A Whirlwind of Stolen Time

She was more like anything I've ever dreamed of and she was no dream. She waxed elusive hidden in plain sight wearing an exquisite red evening gown with trailing tails which flowed behind her as she entered the stage, bowing and seating herself before the grand piano. She was Valentina Lisitsa, and she was here to play Edvard Grieg's piano concerto. Then she began and time seemed to stand still, yet minutes passed and the beautiful music progressed faster than I would like, for I wanted it to last forever.

Lively passages quickly give way to passionate vibes, as unyielding concentration poured heart and soul into vigorous sequences of splendor. Then came a smile as she gently leaned forward as if contemplating the next measure for measure. Fingers sprightly danced over the keyboard coyly flirting with oboe and cellos, and again the PSO repeats the refrain. Hands now seemed to attack the keyboard for only a quick few notes, then softly silhouetted a sanguine solo sequence.

Fast forward to the end, and my friend exclaims: 'outrageous' meaning it was so magnificent as to go beyond mere description. I agree. Time has stolen itself back again, as the concerto is now over as the audience applauds, and I again have been robbed of the beautiful music from my ears. Yet I'll return to hear again.

After intermission Yan Pascal Tortelier spoke of 'Post-cards,' a term he used for the kind of music to be played, in this case the two compositions were set around the Iberian peninsula adjacent to the Mediterranean Sea. First he discussed 'In the South' by Elgar. I like the aspect he described as 'borrowing time' or the use of Tempo rubato (Italian for: stolen time). The passage accelerates then has to give back at the end and by slowing down. Next he described the scenery along the coast of Italy when discussing Ravel's 'Rapsodie espagnole'. At one point he mentioned the famous English horns of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra which would be heard in this piece. Then he finished his talk by indicating that it was wonderful to be back in Pittsburgh to be conducting this great orchestra.

The first selection this evening was Sidereus, by Osvaldo Golijov co-commissioned by the PSO. I very much liked this new music, and want to hear it again.

An Ode to Joy in Temporal Time

An Ode to Joy that I've been waiting for, and it approached my hearing in temporal time. And that precise placement on the timeline has passed and now it's gone except for the memory, which is divine.

Last weekend's concert with Manfred Honeck and the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra premiered Christopher Theofanidis' "The Gift”. I enjoyed this PSO commissioned piece immensely for the music and this tenor singing.

The composition, based on it's name got me to thinking, with every gift there is also a Giver. In this case the giver was board chairman, Dick Simmons, to whom this piece was dedicated. But in my mind I started thinking more generally as the piece progressed. I thought of a book I read a few years ago called "The Giver" about a boy growing up in some future society where everyone was equal and the same, and there was no individualism. Yet in the story, as there always typically is, one boy finds a way to rebel against this obvious restrictive nature setup in the beginning, restrictive to human and individual desires to excel. They even outlaw 'color' -- no one is allowed to see color as it might make them strive for more. The boy begins by momentarily seeing the color red when an apple is thrown to him. The book goes on and on with his journey to rebel when he and a girl eventually leave this society to the wilderness to rough-it and build their own.

I heard colors and beauty in the composition. I did not read the text or try to hear the words from the tenor, because to me the music is what I came for, and the music is the real base for the conceptualization of beauty. And indeed there was beauty.

Beethoven's symphony number 9 was the masterpiece I came to hear. I enjoyed it fully. Yet this version was an interpretation by Music Director Manfred Honeck. His idea was to use the metronome marks from Beethoven himself. He introduced the idea in a generous introduction to the audience. To me, these introductions are both informative and rewarding, and I always appreciate it when a conductor takes the time to do so. It also lets us see a little of their personalities, which for all the conductors witch have performed with the PSO, is entertaining and a treat in my opinion.

Honeck talked at length about tempo, for which he vehemently stressed in many ways was traditionally slow, and in his portrayal will be faster, adhering to Beethoven's markings. Yet he did briefly delve into a few other changes he was to make. He talked about the 'wording' of the notes and choral parts and how they are accented. For instance the word 'Bruder' (which means Brother) was to be accented on the leading part and then softened at the end. I heard that during the concert. That word is used quite a lot in the 'Ode to Joy'.

I did enjoy the tempo (he got a laugh when he said that the quicker tempo would make for a quicker ending to the concert). I enjoyed it as I always enjoy this concert, and I think either way I would not object. The rhythms and accents were also interesting, to this I did not object.  The tempo, especially for movements 3 & 4 were fast and enjoyable specifically because we could here the difference that he had demonstrated at the beginning, and I could sense that Honeck and the PSO must have spent a lot of time rehearsing for this.

