Building Your Library: Stravinsky Violin Concerto in D

Stravinsky had two self-doubts that delayed the creation of his violin concerto. The first was his wariness of virtuosos in general; he was never sure whether their intentions were to genuinely become a champion of his music, or if they just wanted to use his name as a vehicle to propel their careers. The second was his uncertainty that he can compose something for the violin that is both brilliant and practical, having never played or understood the fundamental limitations of the instrument. However, Stravinsky should have known the latter would be a non-issue, for countless non-violinist composers (Brahms, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, etc.) have composed concertos that are the cornerstones of the solo violin repertoire. Famous violist Paul Hindemith even advised Stravinsky that he was better off approaching the instrument as a foreigner so that Stravinsky would not fall victim to hackneyed, clichéd figurations that violinistic composers use. Stravinsky was persuaded eventually and met Samuel Dushkin, the virtuoso violinist who Stravinsky would collaborate with to compose his violin concerto. From this meeting, a beautiful friendship was formed and Stravsinky would end up composing for Dushkin the Duo Concertante, Divertimento, and Suite Italienne.

Describing his collaboration with Stravinsky, Dushkin wrote that his "function was to advise Stravinsky how his ideas could be best be adapted to the exigencies of the violin as a concert display instrument." [1] Dushkin further recalled that during lunch one day in Paris, Stravinsky "took out a piece of paper and wrote down [a] chord and asked me if it could be played. I have never seen a chord with such an enormous stretch...and I said "No." Stravinsky said sadly, "Quel dommage." After I got home, I tried it, and, to my astonishment, I found that in that register, the [chord] was relatively easy to play, and the sound fascinated me. I telephoned Stravinsky at one to tell him that it could be done. When the concerto was finished, more than six months later, I understood his disappointment when I first said "No." This chord, in a different dress, begins each of the four movements. Stravsinky himself calls it his "passport" to the concerto." [2]

And that chord is this eye-popping looking thing.

It's no surprise why Dushkin's knee-jerk reaction was to tell Stravinsky it's impossible; with an eleventh stacked on a ninth, that chord is intimidating just to look at.

The solo violinist is more of a duet partner to the orchestra for most of the concerto. Even though the number of forces in the orchestral is large, the accompaniment sounds more like a large chamber orchestra. Furthermore, as much as the solo violin part relies on Dushkin's suggestions, the orchestral music is undeniably Stravinsky. The passport chord opens the piece in the march-like Toccata. The two inner movements, creatively titled Aria I and Aria II, serves as an intermezzo and slow movement of the concerto. Aria II, reminiscent of one of Bach's slow movements from his violin concertos, is particularly affecting and tenderly beautiful. The last movement, Capriccio, is full of wit and humor. He isolates members of the orchestras to duet with the soloist head on, including the bassoonist and trombonist. In a funnier episode, the concertmaster challenges the soloist to a match of dexterity and agility. The two end abruptly in unison, as if to say "Well played sir", and the soloist continues to finish the concerto.

In terms of recordings, you can't go wrong with Dushkin and Stravinsky's recording. What could be better than the composer and violinist whom the piece was composed for immortalize their interpretation for posterity? While the recording quality is quite poor, it is still fascinating to hear how Dushkin and Stravinsky conceived the overall architecture of the piece. Another recording with Stravinsky on the podium was one with Isaac Stern soloing. In both these recordings, the music sounds new; the orchestra seems to be struggling to play the off-metered rhythms correctly, which detracts a little from the musicality. Nonetheless, if you are learning this concerto, both recordings are indispensable.

While I'm usually not a fan of Anne-Sophie Mutter's playing, her reading here is extremely stylish. Her effusive vibrato, for once, is well-served in the giant chords, giving them character and rounding out the sound. Another recording I was surprised to find myself enjoying is that of Maxim Vengerov's. While his tempo choices are slower than most of his contemporaries, his tone is massive and his attacks carry incredible bite.

