Oregon Symphony adds concert to celebrate Portland Japanese Garden's big 5-0

Toru Takemitsu

Details:

Saturday, September 21, 2013 | 7:30 pm
Monday, September 23, 2013 | 8 pm

Carlos Kalmar, conductor

• Sergio Carreno, percussion

• Niel DePonte, percussion

• Jonathan Greeney, percussion

• Luanne Warner Katz, percussion

• Michael Roberts, percussion

 

• Takemitsu: From me flows what you call Time (percussion concerto)

Rimsky-Korsakov: Scheherazade

From the OSO Press Release:

  THE OREGON SYMPHONY TO ADD A MUSICAL BOW

ON THE PORTLAND JAPANESE GARDEN’S 50^th BIRTHDAY PRESENT

 

(PORTLAND, Ore.) –  The Oregon Symphony and the Portland Japanese Garden are teaming up to help make the Garden’s 50^th birthday as big as it deserves to be.

 

To honor the Portland Japanese Garden’s 50^th Anniversary, the Oregon Symphony and Music Director Carlos Kalmar programmed a very special concert to open the 2013/14 Classical Concert season.  The concert features a percussion concerto, From me flows what you call Time, by Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu, as well as Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade based on Eastern-inspired tales from One Thousand and One Nights.

 

Unlike the explosive sound often associated with a percussion concerto, Takemitsu’s piece is delicate and quiet, much like a walk in the Garden itself.  The Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall will also look a little different with colorful ribbons extended from the stage into the upper seating areas where they are connected to chimes activated by one of the five percussion artists on stage.

 

Portland Japanese Garden CEO Stephen Bloom voiced his appreciation of the musical celebration:  “We sincerely appreciate the Symphony’s recognition of this important milestone.  We thank them, and we look forward to doing a bit of cross-pollination of our mutual audiences.”

 

The Portland Japanese Garden, founded in 1963, is the most authentic Japanese garden outside of Japan. Situated on 5.5 acres in the scenic West Hills of Portland, and featuring five traditional garden styles, the Portland Japanese Garden is open year-round to nearly 250,000 visitors per year. The purpose of the Portland Japanese Garden is to create, maintain, improve, and administer an authentic, world-class Japanese garden in the city of Portland and to offer compatible educational, cultural, artistic, horticultural, environmental, and charitable activities. For more information, visit japanesegarden.com.

Götterdämerung brings the world, Ring Cycle to a close

Alwyn Mellor (Brünnhilde) and Stephanie Blythe (Waltraute).

  © Alan Alabastro photo

The apocalyptic finale of the first of three performances of Wagner's Ring cycle took place on Friday, August 9 by the Seattle Opera at McCaw Hall as the curtain raised on Götterdämerung.   Sparks flew, relationships crumble and worlds ended, yet somehow the sensation was not as satisfying as I expected.

There were certainly some fine performances; Stefan Vinke's Siegfried was as carefree and naive as ever, and Lori Phillips' Brűnnhilde gave an excellent example of the old 'hell hath no fury' saw, though vocally at times she had difficulty cutting through the dense orchestration. Stephanie Blythe did double duty as the second Norn and a spectacular Waltraute. Daniel Sumegi was a suitably spiteful as Hagen. Markus Brűck as Gunther and Wendy Bryn Harmer as Gutrune were less convincing; vocally Bruck was not as powerful as one would like, and the portrayal at times fell flat. Perhaps it is the nature of the characters, but Gutrune and Gunther were the least emotionally engaging.

 Jennifer Zetlan (Woglinde), Cecelia Hall (Wellgunde), 

Renée Tatum (Flosshilde), and Stefan Vinke (Siegfried).

© Elise Bakketun photo

Some highlights included the delightful idyll wherein the Rhine Daughters almost convince Siegfried to return the ring to them. Jennifer Zetlan, Renee Tatum and Cecelia Hall displayed a spectacular unanimity of timbre and as perfect a blend of sound as one could want. They seemed to be a wilder sort of creature than the other gods and quasi-gods; more akin to Erda or Loge in character, as befits their stature as incarnations of nature. Brűnnhilde's wrath at Siegfried's unwitting betrayal was as frightful in its way as Alberich's or Wotan's imprecations from earlier in the cycle.

It was nice to hear a chorus, and it was particularly well-done; the crowd of soldiers seemed to grow onstage organically as Hagen summoned them, and by the time the large, lusty chorus was there it was great fun to hear them go at it.  Some of the other blocking at times was distracting; Hagen did an awful lot of standing around or slowly walking back and forth without any seeming purpose.

It was difficult to suss out whether it was the performers who were tired, though those who had been onstage for several nights still felt largely energetic, or whether the emotional highpoint of the drama seemed to have been reached in Siegfried; while there is some great music in the final installment of the tetralogy, from a dramatic standpoint it seemed in large part to exist to tie up the loose ends. Since this is my first Ring cycle it is difficult to say with surety wherein the letdown lay but I can say that Götterdämerung was far and away my least favorite of the four.  At the end, it ultimately seemed that the gods got what they deserved. The immolation was cleverly portrayed, and the sets again deserve high praise; Gunther's magnificently carven halls were a beautiful contrast with the rest of the sets, and served well to illuminate the final conflagration.

It has been a spectacular experience, and somewhat emotionally exhausting. There is a curious sort of post-Ring depression; by the time Sunday night rolled around it seemed odd not to have four or five hours of incredible musical drama to attend. One thing that is certain: this first Ring will definitely not be my last.

Stephen Paulus - composer in a coma for the past month

Musical America (subscription only) reported that American composer Stephen Paulus has been in a coma for the past month. Paulus, age 63, suffered a massive stroke on July 4th. He has composed over 500 works and is known primarily for his operas and choral pieces. He achieved much acclaim for his 1982 opera "The Postman Always Rings Twice," which is one of several operas he has written for the Opera Theatre of St. Louis. Paulus's website notes that scheduled concerts of Paulus's music are moving forward with a "premiere of “A Refined Reflection”, commissioned by organist Caron Farmer to be a lyrical second movement for Baronian Suite, which was named in honor of Pipedreams® host Michael Barone. She is scheduled to perform the work at a recital in Michigan on August 14th."

