Album Reviews: My Liederabend | An Album a Day Keeps the Doctor Away

You may notice I haven't posted in a few days. This week, I learned that online school is still a full-time job when you procrastinate as much as I do. Oh well.

But that doesn't mean I haven't been listening -- in fact, as assignments pile up, I've been listening more than ever!

A few nights ago, I had a particularly difficult and long-winded problem set. Long enough that I feel like I can put "reconstructing sounds of proto-Quechuan" on my resumé now. I found myself hankering for lieder, so I put on one album after another and next thing I knew, I had gone through four full albums.

I figured it prudent for my time (and yours) to do a mini-reviews post rather than four full-length posts. So here you go: a summary of my liederabend.

1. The Contrast: English Poetry in Song

Carolyn Sampson, soprano; Joseph Middleton, piano. Works by Walton, Vaughan Williams, Bridge, Quilter, and Huw Watkins. Released on BIS in February 2020.

I don't believe in God. But I do believe in Carolyn Sampson. And that's kind of the same thing.

I think there might have been a time when Carolyn Sampson was a strict early music specialist, but thankfully she's branched out. Of course, her Bach solo cantatas are still my favorite out there, but her musical sensibility applies so well to everything and anything, from heavily stylized French baroque to quirkier selections like these. I'm not going to try to find words to describe her voice, but let's just say this: I sent this album to a good friend and her reaction was (verbatim): "Who is this angel, and when can I see her live?" Joseph Middleton has that perfect touch of a pianist who specializes in lieder, never overshadowing the voice and always magnifying its drama. They are the unstoppable duo.

2. A Lesson in Love

Kate Royal, soprano; Malcolm Martineau, piano. Works by pretty much anyone you can think of. Released on Warner Classics in February 2011.

The program of this album is all over the place in the best possible way. Cabaret songs, Schumann and Brahms, folk music of America, Britain, Ireland, France, all in some of the best versions I've heard. Case in point: almost every soprano has recorded "Gretchen am Spinnrade" at some point, and Royal's rendition is easily in my top three (right up there with Carolyn Sampson). Her American music is better than most American singers -- two different takes of William Bolcom's jazz-twinged "Waitin'" give the varied program a distinct contour and a resounding cadence, and a short pastorale of Copland left me halfway to tears. Malcolm Martineau accompanies the simple British airs -- think "Danny Boy" and "O Waly, Waly" -- with just as much tender attention as the more conventionally difficult music on the program.

3. Art Songs

Fiora, soprano; Paul Hankinson, piano. Works by a lot of people, look for yourself you lazy bum. Self-released in 2002.

I'm pretty sure Fiora hasn't thought about this album in awhile. She's now a successful singer-songwriter with 600,000 monthly listeners on Spotify. But before she hit her fame in that field, she released a single album of art songs -- she's a classically trained vocalist and composer. Honestly, I was really impressed. She's got this lovely syrup to her voice, fluid and unencumbered by excessive vibrato. Her program has a couple standouts, including the opening movement from Hindemith's "Das Marienleben" (a piece that makes me regret not being a soprano) and a beautiful original setting of "The Watcher" (couldn't figure out who the poet was).

4. The Divine Muse

Mary Bevan, soprano; Joseph Middleton, piano. Works by Haydn, Schubert, and Wolf. Released on Signum Classics in January 2020.

Haydn's vocal works never get the love they deserve. Recently, I've fallen in love with Arianna a Naxos, a virtuosic monodrama depicting the scene where Theseus abandons Ariadne on the island of Naxos. Fiery, passionate, and vocally demanding, the music suits Mary Bevan's full voice perfectly, Ariadne's agony clear from her frenzied inflections. She cools significantly for selections from Wolf's vast vocal opus, the crunchy harmonies providing latticework for her calming melodic overlay. And of course, you can never go wrong with Schubert. Overall, a fabulous album -- though maybe not as fabulous as her recording of Holst's set of four songs for soprano and violin, one of my favorite pieces ever (I have a lot of favorite pieces ever).