JEFF RECOMMENDS

Hilary Hahn's style of playing is perfectly suited for this neoclassical composition. Out of her generation of violinists, she is probably the one who plays with the most reserve, rarely willing to sacrifice a decrease in technique or cleanliness for emotional abandon. She is an absolute machine when the music becomes fast (e.g. 2nd movement of Shostakovich Violin Concerto, 3rd movement of Barber Violin Concerto) and her technique serves her well here. The lines are clean and the harmonic structure comes through the music easily. The Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, under the direction of Sir Neville Marriner, provide Hahn with incredible support; the trickier rhythms are pedestrian in their hands and the soloists in the orchestra are infectiously fun to listen to in the work's final movement. The acoustic quality is lively and robust, adding sparkle to the already effervescent work. Usually, I don't agree with who wins the Grammy's for classical music, but I wholeheartedly and enthusiastically agree with this album's Grammy win.

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[1][2] Samuel Dushkin, Working With Stravinsky, in Igor Stravinsky, ed. Edwin Corle (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1949).

Concert Review: Rodrigo y Gabriela

On a pure spur-of-the-moment decision, I decided to make my way up to the Greek Theatre at Berkeley on my birthday for Rodrigo y Gabriela's first concert ever in the Bay Area. And I am so glad I decided to go. It has been two days since the concert and I'm still on a bit of a high from the performance. The energy given off by this duo is incredible! Their journey to fame is one worth retelling. They first met in Mexico when they played in the same thrash metal band called Tierra Ácida. Frustrated at the limited scope of the music scene in Mexico, they completely uprooted themselves and moved to Dublin, Ireland, a city with a reputation for being extremely welcoming to aspiring musicians. There, they discovered and refined their sound by playing various live gigs at pubs and busking on Grafton Street and Temple Bar, one of the principal shopping streets and liveliest nightlife areas, respectively, in Dublin. They received their big break when they were approached by popular Irish singer/musician Damien Rice, who provided support for them at Oxegen, Ireland's equivalent of Woodstock or Lollapalooza. Since then, their career took off and they now tour extensively around the world.

The weather on Saturday was unusually nice by Bay Area standards, prompting Gabriela to facetiously note that San Francisco weather feels "tropical". Darkness wasn't even settling in when the opening set of Xavier Rudd and Izintaba took to the stage at 8PM. The band used a wide assortment of instruments (prominently featuring Rudd on didjeridu) and played six songs in 50 minutes. You can guess what my overall impression of the band is if you notice what the average length of each song comes out to be. While the songs all started out well, they soon overstayed their welcome. The lyrics were repetitive and one song (a ~15 minute epic) made me ask myself "I wonder how much longer this song is". However, I enjoyed the presence of his two bandmates (on drums/bongo and bass guitar) who grooved and provided an upbeat and humble air to their playing. Other members of the audience seemed to have enjoyed their performance more than I did, sending them off with enthusiastic applause at the conclusion of their set.

After a stage change that took a lengthy 20 minute, RodGab took to the stage. In the crowd's roar, they began the night with their popular single Hanuman (first video below). Immediately, the audience began to sway and dance to the music and I found myself unconsciously swaying along as well. Their music was infectious and invited you to dance. They smoldered with passion onstage, with Rodrigo oftentimes looking deeply towards Gabriela while she closed her eyes to be more attuned to the music. That's not to say they were playing within themselves the whole night; quite the contrary, by running in place, jumping up and down, or simply moving to face another part of the crowd, they were able to excite the listeners and put them on a high. They also had the audience participate en masse, asking different sections of the crowd to clap out simple rhythms, which provided the rhythmic accompaniment to one of their songs. In the few times they spoke to the audience, it became obvious that Gabriela was the more articulate of the two but Rodrigo's loss for words was incredibly endearing for the audience.

As awesome as they are, I was worried going in that the duo's playing would begin to sound too similar and tedious after a period of time. After all, empirically, the only things onstage for the whole concert were the two performers and their guitars. However, this fear were quickly allayed, for they are more than capable of creating a kaleidoscope of colors from one guitar. Rodrigo's capricious fingerwork is sweet in sound and he occasionally uses the wah-wah pedal to great effect. Gabriela is a beast on rhythm. By tapping and hitting different parts of the guitar, she creates different percussive sounds for her rhythmic beats. Their set list was incredibly diverse, ranging from flamenco to heavy metal to world music. The two guest artists of the night helped diversify their sound. L. Shankar, probably best known for providing the opening vocals to the TV show Heroes, hypnotized the crowd with his soothing voice. Jazz guitar legend Al di Meola performed a solo before participating in a jam session with RodGab. In both instances, there were technical (i.e. hardware) malfunctions: Shankar's double electric five-string violin was barely audible and one of the Meola's guitar strings weren't being picked up on the amp. Nonetheless, the audience obviously loved the fact they were were there in concert and wildly cheered when the two guest artists left the stage.

