Reviews and Interviews since 2021

Review:  Seattle Opera's “Pagliacci,” with Carlo Montanaro conducting and staging by Dan Wallace Miller. Marion Oliver McCaw Hall, August 2024 (repeated through Aug. 17, 2024; tickets from $35, seattleopera.org).

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

Love, obsession, death, and a lot of great music:  All those staples of opera are on display in Seattle Opera's season-opening production of “Pagliacci.”

“Pagliacci” (“Clowns” in Italian) is so often presented with another short opera in the same tradition, Pietro Mascagni's “Cavalleria Rusticana,” that the double bill is commonly dubbed “Cav/Pag.” (The Metropolitan Opera first presented the two together back in 1893, and the tradition has continued ever since.) Seattle Opera's current production, however, is proof that “Pagliacci” has plenty of punch on its own. This show has such a high level of emotional energy, and such musical impact, that it needs no companion piece. The running time, including intermission, is around 95 minutes: short for an opera evening, but there certainly isn't a dull moment.

The production owes its success to many factors, but among the most important are the eloquent conducting of Carlo Montanaro and the imaginative stage direction of Dan Wallace Miller. Montanaro's pacing gave the singers space where they needed it, but never allowed the energy to flag. Miller somehow wrangled the cast into a complicated set with a huge staircase and not much room to maneuver (designed by Steven C. Kemp), but it all worked splendidly.

Set in 1940s Italy, this production of “Pagliacci” tells the story of a traveling theater troupe that acts out a real-life drama – one that concludes in tragedy. The troupe includes the clowns Canio (Diego Torre), Tonio (Michael Chioldi), and Beppe (John Marzano); Canio's wife Nedda (Monica Conesa), and Nedda's secret lover, a villager named Silvio (Michael J. Hawk). Canio is the troupe's leader; he's a jealous husband, and he suspects that Nedda is unfaithful. His suspicions lead him to erupt into violence during the troupe's performance of a comedy – a comedy about infidelity that hits much too close to home.

Torre's performance as Canio was remarkable for its depth and nuance, as well as its heft and power throughout an imposing upper register. His show-stopping aria, “Vesti la giubba,” is one of the all-time great moments for tenor, and Torre took full advantage of its expressive opportunities. Every syllable was perfectly placed; this is a singer at the top of his game, who knows the score (both literally and figuratively).

Violently jealous, Canio has a wife who provokes that jealousy: the free-spirited Nedda is also desired by two other men, Tonio and Silvio. Conesa, a Cuban-American soprano who makes her U.S. debut in this production, created a vivid impression that fully justified the obsession of all these fellows. Her voice has remarkable presence, with a bright timbre and an easy facility throughout its register. This was her first performance as Nedda, but Conesa already sounds completely at home in the role.

The Seattle Opera chorus, prepared by chorusmaster Michaella Calzaretta, sang exuberantly and expertly.

This “Pagliacci” is another gem in a long string of successes from Seattle Opera general director Christina Scheppelmann, whose pre-performance remarks reminded listeners of her impending departure: at the end of the year, she will move to Brussels, Belgium, as general and artistic director of La Monnaie/De Munt (the national opera of Belgium). She will be greatly missed.

[Melinda Bargreen, a Seattle Times reviewer since 1977, is a composer and author who also writes for several publications. She can be reached at mbargreen@gmail.com.]

Review:  Seattle Opera's 2023-2024 season-opener, "Alcina," opening night

Seattle Opera presents “Alcina,” by George Frideric Handel, with Christine Brandes conducting, and staging by Tim Albery.

What a triumph: Seattle Opera conclusively proved that it can handle Handel, with a superb new staging of the composer's 1735 opera “Alcina.” Rarely do operagoers get to savor this combination of history, novelty, imagination, and musical expertise in one production. Nor do we often get the chance to hear a baroque-era opera conducted with the authority of Christine Brandes, herself a former singer who has sung the role of Morgana in this opera and knows the score down to the last tiny nuance.

“Alcina” (pronounced “al-chee-na”) also a remarkably gender-fluid show: the complicated story features a woman (Bradamante) disguising herself as a man (Ricciardo) to rescue her fiancé on a remote island belonging to the enchantress Alcina. (The role of Bradamante's fiancé, Ruggiero, was composed for a castrato – a surgically altered male singer – and is usually performed by a female mezzo-soprano, but is played in this production by a countertenor, an adult male alto.) This production also changes the gender of Bradamante's male protector, Melisso, to a female mezzo-soprano, renamed Melissa.

Not surprisingly, all sorts of complications arise in the plot, with mistaken identities and disguises and instant attractions. Bradamante (Ginger Costa-Jackson), disguised as her brother Ricciardo, arrives with Melissa (Nina Yoshida Nelsen) on the island to search for Ruggiero, only to discover that Alcina (Vanessa Goikoetxea) has taken Ruggiero (countertenor Randall Scotting) as her lover. Alcina's sister Morgana (Sharleen Joynt) immediately falls in love with “Ricciardo,” dumping her previous lover Oronte (John Marzano). Considerable mayhem ensues. Not until Melissa shows Ruggiero the ring he once gave Bradamante does he realize that he has been deceived. But there's another problem: Alcina has fallen in love with Ruggiero, and she doesn't want him to leave the island.

Confused yet? It works much better on the stage than in the description, even though Hannah Clark's set is as minimalist as it comes: a bare stage with 10 modern chairs sitting at various angles, and a back wall with huge, beautiful projections whose images expand or contract, drawing the audience across the water to a magical island where the jungle scenery advances and recedes as the onstage relationships change. It's a great concept.

Operagoers attend productions for the singing, not the set, and in this cast there are no disappointments. Goikoetxea's performance in the title role was superb; she negotiated the florid vocal lines with amazing finesse. Her voice is both rich and nimble, with powerful high notes that underscore the authority of her character. When she's on the stage, you can't take your eyes off her; whether she is being regal, amorous, or crushed by betrayal, she commands the space as if she really were an enchantress.

Costa-Jackson was a brilliant Bradamante, vocally secure throughout the performance and compelling to watch. The excellent Randall Scotting proved more than equal to the considerable vocal and theatrical requirements of the role of Ruggiero; John Marzano's Oronte, Nina Yoshida Nelsen's Melissa, and Sharleen Joynt's Morgana were first-rate.

The usual joke about staging baroque opera is that the director's instructions simply say, “Stand there and sing.” Not this time. Tim Albery's staging was creative and active, often asking the singers for unusual positioning, and never letting the energy lapse.

Much of the success of this production is owed to Christine Brandes, whose superb musical pacing and balance created an ideal sound world for the singers. There was a sense of surging momentum in the music, as well as a thorough understanding of baroque style, in a performance that never slackened or lost energy. Brandes drew remarkably fine, crisp and clean playing from the orchestra, which included John Lenti (theorbo/baroque guitar) and keyboardist Philip A. Kelsey.

[Melinda Bargreen, a Seattle Times reviewer since 1977, is a composer and author who also writes for several publications. She can be reached at mbargreen@gmail.com.]

Review:  Seattle Symphony Opening Night, Sept. 21, 2023:

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra’s “Raise the Curtain,” opening night concert, with Ludovic Morlot, conductor, and Alexandra LoBianco, soprano soloist; Benaroya Hall, Thursday evening (repeated at 8 p.m. Sept. 23; 206-215-4747, www.seattlesymphony.org, ).

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

The start of a new concert season is always a special occasion. It’s a time to listen up, and to dress up; a time to return from the beaches and hiking trails to the symphony hall and beautiful music.

There was plenty of that last commodity at Thursday’s impressive and entertaining “Raise the Curtain” concert by the Seattle Symphony Orchestra with guest conductor Ludovic Morlot. What was missing was the audience: only 850 were in attendance, about one-third of the hall’s 2,500 seating capacity.

That is both worrying and unfortunate: this season marks not only the 120th year of the Seattle Symphony, but also the 25th anniversary of Benaroya Hall. Those are milestones worth celebrating, and so was Thursday’s concert (repeated Saturday), which revisited two historic occasions in its program lineup. One of these was the Symphony’s first official concert, in December 1903, which had also featured the Massenet “Phèdre” Overture and Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony. The opening of Benaroya Hall in 1998 also had included selections from Wagner’s “Götterdämmerung.”

Soprano Alexandra LoBianco, who has starred at Seattle Opera, and the Symphony’s conductor emeritus, Ludovic Morlot, added some 20th-century history to the musical lineup, which also included Honegger’s 1920 “Pastorale d'Été”. The French-born Morlot led stylish, evocative performances that gave unusual depth and warmth to the Massenet and Honegger works. The Honegger in particular evoked a shimmering, summery atmosphere in which several of the wind instruments take solo turns, all of them beautifully performed here.

