Chopin and Rachmaninoff with Nobuyuki Tsujii and Slobodeniouk at Severance

2025’s Summers at Severance series concluded Thursday with guest conductor Dima Slobodeniouk and guest pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii.

Tsujii is 36 years old and hails from Japan.  He has been blind since birth but that didn’t prevent him from tying for the Gold Medal at the 2009 Van Cliburn International Piano Competition.  Based on what I heard last night, the prize was entirely deserved.  He and the orchestra performed Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor, Op. 21, a concerto which has been somewhat underappreciated on account of its orchestration which is sort of “meh.”  It’s also a finger twisting challenge for even the most gifted pianists.  Tsujii’s mastery of the work was not merely a question of technique, which would be superb even in a sighted person; Tsujii’s interpretation was entirely his own without resorting to eccentricities.  The pianist avoided unnecessary swooning rubati, instead using constantly shifting dynamics and coloration for expression.  Slobodeniouk and the orchestra presented a lovely accompaniment, with greater clarity than is often heard in this work.  For example, there was a melodic line in the celli that I’d never taken particular notice of in recordings, and the brief sequence in the finale where the strings play col legno battuto (with the wooden side of the bow) was appropriately charming and rustic.   

The performance was rapturously received, and the pianist’s encore was a staggering yet musical rendition of Liszt’s La Campanella. 

Following intermission Slobodeniouk returned to lead the orchestra in Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27.  The Cleveland Orchestra has a long association with this symphony, being the first orchestra to record the work in 1928.  The orchestra’s library still has the conductor’s score used at those sessions,  marked in the composer’s own hand with the cuts made to fit the work onto twelve 78rpm sides.  Slobodeniouk performed the work without cuts, as has fortunately become customary these days.  Initially, the first movement moved tepidly along, only catching fire during the long development section where the violas play those low dissonant notes.  From there things improved and Slobodeniouk brilliantly drove the climax and coda home.  The scherzo which followed was on point, with brilliant pacing and voicing of the central fugal section.  The third movement had a lovely plasticity of phrasing, with alternate tension and relief.  This led to a beautifully expansive finale with wonderful use of dynamics and eschewing of the cheap sentimentality occasionally heard in this work.  At the work’s rhythmic conclusion, the conductors eyeglasses flew from his head and into the viola section, where they were promptly retrieved by a violist.

The orchestra’s 2025-2026 season starts in September, and I have already purchased tickets for 20 of the performances. 

Spanish Fantasy

 I draw inspiration for my compositions from people, places, and emotions.

  

Ravel and Tchaikovsky with Seong-Jin Cho and Welser-Möst

Franz is back.  Music Director Franz Welser-Möst, having successfully completed treatment for cancer, returned to leading the Cleveland Orchestra several weeks ago.  This was my first chance to see him since his return.  This evening’s concert was testimony that he is in excellent form, despite a rather uneven concert overall.

The first half of the concert featured the music of Maurice Ravel, and began with the Rapsodie espagnole.  Having just returned from Spain three weeks ago, the work brought back happy memories.  Daniel and I sat in row H, closer than usual.  From this vantage point, the orchestra sounded less burnished than we are used to.  But this resulted in greater clarity and, during the Rapsodie’s more extroverted sections, a brilliance that never crossed the line into harshness. 

The next work was Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G major, with soloist Seong-Jin Cho.  This was my first time hearing Cho, who won the 2015 International Chopin Competition.  I’ve heard the Ravel played locally by a number of pianists, from Jean-Efflam Bavouzet to Víkingur Ólafsson.  Whatever Cho’s competition credentials and media hype, his performance of the concerto was a disappointment, both to me and to a knowledgeable young pianist of my acquaintance with whom I conversed at intermission.  It wasn’t a question of technique: the piano part was struck off with amazing clarity – there were aspects of the piano writing that I’d never heard before.  But there was no narrative through-line due to the excessive attention to detail and pianistic micromanaging.  In the end, Cho was a soloist, not a collaborator.  Welser-Möst and the orchestra provided an appropriately saucy and jazzy yet polished accompaniment, but the final result was less than the sum of its parts.  Despite that, the audience responded with enthusiasm and Cho played an encore, the middle movement from Ravel’s Sonatine.    

Following intermission, Welser-Möst returned to lead the orchestra in Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No, 4 in F minor, Op. 36.  A recording he made with the orchestra was recently issued, but I found this weekend’s performance to be even more convincing.  It came down to pacing and balance.  The opening movement was propulsive until the lyrical section, where Welser-Möst backed off and let the music breathe.  The second movement exuded a restrained nobility, far removed from the hardware, schmaltzy Tchaikovsky that blights too many concert halls.  But the best was yet to come: the third movement, marked Scherzo, featured a relatively relaxed pace and exquisite pizzicatos from the strings, played pianissimo, with higher dynamics during the wind dominated central section.  This set the stage for a finale which was off the charts exhilarating.  One of Welser-Möst’s strengths is his understanding of structure, which Tchaikovsky needs.  Another strength is Welser-Möst’s ability to built a climax without losing control.  The coda of the work was an example, where the conductor accelerated the already headlong tempo driving the symphony to a stunning conclusion that brought the audience cheering to its feet.

Welcome home, Franz!

American music with Robertson and Hamelin at Severance

Guest conductor David Robertson led the Cleveland Orchestra in a program of 20^th Century American music at Severance Hall this weekend.

