will recognize the homage to Kreutzer's meticulous Etude No. 2, a bugbear for bow training. Shorthand, a string sextet by Anna Clyne, puts Knights cellist Karen Ouzounian in a solo role, with Eric Jacobsen taking up the other cello part. The title comes from a line in Tolstoy's novella, and Clyne takes motifs and ideas from both Beethoven and Janáček, with some exotic melodic elements, rather gorgeous.

The Knights will perform a slightly modified version of this program to open the 50th anniversary season of the Candlelight Concert Society 4 p.m. September 11, at the presenter's home base, the Horowitz Center in Columbia, Md.

Briefly Noted: Grimaud's 'Water'

Water, H. Grimaud (released on January 29, 2016) DG 0289 4793426-4 | 57'03"

Hélène Grimaud was last in Washington in 2008, to play Beethoven's fourth piano concerto with the National Symphony Orchestra. This recent release is partially a live recital program on the theme of water in music, which she played in several places, captured here at the Park Avenue Armory in New York in 2014. In between these tracks -- by Berio, Takemitsu, Fauré, Albéniz, Ravel, Liszt, Janáček, and Debussy -- are ethereal "transition" pieces, recorded last summer by Nitin Sawhney. In these brief, mostly electronic pieces, Sawhney creates soundscapes on keyboard, guitar, and computer, including some pre-recorded sounds of water.

The live version of this recital, reviewed in the New York Times, sounds much more interesting than the result on disc. A collaboration with artist Douglas Gordon and lighting designer Brian Scott, the concert was staged in a pool that slowly filled with water over the course of 20 minutes: "Then, the lights darkened until the hall was almost completely dark. You heard the subdued sloshing of someone walking on the flooded space: Ms. Grimaud, of course." Some of the repertoire choices are perhaps too obvious (Ravel's Jeux d'eau, Liszt's Les jeux d'eau a la Villa d'Este, Debussy's La Cathédrale Engloutie), making Grimaud's renditions of Takemitsu's Rain Tree Sketch II and Berio's Wasserklavier stand out from the crowd. A Fauré barcarolle and Janáček's In the Mists seem like stretches thematically, especially when there are choices like Ravel's Ondine, Scriabin's second sonata, and Debussy's Poissons d'Or. That last one was reportedly Grimaud's encore at some performances.

Brahms 4 from the BSO

Sibelius / Khachaturian, Violin Concertos, S. Khachatryan, Sinfonia Varsovia, E. Krivine (Naïve, 2004)

After the Brahms first symphony from the National Symphony Orchestra on Friday, it was time for more Brahms from the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. The fourth symphony was the centerpiece of the program led by Czech guest conductor Jakub Hrůša, heard on Saturday evening in the Music Center at Strathmore. Hrůša, who last appeared with the BSO in 2014 and with the NSO the year before that, led a Brahms 4 that was more my kind of Brahms playing, with the emotions rarely on the sleeve. The orchestra was returned to its normal seating, after Marin Alsop's experiments earlier in the month, and the first movement was tight and clean, from the first beats of the first movement's melancholy first theme, crowned by a big, forceful ending.

After a heroic horn introduction, the second movement had just the right tempo, not too fast, to put that forlorn clarinet theme in the best light, ambling along at its own pace. Only the third movement seemed not quite right, too harried, although it settled into a slightly slower place later. It is already jolly enough with all those triangle rolls, the only time that a percussion instrument other than timpani appears in a Brahms symphony, and the comic metric shifts and hammered accents. The concluding passacaglia had a pleasing solemnity, with intensity more than speed, especially in the slower middle part.

Other Reviews: Tim Smith, BSO makes dynamic music with conductor Jakub Hrusa, violinist Sergey Khachatryan (Baltimore Sun, February 1)

Sergey Khachatryan was the soloist in Sibelius's violin concerto, the same piece the Armenian violinist played the last time he appeared with the BSO, a decade ago. The opening of the first movement plays right into Khachatryan's strength, weaving a soft and delicate legato line over those shimmering D minor chords in the divisi violins, playing with mutes. In passages like this he tended to minimize his vibrato, which in louder passages could become a liability, at least for the clarity of tone. The E string playing was generally fine, especially the flautando notes in the third movement, but there was an unfortunate tendency toward flatness in the second movement, where the horns also had trouble staying in tune.

We are big fans of the music of Leoš Janáček here at Ionarts, but his brief orchestral piece known as Jealousy did not convince. This was both because the piece is odd, not really a curtain-raiser as it was offered here, and because Hrůša, who is a specialist in this composer's music, was at his most frantic and hard to understand, at least from the house. It was difficult to hear what either the composer or the conductor was after. One would have preferred something like the Sinfonietta instead.

Guest conductor Mario Venzago and pianist André Watts join the BSO this week, for music by Gluck, Mozart, and Schumann (February 4 to 6).

Best Recordings of 2014 (#2)

Time for a review of classical CDs that were outstanding in 2014 (published in whole on Forbes.com). My lists for the previous years: 2013, 2012, 2011, (2011 – “Almost”), 2010, (2010 – “Almost”), 2009, (2009 – “Almost”), 2008, (2008 - "Almost") 2007, 2006, 2005, 2004.

# 2 - New Release

Thomas Larcher, A Padmore Cycle, What Becomes, Poems, Tamara Stefanovich, Thomas Larcher (piano), Mark Padmore (tenor), Harmonia Mundi

T.Larcher, A Padmore Cycle, What Becomes, Poems, T.Stefanovich, T.Larcher, M.Padmore Harmonia Mundi

The Power of the Well-Prepared Piano

I knew Thomas Larcher [on Twitter] as a pianist, primarily from one of my very favorite piano recordings, the Three Piano pieces of both Schubert and Schoenberg (ECM [on Twitter]). Now, a little late to the party, I know him as a composer, too—with a release that has gripped and fascinated upon first listening as much as it does now, a good dozen times later. Thomas Larcher writes in the (excellent and funny) liner notes that he “had wanted for a long time to get away from the piano’s natural sound… Over time I associated this sound… with a sense of something… obsolete, at a dead-end.”