I want to give particular kudos to Angela Meade, soprano, Kelley O'Connor, mezzo-soprano, Anthony Griffey, tenor, Alexander Vinogradov, bass and the Mendelssohn Choir of Pittsburgh for the beautiful vocal and choral parts in the 4th movement. To say that I'm a Beethoven "Ode to Joy" devotee is an understatement, I've heard it so very many times. I think that the first time that someone hears the 4th movement they might not fully appreciate it. Yet after a while it grows on you, then it becomes a part of you.

To me, for the first two movements, I could not sense a difference in the tempo between this version and the so-called 'traditional' versions. The famous second movement is a main-stay, and always brings a smile to my face.

My only complaint was with the first movement, not the tempo, not because it wasn't well performed. There was something wrong that was difficult for me to place my finger on. The best I can say was that perhaps the trumpets in a few spots, even though they were soft, seemed out of place. I wanted to more fully enjoy the strings yet was distracted by the trumpets. Perhaps all the recordings I've heard mix it that way and I'm just used to more strings. Yes, the first is my favorite movement so I want it to be just right. Yet what is 'just right' is certainly objective.

Beyond the mere brocade

Frequent movement all around, with percussion to astound.
Harmonies give light to sound, christening a pluck redound.
Subtle serenade subsists with symphonies and blades.
Yet gentler rhythms spark the nightly shade.
Listen to the flowing holographic chant: it's just been made,
moving over altitudes beyond the mere brocade.
And it's said, that nothing happens,
unless an act can move from here to there, and then we'll trade.

On the stage of Heinz Hall with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra last weekend were three distinctly unique artists with great appeal.

First up, Mason Bates introduces his composition: "Desert Transport contemplates the dynamic Arizona landscape from the high flying perspective of a helicopter. The journey begins in the hubbub of an airport hangar but ultimately takes us to the mystic heights of an Indian cliff dwelling." I remember being immediately drawn to this piece, it pulled me in and kept me anticipating the next pulse of the progression, the movement of the programmatic content in perfect harmony to the musical amalgamation. And thus the little poem up above is my tribute to this marvelous piece of music, and my congratulations to Mr. Bates for being here this season with the PSO, I enjoyed every bit of the new music, especially this one played last weekend.


Next Joshua Bell plays Leonard Bernstein's Serenade for Violin and Orchestra. The ideal of this serenade seemed to aim for a more modern appeal. Yet my anticipation conflicted with the reality of the rendered aspect. It's not that the playing wasn't superb, nor that the constructs and mechanisms weren't well portrayed. I just wasn't in to this composition. Bell was superb, and I detected a hint of dissonance here and there, but I suppose that was the way it was supposed to be. All in all I can't complain, hearing a premier musician with a world class orchestra play a less often played composition, that's what I strive to hear. But the worst part was that Bell didn't come back out on Saturday night and play an encore.

And last but not least, conductor Juanjo Mena provided immediate flavor with his long coat tails, curly long hair and riveting eyes. I read in the program that he has appeared worldwide with so many different orchestras - to me that's not easy to imagine. When conducting he draws your attention with wit and slow concentration, leading the orchestra effectively with unhurried motions. With the Brahms Symphony number three I was drawn as much to his conducting as to the beautiful music.

My friend and I had a discussion of which 'Symphony 3' is better, Beethoven or Brahms. I chose Beethoven and my friend chose Brahms. Then we heard the music, and the way it was played by the PSO made me doubt my decision, the Brahms was wonderful.

Painting at Heinz Hall

Painting on the ground floor at Heinz Hall

A Bach recapitulation with fruitfully expanding experiences

The search for the beauty of classical music is always a never-ending journey filled with fruitfully expanding experiences. One of those threads that keep recurring for me is the notion that I might contemplate the composer with the most brilliant and beauteous music. Shall I choose Mozart or Beethoven or beyond? Yet if I think of Johann Sebastian Bach, I think of Baroque, and believe that it is indeed a nice form filled with pleasing music; but somehow the thought just fades. Yet it is Bach that set the standard, he invented some of the most beautiful music out there, and to listen to it live at Heinz Hall was a special treat, broadening my horizon and reviving the form.

Even Mozart near the end of his career tried to study and use aspects invented by Bach in his music (from "Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart," by Roland Tenschert). Mozart didn't really get to study or hear the wealth of music from Bach before his road to genius was set forth, yet that's the way it was back then, not too many were able to see or hear these compositions. Today it's so easy to access so much music, its almost ironic.