The concert began with Aaron Copland’s 1945 version of his suite from  “Appalachian Spring.”  Personally, I prefer the complete ballet in its original version for chamber orchestra, but the performance was so striking this was a minor quibble.  Gone was the orchestra’s typical burnished, European sound – replaced with a clean tone that was quintessentially American.  As a conductor, Robertson is engaging without being ostentatious – a nice contrast from the stodgy kapellmeisters and Intagram hotties who inflict themselves on too many orchestras. The performance was perfectly balanced and the pacing was perfect for a ballet score.  It was well received by the audience, especially an elderly patron behind me who hummed throughout the Simple Gifts section.    

Guest pianist Marc-André Hamelin then took to the stage for George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, an instantly popular work since its premiere 100 years ago.  Hamelin is, without question, one of the finest pianists in the world today – and quite probably in possession of the finest technique among living pianists.  This performance featured the original orchestration for jazz band by Ferde Grofé.  Clarinetist Daniel McKelway kicked things off with a sexily flirtatious wind up, then pitched things over to trumpetist Michael Sachs for an equally sassy reply.  Hamelin’s contribution included rippling passages seamlessly blended in with the band, while allowing himself more freedom during the work’s solos.  The romantic melody that enters two-thirds into the work was accompanied by the same audience member as in the Copland.  The performance was rapturously received, and Hamelin gave an encore: a beautifully rendered The Single Petal of a Rose by Duke Ellington, which featured some gorgeous pianissimos.

Following intermission, Robertson and Hamlin returned, this time with the full orchestra, for Duke Ellington’s New World A-Comin’, composed in 1943.  Like Rhapsody in Blue, it’s difficult to pigeonhole this work as being in the Classical or Jazz genre, and is best to simply enjoy as fine music.  Perhaps because the piece was unfamiliar to me, I found this performance even more engaging than the Gershwin.  Ellington's piano writing was a bit more colorful and sophisticated than Gershwin's.

The final work of the evening returned the audience to Copland: the suite from his opera “The Tender Land.”  The work, originally composed for television broadcast, had the plug pulled by the NBC network – possibly due to the right-wing interference that was common during the McCarthy era.  As with Appalachian Spring, The Tender Land has the open, rural quality that is considered by many to exemplify American music – even incorporating bird calls in the woodwinds.  Outside of the Party Scene, the piece is primarily contemplative – and despite the work’s quiet ending, was enthusiastically received. 

Beethoven Piano Concertos at Severance – a potpourri of pianists

For months, Cleveland area classical music lovers had been looking forward to a cycle of Beethoven’s five piano concertos, plus the Triple concerto – all featuring pianist Igor Levit and under the direction of Music Director Franz Welser-Möst.  Speculation was that the cycle was to be recorded for later release. 

A few weeks ago, Cleveland Orchestra patrons received this message from Franz Welser-Möst, who has been undergoing treatment for cancer: "I am terribly sorry that I can’t be with you for the upcoming concerts in November. The side effects of the immunotherapy don’t allow me to travel right now. But, I know you will never-the-less, with or without me, enjoy the wonderful playing of your Orchestra. I look forward immensely to return to make great music for you in 2025. I miss you. Thank you!"

We wish Franz a speedy and complete recovery.  Cleveland Orchestra Associate Conductor Daniel Reith stepped up to lead all the programs.

Shortly after Welser-Möst’s announcement, Igor Levit withdrew from the series.

Five pianists stepped in to perform the piano concertos: Orion Weiss, in the Triple Concerto alongside violinist Augustin Hadelich and cellist Julia Hagen; Sir Stephen Hough, Garrick Ohlsson, Minsoo Sohn, and Yunchan Lim in the remaining concertos. 

Orion Weiss is a Cleveland area native – in fact he grew up just a few blocks from my grandmother’s home in Lyndhurst.  I’ve seen him perform several times dating back to when he was a student at the Cleveland Institute of Music.  I’ve also seen Augustin Hadelich perform several times, including a staggeringly brilliant performance of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto last year.  Beethoven’s Triple Concerto is not a showpiece – it was written for one of the composer’s royal piano pupils who was probably not very advanced.  The greatest technical challenges are reserved for the cellist, who must play in the instrument’s upper registers – which Julia Hagan did with accuracy, aplomb, and musicality.  Hadelich’s joy in performing this concerto – which contains chamber music within it – was palpable.  Weiss brought sparks to the piano part, and all three soloists performed with a sense of communing – something much needed after a difficult and divisive week.  Daniel Reith and the orchestra provided an appropriately scaled accompaniment. 

Soloists and orchestra following the Triple Concerto.

Following intermission pianist Sir Stephen Hough took to the stage to perform Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37.  I must confess that this is far from my favorite piano concerto, even among Beethoven’s concerti.  After hearing Mozart’s concerto in the same key, Beethoven exclaimed to a friend “We shall never have an idea such as that!”  Aside from key signature, there is nothing comparable about the two works.  But Hough brought something special to the piece, a defiant quality that most pianists too often filter out, which hints at the Beethoven that is to come.  The pianist was creative in his deployment of inner voices, with some daring pedaling in the slow movement which allowed harmonies to blend in the way that the composer intended – but which many pianists in their never-ending quest for clarity are loath to allow.  Hough immediately launched from the hushed Largo to the final Rondo so abruptly that it startled some in the audience – which would no doubt have delighted Beethoven.  The orchestra’s contribution was equally bold and decisive. 

