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Photo by Nicholas V. Hall.
At Zankel Hall on the night of Tuesday, June 18th, I had the immense privilege to attend this year’s terrific second of three concerts in the Orchestra of St. Luke’s annual Bach Festival, under the outstanding direction of principal conductor Bernard Labadie.
The event began splendidly with a sterling account of Charles Avison's marvelous Concerto grosso No. 5 in D minor (after Domenico Scarlatti). According to the useful program note by Ryan M. Prendergast:
No surviving Scarlatti work has been identified as Avison's source for the opening Largo movement. For the second rapid Allegro movement, Avison worked from Scarlatti's Keyboard Sonata in C minor, K. 11. The Keyboard Sonata in D minor, K. 41, provided the materials for the Andante moderato movement. The Allegro finale comes from Scarlatti's Keyboard Sonata in D minor, K. 5. In his concerti grossi, Avison did not simply subject a keyboard work to simple instrumentation but instead adapted the material to the new means of expression in an organic and original manner.
The initial movement is serious, even weighty, while the following is energetic, if not sprightly. The third movement is solemn but paradoxically lively, and the finale is the most cheerful and effervescent one.
The brilliant and celebrated violinist, Augustin Hadelich, then entered the stage for an outstanding performance of Francesco Geminiani’s wonderful Concerto Grosso, Op. 5, No. 13, “La Follia” (after Arcangelo Corelli), which is dynamic and intricate, with variations of greater gravity. Prendergast provides more commentary:
During his lifetime, Geminiani composed several sets of concerti grossi, which include various arrangements of sonatas by his teacher Corelli. In his arrangements, Geminiani notably added a viola to the concertino group, providing an expansion of timbres. One of Geminiani's notable projects is his arrangement of Corelli's Twelve Violin Sonatas, Op. 5. The last work of Geminiani's set bears the designation “La Follia,” which refers to a Portuguese dance form that follows a standardized chord progression. The formal scheme of Corelli's sonata and Geminiani's concerto grosso is theme and variations. Like Corelli, Geminiani introduces the basic idea of the chord progression before exploring its possibility in 23 variations.
The ensemble then excellently played the beautiful Fantasia in G Major, BWV 572, of Johann Sebastian Bach, arranged by Labadie, which has a highly elevated quality. The annotator adds:
Also known under the name “Pièce d'Orgue,” the Fantasia in G Major BWV 572, here arranged for orchestra, falls into three distinct sections. Each exhibits Bach's mastery of harmonic maneuvering. The first section makes extensive use of filigree figures in the upper registers, while the second (and longest) section explores musical ideas of more measured and majestic quality. The elaborate passage work returns in the final section, a summation of the harmony of contrasts in the composition overall.
Hadelich returned to close the first half of the evening with an inspired reading of the same composer’s extraordinary Concerto for Violin in G minor, BWV 1056R* (edited by Wilfried Fischer). Prendergast records that, “The first and final movements of the reconstructed Concerto for Violin in G minor survived in the Concerto in F minor, BWV 1056.” And further: “The middleLargomovement served as the opening Sinfonia of Bach's cantata Ich steh' mit einem Fuß im Grabe (‘I stand with one foot in the grave’), BWV 156.” The opening Allegro is stirring and engrossing; the succeeding, very famous, slow movement is magnificent, while the concludingPrestois propulsive—almost breathless—as well as exultant and exciting.
The second part of the concert was comparable in strength, starting with an excellent realization of Labadie’s arrangement of Johann Pachelbel’s absorbing, magisterial Chaconne in E minor, about which the annotator states:
The Chaconne in E minor on this program comes from a collection of six works Pachelbel wrote for organ. Originally cast in F minor, Pachelbel's chaconne demonstrates an elevated style indicative of the composer's later period. As a musical genre, the chaconne is a variation form involving a “ground bass” theme introduced in the lower voices. This theme is repeated throughout the chaconne with contrasting melodic material in the upper voices. The ground bass in the Chaconne in E minor, for example, is a sequence of four descending notes. Over a series of twenty-two variations, Pachelbel permutates this musical idea and its melodic embroidery in an accomplished way. The arrangement here for strings and continuo by Principal Conductor Bernard Labadie echoes the instrumentation of Pachelbel's surviving works for chamber ensembles.
Equally compelling was an exceptional version of Geminiani’s Concerto grosso in F Major, Op. 5, No. 10, in F Major (after Corelli). Prendergast remarks:
Composers like Corelli frequently organized the movements of theirconcerti grossias elaborate suites of Baroque dances. Geminiani's arrangement of theConcerto grossoin F Major Op. 5 No. 10 follows this scheme [ . . . . ]
The piece begins with an imposing Preludio, marked Adagio, which precedes an ebullient Allemande—“traditionally the first dance of a suite like this,” according to Prendergast—anAllegro,and then a grand, sober, but not doleful,Sarabande,aLargo;it ends with two Allegro movements,a vivacious Gavotta and a Giga.
The program proper concluded with a stellar rendition of Bach’s glorious Concerto for Violin in D minor, BWV 1052R* (edited by Fischer), again featuring Hadelich as soloist. The annotator again explains:
Popularized by Felix Mendelssohn in the nineteenth century, the Concerto in D minor, BWV 1052, has its roots in cantata movements written during Bach's early years in Leipzig. Since the score utilizes several melodic devices attributed to string playing, experts have hypothesized an original version for violin soloist.
The initial Allegro is forceful, virtuosic, exhilarating, even dazzling, and the ensuing Adagio is subdued and lyrical, if not without a certain mournfulness. The finale, another Allegro, is exuberant, with an irresistible momentum—like the first movement, it contains a stunning cadenza. Enthusiastic applause elicited a fabulous encore from Hadelich: the same composer’s Andante from his Sonata II, BWV 1003.