Wotan boulder in Northern California

A week ago, my wife and I visited the Lava Beds National Monument in Northern California (about 45 miles south of Kalamath Falls, Oregon) when we saw this boulder. The image of Wotan, complete with eye-patch, is remarkable!

Stefan Vinke: truly heroic in Seattle Opera's 'Siegfried'

Wagner’s Siegfried; Dennis Petersen (Mime), Stefan Vinke (Siegfried). © Elise Bakketun photo

The indomitable hero Siegfried may not know the meaning of fear, but the opening of Seattle Opera's Siegfried had one critic huddled in his seat, shivering with apprehension before the curtain was ever drawn. Rumbling sinuously out from the depths of the world it seemed, Fafner the Dragon's leitmotif on the contrabass tuba began this the third installment of Wagner's Der Ring Des Nibelungen.

Stefan Vinke, in his SO debut in the title role, was actually a little hard to like at first. So hard, in fact, that I didn't realize it was by design until later. This boorish, ignorant young man, besotted by the hubris of youth, rattled along in quasi-parlando fashion at first, braying about his hatred for his guardian Mime (Dennis Petersen), the only other person he has ever known. As he brings The Bear (JC Casiano) onstage to bully the hapless dwarf in hilarious fashion, again there was a bit of schadenfreude in the laughter, making it all the more enjoyable. Why do we laugh so to see poor Mime tormented, wretch though he is, in Das Rheingold and now in this?

Wagner’s Siegfried; Dennis Petersen (Mime).© Elise Bakketun photo

Petersen's portrayal of Mime, and the duality of the relationship with Siegfried, was fascinating to behold. Not only was Petersen's voice marvelous, his diction impeccable and precise, but, despite the fact that he is ultimately planning to kill Siegfried, and the fact that Siegfried himself wouldn't cry to see Mime go the way of the dodo, he and Vinke show that there is a curious intimacy between them, for all of Siegfried's berating and bullying. These two men as actors show that, though their characters can't stand one another, damned if they aren't (for the time being) stuck with one another, and that has forged a curious bond, an unwanted yet at times adorable tenderness in spite of both their ultimate intentions.   Greer Grimsley returns in Wotan's disguise of The Wanderer to further his ambitions as to his progeny; there is a palpable,  rising tension in his and Mime's exchange of riddles that culminates in the gnome's being let off the hook. Of special note too in this act was the duet-like connection between Mime and the bassoon; delicious to hear. When Siegfried forges Nothung again Vinke sings this with such effortless power, such vivacity and ease that it was electrifying, positively riveting. An absolutely incredible display of musicality and vocal prowess; his rave reviews from last year's Covent Garden Ring were no fluke.

The creeping sense of dread that accompanies Fafner's leitmotif returned in even stronger fashion as the second act opened...such a visceral, visually evocative sensation long before we ever see the dragon. Richard Paul Fink returned as Alberich and he and Grimsley engaged in a duet filled with believable tension and hatred as they spoke of their competing claims as to the outcome of Siegfried's coming confrontation with Fafner, though we are left wondering why the Wanderer is (seemingly) so unconcerned as to what happens if Alberich gains control of the Ring and makes good on his promise to storm Valhalla with the armies of Hella.

Wagner’s Siegfried; Stefan Vinke (Siegfried) and Fafner. © Alan Alabastro photo

Siegfried's attempt to convince the dizzyingly coloratura Forest Bird (Jennifer Zetlan) to speak to him again was again one of the many moments of levity sprinkled throughout, and we are tempted to forget for a moment (as does Siegfried) the lurking menace of the dragon so near, which reminds us again that, though Siegfried is fearless, we are not.  As the gruesome beast finally rears its head in a beautiful piece of stagecraft, an impressive and draconian image with sprawling leathern wings, hoary head and snake-like coils, there is still a sense of humanity there--Fafner (Daniel Sumegi) is somehow visible through the Tarnhelm's disguise. After he kills the beast, and Mime shortly afterward, Siegfried's strange tenderness toward both his slain foes shows that he does in fact know something of love, though he is not aware of it. By this point the brash youth has surely won our affection.

Wagner’s Siegfried; Lucille Beer (Erda), Greer Grimsley (Wotan).© Alan Alabastro photo

Lucille Beer as Erda is summoned by The Wanderer, and sings her role in a mellifluous, incredibly resonant contralto. She and  Grimsley engage in a slow, strange dance, elegant though dilatory like the ponderous movement of techtonic plates, and the feeling is heightened by the ruddy hue of the ancient setting in which they dance. Beer displays without questions Erda's qualities, having all the bearing of a deeper and older spirit than even Wotan himself. When Wotan is defied and ultimately overcome by Siegfried, The Wanderer's strangely calm acceptance of the eventual outcome reveals that, ultimately, none of this is much of a surprise to him.

Lori Phillips, no stranger to SO audiences, covered the role of Brünnhilde as Alwyn Mellor was ill. But as soon as she opened her mouth for 'Heil dir, Sonne!' it was clear that there would be nothing wanting from her vocal performance. The closing moments as Siegfried convinces the reluctant once-goddess that she must indeed love him as he does her are compelling; is she afraid in a sort of Oedipus-by-proxy complex as his aunt, or is it awakening to the newfound realities of her mortality that frightens her so? Phillips doesn't answer that, but the dawning reality of her love for Siegfried makes the question moot.

Two-buck CD sale at Michael Karman's

Many people know Michael Karman. He's the quiet, unassuming fellow who helps Michael Parsons (Mr. Opus 99) sell recordings at concert venues like the Schnitz and Kaul Auditorium. What people might not know is that Karman is an expert on new music and is the mastermind by Asymmetry Music Magazine and that he often travels to Europe in order to cover new music concert. Because of his all-consuming passion to attend even more concerts in Europe, Karman plans to move to Spain in September where he will set up his base of operations. In preparation for this move, Karman is offering a lot of his CDs for sale - at $2 for each CD. That means, for example, that an opera that has 3 discs goes for a mere $6. I purchased a short stack of recordings and there are plenty more left. The photo above shows only a sample of what Karman has. If you are interested, you can contact him via email at michaelkarman@gmail.com or give him a ring at 347-863-2954. Maybe you can put a dent in his collection. Even if he can sell everything that he would like to sell, Karman still intends to take 2,000 CDs with him to Spain. Ole!

