A Rosina Is Born

February 20th, 2013

Angela Brower backstage with Nikolay Borchev at the Bavarian State Opera

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: February 20, 2013

MUNICH — Bavarian State Opera this month dusted off (sort of) Ferruccio Soleri’s drab staging of Il barbiere di Siviglia. The Italian actor’s action scheme has devolved in his absence into an unfocused free-for-all, permissive, at its saddest, of impromptu bopping and weaving to Rossini’s tunes by principal members of the cast. Mesa, AZ, mezzo-soprano Angela Brower saved the Feb. 9 performance (sort of) with articulate roulades, cheerful trills and neat messa di voce, embellishing a poised but resolute Rosina. Her star turn here as Nicklausse in 2011 (under the deft leadership of Constantinos Carydis) raced agreeably back to mind. A Glimmerglass Young Artist, Brower joined the Munich company’s Opera Studio in 2008 and the company itself in 2010. (She is pictured with Nikolay Borchev.) Fellow company member Levente Molnár, as Figaro, found chemistry with the mezzo, leading to a comedic highpoint in Dunque io son, tu non m’inganni? Elsewhere he tried too hard theatrically and, though firm of voice, slid through vital Italian consonants. Javier Camarena coped gracefully as Almaviva, a few ungainly fortissimos notwithstanding, but his interpolation of Bésame mucho paid Rossini no compliment. Tiziano Bracci made an entirely-at-home Bartolo, irked on point for A un dottor della mia sorte. More volume to his patter would have been welcome. Ildar Abdrazakov seemed looser than his usual lumbering self, the voice projecting well, but he reduced Basilio to caricature in La calunnia è un venticello and danced obtrusively while the tenor negotiated Cessa di più resistere. Lombard conductor Riccardo Frizza provided unwitty, poorly balanced accompaniment.

Photo © Bayerische Staatsoper

Related posts:
Verdi’s Lady Netrebko
Mélisande as Hotel Clerk
Festive Sides
Don Giovanni Shipped
Widmann’s Opera Babylon

You’re Not the Boss of Me!

February 20th, 2013

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law & Disorder,

 

Our ensemble has recently had friction with its management over weather-related travel concerns. We had concerts scheduled during both Hurricane Sandy and this most recent blizzard in the Northeast, and as both approached, discussed postponing them with our management company. In both instances, they stated that since plane, train, and public transportation travel had been halted, we would need to rent a van and drive to the engagements. They said that due to the nature of our contracts, we would have to make every effort to get there no matter what. We had serious safety concerns about doing this, due to the predicted severity of the storms. In the end, it turned out in both instances that the presenters chose to reschedule the concerts for hopefully sunnier springtime dates, so we did not need to travel after all.

 

I know that our contracts with presenters include an “Act of God” clause, and my question is, who is empowered to make the decision about whether invoking this clause is the right thing to do? The presenter, our management company, or us? What if all three parties do not agree? Can we refuse to travel if we feel conditions are unsafe? Also, our ensemble is a non-profit organization, with the musicians hired as independent contractors. I am concerned that should we ever go ahead and travel to an engagement during bad weather conditions against our better judgment, and should an accident occur, that the individual musicians would have grounds to sue our non-profit for essentially telling them they must go. Would our management company be held responsible at all since they would not allow us to postpone? Help!

 

An “Act of God” clause is purely a creature of contract. It’s the terms of the contract (not God!) that defines what constitutes an “Act of God” and who gets to make the decision as to whether or not to invoke the clause. If the contract merely says something like: “This engagement may be canceled in the event of an Act of God”, it’s fairly meaningless. While I am familiar with lots of artists, managers, and presenters who prefer short and simple contracts, the problem with “short and simple” is that, in cases such as yours, it can also mean “vague and useless.” A good Act of God clause will define what constitutes an Act of God and who can make the determination, as well as address such issues as whether or not deposits need to get returned or engagements re-booked.

In your situation, to determine whether the nature of your contract, in fact, required you to make every effort to get there “no matter what,” I’d need to review your specific contract. However, I can’t image an engagement contract that actually required you to risk personal safely to get to the engagement—especially if planes, trains, and public transportation had all been halted. Even if you had, indeed, signed such a contract, there are always alternatives to risking personal safety merely to comply with a contract—including a legal defense called “impossibility of performance.”