Hough and the orchestra acknowledging applause.

Garrick Ohlsson was the soloist for Beethoven’s even numbered concertos.  Unfortunately, near-constant coughing from one audience member behind and to my left (I was in Row T, keyboard side) disrupted my concentration.  The Second Concerto (which was actually written first but published second) was given a lovely, chamber-like quality by Reith and the orchestra.  Despite a minor kerfuffle in the opening movement, Ohlsson’s performance was one of bounce, poetry, and wit.  Despite its mostly lyrical nature, pianists will tell you the Fourth concerto is a beast to play.  I would swear I heard Ohlsson play it at Severance about 20 years ago.  The performance was a model of poise, clarity, and musicality by both pianist and orchestra.  One feature I noticed was Ohlsson’s careful attention to trills and ornaments – each integrated into the piece.  Both performances were enthusiastically received, and the pianist gifted the audience with an appropriate encore: the slow movement from Beethoven’s “Pathetique” Sonata.

Ohlsson after the G major Concerto

The cycle was rounded out with Beethoven’s First Concerto (which was actually composed after the second) and the Fifth Concerto – the so-called “Emperor.”

Beethoven’s First Concerto must have been quite shocking the first time it was heard in Vienna toward the end of the 18^th Century.  In terms of pianism, it goes far beyond anything Mozart dared – with rapid passagework, arpeggios, constant pianistic gear-shifting, and even a glissando.  Minsoo Sohn, who I’d never heard of, was the soloist.  The outer movements were brisk and propulsive, with the pianist employing a wider dynamic range than would have been possible on the pianos of the time.  In the opening movement, Sohn chose the most extroverted of the composer’s three cadenzas, said to be in the spirit of the Beethoven’s own famed improvisations.  The central movement was given chamber music clarity.  The performance was very warmly received, and the pianist played a lovely encore: the Aria from J. S. Bach’s Goldberg Variations – with a rare sense of repose and tasteful embellishments in the repeats.

Sohn’s pupil, Yunchan Lim – who won the Van Cliburn competition last year – was soloist in the “Emperor” concerto.  It hardly needs pointing out that Beethoven did not choose the imperial name for this concerto – simply referring to it as a Concerto in E-flat major for piano and orchestra.  Unfortunately, the name has led to an interpretive approach which too often brings to the work a sense of pomposity and portentousness – as if it was intended for Henry VIII in the late stages of his life.  Lim had none of that.  His treatment of the work was within the classical mode, with an opening movement notable for its lean, lithe approach and brisk tempos.  The central movement was, by contrast, a bit heavier than it needed to be; but this was forgotten when Lim gracefully segued into the final Rondo – delivered with an almost balletic sense of rhythm.  Technically, Lim’s performance was unimpeachable, although some purists may have been offended by the pianist’s penchant for moving several ground bass notes an octave lower than written – beyond the limits of Beethoven’s own keyboard.  The bulk of the audience was highly enthusiastic – myself included.  For his encore, perhaps as a tribute to his teacher, Lim returned to the Goldberg Variations, turning in a reflective rendition of the work’s 13^th Variation.  At a time when much of the country – and the world – is on edge, it was a welcome moment of shared relaxation.

Lim and company following the “Emperor” Concerto.

In conclusion, the substitute pianists were all wonderful.  But Levit’s cancellation irks me.  I can't imagine Arthur Rubinstein would have ever cancelled a concert because the conductor had to withdraw.  In fact, in over 70 years as a pianist, Rubinstein almost never canceled - he even played two concerts in one day when his manager accidentally double-booked him.  The only exception was when he was in his 80s and came down with Shingles.  As for the past two weeks, the loss was Levit’s – not the audience’s.

Sorry, couldn't resist.

Rachmaninoff with Chan and Bronfman at Severance

After leading the Cleveland Orchestra on its European tour, music director Franz Welser-Möst – who was treated within the last year for cancer – opted out of the first three weeks of concerts at Severance Hall.  We wish him a speedy return to full vigor.

This was the first concert of the 2024-2025 season that Daniel and I attended.  Over the past year, I’ve noticed an increasing noise problem coming from the back of the main floor.  As we’ve customarily gotten seats in Row W – the last – the problem has been quite distracting.  So, I decided to experiment and this time we were seated in Row N on the left aisle.

Elim Chan was called on to substitute for Welser-Möst, and the opening half of the program featured pianist Yefim Bronfman in Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto in D minor, Op. 30.  Bronfman has long been a friend of the orchestra.  That this concerto requires technique to burn is well known, what is less grasped it that it also requires musicality.  Yes, Virginia, it takes just as much musical understanding to convincingly perform Rachmaninoff as it does with Brahms – it’s just a different kind of musicality.  Bronfman’s performance was similar in spirit to Rachmaninoff’s own: a dramatic through-line ran through the whole piece.  He offered the work intact – without the disfiguring cuts that Rachmaninoff, in a fit of insecurity, endorsed for several of his larger works, including the Second Symphony and Second Sonata.  Bronfman chose the larger of the two cadenzas in the opening movement, and though I prefer the shorter cadenza (as did the composer), one can only state that whoever can play this concerto so masterfully should feel free to play whichever cadenza he chooses.  Chan and the orchestra provided an accompaniment which was attentive to the composer’s dynamic markings and well-balanced with Bronfman’s titanic style.  The hall, which seemed half-full of pianists (many of whom moved their fingers in time with the soloist, leapt to its feet at the concerto's rousing conclusion.