Album Review: "Where Only Stars Can Hear Us" by Karim Sulayman and Yi-heng Yang | An Album a Day Keeps the Doctor Away

WHO: Karim Sulayman, tenor; Yi-heng Yang, fortepiano
WHAT: Songs by Schubert
RELEASED: March 2020
LABEL: Avie Records

A few months ago, I had the fortune to see the Kaleidoscope Vocal Ensemble give a workshop here in New Haven as part of their inaugural performance weekend (my thoughts here). I was milling about afterwards and ended up briefly chatting with one of their tenors, Karim Sulayman.

Rewind for one second: Sulayman's first solo album (I think? Karim, feel free to correct me on this post's Twitter thread) won last year's Grammy for Best Classical Vocal Solo. That album, an Orpheus-themed program he recorded with Cleveland baroque ensemble Apollo's Fire, deserved every bit of that gold statue.

Anyway, I told him I was a sometimes-critic and that I loved his first album, and he said, "Oh, you should review my second album which comes out in March!" I'm sure he's talked to a lot of people since that September night, and I have no reason to believe he would remember this exchange six months later. But hey, I was planning to listen to the album anyway, might as well write a thing or two.

This Schubert has its priorities straight. Text comes first in Sulayman's interpretations. The small inflections in his timbre convey textual themes equally well to audiences of all German-speaking levels -- take that from me (three semesters of college German) and my best friend (a lifetime of Mahler scores and nothing else). From the seemingly bratty child in Erlkönig (RIP), to the poignantly longing fisherman of Des fischers Liebesglück, he is an actor first.

If you do nothing else, watch this video. Like, I'd rather

you watch this video than read my review. Completely serious.

But, of course, that's not to detract from his voice, clear and transparent. He barely covers his sound, allowing every ounce of that underlying emotion to shine through -- have you ever heard what a smile sounds like? Now I have.

Both performers treat these lieder as chamber music. It's unclear who leads the stretches that come so often throughout the album, but whenever one part pushes, the other follows. Yang's slightly delayed cadences gain weight with a quick breath from Sulayman. Sulayman stretches a phrase climax, Yang rolls a chord to help accent. The two work symbiotically, melding the intense drama from each of their parts into a composite, deeply affecting pathos.

I want to hear Yi-heng Yang play more Schubert on this amazing 1830 fortepiano. What are the odds someone can fund her to do a sonatas album? (Plus, her Erlkönig was....just wow. Especially considering the slow action on most fortepianos....wow. Wow wow wow.)

Schubert is parlor music. I really don't need to hear a Wagnerian heldentenor shake the walls with Winterreise. A good Schubert duo goes overboard in their story-telling, but not in their sound production -- the walls don't need to shake as long as my heart is full. Sulayman and Yang are a good Schubert duo. Perhaps even a great Schubert duo. Or maybe an unstoppable Schubert duo.

Old people, a word from the next generation: stop crying about how we'll "never have another Pavarotti" and instead listen to the immensely talented tenors that we do have. You might be pleasantly surprised.

Besides which, can you imagine Pavarotti singing Schubert? Ew.

[46] American Modern Opera Company presents "Veils for Desire" at Caramoor | #1Summer50Concerts

One moment before God decides that the Abraham-and-Isaac 

telenovela doesn't need to end like Orange is the New Black did

(intentionally vague to avoid spoilers -- if you know, you know)

WHO: American Modern Opera Company (Anthony Roth-Costanzo, countertenor; Paul Appleby, tenor; Matthew Aucoin, piano; Wayne Koestenbaum, narrator)
WHAT: Veils for Desire: Works by Britten, Monteverdi, Bach, and Aucoin
WHERE: Spanish Courtyard at Caramoor
WHEN: July 25, 2019 at 7:00pm

Poolside blogging. I think I've reached a new low.