It was a joy to watch Jeannette Sorrell conduct the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and expertly play the beautifully adorned harpsichord that was before her. At first she would conduct facing the orchestra, intently conducting with pursed lips and determination in her eyes; then she would and play the harpsichord standing up, and through it all she seemed to be always smiling, as if hearing and playing and conducting for the umpteenth time was just like the first. Later she would sit and play, especially for Brandenburg Concerto No. 5, the Allegro movements which must be very demanding. It's said that Mozart composed a lot of notes, well I think that perhaps it is Bach that has scribed down quite a few more -- rapid notes translated into her fingers ranging up and down the the dual sets of keyboards in an awesome display.

Using binoculars at a performance like this is indispensable, I could see the aspects of the harpsichord and the each of performer's techniques on each of their respective instruments. I was able to see that this was a Willard Martin made in Pennsylvania like the one in the photo here...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/maestroben/381085381/in/photostream/

I noticed that two separate microphones were mounted above the two harpsichords, respectively, indicating that perhaps they were recording this performance to be replayed next year on wqed.org

Between the #1 and #3 Jeannette Sorrell indicated that "it is with great pleasure to work with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra; that this showcase for the players is a rare event - a treat to listen to all six of the Brandenberg Concertos at once - I hope you enjoy the piece as much as we do."  Interesting the 'as much as we do' - it really did seem like all the musicians truly enjoyed the compositions, especially Jeannette Sorrell. 

Later she indicated that Bach didn't compose all of these concertos at the same time and it is probable that Bach himself never heard them together like this as they require different ensembles of instruments and musicians. She suggested that Bach, through the use of Baroque, wanted to affect the ideal, or move the emotion of the audience.  Interesting, it does have that effect on me, yet when I think of his music, somehow I think the music seems mathematically perfectly composed, as if different threads are interwoven in a perfect amalgamation that affect our inner being in more than a metaphysical sense. So is it science or is in emotional affect? Whatever it is, it's beautiful.

The final concerto was No 2. They saved that for last because it had the largest ensemble of musicians, and of course especially because of the trumpet, oboe, flute and violin, played by George Vosburgh, Cynthia Koledo DeAlmeida, Lorna McGhee and Noah Bendix-Balgley respectively. The trumpet just blows you away with its high tones and the amazing technique from Mr. Vosburgh, I can still hear it in my mind to this day.

My daughter attended the concert with me, here are a few of the things she wrote to me in the margins of my program, and of course they are in French, the language she is currently studying in school.

 J'ai un question pour soi.
Après. Quoi?
J'ai sommeil

Serendipity with Splendor

Keys tap, notes beat, music progresses in regular time sequencing the rhythm of the newfangled composition. Time passes with metronomic regularity, then pauses for a moment reflecting a subtle harmonious serendipity with splendor too beautiful to fully fathom. A heartbeat skips hesitantly, then time doubles down for a measure in several discordant attempts to catch up to the cadence of the time, having fallen out of rhyme. All thoughts scribbled in margins of programs ascribe my impressions as the concert unfolds.

The title of this composition is "The B-Sides," by Mason Bates, and performed by the author along with the PSO and conducted by Leonard Slatkin. The title itself brings to mind the old 45 records, where the front side would normally be the hit song, and the B-side often a less popular song added on the back of the record. Then I thought of one of my favorite bands: The Beatles, who more often than not had singles with hits on both A-side and B-side. One very famous B-side song was Eleanor Rigby, which of course used a classical orchestra as background to the vocals.

More thoughts scribbled in the margins: Mason Bates The B-sides (Five pieces for Orchestra and Electronica) 1. Tapping fingers; strings continuous & flowing; actual broom on a rough surface vertically mounted on the back wall; 2. Swish goes a drunk elephant with slowly meandering delinquent gate; violins extending pitch upward; pink bubbles; ending pitch down as if the elephant is laying down to sleep; 3. Recordings of Gemini capsule communications; echos in the music, ascending, building, and a typewriter with synchro beat; 4&5. deep bass and beat from the electronica; an elliptical conclusion.

Speaking of typewriters, I recently read that Mark Twain purchased his first typewriter (which probably looked like the Remington Sholes and Glidden below) in 1874 for $125. In 1875, he writes in a letter to the Remington company that he is no longer using his typewriter; it corrupts his morals because it makes him want to swear. He gives the infernal machine away, twice. It returns to him each time. And to think that today a manual typewriter can be used as an instrument to perform classical music, will wonders never cease to amaze?

Before intermission Emanuel Ax performs Mozart's Piano Co. No 25, with a long introduction by the PSO including beautiful strings and accents by flute and horns. Ax's performance was superb, and the crisp sounds of the piano and orchestra were perfectly heard by me in the fabulous seat I had at the very center of Heinz Hall.