Bronfman receiving a richly deserved ovation.

Following intermission, Chan replaced the originally programmed Petrushka ballet score by Stravinsky with Rachmaninoff’s Symphonic Dances, Op. 45 – his last completed major work.  This may seem like an incongruous change from the Stravinsky, but Rachmaninoff originally conceived the work as a ballet suite.  Here Chan, who conducts sans baton, really shone.  Tempi were unusually flexible without becoming chaotic.  The second movement, which sounds as if it depicts a haunted ballroom dance, featured some daring ritardandi, which allowed Rachmaninoff’s lingering melodies to unfold with tantalizing succulence.  The final movement, where some of the composer’s string figurations are frankly erotic, was appropriately sensual without becoming vulgar.  Individual highlights from this evening’s performance were gorgeous violin, saxophone, and clarinet solos, along with riveting percussion work throughout – capped off by the final tam-tam blow.  Chen singled them out during the sustained and enthusiastic ovation that followed.

Both performances were simply the finest I’ve ever heard of these works in concert.  What more need I say?  Only that from our seats in Row N, the sound was a bit less blended, with strings a bit more prominent than we were used to hearing.  We’re going to be experimenting with various places in the hall over the next few months, so it remains to be seen (or heard) where our niche will reside. 

My review of Misha Dichter - the complete RCA recordings.

My latest Amazon review is of Sony's three disc set of Misha Dichter's RCA recordings. I was torn between whether to give the set three or four stars. The final rating is based strictly on the performances. Engineering and piano issues, along with the disappointing presentation, would bring it down to three stars.  Click here to read it. 

1/2 a Summer concert at Severance

The Cleveland Orchestra presented the first of three 2024 Summers at Severance concerts with guest conductor Oksana Lyniv and pianist Inon Barnatan last night.  

Our new dog, Brownie was neutered and microchipped yesterday.  Dan & I brought him home to recover – during which he has to be supervised and must wear the dreaded “cone of shame.”  Daniel had to work early this morning,  so I was only able to attend the first half of the concert.

The concert began just a few minutes after 7:00pm with selections from Leoš Janáček’s The Cunning Little Vixen.  The Cleveland Orchestra presented the full opera, inventively staged, in 2014.  It was so well received that it was revived three years later.  Conductor Sir Charles Mackerras compiled selections from Act I into an orchestral suite, and the music holds up well sans singers and staging.  Lyniv obtained exceptionally clear playing from the strings and the performance as a whole was well paced.  The audience, which was rather noisy at first, settled down within a few minutes (except for two people who annoyingly perused their cell phones) and the music was well received. 

 

This was followed by Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, which was mostly competently played by Bartanan.  There was little of the elegance heard on the composer’s own recording, nor any of the jazzy sizzle one heard from William Kapell.  The main standout from this performance was from within the orchestra, with string pizzicatos played with uncommon clarity and the brass parts brought off with panache. 

 

After returning home, I settled down for a quiet evening with Brownie, as we both slept on the family room floor.  He’s slowly learning to navigate stairs while wearing his cone and patiently taking his post-surgery medications.  He’s a good boy.

 

Saint-Saëns and Berlioz with Lang Lang and Welser-Möst at Severance

For the first time since before the pandemic, Daniel and I encountered a sold-out Severance Hall at this evening’s Cleveland Orchestra concert, featuring guest soloist Lang Lang.  A few days ago, an email from the Orchestra cautioned us that both the hall and parking garage were sold out, so we took Lyft to Severance, which I’m finding to be an increasingly convenient option.  The email also warned that the concert would start promptly at 8pm (it started five minutes late), and that latecomers would not be seated.  The implication was that for numerous attendees this would be their first classical concert- and judging by the behavior of some in the audience, it was.  For example, each movement of both works on the program was vigorously applauded.  There was also obtrusive taking of cell phone photos and videos during the performance, frequent talking, and other noisy behavior.

Earl Wild famously referred to Lang Lang as “the J-Lo of the piano.”  Whatever one thinks of his pianism, musicality, or stage mannerisms, Lang’s presence on the program puts butts into seats – and despite all the talk of artistry, Classical music is also a business.  So, how did Lang play Saint-Saëns’ Piano Concerto in G minor?  Unevenly.  Certainly, there was nothing to fault pianistically in Lang’s performance – he has technique to burn and is happy to remind the audience of that.  As for his stage antics, they were not overly obtrusive from my seat near the back of the main floor – at least until he started loudly stamping his foot during the concerto’s finale. 