What doesn’t bode well—if you’ve ever heard a modern work in which a violin is stroked on the rim of a pasta pot (not that I have; I’m exaggerating for effect), you know what I mean about gratuitously using instruments against their intended ways—turns out most delightful. A well-prepared piano still works along the lines inherent to the nature of its sound-production (whereas amplified power-drilling into one of its legs might not be such an “inherent way”) and brings out its nature as the percussion instrument it is. So much about the whimsy and feisty two opening short pieces entitled Smart Dust, music that appeals like the most accessible of John Cage rubbing up to Gia Kancheli (if that is helpful).

After that, Larcher turns back to the conventional piano, the Poems and the Leif Ove Andsnes-inspired and Tamara Stefanovich-performed What Becomes. The opening of “Frida falls asleep” (Poems) has all the catchiness of a Van Halen riff and on a dime it turns into meditative mood that would befit Erik Satie. Both works prove to be lyrically seductive, contemplative, and occasionally ardent. These insinuated qualities are also plenty present in the real heart of the disc, the Padmore Cycle song-cycle (curiously commissioned by the Alois Lageder winery, not a concert venue or performer), as are neat dissonances and strewn-in shards of anguish. Tenor Mark Padmore throws himself into ‘his’ cycle with his typical abandon and artistry; tasteful even in the extremes and by sheer conviction always staying well clear of the naff. The result is modern, yes, but not abrasive but instead wholly absorbing in a way that is easier to feel than to understand.

# 2 – Reissue

Leoš Janáček, Erwin Schulhoff, String Quartets, Talich Quartet, La Dolce Volta 256

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Czech Philharmonic Comes to Fairfax

Many thanks to Robert R. Reilly for this review from the GMU Center for the Arts.

Dvořák, Complete Symphonies and Concertos, Czech Philharmonic, J. Bělohlávek (Decca, 2014)

At the George Mason University Center for the Arts on Friday evening, November 14, 2014, the Czech Philharmonic, under conductor Jiří Bělohlávek, offered an almost all-Czech program of music during the Washington-area leg of its American tour. The first half of the evening consisted of Leos Janáček’s rhapsody Taras Bulba and Franz Liszt’s second piano concerto (A Major, S. 125), with French pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet as soloist. The second half was taken up with Antonin Dvořák’s ninth symphony (E minor, op. 95, B. 178, "From the New World").

This orchestra has been my gold standard in Czech music for many years. I think the last time I heard them live was in a volcanic performance of Janáček’s Glagolitic Mass back in the 1980s in Carnegie Hall. My very favorite recordings of Janáček and Martinů remain those of the Czech Philharmonic, under the late, great conductor Karel Ančerl. I wondered how well served my memories would be by the current iteration of this orchestra, under a conductor who brought with him great expectations, having just been awarded this year’s Antonín Dvořák Prize (and last heard here with the Prague Philharmonia in 2012).

The answer is well served, indeed. From the beginning of the Janáček, it was clear that Bělohlávek deserves his fine reputation in the Czech repertory, particularly with the works of Smetana, Dvořák, Janáček, Suk, and Martinů. He and the Czech Philharmonic are native to the wildness of Janáček’s eccentric music, its orchestral brilliance, and its use of punchy motifs and dramatic abbreviation. Together, they brought Taras Bulba vividly to life, with all its wild swagger, clashing swords, pounding hooves, swirling dances, and poignant melodies. The piece was pulsing with life, with finely articulated playing from the winds and brass, and a very strong, surging string section. An early entry of the chimes seemed to stick out a little too far from the orchestral fabric, but that could be due to the acoustics of the room. In any case, every instrument is answering every other instrument in this vital portrayal of its subject matter, and these forces caught the urgent sense of communication.

I confess that Franz Liszt is not one of my favorite composers, except for his magnificent oratorio Christus. In any case, it was a great pleasure to hear Thibaudet’s superb pianism in the second concerto. I could not imagine a more limpid touch in the opening Adagio or a stronger forte in the soon-to-follow Allegro. The work itself has a wild, almost improvisatory character that, to me, verges on hodgepodge. It certainly contains a lot of ear candy and has dazzling moments in the mercurial flow of marches, dances, and whatever else Liszt chooses to throw in. Because of the quality of playing by both the orchestra and soloist, this display piece made for an enjoyable romp.

Other Articles: James R. Oestreich, Regardless of Offstage Worries, Onstage It’s All Artistry (New York Times, November 17) Eric C. Simpson, Home dishes prove ideal menu for Czech Philharmonic (New York Classical Review, November 17) Tom Huizenga, Played by Czech Philharmonic, 1890s Dvorak sounds fresh as ever (Washington Post, November 17) Zachary Woolfe, A Maestro Returns, First There, Now Here (New York Times, November 14)

I admit that it was the Janáček that I principally came to hear. I am not sure I would have struggled out on a cold night to listen to another performance of the hugely popular Dvořák ninth. However, the Czech Philharmonic played with such warmth, power, and precision that my reservations at hearing this piece again were soon swept away.

The reaction of the audience was so enthusiastic that Bělohlávek offered two encores -- a scintillating rendition of Smetana’s overture to The Bartered Bride, and then a sweet Valse Triste by Oskar Nedbal (1874–1930), a Dvořák student, who later became conductor of the Czech Philharmonic. Bělohlávek conducted effectively with an economy of motion -- no histrionics for him. Whatever he is feeling he lets the music express. He and his forces produced a wonderfully rich sound without sacrificing clarity.