The Drama continues with Seattle Opera’s epic Die Walküre

Wagner’s Die Walküre, Greer Grimsley (Wotan).
DOWNLOAD © Alan Alabastro photo

The murmuring ebb and flow, the ceaseless  foreboding suppuration of the orchestra held the audience riveted and hinted at the sea, but it was not the earthly sea--it was the sea of events set in motion by Wotan's terrible will as the curtain raised for Seattle Opera's Die Walküre, the second chapter of Wagner's great tetralogy being performed on Monday August 5 at the McCaw Hall in Seattle.

A word must be said about Thomas Lynch's fantastic set design.  The primeval forest in which Sieglinde and Hunding's hut is set immediately impels the viewer into the universe unfolding before them...the titanic tree branching through the dwelling like Yggdrasil, the ancient, darkling woods into which the stage recesses...without exception Lynch's sets have been key to creating the suspension of disbelief necessary to become engrossed in this apocalyptic story.

Wagner’s Die Walküre, Alwyn Mellor (Brünnhilde), Greer Grimsley (Wotan).
DOWNLOAD © Elise Bakketun photo

Stuart Skelton's feisty, fiercely intent  Siegmund was well met by Margaret Jane Wray's trembling though brave Sieglinde. There is never any doubt for a second, from the moment she lays eyes on his sleeping form at the hearth, that theirs is an unbreakably magnetic attraction--indeed it is something far beyond their control. Skelton's and Wray's interactions are completely convincing. And vocally they are spectacular...as Siegmund cries out his father's name "Wälse!",  his note was held for so long, with such heldentenor power, purity and surety that my breath caught and everything else was forgotten but this incredible moment of sound and myth.  Of special note was Wray's lower register--incredible and magisterial, imminently audible no matter the volume of the orchestra. Andrea Silvestrelli's basso, something I remarked upon as he sang Fasolt in Rheingold, was if anything in even finer form as the bestial Hunding; so rolling, thunderous and penetrating at these Stygian depths that it was frankly astonishing.

Peter Kaczorowski's lighting was key to making the spring love scene between Sieglinde and Siegmund so believable--as the blessed sun thunders into the hut and their love begins to bloom, it is a striking and deeply symbolic contrast between the dim, gloomy depths of despair in which Sieglinde exists with Hunding, and as the light slowly dawns so does their love, and their realization of their kinship.

Wagner’s Die Walküre, Stuart Skelton (Siegmund), Greer Grimsley (Wotan).
DOWNLOAD © Elise Bakketun photo

Grimsley's Wotan reveals himself to be many things in Die Walküre,  and at first is an earthly approachability, convincing us that he is merely a husband being subject to a wife's wroth.  But Fricka is unlike an earthly wife. Stephanie Blythe's peregrination from rage to sorrow, pleading to iron and undefiable sternness is the only thing that allows one to make sense of Wotan's decision to send his own spider web of plans into wrack and ruin...it is less for love of Fricka than in deference to her implacable certitude. Grimsley makes us truly sad for Wotan---such lyricism and softness as he tries to convince himself and Fricka of the necessity of following through with the path that has been set, though it seems he knows even to himself that his pleas will be fruitless. When he finally invokes his own curse, praying for his own death, we understand why.

Wagner’s Die Walküre, Luretta Bybee (Schwertleite), Sarah Heltzel (Siegrune), Jessica Klein (Helmwige), Margaret Jane Wray (Sieglinde), Alwyn Mellor (Brünnhilde).

Wray's portrayal of Sieglinde's anguish is so believable as to almost be uncomfortable to behold as she tries to persuade Siegmund to leave her.  Alwyn Mellor, in her SO debut as Brünnhilde, is compelling as an actress, and as she wrestles with deciding whether or not to defy Wotan her volume becomes so low at points that there was positively no sound in the hall...everything hung upon her every note. The final duel between Siegmund and Hunding was a bit underwhelming when it arrived--not terribly convincing, and the "lightning flashes" throughout seemed unfortunately more like strobes than lightning, minor asides that distracted somewhat from the overall verisimilitude.

The epic ride of the Valkyries too, while musically spectacular, left something to be desired from a set standpoint. Given all the grace and aerobatics granted the Rhine Daughters in Das Rheingold, it seems like something more could be had from this set in the way of blocking. Still the monolith upon which these lusty sisters congregated was magnificent and imposing, and the laugh-out-loud merriment and mirth with which they transported the corpses (and parts of corpses) of the fallen warriors to Valhalla was great fun to watch.

The final sorrow between  the defiant Brünnhilde and her anguished father showcased the spectacular upper registers of Grimsley's baritone, and revealed a sometimes too-quiet lower range from Mellor--her voice was entirely swallowed by the orchestra at key moments. As she further exposes Wotan's fallacious reasoning,  in a sense continuing the castigation that Fricka began in the first scene, Grimsley shows Wotan's dimming furor and growing anguish and Mellor's performance forces us to beg the question: is Wotan really caught in a web of his own design, or does he ultimately choose to be there?  The fiery mountain was beautiful and ominous to watch as this chapter came to a close.

Seattle Opera's Das Rheingold thrills a nascent Wagner fan

A Critic's First Ring

 As a critic and audience member, I've been to many dozens of operas over the years; I've even performed in an opera (I was a singing waiter in 12 performances of Offenbach's La Vie Parisienne by a small opera company in the early 90s.) So while I'm no stranger to opera, at some point in an opera lover's life, one Ring cycle has got to be his first. For me the week of August 4-9th, in attendance at McCaw Hall for Seattle Opera's Der Ring des Nibelungen, is that first. In fact, it's my first Wagner opera. Period. That hasn't been by accident: Wagner can be intimidating, and many of the well-known and more abysmal components to his weltanschauung are terribly off-putting. But the last thing any critic wants to sound like is a newbie. After all, in the popular mind we're supposed to be people who have heard it all a million times before; world-weary, cynical and crabby.  But at a lecture I attended in preparation for this event the speaker noted that, aside from Shakespeare and Jesus, more words have been written about Wagner than any about other man. It was hard to tell whether the remark was tongue-in-cheek or not, but in any case the point was well taken. So, with so many erudite Wagnerians pontificating and criticizing over the years, there surely must be room for one wide-eyed new guy to say honestly: here I am, I love opera desperately, and this...well, this is quite unlike anything I've ever seen before.