Just a short one for today, because I reviewed this concert for Opera News (I think it'll be published in October along with my last one?) and I can't release any spoilers! So here are a few things that didn't make it into my review:

• I think short-sleeved button downs are the concert dress of the future, especially when they're bright pink like Wayne Koestenbaum's was. Too bad I can't pull one off to save my life.
• ARC and Paul Appleby had an interesting father-son chemistry in Britten's Canticle II: Abraham and Isaac -- it worked, to say the least.
• Wayne Koestenbaum is a badass. He didn't sing, so I couldn't say much about him in my review. But he had such a cadence to his speech...love at first word.
• Caramoor is still absolutely LOVELY. Nature for the win.
• I wish trains ran from Katonah more than hourly because I waited on that platform for, like, half an hour and I had about 973 bug bites to show for it.

The review should drop soon! I'll link to it when it does, and you can read it (if you're a subscriber).

[38] Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center plays Mozart, Brahms, and Arensky at Alice Tully Hall | #1Summer50Concerts

WHO: Anthony McGill, clarinet; Bella Hristova, violin; Nicholas Canellakis, cello; Juho Pohjonen, piano
WHAT: MOZART Violin Sonata No. 32 in B-flat major, K. 454; BRAHMS Clarinet Trio in A minor, Op. 114; ARENSKY Piano Trio No. 1 in D minor, Op. 32
WHERE: Alice Tully Hall
WHEN: July 14, 2019 at 5:00pm

I have exceptional luck when it comes to getting into sold-out concerts. From Chunky in Heat at the very beginning of the summer, to Pierre Hantaï in mid-June, and a couple others pre-summer, I usually can negotiate myself into at least standing room.

I've only been turned away from one concert this summer, and that was the first of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center's first summer evening concert on July 10. The Wednesday evening concert, which featured works of Schubert and Dvořák alongside Mendelssohn's rarely heard piano sextet, was sold out except for one seat which was offered to me at a premium of $85 -- to be expected considering the lineup, which included famed pianist John Kimura Parker, NY Phil principal violist Cynthia Phelps, and Tokyo Quartet cellist Clive Greensmith.

So I decided to come back with some friends and try for the next concert. Three $10 tickets later and we were sitting in the third row waiting eagerly for the downbeat.

Our anticipation was met with a heaping bowl of meh.

I mean, it wasn't unpleasant. The notes were correct, at least. But the musicians were, for the most part, dialing it in. Bella Hristova's Mozart wasn't particularly musically interesting, not that you could hear her above Juho Pohjonen's hammer-hands. I think the Mozart might have suffered from Hristova's nerves, though -- her Arensky was much looser and more refined.

Nick Canellakis's vibrato covered up anyone who he played with, most notably clarinetist Anthony McGill. From what I could hear of him, McGill played the most genuine performance of the evening, granted I could hear precious little over the opaque stylings of Canellakis and Pohjonen. And Pohjonen had possibly the most awkward stage presence I've ever seen, his face motionless and his body just kind of jerking around.

I don't want to belabor negativity, but I'll finish by saying this: I could see Canellakis being a great soloist in a thousand-seat concert hall. Pohjonen as well. I know for a fact Hristova can play the shit out of her instrument -- see the video at the top of this post. But this was simply not their day.

At least there was free wine after the performance :)

P.S. I'm no style guru, but CMS seriously needs to learn that white jacket + black tie is not an indoor look. Period.

[37] Davóne Tines and the Dover Quartet play Mendelssohn, Dvořák, Barber, and Caroline Shaw at Caramoor | #1Summer50Concerts

Perks of reviewing for legit organizations: actual professional photos (PC: Gabe Palacio)

WHO: Davóne Tines, bass-baritone; Dover Quartet
WHAT: MENDELSSOHN Theme and Variations, Scherzo, and Fugue from Four Pieces for String Quartet, Op. 81; BARBER Dover Beach; CAROLINE SHAW By and By; DVOŘÁK String Quartet No. 14 in A-flat major, Op. 105
WHERE: Spanish Courtyard at Caramoor
WHEN: July 12, 2019 at 8:00pm

I'm not going to say much about this performance -- I reviewed this concert for Opera News and I don't want to give away my opinions before it gets published. I'll link the review here once it gets published -- you can read it if you're a subscriber.