It is not every day that you see four harps lined up onstage during a symphony concert, and this happy development was the setup for a suite created by Sir Jeffrey Tate from the “Götterdämmerung” Finale.  LoBianco’s formidable task as soprano soloist was to prevail over the full orchestra situated right alongside her on the stage (harps and all), for a substantial chunk of the last and longest of Wagner’s four “Ring” operas. Would she be audible over the Wagnerian orchestra? Yes, LoBianco did indeed prevail, with a beautifully expressive timbre and a steady strength throughout her extensive register.

It’s a very likeable program, despite the lack of “big name” repertoire, and the orchestra is in excellent form, after undergoing many changes during the Covid pandemic. Several players have left or retired; there are some new and gifted musicians in almost all sections. And judging from the size of the house, several audience members have retired, too -- from concertgoing. This is a worrying development, one that is certainly not unique to the Seattle Symphony.

Let’s hope the Thursday audience turnout was uncharacteristic, because this is an orchestra well worth hearing.

If you missed the opener, there’s plenty more in store at the Symphony, including a Sept. 29 concert with Peter Oundjian guest-conducting the dazzling piano soloist Lang Lang in Saint-Saëns’ Piano Concerto No. 2, plus Respighi’s spectacular “Pines of Rome” (complete with recorded nightingale excerpts). It still may be possible to score tickets (206-215-4747).

Review: Seattle Opera’s “La Traviata,” May 2023

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

When operagoers are very lucky and all the stars align, we get a production like Seattle Opera’s new “La Traviata”: an imaginative, beautifully cast presentation of a great classic. No gimmicks, no distortions, but plenty of fresh ideas and lots of action – stage director Francesca Zambello, always reliably excellent, is in top form here. The pacing never falters, and the big ensemble scenes proceed with vivid energy. 

Conductor Carlo Montanaro makes the musical values paramount, supporting the singers right down to the last sixteenth note in some of the greatest arias and ensembles in the operatic repertoire. His sense of timing is impeccable; he knows down to the millisecond how long to wait for the singer’s breath, for the culmination of the high note, and when to press forward.

And what singers! In the title role (and her Seattle Opera debut), we have Vuvu Mpofu, a young South African soprano whose vocal finesse makes the challenging coloratura arias sound easy and natural. (“La Traviata” means “one who strayed,” and the courtesan Violetta certainly fits that category, though her unselfish generosity and her good heart redeem her.) Mpofu is a compelling actress, conveying both Violetta’s physical fragility and her determination to live life to the fullest. Her voice is resonant and powerful, and was impressively agile as she rose to the final high E-flat in one of the most famously florid arias in the operatic repertoire, “Sempre libera” (“Always free”).

Mpofu’s tender and regretful “Addio, del passato” was heart-wrenching enough to make operagoers reach for their hankies. This is a singer to watch, one who is both well-schooled and vocally thrilling.

As Violetta’s lover, Alfredo, the agile tenor Dominick Chenes is suitably dashing and mercurial, well matched to Mpofu in strength and impetuosity. Their scenes together have real electricity, whether they are courting or fighting – as they do when Alfredo’s father Giorgio (Michael Chioldi, powerful and highly convincing in his aria “Di Provenza”) persuades Violetta to leave Alfredo for the good of his family. (Violetta unselfishly agrees, in order to  avoid a scandal that would ruin the matrimonial chances of Alfredo’s sister.)

Zambello’s staging is creative and sometimes surprising: as the opera opens, Violetta is already hospitalized with the consumption that will eventually kill her, but she rises from her bed to relive the story of her passionate but ill-fated love for Alfredo. Swoosh: there goes the hospital bed, here come the revelers, and we’re swept up into the vibrant, almost frenzied party scene that launches their love affair. Zambello’s adroit deployment of the chorus and the principals here is both imaginative and effective.

A hearty thumbs-up to choreographer Parker Esse and associate choreographer Andrea Beasom, for the fast-paced, action-packed transitions from hospital to festive banquet revelers.

Kudos also to chorusmaster Michaella Calzaretta; the singers are both zesty and accurate. (They’re also extremely nimble.) The delectable period costumes were designed by Jess Goldstein; the effective and atmospheric set designs by Peter J. Davison.

“La Traviata” continues through May 21; it’s a “don’t miss” for fans of this great classic opera.

Interview: Michi Hirata North, 91-year-old concert pianist

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

Playing a piano concerto at age 91, with full orchestra in concert, is a remarkable feat.

Playing two concerti in the same concert . . . well, it’s way past remarkable.

Pianist Michi Hirata North will do just that on April 16, when the local keyboard legend performs Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 27 (K.595) and Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in concert with the Northwest Sinfonietta.

All this takes not only artistry, but considerable stamina for a player of any age. But those who know North are certain she can do it. After all, as a younger pianist she sometimes played three concertos in a single concert. And her repertoire contains no fewer than 43 concertos.

“A few years ago,  in concert, she dashed off the Beethoven ‘Emperor' Concerto and Chopin Concerto No. 1, with the panache of a sword swallower,” says her fellow pianist Dr. Robin McCabe, music professor at the University of Washington.

“And now we will have  a final 'doubleheader' with the Mozart and the finger-blistering Tchaikovsky.  Remarkable virtuosity and the deep humanity of life experience make for a powerful combination. This will be an afternoon to remember, for all." McCabe, who calls North “a dear friend and mentor, and a meaningful presence in my life,” has joined her fellow pianist in rehearsal by playing the keyboard reductions of the orchestra parts to both concerti on North’s second piano.

Bright-eyed, gracious, and full of good humor, North recounted some high and low points of her lengthy career in an interview at her Eastside home. She pointed to her battered, yellowing, weathered musical scores of the Mozart and Tchaikovsky concertos, explaining how she would quickly snatch them up and run for shelter when the World War II air raid sirens sounded in her native Tokyo as the B-29 bombers roared overhead. No wonder these two scores have a special lifelong meaning for her.

She began her piano studies at age four, when she couldn’t reach the pedals, and by age six she was playing her debut concert. At the age of nine, North first performed the Mozart concerto that she’ll play in the April 16 concert. And at 12, in 1945, North performed the Tchaikovsky concerto in a Japanese documentary designed for export to the US. She wore special padding and a steel helmet while walking to the film studio, as protection from the fire-bombing air raids.

Later that year the raids destroyed the film studio and all copies of the film.

During the U.S. postwar occupation, Gen. Douglas MacArthur heard North play, and asked her to perform at his residence and for his official dinners.  When he requested Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue,” she asked, “Who is Gershwin?”  She soon found out, and his music became a staple of her early repertoire. The General Headquarters (GHQ) held a private screening of the “Rhapsody in Blue” movie and got her the musical score.  General MacArthur loved it so much that he asked her to play the “Rhapsody” frequently during the occupation, as well as in the 1947 memorial for the tenth anniversary of composer George Gershwin’s death.

How strange and disorienting it must have seemed, when the teenaged North – who spoke no English, and was sponsored by U.S. General Headquarters – boarded an ocean liner bound for the United States in 1951, eventually arriving at the University of Oklahoma. There she studied English as well as music. It was the start of an educational journey that went on to a full scholarship at the Chicago Musical College (now the Chicago College of Performing Arts), studying with the Swiss-American pianist/conductor Rudolph Ganz, and performing concerts in several states. 

Then North went on to New York. She received a full scholarship at the Juilliard School of Music and studied under the renowned pianist/teacher Rosina Lhévinne, a highly influential mentor whose partisanship could make a student’s career. In that studio, North’s pianist classmates included Van Cliburn, John Browning, and Daniel Pollack. North also was awarded a Rockefeller Grant in recognition of her musical achievements.

“I will never forget my audition for Mme. Lhévinne,” North recalls.

“I had never played an audition before . . . just concerts. I played for her, and then I ran out of the studio, taking deep breaths. Right behind me was Mme. Lhévinne, shouting, ‘I will take you! Come tomorrow morning to my apartment.’ 

“I don’t know how I did it!”

Later, Lhévinne would choose her to assist with teaching private students, and to teach alongside her at the prestigious Aspen Festival. And she gave her approval to North’s “wonderful person,” her husband Dr. Charles Murray North, a young conductor and professor who went on to become dean or chairman of music departments at several prestigious universities. (He passed away in 2010.) 

“You will be a good wife, a good mother, and … you will keep on playing concerts!” Lhévinne declared then. She met Michi’s husband-to-be and gave him her blessing. The young couple would go on to five sons: Michael, Tom, David, Kevin, and Brian.

Michi North served as artist in residence at the Alaska Methodist University, Western Washington University, and the University of Maine.  She then settled in Bellevue, where she taught aspiring pianists, and she and her husband raised five sons. North made regular trips to Taiwan to coach young piano students and train teachers. In her home studio, with two side-by-side concert grand pianos, she still teaches students and coaches professional players. Dr. Shinichi Suzuki in 1993 designated her as a “master teacher” for Japan and the United States.

“I never push students to be professional,” she explains. “Even as a non-professional you want to play well; I shoot for that.”

As the years go by, North is learning how to say no.

“I used to take 45 students,” she recalls. “Now I have nine. And I practice, too: I used to play eight hours a day, then six. Now I play two and a half or three hours, then my back starts to hurt. I take a break and take a walk.