The Rhine Maidens and Alberich: Jennifer Zetlan (Woglinde), Cecelia Hall (Wellgunde), and Renée Tatum (Flosshilde), Richard Paul Fink (Alberich). © Elise Bakketun photo

Das Rheingold

The most immediate observation was the truth of the fact that I'd heard many times before: the orchestra is as much a character as any of the singers in a Wagnerian opera. The Seattle Opera Orchestra, under principal guest conductor Asher Fisch, had a quality that was immediately apparent in the opening bars as they summoned the story up from the murky depths of the Rhine with Jovian powers of creation. The lush set was breathtaking to behold, as the Rhinemaidens larked about, shimmering natators in an incredible display of stagecraft. Renée Tatum's Flosshilde was rich and luxurious to hear, and the Rheingold leitmotif was powerful, enrapturing and portentous on its first appearance

Alberich seems to be simultaneously the most sympathetic and most loathesome character in this first work, and Richard Paul Fink's depth of experience with this role was immediately obvious. His Alberich was engaging and pathetic; by the time he renounces love and takes the gold to the shock of the cruel Rhinemaidens, there is no doubt as to why he is doing this or what his motives might be. Throughout the night whenever Alberich was onstage it was a constant battle to pity or hate him; his rolling, husky and sometimes growling baritone only lent added gravitas to the task of acting this complex character, and Fink was at once spellbinding and horrifying. As Alberich makes up his mind to seize the gold, once again the orchestra imbues the scene with the trembling sense that something terrible is building.

Alberich (Richard Paul Fink) pronounces his curse upon the ring. © Alan Alabastro photo

When the gods are encountered,  Greer Grimsley's Wotan and Stephanie Blythe as Fricka have an immediately intimate and yet troubled connection. Grimsley is appropriately statuesque in his king-of-the-gods bearing, and  Blythe has an innate pathos in her anguish over her philandering husband. What a magnificent voice she brings, with every bit of the heft and lyricism one could imagine wanting from a Wagnerian soprano. The rapport between the gods as Fafner and Fasolt try to claim Freia was convincing and sincere: here is important stuff. Andrea  Silvestrelli was incredible as the love-besotted Fasolt: immense and terrifying to behold in voice, stature and visage. His basso profonodo was magnificent.

When the scene shifts to the dark and mysterious Nibelheim it feels like a shocking change from the "Green Ring," as this productions is nick-named due to the many green-hued sets. It felt like a guilty pleasure laughing at poor Mime (Dennis Petersen), being lashed by an invisible Alberich now drunk with power after his forging of the ring. When Wotan and Loge (Mark Schowalter) descend to trick the dwarf out of his magical trinkets, the scene is set for high if dark comedy, and Fink, Grimsley (as our straight man) and Schowalter do not disappoint.

Mark Schowalter as Loge. © Alan Alabastro photo

Schowalter's Loge is in some ways the most interesting character; although he is a trickster, untrustworthy and conniving, he is yet employed by the gods to do their dirty work. Schowalter's interpretation yields a mirror with which to view the gods: as he is seemingly entranced by the dead Fasolt after the ring begins to work its deadly curse, it is clear whose folly has begun this terrible sequence of events. It's not the actions of Loge, nor even Alberich that will eventually bring the gods' downfall, and Loge is weary unto death of the breathless hubris of these immortals. Schowalter's understanding of this, and his ability to bring it out with such conciseness in his magnificent tenor, was truly one of the joys of this opening night.

Chamber Music Northwest musicians superb in all-Beethoven concert

[Photo of Allessio Bax by Lisa-Marie Mazzucco]

Review by Susan Joyce

I will go a long way out of my way, and even ford a muddy stream or two, to hear good Beethoven played. Fortunately, on July 9, I didn't have to. CMNW's Beethoven week, featuring a Beethoven violin sonata, Beethoven string quartets, and the Archduke trio, was underway, and the Trimet Bus 20 took me from downtown Portland the Catlin Gabel school in a matter of 30 minutes. I tripped up the pleasant garden path with my fellow concertgoers, and in moments was sitting mere feet from the stage in a cool auditorium next to Carl, a classical music aficionado and CMNW regular who pops up like a familiar piece of shrubbery at every concert I've attended this year. We are now like old pals.

The evening's programming was sure to please any Beethoven lover. The choice of the string quartet, op 92, "Serioso", followed by the violin sonata in G, op. 96, and finishing with the Archduke trio, allowed the listener to hear pieces of three differing characters of a composer who is often not appreciated in his true complexity. One heard the terse, urgently dramatic Beethoven in the "Serioso" quartet, the elegantly classical, somewhat interior Beethoven in the violin sonata in G, and the good humored, accessible Beethoven in the Archduke trio.

The key word for this concert, despite the blazing technique displayed and the sometimes volcanic heat emitting from Beethoven's scores, was 'subtle'. This is because while the programming featured barnstormers such as the Archduke trio, and the strongly dramatic string quartet in F, op 92, the highlight of the program was, for me, the subtle understanding of and rendering Beethoven as a firstly a classical composer, rooted in the classical style. This was heard in all the pieces in the program, but most of all in the playing of the violin sonata in G major, op. 96, played by Alessio Bax, pianist, and Martin Beaver, violinist of the Tokyo Quartet. I consider their performance of this piece important for two reasons: first, it gave the listener an idea of the lesser-heard side of Beethoven, the more subtle and interior musical dialogues he was capable of. Secondly, it was an ideal vehicle to highlight the elegant musical artistry of Bax and Beaver as a duo.

Although I missed the pre-concert talk for this program, I encountered the approachable Beaver in the hallway at intermission explaining to another concertgoer that Beethoven wrote this sonata in particular for a violinist who was no longer in his prime, so Beethoven had to restrain himself in the technical range in this sonata. The result is a piece that gives insight into the lyrical beauty Beethoven could create during his quieter moments: we hear Beethoven's love of impressionistic arpeggio sequences, double trills, cascading triplets,and some of the deeply moving slow themes he was capable of, particularly in the piano's opening to the second movement. For me, although obviously not a masterpiece of the same level, this sonata is somewhat reminiscent of the type of writing Beethoven employed in the Fourth Piano Concerto in G, Beethoven's most reflective and 'interior' piano concerto.

