Tag: Classical Music

REVIEW: Berliner Philharmoniker

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

After delivering a phenomenal concert on November 23, the Berliner Philharmoniker returned the next afternoon for one final, brilliant performance featuring the Bruckner Symphony No. 5 in B-Flat Major. In contrast to the dreamy ambiance of the previous program, on November 24, the Bruckner Symphony highlighted another dimension of the artistry of the Berliner Philharmoniker: their impeccable technique and coordination.

All genres of music use Major and/or minor keys. Music written in a Major key tends to be upbeat and joyful, making the Bruckner Fifth Symphony more solemn than I expected. Unlike his other symphonies, the first movement began with a slow, peaceful introduction. It featured pizzicato—the plucking of strings—from the basses before turning into sudden, powerful chords from the whole ensemble. This exchange of conflicting textures and dynamics continued until the end, developing a complexity that was initially difficult to grasp. Bruckner was often inspired to compose by his strong religious faith, a possible explanation to why I found it challenging to digest because I am neither religious nor familiar with cathedral music.

Because of the next movement, however, I gained a better understanding of the piece. Building upon the thematic and artistic foundation set by the first movement, the slower adagio tempo of the second allowed me to engage more with the music. The pizzicato passages, which demand impeccable synchronization between each musician, added a light and fun texture that peeked out of the rest of the ensemble. Meanwhile, the quick and repetitive sixteenth notes from the violins added a ticklish quality. They played at the perfect volume to support the winds and decorate their melodic lines. The wind and string parts twirled together toward the climax, which was my favorite part of the second movement when the brass blared the repeating theme while the strings played ascending scales. 

The third movement introduced a faster, more energetic tempo, continuing the symphony’s dance-like quality. This lively beat carried into the finale, where everything came together. The finale brought back themes from the first movement. Other phrases developed over the second and third movements felt much more tangible before intertwining with a new motif. With every musician pouring their heart and soul into their part, the interweaving melodies, harmonies, and textures built up to a triumphant conclusion. The ending embodied the brightness of the Major key, creating a lasting impression.

It was hard to imagine how the Berliner Philharmoniker could match the previous night’s performance, yet they succeeded by showcasing a completely different facet of their skills. What sets the Berliner Philharmoniker apart is their ability to convey a message to the listener, whether it’s the composer’s vision, the conductor’s interpretation, or something unique to the audience. Their playing forms a narrative, making the music feel alive, and I can’t wait for the chance to see them perform again in the future. After experiencing this weekend of concerts, I’ve realized that classical music is something that must be lived and breathed in person to fully appreciate its beauty. It was an honor to witness one of the world’s leading orchestras in their 12th and 13th appearances at Hill Auditorium.



REVIEW: Berliner Philharmoniker with Benjamin Beilman, Violin

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

On November 23, Hill Auditorium was brimming with excited classical music lovers, and even President Santa Ono was in the audience. It was finally the night of the much-anticipated concert that had sold out months in advance. Under the baton of Kirill Petrenko, the Berlin Philharmoniker, alongside soloist Benjamin Beilman, delivered a masterful performance of Rachmaninoff’s The Isle of the Dead, Korngold’s Violin Concerto in D Major, and Dvořák’s Seventh Symphony.

Rachmaninoff’s The Isle of the Dead is a symphonic poem inspired by Arnold Böcklin’s painting Die Toteninsel. Böcklin intended his painting to evoke dreams, a quality that Rachmaninoff’s composition certainly achieved. The orchestra’s interpretation captured the audience’s attention with its heavy emotion and power. The dynamics ringing throughout the auditorium felt like crashing waves, while the layered harmonies added a sense of delicate chaos. However, when I looked up the painting, I found that the energetic, determined melodies of The Isle of the Dead largely clashed with the somber mood and muted colors of Böcklin’s work. Later, I discovered that Rachmaninoff had been inspired by a black-and-white reproduction of the painting, which allowed him greater creative freedom.