Regardless of what a contract says or doesn’t say, the ultimate decision to cancel or postpone an engagement, whatever the reason, is always yours. Whether you’re canceling or postponing because you feel you cannot travel safely or canceling because you want to pursue a more enticing offer, those decisions are yours to make, not your manager’s.

Similar to Act of God clauses, manager/artist relationships are also defined and determined by contracts. However, unlike Act of God clauses, most state laws impose two legal obligations on all agents and managers which can never be waived or altered by contracts: (1) All managers owe a fiduciary duty to their artists (ie: they must put the artist’s interest above their own) and (2) All managers must follow the instructions and directives of their artists. (There are other obligations, too, but these are the most important.)

Like an attorney, a manager is there to provide advice, counsel, and direction, but not to give orders or commands. Unless a manager is also a producer, the manager works for the artist, not the other way around. Final decisions are always yours to make. Of course, the consequences—including being sued by presenter for breach of contract—are solely yours to bear, as well.

Granted, the manager/artist relationship should always be one of mutual respect, otherwise it doesn’t work for either of you. If a manager feels you are not taking their advice and counsel, and, as a result, you are adversely affecting your career, then the manager may rightly choose to no longer work with you. Likewise, if there comes a point when you believe your manager is putting his or her interest above your own, its time to move on.

As for your liability question, let’s save that for another post. For now, suffice it to say, under our less-than-intuitive legal system, anyone can sue anyone else for just about anything—especially if an artist is injured because you required them to drive in poor weather conditions. Get insurance! Stay tuned.

_________________________________________________________________

For additional information and resources on this and other legal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

__________________________________________________________________

THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

THE REGENERATION GAP

February 19th, 2013

By James Conlon

A few months ago I wrote about two extraordinary projects in Rome that introduce children, from five to eighteen years of age, to opera. Performances of The Magic Flute and Don Giovanni were presented to thousands of young people by two completely separate entities:  the Rome Opera and the Tito Gobbi Foundation. The method I witnessed seemed to me an ideal model for introducing opera through participatory–“interactive” if you like–performances.

In the course of a recent series of concerts in Berlin and tour in Spain with the Deutsches Symphonie Orchester Berlin, I conducted an introductory program for children (ages six to twelve) of Dvořák’s New World Symphony, excellently presented by moderator Christian Schruff. It consisted, naturally, of musical excerpts, and the participation of special guest, Jocelyn B. Smith, a New York born jazz singer who has lived in Berlin for many years, who coached the audience in singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” while explaining its coded meaning. The cost was four euros for children and ten for the adults who accompanied them.

Not long ago I participated in a similar program in Leipzig with the Gewandhaus Orchester: Alexander Zemlinsky’s Die Seejungfrau (The Mermaid) interlaced with Hans Christian Andersen and the composer’s life as a young man in love with Alma Schindler (later Mahler).

We do all this in the United States, and, in many places, we do it well. But what struck me about the success of these European ventures was the depth of commitment on the part of all the participants; musicians, moderator and parents.

Concerts take place on weekends, so families can attend together. Whereas events organized through schools are often excellent, I believe that arts attendance with older members of the family adds a valuable additional context to the experience.  My septuagenarian friend from Berlin brought his granddaughter with him for her eighth birthday. Two musician friends, who had travelled from Cologne, were joined by their twenty-five year-old (!) daughter who studies in Berlin. On the way out, they told me, they had overheard a little boy, who they had guessed to be about five or six, turn to his mother and say (roughly translated): “That was not at all as terrible as I expected!”

This is a tiny example of how things can be turned around in rebuilding a future audience and in maintaining a great tradition. This is one more young person for whom the beautiful world of classical music has possibly been opened, despite the negative preconceptions that surround him and many others.  The point is that Germans have recognized that the process of whetting an appetite for classical music must begin early and may be best accomplished with family participation. Their systematic and broad commitment to reaching children is exemplary and merits our attention.

And what happens when those children are in their twenties and actually want to go to concerts but can’t afford to? Two striking examples I have encountered in as many months have suggested to me that we can also do better on that count.