This sonata opens with trill figures repeated by each instrument before launching into a gently acrobatic conversation. The piano and violin part closely mirror each other, and in sections where the instruments utter unison phrases, the agreement of articulation and timing displayed by Bax and Beaver was almost uncanny. (Beaver later revealed that the two had had time to rehearse in NY before coming the the festival, but that it was the first time the two had performed together.) Close to the stage, I could see Bax's hands, which were visible markers of the preparation he makes for each note; an intuitively discriminating pianist, he is capable of minute changes in timing and force which make him a fine chamber musician. The introduction to the adagio espressivo, which is the piano's alone in this piece, was exquisitely played: Bax propelled it forward- then, by a change of direction in the phrasing, not speed, he expressed the finely tinged regret it contained. The last movement is a wilderness of development in which Beethoven eschewed all obvious pathways- Bax and Beaver brought the audience through the thicket to the typically Beethovenian ending. Bax and Beaver seemed to me to be temperamentally very suited as a chamber music duo, so I hope to see them in this capacity again.

The concert started with the Miro quartet playing the op. 92 quartet in F minor, the "Serioso". The quartet strode onto the stage as if just exiting from the white heat of Beethoven's brain, and proceeded to dispense from within this chamber of intensity posthaste. Partly because they were all in white suits, and partly because they were subtly attentive to each other, leaning in and turning towards each other, they struck me during the performance as a quartet of 19th century ship's officers and a bartender having an impromptu but serious late-night discussion about tactics and survival prospects as a storm brews in the distance. Joshua Gindele, the cellist, is a communicative, soulful player, the understanding, actively listening bartender of the group. I have never seen a chamber music make more eye contact with his fellow players. Daniel Ching is the stoic captain. All the players were keenly attuned to one another. The terse compression and force of Beethoven's string quartet writing in this piece was fully appreciated by the players. Perhaps because of the intense motivic compression and development, I wished for a little more lyrical expansion during those few calmer moments of the piece, especially for any in the audience not already very familiar with Beethoven's quartets, but this was a small quibble in such a remarkable performance that was almost breathtaking.

The Archduke Trio, op 97, finished out the concert, with Bax back onstage with Philip Setzer, violinist, and Fred Sherry, cellist. There was a slight roughness to this rendition of the trio that I found pleasant. The trio continued to display what I love about fine Beethoven playing-- to understand the departure from classical convention, you have to appreciate the convention. There is classical convention in this piece, and there is departure. Cellist Fred Sherry seems to love Beethoven- every now and then as he hit sforzando or a subito piano he would briefly let loose a wolfish grin. Since it is as fun for me to see people enjoy playing Beethoven as to hear it, I left a very happy concertgoer.

A Little Night Music belongs to Britten, Ligeti, Hindemith, and Tower

Photo of Nicholas Phan

Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” (“A Little Night Music”) proved to be an excellent springboard from which the musicians and listeners could dive into newer works at the concert presented by Chamber Music Northwest on Tuesday evening (July 23^rd) at Catlin Gablel School.  It was solidly played by violinists Theodore Arm and Daniel Phillips, violist Todd Phillips, cellist Sophie Shao, and double bassist Curtis Daily, but it was the music of Benjamin Britten, György Ligeti, Paul Hindemith, and Joan Tower made much more of a splash at this performance.  

Hindemith’s “Kleine Kammermusic” (“Little Chamber Music”) was played engagingly by flutist Tara Helen O’Connor, oboist Allan Vogel, clarinetist David Shifrin, bassoonist Carin Miller Packwood, and hornist William Purvis. They seamlessly varied the tempo, found an incredible balance in the tutti passages, and allowed the colleague who had the theme of the moment to shine. Smooth phrases from the Vogel and Packwood against the rhythmically pulsating line of the O’Connor, Shifrin, and Purvis in the third movement and sudden sonic blurts from each instrumentalist in the fourth injected a bit of humor into this clever piece, which Hindemith wrote in 1922 when he was 27 years old.

Taking things up a notch, Ligeti’s “Six Bagatelles for Wind Quintet” also received superb treatment from O’Connor, Vogel, Shifrin, Packwood, and Purvis. This ten-minute gem, written in 1953 when Ligeti was still in Budapest, travelled all over the place. The ensemble could create a jumpiness (first movement), paint a plaintive atmosphere that was punctuated by clashing sounds like Packwood’s insistent bassoon (second movement), hypnotize with lines that trickled down (bassoon and clarinet) against a melodic passages from the flute, blitz everything with a brief dance (fourth movement), create an homage to Bela Bartok with solemnness (fifth movement), and playfull sprint to the end (sixth movement).

The most recently composed work on the program was Tower’s “A Little Gift,” which she wrote in 2006. This piece started with a unison note from O’Connor and Shifrin that was perfectly matched. If you closed your eyes, you would think that you heard only one instrument instead of two.  The sound from the musicians diverged and seemed to climb higher and higher until climaxing a falling back to the unison note at the beginning of the piece, again matched perfectly in tone.

The most stunning piece on the program was Britten’s Serenade for Tenor, Horn and Strings, in which Britten set six poems with startling fresh ideas back in 1943.  An lush ensemble of 15 strings accompanied the remarkable voice of Nicholas Phan and the playing of William Purvis on the French horn, and together they evoked the haunting and sometimes brooding imagery of the poems, which included works by Charles Cotton, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, William Blake, Ben Johnson, and John Keats.  Phan terrifically modulated from a vibrato to a nearly straight tone or vice versa to emphasize or downplay the text. He could turn up the volume or turn it down so that his voice always stayed just enough louder than the ensemble and his diction was impeccable so that phrases such as “dying, dying, dying” from Tennyson’s poem and “Christe receive thy saule” from the “Dirge” written by an anonymous author stuck in your head long after the music had vanished. Purvis gave an outstanding interpretation of the treacherous horn part, accenting the text and mood at times with a stinging tone.  The strings also played with intensity and a wonderful sense of camaraderie because they didn’t rely on a conductor to lead them.