It must be pointed out that the construction of this concerto is somewhat unusual.  Instead of the fast, slow, fast arrangement of movements, Saint-Saëns starts with a moderately paced opening movement, a scherzo for the second movement, and a very fast finale.  Lang’s strength was in his pacing of the opening movement, treating the introductory piano solo in a quasi-improvisational manner.  Throughout the movement, Lang paid attention to details voicing, pedaling, and nuance that are often glossed over.  The dramatic episode was not rushed.  Things went downhill during the Scherzo, where Lang took off like a bat out of Hell.  His approach to phrasing was scattershot, and there was a campy, effete manner that was off putting – particularly when he slammed on the breaks and poured on the schmaltz during the lyrical sections.  The finale took off at a great clip and didn’t relent.  Lang brought out some bass notes which are almost never heard.  But the movement didn’t built toward a climax – it was just a race, like a player piano on overdrive.  As for the orchestra’s accompaniment, Welser-Möst ensured they performed with their usual smoothness and stayed out of the soloist’s way – which was an accomplishment in itself.  The pianist performed an encore - a quiet piece which was unfamiliar to me.

 

Lang Lang following the concerto

Following intermission, Welser-Möst returned to conduct Hector Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique.  The program behind this work draws inspiration from Berlioz’s own story.  He fell madly in love with Irish Shakespearean actress Harriet Smithson, who was initially resistant to his charms.  This frustration inspired the somewhat overheated program behind the symphony, in which the protagonist becomes obsessed with the object of his desire, is rebuffed, goes mad, promptly poisons himself with opium, and hallucinates all sorts of things, including seeing her in Hell.  In real life, Smithson gave into the composer’s charms and they eventually married – which turned sour when she gave up her career, which resulted in financial difficulties.  Then, discovering Hector had acquired a mistress, she became an alcoholic.  The two eventually divorced.  The lesson is clear: Be careful what you wish for – you just may get it. But the tale inspired a memorable and oft performed orchestral piece, inventively orchestrated and structurally innovative – with Berlioz’s idée fixe transforming itself throughout the work’s five movements.

The performance tonight was what one would expect from Welser-Möst: brisk tempi, exquisite balancing of sections, immaculate solo work – in particular a gorgeous offstage Oboe solo from Frank Rosenwein – and slavish adherence to repeats: in this case, the repeat during the fourth movement March to the Scaffold.  This repeat simply does not work within the narrative of the symphony – which is, after all, programmatic.  It’s as if the guards, taking the condemned to the guillotine, decide to head back to the jail cell and grab him a last cigarette.  But this is a quibble and the ultimate fault lies with the composer – yes, even geniuses can make mistakes.

 

Chin, Rachmaninoff, and Bartók at Severance

Music of the 20^th and 21^st Centuries was on the program at tonight’s Cleveland Orchestra concert, featuring guest conductor David Afkham and pianist Beatrice Rana. 

The concert began with Unsuk Chin’s subito con forza, composed in 2020 and receiving its first Cleveland performances this weekend.  Creatively orchestrated, it’s a sort of brief fantasia on motifs by Beethoven, with references to the opening bars of that composer’s Coriolan Overture, as well as the dot-dot-dot-dash motif that featured in his Fifth Symphony, Fourth Piano Concerto, and “Appassionata” Sonata.

Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor, Op. 18 followed.  This oft performed and recorded work is open to a variety of interpretations.  Rana’s approach took me back to an earlier era; one of luxuriant tone, reflective pace, and elastic tempi.  In some ways, her playing reminded me of Cliburn and Moiseiwitsch in their primes, yet her interpretation was her own.  Afkham was an ideal accompanist, coaxing an old-school romantic sonority from the orchestra but never letting them overshadow the soloist.  Wonderful to hear.  Rana earned an ovation and rewarded the audience with an encore in the form of a wonderfully pointed and witty rendition of Debussy’s Etude for Eight Fingers without Thumbs.

Following intermission Afkham returned to lead the orchestra in Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra.  Afhkam’ conducting style, sans baton, is unobtrusive.  He brought to the work’s opening measures a sense of quiet mystery before leaping into the movement proper.  The second movement’s Game of Pairs perfectly highlighted each pair of instruments without allowing them to become garish – which is a problem with some recordings, while the third movement’s Elegy sang with eloquence.  The Interrupted Intermezzo’s highlight was the effortless segue between the Hungarian melody and the parody of the jingoistic tune from Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony.  Afhkam then plunged headlong into the work’s finale, and whirlwind of orchestral tapestry.  Throughout the proceedings, no matter how loud the orchestra’s forte, every strand of music was kept in proportion.  In short, a marvelous performance from beginning to end.

There has been considerable discussion over the past several months as music director Franz Welser-Möst announced that he would not be renewing his contract with the orchestra in 2027.  Klaus Mäkelä was briefly speculated on as a possible successor.  He subsequently signed on to lead the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and, frankly, I think Chicago is a better fit for Mäkelä than Cleveland.  But Afkham should be considered by the board.  He has the qualities that would benefit our orchestra.

Milhaud, Gershwin, and Stravinsky at Severance

Music of the 20^th Century was featured at tonight’s Cleveland Orchestra concert, led by guest conductor Klaus Mäkelä with pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet.

The concert began with Darius Milhaud’s Le Bœuf sur le toit (The Ox on the Roof), Op. 58, a set of orchestra pieces based on Brazilian tunes the composer heard when he visited that country in 1917-1919, and later used by Jean Cocteau as a ballet score.  I fell under the charms of the bracingly intoxicating rhythms of Brazil while in a relationship with a Brazilian 30 years ago, who taught me some of the country’s dances.  Mäkelä brought a wonderful sense of elasticity to the raucously congenial work. 