At La Scala in Milan, I conducted ten performances of Berlioz’ Roméo et Juliette (turned into an opera/ballet), the first of which was part of a series called “Preview.”  The theater was sold out (sold out!), exclusively to an audience under thirty years old. Top age, thirty years; top price, thirty euros.  La Scala has tacitly recognized and addressed the financial challenge to our young people. It is no use only educating the young and then abandoning them when they cannot (yet) afford to buy tickets. The “Preview” model at La Scala is helping them (and us) foster a love for classical music (in this case, opera). These previews are not rarities, but a regular part of La Scala’s season. The low ticket prices are obviously highly successful in drawing an audience. In the U.S. we face the same challenges, but there is no consensus as to how to resolve them.

Once a year at LA Opera we offer two performances in Los Angeles’ Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. Six thousand free tickets are requested each year within hours of the announcement of their availability over the Internet.  This would seem to indicate that “ordinary” people do want to come, and will come, when they can afford to so. It is interesting to note that, though one hears so much talk about how classical music needs a way to “get the message out,” thousands of people do respond within hours when financial obstacles are removed.  This suggests that the message is out—that classical music and opera are things people believe they will enjoy, and when they can afford it, they will come to performances.

The tradition of attending Classical music concerts will have difficulty prevailing, given the many factors mitigating against it, if we don’t abandon, at least temporarily, economic models that may have satisfactorily functioned for the last half century but cannot be expected to do so any longer.

In November I returned to Madrid to conduct the Orquesta Nacional de España. Three subscription concerts were relatively well attended, given the severe economic difficulties at the moment. Given those difficulties, I was struck by the large and very enthusiastic presence of young people in the audience. The Spanish have clearly been effective in developing a young audience that, despite today’s challenges, has integrated concert-going into their lives.

It can be done, and there is hope for all of us in the future.

Blomstedt Blessings

February 17th, 2013

Herbert Blomstedt photographed by Lengemann

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: February 17, 2013

MUNICH — There is a genteel inscrutability about Herbert Blomstedt. Authoritative, tall and silver-haired, he has never cut the profile of a star. But the gaze is probing. Musicians play well for him perhaps out of a sense of being acutely monitored. Two years ago Bayerischer Rundfunk hired the Massachusetts-born, Juilliard-educated Swede, now 85, for a Dvořák Seventh with its flagship Symphonie-Orchester. That was a revelation: the minor-key work played as an engrossing set of assertions and retorts, Victorian shadings and Czech emphases. Much cheered, it soon showed up as a pirate CD. These last two weeks Blomstedt has been back with the BRSO, conducting music associated with him. The Feb. 7 Gasteig program paired Nielsen’s Flute Concerto (1926) with Bruckner’s D-Minor Third Symphony.

Henrik Wiese, one of the orchestra’s two principal flutists, nimbly traced the solo line of the stubbornly jaunty two-movement concerto. Its brief sections of banter with other wind instruments injected droll humor. Blomstedt and the modest orchestra, in unobtrusive support, flexed their way through the Danish composer’s background shades of light and dark. The concluding tempo di marcia section, written last and calibrated to sum up the 18-minute piece, made its witty impact without seeming to try.

By using the symphony’s Urfassung of 1873, Blomstedt cast the work in optimal light, as a snapshot of a composer in transition. (Christian Thielemann and his Munich Philharmonic did the same in 2009; Lorin Maazel in concerts since then has not.) For Bruckner was just settling on what would become his trademark compositional palette and his way of leading the ear with brass motifs. The piece suffers from odd logic and thematic paucity, especially when compared with the less “Brucknerian” yet fully mature and richly argued C-Minor Second Symphony of the previous year (1872). Numerous revisions to the Third never overcame these problems.