At the beginning of the concert, artistic director David Shifrin told the audience that this would be the last concert at Catlin Gabel for Chamber Music Northwest. Next year, many of the concerts that would have been held at Catlin Gabel will be shifted to Lincoln Hall at Portland State University. Let's hope that Phan will be there in the near future.

Exciting New Works featured at CMNW's Protege Project Club Concert

Andy Akiho demonstrates the steel drum. Photo: Jim Leisy

The scene at Mississippi Studios is a bit different than your standard Chamber Music Northwest setting...after all it's essentially a bar with a small auditorium attached. Wooden, wing-leafed flying guitars and ukeleles decorate the wall, which is covered in dragon-fly speckled cloth. A drum on the wall proclaims the Castro Parlor as State Champs from 1958-1961. I don't know what that is but should I try to look it up? I pondered this over my next vodka tonic and never did bother to investigate. Instead I settled in for one of CMNW's Protege Project Club Concerts.

Composer and performer Andy Akiho was on hand for this performance, which opened with a solo steel drum composition entitled Aka. Akiho is a fresh-faced, enthusiastic young performer who was excited to be in Portland for the first time, and thanked everyone profusely before inviting audience members up to get a closer look at the lone steel drum that reflected the spotlight in a blinding glare. The piece opened with a mellifluous, muted trilling that turned into a syncopated tapping on the rim, interwoven with complex harmonic rhythms. This piece essentially amounted to a brilliant, prestissimo toccata, showcasing his incredible skill on the instrument, which featured a surprising range of dynamics, exploited masterfully by Akiho.

Camden Shaw, Yekwon Sunwoo, Joel Link. Photo: Jim Leisy

His second work of the evening was a piano trio featuring Yekwon Sunwoo, piano, Joel Link, cello, and Camden Shaw on violin.  The first movement featured a prepared piano, and Sunwoo was called upon to play scritching glissandi on the piano strings themselves with a playing card, accompanied by eerie sul ponticello wailing from the strings.  The next movement featured a jazzy, straight-forward bebop pizzicato from the cello that was like a passacaglia, which came to a sudden stop and revealed Sunwoo standing and playing arpeggios. The movement felt almost improvised, and just when it felt like it was about to go on too long it stopped dead.  A weird, cerebral modal section was followed by a finale focused heavily on a syncopated, shifting rhythmic dissimilation, not surprising coming from a percussionist. Throughout the work melody, when it did appear, was straightforward and appealing, a brief and refreshing change from the experimental mode of the work. This was an exciting composition, and it came from a young composer with a lot to say.

Ida Kavafian and the Dover Quartet. Photo: Jim Leisy

Sunwoo played a competent campanella by Liszt, and the finale was the Concerto in D-Major by French romantic composer Ernest Chausson. They were joined by Ida Kavafian and the Dover String Quartet. There was a nice repartee between Kavafian and Link, a warm and intimate tune that felt like sitting in a fin-de-siecle French parlour. The entire performance conveyed a feeling of lush sensuality, a captivating and moody exposition, occasionally interrupted by cacophonous exclamations. Kavafian's solo work was exciting and impassioned as always, and in all it was a rich and sonorous feast for the senses.

Heavenly Bach B Minor Mass – Rilling finale well worth the wait

With one long line of concert goers stretching from Broadway to Park and another extending down Broadway to the main entry of Heathman Hotel, I knew that something was wrong as I approached the front of the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall last Friday evening (July 12). On the one hand, it was great to see so many people waiting to experience the Bach B Minor Mass to be performed by the Oregon Bach Festival Orchestra, the Festival’s Berwick Chorus, and soloists under the direction of Helmuth Rilling in what may have been his final appearance in Portland. On the other hand, the line moved incredibly slowly. The same people were standing in front of the ticket windows for an awfully long time before going into the hall, and the ticket handlers inside the booth seemed to be frantically looking at computer printouts. Apparently, a ticket printing problem caused a delay in will-call orders, especially orders that had been done over the phone. But even though the concert started 25 minutes late and not enough programs were printed, those problems faded into the background once the concert began, because the chorus, orchestra, soloists, and Rilling delivered a heavenly performance of the Mass in B Minor.

Bach assembled the Mass in B Minor in 1748 and 1749, drawing mostly from music that he had composed earlier. The Sanctus was first performed on Christmas Day in 1724. He created the music for the Kyrie and the Gloria by 1733, when he presented it to Friedrich August II, the Catholic elector of Saxony. Bach created some of the other movements by drawing from his choruses and cantatas, replacing the German text with the Latin words of the Mass and sometimes reworking the music. According to scholarly research, he never heard the work performed as a whole, though sections of the music were sung in Leipzig, where a shorter version of the Latin Mass had a place in the liturgy.

Singing with great intensity, the members of the Berwick Chorus of the OBF expressed the text and music of the Mass with superb dynamics, achieving super-soft pianissimos and robust fortissimos. One of the hallmarks of this choir is its excellent diction and balance between all parts, and in this performance, the singers excelled in both areas to such a degree that the supertitles were practically unnecessary. Fleet passages, such as when the sopranos sang “Et in terra pax” or when the men sang “Et iterum venturus est,” were elevated because of the choir’s articulation. Also, because of the Schnitz’s acoustics, it a rare event when you can hear a strong legato alto line, but the alto section of the chorus was especially impressive when it entered with a “Kyrie eleison” that could’ve easily been buried. Another divine moment came during the Credo when the choir sang “et sepultus est” in super hushed tones and then exploded into joy with “Et resurrexit!”

Also stellar in this performance were soloists Julia Wagner, soprano, Roxana Constantinescu, alto, Nicholas Phan, tenor, and Tobias Berndt, bass. They sang with impeccable intonation and with enough volume to be heard in the Schnitz, but avoided an overly operatic sound. The duets, such as the “Christe eleison” between Wagner and Constantinescu were exquisitely balanced. Berndt’s got to the lowest notes in “Quoniam tuo solus Sanctus,” but the smooth quality of his baritone range was perfect for “Et in Spiritum Sanctum.” Phan's singing of "Benedictus" was immaculate and filled with emotion.