For me, the two high points of the concert was when the duo didn't play together. Each performed their own solos that highlighted their fortes. Rodrigo began his solo with a highly intimate and lyrical melody, which elicited many "I love you Rodrigo!" from the audience. The music became more and more excited until his heavy metal influences (and the wah-wah pedal) came back. Even though his solo was pretty damn amazing, Gabriela's solo absolutely blew everyone away. Her right hand technique, perfectly knowing when to strum the chord amidst the flurry of percussive motions, mesmerized everyone. The crowd was in an absolute frenzy when she finished.

They ended the concert right at 11PM with Tamacun (last video below). Due to the theatre curfew, the duo were not able to oblige the appreciative crowd's calls for encores. I really hoped to hear their rendition of Stairway to Heaven (second video below), but alas, that was not on their set list for the night. Regardless, the concert is still one of the best I've ever been to. My friend who went with me to the concert made an interesting comment when she said she loves these two because they are real guitarists. After thinking about this statement for a moment, I wholeheartedly agree. Most mainstream "guitarists" I see nowadays (Taylor Swift immediately comes to mind) are simply using the same strum patterns on the same chord progression over and over again. These pop artists ask what the guitar can do for them, whereas genuine guitarists ask what can they do to further the art of guitar playing. I believe the reason why they have achieved such an enthusiastic following is because their playing is genuine and they do not treat guitar-playing as a means to an end. Rodrigo y Gabriela are consummate musicians and artisans in their own right and I eagerly look forward to the next time they visit the Bay Area.

Artist Portrait: Yuja Wang

Is it just me, or does it seem as if Yuja Wang (王羽佳) came out of nowhere to take the world by storm? I cannot think of another classical music artist who has had a similar meteoric rise to fame. Her accomplishments within these past two years can be read as those of a seasoned artist: she received the prestigious Avery Fisher Career Grant this year, which has been awarded in the past to renown artists such as violinist Gil Shaham, cellist Peter Wiley, and clarinetist Richard Stoltzman; barely a year since the release of her debut recording, she has already scored a Grammy Award nomination in the category Best Instrumental Soloist Performance (Without Orchestra); she is now playing more than 100 concerts a year and is booked until the end 2013; and amongst her fans are luminaries of the classical music world, such as legendary pianist Martha Argerich, who was quoted saying "I normally stay away piano concerts because the majority play everything as if every note should have the same level of intensity [but] Yuja is very different: her shaded dynamic readings are wonderful."

From her website, we learn this 23 year-old Beijing native started playing at the age of six and studied at the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing. She moved to Canada in 2001 to further her studies at the Mount Royal College Conservatory. In 2002, she won the Aspen Music Festival's concerto competition and moved to the United States to study with Gary Graffman at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. Arguably, her biggest break came in March of 2007 when she replaced the ailing Martha Argerich in a subscription series, performing Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No.1 with Charles Dutoit conducting the Boston SO with ecstatic reviews.

I have never been a huge fan of the other two well-known Chinese pianists. Lang Lang's artistry, which has its moments, are oftentimes detracted by his garish acts of showmanship onstage. Yundi Li (rebranded Yundi) is almost the antithesis of Lang Lang, oftentimes too reserved and lacking fire in his playing. Yuja Wang is seemingly the perfect balance of the two, Goldilocks' "just right" choice. It is no surprise then that her style of playing is highly reminiscent of both Argerich and Vladimir Horowitz. Her readings always carry a heightened sense of emotional volatility and her finger technique is dexterous and flawless to the point of being impossibly so. Watch this video of her playing Horowitz's Concert Paraphrase on Mozart's Rondo alla Turca for fun backstage.