Every time I hear Mozart's works I think of his playful nature. I just read a book called "Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart," by Roland Tenschert (available at the Carnegie Library Main). Overall it gives a great look into the life of Mozart, which to me seems bitter-sweet, his life was that way, so many disappointments because of his difficulties in finding a suitable position for so long, and when he finally found himself in Vienna, it seemed to end so soon because of the illness that took his young life. Yet through it all he had a great zest and playful nature that shines forth in his music. Even in the examples of his letters to his father his spirit can be seen.

After intermission we hear Prokofiev's Symphony No. 5. According to the composer: "In the fifth Symphony I wanted to sing the praises of the free and happy man - his strength, his generosity and the purity of his soul." Recently I have been re-reading the book Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, and the image of the scenes in the book flashed through my imagination as the music progressed. The first movement to me represented the great and vast Mississippi river. The second movement, sort of a scherzo, represents the mischievous and always dreaming Tom Sawyer. Huck, on the other had, is more pragmatic and definitely could be described with having a 'purity of soul.' He was free and when he and Jim left on the raft, to me the third movement portrayed this vividly. The fourth and final movement seemed to fit quite well the adventures along the river with the King and the Duke.

Another treat this evening: after the performance in the second half of Prokofiev's Symphony No. 5, Leonard Slatkin comes back out and gives an encore -- that's right, a symphony encore. His father, Felix Slatkin, was a gifted violinist and conductor and also did arrangements like the one we heard this evening called Carmin's Hoedown, based on Bizet's Carmen, and also makes use of a familiar barn-dance tune. This evening it was performed wonderfully by the PSO - a beautiful ending to a wonderful concert.

Resonant orotund retorts

Wagner and Verdi's compositions contain no less than an abundance of sonorous effluence affecting the ears with parabolic outbursts which in any other context could be considered excessive. Yet here at Heinz Hall the horns, sounding deeply, bursting forth with resonant orotund retorts, generate only the most profound resonance beyond the articulate orchestral phrases, evoking an emotional feeling like no other. I came here this evening to enjoy the Wagner, and I was swept away not only with his beautiful compositions, but with the Verdi as well. The Mendelssohn Choir of Pittsburgh along with soprano Simona Šaturová and baritone Gregg Baker were the icing on top of the cake.

One thing of particular interest: I noticed four extra horns, looking somewhat like French Horns, yet slightly larger, inverted and facing upwards. After a brief internet search, I discovered that these are likely called the Wagner Tuba (also referred to as the Bayreuth tuba). There were also 4 extra violas, and for several of the scores, a set of four or five additional trumpet players were arrayed in the balconies on either side, producing the most marvelous effect. Some of these trumpets were the very long and produced a different sound indeed. Conductor Manfred Honeck seemed to be in his prime, happily ready and able to conduct one of the premier events of the season. "Das Ring des Nibelungen, Wagner’s epic opera cycle, is the first composition which included the Wagner tuba and was premiered at The Bayreuth Festspielhaus (Bayreuth Festival Theatre) in 1876."

Ever repeated in brevity and glory

I fully enjoyed all three compositions presented by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra on Friday night. The works seemed at times like a falling star, like a meteor in speed and scope, and transience only limited by the duration of this set performance, yet forever extrapolated throughout the brilliance of a universal being, ever to be repeated in brevity and glory.

I was lucky to get a ticket at the last minute as it was sold out. All three works were played extremely well by the PSO and the soloist Denis Matsuev, including his beautifully haunting encore (Friday night). A friend also attended on Sunday afternoon, and emailed me to ask why the one review in the newspaper seemed to be rather harsh. I was surprised. In his words:

"We were at the concert on Sunday afternoon and were blown away by the concert. Particularly by the pianist. We had full close up view of the his facial expressions, keyboard, foot and finger action. His encore was an improv of jazz, Duke Ellington I believe."
"The funny part was when we entered the hall hearing some banter between a male usher and some patrons at the rear doors commenting on the review that they had previously read about this concert. The usher was irate and said if he saw the author he'd punch him in the nose. At intermission we were wondering if the bad review was on the Saturday performance because we thought it could not have been for this one."

Friday's Concert Prelude: Robert B. Moir, Sr. Vice President of Artistic Planning for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, interviewed Music Director Manfred Honeck. Mr. Moir indicated that there would be a sellout full house. "Tonight we have the living embodiment of the great Russian tradition in Denis Matsuev playing the Sergei Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2."

[Then he went on to introduce Manfred Honeck]: "who recently debuted with the New York Philharmonic and the Berlin Philharmonic. Coming up: London Symphony Cleveland Orchestra. His premiers were well received. Tonight we will discuss Beethoven's 7th symphony, your personal favorite."