The opening trumpet melody over rippling string figures signaled a balanced, restrained performance. Conducting from memory and without visible toil, Blomstedt had apparently set fine dynamic and interpretive details in rehearsal. Wind intonation was exemplary. The Gemäßigt, misterioso first movement, as marked in this version, and the brief Scherzo brought suave playing from the BRSO strings. Blomstedt did not always nudge the pulse in the second-movement Adagio as might his peers in this repertory — fellow octogenarians Stanislaw Skrowaczewski (still busy at 89) and Bernard Haitink (83), along with Thielemann (53) and the versatile Daniel Barenboim (70) — and so Bruckner’s longueurs took their toll, but the conductor’s discipline and his rapport with the musicians compensated. Call it an honest snapshot.

Photo © Martin Lengemann

Related posts:
Blomstedt’s Lucid Bruckner
MPhil Asserts Bruckner Legacy
Bruckner’s First, Twice
Nitrates In the Canapés
Blacher Channels Maupassant

Remembering Ralph

February 14th, 2013

By: Edna Landau

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

In my first column of this year, I listed among my New Year’s resolutions “try to go to at least one concert a month that offers music unfamiliar to me, preferably new music.” Little did I know then how rewarding that would prove to be. On January 10, I received a press release announcing “A Contemporary Evening for Ralph”at Merkin Concert Hall in New York on February 4. I learned that some of the finest new music groups to be heard anywhere were joining together to pay tribute to Ralph Kaminsky, who died at the age of 85 one year ago and who was perhaps one of the greatest advocates of new music that the contemporary music world has ever known. Those groups included the JACK Quartet, Either/Or, Talea Ensemble, International Contemporary Ensemble (ICE), and members of Alarm Will Sound. It promised to be an extraordinary evening and indeed it was. The groups, all of whom donated their services, seemed to be as delighted to all be performing in the same concert as the audience was to hear them. The hall was full and many people were seen embracing one another. Who was this man, I wondered, who brought all of these new music performers and aficionados together?

Ralph Kaminsky was a native of western Canada whose studies were in economics and who subsequently taught at the University of Manitoba and at Yale. After a time, he ventured into urban planning, which took him to various countries around the world. He returned to academia as professor of economics and public administration, and later associate dean, at New York University’s Graduate School of Public Administration, a tenure which lasted 23 years. After his retirement, he devoted the last 20 years of his life to his great passion for contemporary music. Together with his wife Hester Diamond, an authority in visual art and design, he hosted monthly listening sessions in a large music room in their beautiful home, where the guests (many of whom were from outside the music world) were introduced to Ralph’s latest discoveries – young composers and contemporary works that particularly excited him. The sound system was state of the art and all who attended received meticulously prepared programs, complete with notes about the (often cutting-edge) pieces. A lively discussion always followed the concerts. With the exception of some special marathons that were devoted to Wagner’s “Ring”, it was a rare occurrence if any of the music heard at the sessions was written before 1980. As Bruce Hodges, a writer and close friend of Ralph’s, wrote in a beautiful tribute on his blog, Ralph was often heard saying, “I listen to music by composers who are composing, not decomposing.” Sometimes the programs involved live performance, featuring familiar faces from the new music scene. But Ralph didn’t just enjoy new music at home. He regularly went to concerts and supported both the performers and the institutions who presented them. He had no hesitation in writing to major concert presenters in New York City to question why new music didn’t constitute a larger percentage of their concert offerings. At various times he sat on the boards of the American Composers Orchestra, Talea Ensemble, Sospeso Ensemble and eighth blackbird. The Merkin Hall concert program included the following tribute from eighth blackbird: “He was part of our organization before we even had a career, when he graciously opened up his home to us to rehearse for the Young Concert Artists competition. He of course showed us his amazingly ridiculous sound system and his exhaustive music library, but what we remember most is that he sat down and talked with us at length, discussed the New York music scene and new music in great detail, and showed a genuine interest in what we were doing. In short, he cared, at a time when we were unsure of ourselves and what we were doing. It meant a lot.”