“But I still play. I still love it. It is my life.”

Seattle Opera, “Samson and Delilah in Concert”

Music by Camille Saint-Saëns. Presented by Seattle Opera, starring J’Nai Bridges, Yonghoon Lee and Greer Grimsley, with Ludovic Morlot conducting. [January 2023]

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

When Seattle Opera announced that its “Samson and Delilah” would be performed in concert instead of conventional staging, some opera fans were perplexed. Would it still be opera? 

The answer is a definite “yes,” as audiences for Friday evening’s opening show promptly discovered. 

It was a novel experience to see the orchestra on the stage, located back far enough from the proscenium opening to leave room for the principal singers across the stage front. Behind the orchestra, at the very back of the stage and elevated by risers, was the chorus. It looked a little cramped, and the stage was certainly full, but the concept worked well nonetheless. 

Placing the orchestra on the stage might seem acoustically chancy: wouldn’t the sound overwhelm the singers? But surprisingly, the onstage orchestra did not appear any louder than the normal volume levels from the orchestra pit. 

Concert or no concert, this production offered first-rate singing and acting, imaginative lighting (cheers to Connie Yun, lighting designer), and a streamlined take on a classic. Saint-Saens’ “Samson and Delilah” hasn’t been produced here since 1965, partly because it is difficult and expensive to present. Even for diehard opera purists, this current production is a happy return for an opera of so much musical beauty.

This was not only “still opera”; it was exciting opera, particularly whenever J’nai Bridges (Delilah) was on the stage. The company debut of this Tacoma mezzo-soprano has been eagerly awaited, particularly since the recent news of her second Grammy nomination, and she exceeded all expectations. Bridges’ rich, opulent voice illuminated every line of her role, soaring to the high B-flat of the opera’s most famous aria, “Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix.” Beautiful and regal, she proved an assured actress, convincing both as cynical plotter and as commanding temptress. Bridges was gorgeously attired in spectacular dresses and jewelry (those earrings!) that brought out the opera glasses all over McCaw Hall at a whiplash-inducing speed. 

What a star!

Her Samson, Yonghoon Lee, proved an ardent tenor and an impassioned actor whose slight stature belied his powerful voice. His performance would have been more convincing if he had not required the frequent assistance of a score (placed on a music stand, and occasionally moved around as the staging required) in the second half of the production.

Greer Grimsley, as the High Priest, gave an assured and authoritative performance. Grimsley has been singing major roles in Seattle’s Wagnerian productions ever since 1994, and he retains his well-known power and resonance.

The Seattle Opera Chorus sounded polished, generating plenty of solid and well-tuned choral sound. Kudos to chorusmaster Michaella Calzaretta.

The indispensable center of the production was Ludovic Morlot, the former Seattle Symphony music director and now conductor emeritus. He not only conducted the orchestra upstage, but regularly pivoted to turn downstage, cueing the principal singers when they needed it. Morlot also had to balance the orchestral sound levels -- substantial, but not overwhelming -- with what he was hearing from the principals. It was a heroic job: well done.

 “Tristan and Isolde”: Seattle Opera season-opener, 2022

By Richard Wagner. Through Oct. 29; presented by Seattle Opera, McCaw Hall, 321 Mercer St.; 

5-69; pay-what-you-wish Oct. 21 – suggested amount 5, 5 minimum; masks encouraged; seattleopera.org 

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

Expectations run high when Seattle Opera presents Wagner. Because of the company’s storied history with that composer’s monumental works, operagoers were prepared for great music on opening night of “Tristan and Isolde.”

And indeed, there was superb music from a first-rate cast and orchestra. But what few could have anticipated is how gorgeous this “Tristan” would look – and how the brilliant use of projections on the stage can draw the audience into the inner world of the two protagonists. Wagnerian opera is known for its lengthy dialogues and monologues where not much action takes place. (There’s an old joke about the sole advice of a Wagnerian stage director: “Stand there, and sing.” Not this time!)

Stage director Marcelo Lombardero and set/video designer Diego Siliano have created a game-changing “Tristan” with this remarkable production. Here the characters’ world changes around them, as video projections envelop the stage in constantly shifting locations -- from stormy seas to starlit skies and beautiful forest vistas. At key moments, a platform lift elevates Tristan and Isolde literally into a world of their own, surrounded by vivid swirls of clouds and stars as they hail a “night of love.” It’s breathtakingly lovely; we see the universe literally change around the two singers, as they are enveloped in a different and beautiful reality that reflects what they’re feeling. 

What a boon this development could be, enabling opera companies to change the entire set within seconds to reflect what the singers are feeling and singing. This may well be the most beautiful and effective direction in operatic set design; it will be intriguing to see how this trend develops. Hefty cheers to lighting designer Horacio Efron and video animator Matias Otálora.

Fortunately, the singers and the orchestra, under the direction of conductor Jordan de Souza, also ensure that the musical values are paramount. The orchestral Prelude to Act III was especially fine, with a warm, rich symphonic sound ushering in the tragic finale.

From her first scene to the final “Liebestod” (“love-death”), Mary Elizabeth Williams sang her first Isolde with an authority and brilliance that illuminated one of the most challenging roles in the operatic repertoire. Her voice has the unflagging power and heft for the role, but she also has the subtlety to “dial down” that intensity to convey tenderness and uncertainty. Williams is a compelling actor, whether she is raging against an arranged marriage or ecstatic with love for Tristan. 

Stefan Vinke, a seasoned Wagnerian who made his Seattle debut in the 2013 “Ring,” is an authoritative Tristan; he sang with powerful energy and stamina even in the ultimate challenge of Act III. His final scene, as Tristan subsides in death after recognizing Isolde, was deeply affecting, capped by Williams’ radiant “Liebestod.” 

The supporting cast was remarkably good. Amber Wagner was a first-rate Brangäne, powerful but nuanced; she is a prime mover in the plot for secretly providing Tristan and Isolde with the fateful love potion. The warm-voiced bass Morris Robinson provided a moral compass and suitable gravity as King Marke (whom Isolde was supposed to marry). His dignity and decency underscore the bitterness of their betrayal. And Ryan McKinny’s loyal, resonant Kurwenal was a vital element throughout the production. Viktor Antipenko was effective as the villainous Melot.

The unsung heroes of any Wagnerian opera are the orchestra players, who are grappling with that huge and glorious score for more than four and a half hours. Kudos to them all, particularly to the eloquent English horn of Stefan Farkas, whose solo passages added so much to the atmosphere of longing and heartbreak. 

Not all the audience possessed the stamina of the Wagnerian cast; there was a scattering of empty seats among the house when Act III began. The early departers missed some of the most beautiful and heartrending moments in the production .

REVIEW: SEATTLE SYMPHONY OPENING NIGHT,  2022-23 SEASON

 The Seattle Symphony Opening Night concert, with Ludovic Morlot conducting, and piano soloist Jan Lisiecki; Benaroya Hall, Saturday evening. The concert can be viewed free online, at Seattle Symphony Live (live.seattlesymphony.org), through October 1.

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

Are we there yet? 

It’s almost back to normal at the Seattle Symphony Orchestra[JT1] [MB2] , with a Saturday opening-night concert that nearly felt like the pre-COVID era of yesteryear. It may not exactly be “business as usual” in Benaroya Hall, but we’re getting closer, as the orchestra and the region’s music lovers negotiate the lingering issues of live concerts in our time.

On Saturday evening, a smaller-than-usual Seattle Symphony audience – 1,200 in a hall that accommodates 2,500 – gathered for what proved to be a stellar opening-night concert, with many attendees staying on for an optional/extra post-concert party in the hall’s lobby. (This was quite an improvement over last year’s meager group of 350 concertgoers who were allowed to gather in the hall for the 2021 opening night concert, when COVID restrictions were considerably tighter.)

Advance warnings to patrons (online and by mail) addressed the orchestra’s 2022 public-health concerns clearly: masks were “strongly encouraged” and audience members were required to sign a waiver absolving the Symphony of “the risks associated with contracting an airborne illness at a concert venue.”[JT3] [MB4]  Many in the audience, and some of the orchestra players, nonetheless dispensed with the masks. More cautious or vulnerable music lovers may want to investigate the Symphony’s continuing “Seattle Symphony Live” online presence. The Opening Night concert was livestreamed on Saturday evening, and the program is viewable free on demand for two weeks after the performance.

On the podium for Saturday’s concert was former SSO music director Ludovic Morlot, whose eight seasons here in that role included a substantial representation of new works (and also of French repertoire, a natural fit for the French-born maestro). Recently named the principal conductor of the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra, Morlot was tapped to guest-conduct Saturday’s Seattle opening night after the unexpected resignation in January of SSO music director Thomas Dausgaard. (Morlot will conduct three Seattle programs this season.)