Honeck: "Beethoven was deaf and was described as basically a grumpy old man. Yet he was an idealist and individualistic. Goethe described him as a talent but utterly untamed [‘His talent astounded me; nevertheless, he unfortunately has an utterly untamed personality, not completely wrong in thinking the world detestable, but hardly making it more pleasant for himself or others by his attitude. Yet he must be shown forgiveness and compassion, for he is losing his hearing, something that affects the musical part of his nature less than the social. He is naturally laconic, and even more so due to his disability.’].

"To loose hearing in your ear as musician, that must be terrible, yet to Beethoven it was a testament. Beethoven would at first ask himself - how can I live, yet he did. When I visited Bonn, I visited the Beethoven museum. There I saw 20 different kinds of ear instruments, which was amazing - how could he compose without hearing? He heard his own music on the inside."

"In 1812 Austria lost battle to Napoleon. It was said that on a personal level Beethoven was not nice, but he had a wonderful soul. He composed this music for the seventh symphony and on the premier the hall was full of wounded soldiers. The 2nd movement, which was repeated at the end, was basically for the wounded soldiers. It could be considered that this music was also a tribute for the many who would leave their lives in the battle against Napoleon."

"Beethoven had in his orchestra the very best musicians, including Louis Spohr. Beethoven was the hero, they respected him. About his Immortal Beloved, we don't know much. Für Elise [which could have been Für Therese] was composed for her. We know that he was secretly in love. How the 7th symphony is connected we don't really know." [Richard Wagner called it ``the apotheosis of the dance"]

"The reactions back then to this symphony were not always nice. The expectations based on his previous works were for melodies or connections to nature as in the 6th, they didn't understand. The symphony brings lots of energy and rhythm (the essence of dance rhythms). "

"The second movement, Allegretto, has a slow rhythm, as if soldiers marching behind a coffin, a misterioso march. In the fourth movement we have the 'craziness,' as crazy as possible, open strings, accents, brutal entertainment. Tonight there is an aspect where I wanted to surprise you."

"Looking at the metronome marks, Beethoven meant the tempo to be quick. Also with this symphony, for the horn it is demanding on the lips. The players with the PSO are the best in the world, it's so fantastic what they can do. During rehearsals I asked if they could save the power a little, and Bill Caballero said they were saving already."

"The third movement has Wiegenlieder (Cradle songs or lullabies). These musicians must have been good fathers."

[In response to a question]: "Beethoven did compose with optimism, a spirit which would never give up. He had a lot to gifts to give."

To introduce the actual concert before the sellout crowd, Honeck spoke of the meteorite that hit parts of Russia, and that in an upcoming concert the PSO will present compositions by two musical meteorites, Wagner and Verdi.

Sárka - bloody well profound!

Šárka from Má Vlast by Bedřich Smetana, now that was pretty bloody well profound! And the anticipation for this intense piece was affably built by guest conductor Michael Francis. With an elegant British accent and witty humour, he described the story behind the Sárka composition. "This will be a most violent and grizzly second half." Its a story of an enraged Šárka, who rebelled at being ruled by men. She swears vengeance on the whole male race for the infidelity of her lover. And of course there is dancing (nicely portrayed musically by the PSO). Šárka intoxicates Ctirad (who just arrived and falls in love) and his men, who fall asleep (musically the bassoon and horns play snoring sounds). Conductor Francis indicated that "The next part the men will not like" -- Sárka summons maidens who kill the men. "She's rather angry" (Audience laughs). "That's our second half. Enjoy." I rather enjoyed the composition. In fact, later when I got home, and while writting these words, I listened to Wolfgang Sawallisch Conduct Šárka on youtube three more times, it's intoxicating.

The whole concert was pleasantly surprising. A beautiful rendition of the Dvořák Violin Concerto was expertly played by soloist Christian Tetzlaff, along with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. It was succinct and lyrical, without words.

Mozart's 40th symphony, with a smaller sized ensemble, was performed with much brevity and wit. These words came to me while listening and enjoying:

Varied are the harried folks delinquent with their time.
Through crystal glass they hustle there, filled with pantomime.
They shuffle and they bustle, along the lobby floor,
Ascending crimson carpet stairs bending with contour,
To balconies near yonder stage with players in their prime.

Semicircle gathering of instruments, beyond the patron seats,
Lushly drawing arc-tangents, to beg with their entreats.
And there I stand, pen in hand, anticipation all around,
Contemplating circumstance of mixing sight with sound.

Oh strand of hair hanging there, what purpose do you serve,
One curl to catch a golden glint, and yet you've got the nerve.
Melody of simple fare, with harmony eclair,
Bode well of fugal interval evolved beyond the flare.

