Donizetti and Desperation: Some Tracks From This Week | Pandemic Musings

Remember that time I whined about being in "day umpteen" of quarantine on, like, day 10? Ha. Haha. HAHAHAHA.

Apparently I've been busy, because I haven't written for almost a month. But of course I've still been listening to lots of music -- what else am I going to do while I cook meals for five and then eat the entire pot in one night?

Side note: any of you ever make a whole loaf of bread and then finish it in 24 hours? I'm down to a heel of the focaccia I made yesterday. Note to self: solo quarantine is terrible for the waistline.

Anyway, here are a few memorable bits of music from the past couple weeks.

David Lang: "penance and remorse" from the little match girl passion

Theatre of Voices; Paul Hillier, conductor

A few nights ago, in some sort of tired, cranky, stir-crazy fever dream, I seriously considered mounting this piece as the capstone to my music degree. The next morning, I woke up and decided that maybe post-midnight quarantine Emery shouldn't be calling the shots.

Dieterich Buxtehude: O clemens, o mitis, o coelestis pater

Julie Roset, soprano; Ensemble Clematis

According to Julie Roset's Facebook fanpage, she got her bachelor's in 2019 -- and in Europe, bachelor's degrees are three years. So basically, she's a year older than I am. Her first solo album dropped, like, a week ago. What have I done with my life? (I should mention that the first phrase of this Buxtehude was so perfect that I forgot about the dish I was washing and spent the next fifteen minutes sweeping ceramic shards from my kitchen floor...maybe that says more about me than about Julie Roset though?)

Meredith Monk: "Wa-Lie-Oh" from Songs from the Hill

Marc Mauillon, baritone

An album to be experienced, not to be talked about.

Richard Strauss: the last five minutes of Ein Heldenleben

Gothenburg Symphony; Kent Nagano, conductor

I'm never in the mood to listen to Strauss. Except yesterday, I was. Brought me right back to Disney Hall, watching an aging, but ever lively Zubin Mehta conduct Heldenleben with the LA Phil on the weekend of my 18th birthday. I've said it once and I'll say it again: thank god for the $10 student ticket.

Marin Marais: "La Polonoise" from Suite in d minor (Second Book of Pieces for Viol)

François Joubert-Caillet; L'Achéron

I watched this one video ~20 times the other day. My findings: harp is just so totally the best continuo instrument. Plus, how cool is that 10th century church they're recording in?

Gaetano Donizetti: "Chacun le sait" from La fille du régiment

Erin Morley, soprano and piano; from the Metropolitan Opera's livestreamed gala

I go on a lot of walks in the only New Haven neighborhood with living rooms that big, I wonder if I've walked by Erin Morley's house? (also, what a performance holy crap) (also also, bel canto usually gives me hives but for some reason yesterday I only wanted to listen to music I don't usually like? I think quarantine broke me)

Anaïs Mitchell: Way Down Hadestown

From the original 2010 concept album

There's something so comforting about this original version -- no pomp, no circumstance, no huge swing-band dance number. With the call-and-response, it's almost campfire-y in a way. Intimate, muted, warm, fuzzy.

My first day at Kinhaven, circa 2010

Thomas Ford: Since First I Saw Your Face

Kinhaven Virtual Choir

Virtual madrigals were exactly what my aching heart needed this week. Look hard, you might see some familiar faces. (video here)

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.

[49] Faculty Concert at Chamber Music Conference of the East, Bennington, VT | #1Summer50Concerts #ConcertGetaway

WHO: Faculty of Chamber Music Conference of the East
WHAT: SCOTT WHEELER Piano Trio No. 2 "Camera Dances"; HINDEMITH Kleine Kammermusik, Op. 24 No. 2; BRAHMS Piano Quintet, Op. 34
WHERE: Greenwall Auditorium, Bennington College, Bennington, VT
WHEN: August 3, 2019 at 8:00pm

An abridged list of things I did during my week at Bennington:

• Play the Beethoven "Ghost" trio
• Play Shostakovich's 7th string quartet
• Play a Beethoven quartet (Op. 18 No. 6, for those who are counting)
• Play a Mendelssohn quartet (Op. 12)
• Explain to my friends approximately 47 times that yes, I go to a music camp that requires me to learn four full pieces in one week, and yes, this is my idea of fun
• Get called a masochist approximately 47 times
• Have a conversation with the Bennington College music librarian that ended with, "I'm so glad that score of Schoenberg's Book of the Hanging Gardens (which was on sale for $2 at the annual music sale) is going to a good home." Why yes, I'll feed it and water it and turn it towards the sunlight, just like I do with the rest of my....scores?
• Read Shostakovich's second piano trio (read: really really hard) with one of those pianists who is like "oh yeah, I'm just sightreading" and then proceeds to nail 90% of the notes at full tempo. She may be reading this. She knows who she is.
• Eat lots of dining hall food, reminding me that yes, I am happy to have a kitchen this upcoming year
• Pitch the #1Summer50Concerts project approximately 47 times
• Explain approximately 47 times that yes, I went to 50 concerts and yes, I enjoyed myself
• Get called a masochist approximately 47 times
• Blog while sitting on a bench that overlooks miles and miles of open field (with a little path weed-whacked into it so people can go on walks through the waist-high grass) while listening to Alexandre Tharaud's recordings of the last three Beethoven piano sonatas (would recommend)
• Explore said open field, for shits and giggles
• Come across a mystical forest path that looked something like this:

• Enter the forest path
• Come out the other side to this view:

• Scare a mama deer a little further down the path
• Stargaze
• Obsess over shoes and Bruno Helstroffer (the world's sexiest lute player) with a group of snarky childless 40-somethings
• Sweat. A lot. The music building wasn't air conditioned.

An unabridged list of things I did not do during my week at Bennington:

• Sleep

[44] Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra plays Beethoven at David Geffen Hall | #1Summer50Concerts

WHO: Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra; Andrew Manze, conductor; Vilde Frang, violin
WHAT: BEETHOVEN Violin Concerto; Symphony No. 3, "Eroica"
WHERE: David Geffen Hall
WHEN: July 23, 2019 at 7:30pm

Not gonna lie, I've been a scaredy cat this summer. I chickened out of talking to Caroline Shaw. I haven't gone up to talk to any artists after concerts unless I know them.

Well, I decided that was going to change a couple weeks ago. After this concert, I spotted someone with a violin a couple feet ahead of me. The strange thing was that she wasn't in concert black, even though the concert had ended not five minutes before.

And then I looked at her hair and had a light-bulb moment. I turned to my friend and said, "I recognize those beautiful blonde highlights."

It was Vilde Frang, walking back to the subway. As one does when in New York.

Yeah, I accosted Vilde Frang on the street to tell her what a great performance she gave. We talked for all of 30 seconds. I found out that the cello is her favorite instrument (not that I asked that specifically -- what am I, a middle schooler at an open rehearsal Q&A session?). It was moderately awkward. She seemed flattered. I would have been intimidated, butt then again, a chubby 20-year-old outwardly gay concertgoer with two days' worth of five o'clock shadow isn't exactly something to be scared of.

But of course, I didn't tell her I was reviewing the performance. Maybe should would have been a little more intimidated by me then.

Me at, like, every single concert so far this summer

Everything I said to her was well-deserved. Her performance was one that satisfied my inner musician. She didn't show off; it felt like her mission was to deliver the most honest, enjoyable interpretation she could muster. Vilde Frang served the music, which is something that so few of the big popular soloists do effectively. During the orchestral interludes, she seemed to get lost in the texture, staring off into the distance, making way for her colleagues -- she treated the orchestra as equals, not inferiors -- to work their magic. Her playing was aggressively precise, but didn't sacrifice any of that introspective simplicity that I crave from middle Beethoven.

I walked out of the first half of the concert convinced that the Beethoven violin concerto was the best piece ever written. I kind of get that way every time I hear the Beethoven concerto. I'm not sure if that opinion is defensible, or even if I believe it. But you know, even if I don't truly believe it, I'd be happy to defend that opinion any day.