Next was Korngold’s Violin Concerto in D Major, my favorite—and I dare to assume, many people’s favorite—part of the night. Fascinatingly, Benjamin Beilman grew up in Ann Arbor and attended Community High School. He won first place at the Montreal International Music Competition in 2010, received the Avery Fisher Career Grant in 2012, has played with many major orchestras worldwide, and is one of the youngest artists ever appointed to the faculty of the Curtis Institute of Music. 

When I attend concerts, I often find myself amazed by a soloist’s technique, but this time I was in awe of how much fun Beilman made playing the violin look. Rather than feeling like a performance on stage, it felt like watching a film with headphones on—which makes sense, considering Korngold was an extremely successful opera composer who also played a major role in shaping early movie scores. At times, the softer passages in the music painted serene fields of flowers; at others, Beilman’s tone felt tangible, as if I were sipping rich, melted chocolate. 

 

 

The second movement, “Romanze,” was particularly moving. The opening, with its gentle and tender chords from the winds in the background complemented by the dreamy violin melody, perfectly captured the sound of falling in love—exciting and mesmerizing. Meanwhile, the closing melody, built from odd intervals, reflected the more complex side of love—confusing yet irresistibly tantalizing. 

The final piece, Dvořák’s Symphony No. 7, brought me back to Earth with its tumultuous and unexpected notes. The themes in this symphony didn’t paint vivid landscapes like those in The Isle of the Dead, but each phrase unfolded as if it were a page in a storybook. It was a piece that required a commanding and charismatic conductor to maintain its passionate energy—keeping it controlled yet never subdued—and to harness its power to blend the unexpected turns in the music into lyrical phrases. The third movement, “Scherzo,” was vivacious, its rhythm inspired by the Czech folk dance furiant.

By the end of the night, the Berliner Philharmoniker had established itself as my favorite orchestra. After delivering an enchanting, surreal, and healing performance that would convert even the worst classical music skeptic, the audience went wild—I can’t remember the last time I heard more wholehearted applause. Not to be overdramatic, but Benjamin Beilman’s performance of the Korngold Violin Concerto reminded me of how important classical music is to humanity. Combined with the Berliner Philharmoniker’s mastery, It was a night I will never forget, and I felt extremely lucky to have that experience.

REVIEW: 33 Variations

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December 6 | 11:00 pm | Newman Studio

 

Humans are naturally doused in curiosity. We’ve discovered the depths of Earth’s oceans while making our way to parts of outer space we probably were not intended for. The desire for complete discovery exists on both the largest and smallest of scales. A riling little mystery from the composer Ludwig von Beethoven’s expansive musical life has enchanted playwright Moisés Kaufman, writing a play of the same name: 33 Variations, in which he sends leading lady Dr. Katherine Brandt on her own expedition to uncover the reason for his insist creation of the tune.

In 1819, music publisher Anton Diabelli commissioned Beethoven to write a short variation of his waltz for a larger publication. Beethoven found it pedestrian and blew it off, but at some point, something intrigued him about the tune. This detail left out of history led him to ambitiously compose thirty-three variations on the waltz over the last few years of his life.

What changed? Why did Beethoven spend the height of his compositional years on a piece considered elementary?

Ella Saliba as Dr. Katherine Brandt.

Modern-day musicologist Dr. Katherine Brandt (Ella Saliba) travels to Bonn, Germany, to study Beethoven’s manuscripts from the 1820s. Clara (Aliyah Douglas), her restless daughter, disapproves of the journey due to her mother’s declining health from ALS and eventually joins her in Europe. The two often exchange fiery discourse, “You don’t love anything that you can’t understand,” Clara jabs. Their rocky relationship is exacerbated by Clara’s lack of career commitment and her cumbersome relationship with her mother’s nurse from the U.S., Mike Clark (Landon Wouters, whose character is hilariously inappropriate & full of laughs).