In the meanwhile, here are a few things that I didn't get to mention in my review:

• Davóne Tines's stage outfit was a black suit with no shirt. Let me tell you, he ROCKED it.
• There was some action with candles onstage -- Tines lit a candle in the silence between Dover Beach and By and By, and an ill-timed breeze nearly burned the stage tent down.
• At the pre-concert Q&A session, a(n over-)zealous chamber-music camp parent chaperone asked Dover cellist Camden Shaw how he handles it when he gets lost in a performance. After a short pause, he answered in his booming, croony voice, "I don't know, look pretty?"
• Caramoor is absolutely LOVELY. You know why? Because nature is great. NYC almost made me forget that.
• Caroline Shaw was not there or I would have said hi to her this time. I promise.

Stay tuned for the full review!

[36] Pauline Kim Harris and Spencer Topel perform original compositions at The Stone @ Mannes | #1Summer50Concerts

WHO: Pauline Kim Harris, violin; Spencer Topel, electronics
WHAT: HARRIS/TOPEL Ambient Chaconne; Deo
WHERE: The Stone @ The New School
WHEN: July 11, 2019 at 8:30pm

In theory, going to concerts shouldn't be tiring. You get to sit. In air-conditioning, usually. Other people do the work of filling your ears with beautiful music. It's all included in the ticket price -- you just sit back and relax.

But going back to what I said a couple posts ago about not being able to turn my critic brain off -- concerts are tiring for me. In my mind, listening to music is synonymous with forming judgments. I don't see that as either a good thing or a bad thing. It just kind of is how I work.

Occasionally, though, I wish that I could lose myself in a concert. Turn off my brain for a few minutes.

I'm not going to tell you that I succeeded. But I came damn close at this concert.

I'm usually not a huge consumer of ambient music, but there are some great classical-ambient crossovers. I think that the Harris/Topel duet is going to join the greats of the genre when their new album comes out in September. Armed with only a violin, a microphone, and a soundboard, the two presented a refreshing take on Bach (and also another composer -- I'll explain in a second).

I can't tell you a whole lot about the music itself. It moved slowly, sometimes changing so slightly over such a long period of time that I couldn't detect the transformation until after it had already happened. There were no jagged new-music-characteristic jump scares; just the sweet tone of Harris's violin, looped and amplified and augmented.

The first piece, Ambient Chaconne, was a transformation of the famous chaconne from Bach's D minor violin partita; bits and pieces were recognizable throughout, but the already-long piece was lengthened from 15 minutes to almost half an hour with a range of clever electronic fillers. (Side note: I turned to my trumpet-playing friend after the performance and asked if he'd heard the original chaconne. Blank stare.)

The second piece was based on a Deo gratias -- I heard the composer as Lachenmann, my friends heard Bach. Neither of those people wrote Deo gratias settings. Phooey. But it was great.

Update: I just looked at the album's liner notes. It was Ockeghem's Deo gratias. I think I was closer.

You can pre-order the album, Heroine, here, or just wait until September 27, when it will hopefully be available on Spotify. Fingers crossed.

EDIT: It's September 27, and the album dropped and is just as good as the live version was! 

[22] Pierre Hantaï plays Bach's Goldberg Variations and more at the DiMenna Center | #1Summer50Concerts

                                            

WHO: Pierre Hantaï, harpsichord
WHAT: BYRD Will Yow Walke the Woods soe Wylde; BACH Prelude and Fugue in d minor; BACH English Suite in a minor; BACH Goldberg Variations
WHERE: DiMenna Center for Classical Music
WHEN: June 19, 2019, 7:30pm

I was SO excited when I heard that the Orchestra of St. Luke's was using June as a Bach celebration month. They had a couple of really interesting programs at Carnegie earlier this summer -- one of Bach orchestral music, one of cantatas -- and I was looking forward to seeing them, until one day I called their box office to get tickets:

ME: Hi, I'd like one student ticket to tonight's concert.

