Category: Seattle

It took Simon Trpceski three encores, but Tuesday’s Meany Hall audience finally got their fill of the young, Macedonian pianist Simon Trpceski. Trpceski was in town as part of the President’s Piano Series. Seattle holds a special place for Trpceski, it was, after all, the location for his North American debut. His fondness for the city was evident in an interview I did with him for Seattle Sound Magazine. “Their [Seattle’s] appreciation and reaction for my art is certainly a great motivation for me.” Given the audience’s response last night, we should expect to see much more of Trpceski in the years to come.

Continue reading “Demonic character and boiling energy”

A little vacation to Seattle afforded me the opportunity to 1) visit my dear friend; 2) check out the Seattle landscape and its associated environs; and 3) hear the always-in-the-news Gerard Schwarz do his thing. To be honest, I was excited to do those things in that order. After having read so many things about the Music Director of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, most of it not very favorable, one can hardly blame me for not being too excited about hearing him and his orchestra go through the motions one more time. But this was going to be different. After all, one doesn’t get to hear a major orchestra put on such an imposing and austere piece as Johann Sebastian Bach’s Mass in B minor. In today’s world of overflowing, post-romantic orchestra rosters, always with at least 100 members down to hecklephone, it would be insane to have an orchestra put 80% of its staff on vacation as only a baroque orchestra is needed. And yet, that is what Schwarz was able to do for his performance of the Mass on Maundy Thursday.

Continue reading There’s always a but

The music of the Twentieth Century echoed through Seattle’s concert halls this weekend. Michael Stern and the Seattle Symphony started the weekend with performances of Edgard Varese’s rarely heard Integrales, Victor Herbert’s equally rare Cello Concerto No.2 and the romantic longing of Rachmaninov’s Symphony No.3. However, the real treat of the weekend was Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem. George Shangrow and his talented, home-grown Orchestra Seattle and Seattle Chamber Singers played the Requiem. By most accounts the piece has not been heard in the Puget Sound for almost thirty years.

Two themes ran through both performances. On the one hand, Varese and Britten were deeply impacted by the carnage of war. Varese was conscripted into the army before he fell ill and made his way to the United States. Similarly, Benjamin Britten was a staunch conscientious objector who crafted his Requiem for the dedication of the rebuilt Coventry Cathedral. Britten also dedicated the piece to four friends who died during World War II. The pessimism and renewal that follows a period of war are found in both pieces.

Conversely, while Britten and Varese were taking music in new directions. Varese exploding harmony and line in favor of “sound masses,” rhythm and timbre and Britten later explored traditional forms in inventive ways, Sergei Rachmaninov and Victor Herbert seemingly clung to the old-fashioned, idioms of the past.

Roughly 60 years separates the earliest work, Herbert’s Cello Concerto No.2 (the earliest work) and the War Requiem (the latest). The separation in time is not obvious. Rachmaninov’s symphony sounds as if it were composed contemporaneously with Herbert’s concerto. In fact, forty years separate the works. Similarly, Varese’s musicial idiom is so jarring that I suspect most listeners would not place the composition at the start of the last century. Britten’s War Requiem is just as elusive.

Herbert’s concerto seems obsolete in comparison to the work of his contemporaries (Debussy, Mahler, and Sibelius). Nonetheless, as evidenced by his almost constant swaying and humming (?), guest cellist Lynn Harrell enjoyed the piece and so did the audience. Harrell luxuriated in the work’s artifice and the audience eagerly joined him on the ride. Rachmaninov’s Symphony No.3, composed less than a decade after Varese’s uncomfortable Integrales, clings to the romantic sentiment that was being jettisoned by composers in Europe and America.

Michael Stern is building a formidable career with the Kansas City Symphony by conducting pieces usually overlooked by larger, more well known orchestras. This year alone, Stern is conducting excerpts from Berg’s Wozzeck, Stephen Dankner’s The Apocalypse of St. John, Lou Harrison’s Concerto for Pipa and String Orchestra and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No.1, Winter Dreams. His recent release on Naxos of Gordon Shi-Wen Chin’s Double Concerto has been favorably reviewed by music critiques.

