Tag: Classical Music

REVIEW: Echoes: A Music Journey to the East

Chloe Huang Leave a comment

In the fall of 2019, Qingyun Chinese Ensemble was founded, emerging as the University of Michigan’s first and only Chinese music ensemble and carrying a mission to bring traditional Chinese music to Michigan audiences. Their recent performance at the McIntosh Theater, Echoes: A Music Journey to the East, operates as an extension of their ambitions, focusing on bridging the gap between ancient melodies and contemporary interpretations. With extensive experience in their respective instruments, the members not only displayed technical skills but also a deep pride in representing their culture and heritage. 

Echoes: A Music Journey to the East was divided into three chapters–Journey to the West, Diversity in Harmony, and Life as a Bundle of Spirits– each showcasing a diverse selection of short pieces. Soloists and full ensembles constantly fluttered on and off the stage with their instruments as two announcers enthusiastically introduced each piece’s context and featured instruments. The announcers noted specifics of certain instruments, for example, how the sound of a solo instrument accentuated the intended emotion of the piece, as well as some of the song’s history. Whether or not audience members arrived with prior knowledge of Chinese traditional music, Qingyun ensured they left with a newfound understanding of the genre. 

My knowledge of Chinese traditional music is limited, and perhaps as a result, I found the evening marked by diverting surprises. I was taken at how the performers utilized the entirety of their instruments– for example, tapping on the base of the erhu (Chinese fiddle) or running a stick beater along the ridged encirclement of a dagu (Chinese bass drum)– and at the variety of songs being played. The repertoire ranged from Chinese folk music to more contemporary pieces, to adaptations of music from the video game Black Myth: Wukong, alongside a Japanese song and Mozart’s iconic Turkish March. The distinct sounds each instrument produced were strikingly beautiful, and when the full ensemble came together in the final chapter, their rich harmony was accentuated by individual tones adding layers of texture. I especially loved when the sounds of the dizi (Chinese transverse flute) poked through with its deep, melodic tones. Additionally, many of the traditional songs performed were deeply rooted in nature, a sensation that resonated in the music itself—the dizi evoked birdsong, the muyu (woodblock) mimicked the rhythm of galloping horses, and the guzheng (Chinese plucked zither) gently flowed like water streaming down a mountainside. 

Performance of Erhu Concerto “War Horses Galloping” (1976)

The compact McIntosh theater seated no more than 100 viewers, fostering an easy exchange between the performer on stage and the audience. The ability to see each musician’s fingers move deftly across their instrument, catch subtle expressions, and witness the silent nods exchanged before beginning a piece added a sense of intimacy to the experience. The final surprise song was one of exuberant energy as the behind-the-scenes crew was brought onto the stage and the audience was invited to heartily clap along to the rhythm. After the performance, there was also a ‘Meet the Instrument’ segment where the audience was invited to come up on stage and play the exhibited instruments.

The Qingyun Chinese Music Ensemble continues to provide a space for students to refine their craft while introducing new audiences to the often-overlooked beauty of Chinese traditional music. Their performance was both welcoming and educational, offering an experience that was not only immersive but also deeply personal, reflecting the performers’ passion for their art. 

More information on the ensemble as well as the pieces and instruments performed in Echoes: A Music Journey to the East can be found here: https://qr-codes.io/pkFUwE



REVIEW: The Music of Studio Ghibli

Chloe Huang Leave a comment

Performing on the Michigan Theater stage this March was not only the talented musicians of the Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra (A2SO) but also a giant, grey, round creature known as Totoro. The audience laughed as the creature suddenly popped onto the stage, waving its arms and pouting as the conductor playfully reprimanded it. This creature, Totoro, is a beloved character from My Neighbor Totoro, a 1988 animated film directed by Hayao Miyazaki and produced by Studio Ghibli, a renowned Japanese animation studio known for its beautifully crafted and nostalgic films. 

For their March Pops performance, Studio Ghibli at the Symphony, A2SO brought the magic of Studio Ghibli to life through music, performing Joe Hishashi’s pieces from My Neighbor Totoro, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Spirited Away, and Howl’s Moving Castle. Studio Ghibli films have found a loyal audience for several generations, reflected in the large number of families that attended. The typical formality of classical performances was immediately deconstructed, evidently with the focus being on media rooted in pop culture, but also in the tone guest conductor Wilbur Lin addressed the audience. Throwing in jokes and placing small stuffed animals of Studio Ghibli characters on his podium made the night much more family-friendly. 

The night opened up with a variation on Hisaishi’s Merry-Go-Round and Cave of Mind from Howl’s Moving Castle, transitioning into a segment intertwining music and narration from My Neighbor Totoro. Momo Kajiwara narrated the film’s story in Japanese, while the orchestra provided a playful, accompanying score, enhancing the tale through sound. Kajiwara’s crisp, sweet voice was well-suited for the role, adding warmth to the performance. However, I found myself straining to read the pamphlet in the dark, as it was the only translation source for her narration. Because the story is such a central aspect of the experience, it would have been helpful to have more accessible forms of translation. 