OSL REP: That'll be $65.

ME: *spit take, hang up*

In the end, I decided that my budget allowed me to go to only one of OSL's Bach presentations, and that decision was a no-brainer. Pierre Hantaï is one of the world's best harpsichordists. The Goldberg Variations is one of the world's best pieces. The concert was cheaper than any of the programs OSL was putting on at Carnegie. Win-win-win.

I was stupid. I didn't buy tickets ahead of time, and when we got to DiMenna the tickets were sold out. Even though my brother and I were second in the waitlist line, my heart was still pounding. Hantaï himself came upstairs for a smoke break before the concert started; it took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to approach him and beg on my hands and knees for a ticket. But I played it cool. And we got tickets, along with the 20-some Hunter College students whose professor had forgotten to make reservations even though seeing this performance was required to pass their class.

$40 for the Goldberg Variations seemed like a fair price, but apparently Hantaï didn't think so. He announced a completely separate program for the first half of his concert -- apparently, he likes to "meet ze harpsichord" before deciding on which pieces to pick out of his three-inch black high school binder. He started with the only non-Bach work on the program, citing William Byrd as a "direct predecessor of Bach's," which is a characterization I don't necessarily buy, but whatever. The Byrd theme and variations was fabulous, reserved yet supremely musical.

The prelude, fugue, and suite that followed let Hantaï put his distinctly French musical sensibilities on display. The flow was rhythmic, though not mathematical, and in those rare moments where strict rhythmic accuracy was not appropriate, Hantaï's flourishes were regal and well-organized.

As for Goldberg: of course it's a tremendous piece, but it's also LONG. Hantaï's fingers began to run out of steam in the middle -- an obvious wrong note every now and then. But his brain was in it the whole time. Even the occasional wrong note was masked by his cogent interpretation. I'm not going to mention any specific variations, because I counted about three before I lost track until the last variation, which is my favorite.

Hantaï feels like the kind of guy who can adapt to any environment. I mean, he doesn't get to bring his own instrument, and there's much more variation in the mechanics of a harpsichord than in, say, a piano. Harpsichords can have two separate keyboards stacked upon one another, and any number of levers and buttons to press to achieve the different timbres that it can't get from the player's touch. I don't know whether Hantaï spent 10 minutes or 10 hours learning the ins and outs of the DiMenna harpsichord (a beautifully decorated double-manual instrument), but he played it as if it were an old friend.

Hantaï's masterful performance was accompanied by lighting design by Burke Brown. I was expecting the lighting to be really loud -- a couple months ago, I saw pianist-composer-electronics artist Kelly Moran, whose set was accompanied by abstract animations in neon pinks and greens and blues, which was beautiful but also a lot to take in. Rather than a barrage to the eyes, the lighting read more as a mood intensifier, soft argyles of color on the wooden-slat back wall of the concert hall. Most importantly, the music came first.

I know a lot of people who say they unilaterally don't like the harpsichord because it "sounds like mosquitoes" or something like that. I urge those people to get out and listen to a real harpsichordist play a really good harpsichord. A good player knows how to take advantage of the harpsichord to its fullest, and Hantaï did just that. Not a single tone was left unexplored on that instrument. There may be a new Goldberg king in town -- move over, Glenn Gould.

I'm just kidding Glenn, I love you

[19] Downtown Voices and NOVUS NY perform Bartók and Orff at St. Paul's Chapel | #1Summer50Concerts

                                         

WHO: Downtown Voices; NOVUS NY; Stephen Sands, conductor
WHAT: BARTÓK Sonata for Two Pianos and Percussion; ORFF Carmina burana
WHERE: St. Paul's Chapel
WHEN: June 16, 2019, 3:00pm

"Blessed are those who make classical music accessible by putting on free Sunday matinee concerts."