By no means does this mean she is only a technical workhorse. Some reviewers have criticized that her concert programming and playing focus too heavily to showcase her technical ability instead of her musical ability. However, similar critiques have been erroneously levied upon the great violinist Jascha Heifetz. Just close your eyes when you listen to Wang's performance and you will experience a tornado of musicality and emotions. Take a look at her performance at the Verbier Festival. The transcriptions of Schubert lieder to start shows how strongly she feels about is able to maintain the melodic line, creating long phrases as if the piano is a bowed instrument in her hands. On her newest album, titled Transformation, she presents a thoughtfully prepared program ranging from Scarlatti to Ravel. Of the performances, her reading of Stravinsky's Three Movements from Petrouchka, is simply the best I have ever heard. Like Argerich said, Wang's playing is full of shading, from the silly and playful opening to the macabre ending. Having already been awarded Deutsche Gramophone's Recording of the Month, I wouldn't be surprised if this album will be nominated for another Grammy.

Much to my disappointment, I missed Yuja's much heralded San Francisco performances at Davies and Herbst Hall this past season but I will be eagerly awaiting her return. In the meantime, recordings and live video recordings will suffice.

CD Review: A Far Cry Golijov Last Round Handel Concerto Grosso No.6 in G Minor, Op.6 Tchaikovsky String Serenade in C Major, Op.48

Like a lot of accidental discoveries, I first heard about A Far Cry (AFC) on YouTube. From their website, we find that they are a small chamber orchestra comprised of 17 young professional musicians (self-named Criers) who seek "the freedom and flexibility of a string quartet as well as the power and beauty of an orchestra." To achieve this total democracy, they utilize a rotating leadership model with no conductor. After listening to their recording, I was won over by how cohesive and passionate the group performs, which is undoubtedly benefited by them limiting themselves to a select few of the highest caliber. Here is the video of AFC performing the finale to Bartok's Divertimento for Strings that first caught my attention.

The first work on the recording is Osvaldo Golijov's (GALL-e-ov) Last Round. Written as a requiem for Astor Piazzolla, this piece is composed in the style of a boxing match (an homage to Piazzolla's pugilistic aspirations when he was younger). The ensemble, a string octet plus bass, is set up such that the two quartets are on opposite sides, like two boxers in a boxing ring. The bassist stands in between the two groups, separating them like a referee. The only other recording I've heard is the great recording made by the St. Lawrence and Ying String Quartet. I have listened to that recording many times so I was interested to see how I would take in AFC's reading. Much to my surprise, I love their interpretation. By no means do I say this to detract from AFC's talents. I say this because once you listen to the same recording many times, you unconsciously assume accept that that is how the piece should be played. These two groups focus on different aspects of the piece, both make convincing arguments for their case. The two most important skills for a boxer are speed and strength. The SLSQ and YSQ represent the speed, "boxing" with unwavering momentum and precision. AFC represents the strength, bringing the characteristic swagger of a boxer and making every stinging accent and forceful gesture count. Both are very different, yet wholly persuasive. However, it is in the second movement that AFC distinguishes itself from SLSQ/YSQ. In this movement, the ensemble as a whole are unified; gone are the testy confrontations and machismo of the first movement. While the SLSQ/YSQ plays beautifully, they still sound like two separate entities trying to say the same thing. AFC has no trouble in this respect, playing as an organic whole rather than individual constituents. The heighten emotional vein created by this cohesion is carried throughout the duration of the movement, never sounding wary or overdone. The result is a reading that far surpasses the popular SLSQ/YSQ recording.

The second piece offered is the G Minor Concerto Grosso from Handel Op.6 set. Here, AFC plays in a romantically Baroque fashion. They observe certain Baroque practices, such as limited vibrato and clipped staccatos, but are not afraid to extend the melodic line or delve into the more romantic aspects of the music when appropriate. Their playing is always respectful and respectable, making sure they never let their emotions egregiously overstep the boundaries of what is proper in Baroque playing. I especially enjoyed their performance of the second movement's baby fugue where their pinpoint articulation sparkles.

To round out this eclectic program, the AFC records one of the best Tchaikovsky String Serenade recordings I have heard. This comes as no surprise since I have already noted their precision and cohesion as a group. Their playing entices you to sway along in the waltz and reflect introspectively in the muted climax in the elegy. The finale to is high-spirited, exciting, and a great way to finish the recording.

With their great performances and acoustic quality, this recording is highly recommended. I look forward to their next release.