Momo Kajiwara narrating Orchestra Stories: My Neighbor Totoro

After a brief intermission—during which guests eagerly lined up to take photos with Totoro—the performance concluded with Kiki’s Delivery Service and Spirited Away Suite. The latter was especially expansive, capturing the emotional arc of the film as the music swelled with dark tension before fading into a gentle stillness.

Hearing these pieces performed live evoked a deep sense of nostalgia. The childlike playfulness present in the films was beautifully mirrored in Hisaishi’s scores, particularly through the lively percussion. The tinkling of bells and the warm, rounded tones of the xylophone added a whimsical touch. However, despite Studio Ghibli’s strong appeal to children, the films resonate with audiences of all ages because they explore deeper themes. Miyazaki’s works evolve with the viewer, gradually revealing reflections on childhood innocence, cultural identity, corruption, love, and family.This emotional depth was mirrored in the performance, where moments of lightheartedness were contrasted by sudden shifts in mood. Conductor Lin noted that Hisaishi deliberately used percussion to mark these transitions—an idea that stayed with me as the dark boom of the cymbal echoed through the theater. 

Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra performing select Studio Ghibli pieces

The evening was a mesmerizing tribute to the timeless magic of Studio Ghibli, bringing the beloved films to life through music. A2SO’s performance not only showcased the brilliance of Hisaishi’s compositions but also captured the emotional depth and whimsical charm that make Miyazaki’s stories so enduring. From the playful innocence of My Neighbor Totoro to the sweeping grandeur of Spirited Away, it was a night that reminded audiences of why these films continue to enchant audiences of all ages.

REVIEW: Gershwin Centennial Concert

Sappy Leave a comment

Though composer George Gershwin and his younger brother, lyricist and Pulitzer Prize winner Ira Gershwin, are undoubtedly celebrated as two great contributors to American music, their works were surprisingly never standardized. As a result, numerous scores and recordings of their music circulate with inconsistencies in tempos and dynamics, and some have been lost to time. To preserve the essence of his granduncles’ works, University of Michigan alumnus Todd Gershwin created the Gershwin Initiative with the School of Music, Theatre & Dance (SMTD). As part of this initiative, SMTD annually hosts a centennial performance of the two brothers’ works. This year, Sunday, January 26th, a crowd of students and locals alike flocked to the Michigan Theater to catch the performance of the music written by the brothers in 1925.

Accompanied by pianist Jacob Kerzner, SMTD students Nicholas Alexander Wilkinson II, Oliver Boomer, Aquila Sol, and Elle Michaels sang George Gershwin’s compositions from Tip-Toes (“These Charming People,” “Sweet and Low-Down,” and “That Certain Feeling”), Tell Me More (“Mr. And Mrs. Sipkin,” “Three Times a Day”), Song of the Flame (“Midnight Bells,” “Vodka”), La, La, Lucille (“It’s Great to Be in Love”), as well as songs that Ira Gershwin wrote the lyrics for in Molly Darling (When All Your Castles Come Tumbling Down”), Lady in the Dark (“My Ship”) and A Star is Born (“It’s a New World,” “The Man That Got Away”). The students sang without costumes, props, or choreographies. However, their voices alone captured the sassy and hopeless romantic attitudes of their characters. 

What I found most interesting is that many of these songs were suggestively scandalous yet painted with a lighthearted tone of voice and upbeat melodies. The song that particularly stood out to me was “Vodka.” The funny and punny lyrics were easy to understand while remaining hilariously descriptive of what vodka does to the human psyche and body and the negative consequences that often follow its consumption. 

After the intermission, the University Philharmonic Orchestra (UPO) took the stage under conductor Jayce Ogren to play Overture to Song of the Flame. Shockingly, it was likely the first public performance of the overture in decades, and there are no known recordings of the overture. The overture is relatively short and played for around ten minutes. Still, the characteristic dreamy quality of Gershwin’s talent at blending jazz and classical music makes it feel even shorter. 

However, what left the deepest impression on me that night was Tzu-Yin Huang’s performance of Gershwin’s Piano Concerto in F. Accompanied by the UPO, the first movement starts with a suspenseful yet jazzy rhythm from the blaring band instruments. Then, the pianist has dramatic, slow notes before suddenly accelerating in pitch and tempo before returning to a bittersweet, syncopated blues melody. The contrast between a lullful minor key to a more powerful, almost angry melody with a cascade of descending thirds evoked a bittersweet emotion before transitioning into a quick tempo; the orchestra then takes turns with the soloist in sharing the spotlight. The second movement starts similarly with a jazzy, brass solo, that the piano interrupts after a slow, somber intro. The mood immediately shifts with playful staccato notes and grace notes. In contrast to the first and second movements, the third movement begins agitated with notes that requires the fingers to have incredible control in speed and power. I loved the end of the third movement, which further expands an overall theme heard throughout all three movements before having a classic tremolo ending. 

Overall, it was an incredible experience. I’ll be striving to attend the Gershwin Centennial concert in the future, and highly recommend others attend too!

REVIEW: Berliner Philharmoniker

Sappy Leave a comment

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

Sappy Leave a comment

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.