-- God, probably

I had a good hour and a half to kill before the concert started, so I decided to pop into a Starbucks and blog a bit. I sauntered on over to the chapel with plenty of time to spare -- it was maybe 25 minutes until the concert started -- and I arrived to find out that a) there were no full-view seats left and I had to go sit in the balcony and b) St. Paul's Chapel has free wifi, so I could have sat in the front row and worked while I waited for the concert to start.

It was just not my day, I guess.

When I got up to the balcony, I looked out over the audience and any shred of resent I had immediately melted. The great thing about a matinee concert is that it isn't too early or too late for anyone. That meant that parents brought their children, all sat in a row and clad in frilly dresses and bows and cute little button-down shirts. I felt a little underdressed in my usual t-shirt and jeans ensemble, but then a guy wearing shorts sat down next to me. Phew.

I don't know what Trinity Wall Street's worship services are like, but I can tell you one thing: their music programs are outstanding. Their flagship ensembles are a full professional choir and one of the leading baroque orchestras in NYC, but they also have burgeoning new music, youth, and community programs.

One of the best things about the Trinity music program is that all of their different levels collaborate often. This particular concert drew from almost all of their programs; the age range was approximately 6 (the youngest members of the Carmina children's choir) to 86 (the oldest members of Downtown Voices).

Needless to say, most of the audience was there for Carmina burana, but that didn't stop NOVUS NY from delivering a compelling version of the Bartók sonata (in this case, more like Bartok's Sonata for Two Pianos, Percussion, Police Sirens, and Brooklyn-Bound 6 Train -- but that's not their fault). Pianists Daniel Schlosberg and Lee Dionne had their backs to each other, but it was blatantly obvious that their heartbeats and pulses had synced -- it was as if one person was playing two parts. Percussionists Ian Rosenbaum and Victor Caccese worked as an impressive team, pushing the unpitched percussion parts to the front, almost treating them as melody instead of emphasis.

                               

Me at the beginning of Carmina burana, colorized (2019)

At the start of Carmina, it became clear that Downtown Voices was not just any community choir. I would have been content seeing them on stage with the New York Philharmonic, or with any visiting orchestra at Carnegie Hall -- in fact, I think I liked their performance more than I usually like the NY Phil's house choir. They felt well-rehearsed, but still interested; no one was 'dialing it in' and everyone looked like they couldn't imagine being anywhere else at that moment in time.

Soloist-wise, tenor Brian Giebler stole the show with his roasted swan-song ("Olim lacus colueram"). He paraded onstage in a black-and-red reversible sequined jacket and proceeded to full-voice the entire movement, which is a feat in and of itself. What made his version particularly impressive was how he delivered it -- it read almost like a country ballad, the way he occupied the back of the conductor's podium and swung his legs off. Country-classical crossover -- talk about a thing I never thought I'd enjoy.

Baritone soloist Christopher Dylan Herbert shouldered the largest musical load of any of the soloists, and did so with grace and accuracy. His "Estuans interius" was particularly noteworthy, his passionate high range not buckling under the emotional weight of the movement. Also of particular note was the children's chorus, which wrenched the hearts of audience members with their toothy-grinned "Amor volat undique."

There was not a single person in that room that wasn't having fun. From the pianists, to the four percussionists, to the choir and soloists, to the audience, even to Trinity's music director Julian Wachner, who did nothing but work the microphone the whole time -- the energy in the room was electric. Even the youngest children in the audience sat wide-eyed the whole time, as if under Carl Orff's spell.

This concert just cemented a hunch that I've had for awhile: if Trinity puts it on, then it's bound to be good. Trinity doesn't deal in mediocre music, but it's not like that's a prohibitive factor. They have perfected the art of getting the most out of every musician, and making every musician feel like they're giving the most they can. And if that doesn't satisfy you, then consult a doctor: you might be a sociopath.