The play shifts between 19th-century Vienna and the present, while Beethoven (Nick Aiello) struggles to pay rent and faces his own ailments. His secretary, Anton Schindler (a charming James Parascandola), converses back and forth with Mr. Anton Diabelli (Marcus Byers) over four years while Beethoven writes his variations.

Through a plot with cadences that come off more bleak than cheerful, there is an abundance of humor woven into Kaufman’s hefty script. Aiello, Byers, and Parascandola are responsible for that—the three’s hilarious riffs were plentiful and cheeky. Perhaps nudging to the fact many of Beethoven’s variations do undoubtedly poke fun at Diabelli.

A young Ella Saliba earnestly waltzes through the life of the much more mature Dr. Katherine Brant. As Ms. Saliba explored Katherine’s ever-consuming and impassioned journey onstage, what the audience found was a deeply impressive, humble, and moving performance—resulting in a very misty curtain call.

James Parascandola and Marcus Byers.

One of the most exceptional parts of the play is the live pianist performing the “33 Variations” in real time. I would be remiss not to point out pianist Eric Head’s sensitive performance. This notoriously challenging work was greeted with poise from Head, providing an irreplaceable vibrance to the atmosphere.

Kaufman’s play may occasionally feel oversaturated with detail, but I was transfixed by his sentimental characters. The parallels between these two human lives across more than a century are deeply clever. Life’s ever-ticking clock is often responsible for igniting humanity’s obsessive quest for meaning in our short engagements on Earth, a theme poignantly embodied by Mr. Aiello and Ms. Saliba. I do hope Dr. Brandt found the answers she wanted, for she at least discovered the beauty nestled within the ordinary.

 

 

 

Images thanks to Basement Arts. 

REVIEW: Hänsel und Gretel

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November 14th | 8:00 pm |Power Center For The Performing Arts

 

 

Is everyone on drugs in SMTD’s Hänsel und Gretel? That is a question I don’t know the answer to.

Director Gregory Keller brought an eccentric new take on the classic fairytale last weekend, one that was unanticipated by opera’s more familiar audiences. Traditionally, this story is pretty straightforward: young mischievous kids, absent parents, the candy house, the witch and the oven, the whole sha-bang. But Keller took everything up a notch—and academia seems like the right place to do that, right?

Mr. Keller has spent twenty-six seasons at a little place called The Metropolitan Opera in New York City, where he’s staged vibrant and thought-provoking revivals of some of opera’s most notable works. He’s eager to try new things, but is opera itself ready?

This charming opera was written by German composer Englebert Humperdinck with libretto by his sister, Adelheid Wette. His Wagnerian influence is clear in his richly textured orchestration and memorable, complex, and emotional melodies. His magical, atmospheric score lives in a lighthearted fairytale world, but make no mistake—it’s not an easy sing. This production showcased some of the Department of Voice & Opera’s finest talent.

The production took us back to the 1970s: trading in brooms for vacuums and the witch’s oven for an oversized microwave. The dramaturgy note mentioned their intention to mirror the political landscape of the 1970s to today, providing clearer context to the artistic choices made. Hänsel (Daiyao Zhong) and Gretel (Ingrid Kuribayashi) start the opera deprived of food in their home, parentless, and bored. When Mother and Father (a stunning Christina Parson & commanding Andrew Smith) return, they bring battles of their own: a quaaludes addiction and rampant alcoholism.

Hänsel & Gretel’s house, Scene I, Act I.

Ms. Kuribayashi and Ms. Zhong make a playful pair onstage, displaying vocal mastery over Humperdinck’s lush, folk-inspired melodies. They both portrayed a commitment to the fanciful youth of the music and had enjoyable presences onstage (along with stellar vocals). They both seemed to be pushed up an age bracket from the original story: Hänsel is sporting a mustache and smoking cigarettes while Gretel’s lively physicality makes me think she is within the realm of a frisky preteen. Perhaps the age shift brings accessibility to college-age audiences?