In my first post of the summer, when I went to see the S.E.M. ensemble, I mentioned that I turned down an opportunity to see the NY Phil playing Beethoven's Third™ because I knew I'd get to see it again in the near future. The fact that, not even two months later, a different orchestra is playing the same piece in the same hall should validate my decision.

That said, I'm pretty sure the MMFO did a better job than the NY Phil would have. I mean, the orchestra gets together every year to play *mostly* Mozart (oh, that's why they call it that!), so it felt like they were in a more appropriate mindset for that late-classical style. The word that Andrew Manze's interpretation drew to mind was light -- even in the loudest climaxes, there was still a wind blowing the orchestra from underneath, keeping them bobbing along to the sometimes-rollicking, sometimes-sagging beat. Special mention should go to the first oboist of the orchestra, Katherine Needleman, whose solos contributed to the levity from atop the orchestral texture. All of her solos, whether twenty measures or two, made me feel that amazing shiver up my spine.

God, I'm so glad I went. And now I've proven to myself that I have the balls to approach performers after concerts. Now, I try to rationalize it by assuming that people like to hear how great they are. But is that actually true? Do performers actually like being approached by strangers?

I don't know, maybe my *good friend* Vilde Frang will be able to answer that!

[41] Teatro Nuovo presents Rossini's "La gazza ladra" at the Rose Theater @ Jazz at Lincoln Center | #1Summer50Concerts

Hannah Ludwig welcoming the audience as Pippo (PC: Steven Pisano)

WHO: Soloists, Chorus, and Orchestra of Teatro Nuovo; Rachelle Jonck, maestro al cembalo; Jakob Lehmann, primo violino e capo d'orchestra
WHAT: ROSSINI La gazza ladra
WHERE: Rose Theater @ Jazz at Lincoln Center
WHEN: July 18, 2019 at 7:30pm

Concert #41: In Which I See a Three-And-A-Half-Hour Opera That Usually Gets Cut Down to Two Hours for a Reason

Don't get me wrong, I'm not faulting Teatro Nuovo for this. I totally understand wanting to play every note that the composer wrote.

But Rossini wrote this opera for a different audience. Back in the early 1800s, the opera was as much a place for social hour as it was a place for musical edification. The 20-minute scenes sung by the protagonist's first cousin's husband's servant were the perfect opportunity for Signore and Signora Garganelli to go over and play cards with their aristocratic friends.

But it's the 21st century. Friends are obsolete. Our phones are the new "friends."

Okay, maybe that's kind of a dystopian read on things. But Wagner invented this idea that music should be all-consuming and everyone should be quiet and do nothing but listen. And now we just sit and listen and roll our eyes at people who cough (don't lie, I do it too -- concert halls literally provide free cough drops, but you can't be bothered to pick a few up before the performance?).

Anyway, this is all a long-winded way of saying that I understand why The Met cuts Gazza ladra to two hours. But I'm glad I got to see the whole thing -- again with that reproducibility factor!

You've definitely at least heard the overture to La gazza ladra ("The Thieving Magpie"). It's a favorite among film producers, most notably used in A Clockwork Orange. Couldn't tell you where in the movie -- I don't do psycho-crime movies.

ANYWAY, now that my anti-establishment cynicism is out of the way, I really really enjoyed Teatro Nuovo's performance. The orchestra sounded as great as ever, and I think they saved their real A-cast for this performance. The acting was more acute, though that could possibly be because the staging was slightly more...well, staged. There was a long table in the middle of the stage that at least gave the performers something to work with.

The many faces of Hans Tashjian (PC: Steven Pisano)

The highlight of the performance was mezzo Hannah Ludwig as Pippo, the cheeky trouser-role servant who eventually exonerates the protagonist from her execution (have I mentioned that Italian tragedies are indistinguishable from Italian comedies until the last ten minutes?). Not only did she sing beautifully, but she sparkled in the role, at once naive and all-knowing. Bass Erik van Heyningen's constantly-concerned portrayal of the defected soldier Fernando Villabella was poignant, coupled with a sweetly roaring bass. Hans Tashjian, the main villain, brought an intentional apathy to his character, reinforcing his nuanced vocal technique with an impressive repertoire of cunning smirks, each distinct from the last. And of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the sorrowful song of the protagonist herself, Alisa Jordheim as the condemned (then not) Ninetta.