[5] Sonnambula and Piffaro play Praetorius at The Met Cloisters | #1Summer50Concerts

WHO: Sonnambula Viol Consort and Piffaro: The Renaissance Band
WHAT: Michael Praetorius: Dances from Terpsichore
WHERE: The Met Cloisters
WHEN: June 1, 2019, 3:00pm

The Cloisters are pretty inaccessible to anyone who does not have a car. It's super easy to get there if you can drive -- there's a road that dumps you straight outside the ominous stone doors. I, however, am confined to the subway.

The Met Museum website claims that 190th Street is the best subway stop for The Cloisters, but last time I tried to go that way I got very lost in the web of paths that calls itself Fort Tryon Park -- all roads supposedly lead to The Cloisters, except I managed to find all the ones that don't? So, I tried my luck with the next station, Dyckman Street.

Google Maps said 0.2 miles. Little did I know that it's 0.2 miles on a path that basically goes straight up the side of a sheer rock face. And I still managed to get lost. Sigh. There really is no winning.

But I did manage to get there eventually, dripping with sweat (humidity plus out-of-shapeness plus oh yeah literally rock-climbing to the museum), and I got to use the one phrase that I always have dreamed of using: "I'm with the musicians."

The path goes straight up the hill behind this building. No stairs. Just a 50-degree incline
and a landing that reeks eternally of weed and sad glutes.

I *may or may not* have begged a professor of mine for a ticket to this concert, in which he was playing recorder, lute, guitar, cittern and percussion (a motley array of instruments, more on that later). I have a bone to pick with the Met museums: their concerts don't offer student ticket pricing, and are often prohibitively expensive, to the tune of $70+ per ticket for the most desirable concerts. I understand that they have to turn a profit, I really do. But they have ticket sales to profit from. The New York Phil offers student tickets, and they turn a profit. What gives?

Anyway, I was offered a comp ticket on the condition that I sell CD's before and after the concert. Troubles with the Square card reader notwithstanding, I had lots of fun trying to come up with one sentence to explain what was on each CD. Sonnambula's album was relatively easy to explain: consort music by Leonora Duarte (mid 1600s Flemish) and her contemporaries. The Piffaro album, which had everything from Obrecht to Lassus to Praetorius to Bach, that was a little bit harder; I ended up settling for "everything before Bach" (conveniently, the album is called "Before Bach").

I slinked into my chair approximately 30 seconds before the show was to start; I barely had time to look at the program before the ensembles paraded onstage, bowed, and proceeded to play their first selection: a bransle (if you see a word you don't know in this post, chances are it's a French dance) for recorders, guitars, and....bagpipes?

I never thought I'd say this, but the bagpipes were nice.

The general format of the concert was grouped into different dance forms: the winds (Piffaro) would play a dance, then the strings (Sonnambula) would play a similar dance, then they'd all do it together. The contrast was always stark, but never jarring; the groups were acutely aware of each others' musical decisions and played off of each other like they had been doing it forever.

Of particular note was the set of volte that finished the concert, starting with a William Byrd arrangement from the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book as expertly interpreted by harpsichordist James Kennerly, which Sonnambula spryly repeated with gusto and joie de vivre. I had to leave (to reset the CD table) before the encore, but rest assured there was an encore, and it's currently stuck in my head even though I haven't the foggiest idea what it is.

There is no question that Sonnambula is a fabulous ensemble comprised of some of the best historically-informed string players (and one harpsichordist) in the NYC area. You will, without fail, have a lovely concert experience with them. Piffaro, though, is the real pièce de résistance of the concert. Each member of Piffaro played no fewer than four instruments, ranging from recorders of all sizes to krummhorns and dulcians and percussions and guitars and...the list goes on. Piffaro's concerts not only exhibit the highest level of musicianship -- the sackbut players played their instruments better than most of the trombone playing I've heard in my life -- but each concert is also an educational event. Co-director Bob Wiemken gives a humorous, yet thorough description of the millions of instruments that the group plays, rendering the concert appropriate for all ages.