Saturday night’s opener was a world premiere by the orchestra’s 2022-03 artist in residence Angelique Poteat: “Breathe, Come Together, Embrace.” Poteat’s new work in three contiguous sections is extremely accomplished and vividly picturesque, with a wide palette of tonal colors and lots of contrasts -- all artfully unveiled by Morlot and the orchestra in a subtle, vital premiere.

Piano soloist Jan Lisiecki brought a superbly soft touch and clarity to Chopin’s “Andante spianato and Grande polonaise brillante,” with huge dynamic contrasts and a mind-boggling technique that made this challenging showpiece sound easy. Morlot’s careful attention to balances was crucial to the success of the performance.

The big surprise of the evening, though, was the seldom-heard Saint-Saëns “La muse et le poète,” featuring two orchestra principals – concertmaster Noah Geller and cellist Efe Baltacigil – in spectacularly good performances. Geller’s eloquent violin and Baltacigil’s superbly expressive cello were ear-opening reminders of the caliber of talent within the orchestra.

And another such reminder came right afterward, as Morlot led a glistening, supple account of Ravel’s “Daphnis et Chloë” Suite No. 2. This score shows Morlot at his best, with his command of orchestral textures and balances. The orchestra’s Jeffrey Barker dazzled the ear with his exquisite flute solos.  Morlot responded to the final ovation with an encore, Chabrier’s colorful “España.”

With music-making of this quality, and the concert season finally underway again, it’s a great time to be in Seattle.

FOR THE WEBSITE “EarRelevant”:

www.earrelevant.com [Owned and curated by Mark Gresham)

2022

Review: “Choralis Constantinus 1508,” Heinrich Isaac in Konstanz. ensemble cantissimo, directed by Markus Utz (Carus 83.524).

The early Renaissance musician Heinrich Isaac (ca. 1445/50-1517) may well be the most important composer whose name is still relatively little known to many 21st-century music lovers. This remarkable new recording, “Choralis Constantinus,” should go a long way toward bringing the Netherlands-born Isaac’s music to more listeners. The 18 tracks here, superbly sung by “ensemble cantissimo” [the group’s title is rendered in lower case] with period instruments of the Concerto Dell’Ombra, make a strong case for the beauty and merit of Isaac’s oeuvre. Varying in length from about a minute to seven and a half minutes, the works recorded here (both chant and polyphony) for voice and instruments are worthy representatives of the “Choralis Constantinus,” a collection of 375 motets in three volumes representing all Sundays and feast days of the liturgical year. This massive work, commissioned by the chapter of Constance Cathedral, was composed in 1508.

Isaac was a legendary figure in his era: in 1485 Lorenzo di Medici invited him to Florence, where Isaac joined such famous creative Florentines as da Vinci, Botticelli, and Michelangelo. Later, Isaac was appointed court composer by the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian; the Cathedral of Constance commissioned an extensive group of motets celebrating the feasts of the liturgical year. In the ensuing decades, however, the Reformation led to many changes in the liturgical milieu to which Isaac had made such remarkable contributions.

The performances recorded here represent only a fraction of the vast “Choralis Constantinus,” with selections representing four subject areas: “Weihnachten” (Christmas), “Maria” (the Virgin Mary), “Ostern/Himmelfart/Pfingsten” (Easter, Ascension, Pentecost), and “Konradifest” (Feast of St. Conrad). The majority (13) of the 18 tracks are world premiere recordings.

And they are splendid.

Director Markus Utz draws beautiful, nimble, clear singing from the dozen men and women of his ensemble cantissimo (three singers in each category: sopranos, altos, tenors, basses). The singers, drawn from Switzerland and Germany, are nimble, accurate, and lovely to hear; not for them the often-bloodless sounds of “correct” period ensembles, but clear and beautifully characterized vocal lines that make the music arresting and individualized. Utz, a conductor/organist based Zurich University of the Arts and a regular visiting faculty member at Yale University, founded the ensemble cantissimo in 1994 and is in regular demand as teacher/conductor from Hong Kong to Israel.

The singers are featured with four instrumentalists of the Concerto Dell’Ombra: a tenor and a bass trombone, and a soprano and a tenor recorder. The instruments provide enhancement and richer timbres to the vocal lines in some particularly beautiful ways. On Track 10 (“Resurrexi Domini”), for example, the brass instruments overlay the statements from men’s voices for an effect of high seriousness; the clarity of the women’s lines in rising melodic statements is remarkable. The singers are underscored, but never overwhelmed, by winds’ accompaniment. We hear not just a wash of choral sound, but an ensemble in which voices are recognizable and differently inflected, with occasional subtle use of vibrato.  The effect is one of high seriousness, but also of stirring beauty.

Track 8 (“Ave Maria”) opens with two male voices interweaving in and out in an inventive preamble; gradually more voices and instruments are added as the piece grows in complexity. Lines are shaped and inflected, sung lyrically or declaimed; otherworldly lines without vibrato morph into other forms, and then in comes the cornetto. Layer upon layer is added and the full ensemble finally draws to an apparent close – but no, male voices arise again, and the rest of the group enters for a finale.

Throughout the recording, the vocal and instrumental textures are consistently intriguing, and the singing is cleanly beautiful. The men’s and women’s voices rise in what is not just an anonymous wash of choral sound; the voices are recognizable and differently inflected, and some vibrato is employed as an occasional expressive device. And yet the overall feeling of unanimity is preserved.

For those who love Renaissance vocal and instrumental music, this introduction to the Choralis Constantinus will be a most welcome discovery.

Melinda Bargreen

Review:

Gemma New Conducts Sibelius (February 4, 2022)

Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, Gemma New, conductor

SARAH GIBSON: warp & weft

RACHMANINOFF: Vocalise

SIBELIUS: Symphony No. 5

(Available through August 31, 2022)

Miloš Karadaglić Plays Ink Dark Moon (February 4, 2022)

Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, Gemma New, conductor

Miloš Karadaglić, guitar

JOBY TALBOT: Ink Dark Moon

(Available through March 4, 2022)

By Melinda Bargreen 

As the performing-arts world continues to struggle with the restrictions of the Covid pandemic, organizations have become increasingly adept at adaptation. Few have done as well as the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, whose online presentations have pivoted like a ballerina when necessary, providing programming that is consistently innovative and rewarding – even when it’s unexpected.

The current presentation, “Gemma New Conducts Sibelius,” evolved partly from another program presented in Atlanta a season ago; that program was truncated because of some technical/recording issues, in what was then a fledgling enterprise of presenting concerts online. Sarah Gibson’s new “warp & weft” was among the works that were cut then, as was all but the first movement of Mozart’s “Prague” Symphony. Also cut from that earlier program was the planned performance of Joby Talbot’s work for guitar and orchestra, “Ink Dark Moon,” which is now available online for the first time (for only 30 days).

Confused yet? You are not alone. But thankfully, things are different now, and music lovers can hear not only the Gibson “warp & weft” (with works of Sibelius and Rachmaninoff), but also the Talbot “Ink Dark Moon” for guitar and orchestra, in separate online concerts. These are performances well worth hearing, representing not only adventurous and beautiful repertoire, but also the insightful and powerful conducting of Gemma New.

The New Zealand-based New is an increasingly busy podium presence, in Dallas (where her principal guest conductor tenure was recently extended) and at other major orchestras of this country, the U.K., and Europe. In the current Atlanta program, New demonstrates her versatility not only in standard repertoire, but also in her alert and masterly conducting of challenging new pieces. Opening with a murmuring keyboard motif that runs up and down, and unison statements by strings and brass, Gibson’s imaginative “warp & weft” employs a wide range of unusual sounds and cheeky effects (including rustling percussion sounds created by ripping paper – could this possibly represent the destruction of previous drafts, or the shredding of ordinary composition protocols, or just a sound the composer liked?). Clever filming captures players in sectional profile, from almost every angle; we see fingers on keys, and bows attacking the strings so clearly that you’re almost looking for a puff of rosin.

Gibson’s piece employs beautiful textures for piano and winds; repeated figures that layer over each other as if on a weaver’s loom, and a palette of colors that ranges from Impressionist delicacy to the sounding of a final bell. It’s a work that makes you want to hear a second performance.

Rachmaninoff’s “Vocalese” – short, lyrical, slightly melancholy – made a great “palate cleanser” after the Gibson score, and New gave it just the right treatment: songful but not overly sentimental, expressive but not excessive; never wallowing, taking just a little bit of time at the top of the phrase. The camera is everywhere: looking at the double-reed players from the side, and closely observing the fingers of the French hornist on the keys. New’s big, swooping gestures brought her baton high overhead; this was not a minimalist performance. As the final note of “Vocalese” fades away, the video fades to sepia – like an old love letter from the past, or the leaf of an ancient scrapbook. What a lovely touch.

One of the great advantages of online concerts is the possibility of hearing from artists during short breaks in the concert, and an interview with the conductor (hosted by the ASO general manager and vice president Sameed Afghani) gave some of New’s insights into the Sibelius Fifth Symphony. With World War I looming, Sibelius suffered health issues, fears for his personal safety, and concerns about his career – was he progressive enough? New explained that Sibelius was inspired by seeing swans take flight over a lake, “like another door opening” for the composer.