Building Your Library: Vivaldi The Four Seasons

Yes, I'm really doing this. "Do we really need a recommendation for this hackneyed, oft-recorded equivalent of classical pop music?" you may ask. To which I reply laconically, yes. The music for this set of concerti can be extremely stimulating if one finds the right recording, completely different from the performances we often hear in commercials for real estate, hotels, and Chinese buffets. To help me weed out the 200+ recordings that are currently commercially available, let me set down some exclusion parameters in my considerations.

The first is I am only looking into recordings made after the year 2000. While there have been good historical albums made by violinist such as Arthur Grumiaux, Salvatore Accardo, and Isaac Stern, their performances tend to be to rather straight-laced, as if their playing against a metronome. The sound quality is also usually pretty dry, suffering from the dated acoustic engineering from the time. This also means I am not considering recordings made during 1985-2000. This 15 year span seems to be a renaissance/transition period of sorts for historically-informed performances (HIP), which redefined the tempi of Baroque pieces to be quicker overall and made the use of ornamentations more prevalent. As such, there sounds to be a lot of experimenting with what works and what does not and, unfortunately, none of the recordings made around these years stand out in my listening sessions. Lastly, I am not giving any consideration to recordings that transcribed the solo part for other instruments (e.g. recording, guitar, etc.) because the majority are tacky and none of the transcriptions are particularly successful.

To decide which recordings I like, I listen specifically for three thins, besides from how well the soloists plays. The first is the soloist's choice in tempo. The pace of the outer movements in older recordings are oftentimes border on moderato rather than a true allegro. The detraction in tempo leads to a loss of the music's kinetic feel, which is what makes these pieces so appealing. The second is the use of ornamentations. Especially in the slow movements, the changes in harmony are separated by long melodic lines, which makes the transitions less awkward. However, the soloist must be sure not to be overzealous in the improvisations; it should be classy (for the lack of a better word) and refrain from egregious and excessive flights of fancy. The last thing is the energy of the orchestra. Nothing is better in Baroque music than an orchestra playing with a ton of spunk and sounding like they're having fun.

The past 3 years have produced a number of new recordings of the Four Seasons. Of the ones that are not as successful include recordings by Joshua Bell, Sarah Chang, and Lara St. John. While they are all well-recorded acoustically, something is lacking in their playing and fails to maintain my interest. It sounds as if they wish to play in a "Modern Baroque" style (Baroque tempi/improvisations/mannerism, but on modern instruments) but do not embrace the style fully enough to make a convincing or compelling recording.

On the other hand, relatively unknown  Amandine Beyer's 2008 recording is great. A HIP recording, her performance is focused more on clarity and sharp articulation. While the slow movement to Winter is a bit hard on the ear, this minor complaint is absolved by the finales, where the textures and details vividly pop off the music.

There have been outlandish recordings as well. Nigel Kennedy's 2004 recording comes to mind. His first recording that he made in 1989 was somewhat revolutionary (both in the positive and negative sense), where his brash style of playing focused more on creating the effects rather than making the music mellifluous. The newer recording is more of the same, where Kennedy takes liberty in adding unwritten crescendos, encourages the orchestra to dig in frequently, and plays with eccentric phrasing. Not totally my cup of tea, but if worth a hear if you can borrow a copy.

By far the oddest version I've heard is the recording by Terje Tønnesen. If Kennedy's readings were only mildly offensive, the unconventionality of Tønnesen's recording might insult listeners enough to drive them to murder. For example, in the last movement of Summer when the thunderstorm arrives, he starts the music with a timpani roll followed by the tamtam.

Now take a listen to what he does in the last movement of Autumn. In the music, hunters and hounds are chasing a wild animal during the annual hunt. Below is the portion where the animal is attempting to escape the hounds and dodge the bullets from the hunters.

While the results are novel, the authenticity of the music is no where near Vivaldi's intent. But again, another curious recording if you can get a hold of a copy.

JEFF RECOMMENDS

For a recording of the Four Seasons on modern instruments, there can be none better than Janine Jansen's 2004 reading with her friends and family accompanying. You can hear that there is a meaning behind everything she does. Her phrasing is thoughtful, illuminating the programmatic nature of the music through her bow rather than kitschy outside effects. Her tempi are perfect for the Modern Baroque approach, and her improvisations are organic without sounding indulgent. While some people dislike Jansen because her playing can be over-the-top at times, her style is perfectly suited for these pieces and will be one of the best available for some time to come.