The view on the way out of the park -- I tried to take it where the car was out

of the frame but....just kidding, I didn't even try to get the car out because I am LAZY

As I left, I decided I would try my hand at getting back to the 190th Street A train stop. I was treated to the most gorgeous view -- I think Fort Tryon Park may be the most beautiful spot in Manhattan. And what's more, I didn't even get lost. Are you proud of me?

[3] New York Philharmonic plays Brahms, Mozart, and Corigliano at David Geffen Hall | #1Summer50Concerts

WHO: New York Philharmonic; Jaap van Zweden, conductor; David Fray, piano
WHAT: BRAHMS Tragic Overture; MOZART Piano Concerto No. 24; CORIGLIANO Symphony No. 1
WHERE: David Geffen Hall
WHEN: May 30, 2019, 7:30pm

I've been known in the past to give tepid, if not negative reviews of the NY Philharmonic in the past. I saw them a couple times in their last season with Alan Gilbert, and their affect often seemed listless at best. It seemed like a group of accomplished soloists each playing without much regard for what the rest of the orchestra was doing.

I'm glad to say that era is on its way out. Jaap van Zweden, the notoriously fierce Dutch conductor who took over as the Phil's music director this year, is fixing them. The orchestra will almost certainly be back to its Bernstein-era glory in a few years.

Still, though, the Phil is in an intermediate period. There are moments where everything clicks and they sound like the most expressive, polished orchestra on this side of the Atlantic. One of those moments was at the beginning of the Brahms's Tragic Overture, which started this concert. Quite frankly, I find the piece to be very take-it-or-leave-it. Is it better than I could have written? Absolutely. Is it Brahms's magnum opus? Nowhere near. But the Phil brought certain moments to life -- the opening (and the recap) sounded almost like a period ensemble, with hard-sticked timpani and vibrato-less strings, a timbre that van Zweden clearly thought out well. The rest? It was fine.

I suppose I should mention the caveat that I had a TERRIBLE seat for the first half of the concert. The box office refused to sell me a student-priced ticket (even though there were empty seats everywhere?????), so I was stuck with the only other seat that was in my budget: top floor, side boxes, partial view. And it was still twice as expensive. UGH. I moved to a top-floor front-facing seat for the Corigliano (and thank god I did -- that partial view would have blocked out the mandolinists!).

To give you an idea of where I was sitting...Fray, van Zweden, and the orchestra

Both of Mozart soloist David Fray's last two albums have been Bach interpretations -- his concerti for multiple keyboards in 2018 followed by his sonatas with star French violinist Renaud Capuçon. I've like his Bach (much as I usually prefer my Bach on harpsichord), so I was interested to hear his Mozart. His Mozart (the 24th piano concerto) struck me as a little far removed from his Bach; his use of pedal was a little more liberal than I would have liked, though not totally outlandish. That being said, his slow movement was incredible: heartfelt, musical, and not too soupy. Special mention to the wind section Phil for that same slow movement.

I was proven wrong. But I still don't think the mandolins were *totally* necessary.

I really didn't want to like the Corigliano. At first glance, the orchestra seemed too big, almost big for the sake of being big. But John Corigliano himself came onstage and gave some verbal program notes, on the verge of tears as he remembered the people this piece eulogizes, friends of his who died in the AIDS epidemic. Once the piece started, I understood why that orchestra was so huge. Corigliano accurately encompasses so many emotions in this piece -- terror, sadness, wistfulness, nostalgia -- that even the most emotionless of listeners is moved.

The highlight of the piece was the opening of the third movement, in which principal cellist Carter Brey delivered a solo (in commemoration of a cellist friend) that was not only polished, but also so deeply felt that a cavern opened up in my stomach and I was fighting back tears. Overall, a tremendous performance.

If you get a chance to see the NY Phil, certainly do it. While they are not necessarily the best orchestra in NYC (that honor goes to the MET Orchestra), they are definitely worth a visit, even in their acoustically dead hall. But, more importantly, if you get a chance to see John Corigliano's Symphony No. 1, jump at it. I hear the Chelsea Symphony is doing it at the end of this month (June 29-30), who's going with me?