Irrupting contrapuntal chord, symphonic Mozart sound,
Portend a recapitulation, before it's come around.
Harbinger of a rhythmic phrase, complete the rushing tide, a tempest and a gentle lull, inscribe the great divide.

Tiptoe the strings twixt oboe and horn, along a flute tightrope,
Walking with a perilous, dangling isotope.
A minuet of Mozart form, deep base to fill the void,
nestles sweet and rather warm, because it's well deployed.

Finale glides with glorious laughter, racing overhead,
as we perceive an energy, with rhythm quite inbred,
Bows push the final harmony and nothing's left unsaid,
And I content to linger there reviewing every thread.

Heinz Hall Backstage Tour

The PSO invited new subscribers and new donors to a backstage tour, followed by a few selections by PSO Concertmaster Noah Bendix-Balgley accompanied by David Allen Wehr on piano. The first selection was Tartini: Devil's Trill Sonata which they pair will be performing at Carnegie Music Hall in Oakland Tuesday, March 5, 2013 at 7:30 pm. The tour was very interesting, as you can see in the photos. There was a question and answer period afterwards. One person asked "I don't know what honey you dipped your violin in, but it sounded so sweet." Mr. Bendix-Balgley plays on a Lorenzo Ventapane violin, made in Naples in the early 19th century. He explained in answer to one question about why the older violins are best that the artists were at the pinnacle of their trade. Another question delved into the duties of the concertmaster -- my favorite part of his answer: To determine the bowing for all the sections that the string section plays - it's not just random, they are artistically set to bow in the same direction together, and Mr. Bendix Balgley, as the concertmaster, determines the bowing ahead of time - wow that would be time consuming. I asked how the symphony is able to synchronize so well. More on that later.

But soft, what sound in yonder stage springs?

Noseda enters the stage at Heinz Hall and gives a few words to the audience about the upcoming concert. He speaks of De Sabata as a Conductor and specifically about the composition "La Notte di Platon" which was performed this evening. Next Noseda offers praise to the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. He also remarks that the PSO's style is very Italian.

The first selection opens with sweeping sounds and transitions to a slow demure selection with a solo from the principal viola. Then the whole orchestra takes over with the dreamy melody accompanied by mystical twinkling background harmony with harps and percussion. The breezy, airy sounds remind me of the ruins of Rome. The music transitions again through several different styles, march-like, playful, big band, and others. When I see that the English title is "The Night of Plato" I start to understand further the programmatic ideas perhaps intended by the composer.

But soft, the jumble of seemingly disjoint sounds has subsided and a slow passage emerges. Grand horns preview laughter and then a march takes over. The music ramps down as the harp and strings return to the earlier romantic theme. Fade out, and the composition concludes like a peaceful sunset.

Next, Benjamin Hochman performs the solo of the Piano Concerto for Left Hand Alone by Maurice Ravel. My friend thinks Mr. Hochman is right handed based on the way he sometimes holds onto the piano with his right hand while playing with his left. I cannot see Hochman's hand on the keys, but I hear sounds that seem as if they are being played by two hands, and I marvel at exactly how that can be accomplished.

Deep sounds from the woodwinds announce the beginning, as if the arrival of a new day. Daylight appears as other instruments join in. The opening bars of the piano begin - somewhat awkwardly, but as the selections progresses I begin to get into the rhythm which is quite catchy. All in all a very entertaining exercise in left hand only. The audience gave lots of applause, with both hands.
 
After intermission Noseda and the PSO present Aus Italien by Richard Strauss. It starts well, but the first movement does not seem to be in synch. The conductor and the PSO do, however, find their stride in second movement. Here the sound is pure, synchronized and succinct. It seems to me that Strauss borrows from Strauss, taking flourishes or certain passages from some of his other compositions and reusing them here.

Unlike Beethoven, who seems to start small and develops over and over to form a complex entity in his compositions that are beautiful in their workmanship, Richard Strauss seems, at least in this work, to take bits and pieces and tries to weave them together as if into this hybrid work. This is not to say that I do not like this composition -- I do. In the third movement I hear a fragment that perhaps comes from Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks By Richard Strauss. Maybe I'm wrong. Sometimes it is quite easy to place a composer just by listening to a work, I recognize many of the elements that are unique to Strauss. One is the placement of the magical qualities like the harp and percussion in just the way he does. This movement ends slow with pizzicato.

The final movement, Neapolitanisches Volksleben (‘Neapolitan Folk Life’), is based on a melodies that are easily recognizable (by Luigi Denza in 1880). Strauss develops them well in my opinion. As the concert ends, I find myself humming: Funiculì, funiculà, funiculì, funiculà!