The collision of red state Missouri and Kansas is an unusual place for new and forgotten classical music to find an audience. It’s a development that should give Seattle pause.

Britten’s War Requiem ties the past and present together. His dissonance is counterbalanced with haunting moods and abundant atmosphere. Britten’s affinity for vocal composition is credited with restoring English operatic and choral tradition. The War Requiem synthesizes all of these traits into a profound piece of music.

Britten juxtaposed the traditional mass for the dead alongside the anti-war poetry of Wilfred Owen. Discord and placidity coexist side by side. Notably, the sheer volume of the forces used and their placement (the boys chorus and chamber organ are off stage) are designed to create a three dimensional musical experience not unlike Stockhausen’s Gruppen.

At a time when our own country is fighting two wars, Britten’s music is as relevant now as it was in 1962 when the world was rebuilding from the catastrophe of the war to end all wars.

Shangrow has a knack for tackling difficult works. In December, he drew out a fine performance of Monteverdi’s forward looking 1610 Vespers. Later this year, he takes on Mahler’s Symphony No.4. Shangrow’s Britten was no different.

For almost ninety minutes, Shangrow had the piece unfold naturally. The Northwest Boy’s Choir was angelic. I sat in the balcony where I was close to the crisp singing of the choir. This may have been a mistake, since I did not get to experience how the choir sounds as it was intended. Shangrow’s tempos were patient. He let the music unfold naturally, allowing the secular and sacred to become one. The performance was satisfying from start to finish, culminating in a mesmerizing Libra me.

The orchestra generated an unexpectedly full and somber sound. I shouldn’t be surprised, Shangrow has nurtured his orchestra building it into one of the better community orchestras in Seattle. At times the brass had balance problems, drowning out the chorus, soloists and the orchestra. The effect was powerful albeit distorted.

Even though this weekend’s performances were dominated by music of the Twentieth Century, Seattle depends (heavily) on the talent of visiting conductors and orchestra’s like Orchestra Seattle to expose audiences to fare different from Brahms and Beethoven. Without George Shangrow’s steady vision of musical possibility, works like the War Requiem would never be heard.

When Michael Stern took the microphone to introduce Integrales he gushed over Seattle’s openness to modern music. Peering out in the Benaroya Hall audience he had to see that there were plenty of empty seats. If he had eyes in the back of his head he would have seen what I saw, restless thumbing of program notes during the Varese. With a little bit of forethought and audience conditioning modern music can work in Seattle.

Modern music need not be relegated to fifteen minutes at the start of program. Shangrow’s Britten proved this.

Some months back, this weekend’s Seattle Symphony concert was dubbed “Love and Tragedy.”  Back in September the program featured two Brahms works – the Tragic Overture and the Symphony No.1.  But, Schoenberg’s Pelleas und Melisande was also on the program.

However, the program has been considerably revised.  First, the Tragic Overture is out.  Perhaps there was too much Brahms.  Taking the place of the overture is Symphonic Fragments from Le Martyre de Saint Sebastien.  Debussy’s  Le Martyre de Saint Sebastien is an odd work of incidental music which includes opera, cantata and orchestral music.  Debussy’s amalgam was both his last attempt at composing for the stage and a flop.  Also jettisoned from the program is Schoenberg’s Pelleas und Melisande.  In its place: Verklarte Nacht.  The piece is one of Schoenberg’s earliest and is probably his most popular.

Verklarte Nacht is a musical setting of Richard Dehmel’s poem.  The poem’s narrative is pretty simple.  A couple is strolling through a forest.  The woman confides in her lover that she is pregnant with the child of another man.  Rather than rejecting her, the woman’s lover graciously embraces the circumstances, promising to make the child his own.

The “love and tragedy” are still there: martyrdom, the love of a woman and a child and the “tragedy” of Brahms difficulty composing his symphony.