The Sibelius performance opened with the camera’s focus on the very expressive face of the conductor preparing for the downbeat. With large, clear gestures, New shifted in turn to the various wind players as they prepared for their solos, drawing in the full sections for the tuttis and always indicating precise attacks with her baton. We see fingers up close on French horn keys; the bassoon in profile; the conductor head-on as only the orchestra normally sees her. There’s the genuine feeling of an onstage community of players working together – everybody breathing and bowing in unison, captured from nearly every possible angle. We see what they see: the conductor urging, beseeching, shushing, demanding; the closeups of the cello bow meeting the string; the faces of brass players superimposed upon longer shots of entire orchestra.

The six declarative chords at the end of the Sibelius are the definitive punctuation: clear, focused, powerful.

Kudos to the production and recording team, particularly to director Hilan Warshaw, and lighting designer David Balliet.

*************************

“Ink Dark Moon”: Originally part of the/larger Gemma New program discussed above, this performance of a concerto by Joby Talbot for classical guitar and orchestra is now available on a stand-alone basis for a more limited period of time – only until March 4. “Ink Dark Moon” draws brilliantly on the natural strengths of the classical guitar, rather than trying to make the instrument do what it’s patently not designed to do. This is not to suggest that this concerto is in any respect easy (as it clearly is not); but that Talbot knows how to write for the instrument, and he is not afraid of creating music that is beautiful rather than merely experimental.

Guitarist Miloš Karadaglić is the soloist for this work, which was first heard at the 2018 BBC Proms (this performance is the U.S. premiere). “Ink Dark Moon” opens on the guitar’s bottom string, an open E, with an E-minor chord sequence that gradually brings in the orchestral instruments. There’s a reflective and lyrical solo cadenza, leading on to a speedy repeated treble motif and entrances by the various orchestral instruments (most interesting of which are the harp and percussion).

A contemplative passage with guitar octaves leads into a lively section, and it’s sometimes hard to hear the soloist over the orchestra. He’s a very expressive player, particularly effective in quiet solo passages of great delicacy, with the ASO’s shimmering strings in the background.  One difficulty with a guitar concerto is that there is so little sustained sound, and the volume level is so unequal; in most places, conductor New does a masterly job of balancing the dynamics. The third movement, full of virtuosic solo passages, scampers through key changes and rhythmically challenging passages, all of them brilliantly played by Karadaglić. Here is a terrific addition to the guitar-concerto repertoire – for players who are up to its challenges.

FOR THE WEBSITE “EarRelevant”:

www.earrelevant.com 

Review: Alexander Romanovsky, pianist, in virtual recital of works by Chopin and Rachmaninoff. Spivey Hall (Atlanta). Hosted online by OurConcertsLive, and livestreamed Sunday, December 5, 2021; (https://ourconcerts.live/shows/spivey/romanovsky).

By Melinda Bargreen

After several decades as a music critic and piano fan, it is a surprise to hear for the first time a recital by major keyboard talent who has been on the world’s stages ever since 2001, when Alexander Romanovsky won first prize at the Busoni Competition.

Romanovsky’s current Chopin-Rachmaninoff recital for the excellent Spivey Hall livestreamed programming proved revelatory. Well-known and frequently played, these works (especially the Rachmaninoff) often tempt players into the “faster and louder” mode, as vehicles for the display of technical prowess. Such displays often are accompanied by overuse of the sustaining pedal, which may blur the occasional keyboard error as well as obscuring the finer points of the music.

Not this time! This is a pianist who plays even the biggest showpieces with a variety of touch, and often with the most compelling transparency. Somehow he is able to create airspace even in the big-moment, thunderous passages. It’s not just his judicious use of the pedal; it’s the clarity of his technique that may make the listener sit up and hear passages that are seldom articulated quite so cleanly.

In a brief pre-performance talk, Romanovsky explained the advantages of a livestreamed recital (“With the camera, you can come closer . . . like a recital for a circle of friends when this music was played in salons”). He discussed his choice to pair Chopin and Rachmaninoff by bringing out their similarities: the power in Chopin, and the lyricism in Rachmaninoff.

A Chopin set opened the recital, traversing works that pianists and keyboard fans know well. The familiar Nocturne in E-Flat Major emerged with a lovely, hesitant delicacy that was underscored by expert, subtle pedaling. In this performance, and the works that followed, the biggest surprise for the listener was the spacious quality of the Etudes and Preludes, with a clean technique and a sparing use of the sustaining pedal. There was no sense of a pianist “making his mark” on the music; the music was allowed to breathe and flow. Chopin’s familiar “Raindrop” Prelude was full of contrasts: passages of refinement and delicacy set off by a “storm” of surprising power. The emotional content of the Chopin section was evident in every line; nothing sounded routine.

Best of all among the Chopin selections was the Ballade No. 1, Op., 23, played with an introspective, meditative lyricism as well as the appropriate bravura. Romanovsky made the most of the singing melodies, and in the speedier passages, every note was clear – and yet the overall impression was smoothly legato. The pianist took plenty of time with the ending of the Ballade, adding to the impact of this musical journey. It was a distinctive reading but never a merely idiosyncratic one.

Rachmaninoff’s Etudes-Tableaux are among the great showpieces of the keyboard repertoire. As Romanovsky noted in his spoken introduction to the works, they require considerable virtuosity of the pianist. This recital included the Etudes-Tableaux Nos. 1-5 of Op. 39, works that the pianist called “landmark pieces” in his pre-performance talk.

“Rachmaninoff didn’t like to talk about what was in his mind when he composed these pieces,” he observed. “But this incredibly diverse and speaking music tells us.”

This performance also tells us a lot about the pianist, whose extremes of dexterity and emotional range illuminate the imposing scale of the Etudes-Tableaux. His very mobile face, often gazing upward and often apparently singing along, reflects the mood of each piece. Each is strongly characterized: thoughtful, whimsical, reflective, assertive, full of telling little touches. Among the most interesting of the five was the less-often played No. 2, an introspective journey over a mostly dreamlike landscape, with an ending of refined delicacy. The most impressive was No. 5, surging and romantic with a strong melodic content and the overall character of a virtuoso showpiece.

Finally, there was the Rachmaninoff Second Piano Sonata in B-Flat Minor, a work of which the performer announced, “I love it so much. This sonata is incredible for its concentration of expressive forces. . . Every time I play this second movement, I am really conquered by this simple yet so true and touching music.”

The performance was full of illuminating interior details – not just a wall of sound, but clarity of articulation. Every melody was given its expressive due. The enormous technical requirements of the score were fully met, and even in the speediest passages of the final movement there was the sense of space between the notes – no passages glued together by the sustaining pedal, just crisp, honest arpeggios and declarative passages.

Romanovsky offered a single encore, Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in G Minor (Op. 23, No. 5).

A note about the filming: The production team evidently favored a “high concept” plan in which the pianist and his instrument were mostly shrouded in darkness. Romanovsky’s face was usually visible, except when he moved from side to side out of a narrow spotlight. The keyboard was almost impossible to see, except for a side view of the piano with the artist’s right hand (but not much more) visible to the audience. With so many alternatives available to today’s filmmakers, these choices were disappointing.

FOR THE SEATTLE TIMES:

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Lee Mills conducting, and harp soloists Hannah Lash and Valerie Muzzolini; Benaroya Hall, Nocember 18, 2021. The performance was also livestreamed on “Seattle Symphony Live,” viewable on demand for a full week after the initial airdate (https://live.seattlesymphony.org).

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

There’s never a good time for a busy orchestra conductor to fall ill. But for Seattle Symphony music director Thomas Dausgaard and regional music lovers, the indisposition that kept him off the podium for this week’s concerts is particularly unfortunate.

Not only had Dausgaard just fought his way past visa restrictions to Seattle (from his native Denmark) for last week’s season-opening concerts; this week’s Thursday/Saturday program posed some considerable challenges for a replacement maestro. The concert lineup, featuring two major works by women composers, is not in every conductor’s repertoire. The program’s centerpiece is the world premiere of a genuine rarity: a double harp concerto, commissioned by the Seattle Symphony, with the composer Hannah Lash as one of the two soloists. And the other work on the program, the 1894 “Gaelic Symphony” of Amy Beach, is performed seldom enough that its appearance is a notable event.

Fortunately, the orchestra’s associate conductor Lee Mills was at hand as Dausgaard’s substitute, and he proved the hero of the hour. Just keeping the full orchestra and the two harp soloists together in the world premiere of the complicated 35-minute, four-movement “The Peril of Dreams” was quite a feat. Mills, who clearly knew the score, did considerably more than direct traffic; he brought out the subtle textures and balances of the music.

The new concerto is a work of considerable beauty, with delicate, feathery glissandi in the two harps, a bewitching double cadenza, and intricate rhythmic patterns. Mills supported the brilliant solo harpists (the composer, and the orchestra’s own Valerie Muzzolini) and let them shine.

