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Dalia Stasevska conducts Joshua Bell. Photo by Chris Lee
At Lincoln Center’s excellent David Geffen Hall, on the morning of Friday, November 7th, I had the privilege to attend a fine concert presented by the New York Philharmonic, under the distinguished direction of Dalia Stasevska.
The event started brilliantly with Aaron Copland’s extraordinary, stirring Fanfare for the Common Man. The celebrated Joshua Bell then entered the stage for an impressive performance as soloist of Thomas de Hartmann’s unsung Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 66, from 1943. The Largo introduction to the initial movement is lyrical and seemingly wistful; it transitions to a much livelier, playful section of the Allegro main body, but the more elegiac music returns, followed by an extended, more forceful—even martial—episode that, after a solemn cadenza, concludes with a sad dénouement. The slower, ensuing Andante religioso is at times anguished but ultimately affirmative, closing gently, while the more folkish Menuet fantasque that follows contains a lilting, dance-like Trio. The energetic Finale, marked Vivace, builds to a dazzling climax. Enthusiastic applause elicited a delightful encore from the violinist and the ensemble: Frédéric Chopin’s Nocturne, Op. 9, No. 2, arranged by Bell and B. Wallace.
The second half of the concert was even stronger beginning with the admirably realized US premiere of Bohdana Frolyak’s striking Let There Be Light, from 2023. The composer contributed this note on the piece for its premiere:
All the music I write these days is about Ukraine: about its beauty, its uniqueness — and about light, which has to defeat darkness.
This single-movement work for symphony orchestra is quite a dynamic composition, symbolizing light that takes a path through darkness and back to light. This path is reflected in the musical language of the work. A calm beginning, with lyrical cello and violin solos over a background of coloristic harmonies in strings, and with these solos imitated in woodwinds, leads to a disturbing central section and then a dramatic culmination, at the peak of which we hear a melody in violins and full orchestra with expressive solos for strings.
Before the end of the work, where peace and an atmosphere of light take the lead, the music immerses itself in dissonant intervals and chords, as if to remind us of the darkness that rules the world.
The piece closes with a calm, enlightened coda, built on the basis of a clear C major, supplemented with layers of additional intervals and chords which, however, don't interfere with the “sound” of light and quietness.
Probably, the highlight of the program, however, was its beautifully enacted final selection: Benjamin Britten’s remarkable Sinfonia da Requiem, Op. 20, from 1940. About it, in an interview from that year, he explained:
I'm making it just as anti-war as possible. I don't believe you can express social or political or economic theories in music, but by coupling new music with well known musical phrases, I think it's possible to get over certain ideas. ...
One's apt to get muddled discussing such things — all I'm sure of is my own anti-war conviction as I write it.
He also contributed the following commentary on the piece for its premiere:
I. Lacrymosa. A slow marching lament in a persistent 6/8 rhythm with a strong tonal center on D. There are three main motives: (1) a syncopated, sequential theme announced by the 'cellos and answered by a solo bassoon; (2) a broad theme, based on the interval of a major seventh; (3) alternating chords on flute and trombones, outlined by the piano and harps. The first section of the movement is quietly pulsating; the second a long crescendo leading to a climax based on the first 'cello theme. There is no pause before —
II. Dies irae. A form of Dance of Death, with occa-sional moments of quiet marching rhythm. The dominating motif of this movement is announced at the start by the flutes and includes an important tremolando figure. Other motives are a triplet repeated-note figure in the trumpets, a slow, smooth tune on the saxophone, and a livelier syncopated one in the brass. The scheme of the movement is a series of climaxes of which the last is the most powerful, causing the music to disintegrate and to lead directly to —
III. Requiem aeternam. Very quietly, over a background of solo strings and harps, the flutes announce the quiet D major tune, which is the principal motif of the movement.
There is a middle section in which the strings play a flowing melody. This grows to a short climax, but the opening tune is soon resumed and the work ends quietly in a long, sustained clarinet tone.
The first movement, marked Andante ben misurato, begins dramatically and portentously—a certain lugubriousness is sustained throughout and it closes quietly. The Allegro con fuoco, second movement is more impassioned and turbulent, while the finale, with a tempo of Andante molto tranquil, is more subdued—the music intensifies but ends very softly.
The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.
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| The cast of Liberation (photo: Little Fang) |
Photo by Fadi Kheir
At the splendid Stern Auditorium, on the night of Thursday, November 6th, I had the privilege to attend a wonderful concert—presented by Carnegie Hall—of masterworks by Ludwig van Beethoven, including several rarely heard in live performance, featuring the excellent Orchestra of St. Luke’s—admirably conducted by Raphaël Pichon—along with several impressive singers and the outstanding Clarion Choir led by its Director, Steven Fox.
The event started promisingly with the seldom rendered Geistlicher Marsch from the lesser-known incidental music for Friedrich Schiller’s play König Stephan, Op. 117, from 1811. This was followed by selections from the poetry of Walt Whitman, recited by Alex Rosen. Another pleasurable surprise was Friedrich Silcher’s Persicher Nachtgesang from 1846—here arranged by Robert Percival—after the magnificent Allegretto from Beethoven’s extraordinary Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92; Rosen sung the basso part along with mezzo-soprano Beth Taylor, tenor Laurence Kilsby and The Clarion Choir.
Two beautiful movements ensued from the equally undervalued incidental music from 1815 for the play, Lenore Prohaska, by Johann Friedrich Duncker: first the Romance sung by soprano Liv Redpath, and then the Melodrama. Taylor then recited an excerpt from “Caged Bird” by Maya Angelou, whose autobiography was praised by literary critic Harold Bloom.
The highlight of the evening, inevitably, was its final work, a sterling account of Beethoven’s incredible Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, Op. 125, completed in 1824, which employed all the soloists as well as the chorus. Most of the marvelous initial movement—marked Allegro ma non troppo, un poco maestoso—which opens mysteriously, and seemingly inchoately, interrupted by forceful statements of the primary theme, is alternately lilting and propulsive; it finishes somewhat suddenly and emphatically. The succeeding, often exhilarating and sometimes playful Scherzo—its tempo is Molto vivace—is the most transumptively Mendelssohnian of the movements and it too has a driving rhythm and ends abruptly; the contrasting Trio section has an almost pastoral quality. Like many of the composer’s lyrical slow movements, the one in this piece, an Adagio molto e cantabile, contains some of its most heavenly music and concludes relatively quietly. In the glorious Finale, after what Richard Wagner described as a “fanfare of terror,” the score has a tentative quality until the stirring statement of the famous theme setting Friedrich Schiller’s 1785 poem, the “Ode to Joy,” whereupon the basso enters; it closes triumphantly.
The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.