Thibaudet, replacing Yuja Wang, who withdrew from the concert several weeks ago, was the soloist in Gershwin’s Concerto in F.  Thibaudet is a pianist’s pianist – he can seemingly do anything with the instrument.  I’ve never heard the solo part of this work played with such technical finish, refinement, or musicality – details of the work were given the kind of lavish treatment usually accorded to more “legitimate” classical masterpieces.  This raises the question of how to define Gershwin’s oeuvre: Is it Jazz, Classical, or semi-classical (whatever that means)?  It is music suited to the concert hall, and it is good music which has stood the test of time – almost a century’s worth in the case of this concerto.  Mäkelä and the orchestra provided a vigorous accompaniment which, during the louder parts, all but drowned out the pianist.  From my seat at the back of the main floor, there were also some problems with balance within the orchestra – which is not something often encountered at Severance.   

 

Thibaudet following the concerto

Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring, which touched off a riot at its premiere in 1913, has become standard repertoire for most professional orchestras.  Indeed, Stravinsky is the only composer whose complete ballets – as opposed to suites – are routinely played sans dancers and in concert halls today.  Mäkelä, who favors the big gesture (both visual and auditory) over the refined musical point, was made for this piece.  Tempi were on the swift side and details of balance and nuance were swept away in favor of big, bold sonorities and splashes of orchestral color – never less than vibrant, sometimes brutal.  Refinement was abandoned and there was even a miscued bassoon during the latter part of the work.  It was a rock ‘em, sock ‘em orchestral spectacular which brought the audience to its collective feet.    

Mozart and Bruckner at Severance

It was an evening of contrasts at Severance Hall as pianist Garrick Ohlsson strode on stage to play Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat major, K.595 with the Cleveland Orchestra conducted by music director Franz Welser-Möst.  The first surprise was the presence of Ohlsson himself, announced just a few days ago as a substitute for Igor Levit, who had to cancel due to illness.  I’ve seen Ohlsson in concert several times, including twice in Busoni’s massive Piano Concerto – the polar opposite of Mozart’s relatively modest work. 

It was common for years to consider this, Mozart’s last work in the genre, as a sort of valedictory – even autumnal – work, given that it was first performed just nine months before the composer’s death in 1791.  More recent scholarship indicates that the work was mostly written in 1788, set aside while the composer concentrated on other projects, then hastily completed when the opportunity to perform a new concerto arose.  Ohlsson’s performance hit every musical point with grace, beauty, just the right touch of emotion, and, well, musicality.  Particularly impressive was his treatment of ornaments and trills – each placed right where they needed to be.  Welser-Möst and the orchestra provided the ideal accompaniment, with secondary lines in perfect proportion to primary ones – audible, but not obtrusive.  Ohlsson responded to the enthusiastic ovation with an encore: Chopin’s Waltz in C-sharp minor, Op. 64, No. 2 – in a performance replete with washes of color and inner-voices reminiscent of the old-school of Horowitz and Cherkassky. 

A musical mentor from when I was in my 20s used to opine that the “three Bs” of Classical music were not Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms – but Bach, Beethoven, and Bruckner.  Another acquaintance used to describe Brucker’s Symphonies as “nothing but Germanic burping and farting.”  I disagree with both of those sentiments, though I do find some of Bruckner’s works a bit long-winded.  Of his Symphonies, the two most congenial to me are the Fourth and the Seventh.  This concert featured the Fourth (in the 1878-1880 version), which the orchestra will repeat near the composer’s birthplace in Austria in September for Bruckner’s bicentennial.  Welser-Möst’s approach to Bruckner is similar to his way with Beethoven and Brahms: tempos on the slightly brisk side, with an emphasis on proportion between movements and sub-movements.  Despite the repetitiveness within this symphony (almost like proto-minimalism), things never seemed to drag.  As for the orchestra’s playing, it was simply spectacular – particularly the brass section.  I found myself enjoying the work, but my opinion on Brucker’s oeuvre remains much the same: skillfully orchestrated blocks of tone, inhabiting their own sound-world – with very little actual composing or development taking place.  If Brucker were a 20^th Century composer, he would have found his niche in film music.

It's safe to say I heard more music in that five-minute Chopin Waltz than in the 70 minute Bruckner symphony.

Mälkki and Kanneh-Mason at Severance

After last week’s disappointing concert at Severance, it was doubly enjoyable to hear relatively rare classics superbly realized by guest conductor Susanna Mälkki and, making her Cleveland Orchestra debut, pianist Isata Kanneh-Mason.

The concert began with Anton Webern’s orchestration of J. S. Bach’s Ricercare from his Musical Offering, BWV 1079.  The original work, a six voiced fugue based on a bleak theme by King Frederick II of Prussia, did not specify which instrument(s) should be used.  Webern’s orchestration begins starkly and steadily builds to a magnificent ending that could have only come from Bach’s pen.  Mälkki’s conducting provided the steady hand – or perhaps I should state the steady baton – the work required.  