To the uncredited chorus member who played the magpie: the feather-boa-plus-tuxedo look is a keeper. He managed to be the funniest character, even though he only sang two solo lines -- the way he raced around the stage had a Road Runner-esque flair.

The orchestra, as usual, sounded great; a few of them even joined in on some of the buffo fun, the principal flautist and oboist each in their own little solo world until the oboist "realized" that everyone was concentrating on the flute player's thirty-second notes instead of her quarter notes.

So yes, I sat through three and a half hours of opera on this one Thursday night. But I don't have a single regret. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: reproducibility factor never steers me wrong!

[40] Teatro Nuovo presents Bellini's "La straniera" at Rose Theater @ Jazz at Lincoln Center | #1Summer50Concerts

PC: Steven Pisano

WHO: Soloists, Chorus, and Orchestra of Teatro Nuovo; Will Crutchfield, maestro al cembalo; Jakob Lehmann, primo violino e capo d'orchestra
WHAT: BELLINI La straniera
WHERE: Rose Theater @ Jazz at Lincoln Center
WHEN: July 17, 2019 at 7:30pm

I open my computer. My stomach is in knots. The clock is counting down. Sweat pours down my face. I begin to hyperventilate. The stress is killing me. My hand, shaking violently, reaches for the mouse.

Yeah, that's what happened last time I had to choose between two concerts I really wanted to go see. Sometimes I think I'm too invested, y'know?

Anyway, I know I said at the beginning of the summer that I was choosing concerts based on what thought I would like most. Unfortunately, I like a lot of things, and sometimes I can't choose. So I've had to rely on another metric for deciding on concerts: the reproducibility factor. I always take into account the likelihood of getting to see a given concert (or one similar) at some point in the future. That's why I decided to go see the SEM Ensemble instead of Beethoven's Eroica at the NY Phil for the first concert in this series; why I went to go see ChamberQUEER instead of Boston Early Music Festival at Caramoor; why (in part) I decided to go see Vivica Genaux instead of going to NYC Pride.

So, when Teatro Nuovo's staged operas rolled around, I cleared my schedule, put on a tie, and walked up the five flights of stairs to the Jazz at Lincoln Center lobby.

Okay no, not really. I took the elevator. But the necktie part is real.

The formal-clad choir (PC: Steven Pisano)

Bellini's La straniera ("The Stranger") barely ever gets performed, falling at the feet of his more famous Norma, Puritani, and Sonnambula. The plot, as with many bel canto operas, is predicated upon a misunderstood love triangle -- Arturo loves Alaïde (the straniera in question), but thinks she is having an affair with Valdeburgo. Arturo tries to kill Valdeburgo until the "oh shit!" moment when he realizes that Valdeburgo is Alaïde's brother. Valdeburgo survives the attempt, Alaïde is dragged off for the murder, Arturo is urged to marry the woman he was originally planning to marry before any of this started (her name is Isoletta, she's only mildly relevant).

Except then it turns out that Alaïde is actually queen of France. So when Arturo botches his own wedding to beg Alaïde to run off with him, she is summoned back to the throne. Arturo is understandably sad. He kills himself. Alaïde is also sad. She threatens to kill herself. Curtain.

Ah yes, the Italian tragedy: only distinguishable from the Italian comedy in that, at the end, everyone dies instead of marrying each other.

So, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say something. I think comparing the Teatro Nuovo orchestra and choir is unfair. The singers are part of a young artists' program, still gaining valuable experience in the operatic field. The orchestra is the usual circuit of period-performance freelancers, many of whom I've already seen elsewhere this summer. So here are their separate reviews:

THE SINGERS: Great voices up on that stage. Tenor Derrek Stark was a poignant and relatable Arturo; soprano Christine Lyons's arias brought Alaïde's alienation to the forefront; baritone Steven LaBrie's Valdeburgo was rich and sweet, but not overly covered; mezzo Alina Tamborini rocked a confused Isoletta. But, for the great singing tone, the acting was somewhat anemic. Perhaps if there had been more staging to work off of, it would have been better, but the body movements were muted and awkward, the facial expressions barely expressive at all. Only LaBrie seemed to occupy the full character of his role. The chorus, made up of the rest of the young artists in the program, sounded as good as any professional opera chorus, their Italian perfect even in those infamous tongue-twister passages.