It is unlikely that the contemporary music world will ever encounter another individual as single-mindedly dedicated to introducing laymen and music lovers alike to the great composers and new music ensembles of our time, and giving them the tools to personally relate to their music. Alex Lipowski, a close friend of Ralph’s and percussionist with the Talea Ensemble, called him a “trendsetter”. Rather than just lament this great loss, he and other close friends of Ralph’s conceived of the idea of organizing a concert to celebrate his life and jointly planned the event. The production costs were covered by members of the Contemporary Listening Group, many of whom saw one another at the concert for the first time since the last listening session, one and a half years ago. The brilliantly performed program consisted of works that were particularly meaningful to Ralph, including Marc-André Dalbavie’s Fantaisies, which his wife had commissioned for his 80th birthday. Happily, the concert coincided with the announcement of the Ralph Kaminsky Fund for New Music, “which aims to carry on his legacy by encouraging curiosity, exploration and passion for cutting-edge contemporary music through commissioning new works and ensuring their performance.” Ralph Kaminsky never sought the spotlight, but there is no question that he would have heartily endorsed this project and been touched by the superb and loving tribute concert in which so many of his close friends participated. I came to Merkin Hall just to hear a concert, but I left feeling deeply inspired by how much one person’s passion and intense dedication can lastingly affect an entire music community.

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

© Edna Landau 2013

The Philharmonic Spans the World

February 13th, 2013

by Sedgwick Clark

The Warm European Touch

Andris Nelsons is one of the hottest young conductors around. Hailing from Riga, Latvia, he has been music director of the Birmingham Symphony since 2008 and made a splash in March 2011 at Carnegie Hall, substituting on a day’s notice for James Levine in a Boston Symphony performance of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony. He has conducted Turandot and Queen of Spades at the Met in recent years, but he only made his New York Philharmonic debut last season. The orchestra wasted no time in re-engaging him, and last week he led a comfortable program of works by Dvorák, Brahms, and Bartók. There wasn’t a harsh sound to be heard from an orchestra renowned for its assertive style in the not always felicitous acoustic of Avery Fisher Hall. The results, to my ears, were soothing but understated.

Dvorák’s symphonic poem The Noon Witch tells of a mother’s backfiring attempts to calm her child’s noontime tantrums by invoking the reprisal of an evil spirit. The work’s tedious structure is a drawback, but unleashing the New Yorkers’ inherent sense of drama might have driven the narrative ahead to greater effect.

Brahms’s Violin Concerto seemed a mismatch, with Nelsons leading a warm, idiomatic accompaniment to Christian Tetzlaff’s astringent solo. This superb violinist’s sound has troubled me in recent years. Never exactly a cuddly player, his beauty of tone seemed to recede at the same time he traded in his horn rims for contacts. His unappealing, tight-lipped publicity photo in the program all but shouts, “I’d rather be playing Lutoslawski.” Certainly not Brahms.

Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra is meat and potatoes for a virtuoso band like the Philharmonic, and they played magnificently. Still, while savoring the score’s pungent beauty, I wished for more emphasis of Bartók’s pointed Hungarian rhythms and accents – especially the sharp punctuation of timpani throughout.

The Year of the Snake

The Philharmonic’s “new tradition of celebrating the Chinese New Year,” inaugurated on Tuesday (2/12), was a pleasure from first note to last. Conducted by Long Yu, China’s apparent general music director, the orchestra was in flawless fettle, with the strings displaying some of the loveliest legato I’ve heard from them in some time and ideally blended brass.

I’ll leave in-depth comments to those more informed, except to say that Li Huanzhi’s Spring Festival Overture (1955-56) was played to the hilt, with the New Yorkers making the most of the work’s indebtedness to Glinka’s Russlan and Ludmilla Overture. Chen Qigang’s quietly expressive Er Huang for Piano and Orchestra (2009) was played with self-effacing affection by Herbie Hancock. Selections from the Beijing opera The Drunken Concubine, sung by the spectacularly costumed Yan Wang, received perhaps the most warmly committed playing from the Philharmonic. The effervescent Snow Lotus Trio sang three songs to conclude a delightful concert.

Dad, May I Borrow the Car?

February 13th, 2013

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law and Disorder: May we borrow music for an orchestral performance from another organization that purchased this music, but is currently not using it?

When you write that the other organization “purchased this music”, do you mean that they actually purchased all performance rights to the music or merely purchased the score and parts? Did they actually purchase the score and parts or merely rent them?

