Tag: Hill Auditorium

REVIEW: Seong-Jin Cho, Piano

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Photos are provided by Peter Smith Photography

On February 7th at Hill Auditorium, pianist Seong-Jin Cho delivered a phenomenal performance of the complete solo piano works of Maurice Ravel. The concert lasted three hours, yet Cho memorized and played every piece with unwavering precision and passion. Funnily enough, before the concert began, an audience member behind me exclaimed that even a one-hour program of Ravel would be too long; I’d bet money they changed their mind by the end of the night.

Cho’s global reputation skyrocketed after winning First Prize at the 2015 Chopin International Competition in Warsaw. Since then, he has performed with the Berlin Philharmoniker, where Cho is currently the artist in residence, as well as the London Symphony Orchestra, Boston Symphony Orchestra, and more. 

At Hill, Cho’s ability to breathe life into the piano showed why he’s so sought after. He merged with the instrument in body and soul. Even when the music consisted of a single repeating note, it was beautiful and each tone rang with a pure, bell-like clarity. No matter how fast the glissando flew by, you could still hear each note sing. The lyrical lines blended seamlessly, yet I could distinguish which hand played which dynamics, melodies, and harmonies—even with my eyes closed. Cho never once seemed to lose focus or stamina.

The first piece, Sérénade grotesque, had a delicate, elusive character that made its theme hard to pinpoint. Menuet antique felt more tangible. Pavane pour une infante défunte evoked a giddy feeling of raindrops and fairy footsteps from melodic flurries and vast glissandos. Cho then moved into the peaceful Jeux d’eau and ended the first section of the night with the Sonatine, whose three movements featured harp-like textures.

 

 

After intermission, Cho resumed with Miroirs, whose five movements flowed so smoothly it felt like a single movement. In Gaspard de la nuit, I was struck by the soft yet clean notes—something I’ve always found difficult to bring out on the piano. 

Following the second break, Menuet sur le nom d’Haydn became one of the night’s highlights. It immediately captured my heart with chords that built into a dreamy atmosphere. Valses nobles et sentimentales brought me back to reality with dancing energy, especially in the Presque lent – dans un sentiment intime movement, which glittered. The followingPrélude carried a bittersweet emotion, while À la manière de Borodine surprised me with a melody that made me imagine horses frolicking. Similarly, À la manière de Chabrier resembled cheerful skipping. 

The final piece, Le Tombeau de Couperin, offered the most variety. Its six movements formed an emotional arc—sprightly, meek, brash, romantic—culminating in the last movement Toccata. Vif. That movement was especiallydemanding, ebbing and flowing between repeated notes, lush lines, and anxious descents that Cho played with awe-inspiring control. 

I’m glad this performance introduced me to the beauty of Ravel’s piano works. Cho’s ability to freely shape dynamics made him the perfect soloist to perform Ravel’s dreamy musicality. It had been a long time since I attended a solo piano recital, so this performance showed me how a soloist can express more subtle and endearing musical expressions even without the grandeur of an orchestra.

 

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: 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.

REVIEW: University Symphony Orchestra Shostakovich, Symphony No. 5

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On Tuesday, December 5th, the University Symphony Orchestra played one of my favorite classical works of all time: Symphony No. 5, op. 47, D Minor (1937) by Dmitri Shostakovich. It’s an eerily beautiful, somber, yet exciting piece. I played this in high school, so it was interesting to be on the other side and listen to the interpretation of another conductor: Kenneth Kiesler.

The orchestra started very slow in the beginning, almost lethargic, which surprised me. It’s usually played quicker to emphasize how striking the opening notes are, but I feel like this version brought out the first violin’s melody much better as it gradually crawls into higher pitches. Once the tempo picked up, however, there was a sense of anxiety and tension in the music that is often present in Shostakovich’s other compositions. The contrast between the pianissimo and fortissimo sections created a similar effect that made everything much more dramatic and catching.

My favorite movement is the third movement, the Largo. It features a lot of wind solos that are all variations of a bittersweet melody, but the different instruments all create new textures. This same theme transfers to the strings that play much more dramatically loud and fast in comparison. The constant flip-flopping between solos and soli (when a section has a solo together) is so good at creating different expressions of anger and sadness. I especially like the harp and harpsichord’s arpeggios at the end of the movement right before the orchestra as a whole comes to a stop.

Afterward, the fourth movement, the Allegro non-Troppo, begins fierce with trills and loud beats of the timpani. This movement seemed much more symphonic to me than the others because of how much more interwoven the parts are and how the notes build off and layer amongst sections. This is especially the case once the key transitions from minor to major chords, which is what composers often do to end on a triumphant note.

I’m always looking for more opportunities to listen to my favorite pieces. I’m so happy I got to hear this symphony live again, and the USO gave an amazing performance of it.

REVIEW: Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra Handel’s Messiah

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Handel’s Messiah is undoubtedly one of the most well-known choral repertoires, and the Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra and UMS Choral Union’s performance of it was very lovely. As Handel’s Messiah is a Christmas tradition, there was a bed of red and white flowers circling the stage that was a nice visual addition. It was packed with a large choir accompanied by a small chamber orchestra, which also had a harpsichord and organ.

I enjoyed listening to the harpsichord because it added a playful quality to the music. The harpsichord is the predecessor to the piano but has a string-like quality, so the sound stood out amongst the rest of the instruments. When the organ played it took me aback because of how loud it was, but I loved the heavier atmosphere it layered onto the orchestra. The strings did a really good job recreating the baroque sound, which is much more airy and uses trills to emphasize notes whereas romantic music uses lots of vibrato.

When Hallelujah played, the audience all stood up to sing along, and the singers around me were very talented, perfectly blending in with the choir on stage. My favorite part, though, was the 48th Air which featured a trumpet solo that traded off with the choir soloist. I don’t think I’ve heard a trumpet solo that was unaccompanied before. The trumpet had a very clear bell-like sound that traveled well through the large hall. I was also a big fan of the ending of the Messiah; it immediately captured my attention with the organ’s entrance and had a wonderful buildup that demanded the audience’s attention.

I’m not religious and wanted to attend this event purely for the music. I do think it’s more targeted towards vocalists than instrumentalists, but it was still fun to see a different side of the strings that had that baroque quality since many baroque pieces played now have adapted a more romantic style. It was a super long concert: almost 3 hours long, so I don’t think I’d attend another playing of Handel’s Messiah. However, I’m really glad I had the opportunity to see it live once.