Bělohlávek and the Czech Philharmonic will perform Smetana’s Vltava, a symphonic poem from Ma Vlast, and Dvořák’s ninth symphony this evening at Washington National Cathedral (November 17, 7 pm) in celebration of the 25th Anniversary of the Velvet Revolution and the legacy of Václav Havel.

Boston Ballet @ KC

(L to R) Lasha Khozashvili and Lia Cirio in D.M.J. 1953-1977, Boston Ballet (photo © Rosalie O’Connor)
This year is the 50th anniversary of the Boston Ballet, a milestone the group is celebrating with a brief run of performances at the Kennedy Center Opera House. Seen last night, the selection made by artistic director Mikko Nissinen highlights his organization's strengths in the contemporary, while the central panel of the triptych -- the Rubies portion of George Balanchine's Jewels sandwiched between two recent works by Czech choreographers -- had a musty quality.

This Rubies was a mild-mannered, sort of happy-go-lucky version by comparison to the recent performance by New York City Ballet, which is the source, so to speak. It was fun and jazzy, of course, but Whitney Jensen in the dynamo solo role was less buoyant, and her scene with the four men, who position her like a marionette had little menace or sizzle to it. This put the focus more on the couple of Jeffrey Cirio and Misa Kuranaga, whose pas de deux in the central movement was lovely. The Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra sounded like they were much more familiar with the music, Stravinsky's Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra, although the piano soloist from the Boston Ballet, Freda Locker, was less sure.

Other Articles: Sarah Kaufman, Boston Ballet performs ‘Bella Figura’ at the Kennedy Center (Washington Post, June 4) ---, The Czech National Theatre Ballet at the Harman Center (Washington Post, April 27, 2009) Rebecca Ritzel, Kennedy Center performances cap 50th season for Boston, Pennsylvania ballets (Washington Post, May 31) Jeffrey Gantz, Boston Ballet glitters in ‘Jewels’ (Boston Globe, May 23) ---, Boston Ballet puts its versatility on display in new production (Boston Globe, May 10)

D.M.J. 1953–1977, by Czech choreographer Petr Zuska, was more alluring, a work whose title refers to the names of the three Czech composers whose music is heard in it, just premiered by the Boston Ballet last month, but seen in Washington in 2009 from the Czech National Theater Ballet. (The years 1953-1977 in the title were glimpsed by Zuska on a woman's tombstone in Montreal.) It tells the story of a man's regret over the death of a beloved woman, as he seems to sleep fitfully, tormented by bad memories, between scenes. The Largo from Dvořák’s “New World” Symphony, with its haunting English horn solo, was the backdrop for scenes of mournful reminiscence, as six couples acted out the joys and sorrows of conjugal life, after the man deposits a rose on what looks like a grave. Martinů’s third symphony, also the Largo movement but more jagged and driving, was paired with scenes of greater violence and tension, with the outstanding male lead, Lasha Khozashvili, shirtless and menacing. For the final scene, to the last movement ("The Barn Owl Has Not Flown Away!") of the first book of Janáček’s piano collection On the Overgrown Path, the corps gathered around the tomb, and hearing the hoot of the barn owl in the score, gradually departed. The lamented woman, danced with muscular agitation by Lia Cirio, writhed about in anguish on a tomb-like bed.

The triptych concluded with the most disturbing of the three pieces, Bella Figura, by another Czech choreographer, Jiří Kylián. It uses a mishmash of unrelated music -- Lukas Foss, Pergolesi (movements of the Stabat Mater, the Adagio from Alessandro Marcello's D minor oboe concerto, a Vivaldi mandolin concerto -- and the corresponding vignettes, some compelling and others merely odd, were just as much of a mishmash. Kylián, like Zuska, uses a lot of mime, a sense of having crossed a line reinforced by the choreographer's embrace of silence for long stretches at the beginning and end. To make matters worse, the music was played from recordings, with a canned, obtrusive sound and leaving the orchestra pit darkened, only adding to the sense of something unfolding in the machine-cut way that it must. The movements of identically costumed men and women, bare-chested and with red, flower-like skirts, added a Polynesian flair and there were some interesting visual effects, as when one of the women was enveloped by a black curtain, but not enough to sustain interest.

This performance repeats tonight and tomorrow night (June 4 and 5), in the Kennedy Center Opera House.

Mutter and the Band

Dvořák, Violin Concerto (inter alia), A.-S. Mutter, Berlin Philharmonic, M. Honeck (DG, 2013) S. Currier, Time Machines, A.-S. Mutter, New York Philharmonic, M. Francis (DG, 2011)

Last week was to have featured the National Symphony Orchestra's debut performances of Bohuslav Martinů's first symphony, a Serge Koussevitsky commission from 1942. Any opportunity to hear one of this composer's six symphonies in live performance is welcome -- the last opportunity was no. 6 from the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra in 2007 -- but the latest city-shuttering snowstorm on Thursday scuttled that plan. The NSO's guest soloist, Anne-Sophie Mutter, was to have played Time Machines, a new violin concerto by Sebastian Currier, only on Thursday night, replaced by Dvořák's violin concerto on Friday and Saturday. The cancellation of the Thursday night concert demanded a reshuffling of the programming, and Mutter generously agreed to play both of these concertos at both of the remaining performances (this review concerns the Saturday performance) -- an arrangement that allowed the contemporary piece to be heard, twice instead of just once for its local premiere, without angering the Friday and Saturday patrons who had paid to hear her play Dvořák. The only disappointed listeners, me and the other person who wanted to hear Martinů, will just have to wait another few years.