Savor Zestfully the Tones

Conductor Gianandrea Noseda, discussing the upcoming PSO concert on WQED-FM, expressed his opinion that the beauty of Dvorák's Symphony No. 7 is not quite as beautiful as No. 8, but is more dramatic, and that within the movements lies a certain amount of passion. It's always interesting to me to hear Noseda's wonderful Italian accent as he speaks live, somehow the words seem more interesting than simply reading them. He went on to discuss with Jim Cunningham his appearance on CNBC and the need to continue investing in culture during difficult economic conditions. The recession in Italy has changed the nature of this funding, shifting away from government to private sponsorship. As he said, this is the way it's typically done in the US, and now becoming a reality in Italy. In his words: "If you like us, help us."

It was thrilling to watch Enrico Dindo play the cello. There was a man who seemed to relish the playing, savor zestfully the tones generated by every gesture and the esteem he placed on the sequence of notes rubbed off on me by emphatically increasing my appetite for the creative composition, for the cello as a solo instrument, and for symphonic music. The expressions on Dindo's face summed up the complete picture.


Dmitri Shostakovich's Cello Concerto No. 2 is an interesting composition to say the least. Over the years I've come to appreciate the composer's works more and more. Each new work I experience I tend to like right away. This was precisely the case with this Cello concerto. Somehow the beat and rhythm compel my interest, to grab me like a hook and drag me into the composition. In fact, I now prefer this cello concerto more than any of the others I've heard, including Elgar, Dvorak and Honegger

It seemed to me to be almost a monumental task to synchronize the solo cello with the orchestra, yet Noseda, the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and Dindo pulled it off with adroit alacrity.

Antonín Dvořák's Symphony No. 7 returns the flavor back to the classical/romantic form which conjures images of what one typically thinks of as being symphonic music. Dvořák has expertly composed a symphony which one might want to listen to over and over. The theme is exactly as described by conductor Noseda: passionate and dramatic. I'd add: gorgeous. The scherzo/third movement is instantly recognizable, and easy to remember, I was humming the melody after the concert.

One more note: after the concerto Enrico Dindo played a wonderful encore...

Here is a performance of the same by Rostropovich - Bach Cello Suite No.1 - Allemande

The Sinfonia, Rondo and Scherzo in Winter

In winter there is no need to hibernate, no need to even slow down, get out and enjoy the warm music at Heinz Hall with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. This evening we were treated to a Sinfonia, a Rondo and a Scherzo.

George Walker's Sinfonia No. 4, "Strands" begins with one fell swoop, one grand note followed by various forms of 'dah da da' as the movement fully commences. A quickly paced, suspenseful and pulsating march proceeds throughout various measures, continuing as if through the fray. A metronomic beat pulses the syncopated rhythm, woven intricately within the harmonious and sometimes dissonant orchestral drama. At various moments I visualize steps, as if quickly approaching. The rhythm and beat are memorable, and I relish in a bit of momentary cello which is fleeting as the orchestra quickly returns to the selection. When it ends there is a standing ovation for the conductor, the PSO and especially for the composer, who is introduced on stage. I am truly impressed with Mr Walker's composition.

Gil Shaham, Violin. Wow, not only is Mr. Shaham great with the Mozart "Turkish" concerto, but he performed a most amazing encore along with the PSO, the most magnificent display of dexterity I can honestly say I've ever seen. The bow moved so fast on the strings I couldn't even imagine what it takes to accomplish such a feat of skill. During his playing he would occasionally step in toward the conductor. At that moment the acoustics and volume of his violin would change because of the different angle, it was an interesting phenomena to witness.

During intermission Mr. Shaham signed autographs. I asked about the encore. He told me it was called "Nihavent Longa" - his arrangement of Turkish folk music which he said dates back to the eleventh century.

Arild Remmereit's conducting exhibits a subtle approach, seemingly never imposing, yet effective in keeping the orchestra in perfect synchronicity. With Symphony No. 1 "Winter Dreams", his conducting style seems apropos, because this symphony is elegant in it's simple melodies, yet not without the 'Allegro' sound that a Tchaikovsky symphony is known for. I think of this composition as a cross between a symphony and his Nutcracker Suites. One can definitely tell it's a symphony, not unlike his others; yet I hear in the simple melodies sounds that are reminiscent of the Nutcracker. At times it is also complex; in the second movement I hear 3 different threads of music intermingle at the same time, not just melody and harmony, but more. The third is a Scherzo, one of my favorite styles, and this is in 3/4 time. Anyone found snoozing will find the final movement as an eye-opener with a magnificent conclusion.

One Basset Clarinet to rule them all

Friday's concert with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra began with Composer of the Year Mason Bates’ Mothership, commissioned and premiered by the YouTube Symphony at the Sydney Opera House. Bates told the audience that his “fast-paced opener imagines the orchestra as a mothership that is 'docked' by several virtuosic soloists.”