When it comes to copyrights and performance rights, “physical” possession of an artistic work does not inherently include any rights to the work other than the right to own it and possess it. For example, when you purchase a copy of Harry Potter, you get the right to read it, enjoy it, and place it on your bookshelf. If you like, you can even lend it to a friend or sell your used copy at a flea market. However, purchasing a copy of the book does not give you the right to perform it, interpret it dramatically, make a movie out it, copy and re-print excerpts, or do anything other than enjoy it. Similarly, when you purchase a painting from a gallery, you are purchasing the right to hang it on your wall and enjoy it. Like a book, you can also lend it to a friend or museum, or even re-sell it—but you do not have the right to make copies of it, alter it, post images on your website, use it as your logo, or do anything other than look at it. Those rights must be obtained separately.

Purchasing music works much the same way. The physical ownership of sheet music does not also give you the rights to perform it. Those rights must be obtained separately from the composer or publisher—or, if the composer is a member of a performing rights society (ASCAP, BMI, or SESAC) then you can obtain licenses through the society. So, in your scenario, assuming the other organization purchased the score and parts, then they have the right to loan you the music, but if you want to perform it, then you will need to obtain your own performance rights and licenses. Assuming they only rented the score and parts, then they don’t have the right to loan it to you in the first place. That would be like an illegal sub-let.

Borrowing music is like borrowing a car. First, you have to make sure that the person loaning you the car actually has the right to loan it to you in the first place. (Just because they have the keys, doesn’t mean they own the car.) Second, even if you are allowed to borrow the car, if you want to drive it, you’ll still have to pay for your own gas.

_________________________________________________________________

For additional information and resources on this and other legal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

__________________________________________________________________

THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

Berlin’s Lutosławski Tribute kicks off with Dvořák

February 8th, 2013

By Rebecca Schmid

The Berlin Philharmonic is celebrating the centenary of Lutosławski with several concerts this month. The first of the series on February 7—featuring his Concert for Orchestra—opened appropriately with Anne-Sophie Mutter, who premiered one of his most important works, Chain Two, in 1988. In an interview I conducted two years ago, the violinist recalled how seeing the score triggered a passion for contemporary music which she continues to nurture. Her appearance at the Philharmonie alongside guest conductor Manfred Honeck took an unrelated historic twist with a performance of Dvořák’s Romance in F-minor, although the Czech composer’s innovative integration of folk music can be seen to have foreshadowed composers such as Bartok and Lutosławski. The last violinist to perform this work with the Philharmonic is Carl Flesch, in 1909. As Mutter also explained to me, she considers herself a kind of ‘great-grandchild’ of the legendary violinist given that Flesch taught her mentor Aida Stücki.

The Romance is derived from the slow movement of Dvořák’s String Quartet in F-minor, with a main melody so melting one understands why the composer was tempted to repurpose it. He gives it a short fugal exposition in the orchestra before the violin enters, wrought well by the transparent timbre of the Philharmonic’s strings, although the sound was tense during later fortissimo passages. Mutter brings a crying quality to her high notes which pushed the Romantic emotion to the edge, and struck a mix of strength and fragility in the cantabile lines, yet the tempo was slightly pressed. The pacing was more solid for Dvořák’s Violin Concerto, and the orchestra warmed up to a more communal sound in tutti episodes. Honeck’s conducting remained deferential, if not slightly meek, but clear. Mutter and the orchestra gave the fast opening movement a glowing but icy sheen, while the inner Adagio swooned with more sentimentality. The final Allegro giocoso was the most exciting. Mutter carved out melodies with the sweet but slick tone that has inspired composers from Rihm to Penderecki, and Honeck brought out the folksy rhythms with natural flair.

Folklore plays an equally important role in Lutosławski’s Concert for Orchestra, which effectively established him as a generation’s leading composer in 1950s Poland. Its rigorous yet experimental development of tonality and rich orchestration certainly qualify it as a modernist masterpiece that deserves to be heard more often in concert halls. The instrumentation of his Concert is full of delicious subtlety, such as a piccolo solo that moves through a dissolving circle of fifths above swirling winds and strings in the inner Capriccio. But it is the final Passacaglia, Toccata e Corale that, for this listener, captures Lutosławski’s genius, with a bass line that is passed through monumental brass to the middle of the orchestra before the outer voices come crashing against it. The violins are left with the melody, a remnant of a culture that once was, against a jarring piano chord as the rest of the orchestra dies. Once the music comes back to life, the counterpoint locks into clockwork before dismantling like a cubist painting (I thought of the Czech artist Bohumil Kubista, a member of the New Secession movement), with dark, atmospheric colors that overcome angst with their own sense of order. Honeck led the work with spirit and spontaneity, and the Philharmonic responded with smooth precision.