Mutter has been a regular with the NSO over the years, and her connection to Christoph Eschenbach has only strengthened that association. The German violinist lends the sheen of her name to many new works for violin, including concertos -- Previn, Gubaidulina, Krzysztof Penderecki, Wolfgang Rihm -- her considerable technique, sense of pitch, and formidable memory are strengths in this area. Currier describes Time Machines, a seven-movement work, as exploring "the relationship between the perception of music and time." The ribbon of time was perhaps reflected in the piece's opening theme, a running motif of buzzing notes -- heard first in the solo then echoed by the violin section, it is accompanied by accented chords both in solo and orchestral forms. The buzzing theme is recalled, in compressed form, in the third movement, a sort of chatty scherzo, begun and ended with cracks of the whip in the percussion section, and in the fourth, where motoric motifs are layered on each other. The same sense of sound marking the passage of time is featured in the second movement where, over lush sustained chords, the solo's jagged shouts ricochet across the orchestra in close-paced echoes, creating one of many beautiful effects in this work. The same themes degrade into clusters in the entropy movement (no. 5), ending in a memorable sort of cadenza where the violinist is answered by many instruments, most memorably the flexatone, and seem stretched out into chords, in a way that recalled the film scores of Hans Zimmer, in the finale. It is not a piece I expect to hear ever again in a live performance, but it was diverting and absorbing the first time around.

Other Articles: Anne Midgette, A double delight from Anne-Sophie Mutter and the NSO (Washington Post, February 17) Peter McCallum, Anne-Sophie Mutter and Mozart: still keeping things fresh (Sydney Morning Herald, February 3) Clive Paget, Anne-Sophie Mutter: Thankful for what she's got (for now…) (Limelight Magazine, January 21)

The Dvořák violin concerto is a pretty piece, and Mutter plays it very well, but anyone who heard the work the last time the NSO played it, with Augustin Hadelich as soloist, is likely spoiled by that performance as I am. Mutter occupied the piece with her trademark sound, glossy and sexy like the form-fitting gowns she wears -- the throaty wail low on the G string, the acid edge high on the E string, impetuous in the sense of rubato and choice of tempo (a blistering one for the third movement, for example, that did away with the modifier "ma non troppo") -- and my ears were impressed by the polish more than moved. Throughout the evening, Cristian Măcelaru, currently associate conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra and substitute conductor on more than one podium, made a solid NSO debut, showing an easy, supportive hand in both concertos. The revised program kept its opener, the suite from Janáček's delightful opera The Cunning Little Vixen, arranged by Václav Talich, also heard for the first time on an NSO concert. Măcelaru, with restraining gestures, helped keep the NSO's sound at its most evanescent in key passages, allowing charming solos -- the violin's waltz with the harp, the dreamy flute scene with paired solo violins, the mournful viola lament -- to fill the stage. Măcelaru's keen sense of the score kept the folk-like dance sections and sharp brass exclamations all firmly in line, too, for a pleasing overall effect.

Another violinist, Christian Tetzlaff, plays another new concerto, this one by Jörg Widmann, in the next program from the National Symphony Orchestra (February 27 to March 1).

Dip Your Ears, No. 153 (Věc Makropulos from Salzburg)

L.Janáček, Věc Makropulos, E.-P.Salonen / WPh & Vienna State Opera Chorus A.Denoke, R.Very, P.Hoare, J.Adamonytė, J.Reuter, et al. C Major Blu-ray / DVD

Ferocious Energy

The 2011 Vienna Philharmonic at the Salzburg Festival was in rare form, which paid dividends, too, in Janáček. Their Makropulous Case has sweep and drama and ferocious energy, sometimes sardonic wit, then chilling severity. (Review of the performance here: Notes from the 2011 Salzburg Festival ( 17 ) - Věc Makropulos Fantabulous) Salonen creates an arch from beginning to the harshly cackling, then Puccini-esque lyrical, brassy finale. Angela Denoke as Emilia Marty a.k.a. Elina Makropulos is outstanding in every way. Christoph Marthaler’s direction, Anna Viebrock’s sets, and the period costumes are full of apt ambiance (as if straight out of a Kafka play) and succeed in making Janáček’s magnificent music work on the audience in its direct way.

Made possible by Listen Music Magazine.

John Adams Residency, Day 2

E.-P. Salonen, Lachen verlernt (inter alia), J. Koh (2009) Adams, Road Movies (inter alia), J. Koh, R. Uchida (2010)

Half of the concerts in the Library of Congress's residency with composer John Adams are in the Coolidge Auditorium, with the other half at the Atlas Performing Arts Center, including last night's recital by violinist Jennifer Koh and pianist Reiko Uchida. The only apparent benefit gained by doing this is that one does not have to go through a security check at the Atlas, a tradeoff probably not worth the loss in acoustics. The audience being mostly the same as the one that shows up at the Library of Congress, it seems unlikely that anyone who would go hear Jennifer Koh at the Atlas would not, for whatever reason, go to hear her at the Library of Congress, where it is both easier to park and closer to a Metro stop. Not that I mind one way or the other, since both venues are about the same distance from me, but it does seem like the Atlas venture is mostly about adopting some kind of hip appeal.

