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Aanya Sengupta performs with the Juilliard Jazz Orchestra
At Lincoln Center’s excellent Peter Jay Sharp Theater, on the night of Friday, October 16th, I had the incomparable pleasure to attend a superb concert devoted to the fabulous music of Count Basie, here performed by the extraordinary Juilliard Jazz Orchestra.
The event started delightfully with the classic “Who, Me?” written and arranged by Frank Foster—who later led the Basie band—famously recorded on the celebrated 1959 studio album, Chairman of the Board. A terrific vocalist, Aanya Sengupta, then entered the stage to splendidly sing the 1929 “Blue Devil Blues” by Don Stovall, originally recorded as a B-side by the Oklahoma City Blue Devils—of which ensemble, Basie was a member—for which it was sung by Jimmy Rushing. That group also recorded the next selection, “Squabblin’,” which Basie himself composed and which was the A-side of that release.
The next tune, “Prince of Wails,” was written by bandleader Bennie Moten, whose orchestra Basie joined in 1929. This was followed by another composition recorded by Moten’s Kansas City Orchestra, “Toby.” After this, “Blue and Sentimental” was played, which Basie co-wrote with eminent songwriters Jerry Livingston and Mack David. The first set closed enjoyably with two of Basie’s most popular standards, beginning with “Jumpin’ at the Woodside,” from 1938, followed by “One O’Clock Jump,” from 1937.
The second half of the evening—which, in contrast to the first, focused on Basie’s later, “New Testament” period—was at least equally memorable, opening with another Foster tune, “Blues in Hoss’ Flat,” a recording of which also appears on Chairman of the Board—Jerry Lewis brilliantly mimed to this music in a masterful sequence in his imaginative 1961 film, The Errand Boy. The succeeding “Corner Pocket” from 1955 is another jazz standard that Sarah Vaughan recorded with Basie’s orchestra. A highlight of the program was the return of Sengupta to perform three more wonderful songs, starting with “Every Day I Have the Blues,” made famous by Joe Williams. She followed this with the comparably charming “We'll Be Together Again” from 1945, which was composed by Carl T. Fischer, with lyrics by Frankie Laine. She closed out her brief set winningly with the 1926 standard, “‘Deed I Do,” which Basie recorded with Ella Fitzgerald for their 1963 album, Ella and Basie!
The next selection, the remarkable “The Kid from Red Bank,” was written by Neal Hefti and appeared on another acclaimed album, The Atomic Mr. Basie from 1958. This preceded “Count Me In” which was a track on the 1964 album, Basie Land, with all music by Billy Byers. The penultimate composition in this concert was “Way Out Basie” by Ernie Wilkins, an important arranger for Basie, and the program concluded marvelously with “In a Mellow Tone,” a number written by Basie’s friendly rival and sometime collaborator, the great Duke Ellington, in another arrangement by Foster.
The artists were deservedly, enthusiastically applauded.
Photo by Chris Lee
At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Tuesday, October 13th, I had the inestimable pleasure of attending a fabulous concert—presented by Carnegie Hall as the first performance in this season’s cycle of the complete symphonies of Gustav Mahler—featuring the superb Philadelphia Orchestra under the brilliant direction of the irrepressible Yannick Nézet-Séguin.
The event started dazzlingly with an extraordinary account of Anton Webern’s magnificent, too seldom played Im Sommerwind, idyll for large orchestra, from 1904, which is often sumptuous and is surprisingly variegated in mood and texture, recalling the tone poems of Richard Strauss. Also outstanding, if projecting an ethos rather at odds with the other works on the program, was a marvelous realization of the New York premiere of Julia Wolfe’s often thrilling Liberty Bell from last year—co-commissioned by this venue—which has idiomatic elements drawn from popular musical forms. The composer, who was present to receive the audience’s acclaim, has said the following in connection with this piece:
I grew up in a small town north of Philadelphia. The image of the silent cracked Liberty Bell is emblazoned in my memory.
She wrote this as well in her own program note:
My Liberty Bell is not silent. The over 100 musicians on stage are raucous and loud. Battles between independent rhythmic lines form a jagged composite whole. Metal chimes and pitched bell plates are struck to resonate and ring out. Obtaining liberty is not a quiet, tidy process. It is a messy, boisterous, ongoing, interlocking struggle. How can a piece of music embody and communicate the elusive reach for the most basic tenet of the founding of the country? The idea of liberty is everywhere—imprinted on coins, decorating postage stamps, declared in poetry and song, sprinkled through speeches. Music is my way of adding to the clamor. I shout out perseverance, grab tight to optimism, and search for a way forward. Taking the bell’s inscription literally, “unto all the inhabitants thereof,” the proclamation speaks to all who reach for the promise of liberty.
The second half of the evening was even more spectacular, consisting of an astonishing version of Mahler’s incomparable Symphony No. 5 in C-Sharp Minor, the final revision of which was completed in 1904. In one of his last letters he stated: “It is clear that all the experience I had gained in writing the first four symphonies completely let me down in this one—for an entirely new style demanded a new technique.” The initial movement begins with a stirring fanfare that becomes increasingly dramatic, ushering in recurring waltz-like music that is punctuated by bursts of turbulence that sometimes recapitulate the thematic material of the opening, until it ends abruptly. The tempestuousness of the first movement is continued in much of the closely related second, which also recycles motifs from the earlier one, and here too, there are lyrical passages; the music builds to a triumphant climax before concluding softly in a more serene, quasi-pastoral dénouement.
About the next movement, the composer said:
The Scherzo is an accursed movement! It will have a long history of suffering! For 50 years conductors will take it too fast and make nonsense of it. The public—oh heavens—how should it react to this chaos that is eternally giving birth to a world that then perishes in the next movement, to these primordial sounds, to this blustering, bellowing, roaring ocean, to these dancing stars, to these shimmering, flashing, breathing waves.
It is characteristically playful and indeed cheerful—and here too there are waltz-like interludes—but it is shot through with suspenseful, even portentous, measures, as well as irenic episodes; it finishes joyfully, even boisterously, with some suddenness. The ensuing, celebrated Adagietto is glorious and celestial, but also with more emotional moments of intense urgency—this reaches a stunning apotheosis, closing very quietly. The Rondo-Finale starts with another, although more bucolic, fanfare—this movement too has a sunny radiance, growing more exuberant at length, ending exultantly.
The artists deservedly were rapturously applauded.