Lash, who turns 40 next week, is a remarkably multifaceted musician: a pianist as well as a composer and harpist. She holds postgraduate degrees from Harvard, Yale, and the Cleveland Institute of Music, and is now a professor at Mannes School of Music. It’s a life that would have been unimaginable to Amy Beach (1867-1944), a gifted pianist and composer who (during her husband’s lifetime) was referred to as “Mrs. H. H. A. Beach.”

Her “Gaelic” Symphony, incorporating folk themes from her background in the British Isles, is a work of considerable charm, and it got a rousing, high-energy performance from Mills and the orchestra on Thursday evening. With its abundance of melodies, the “Gaelic” Symphony offered great solo opportunities to the orchestra’s principals, particularly the winds, who outdid themselves in this spirited score.

A COVID note to concertgoers: The Seattle Symphony requires all visitors to provide proof of vaccination (or present a negative COVID-19 test) with photo ID, and to wear masks at all times while in Benaroya Hall, except in designated refreshment areas. For additional information about safety measures and policies at the Symphony, visit https://seattlesymphony.org/planyourvisit/safety.

Melinda Bargreen, a Seattle Times reviewer since 1977, is a composer and author. Email: mbargreen@gmail.com. This report is supported, in part, by the Rubin Institute for Music Criticism, San Francisco Conservatory of Music, and the Ann and Gordon Getty Foundation.

 REVIEW:  The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, live concert with Inon Barnatan, pianist/conductor; Benaroya Hall, Seattle, May 20, 2021

By Melinda Bargreen

Special to The Seattle Times

An orchestra, a concert hall, and an evening of great live music.

For Seattle Symphony fans, this magical combination was once commonplace, but it has been unavailable for more than 14 months as the pandemic barred live audiences from Benaroya Hall.

Not any more. On Thursday evening, a group of about 150 mask-wearing, temperature-scanned, invited attendees – socially distanced around the 2,500-seat hall – heard the Symphony and conductor/pianist Inon Barnatan perform the first live concert in the hall since a “Celebrate Asia” program on March 8, 2020.

The experience was surreal in many respects: vast, empty spaces between the masked concertgoers, and around 30 masked musicians on the stage (the wind players removed their masks while playing). But the music was a revelation: two great piano concertos by Mozart and Beethoven, and a stellar piano soloist who also proved a nimble conductor from the keyboard. The hall’s acoustics were unusually reverberant with so few of the sound-absorbing patrons in the hall. The immediacy and power of live music was almost shocking.

A classical music critic since 1975, I’m long habituated to the live-concert experience – but I’ll never take it for granted again. The visceral thrill of hearing the actual sound waves of great music emanating from the Benaroya stage, after such a long absence, was indescribable. Looking around the resonant but sparsely populated hall, it was clear from the level of rapt attention that other music lovers were deeply affected as well.

What does the immediate future hold for the Symphony? There’s still a lot of uncertainty. Publicist Dinah Lu says the SSO had been planning “very conservatively” for next season (2021-22), with audience sizes around 400 people. New updated guidelines, however, indicate a possible audience size of  “about 1,000,” Lu noted.

The SSO has instituted new protocols to reduce the possibility of virus transmission. Digital tickets are emailed to purchasers, and the QR codes are scanned upon entry at Benaroya Hall. Patrons’ temperatures are scanned, too, though no proof of vaccination is required. Access is available through the parking garage elevator (maximum capacity of four people, situated in the corners of the elevator), or through the Boeing Gallery at street level (off Third Avenue). At the end of the concert, patrons remain in their seats until cued, row by row, by ushers.

At present, in-person attendance is limited to subscribers, but new guidelines permitting larger audience sizes may change that. Lu observes, “A lot of people have been fully vaccinated but they feel most comfortable not changing their behavior, out of an abundance of caution. We’ve been in this risk-minimizing mode for so long.”

Meanwhile, the SSO will continue its weekly livestreamed concerts with shortened programs and a smaller, socially distanced, PPE-protected orchestra; the season ends in July. Each weekly concert is also available on demand for 7 days following the live broadcasts (https://seattlesymphony.org/watch-listen/live).

Other orchestras are taking their own cautious steps forward. Just two weeks ago, the San Francisco Symphony reopened, with mandatory face covering and patrons required to show proof of negative COVID-19 test or full vaccination. The first SFO performances (May 6 and 7) allowed 366 attendees; the following week, that was increased to 1,371 (50% capacity of the hall). Pandemic protocols allowed only for masked string players – no winds -- and a timpanist.

It’s an uncertain world, and the rules are in flux. But the music goes on.

FOR THE WEBSITE EarRelevant:  Mark Gresham, owner/editor

Please visit www.earrelevant.com to read more.  I am honored to write the occasional concert review for this distinguished Atlanta-based website.

[Note: More recent reviews appear first, below.]

Review: The Atlanta Symphony Orchestra plays Beethoven and Mozart, with Sir Donald Runnicles conducting; recorded and livestreamed April 8.

By Melinda Bargreen

In the age of the pandemic, music lovers may dream of being swept off to Vienna for some culture and a little gemütlichkeit. For the next two weeks, the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra is bringing Vienna to internet audiences, with a Mozart and Beethoven program that is the next best thing to international travel. The program, led by principal guest conductor Sir Donald Runnicles, is available to view and hear online through April 22.

The music is preceded by some brief welcoming remarks in which Runnicles told the orchestra’s vice president and general manager Sameed Afghani that he experienced “a connection stronger than I’ve ever felt it . . . I’ve never had such a bond with the musicians. Music has this healing power for all of us.”

That connection was certainly borne out in the concert that followed: Mozart’s sparkling Concerto for Flute and Harp, followed by Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4. Here, as in previous ASO online programs, the camera work – that one splendid asset that live concerts cannot duplicate – brought the audience right up to Elisabeth Remy Johnson’s harp strings, and practically inside Christina Smith’s flute. (Both players are orchestra principals.) Some particularly effective camera angles showed views of the flute through the strings of the harp.

So effective and penetrating was the eye of the camera that it offers an access to the music-making process that cannot be equaled in live concerts. The camera’s lens goes where the audience’s eye cannot. When the longed-for return to live concerts occurs, many music lovers might miss seeing the musicians’-eye view of the maestro, or the occasional peep at a player’s score, among many things that can’t be seen from those far-away seats in the audience.

The sound in the Mozart concerto had an almost glistening quality; both players were smoothly assured, and the balances between the two soloists and the orchestra were ideal. Runnicles was a calmly understated presence on the podium; his conducting was restrained but expressive. Small gestures beseeched and coaxed the orchestra players forward, and they quickly responded. It’s possible to quibble over a few very minor points (the opening phrases of the concerto’s second movement were a little imprecise, for example), but the overall effect was remarkably lovely. Among the more memorable moments: the first movement cadenza, a fluid, pliant duet beautifully balanced between the two soloists.

It’s humbling to reflect that this sparkling concerto was composed by a 22-year-old genius who was not particularly fond of either instrument, though he hoped to win the favor of a flute-playing duke and his harpist daughter. It didn’t work – but Mozart won the favor of posterity.

The second and final work on the program, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4, is often described somewhat condescendingly as the least performed of his nine symphonies. Possibly that’s because the Fourth is sandwiched between two eternal favorites: Beethoven’s “Eroica” Symphony (No. 3) and the iconic Symphony No. 5. But No. 4 earned respect from both Berlioz and Schumann, the latter famously calling it “a slender Greek maiden between two Norse giants.”  Among this symphony’s several charms: the suspenseful Adagio opening movement that finally resolves into the lively Allegro vivace; and a charming third-movement Menuetto with some beautiful scoring for woodwinds.

Runnicles is not a conductor of huge, grand gestures; he emphasized the contrasts in the score with an expressive right hand that got immediate results from the attentive players. The second movement was particularly fine: artful phrasing and articulation in all the strings, all highlighted by clever camera angles (concertgoers seldom see a view of the stage through the strings of a double bass). Buoyant and unforced, the third movement’s woodwind solos were excellent, and Runnicles gave the fourth a light, fleet texture that rose to a high-spirited finale.

Review: Gabriela Montero, pianist, in recital; live-streamed Friday, March 5,  from her home in Barcelona, for the Schwartz Center for the Performing Arts.

By Melinda Bargreen

When the recitalist is Gabriela Montero, you know it’s not going to be a “business as usual” piano recital. The Venezuelan-born pianist, who turns 51 this year, is famous for her creative programming and for the inventive flair she brings to her recitals. This one has an intriguing theme: music relating to childhood, spanning a couple of centuries and three genres. Montero combined the usual (Schumann’s beloved “Kinderszenen,” or “Scenes from Childhood,” Op. 15) with the decidedly unusual (selections from Chick Corea’s “Children’s Songs”) and her own five-movement composition, “Scenes from Childhood,” followed by a free-form finale enticingly entitled “Improvisations.”