Under Rilling’s baton, the 32-member orchestra gave a finely nuanced performance, supporting the singers with incisive and sensitive phrasing. That may sound contradictory, but the pleasurable thing about Bach’s music is that it can sound lovely and intellectually stimulating at the same time. Individual accolades go to concertmaster Rahel Rilling, principal flutist András Adorján, principal oboist Allan Vogel, principal trumpeter Guy Few, principal bassoonist Kenneth Munday, and the continuo ensemble (violincellist Dávid Adorján, double bassist Dave Williamson, organist Boris Kleiner, and bassoonist Munday) for contributing a singing sound in accompaniment to the soloists. Hearing Few play the mellow corno da caccia (similar to a hunting horn), which Bach specified for the “Quoniam to solus Sanctus” section, was an extra treat.

Since Rilling, who founded the Oregon Bach Festival with Royce Saltzman 44 years ago, has now handed off the artistic leadership to Matthew Halls, he will move into legendary status. It seems appropriate that Halls will lead the big choral production in Portland next year, but he has some awfully big shoes to fill. According to the OBF web site, next season’s schedule will be announced in September.

Miró Quartet delivers a nuanced, subtle evening of Beethoven

The Miró Quartet. Photo by Jim Leisy.

The Miró Quartet undertook a feat that was near Herculean in magnitude on Thursday, July 11, when they performed all three of the Opus 59 String Quartets by Beethoven, the famous 'Razumovsky' quartets. The performance took place at Kaul Auditorium on the Reed College campus, as part of Chamber Music Northwest's Summer Festival. These pieces, which marked a striking new direction in the genre, are demanding both technically and emotionally, and to perform them all in one sitting was a work of determination and fortitude.

These players (Daniel Ching and William Fedkenheuer, violin, John Largess, viola, and Joshua Gindele, cello)  gave a performance that was marked by restraint, and that is using the word in its best sense. Such restraint was necessary to perform this lengthy concert of works that range all over the emotional and spiritual map: too much of a thing, at any given moment, and the balance would be all wrong. By the same token timidity when boldness was called for would yield a similarly dissatisfying result, and the Miró Quartet found the perfect equilibrium.

Throughout the works there were so many entrances that required delicacy of phrasing yet metronomic precision of timing for the effect to be pulled off properly, and there was not one entrance in an entire long evening of demanding entrances that was anything other than exactly what was called for. It would, even for top-notch performers, have been easy to become lost at certain points in the bewildering forest that constitutes these works, yet utter surety was a hallmark of the evening.  There were so many varying textures spread throughout, from surpising and modern-sounding sparseness to hammering monophony, filigreed counterpoint to waltzing scherzos, and the Miró Quartet never let a chance pass to highlight any of these differences. Their dynamic phrasing was exquisite...when an evening is marked by the restraint that they displayed, a giant range of emotional possibilities grows to the point where it feels almost infinite...every crescendo or decrescendo was imbued with meaning and lent this sense of limitless scope.

Some particularly memorable moments included the third movement of the titanic Op. 59 No. 1 quartet, wherein Ching's solo seemed to materialize inexorably and repeatedly from deep water, only to be subsumed again and then reappear a moment later in a slightly altered form, and then finally to hang there in a fragile, almost frail trill that was the only link between this and the sudden bold attacca into the bracing finale. In the opening of the No. 2 quartet, Ching showed he was capable of acrobatic, almost avian articulation. The Allegretto of this quartet was manic, spritely and intricate; well-navigated, it felt like candor, like a frank expression of the idea at hand and then come what may. The hectic tempo of the famous Presto of this work was as fast as I've ever heard it; the only unfortunate side effect of this was that some of the more delicate melodic material was blurred or obscured at this pace. In the third quartet, the variation in the fierce, pulsating rhythm of the opening movement was exhiliarating, and during the second movement Gindele played his pizzicato section with an unabashed, almost alarming plunk!

It is no surprise that the Miró Quartet is capable of delivering this kind of performance, but the fact that they actually did so is another thing entirely; capability and actuality are often two different things, but in this case the group gave as magnificent a perfect performance as one could want on a musical topic of such depth and variety. Every year CMNW brings such top-notch talent to town that one runs out of superlatives when trying to relate the experience of a performance, but that's not a bad thing. 

Chamber Music Northwest ventures into jazzy terrain with Grant’s “The Territory”

[Photo credit: Jim Leisy]

Over the past 43 years, Chamber Music Northwest has built a rock solid reputation as a top-notch presenter of classical music concerts. Occasionally, it has ventured into other sonic landscapes, such as a couple of summers ago when Sylvia McNair did a full slate of popular songs and when Lalo Schifrin stirred up the audience with a tango-driven concert. Several years have passed by since CMNW sponsored a concert of Dave Frishberg and Rebecca Kilgore; so it was high time that CMNW ventured into jazzland on Saturday, July 6th at Kaul Auditorium by presenting the world premiere of Darrell Grant’s “The Territory,” a suite in nine movements for jazz ensemble. The piece was supported by Chamber Music America’s 2012 New Jazz Works: Commissioning and Ensemble Development program, which was funded by the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation. Grant is well-known locally as a jazz pianist and professor at Portland State University, but his background includes work with vocalist Betty Carter, and musicians Frank Morgan, Sonny Fortune, Roy Hanes, Chico Freeman, Nicholas Payton, and Greg Osby.

[Photo credit: Jim Leisy]

For “The Territory,” Grant drew inspiration from the history of Oregon – its landscape and its people. The “Hymn to the Four Winds” invoked the native people through a Nez Pierce religious chant. “Daybreak at Fort Rock” depicted a sunrise in the Oregon high desert where human clothing form 9,000 has been discovered. “The Missoula Floods” reached back to the Ice Age when floods shaped the Pacific Northwest. “Chief Joseph’s Lament” drew from a portion of the legendary chief’s surrender speech. “Rivers” portrayed the vitality of water in Oregon. “Stones into Blossoms” delved into the sorrow of 1941, when Japanese –Americans were forced to live in internment camps. “Sundays at the Golden West” harkened back to the first African-American owned hotel in Portland. “The Aftermath (Interlude)” drew on the tragic event of 1887 when thirty-four Chinese old miners were massacred in a remote canyon. “New Land” referred to the attraction that Oregon still has for people who arrive with new hopes and dreams.