LaBrie as Valdeburgo (PC: Steven Pisano)

THE ORCHESTRA: Teatro Nuovo has a 60-piece orchestra that functions as a chamber ensemble. The concertmaster, sitting on the podium at the front, shares conducting responsibility with the maestro, sitting at a keyboard instrument (a late-model fortepiano, in this case) in the middle of the orchestra. The configuration of the orchestra is strange, to say the least -- the violins face each other (firsts facing the stage, seconds with their backs to the singers), the winds sit in an octet in the middle, the basses are split on either side of the ensemble. It made for an interesting sound, from the audience's perspective. The first violins and wind soloists are the center of attention in a bel canto orchestra, and they came through loud and clear. I'm not going to pretend that the modern configuration, with a real conductor serving solely as a musical interpreter and everyone facing the same way, isn't an innovation -- there's a reason the MET orchestra doesn't sit like Teatro Nuovo. But the orchestra's seating didn't seem to affect their accuracy and poise; they were fantastic in every sense of the word. I buy the configuration both as a musical and intellectual exercise. Special nod to harpist Parker Ramsay, who sat onstage to accompany two arias with very, VERY prominent parts.

Overall, an enjoyable evening. The entire concept had a novel sparkle to it, enough to offset any blandness in the acting. I was entirely satisfied -- the reproducibility factor seldom steers me wrong.

[39] George Li plays Beethoven and Schumann at Merkin Hall | #1Summer50Concerts

WHO: George Li, piano
WHAT: BEETHOVEN 32 Variations in C minor, WoO 80; Andante Favori in F major, WoO 57; Sonata in C major, Op. 53 "Waldstein"; SCHUMANN "Vogel als Prophet" from Waldszenen, Op. 82; Carnaval, Op. 9
WHERE: Merkin Hall at the Kaufman Center
WHEN: July 16, 2019 at 8:00pm

This International Keyboard Institute and Festival (IKIF) is stuck between a rock and a hard place, programming-wise. On the one hand, it seems like they want to program interesting things -- some pianists come in with interesting pastiche recital ideas. But in their two weeks of twice-daily concerts, there was an overwhelming amount of music by pianists, for pianists (yeah, Liszt, I'm looking at you). Just like, an overwhelming amount of pretty good soloists playing Beethoven after Schumann after Brahms -- all composers I like very much, but like...what else is new guys?

So I decided I'd only go to one of the concerts, and this is the one I chose. I chose it because I like Beethoven and I like Schumann and I've heard George Li is good. Sound logic, if you ask me. And I think I chose the right concert, music-wise.

George Li is one of these people who went out and won all the big competitions when he was a teenager so by the time he finished his undergrad (at the Harvard-New England Conservatory exchange program) his career was already made. Sigh. If only...

He played well, for the most part. His Beethoven, while nice, was not necessarily to my taste. The interpretations seemed overly cerebral -- he thought very hard about the placement of each note in time and space. The result was playing that felt wordy, for lack of a better descriptor. Each note felt like it was meant to evoke a very specific descriptor: this note was joyful, that one was anguished. I think that particular aspect cost him a sense of big-picture scope that would have helped tremendously.

Li's Schumann, though, was something to write home about. Once he had a concrete picture as a goal for his interpretation, his musicality snapped right into place. His Carnaval was stunning, his "Eusebius" movement especially tender. But the only thing better than Carnaval were the five minutes of Waldszenen that preceded it. Mystic and exotic, the seemingly aimless movement ambled with futility-laden intent.

The best pianists know how to handle adversity (aka upright pianos)

I closed my eyes to listen to that movement of the Waldszenen. And just when I did, a phone went off. And then another. And then a third one. All told, five phones went off during those four minutes.