The recital, filmed and recorded at Montero’s home in Barcelona, Spain, was streamed on March 5 by the Schwartz Center for the Performing Arts Virtual Stage, as part of the Candler Concert Series.

What strikes the viewer first is the unforced ease and naturalness of Montero at the keyboard. The charming and often-heard “Kinderszenen” (“Scenes from Childhood”) are given lots of variety in articulation, along with a prevailing sense of playfulness. The pieces are well characterized – spirited, or pensive, or stately. Nothing is overdone; the famous “Träumerei” is a little miracle of lyrical ease. The famous melody is gently spun out, with lots of space for dreaming and a flexible tempo. Montero gives a pensive, unhurried account of “Fast zu Ernst” and suitably peaceful, spacious “Kind im Einschlummern”. As is so often the case in music, the art is in the details; Montero has a great command of subtle dynamics.

After the “Kinderszenen,” the pianist turns from the keyboard to face the viewer: “Hello! Welcome to my home.” And the online audience does feel welcomed into Montero’s home, where she is seated at her piano as if on the concert stage. Here, however, is the one aspect of this recital that most viewers would probably like to change. We COVID-era music lovers have become accustomed to concerts featuring sophisticated camera work, where the lens swoops down to capture various views of the artist – close-ups of the hands, views of the score, angles showing the performer’s facial expressions.

The second set presented selections from the “Childhood Songs” of Chick Corea, whom Montero considers “one of the greatest musical geniuses of this last century. There is a complexity and something very novel about his music. He is one of greatest musicians of all time.”

The “Children’s Songs” selections proved both sophisticated and ruminative, and they also possessed the energy of childhood – a scampering right-hand motif over a galloping left-hand figure. These aren’t easy pieces; jazzy and often intricate, they have an improvisatory air, and melodies that are sometimes reflective and sometimes full of the frenetic excitement of youth. Some of the pieces are very challenging, but Montero’s clean, nimble technique made them seem easy and engaging.

The program’s final set, “Scenes from Childhood,” focused on the pianist as composer, a role in which she made her debut 10 years ago with the tone poem “Ex Patria,” about Venezuela’s recent and troubled political history. (Montero also has composed a piano concerto, the “Latin” Concerto.)

In this set, one great advantage of the streamed concert was readily apparent: Montero, a warm and lovely presence on camera, speaking directly to her audience in a way that couldn’t be replicated in a larger concert hall.

“I’ve played this program many times in the last two years, before the world stopped,” she told the camera. “My idea was that each performance would be fresh and spontaneous recollections for me of these specific memories. The first memory was the sense I had as child waking up in Caracas, a concrete maze surrounded by the mountains. Somehow nature always imposes itself. This first piece is an impression of what I remember. Nothing has been written down: musically speaking, these are pieces that happen now and do not happen again.”

Subsequent movements in Montero’s “Scenes from Childhood” focused on other vivid subjects – for example, on wild parrots who fly all over the city: “Sometimes there would be six or seven of them on your balcony, like the city and wildness living together,” Montero explained. The third (“The Drunk”) was about a homeless man, often drunk, who walked up and down the street with salsa music playing from a little boom box on his shoulder. The fourth movement (“Missing Home”) starts out like a Chopin piece, whose repeated left-hand arpeggios and a plaintive minor melody in the right hand gave a sense of nostalgia, rising to an apex of sorrow and lamentation. The finale (“My Mother’s Lullaby”) is evocative and peaceful.

Montero’s program lists a final entry:  “Improvisations.”

“These have no structure,” she told her audience.

“I sit at the piano -- and the faucet opens. I play a once-in-a-lifetime rendition of a piece that doesn’t exist. It comes from a place that is a mystery. When I improvise, I get out of the way and connect to something primal and emotional.

“It’s very childlike, that inner child that remains a part of me,” Montero told her online viewers.

The improvisations that follow have the feeling of fully finished pieces: structurally cogent, and traditional in format. Some are gently reminiscent of Chopin; the opening of one piece might have been by Bach. There are almost no hesitations in Montero’s performance of music that has just been freshly invented. In five decades as a concertgoer, I’ve never heard anything quite like this.

Review: the Jerusalem Quartet at Spivey Hall, livestreamed Feb. 28, 2021 on OurConcerts.live.

By Melinda Bargreen

Long-established string quartets are usually praised for their wisdom, vision, and unanimity; younger quartets for their passion, technique, and energy.

How wonderful to have all six attributes together in one ensemble, as does the Jerusalem Quartet in its current livestream performance of Mozart and Schubert quartets presented by Spivey Hall. Founded in 1993, the ensemble may have 28 years of experience under its cummerbunds, but the players still perform with the musical vitality of recent prizewinners. The Quartet members are Alexander Pavlovsky, violin; Sergei Bresler, violin; Ori Kam, viola; and Kyril Zlotnikov, cello.

In this program, the Jerusalem Quartet offers two undisputed masterpieces – Mozart’s K,575 and Schubert’s No. 14 (“Death and the Maiden”) -- performed and recorded in a clear and resonant musical space, the Jerusalem Music Center. Both works bear an emotional significance for the respective composer: Mozart wrote the K.575 (one of his last group of quartets) to appeal to Kaiser Friedrich Wilhelm II, who apparently turned them down, much to his disappointment. Schubert composed his No. 14 when he was already ill with a disease that would kill him a few years later.

Both performances are revelatory. Watching the Jerusalem Quartet in action is a study in contradictions: unlike many string quartets, whose members are in constant eye contact and are closely observing each other, these four players appear to be in their respective sound worlds. First violinist Pavlovsky looks up only occasionally from his score; the other players are similarly engrossed in the music, with few of the sidelong glances or other cues usually employed by ensembles in ensuring unanimity. These four players don’t need cues to do that: they know exactly where they’re all going.

Somehow, they create the subtlest nuances of phrasing with almost no physical cues: the opening lines of the Mozart flitted like an airborne feather back and forth among the instruments. And their diminuendos seemed to float up into the ether like a puff of smoke; the sound just wafts away.

The music is wonderfully characterized; it’s amazing to hear the delicate separation of notes in Mozart first-movement staccato passages. There’s a real sense of musical rapport in the question-and-answer passages between the players as they pass themes back and forth.  And yet, there’s scarcely any eye contact among the four quartet members; they know exactly where they are and what they’re doing next.

The quartet members are fairly closely miked; you hear indrawn breaths and the subtly waning contact with the string on a long diminuendo.  The very active cello part (in which that instrument plays the melody in passages with the bass line given to the viola instead) clearly substantiates the belief that Mozart wrote this quartet with the cello-playing royal in mind.

The third movement of the Mozart is beautifully detailed with lots of dynamic contrasts, sudden accents and withdrawals, and lively interplay among the four instruments. The intervals (especially fifths and octaves) are precise and clean. The final movement is a marvel of freshness and invention, and the players’ expressive faces reflect their pleasure in the music.

One of the few advantages of streamed concerts over live events – creative camerawork – gives this concert an intriguing dimension. Several different camera angles highlight specific players at vital moments in the score. And an astonishing overheard view, used sparingly but effectively, gives the performance an aspect few viewers could see in a live concert.

And then we go from the sunny D major of the Mozart quartet to the stormy D minor opening statement of the Schubert. It’s a different sound world and a totally different performance style. This is where the Jerusalem Quartet shows its remarkable depth. Playing this turbulent music with a relentless energy, the quartet made the tricky double-stop chord sequences near the end of the movement sound like an organ chorale. The command of dynamics was just extraordinary, as the sound tapered away into silence at the end of the movement.

In the second movement (Andante con moto), the four players spin out their sound to a mere thread without losing control; missteps are rare, sometimes involving matters as subtle as a pizzicato that’s just a little too quiet at the end of a given phrase. The camera pans in on the instruments one by one as each player comes to the fore in turn. The cello’s solo is shot closeup from the side so you see the precise contact of bow and fingers to the strings. Aerial shots again are effective. So much is lost in a long-distance recorded performance that it is gratifying to have “value added” elements like creative camerawork.

Individual voices emerge with virtuoso solos that advance and recede. There’s some fierce work from the cellist in the stormiest passages. Then finally the minor changes to major like a quiet benediction.

The third-movement Scherzo is vigorous and strongly accented, but without the rasping and forcing that are sometimes heard in this movement. When the opening statement returns, all the first violin has to do is to initiate just a moment of eye contract, and then they’re off.

Rare is the note that is not hit dead center, or the bow that is a nanosecond before or behind everyone else.  These players have refined every attack, every release, in a performance that is strikingly unanimous, but still manages to sound spontaneous and sudden. They’re capable of turning on a dime between forceful passages and calm delicacy. Rare is the note that is not hit dead center.

The final Presto is a miracle of clean precision, fleet and full of contrasts in dynamics and bowing.

As always in these virtual concerts, there’s the sudden surprise of dead silence, just when you’re expect a standing, shrieking audience that has been thoroughly thrilled. But there are compensations: In this case, an interview of two of the quartet’s players, Pavlovsky and Kam, with executive and artistic director of Spivey Hall, Sam Dixon. It’s a nice touch that gives the concertgoer a welcome glance behind the scenes.