rebeccaschmid.info

Broadening Your Repertoire Horizons

February 7th, 2013

By: Edna Landau

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

I am extremely grateful to the following individuals whose input was of great assistance in preparing this week’s column: Nadine Asin, Emanuel Ax, Bärli Nugent, Jay Campbell, David Finckel, Ani Kavafian, Jennifer Koh and Lucy Shelton.

Dear Edna:

I have read a number of your blog posts in which you encourage young musicians to incorporate into their programs commissioned works by their contemporaries and unusual repertoire that is deserving of more frequent exposure. With everything I have to do to meet the requirements of my Master’s degree in piano, it is hard to set aside time for researching this. I actually don’t even know where to start. Can you help? —Robin S.

Dear Robin:

Thanks for writing with a question that I expect will be of interest to many of our readers. Since you are still in school, you have considerable resources at your disposal. First and foremost are your teachers. Be sure to share your curiosity about repertoire with them as they will undoubtedly have ideas about works that will suit your musical temperament. If your school has a composition department, that should be your next port of call. Composers are eager to have their music performed and if they haven’t written anything for piano, consider commissioning them. While still at school, they may charge a nominal fee or nothing at all in exchange for getting their music heard. They might also tell you about their friends who may have written for your instrument.  You have also probably seen me write about the importance of going to concerts of music with which you are not familiar. You might hear a ravishing song cycle and discover that the composer also wrote solo piano works or chamber works with piano that you’d love to explore.

Here are some additional suggestions and resources which you might find helpful, both with regard to new and older music:

WEB RESOURCES

  • All music publishers list their catalogues online. Some give you the opportunity to listen to sound clips of particular works (for example, http://www.boosey.com and http://www.schirmer.com).  The Schott Music Corporation’s Project Schott New York features more than seventy new works by over thirty composers, with listening samples and videos embedded in the blog section of the website.
  • School libraries are a great resource. If you can’t physically get to them, many offer a wealth of information online. One example is Yale University’s Irving S. Gilmore Music Library (http://www.library.yale.edu/musiclib) whose website offers a broad variety of useful information.
  • Cellist Jay Campbell finds http://brahms.ircam.fr useful when seeking the comprehensive works of a particular composer, especially for 20th century music and music of today.
  • The website http://www.arkivmusic.com is primarily a source for purchasing recordings but it contains a great deal of information about a large variety of composers and their works, as well as listening samples.
  • Emanuel Ax told me about the Petrucci Music Library, a source for a huge amount of work that is in the public domain and can be accessed on computer for free. (I am told it can even be downloaded to your iPad.) He also told me about Music for the Piano: a Handbook of Concert and Teaching Material from 1580 to 1952 by James Friskin and Irwin Freundlich (Courier Dover Publications, 1973).
  • David Finckel called my attention to Classical Archives which offers a broad scope of works that can be listened to in full. A subscription costs $7.99 a month.

OTHER IDEAS

  • Look at catalogues of great composers to whose music you are drawn to see what they wrote for your instrument.
  • Explore the recordings of great artists of the past on your instrument. They often reveal neglected gems that were frequently played in times gone by.
  • If you have heard of a composer who you think might be of interest to you, they are in all likelihood represented by performances of their works on YouTube.
  • The ASCAP Foundation and BMI both give awards to young composers and have an impressive track record of having recognized gifted young composers before they became famous. The names can be found on their websites.
  • Look at programs from broad ranging and innovative concert series and festivals to be introduced to new works and composers. Don’t limit yourself to solo works. A chamber piece can be very refreshing on an otherwise solo recital program. Take a look, also, at works being performed by artists and ensembles who you admire.
  • Acquainting yourself with composer anniversaries (births and deaths) may draw you to works that you may not know and that may prove interesting to both presenters and audiences alike. A good source for such information is Classical Composers Database.