Adams explained the concept of this program as centered on "what's ethnic about a work of art," combining music that had some "connection with the demotic, with the daily culture" of a place. That included a diptych of two central European composers both known for their absorption of folk music and the rhythms of their languages. Koh gave Janáček's violin sonata a compelling sense of narrative, a speech-like fluidity, with a beautifully limpid tone on the violin, especially velvety and soft in the striking second movement ("Ballada"). At the keyboard Uchida was also best here, creating a misty veil of sound with the rolled piano chords, although there was some stickiness in her octaves in the first movement. The third movement had a folk-like heartiness, with Koh drawing out a raucous tone through the mute in the B section. Bartók's 1944 sonata for solo violin, on the second half, was the highlight of this excellent program, strikingly different in its folk sublimation from the Janáček. Each phrase and idea was so clearly etched, all the more remarkable because Koh played without a score, making some vicious sounds but also playing with many colors and exceptional suavity. The fuga, with all of its demanding double stops, was so clear and clean in the overlaying of contrapuntal voices, with almost faultless intonation. The last two movements featured a symphonic conception of sound, with solo sections answered by fuller textures as in a sort of concerto, and the nocturnal serenade section marked by ghostly echos in harmonics. A tour de force performance all around.

Where Koh and Uchida sounded best together was in the oldest piece on the program, Schubert's A major sonata (D. 574), the almost banal A theme of the first movement treated guilelessly, with Koh's radiant simplicity of tone and Uchida's light, lovely touch serving this tuneful music so well. It is a happy-go-lucky sort of piece, its rollicking scherzo second movement playful more than mischievous and a tender-hearted trio -- unfortunately, the return to the scherzo caught the page-turner by surprise, the first of two such gaffes. Uchida's consummate professionalism kicked in and she recovered expertly in spite of it all. The slow movement had no whiff of tragedy about it, just avian trills and twittering traded between the instruments, while in the finale the piece finally cut loose and danced its way home. The contemporary slot was filled by Esa-Pekka Salonen's Lachen verlernt, a chaconne composed in 2002, which Koh also played at Strathmore last December. As an unaccompanied piece it demanded comparison with the Bartók, against which it held its own both formally and in terms of virtuosity, music that is enjoyable both to listen to and to reflect on afterward, again impressing by Koh's pure intonation, even in double stops.

Other Reviews: Stephen Brookes, At Atlas, Jennifer Koh offers an unforgettable whirlwind of sound (Washington Post, May 25)

Finally it was time for some Adams, represented here by Road Movies, an homage to the delights of driving on the open road in the American West, written for a commission from the Library of Congress's McKim Fund in 1995. The composer described his connection to the "ethnic" in music as represented by blues, country fiddling, and the American music of Stravinsky. Adams once described the thing he disliked most about the serial, academic styles of composition was that "rhythm was atomized," a trend that his infectiously metrical, syncopated music -- and Road Movies is a prime example -- shows as a dead end. The first movement, in spite of that second page-turning mishap, flowed and turned in a mesmerizing way, down to the high flautando violin note that ends it. The second movement, a "desert landscape" as Adams put it, with its many blue notes, was punctuated by the croaking low F of Koh's scordatura tuning -- Adams calls for the G string to be tuned a whole step down. The wild ride of the third movement was breath-suspending in its quickness, prickling on jabs of sound from the keyboard.

Left Bank Concert Society

Charles T. Downey, Left Bank Quartet offers strong programming, spotty performance
Washington Post, March 12, 2013

P. Moravec, Tempest Fantasy (inter alia), Trio Solisti, D. Krakauer [Review]

The Left Bank Quartet has distinguished itself by its programming of contemporary music, if not always by the overall quality of its playing. The group’s performance on Sunday afternoon, presented through the Steinway Series of free concerts in the auditorium of the Smithsonian American Art Museum, was a case in point. Two more-commonly heard quartets, by Leos Janacek and Antonin Dvorak, received professional but unremarkable renditions, while a relatively new work by American composer Paul Moravec stood out.

Actually, Moravec’s “Tempest Fantasy” is not exactly an unknown quantity, either. In the years since it won the composer a Pulitzer Prize in 2004, it has received a few performances in the area, proving itself a durable piece over multiple hearings. Guest pianist Audrey Andrist, building on her experience performing the work, anchored this performance with fleet fingerwork, while Paul Cigan stole the show with his grunting bass clarinet turn in the Caliban movement, a monster struggling its best to achieve elegance. [Continue reading]

Left Bank Quartet
Music by Dvořák, Moravec, Janáček
Smithsonian American Art Museum

Toby Spence de Retour

Charles T. Downey, Vocal Arts D.C. offers milestone local recital of tenor Toby Spence
Washington Post, January 18, 2013

Janáček, Diary of One Who Disappeared, I. Bostridge, R. Philogene, T. Adès (2001)

Vocal Arts D.C. presented two major debuts Wednesday night, the first local recital of Toby Spence and the first appearance of Leos Janacek’s “The Diary of One Who Disappeared” on its concert series. The English tenor’s fine performance at the Kennedy Center Terrace Theater brought that mysterious Czech song cycle to life, as well as Robert Schumann’s poignant “Dichterliebe,” in the original high keys.

Sadly, this milestone almost did not come to pass, because Spence, 43, was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in late 2011. In February, he underwent a delicate surgery to remove his thyroid and some lymph nodes, an operation that involved many of the muscles and nerves crucial to his voice. It was not certain that he would be able to sing again, but with excellent medical care and vocal rehabilitation, he has taken the stage again, making his debut at the Metropolitan Opera last fall.