For a HIP recording, Giuliano Carmignola's newer recording made in 2000 remains king. In true HIP fashion, his tempi are fast even compared to other Baroque recordings. But never does the music sound frantic or on the verge of spinning out of control. The production in tone and assurance in intonation is absolutely firm in Carmignola's hands. Not needing to worry about the performance crashing and burning, listeners can allow the kinetic fury to overtake them, making their eyes dilate in excitement. At a budget price, this recording is a must-have for any collector.

Concert Review: Music@Menlo Aftermath: 1945

Shostakovich String Quartet No.8 in C Minor, Op.110

    Miró Quartet

Britten The Holy Sonnets of John Donne, Op.35

    Matthew Plenk, tenor

    Ken Noda, piano

Strauss Metamorphosen

    Jorja Fleezanis, Lily Francis, violins

    Beth Guterman, Erin Keefe, violas

    David Finckel, Ralph Kirshbaum, cellos

    Scott Pingel, bass

On Tuesday's San Francisco Classical Voice newsletter, there was a contest. You can win two tickets to a Music@Menlo concert if you were one of the first two people to answer the trivia question correctly. Who knew all the random classical music trivia floating in my head would end up helping me score free concert tickets. Having been away from the music scene for a couple of months, this concert was a nice respite from all the job hunting I've been doing.

I have always been a huge fan of Miró Quartet; I have been trying to see them in concert ever since I saw them play in a masterclass with Isaac Stern. Them playing one of my favorite quartets (a piece I featured in a previous post, coincidentally) was just the icing on the cake. After a quick program change announcement by festival co-director Wu Han, the quartet took the stage. When they started to play, I was floored by their homogeneity in tone. It was absolutely stunning and made the starkness of the opening chorale that much more affecting. Furthermore, I was mesmerized by how attuned they were to one another's colors, contrary to the "American" style of quartet playing. Their reading of the first movement was more withdrawn than I'm used to hearing, which was not a bad thing. Even in the radiantly central episode, where first violin David Chang played the beautifully lyrical melody, the mood was more of sadness from remembrances of happier times rather than happiness of past remembrances. The second movement was full of grit, with violist John Largess standing out in an extended viola solo that climbed to stratospheric heights on the C string. The third movement was the highlight of the piece, where everyone had their moment to shine. The interrupting "scream" by second violinist Sandy Yamamoto, with her powerful tone, was jarring and shocking. Largess' decision to employ an extremely dry staccato (almost all stick and no hair) created a percussive effect that made the danse macabre all the more chilling. Cellist Joshua Gindele's effortless playing in the tenor range was otherworldly and his long pedal notes were perfectly controlled, making himself heard without distracting from the other voices. The hall was dead silent when the piece ended, and with a collective exhale, the audience sent the quartet off with a rousing applause.

I went in not knowing the Britten songs at all. The program notes informed the audience that Britten went on tour with the violinist Yehudi Menuhin shortly after the war ended. For the first concert, they performed in front of survivors from the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. The experience moved him very deeply and resulted in him composing the song cycle set to poems of John Donne, where all the poems centered centered around the theme of death, repentance, and reconciliation in faith with God. Tenor Matthew Plenk, renown in the opera world, was powerful and impressive in his singing. Even in the quietest moments of the cycle, his tone was pure and reverberant. In the louder passages, his sound pierced through the air and had a visceral effect on the listener's body. The song cycle was widely ranging, in terms of vocal range, dynamics, style, and tempi. It is the Britten we love (or hate), with angular, dissonant music juxtaposed with lyrically beautiful moments of respite. Watching how Plenk handles each song with ease is a sight to see in itself and I was extremely moved by his singing of the third song ("O might those sighes and teares") in particular. However, pianist Ken Noda was somewhat a liability in his accompaniment. The faster passages came out uneven and muffled, which he seemed to try to cover up with idiosyncratic theatrics. There were moments where I felt his playing was on a completely different plane relative to Plenk's, which is a pity because Plenk was doing some tremendous things with the music. However, the complaint is minor and I still thoroughly enjoyed the performance.