For almost twenty years Judith Cohen has been the artistic director of the Governor’s Chamber Music Series. In a parlor off of the main entry of the mansion, musicians from Washington and elsewhere have dazzled packed rooms with performances of familiar classics and new favorites.

In a series of firsts, last night was the first time I had been in the Washington Governor’s Mansion (which, when you consider my work as part of the legislative and political process in Olympia is lamentable), the first time I attended a Governor’s Chamber Music Series concert, and the first time I heard Seattle pianist Judith Cohen perform. In just over an hour, Cohen and her co-performers presented a concert that was more cohesive than I was expecting and well played. Surrounded by the elegance of the Governor’s Mansion it is easy to understand why the Governor’s Chamber Music Series has become so popular.

Cohen was joined by the prominent and much loved George Shangrow. Shangrow has built a reputation in the Northwest and abroad as a fine interpreter of an enormous swath of music. Shangrow has also helped build Orchestra Seattle and the Seattle Chamber Singers. But, Shangrow is also a well regarded pianist who has performed with the likes of the Seattle Symphony and the Kronos Quartet.

It was Shangrow’s ability as a pianist that brought him to Olympia last night. To open the concert, Shangrow and Cohen performed Gershwin’s immediately recognizable Rhapsody in Blue. The version Shangrow and Cohen performed was a reduction, for two pianos, of the orchestral version Gershwin and composer Ferde Grofe assembled when Gershwin was a mere twenty six. The reduced Rhapsody was as enjoyable as the orchestral version audiences are familiar with. The two piano version, and Shangrow and Cohen’s performance portrayed the rhythm and buoyancy of the work in a way the richly orchestrated version sometimes does not.

Gershwin’s most popular piece was a smartly chosen lead in for the rest of the concert. Jackson Berkey, a Juilliard trained musician, composer and pianist for Manheim Steamroller was the focus of the remaining two thirds of the program.

Berkey’s music reminded me of a cross between the Neo-Romantics, John Adams, and Alan Hovhaness. Both Berkey’s Nocturne #22 and his Suite for Two Pianos were fairly tuneful, atmospheric and depended on a sustained feeling of movement and forward motion.

I was surprised by the introspection in Berkey’s Suite for Two Pianos. The suite was commissioned to remember the death of a young woman who was killed by a drunk driver. In Berkey’s explanation, each movement illustrates a different aspect of life. The first movement, “Flying High,” crashes on itself depicting life’s onward march. The second movement, “Rainydark and Firelight” is dark and introspective. Cohen and Berkey’s pianos and fingers ruminated over the unexpected tragedy that too often interferes with life. The final movement, “Fading Memories,” was intentionally loose and inconclusive, ending with whispering chimes.

Last night’s evening of firsts was a delightful change of pace for a city known primarily for politics and bureaucracy. Judith Cohen is doing Washington proud by bringing well played music into the Governor’s Mansion. Any trip to Washington’s capitol should endeavor to include a concert in the Governor’s Mansion in the itinerary.

It seemed appropriate that on a cold night in Seattle, with the longest day of the year coming soon, the Finnish pianist Antii Siirala would be in town for a piano recital at the University of Washington. The recital was the second in the President’s Piano Series.

Siirala, a young, not quite thirty year old pianist, was preceded by a personal message from Finland’s Seattle consulate. The consulate mused about Finland, independence from Russia, and of course Sibelius.  As you would expect, Sibelius was well represented on the program.  Sibelius’ piano music is plentiful but is overshadowed by his popular symphonies and tone poems. However, the Finish composer Kaija Saariaho also figured into the evening’s program.  An absence of Finland’s greatest composer and FInland’s most promising composer from a performance by a Finnish pianist would have been unexplainable. 

Sibelius and Saariaho represent Finnish music at its best. Sibelius’ music is steeped in the nationalism and folklore of Finland. By contrast, Saariaho’s music charts the future of classical music. Closely affiliated with Pierre Boulez’s IRCAM in Paris, Saariaho’s music often deploys electronic sounds and other scientific techniques. While Saariaho’s music might seem sterile it isn’t. Her sound world is shimmering and ethereal. 