Most of what distinguished his voice, a sweet lyric sound and dulcet ring at the top, has returned and will probably continue to improve. Spence seemed poised and at ease, glowing with all of his former charismatic confidence, aside from a few scratches and moments of strain. Continue reading]

Toby Spence, tenor
Carrie-Ann Matheson, piano
With Sarah Mesko, Stacey Mastrian, Rachel Carlson, Lindsey Paradise
Robert Schumann, Dichterliebe
Leoš Janáček, Diary of One Who Disappeared
Vocal Arts Society
Kennedy Center Terrace Theater

SEE ALSO:
Heather Brady, After losing his voice to cancer, tenor Toby Spence learns how to sing again (WTOP, January 14)

Rupert Christiansen, Toby Spence interview: 'The sounds that came out were terrifying’ (The Telegraph, January 2)

From the 2012 ARD Competition, Day 3

Day 3, String Quartets, Round 1

Running a prestigious music competition puts its administrators in a most enviable position. Not only for getting to foster musical talents—gratifying as that must be—but even more so for being able to shape the performance industry from the ground up. Bad habits are formed early and easily reinforced and a competition, as one of the first professional experiences for many of the participants, can undo some of the damage. Like putting a stop to the circus-shtick of playing without a score. Or better yet, by requiring them to look beyond the usual repertoire with the selection pieces from which the prospective musicians have to chose. Even if a singer or clarinetist or, in this case, string quartet opts for the most conventional of the given choices, they will still—one hopes—have looked at some of the others and might remember them when they run out of new things to play.

The ARD International Music Competition does that more notably this year than they usually do. Augmenting one of two dozen Haydn Quartets or one from Beethoven’s op.18, the participating string quartets in the first round also had to play one of the following: Berg, Lyric Suite. Bertold Goldschmidt 1, 2, or 3, Pavel Haas 1, 3, Janáček 1, Hindemith op.16 or op.22, Gideon Klein Fantasy & Fugue, Hans Krása, Schoenberg op.30, Erwin Schulhoff Five Pieces, Stravinsky Three Pieces & Concertino, Viktor Ullmann 3, or Zemlinsky 2. That’s repertoire-enrichment by fiat, even if the Janáček sucked up some of the alternative-repertoire-oxygen, being chosen by four of ten Quartets.

Six String Quartets had already played in this year’s ARD International Music Competition, four more were scheduled for Sunday, September 9^th. All four had virtues that would have merited a second-round ticket, all those virtues were different, and none of them convinced outright. Since every one of the ten quartets was moved on into the second round, there’ll be plenty opportunity to hone in on their divergences and relative merits.

The Armida Quartet from Germany counted a very well played Haydn Quartet op.76/1 among their assets, a light divertissement and fleet in the first movement, husky and with a wonderful sense of calm in a great Adagio sostenuto. On the downside, there wasn’t an excess of transparency or precision, and the husky tone that worked so well in the slow movement and the Allegro ma non troppo Finale, was apparently their go-to sound and that didn’t work equally well elsewhere.

Read more »

Elias Quartet a Welcome Guest

Charles T. Downey, Elias Quartet, at Library of Congress, proves well worth discovering
Washington Post, March 30, 2012

Haydn / Schumann, Elias Quartet Live, Wigmore Hall (released on May 8)

The Czech music week at the end of the Kennedy Center’s Music of Budapest, Prague and Vienna festival continued, unofficially, Wednesday night at the Library of Congress. The Elias Quartet, formed in 1998 at Manchester’s Royal Northern Music Conservatory, made its Washington debut at the venue’s free concert series, playing an all-Czech program with American pianist Jonathan Biss.

With a couple of live recordings at the Wigmore Hall (on that venue’s private label) to its name, this talented string quartet is well worth discovering. Opening with Josef Suk’s “Meditation on the Old Czech Chorale ‘St. Wenceslas,’ ” the group found all the pathos and shimmering beauty in what could easily be an overly sentimental trifle. [Continue reading]

Elias String Quartet with Jonathan Biss (piano)
Library of Congress

Josef Suk, Meditation on the Old Czech Chorale 'St. Wenceslas' (for string orchestra or string quartet)
Janáček, String Quartet No. 1 ("Kreutzer Sonata"), played here by the Janáček Quartet
Janáček, In the Mists
Dvořák, A major piano quintet, op. 81

More Czech Music

Mendelssohn / Mozart / Schubert, Elias String Quartet (live, Wigmore Hall)

The Music of Budapest, Prague, and Vienna festival at the Kennedy Center brought plenty of music by Czech composers to our ears last week, performed by the National Symphony Orchestra and other ensembles. If there is no limit to the Czech music you like to hear -- especially when it comes to Leoš Janáček, in my case -- console yourself this evening with the latest free concert at the Library of Congress (March 28, 8 pm). The young Elias Quartet, an ensemble of young British musicians formed at Manchester’s Royal Northern Music Conservatory, joins American pianist Jonathan Biss for an all-Czech program.

The Elias, which has a couple of live recordings at the Wigmore Hall (on that venue's private label) to its name, will perform Josef Suk's Meditation on the Old Czech Chorale 'St. Wenceslas', composed for string orchestra (when played by a string quartet, the contrabass part is omitted), and Janáček's first string quartet, known as the "Kreutzer Sonata" (played here by the Janáček Quartet). Truthfully, I have not yet been all that impressed by the playing of Jonathan Biss, but the high opinion of other listeners and critics encourages me to keep an open ear. He will perform selections from Janáček's piano work In the Mists and join the Elias Quartet for Antonín Dvořák's A major piano quintet, op. 81.

NSO Keeps Things in Czech

After the National Symphony Orchestra's blockbuster performance of Dvořák's Stabat mater on Thursday night, Christoph Eschenbach gave the singers and some members of his orchestra a night off. For this week's B side performance, to match a program of Hungarian dance music and Viennese light favorites in between heavy vocal performances the previous two weeks, Christoph Eschenbach offered an evening of Czech rarities. The evening was slightly long, perhaps one work too many, and at least some were heard to grumble at intermission about the fact that the first half consisted mostly of chamber music. Still, once again, one had to admire Eschenbach for programming works that had not been heard from the NSO in twenty years or, in one case, ever.