The only performance that didn't quite take off was the Strauss, which is unfortunate because I really wanted to like it. Perhaps this is because I recently performed the piece with UC Berkeley Symphony, but there were things that just didn't move me the way that I hope it would. The piece is a requiem for the physical and cultural ruin of Germany after the second World War. In Metamorphosen, Strauss takes two themes, one being heavily influenced by Beethoven's Eroica symphony, and slowly subjects them various changes. Structurally, the piece can be divided into three parts (or phases of the metamorphosis) and is played as one continuous movement. The divided parts can be viewed as a central animato section being bookended by two elegiac adagio sections. Moreover, within each section, there are fluxes in terms of emotional intensity and tempo. The two aspects of the performance that made it not as successful as it could have been were the pacing and ensemble of the piece.

With all the episodes within sections going on, it is easy to see how difficult it can be to pace the music as a collective group amongst seven people. The tempo in the beginning was much too slow. Just like talking in an overly slow manner eventually loses the listener's attention, the melodic line was stretched to the point of incoherence. Furthermore, the piece is composed such that the music should gain momentum up until the last adagio section. However, the group had a knack of stopping before transitioning into each new section, completely breaking the momentum and flow of the music. Even when the music instructs doppio tempo, the music becomes only slightly faster rather than doubly fast. By starting out slow and breaking the continuity of the piece, the performance never picked up speed and lost the sense of urgency that is integral to the piece.

My second disappointment was with ensemble playing itself. In the few times the whole group played as one, such as at the end of the doppio tempo, the sound was amazing. These sections unified the group, resulting in big chords that resonated with power and beauty. However, once the voices/parts become more soloistic and individualized, the overall feel of the piece becomes similarly fragmented. There are times when it felt as if everyone was playing their hearts out, but playing on different emotional levels because their part is different from the others. Consequently, some of the cooler inner-voice moments were washed out by the wave of sound. However, I must give props to Lily Francis, the second violinist in the group. Since I played this before, my ear was gravitating towards certain melodic passages, and in the few times that Francis had the solo line, she played with pathos and abandon.

After all is said and done, the concert was still extremely enjoyable. After last night's performance, I look forward to catching the Miró Quartet next time they're in town. Also looking forward to trying to win more tickets from SFCV, because who doesn't love free admission to great concerts?

Dear Diary:

While the feeling ebbs away more and more each year, this time of year (this week specifically) always reminds me of PACO (Palo Alto Chamber Orchestra) Camp. It's hard not to to be nostalgic of the place where I attribute the majority of my musical growth. For four summers, I traveled to Monte Toyon in Aptos, CA as a member of PACO. Secluded from civilization and outside distractions for a week, it was a time of music making, inspiration, and bonding amongst peers and friends.

Throughout the past few years, there have always been small things, whether it be sounds or smells, that opens long dormant doorways to memories stored in the recesses of my mind. For example, I remember sitting in my dorm my sophomore year of college, performing some preliminary research for an engineering project. Stuffy and warm, I opened the window right next to me. A wave of cold, moist air came through the window, which sent me back in time.

It's my first camp, back in 2001. I woke up at 7AM. My cabin mates, fearing mosquitoes or the night's chill, has hermetically sealed the room. With eight warm bodies contributing their fair share of carbon dioxide, the room became incredibly warm and muggy. I got out of bed, threw on a jacket and went outside, where I was somewhat rudely welcomed by the chilly fog nesting above the decades old redwood trees that guarded the campsite. Breathing in the cold, moist air, my nose quickly became numb trying to acclimate to the two drastically different environments. I start to walk, down the small hill, eventually sticking right onto the gravelly path instead of the paved one; for some reason, I've always preferred the gravel path. Even the crunch, crunch-ing beneath my feet sounds musical in this place. Under the overhang of branches, I continue until I approached the end of this path. It was at this time, every morning without fail, I would hear the tink tinkerings of the piano in Helgesson Hall. Paul Hersh (does he ever sleep?) is up already, practicing music to be featured later on in that day's masterclass or music he is performing at a music festival the week after. I would take a seat right next to the entrance to the hall, close my eyes, and surreptitiously listen in on his playing. It's my little secret my first few years of camp. I had the pleasure of waking up every morning listening to Paul Hersh play piano.