Yeah, let's talk for a second about the audience. The read I got was that it was mostly teenage IKIF attendees and their tiger parents. The woman sitting next to my date was on her phone the entire concert. Someone made a whisper before one of the pieces and no fewer than three people loudly shushed them (if you shush loudly, you're part of the problem). And worst of all -- George Li, the poor kid, obviously tired from a full recital and his first encore (Liszt's transcription of Schumann's Widmung), was forced to pull out the Liszt Campanella. The audience oohed and aahed. Behind Li's saccharine façade, you could see the same eyeroll that my date and I gave each other at Campanella's opening octave D#'s. For Christ's sake, let George Li do a Philip Glass concert or something. He's obviously bored.

TL;DR George Li gets a solid A. The audience gets a quadruple F-.

[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!

[29] Teatro Nuovo performs Donizetti and Rossini at Church of the Heavenly Rest | #1Summer50Concerts

That's an ophicleide, the love-child between a tuba and a bassoon, but cooler (PC: Gregory D'Agostino)

WHO: Teatro Nuovo soloists, chorus, and orchestra
WHAT: DONIZETTI Symphony in E minor; ROSSINI Stabat mater
WHERE: Church of the Heavenly Rest
WHEN: June 27, 2019 at 8:00pm

I always feel a little bit mean when I review young artist programs. Like, I'm not currently a powerful reviewer by any stretch of the imagination, but what if a review of mine goes viral and ruins someone's career? I don't know. I could discuss the what-ifs of music criticism all day. But we just have to keep in mind what the wise Ratatouille character Anton Ego once said: "The bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is more meaningful than our criticism designating it so."

Now that I'm done being angsty and self-deprecating, I should say that I loved this performance. The young artists were great. No one's career is getting ruined tonight.
Everyone loves to perform German early romantic music as it might have sounded in Beethoven or Schubert's day. There are some fabulous period Beethoven recordings out there -- my go-to is the fiery symphony-and-overture cycle from Anima Eterna Brugge. But no one considers the historical sound of their counterparts down in southern Europe; Rossini's Barber of Seville premiered in the same year as Beethoven's seventh symphony! Perhaps it's that whole opera aesthetic -- howling is howling!

Listen to the beginning of Coriolan. Your soul will be seared.

Anyway, Will Crutchfield's Teatro Nuovo performs bel canto opera as it might have been at the time. Usually that means no conductor -- more on that when I go to see the fully staged operas. But this time, they were seated as an orchestra usually sits (except the bassists were divided, two on each side), conductor in front, just like usual.

The orchestra, made up of NYC's finest period-performance freelancers (i.e. all the same ones that played on all the other period performance concerts), started with a Crutchfield-led performance of a Donizetti symphony, one that hadn't seen the light of day since the bel canto-ist's heyday. The orchestra clearly had a lot of technical talent, but it was clear their opinion of the piece was similar to mine: perhaps it should be re-buried.

But the orchestra perked up for the Rossini Stabat mater, because everyone likes that piece. It's kind of like if Rossini wrote an opera in Latin. Is it the most pious work? Hell no. Did Rossini go to hell for setting a series of corny cabalettas to biblical text? Probably. But is it kind of fun? Yeah.

At the helm for the Rossini was Jakob Lehmann, who has regularly played with and conducted Anima Eterna Brugge in similar repertoire. His gesture was clear, his interpretation vibrant; he elicited something different out of the orchestra (or maybe that was Rossini, who knows?). The chorus ranks were filled with the Teatro Nuovo students, each of whom is an opera singer. The sound, while somewhat wobbly and unblended, felt authentic to the 19th-century Italian opera chorus that probably premiered the piece.

Lehmann staring daggers at the violin section (PC: Gregory D'Agostino)

Of the soloists, tenor Derrek Stark stood out with his "Cujus animam gementem" -- the frequent octave-plus leaps sounded like no skin off of his back. The next movement's duo was equally memorable, with cheery soprano Christine Lyons and mezzo-soprano profundo Hannah Ludwig blending their vibrato perfectly. Ludwig, unlike most mezzos I've seen, took her cadenza to the lowest part of her voice instead of the highest part; she convincingly hit a note low enough that mezzos don't usually sing it.