The main attraction was two unusual pieces for larger chamber ensemble by Leoš Janáček. Young Czech pianist Lukáš Vondráček was on hand to play the keyboard part in these works, which are sort of like miniature piano concertos with an odd assortment of companion instruments. The Concertino for piano, two violins, viola, clarinet, horn, and bassoon, from 1925, received its debut performance by the NSO. A companion work to Janáček's opera The Cunning Little Vixen, it features the instruments as forest animals: the piano in a frantic monologue with the horn in the Hedgehog first movement; a scurrying, chattering squirrel in Loren Kitt's turn on the piccolo clarinet in E♭; the three strings in discordant owl calls in the third movement; and all of them together in the final movement. It is a virtuosic piece, with a bear of a keyboard part, but it all sounded confident and well coordinated.

The results were less felicitous with Janáček's Capriccio, composed for Otakar Hollmann, a Czech pianist who had lost the use of his right hand due to injuries in the First World War. The part is no less difficult, of course, and Vondráček seemed to have it less assuredly in his fingers, his eyes remaining much more glued to the score. Six brass players (two trumpets, three trombones, and a guest musician on tenor tuba) gave the necessary anxiety to the ostinato figure that haunts the work's opening movements. The flute part, played with clarity by Aaron Goldman, dispelled those worries and took the work into a sort of Pelléas-like Symbolist ambiguity. Thanks in no small part to the leadership of the NSO's new assistant conductor, Ankush Kuman Bahl, the piece held together in spite of a few insecurities.

We probably could have done with only one of the serenades by Antonín Dvořák, although both of them had appeal. The D minor serenade, op. 44, is essentially a wind band piece, with lots of oom-pa-pa accompaniment and echoes of Mozart's Gran partita at some points. Most of the melodic weight falls to the first oboe, and principal oboist Nicholas Stovall was in good form, with strain evident only on some very high notes. If the composer's Stabat mater fell before his first experiments with incorporating folk music into his music, this piece showed some of his first successes in that direction. The serenade for strings, op. 22, was the best known piece on the program, although it, too, had not been heard from the NSO since 1992. Issues of sectional unity and intonation seemed to indicate that more rehearsal time would have been beneficial.

Prague Philharmonia

Mozart, Symphony No. 38 / Voříšek, Symphony in D, Prague Philharmonia, J. Bělohlávek Martinů, Violin Concerto, I. Faust, Prague Philharmonia, J. Bělohlávek

Jiří Bělohlávek resigned as director of the Czech Philharmonic in 1992, after he was somewhat unceremoniously ousted from that position in favor of Gerd Albrecht. Soon after, Bělohlávek formed the Prague Philharmonia, a chamber orchestra of forty-some musicians. After serving as music director through the ensemble's first decade, he was succeeded by Kaspar Zehnder and Jakub Hrůša. Now, after a much-admired tenure at the BBC Symphony Orchestra, Jiří Bělohlávek will begin a second term as music director of the Czech Philharmonic, beginning this fall, two decades after his first one. After a guest engagement with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra last weekend, the Czech conductor had another local appearance on Tuesday night, leading the Prague Philharmonia in the Kennedy Center Eisenhower Theater as part of the Music of Budapest, Prague, and Vienna festival.

The Prague Philharmonia was formed in the image of the 18th-century court orchestra, a mid-sized ensemble, and that era's music -- balanced, diverting, clear -- is their specialty. This came across in the final piece on the program, the Symphony in D Major, op. 24, by Jan Václav Voříšek (1791-1825), which received the most unified, crisp, and pleasing performance of the evening. Voříšek was born in the year that Mozart died, and his life was cut short at around the same length as his Viennese idol. Having worked primarily as imperial court organist, he wrote a pile of liturgical choral and organ music, most of it forgotten. This symphony was his first foray into orchestral music, completed only a few years before the composer died. Bělohlávek and the Prague Philharmonia recorded it a couple years ago, and while it may not be an immortal work, it is worthwhile listening.

Where the violin section had occasionally sounded at odds with one another in the other selections, the intonation slightly askew, in the copious amounts of figuration in this piece they were taut and lean. The outer movements of this symphony sound the most like Haydn and Beethoven, formally not that adventurous, the recapitulation of the first movement sneaking up on the listener, and the fourth brimming ebulliently with wit. The second movement, marked Andante, had the feel of a Beethoven funeral-march slow movement, with an elegiac middle section, followed by a well-manicured but urgent third movement.

Other Reviews: Robert Battey, Prague Philharmonia leaves big impression (Washington Post, March 22)

All in all the playing was quite fine, although there were more problems with lack of ensemble and tuning in the first two pieces. Mozart's overture to Don Giovanni, premiered in Prague in 1787, seethed with anxiety and a sense of impending doom in its slow opening section, with the fast section pushed just a bit too far in tempo. Bělohlávek may not craft interpretations that grab the listener by their originality, but everything has been well thought out and placed properly in terms of balance and shape. The violins clearly knew when they were secondary in importance to the winds, allowing for some clean, unforced playing in the woodwind solos.

Leoš Janáček's Suite for Strings, an early work completed in 1877, was lovingly played, especially the ardent, pining second movement, only violins and violas, and the pleasant country walk of the third. The fifth movement featured a fervent cello solo, in dialogue with the violin section, and a particularly cohesive sixth movement rounded out a well-crafted performance. Two encores, after the Voříšek, showed off the best qualities of the orchestra: a sparkling overture from Rossini's La Scala di Seta, with a workout for the talented principal oboist, and the third movement from Antonín Dvořák's Serenade for Strings.

The focus on Prague continues this week at the Kennedy Center with the final festival concerts from the National Symphony Orchestra: Dvořák's setting of the Stabat mater sequence (March 22 and 24 -- thoughts on that tomorrow) and some more lighter orchestral fare by Dvořák and Janáček (March 23), with pianist Lukáš Vondrácek.