 

Ingrid Kuribayashi (left) and Spencer Vandellen.

Mother and Father’s chaos sends them into the woods, where they meet The Sandman (Madeline Surroweic), an Alice In Wonderland adjacent Caterpillar-like ghost who sends the children to sleep with a backpack of hotboxed smoke. The angels (who are supposed to protect the children while they sleep) are replaced with an entourage of leather jacket-wearing goons who send them up mysterious white stairs into the sky, ending Act I. I couldn’t exactly read what was going on— Were they ascending to heaven? Drugged by the Sandman? Part of some master plan orchestrated by The Witch?

They are awakened by the Dew Fairy (Anne-Marie Attanga, who sparkles vocally) in a brief and shimmering aria, right before the children realize they are outside the cottage of The Witch (Spencer Vandellen) decorated in colorful drag. This role was written for a mezzo voice but is also standard to be performed by tenors. Vandellen has a stellar upper range and navigates vocal passages with ease, without sacrificing an ounce of drama from the exuberant Witch.

Perhaps Keller’s unusual choices support deeper messaging regarding Hänsel and Gretel’s need to escape the demons of their own home: addiction-ridden parents, food deprivation, and an understated need to explore layered with teenage angst. All ambiguity aside, the eccentricity of the production kept me intrigued from start to finish.

I’m sure Keller’s nuanced take on this Brothers Grimm tale startled traditionalist opera-goers, but it seems academia is hungry to shake up this 400+-year-old art form, and I appreciate that. With or without drugs, I think it’s time for opera to embrace its hot takes from ambitious directors. Better sooner than later before opera is the next thing in the Witch’s oven.

 

 

Hänsel und Gretel runs November 14-17 at the Power Center for Performing Arts. Images thanks to @umichsmtd on Instagram.

REVIEW: “Duos” by Anda Jiang

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November 5th, 2024 | 8:00pm | McIntosh Recital Hall

 

Election Day is not normally a day I opt to see a recital. Yet, on this particularly tense Tuesday, I dropped into violinist Anda Jiang’s “Duos” at The School of Music. I thought it an interesting theme for this uniquely divided day, and I wondered how it was relevant to the duality we’re facing in the United States currently.

Ms. Jiang programmed five pieces on her recital, all staples of the violin repertoire. The set began with an angsty Zoltán Kodály work, Duo for Violin and Cello, Op. 7 (1914). Jiang performed only the first movement, “Allegro serioso, non troppo“ with cellist counterpart, Lauren Matthews, a technically versatile player with a magnificent buttery sound. The two had a striking musical presence together and masterfully navigated abrupt tone shifts throughout the piece. Kodály knits beautiful melodies alongside overt messaging of tension—the duo is in harmony, and suddenly there’s friction. The piece was composed in 1914, during the brink of WWI in Kodály’s home country of Hungary. Perhaps this sonata contained a response to the growing tensions in the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

The program moved to an effortlessly expressive Schubert, his Fantasie in C Major (1827). Ms. Jiang performed four movements alongside the stunning Rena Wu on the piano. This piece is known to demand extraordinary technicality from both the pianist and the violinist, an ambitious repertoire choice that entirely paid off. Ms. Jiang’s sensitivity to the piece struck me—her ability to take charge with engaging string melodies while leaving adamant space for Schubert’s brilliant contrapuntal piano lines to shine through, especially in the second movement, “Allegretto”.

Anda Jiang and her mother, Lydia Qiu.

The penultimate set included Debussy’s La Fille aux Cheaveux de Lin (1910) and Beau Soir (1891), which recruited Lydia Qiu to the piano—hilariously noted on the program as (pianist, mother). This set of two tunes is characterized by sweeping nostalgia and colorful impressionistic sounds, a favorite performance of mine from the evening. In addition to the performing familial duo, Ms. Jiang mentioned that her father built the violin she plays on (how cool!), which houses a stunningly bright and shimmering sound.