Teatro Nuovo is an incredible project, and they execute their mission flawlessly. I know this is short notice, but if you can you should go see Teatro Nuovo, this Wednesday and Thursday, doing Bellini's La straniera and Rossini's La gazza ladra, respectively. I know I'm going to be there.

[18] The MET Orchestra and Elīna Garanča perform Mahler and Bruckner at Carnegie Hall | #1Summer50Concerts

                                           

Look at that SMILE!

WHO: The MET Orchestra; Yannick Nézet-Séguin, conductor; Elīna Garanča, mezzo-soprano
WHAT: MAHLER Rückert-Lieder; BRUCKNER Symphony No. 7
WHERE: Carnegie Hall
WHEN: June 14, 2019, 8:00pm

I'm pretty much convinced that Yannick Nézet-Séguin is the perfect human being.

His conducting is fabulous. He is the principal conductor of three orchestras (MET, Philadelphia, and Orchestre Métropolitain de Montréal) and everyone in each of those orchestras loves him. He is always smiling. He can light up a room the size of Carnegie Hall. And my friends who have met him have assured me that he's just as nice in person. Even his bald spot is perfectly round.

Yeah, he's kind of my celebrity crush. Don't tell him, though.

I have this weird thing where I love going to see Mahler symphonies live, but I can't bring myself to listen to them in my free time. I'm not exactly sure why -- I obviously like them at least some, but for some reason my idea of "fun listening" (especially background listening) isn't an hour of hyper-dramatic maximalist symphony.

Mahler's song cycles, on the other hand, are far more reserved. Mahler had to tame his bombastic tendencies to fit a whole orchestra underneath a vocal soloist, and it shows. Some of the song cycles have a theme -- for instance, the Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the Death of Children -- super uplifting) -- but others are simply themed with a poet. These five songs, to texts by Friedrich Rückert, fall staunchly in the latter category, and I think they're my favorite thing that Mahler ever wrote. Vivid orchestral color, tear-jerking melodies, equal opportunity for heart-rending theatricism and musical bravura.

So, what do you get when you combine a perfect conductor, a perfect mezzo-soprano, a perfect orchestra, and a perfect piece?

Yup, this performance was damn near perfect. Garanča's tone was always enough to fill the hall, even in the rare moment when she traded her full splendor for a more impish affect. The MET Orchestra sounded like a multi-headed beast, so perfectly attuned to one another that it almost felt like the musicians were being operated by a switchboard backstage -- of course, the musicality remained uncompromised. And Yannick....well, he was perfect.

All was perfect until that moment of silence after the last chord of the piece petered out -- probably my favorite part of the entire song cycle -- when some asshole in the audience shouted "BRAVA!!!!" before Yannick even had a chance to put his arms down. If you're that guy, and you're reading this, then fuck you. Full stop.

Much in the same way that I never listen to Mahler symphonies in my free time, I had never listened to a full Bruckner symphony before this concert. I'd been told that it was like Mahler, but boring -- not my style. But I was pleasantly surprised, not only by the piece, but by how the MET Orchestra worked their magic (I feel like that's a theme, maybe it shouldn't surprise me anymore).

He's like classical music James Corden!

Mahler's big hallmark is the loud-and-louder concept -- louder than loud is louder, louder than louder is blow-your-brains-out loud, and so on and so forth. Bruckner didn't feel like loud and louder. Bruckner felt like deep and deeper. When Bruckner wanted loud, he added an extra instrument or two in a lower or higher octave, maturing the sound. And the MET orchestra highlighted that perfectly. Every member of that orchestra knew the score perfectly, and when it was their turn to play they slipped into the timbre of the chord seamlessly. In any other orchestra, I'd say that was because they'd played it 40 times before, but Yannick himself said from the stage that it was the first time the orchestra had ever played a Bruckner symphony.

And speaking of Yannick: he was perfect.

So I know I made a little bit of a jab at the MET orchestra in my last post for not having a particularly pride-friendly program for this concert. But you know, with a concert of this quality, I really shouldn't complain. Get excited for next MET season -- the orchestra is going to get its chance to shine in a few of the productions (Wozzeck, Flying Dutchman, Rosenkavalier, Káťa Kabanová), so keep an ear out for them.

[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?