My friend Robert was pleasantly surprised. He liked this new music that neither of us had heard before. It was somewhat fast paced, like an action sequence from a film, and of course I could perhaps imagine that the music would indeed be the perfect accompaniment to some science fiction movie with the same programmatic theme, a mothership landing, then taking off again.

Mr Bates himself introduced the piece. Then, and I didn't expect this, he joined the orchestra himself, and operating with an Apple Laptop as his instrument, performed a sort of techno that blended in with the rest of the PSO. To see him tapping on whatever key or input device which gave the beat as if the heart of the mothership as it hovered, was interesting indeed.

PSO Principal Clarinet Michael Rusinek was the featured soloist this past weekend, performing Wolfgang Mozart’s Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra. Listening to WQED-FM radio a few days before, I heard an interview with PSO Music Director Manfred Honeck, and he explained that the original composition by Mozart was actually for that new instrument (at the time), the Basset Clarinet. When Mr Rusinek entered the stage, I finally got a look at the Basset Clarinet. It was larger than the regular clarinet, and contained notes that tended to be lower toward a deeper base end of the scale. I didn't know what to expect, having never heard this instrument before, and I was amazed at the quality of the notes, the pure tones, and the range that Mr Rusinek was able to obtain. The deep base notes were warm and wonderful. My almost immediate reaction was: Why isn't this original version always performed, to me it was much better than with the regular clarinet.

Manfred Honeck explained in the radio interview that the Basset Clarinet was championed by Mozart’s contemporary, virtuoso clarinetist Anton Stadler, that he actually convinced Herr Mozart to write a concerto for this instrument.

One funny thing happened between the first and second movement. Conductor Honeck paused to allow Mr Rusinek to clean his instrument. He hands half the dismantled part to the conductor, who seems slightly befuddled. So as Mr Rusinek cleans with a large handkerchief, Mr Honeck begins to seemingly do the same with his baton. The audience laughs. He then puts it to his ear and points it toward the orchestra as if to listen, and finally uses it as telescope toward the audience. More laughter. It was one of those genuine moments.

It is without hesitation that I wholeheartedly endorse and describe Mr Rusinek's performance as superb. As it is with the best of classical music, when it is at it's best, it is pure, and it is beautiful, and that describes his performance perfectly, the beauty of classical music was brought forth splendidly. Along with a great performance by the orchestra, was one of the best concerto performances that I've heard.

Musicians in cars blaring Tchaikovsky

I've long ago completely wrapped my arms around Symphony No. 4 in F minor by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Something about this music sends chills each time I hear the music. I've several copies on CD that I listen to quite often, especially in my car. Now I'm quite certain that the composer never intended for anyone to listen to his symphonies in the enclosed compartment of a cab, or car or anything of the sort, perhaps never anywhere other than a concert hall. He probably never would have dreamed of such possibilities.

I would listen and when I got to the third movement, as is possible with a stereo system, I would turn up the volume all the way to hear the intricacies (you can't do that with an actual live symphony). Now this is fraught with some degree of subtle danger, as when that movement ends, it does so gradually and softly, and then the fourth and final movement begins quite abruptly. So if you don't remember to turn that volume nob back down again, you are blasted with 137 decibels of Tchaikovsky's grand symphonic version of the Russian folk song: "In the Meadow Stood a Little Birch Tree". I startled myself on several occasions when I first obtained the CD. And of course, being the practical joker that I am, I played that little trick on others, driving in cars getting decibels with musicians.

137 decibels (dB) is the typical Symphonic music peak volume level. I suspect that listening to this symphony over and over hasn't been too good for my ears, but I have to say it's worth it, the power and the energy just get me going and in a great mood every time. There are plenty of other aspects to symphony no. 4 that are also amazing. The second movement is a masterpiece of intricate melodies interwoven with individual instruments spinning webs of glistening intonations set against dramatic pitch.

As Tchaikovsky himself put it: "Thus we see that life is only an everlasting alternation of somber reality and fugitive dreams of happiness." This was in reference to the first movement, with blaring brasses, and a "syncopated shadow-waltz." A beautifully hopeful romantic theme builds, and it is taken over again by this so-called 'fate' with the again blaring brasses. Fate is slowly and methodically drumming in the background. Themes intermingle. Romantic Dreams dwell, again brasses blare above the din. Who wins Tchaikovsky's furtive struggle? Surreptitiously or by stealth, it is Fate that wins. But ultimately, for myself, I am the winner, as I deliriously float in a sea of beautiful symphonic music.

Located in front of a large Christmas tree in the grand lobby several groups of young musicians performed prior to the concert...