Siirala used Sibelius and Saariaho to fill the center of a program bookended by Beethoven’s Op.109 Sonata and Chopin’s Twenty-four Preludes.

Siirala captured the organic beauty of Saariaho’s Ballade. Saariaho’s own comments about the work provide insight. She says “In this short piece I wanted to write music with a melody that grows out of the texture before descending into it again; a work that constantly shifts from a complex multi-layered texture to concentrated single lines and back again.” Siirala’s approach was unforced. The music unfolded naturally under his fingers. He conveyed the work’s driving intensity while also underscoring it’s brittleness.

From Saariaho, the pianist transitioned beautifully, without interruption, to four works for piano by Jean Sibelius. The absence of a break, united Saariaho’s Ballade with Sibelius’ Reverie Op.58 No.1; Scherzino Op.58, No.2; Romance

Op.24, No.2; and a piano transcription of the popular Finlandia.

He gave Finlandia a bold performance. For me, the appeal of the orchestral version of Finlandia is the contrasts between different sections of the orchestra. Siirala’s performance was dramatic, capturing the struggle and triumph of the Fins against the Russians. Siirala filled out his performance of the work with plenty of color and contrast. 

After a break, Siirala came back and performed Chopin’s Twenty-four Preludes. Chopin’s Preludes are one of the finest collections of romantic piano music ever composed. Like the Sibelius and Saariaho pieces in the first half, the preludes are atmospheric pieces. There is a prelude for each key. The preludes conjure up different sensations ranging from melancholy to joy.

Like the composer’s etudes, the preludes are a test of a pianist’s virtuosity. They challenge the dexterity and skill of even the most accomplished pianists. But, unlike the etudes, the preludes are highly emotional. Being able to perform the preludes with technical brilliance and emotional honesty is no easy accomplishment. Siirala made the feat look and sound easy.

Tuesday’s program accentuated Siirala’s ability to explain sometimes abstract musical material with uncompromising technique and a keen appreciation of beauty, emotion and interpretation. Even the Beethoven sonata, which adheres to traditional forms (sonata allegro, scherzo, and theme and variation) is possessed with an indescribable beauty. Siirala’s upward advance through the classical ranks seems undeniable. On a cold, dark night in Seattle, the audience got to hear a young pianist on the rise.

While you could hear two all Brahms concerts at Benaroya Hall this weekend, more adventurous ears might prefer hearing Los Angeles’ Motoko Honda  and Seattle’s Tiffany Lin perform a concert of works for four hands and a new piece for toy piano and melodica arranged for boom box.  The concert is happening this Saturday, 8:00 p.m. at the Good Shepard Center/Chapel Performance Space.   

The program mixes the old with the new. Debussy’s magical impressionistic writing is juxtaposed next to George Crumb’s sometimes percussive Celestial Mechanics. According to Crumb’s website:

“I had long been tempted to try my hand at the four-hand medium, perhaps because I myself have been a passionate four-hand player over the years. The best of the original four-hand music — which includes, of course, those many superb works by Mozart, Schubert, and Brahms — occupies a very special niche in the literature of music.”

Schubert, Brahms and Mozart may have served as Crumb’s foundation, but the composer builds on what has come before with an atmospheric work inspired by four stars with a title borrowed from a French mathematician.

Also on the program is Gyorgy Kurtag’s Jatekok “Games.” Jatekok is a series of on going miniatures, some for piano duo. In the work, Kurtag pays homage to his friends and composers who have preceded him, J.S. Bach among them. The work may be best compared to Bartok’s on set of miniatures Mikrokosmos. The collection of miniatures travels through diverse territory. Some are accessible and lyrical others are rough.

Motoko Honda, one of the two pianists performing on Saturday evening, was born in Japan and began playing the piano at the age of four. When she was eleven, Honda was discovered by Tokiwa Ishibashi and became one of Ms. Ishibashi’s pupils.