***

There are times when, if my mood is right, listening to pieces I've listened to dozens of times would remind me of PACO Camp. The first movement of the Brahms G Major Sextet, with its beautiful and ethereal quality, still reminds me of looking up at the darkened sky amongst the towering redwoods, constantly hiding being fogged behind my cold breath. The first movement of Schubert's Eb Quartet reminds me of the sunny times at camp, when everyone is smiling and it was a pleasure just to be in the presence of friends. The slow movement to Beethoven's Op.18 No.1 reminds me of my pubescent brooding that sometimes comes due to one drama or another. But, no matter what, the piece that I remember the most vividly, is the performance of the Mendelssohn Octet.

It was the Friday of camp in 2001, right after lunch time. It had not been a full two days since news spread that the founder, Bill Whitson, has passed away. Emotions were still running raw. However, instead of letting the campers grieve, the counselors wisely opted to break the somber atmosphere by celebrating the essence of PACO Camp. As cheesy at it sounds, the power of chamber music and friends will heal all. Eight of the counselors rounded up eight student volunteers, and together, they sightread the Mendelssohn Octet in front of the whole camp. The opening, so ebullient, so joyous, broke everyone out of their reverie and its conclusion drew the loudest cheers and applause I remember hearing at camp. Ever since then, that piece has remained dear to my heart.

***

Someone once aptly described PACO Camp as my Neverland. Indeed, I feel cheated that I was only able to attend four camps as a camper where my friends have attended upwards to ten. Fortunately unfortunately, Neverland doesn't exist and we all have to grow up sometime.

It's been three years since my last visit. The dynamics of camp has undoubtedly changed. Even the people I used to know there have graduated or transferred to another orchestra. Will I go back to visit this year? I still haven't decided. This will be the last year to do so though; after this year, the last of the remaining members of camp will be gone. Who knows? It would be nice to be amongst the redwoods again, sightreading the night away.

Artist Portrait: Sol Gabetta

Sol Gabetta. Even the name rolls off the tongue mellifluously. From her website, we find that this 29 year old Argentinean cellist, who is of French and Russian descent currently residing in Switzerland and continuing her cello studies in Berlin, has a couple of accolades to her name. She has won the International Tchaikovsky Competition (including the Natalia Gutman prize for best musical interpretation) and the ARD competition in Munich. However, the Crédit Suisse Young Artist Award that she won in 2004 was the launching point for her career. Along with a sizeable prize money of 75,000CHF (around $72,000), she also won a concerto performance with the Lucerne Festival Orchestra under Valery Gergiev. Since then, her stock has continued to steadily rise.

Yet even with all these accomplishments, it is surprising that she is still relatively unknown amongst my musical friends. Granted, I had not heard of her either until a few months ago when I picked up her new recording of the Elgar Concerto. Like most people, I had assumed nobody was ever going to surpass Jacqueline du Pré's legendary 1965 recording. So I approached the recording more out of curiosity rather than trying to find a Goliath-slaying interpretation that would usurp du Pré's. Much to my surprise, that was exactly what I found. For the first time in a long time, I sat through the whole concerto, riveted and overwhelmed. The opening of the concerto feels like a punch in a gut; the sound is so penetrating and visceral. The wickedly difficult second movement is effortless in her hands. She plays with such lightness in touch and variety of colors that it felt like I was hearing the music for the first time. The way she paces the moments in the last movement before the opening recitative returns is incredibly affecting. I still get goosebumps and chills every time she finally replays the recitative. The other pieces on the CD (Dvorak Rondo, Respighi Andante con Varizioni, and a few Elgar miniatures) are also gems amongst the diamond.

Fascinated with her playing, I went out and bought her debut recording. My favorite recording of Tchaikovsky's Rococo Variations and Saint-Saens Cello Concerto No.1 has been, for the past 10 years, Han-Na Chang's own 1996 debut recording. Not only does Gabetta benefit from better recording quality (in terms of acoustics and balance), her playing is more forceful than Chang's without ever sounding forced. It is as if Gabetta is asking the listener to meet her halfway, holding us accountable and asking us to listen with the same amount of emotional investment that she is performing with. Gabetta is a daredevil at times, throwing caution to the wind when the excitement calls for it. For example, the way she attacks those dastardly difficult octaves in the final moments of the coda of the Rococo Variations makes you sit at the edge of your seat.

Thanks to the power of YouTube, there is a great video of her performing the Elgar in its entirety. One of my favorites moments was watching her egg on the cello section in the last movement (0:34 in the third video) with the same abandoned swaying that Jacqueline du Pré was so famous for.