Twelve Days of Christmas: Always More Janáček

Janáček, Choral Works, T. Walker, P. Mayers, Cappella Amsterdam, Radio Blazers Ensemble, D. Reuss (released on January 10, 2012) HMC 902097 | 71'42"

No one has to twist my arm to listen to more music by Leoš Janáček. Given the Czech composer's background in liturgical music, including a formation as a chorister and student with the Augustinians at the Abbey of St. Thomas in Brno (where Gregor Mendel was a monk and then abbot -- Janáček later played the organ at Mendel's funeral), he wrote quite a lot of music for chorus and knew how to write well for voices. The selection of choral pieces heard on this fine new release from Harmonia Mundi, featuring the excellent chorus of Cappella Amsterdam, includes two lovely sets, as well as a few stand-alone pieces. The young Janáček adapted the Six Moravian Choruses from the Moravian Duets of Antonín Dvořák, and they are just as charming as the original. Even simpler -- and yet more complicated -- is Nursery Rhymes, a charming group of 28 miniatures on almost nonsensical fairy-tale texts, composed originally in a version accompanied only by clarinet and piano late in the composer's life and performed here in the expanded version he made for an unusual assortment of ten instruments (including, at various points, a quite charming ocarina and toy drum), played evocatively by the Radio Blazer Ensemble. Janáček also astounds in his use of harmonium and harp in the expansive, meditative, harmonically lush version of the Our Father, with many repetitions of the Czech text. Liturgical musicians should not be fooled by the plush male-chorus Ave Maria, which sets not the Latin devotional text but a Czech translation of words by Lord Byron from Don Juan. Favorite discoveries include the decadently gorgeous song The Wild Duck and vigorous The Wolf's Trail, both secular pieces, and the intensely personal Elegy on the Death of My Daughter Olga (the second child the composer lost, Olga died at age 20, after becoming sick while studying in Russia), one of several opportunities to appreciate the heroic voice of British tenor Thomas Walker.

Takács Quartet at Clarice Smith Center

The Takács Quartet's Saturday evening performance of music by Janáček, Britten, and Ravel was mixed. The second half of the program was given over to Ravel's Quartet in F, executed with a polished refinement and gentle flexibility within larger thoughts. The second movement (Assez vif-très rythmé), a pizzicato jam, was simultaneously vigorous and warm. The intimate Gildenhorn Recital Hall in the Clarice Smith Center at the University of Maryland is an ideal setting for chamber music. When the Takács were at their best, one seemingly experienced sound from all directions.

Janáček's programmatic String Quartet No. 1 ("Kreutzer Sonata") opened the program. The first violinist addressed the audience, speaking about the lovely slow theme taken from Beethoven that Janáček modifies and uses rhetorically in the third movement, to contrast the brooding scuffle representing the murderous husband of the story. The concise work, four movements all marked with some tempo variation of "Con moto," turns on a dime from one emotion to another. A sense of innocently confused questioning is evoked in the second movement, which could represent the conflicted wife in Tolstoy's novella.

Other Reviews: Ivan Hewitt, Takács Quartet, Queen Elizabeth Hall, review (The Telegraph, October 20) Andrew Clements, Takács Quartet – review (The Guardian, October 19)

Britten's String Quartet No. 1 in D was commissioned by Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge, and then composed and premiered in the United States in 1941, when the composer was in his late twenties. Although composed during the war -- when Britten's pacifism caused him some trouble at home -- Edward Dusinberre, the first violinist of the Takács Quartet, generously described it as "a youthful, exuberant work." The Quartet's uneven performance did a disservice to an already flighty piece. One section of the playful final movement features the cellist jamming under a unison line by the upper three musicians; however, their unison sound was tense and not unified. Furthermore, the first movement contains extended sections of ultra-high notes played by the violins and viola over cello pizzicato. These slow, shrill clusters were painful to hear, with the three unblended upper strings vibrating at different speeds and the viola sounding in a range that was less than flattering. To quote the late theorist and pianist Ed Aldwell, "sawdust." With this in mind, perhaps the Takács's "youthful, exuberant" context to this conflicted work with its longingly homesick third movement is too simple, particularly for a composer who would go on to write the War Requiem twenty years later. Both depth and exuberance were missing from this performance of the Britten.

Hear the Takács Quartet at the Théâtre de la Ville, playing Ravel, Bartók, Dvořák, and Haydn. Click on the icon of the headphones to start the streaming audio. [France Musique]

East Meets West, Uncomfortably

See my review of the latest concert at the Freer Gallery of Art:

East Uncomfortably Meets West (The Washingtonian, October 14):

L. Janáček, String Quartets, Prazak Quartet

The free concert series at the Freer Gallery of Art intends to encourage the rapprochement of European and Asian musical cultures, but it often ends up demonstrating how uneasy such a union is. The latest concert there, on Thursday night, featured a selection of European and Japanese music combining the Lark Quartet with koto player Yumi Kurosawa. Music from both cultures were best represented by their own traditions, while a couple new pieces that attempted to cross the divide did so somewhat uncomfortably and with little success.

The Lark Quartet was last heard in Washington in 2005, at the National Academy of Sciences. Since then, it has welcomed a new second violinist and a new cellist, part of a turnover trend in the ensemble over the years. The one thing that has remained the same is that the group has been, pointedly, an all-female ensemble since its founding, something that was still unusual in the 1980s when groups like the Colorado Quartet were challenging a male-dominated classical world. In recent years, the foursome has been concentrating on genre-crossing collaborations, a focus perhaps leading them to style themselves, apparently in earnest, as the “LARK Quarte+” on their Web site. [Continue reading]

SEE ALSO:
Anne Midgette, Yumi Kurosawa and the Lark Quartet at the Freer and Sackler Galleries (Washington Post, October 15)