All of the artists I spoke to in preparing this column weighed in strongly about the responsibility of today’s musician to explore the great heritage of repertoire for their instrument and to become part of the exciting community of new composers writing for it. They emphasized how much easier it is today than it was thirty or more years ago when research could only be done by physically going to a library. Ultimately, an artist should only play repertoire that truly appeals to them and that demonstrates their strengths to the fullest advantage. However, a musician who expends energy in meeting composers and is generally curious about repertoire  is someone who is likely to connect most successfully with fellow musicians, presenters and even record companies, and enjoy the richest and most meaningful experiences throughout their career.

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

© Edna Landau 2013

A Gentle Tchaikovsky Gold Medalist

February 6th, 2013

by Sedgwick Clark

Daniil Trifonov is a diplomat at the keyboard, not a pounder. We’re so used to powerhouse Russian pianists that the slight young man who bounded onstage Tuesday evening for his Carnegie Hall recital debut and proceeded to caress the keys took at least one listener by surprise. Winner of the prestigious Tchaikovsky and Rubinstein competitions, he has the all-powerful Valery Gergiev in his corner and encomiums from several distinguished fellow pianists. He has recorded a Chopin CD for Decca and Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto with Gergiev for the Mariinsky label. A recording contract with Deutsche Grammophon was announced today, beginning with the release of this concert (2/6).

This one-man jury was out in the recital’s first half. As in the case of another of his generation’s pianistic talents of slight build, Yuja Wang, who made her Carnegie Hall recital debut last season, I wondered how wise it is to rush accomplished yet unformed artists into such prominent venues. Scriabin’s Second Sonata didn’t seem ideally arresting for Trifonov’s recital opener, although the heavily Russian audience probably disagreed. And Liszt’s half-hour Sonata in B minor, with which Wang concluded her recital last season, is difficult to make cohere under any circumstances, at any age. Its fireworks are irresistible to young artists, but its dangers are manifold. In my concert experience, Arrau and Brendel conquered it masterfully; under Horowitz it fell apart. Trifonov simply lacked the requisite weight.

The recital’s second half, the Chopin Preludes, was something else. Again and again, one warmed to his light tone and simple, unsentimental, poetic – and eminently satisfying — approach. The little A major Andantino, which many cannot resist personalizing (Arrau is laughable on his Philips recording), was played in a single lambent breath – perfection! The varying moods of the “Raindrop” were superbly rendered. And in the final Prelude in D minor, Trifonov threw caution to the winds with impassioned turbulence.

Undoubtedly an artist to watch.

Deception

Hollywood has never been lacking for howlers, and one of my favorites is in the film Deception (1946), starring Bette Davis, Paul Henried as a cellist she loves, and Claude Rains as a jealous composer named Alexander Hollenius. After a rehearsal for the composer’s new concerto (by Korngold, actually), a reporter asks the cellist to name his favorite contemporary composers, and he replies thoughtfully, “Well, let me see. Stravinsky, when I think of the present. Richard Strauss, when I think of the past. And, of course, Hollenius, who combines the rhythm of today with the melody of the past.”

I was reminded of this line the other day by a press release for an upcoming Decca CD by Nicola Benedetti called “The Silver Violin,” featuring Korngold’s Violin Concerto and numerous short pieces focusing “on the timeless music of the silver screen.” A Gramophone reviewer stated that “Benedetti need not fear comparison with the likes of Shaham, Mutter and Laurent Koscia . . . .” Laurent who? I wonder if the reviewer ever heard of Jascha Heifetz, who gave the work’s premiere in 1947 and whose 1953 RCA recording is still considered peerless by most critics?

Looking Forward

My week’s scheduled concerts (8:00 p.m. unless otherwise noted):

2/7 at 7:30. Avery Fisher Hall. New York Philharmonic/Andris Nelsons; Christian Tetzlaff, violin. Dvorák: The Noon Witch. Brahms: Violin Concerto. Bartók: Concerto for Orchestra.

2/12 at 7:30. Avery Fisher Hall. New York Philharmonic/Long Yu. Chinese New Year Celebration.