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Louis Ozawa and Maggie Siff in Breaking the Story (photo: Joan Marcus) |
Photo by Jennifer Taylor.
At Carnegie Hall’s Stern Auditorium, on the nights of Tuesday and Friday, June 11th and 14th, I had the immense privilege to attend two superb concerts presented by the sterling MET Orchestra, brilliantly led by its extraordinary Music Director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin.
The first program began auspiciously with a laudable realization of Jessie Montgomery’s engaging, beautifully scored Hymn for Everyone from 2021. She has commented that it “is based on a hymn that I wrote in the spring of 2021 that was a reflection on personal and collective challenges happening at the time. I had resisted composing ‘response pieces’ to the pandemic and social-political upheaval and had been experiencing an intense writer’s block. But one day, after a long hike, this hymn just came to me—a rare occurrence.” She added:
I also found that my mom had written a poem called ‘Poem for Everyone.’ I didn’t know she had written it. When I made that discovery, I thought I had to lean into this a little bit more. I’d expand the hymn and make it into sort of a musical tribute. It was a bit of catharsis for me.
And further:
The melody traverses through different orchestral ‘choirs’ and is accompanied by the rest of the ensemble. It is a kind of meditation for orchestra, exploring various washes of color and timbre through each repetition of the melody.
The outstanding soprano Lisette Oropesa then entered the stage to wonderfully perform two excellent works by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
The first was the gorgeous “Vado, ma dove?,” K. 583, a substitute aria written for the 1789 revival of the opera Il burbero di buon cuore written by Spanish composer Vicente Martín y Soler and set to a libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte. About the second piece, “A Berenice … Sol nascente,” K. 70., annotator Harry Haskell explains:
Mozart was just 13 years old when he composed this charming and highly accomplished recitative and aria for the birthday of his well-liked employer, Archbishop Sigismund von Schrattenbach, in Salzburg. (The celebratory music may have been encored in 1772 at the installation of the archbishop’s successor, Hieronymus Colloredo, with whom Mozart would have a more problematic relationship.) “Sol nascente” is what is known as a “licenza,” a laudatory aria appended as a postscript to an existing work—in this case Vologeso, a long-forgotten opera seria by Giuseppe Sarti.
The second half of the event was possibly even more remarkable, consisting of an exceptionally strong reading of Johannes Brahms’s Symphony No. 1 in C Minor, Op. 68, notably described upon its premiere by the eminent critic Eduard Hanslick as “one of the most individual and magnificent works of the symphonic literature.”
The initial movement has a fraught introduction—marked Un poco sostenuto—in which the influence of Ludwig Van Beethoven is unmistakable, while its more dynamic, main body—an Allegro—has a greater intensity although with some more subdued, less agonized passages and concludes quietly. The succeeding Andante sostenuto is gentler in spirit, almost Mozartean at times, contains some of the piece’s loveliest music, and closes softly. The third movement—with a tempo of Un poco allegretto e grazioso—is sunnier in outlook for much of its length, but is not without some urgency, and has a dance-like quality at moments. The finale has another solemn introduction; it leads to an exultant, almost celestial section—alluding to the “Ode to Joy” from Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9–that builds to a somewhat turbulent and rousing ending.
The second evening was even more extraordinary, beginning with an exhilarating account of Richard Wagner’s glorious Overture to his first important opera, The Flying Dutchman. In a useful note for the program, Jay Goodwin provides some background:
When Wagner began work on Der fliegende Holländer (The Flying Dutchman)—the first of his operas to show significant signs of the genius to come—in Paris in 1840, his circumstances left much to be desired. Having fled Riga to escape his many creditors, Wagner and his wife took illegal passage on a ship to London. Storms blew the ship off course, and it temporarily took refuge in the Norwegian fjords. When they finally reached London, the Wagners hastily moved on to Paris, where Richard hoped to arrange a production of his previous opera, Rienzi. The Opéra declined the piece, however, and Wagner scraped by on charity and occasional employment as a copyist and music critic.
Inspired by his tempestuous journey at sea and determined to have an opera produced, Wagner started in on Der fliegende Holländer, based on the legend of a captain doomed to sail the seas for eternity, coming ashore only once every seven years, as punishment for blasphemy. In Wagner’s version, the captain can win redemption only through obtaining the selfless and faithful love of a woman. Though the Opéra also wanted nothing to do with this new work, Wagner was eventually able to have both Rienzi and Der fliegende Holländer performed in Dresden. The earlier opera was quite well received, but Holländer garnered little acclaim. Today, however, it is considered markedly superior to Rienzi and is generally thought to represent the beginning of Wagner’s mature oeuvre.
Equally impressive was a marvelous performance of Erich Leinsdorf’s admirable arrangement of a Suite of amazing music from Claude Debussy’s only opera, Pelléas et Mélisande, adapted from a famous play by the Symbolist dramatist, Maurice Maeterlinck, described by the outstanding literary critic Martin Seymour-Smith as “one of the most oppressive plays ever written.” About the opera, the composer said, “I do not pretend to have discovered everything in Pelléas, but I have tried to trace a path that others may follow, broadening it with individual discoveries which will, perhaps, free dramatic music from the heavy yoke under which it has existed for so long.”
The concert finished astonishingly with a stellar rendition of Béla Bartók’s powerful opera, Bluebeard’s Castle—which has affinities with the music of Debussy and Igor Stravinsky—set to a striking libretto by Béla Balázs—a significant Hungarian intellectual most celebrated today as a major film theorist—and featuring the fine bass-baritone, Christian Van Horn, and the incredible mezzo-soprano, Elina Garanča, who was clothed in a fabulous gown.
The artists were deservedly applauded enthusiastically on both nights.