Joining the closing piece was dynamic pianist Aleks Shameti, one of the recent winners of the 2024 SMTD Concerto Competition. The two performed one of César Franck’s most well-known compositions, all four movements of the Sonata for Violin and Piano. The piece contains beautiful cyclic themes, opting for a satisfying finish to the set. With an absolutely enchanting performance, I hear a duo full of harmony emotionally and melodically. Funny enough, Franck wrote this piece in 1886 as a wedding gift for the 28-year-old violinist Eugène Ysaÿe, which was premiered publicly with Ysaÿe and pianist Marie-Léontine Bordes-Pène, who performed it first at his wedding. I suppose unity was implied from the beginning.

This recital reminded me why we make music—to comment, to express, to find unity in our strange human experience. Duality exists naturally in life— marriages, disputes, families, and mere instrumentation. On a day like November 5th, the messaging of duality becomes more complex and cynical, when it doesn’t always have to be. I’m not sure if Anda Jiang’s “Duos” was intended to be political commentary or not, but regardless, she reminded me of the sheer power of harmony.

 

 

Images thanks to Anda Jiang.

REVIEW: London Philharmonic

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

On October 18th, the London Philharmonic returned to Hill Auditorium after 13 years. The concert was especially thrilling for me, as it was my first time experiencing the London Philharmonic live. The repertoire, performed in order, included Britten’s Sinfonia de Requiem, Shostakovich’s Violin Concerto No. 1 in a minor, Tania León’s Raíces (Origins), and Sibelius’s Symphony No. 5 in E-flat Major.

I found it unusual that they chose to open with a requiem, given the somber, darker tones typically associated with such works. Yet Britten’s piece turned out to be grand in its own right, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed listening to it. The quality of the music drew me in immediately, largely due to Edward Gardner’s conducting—I found my eyes fixed on him from the very beginning.

I consider the conductor to be the heart of an ensemble: the musicians move and breathe to the beat of the baton, and the phrasing of each lyrical line relies on the tiniest of gestures. A captivating conductor is vital to the quality of an orchestra’s performance, and Gardner’s skills truly shone, especially when every instrument joined in a musical passage. The contrasting dynamics filled the auditorium with a depth of sound that made me feel one with the Sinfonia de Requiem, despite being in the audience. 

Although I had never heard Shostakovich’s first violin concerto before, the eerie dissonant intervals and unsettling lack of vibrato in the opening unmistakably evoked his distinctive melancholic style. Once the second movement began, the intensity of the piece immediately shifted my attention to violin soloist Patricia Kopatchinskaja. The clean harmonics and intonation of her double stops were breathtaking. Furthermore, she preserved Shostakovich’s voice by weaving between the lack of vibrato characteristic of the first movement and the vibrato that expressed her own musicality.

London Philharmonic Orchestra performing with Edward Gardner and Patricia Kopatchinskaja in Hill Auditorium, October 18, 2024.

Like the preceding pieces, the introduction of Raíces was quieter and calm. What made it stand out from the rest of the program was the lively beat that picked up in the latter half; in this section, the woodwinds and brass melodies particularly shone, establishing themselves as the main characters of the piece.

Sibelius’s fifth symphony continued the trend of opening with a peaceful first movement, which made me hopeful for a triumphant ending to conclude the night. Instead of achieving an impactful ending by increasing the tempo, the last movement made its mark through the layering of instruments. The full volume of the brass rang beautifully through the hall, yet I could still hear the violins complimenting them with a gorgeous melody rich in luscious notes. The concluding measures were also unexpected; rather than maintaining that full sound, they transitioned into a series of single note chords played by the whole orchestra.

However, I must confess that for me the highlight of the concert was actually the encore: Variation IX, Adagio “Nimrod,” from Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations. It was another calm piece, but rather than a somber sound, it featured sweet tones and a yearning melody that lingered with me long after the performance. It provided a perfect change of pace accompanied by a bittersweet emotion that proved to be more memorable than a loud and exciting ending.