Honda went on to receive degrees from Bethany College and the California Institute of Arts. Honda is the founding member of the Los Angeles Piano Unit and is active in the Sound Escape Project.

On her first trip to Seattle, Honda described her thoughts on Saturday’s program and what concertgoers can expect when they hear the duo play.

Zach Carstensen: What do you think about Seattle’s new and experimental music scene?

Motoko Honda: To be honest, I don’t know much since this is my first visit. But I have known great musicians in the area, and I have always wanted to work together with them. So I am very happy and excited that it is finally happening, thanks to my friend Tiffany Lin. I am also very thankful to Chapel Performance Space to give us the opportunity. I know that is always a hard work to keep a space that supports new, experimental, and creative music scene. I am hoping to visit Seattle more often to collaborate with musicians, and to invite them to perform with me here in LA.

ZC: At your concert this Saturday you are performing works for four hands with Tiffany Lin, how did you and Tiffany meet?

MH: I met Tiffany when I went to CalArts-California Institute of the Arts for my MFA. Tiffany was doing BFA in the same Piano and Multi Keyboard Performance Program. I think we both were always the curious and mischievous ones, so we connected on that level.

ZC: Other than Saturday’s concert, what other projects are the two of you working on?

MH: We are planning to perform same programs in different cities in United States, also are going to start working on more contemporary work and commission new pieces with piano in a non-standard approach; prepared, electronics, extended techniques and more. I also am planning to compose music for both of us.

ZC: Speaking of Saturday’s concert, what’s on the program?

MH: “Getting Together with Sticky Labels” is the title of the concert because we have to use lots of them. Except Hungarian Folk Song, everything else is works for 4 hands on 1 piano.

• Six Épigraphes Antiques: Claude Debussy
• Játékok (Games) for four hands: György Kurtág
• Hungarian Folk Song for Toy Piano and Melodica: Arranged by Ferenc Farkas and Tiffany Lin
• Celestial Mechanics, from Makrokosmos Cycle: George Crumb

ZC: One of the pieces is a work for toy piano and boombox, can you say a little something about the piece?

MH: We planned to have something commissioned, but it didn’t work out this time. So we are doing a Hungarian Folk Song, which was originally arranged by Ferenc Farkas for toy piano and melodica. Tiffany arranged it once to toy piano, melodica and boom box, now we’re going to play adaptation of that. Complicated, but fun.

ZC: As a performer, why are you attracted to composers like George Crumb and Gyorgy Kurtag?

MH: When I grew up, I wasn’t supposed to touch the inside of the piano, nor was I supposed to play with my palms and elbows. It was a long journey for me to accept the music I play now. But I still remember the thrill and the fear of reaching into the piano, and excitement to discover that it was always what I was meant to do. Composers like Crumb and Kurtag really turn this playful approach to the piano into an art. Their compositions and indications are precise for the specific effect, and it is exciting to face such demanding, yet playful music, which still keep all of us wondering.

ZC: Where do you think contemporary and experimental music fits in today’s classical music world?

MH: The more I study and perform contemporary and experimental music, the more I don’t see the difference with classical music. It is all new yet all old and done. I hope it fits right in the middle! Once I was asked to give a very contemporary solo performance at wedding when everybody would expect to hear a beautiful classical works. People actually had to listen to me for more than thirty minutes! But people stopped talking, started to listen to dots and spots of notes, silences, it was a beautiful experience. Most of people had never heard such music and they told me, but somehow it was a perfect music for that day. I love creating a concert that challenges audiences to go beyond these boundaries.

ZC: What would you tell someone who has never heard a piece by George Crumb or, for that matter, never heard music composed for toy piano, to expect if they came to your concert?

MH: Be open-minded. Forget all what you think or taught how music should sounds like. “We” are the music after all. Let your body and heart sink into the sounds, be curious, be anxious, and be imaginative. Relax. Music always happens only once. Whatever you feel is true; so let yourself discover the world of music.