[Photo credit: Jim Leisy]

The sweep of ideas in “The Territory,” was performed by the Darrel Grant Ensemble, which included Grant on piano, Brian Blade on drums, Clark Sommers on double bass, Steve Wilson on saxophones and flute, Joe Locke on vibraphones, Hamilton Cheifetz on cello, Thomas Barber on trumpet, Kirt Peterson on bass clarinet and tenor saxophone, and vocalist Marilyn Keller. Most of the time, the musicians read from a score, but there were many opportunities for solos. The piece began with a groundswell of sound and then transitioned into a pulsating rhythm that was overlaid with Keller singing something like “Hey Ah, Hey O Ah.” Sometimes the piano took over the momentum of the piece with Grant fashioning a number of well-crafted segues. Locke mesmerized the audience with several outstanding solos in which he created a wonderful blur of tones. The ensemble was often too loud for Keller, but she still made a powerful impression when she sang “Never sell the bones of your father and your mother” at the end of “Chief Joseph’s Lament.” Only one of the movements, “The Aftermath (Interlude)” took a slow tempo, but it seemed like a least one more slow movement was needed. Sommers and Blade were exceptional all evening long, and the piece ended with the musicians rising out of their seats to do some rhythmic clapping. Overall, “The Territory” was a triumph of spirit and well worth hearing again. Hopefully, there will be a recording in the near future.

The first half of the program offered two jazz-inflected pieces that became bridges to Grant’s magnum opus. The first of these was George Gershwin’s “An American in Paris,” performed by the husband-and-wife team of Anna Polonsky and Orion Weiss in the version for two pianos. They played the piece impeccably (including some dynamite cutoffs) except that Weiss’s sound was often much louder than Polonsky’s. My experience may have been affected by the fact that my position in the audience was closer to Weiss’s position on stage, but the pianos were turned in such a way that balance shouldn’t have been an issue.

[Photo credit: Jim Leisy]

The second jazzy number was Maurice Ravel’s Sonata in G Major, which was played superbly by violinist Ani Kavafian and pianist Weiss. They excelled in establishing an ethereal atmosphere at the beginning of the first movement (Allegretto), and then transitioning seamlessly to its edgier and more nervous and curious phrases. The second movement (Blues: Moderato) slid back and forth between bluesy passages in which Kavafian would slur some notes and strum others. The third movement (Perpetuum mobile: Allegro) became a high-light reel of Kavafian playing wickedly fast in an unrelenting race to the finish. Weiss’s playing was equally scintillating, and after they crossed the finish line, the audience erupted with a thunderous standing ovation.

[Photo credit: Jim Leisy]

New marketing and communications director at Portland Opera

Portland Opera has just announced that Richard Haney-Jardine will become its Marketing and Communications Director, a position that has been vacant for the past two years when Jim Fullan moved to the Oregon Symphony. Here's the official announcement from Portland Opera:

After an extensive national search, Portland Opera General Director Christopher Mattaliano is pleased to announce Richard Haney-Jardine as the Company’s Director of Marketing and Communications.

Mr. Haney-Jardine, a native of Caracas, Venezuela, moves to Portland from Asheville, North Carolina, where he has been consulting for the North Carolina Stage Company as Special Advisor for Institutional Advancement. He joins the Company on July 1, 2013. According to Mr. Mattaliano, “He brings both a deep knowledge and love of opera as well as over 25 years of experience as a dynamic, visionary, and creative leader with proven success at high-profile organizations including Carnegie Hall, Sony Classical, and Houghton Mifflin.”

In his role as Director of Marketing and Communications, he will be responsible for developing long-term marketing and communication strategies in support of Portland Opera productions and events. He will oversee the planning, implementation, and evaluation of all branding, e-commerce, marketing, public relations, publications, and sales activities for Portland Opera, as well as the U.S. Bank Broadway Across America Portland Series.

Haney-Jardine is currently running a boutique consulting firm, Jardine & Jardins Consulting Group, specialized in advising CEO’s and other senior level executives on transformative and comprehensive branding and communications strategies. In addition to the North Carolina Stage Company his clients have included the renowned Asian Cultural Council in New York and Aegis Services Group, a start-up multi-national firm overseeing the financial, logistic, and security risks for transmedia properties.

Prior to that, Haney-Jardine spent 8 years as the Director of Marketing and Creative Services at Carnegie Hall, where he directed four critical operations of the organization: its earned income through licensing, marketing, retail, and ticket sales representing over $15 million per year; its interactive services, including e-commerce and on-line contents; its visitor services; and its creative and publishing services, including art, editorial, and print production groups. For a short term, he was also tapped to concurrently serve as Director of the Weill Music Institute at Carnegie Hall, the Hall’s educational and outreach arm. Previously he worked as Senior Director of International Editorial and New Media Services at Sony Classical; was the Founder and Content Developer of STET, Inc.; and Associate Director of Marketing and Development at Boston Opera Theater. He started his career at Houghton Mifflin, where over a nine-year engagement he moved from Associate Editor to a prominent position as National Bilingual Manager and Senior Supervising Editor.

Says Haney-Jardine, “I have often been asked what a marketing executive does after ‘graduating’ from the hallowed Carnegie Hall. In my case, the answer was to launch my own marketing and communications business. However, after working as an independent contractor for several years, I found that I longed to return to the fold of a prestigious performing arts organization as an integral member of a cracker-jack team. The team at Portland Opera, under the inspired direction of Chris Mattaliano, was the perfect fit for me. And at last, after an almost twenty year absence, I am returning to my first and most enduring love—opera. And what better town than Portland!”

Haney Jardine is a native speaker of Spanish and English, fluent in French and Italian, and possesses an extensive knowledge of German and Portuguese. He is a board member for the MET Opera National Auditions Council New England Region and of the North Carolina Stage Company. He is a published, prize-winning author of prose, poetry, nonfiction, and literary translations. He received his Bachelor of Arts in English and American literature from Harvard University, where he was selected for one of four coveted spots for a creative writing degree, studying under the tutelage of Nobel Laureate Seamus Heaney. He was also a protégé of such eminent writers as the late Pulitzer-Prize-winning poet Gwendolyn Brooks and also a student of of the late Latin American literary luminaries Jorge Luis Borges and Carlos Fuentes. Haney-Jardine is a classically trained pianist and singer, “with no aspirations to take the stage.”