This was followed by the Concerto in A minor by Schumann – Clara Schumann.  Her husband’s Concerto in the same key, written some ten years after the wife’s piece, has always seemed a bit trite and overplayed to me – as beautiful as some of the melodies are.  This work, premiered in 1835, displays both its own influences and provides a look into the future of the concerto genre.  The pianistic influences mainly come from Chopin’s concertos, which were hot off the press when Clara Schumann, still a teenager, was composing this work.  The opening movement, in particular, was resplendent with finger-twisting filigree which could easily be mistaken as coming from the Polish master.  But the work also looks forward, particularly in the duet between piano and cello in the slow movement, which presages a similar approach by Brahms in his Second Piano Concerto – composed over four decades later.  Also, the three movements are joined, as Liszt would do in his Second Piano Concerto, which premiered five years after Schumann’s work.  Kanneh-Mason brought everything that was needed to the work: formidable technique, flowing phrasing, an unerring sense of balance - the best kind of virtuosity.  Mälkki and the orchestra provided the ideal accompaniment – especially the lovely cello playing from principal cellist Mark Kosower.  A very enthusiastic and sustained ovation followed, and Kaneh-Mason responded with a nicely contrasting encore, Gershwin’s Prelude No. 1.

Kanneh-Mason following the concerto

Following intermission, Mälkki returned to conduct Hindemith’s Symphony: Mathis der Maler, composed from material the Hindemith was putting together for an opera of the same name which premiered in 1938 – four years after the Symphony.  The work was composed under trying circumstances, as the composer, living in Germany, was being harassed by the Nazis.  He emigrated to Switzerland in 1938 and to the United States two years later.  The music, inspired by the painter Matthias Grünewald’s struggle for artistic freedom in 16^th Century Germany, is in three movements, each in turn based on a painting by Grünewald: Angelic Concert, Entombment, and The Temptation of Saint Anthony.  What struck me about the music, which I’ve only heard infrequently, was that there was nothing in it to offend anyone in his right mind musically.  Mälkki brought to the performance everything that was missing from last week’s concert: broadness of conception, splendor of tone, a wide dynamic range, a sense of balance and pacing that were just so “right.”  There was spontaneous applause after the opening movement, and numerous curtain calls after the finale.  More important, the audience was the quietest I’ve witnessed since the return to concertizing after the COVID lockdown.    

The paintings by Grünewald

The thread that ran through this program was, simply, oppression.  Bach was virtually ordered to compose a six voice fugue by King Frederick II; Clara Schumann had to put her composing career aside to advocate for her husband’s works, to raise their eight children, and become her husband’s caregiver as he lost his grip on reality; and Hindemith had to flee Nazi persecution.   

Ever since music director Franz Welser-Möst announced he would not be renewing his contract in 2027, there has been much speculation as to his successor.  The orchestra could do much worse than to give Susanna Mälkki serious consideration.

 

 

 

Anderson, Martinů, and Tchaikovsky at Severance

This weekend’s Cleveland Orchestra concerts at Severance Hall combined a US premiere, a local premiere, and a repertoire favorite for a most satisfying program.  The guest conductor was Semyon Bychkov.

The US Premiere was the Symphony No. 2, titled “Prague Panoramas,” by British composer Julian Anderson.  The work was not so much inspired by the city itself, which the composer didn’t visit until after the symphony was completed, but by a series of panoramic photographs taken by Josef Sudek.  The photos are of remarkable clarity, and so is Anderson’s comprehensive orchestration, which featured extensive percussion including a tuned Thai gong, ocean drum, vibraphone, marimba, and numerous types of bells – the latter a poignant reminder that during their occupation of Prague, the Nazis stripped the city of every bell they could find and sent them to Germany to be melted down for ammunition.  The work is more a series of textures and sonorities than a development of themes, and the composer’s approach is too cosmopolitan to confine the work’s inspiration to one city or nation.  It bears further hearing, particularly the central movement in which a desolate sensuality pervaded.  Bychkov, who premiered the symphony in London last year, led an assured, polished performance.  I've never seen Bychkov conduct before; it was a pleasure to observe how he conducted the orchestra and not the audience. 

Josef Sudek's panorama of Prague's Charles Bridge.

The Severance stage, 

showing the extensive orchestration for Anderson's Symphony.

Following intermission, conductor and orchestra were joined by duo pianists Katia and Marielle Labèque – the latter of whom is Bychkov’s wife – for Martinů’s Concerto for Two Pianos.  The work is dissimilar to other works in the genre.  Instead of contrasting passagework, the opening movement features the pianists doubling each other – a considerable challenge in coordination.  The central movement begins with some arresting runs on the pianos before settling into a narcoleptic spell – the sense of disorientation is enhanced by the fact that much of the piano part is written without bar lines.  The finale has an upbeat appeal, and the performance elicited an enthusiastic audience response.  The pianists offered an encore: a new rag-like work by Phillip Glass.

The Labèque sisters following the concerto.

What struck this listener most about Bychkov’s rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Overture Fantasy was its musicality.  The conductor paid unusual attention to the lower levels of dynamics at the beginning – the little crescendos and decrescendos that bring music to life.  This was doubly effective as the fortissimos further into the piece seemed truly shocking.  Juliet’s theme was given an expansive, yet non-schmaltzy treatment.  Tchaikovsky revised the work over a decade’s time until he was satisfied with it.  It was a rare pleasure to hear the work played not as a well-worn warhorse, but as music worthy of respect.    

My review of Rudolf Serkin, The Lost Tapes

My review of Deutsche Grammophon's new issue, a previously unpublished recording of Rudolf Serkin playing Beethoven's Waldstein and Appassionata Sonatas, has been posted.  Click here to read it. 