By all accounts, pianist Yevgeny Sudbin cuts an unassuming figure. He is  definitely not in the mold of the dominating Russian pianists (and personalities) who have come before him. Though he is cautious of praise, Sudbin has been hailed by critics as an artist who has the potential to be one of the greatest pianists of the 21^st century. Other critics have described the young pianist as having “fingers of steel and a heart of gold.”

Sudbin’s considerable talents may have been lost to the classical music world and the public had his parents not indulged their son’s desire to play the piano. In a 2005 interview with the Daily Telegraph he recalled how he ultimately ended up playing piano.

“Both of my parents are pianists and I grew up hearing them practicing. I really wanted to play. When I was about four or five I was sitting improvising and my mother noticed that I had perfect pitch. She took me to a music teacher and I made rapid progress. I auditioned for the specialist music school in St. Petersburg and was accepted, and from there things went quickly.”

Sudbin participated in his first international competition by the time he was ten, but quickly found himself adapting to new surroundings after his parents fled the Soviet Union for Berlin in 1990.

Fortunately, not even the confines of a refugee shelter could keep the Sudbin from playing the piano. Word spread about the young prodigy and through the generosity of strangers, a piano, albeit a piano in poor condition, appeared for the young artist to use.

Yevgeny Sudbin’s first album, a collection of Scarlatti keyboard sonatas gives indication as to his view of the piano repertoire and why critics have been so want to shower him with praise. “With Scarlatti you could end up just playing the notes” he recounted in an interview with Piano. “I started off being very experimental, but my teacher thought it was over the top.”

In the eyes of critics, Sudbin’s willingness to take chances with the music, in a way challenging the music itself, has imbued his performances with a freshness and spontaneity that some might say is lacking among today’s crop of pianists.

The freshness in his playing, especially as captured on his disk of Tchaikovsky”s and Medtner’s first piano concerto and his recording of the Rachmaninoff second sonata (the two albums I own), are immediately likable. His playing has a distinct improvised feel. Some may prefer a more sterile approach, but I prefer being surprised and even astonished. While other recordings are only good for a listen or two, both albums are regularly in rotation on my iPod.

The Rachmaninoff is nothing short of dynamic. For the recording, Sudbin uses Vladamir Horowitz’s recording of the second sonata. Listening to this fine album and hearing his imaginative account, I get the feeling he is doing more than just playing the notes of the piece but is actively reassessing and even rediscovering the music on the fly.

Sudbin doesn’t stop with the music, the pianist has developed a knack for compiling his own booklet notes. This work he says “brings me closer to the music and I have a chance to study his music away from the keyboard.”
Tomorrow evening, Seattle will get to hear why much of the classical music world has taken such a liking to Yevgeny Sudbin.

A quick post before I take off for D.C.  The Seattle Symphony is continuing its collaboration with the Triple Door.  The Triple Door is juxtaposed next to the Seattle Symphony’s home, Benaroya Hall.  The partnership has developed over the last few years.  The club is one of the regular haunts of the Symphony’s 20’s and 30’s patron group.  Its also conveniently juxtaposed next to Benaroya Hall (the Seattle Symphony’s home). 

On the program – Mendelssohn and Bach (at least). 

As most orchestras struggle with attendance and the demographics of their audience, taking classical music into foreign spaces makes sense.  The Seattle Symphony’s principal cellist thinks so too.

Of course, he’s not the only one.  Cellist Matt Haimovitz, has similar thoughts also.  What is it with these cellists?

I have mixed feelings about efforts to take music to where the people are.  On the one hand I think they are great.  People who wouldn’t ordinarily listen to classical music have a chance to hear some really great music in a place that doesn’t intimidate with formality. 

On the other hand, I worry that people who are hearing Mendelssohn’s Octet, in a jazz club, where the music is sometimes secondary to the activity and socializing in the club, won’t give classical music the attention it requires.  Pleasantness aside, should Mendelssohn and Bach be relegated to background music? 

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