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Review: David Finckel, cellist, and pianist Wu Han in recital, performing Saint-Saens’ Sonata No. 1 in C Minor and Franck’s Cello Sonata in A Major; recorded for ourconcerts.live.com at their home in Westchester, New York, and presented by Spivey Hall at Clayton State University. Atlanta. (https://ourconcerts.live/finckel-han)

By Melinda Bargreen

Outside their living room window, past the grand piano and the cellist’s chair, you can see what looks like a rainy deck and a cluster of trees.

Welcome to the Westchester, New York, home of cellist David Finckel and pianist Wu Han, who were originally booked to play their recital of Saint-Saens and Franck in Atlanta’s Spivey Hall. Like so many events impacted by the current pandemic, this recital is now taking place online, with all the limitations that this implies.

But wait. That living room looks pretty welcoming, as if you were somehow invited from your own home into theirs to hear them play. Finckel and Han are chatting back and forth about the repertoire: why it’s a “French program” even though Franck was born in Belgium, and why they think Saint-Saens “leans to the past; Franck to the future.”

Finckel is attired a conventional dark suit; Han sports a vivid green caftan, and extremely tall spike-heeled pumps that make you fear for the beautiful hardwood floor. Camera angles shift around, with close-ups of incredibly dexterous fingers on the piano keyboard and the faultless trajectory of the cello bow.

They launch immediately into the Saint-Saens Sonata No. 1, playing with the kind of security and ensemble that bespeaks long familiarity and deep understanding (of the repertoire, and of each other). Finckel occasionally glances over his left shoulder toward Han; she is facing away from him, but occasionally peeks over her right shoulder to see the trajectory of his bow, and to make even the slightest tempo change unanimous. Another quick glance exchange nails down the timing of the start of the next movement. Clearly they don’t need eye contact to establish their ensemble. Han and Finckel play with a unity established over many years.

Not surprisingly, the balances are well judged; the cello well to the front, but the piano equally assertive and all but note-perfect (even in the stormy, challenging perpetual-motion third movement). What a high-energy finale!

The Franck Sonata, Finckel later observes in the post-concert talk, has long been so familiar to him that he can’t remember his first hearing. He wrote his own cello transcription (of the original violin solo) because of his love of the piece, a love that is abundantly clear in this radiant performance with Han.

The performance of the Franck shows all the virtues of long familiarity, and none of the drawbacks: entrances are precise, tempo changes are right on target, and the back-and-forth exchanges between the players are perfectly judged. Yet there is nothing rote or businesslike about this music – not in the delicate question-and-answer passages, or the assertive big-moment drama of the stormy second movement. There’s a dreamy, ruminative quality to the third movement, with Han judiciously applying the pedal for an occasionally hazy effect. The fourth-movement canon had the couple smiling in pleasure at a particularly nice shared phrase, and moving in perfect unison throughout that famous shared canon.

Han and Finckel know how to shape the music like sculpture: Just a slight hesitation here, a surge forward there, and a sudden pianissimo, folding the end of one phrase into the beginning of the next. This performance had all the felicities of a duo that knows all the directions and partialities of the other. There was so much to enjoy: big, stormy moments that suddenly subside; the shared canon of the famous fourth-movement melody.

After the encore (Debussy’s “Girl With the Flaxen Hair,” made remarkable by Finckel’s amazing bow control), there was an unexpected dessert: a long-distance Q&A, hosted offsite by Spivey Hall’s executive director Samuel Dixon. The discussion was remarkable: Han’s first acquaintance with the Franck Sonata (flute version!) accompanying a Taiwan concert by Jean-Pierre Rampal when she was 21. Finckel’s great love for the same sonata (“It speaks to me in a very revealing voice”). The couple’s adventures in teaching (Han’s French teacher wanted her to create the “sound of the snow” and caress the key).

Han talked about a recent trip to Taiwan (complete with lengthy quarantine) to finally play live concerts for enthusiastic audiences; “I cried before and after, when I walked off stage – so much incredible energy was piled up, from March to November. How much we appreciate the arts now! Now, playing is a pleasure and a privilege.”

Finckel observed with amazement how the pandemic has caused “the whisking away of all the performance obligations – you don’t have to go anywhere and there is your cello, sitting there. I remind myself of why I began in music, not to become famous or applauded, but satisfying a deeper human need to live in music and to serve -- a kind of a calling. I can do that with or without an audience.

“Right now there is probably more solo Bach being played in the world than at any other time.”

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Review: “Nathalie Stutzmann Conducts Beethoven and Wagner.”

Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, with Nathalie Stutzmann conducting. Online access available to members for a month; for details on virtual membership, visit ASO.org/membership.

By Melinda Bargreen

Symphonic music in the time of the pandemic is a curious and challenging endeavor. The very backbone of the concert world is the experience of great music performed live by expert, inspired musicians, in a hall designed to maximize the beauty and impact of live sound. Since today’s COVID realities make this impossible, can virtual concerts possibly fill the bill?

Yes, and better than one might suppose. The Atlanta Symphony Orchestra’s current program, recorded in advance (not livestream) and available online for a month following the Dec. 10 premiere, features a lyrical and inspiring conductor in three attractive works of a scale suitable for today’s onstage realities. That means a reduced number of “socially distanced” players, most of them masked except for the wind players, whose aerosols are presumably contained by the plexiglass shields. (This seems a far healthier arrangement than that of some other orchestras, such as the Seattle Symphony, whose wind players simply slip aside their masks when they are playing, replacing them afterward.)

The ASO team does not merely stand there and let the cameras run. Instead, this filmed concert features imaginative and inventive video work, courtesy of director Hilan Warshaw, editor Devin Ray Smith, and a gifted team of cameramen, recording engineers, and editors.

It is clear from the opening of the concert that this will be no ordinary performance video. The camera lingers on a bright object that gradually comes into focus as the bell of a trombone, heard in the opening lines of Lauren Bernofsky’s stately, tonal “Passacaglia.” Viewers see reflections in the body of the tuba, and closeups of the musicians’ faces and the score on one player’s stand. The individual instruments are highlighted as their passages occur, and the focus shifts often to conductor Nathalie Stutzmann’s expressive hands, as they shape phrase after phrase with clarity and urgency.

We all know what’s missing from a film presentation: what is interesting is what’s been added to the concert experience in this particular film. The camera’s eye meanders around the musicians, peeking at their scores, watching them breathe. Here is the left hand of the clarinetist; the bass player gripping the bow; the flutist spinning out an impossibly long phrase on a single breath.

There are other advantages. The video format places power in the hands of the observer: would you like to hear that cello solo again? How about the oboe entrance? Or the tricky tiptoeing in the opening of the Beethoven Symphony No. 1 finale? Or perhaps you’d like to pour a glass of wine? Or would you like to hear the whole symphony over again? Just click.

The video format also allows for extramusical enhancements. It was inspiring to watch the interview with Larry LeMaster, the orchestra’s longtime principal cello, discussing his retirement after 47 years (“It’s been a great joy”). This is a player who was hired by Robert Shaw in 1973, and who remembers going through “Checkpoint Charlie” to East Germany in one of the orchestra’s many tours.

The concert film itself gives the viewers an experience they could never get in a concert hall. In the performance of Wagner’s “Siegfried Idyll,” the camera zooms in as a bow tenderly traverses an instrument, and follows the musical line as it is passed back and forth among the sections and individuals. We look at a clarinetist expertly shaping a trill with fluttering fingers. There is face-on footage of Stutzmann and her eloquent hands. The cameras closely track the progress of the music and anticipate the solos of the orchestral players, always in the right place at the right time. (The players are all clad in black, but not in formal concert dress.)

The eye of the lens peers over the shoulder of the concertmaster for a view you’d never get from the audience. A far-off balcony camera shows the onstage videographers at work – they’re invisible to the video audience, except from this vantage point. The sound quality is surprisingly clear: you can hear the indrawn breath of the conductor before the downbeat.

And then comes one of the biggest differences from a live concert: an exquisite diminuendo leads to the final chord of the Wagner work, and then … nothing. No ovation. No applause, no roars of approval. It feels a little surreal.

The Beethoven symphony starts, with Stutzmann using a baton this time, in small, precise, punchy gestures. It’s a fleet, light performance with no exaggerations or distortions: this reading is about Beethoven, not about Stutzmann.

The Beethoven also gets some of the most interesting video work: camera angles hop between the oboe and the flute in their interchanges; the third movement begins with a view of the underside of a violin, and there are lots of close-ups of unusual angles of bows and timpani.

The musical values are even better. There’s a prevailing sense of fun, in a score that can sometimes sound pompous. Stutzmann starts the fourth movement with expertly negotiated, delicate opening passages, like the careful setup of a joke, leading to an exuberant finale.

And then there is silence. We’ll have to imagine the cheering crowds at home.

-- Melinda Bargree

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