Rachmaninoff at Blossom with Kochanovsky and Lugansky

 

Daniel and I didn't follow our normal summer concert routine yesterday.  Instead of a leisurely pre-concert dinner at Mexibachi Grill near Blossom Music Center, we joined his family in Lorain for a lovely birthday party before racing to Cuyahoga Falls for last night’s concert.  It's fun to mix things up.  Several weeks ago, as I booked tickets for the concert, I fretted over which seats to get – forgetting the giant video screens that now make such considerations superfluous.  As the concert proceeded, Daniel and I found ourselves looking at the screens more than the stage. 

The Cleveland Orchestra was never considered to be a “Rachmaninoff” orchestra, in contrast to the Philadelphia Orchestra which the composer considered to be the world’s finest.  But Sergei Rachmaninoff had worked with the Cleveland’s first two conductors, Nikolai Sokoloff and Artur Rodziński – and when the former was preparing to make the first-ever recording of Rachmaninoff’s Second Symphony, the composer collaborated with Sokoloff over cuts to the music to fit the work onto the allotted number of 78rpm discs.  Despite dated sonics, the 1928 recording holds up very well.

Fortunately, recording technology and the music world have evolved so that Rachmaninoff’s works are generally performed intact these days.  The opening work on the program, his Third Concerto, was performed complete – as it should be.  Soloist Nikolai Lugansky, making his Cleveland Orchestra debut, delivered a cohesive, well-nigh technically flawless performance – “like butter,” as some would say.  Conceptually, his approach to the work was very much like the composer’s own recording, but a tad more relaxed and, as mentioned, without any disfiguring cuts.  As with the composer and his chosen successor, Vladimir Horowitz, Lugansky chose the faster, quicksilver cadenza.   Conductor Stanislav Kochanovsky, also making his Cleveland Orchestra debut, was with the soloist for every step of the journey – urging the orchestra toward more extroverted playing than is usually heard from them.  At the work’s conclusion, they received an immediate ovation and were recalled several times, with Lugansky furnishing an encore: Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C minor, Op. 23, No. 7.

The Symphony No. 1, which followed intermission, was not as successful.  The heart of the problem lay with the work itself – it’s easily the weakest of the composer’s three Symphonies.  Indeed, the merciless laceration the work received following its premiere in 1897 – with critic César Cui denouncing it as suited to a “conservatory in Hell” and likening it to “the Ten Plagues of Egypt” – sent the composer into a depression so severe that he suffered from a three-year writer’s block which could only be resolved by hypnotherapy.  The work lay forgotten, its score believed to be lost until surfacing in 1945, two years after the composer’s death.  Listening with modern ears and having heard the work numerous times in recordings, it’s obvious it owes much to Tchaikovsky and Borodin in orchestration.  The Dies Irae theme, which is referenced in numerous of Rachmaninoff’s work, is heard constantly throughout – transformed from minor to major – to the point of over-repetition.   Kochanovsky and the orchestra delivered a polished rendition of the work, but audience members were seen leaving the pavilion as it proceeded. 

Yours truly before the concert.

Anxious Bernstein and rushed Shostakovich at Severance

Last night’s Cleveland Orchestra concert at Severance Hall featured guest conductor Rafael Payare in two 20^th Century works that seem equally relevant to our time.

Payare was joined by pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet for Leonard Bernstein’s Symphony No. 2, titled “The Age of Anxiety” after W. H. Auden’s epic poem, which serves as a program for the work.  I know little about the poem, but the Symphony is the work of a young composer filled with ideas, chomping at the bit to put his stamp on the musical world, yet still finding his voice.  In Bernstein’s case, it was a distinctly American voice.  Each of the six movements has its own individual mood and style, from the desolate improvisatory tonality of the Prologue, to the twelve-tone motif of the Dirge, to the jazzy energy of the Masque.   

Thibaudet brought his usual brand of musical virtuosity to the piano part.  His performance enforced my conviction that Thibaudet remains one of our era’s most interesting, eclectic pianists – far more so than the latest stock of competition winners and “influencer” pianists who merely rote out the same standard repertoire.  Payare and the orchestra contributed a performance noted for a burnished quality of tone one does not usually hear in Bernstein’s work, and the performers were greeted with a sustained ovation.

I noticed after intermission that the audience had dwindled from about three-fourths to two-thirds of capacity.  Perhaps the early exit folks were expecting the opening work to sound like something out of West Side Story, which was definitely not the case.   

Payare returned to lead the orchestra in Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony.  The Cleveland Orchestra has a long history with that work, first performing it in 1941 under then-music director Artur Rodziński, who recorded it with the orchestra shortly thereafter.  It has been heard with some regularity since, including a memorable performance led by Stanisław Skrowaczewski.  As a work written under the ominous shadow of Josef Stalin, it seems to equally reflect the current situation in Russia under Vladimir Putin – at a time when artists, journalists, and others unwilling to toe the party line are being disappeared.

Last night’s rendition, more a run-through than a performance, lacked the characteristics that made Skrowaczewski’s performance so memorable.  Tempos in the outer movements were rushed, so that Shostakovich’s opening theme lacked pathos and drama, and the menacing development started off by the piano lacked contrast.  The coda lacked the irony which has become a mainstay of modern Shostakovich interpretation.  Overall, a surfacy affair.