The New York Philharmonic Plays a "Lakeside Game" at Lincoln Center

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Published on Tuesday, 24 March 2026 13:11

Written by Jack Angstreich

Photo by Chris Lee

At Lincoln Center’s wonderful David Geffen Hall, on the afternoon of Sunday, November 16th, 2025, I had the privilege to attend a splendid concert presented by the New York Philharmonic under the sterling direction of David Robertson.

The event started auspiciously with one of the world premiere performances of Caroline Mallonnee’s arresting, remarkably orchestrated Lakeside Game—which was commissioned by this ensemble (as part of Project 19) along with the Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra, the Johnstown Symphony Orchestra, and the Bravo! Vail Music Festival—here admirably rendered. The composer has said the following about the work:

The piece was inspired by childhood memories of walks along the shore of Lake Michigan in Door County, Wisconsin. While not meant to be a literal illustration, Lakeside Game evokes a summer day during which children play on a rocky beach, skip stones, and chase one another. One can imagine the water, dappled with sunlight and always changing.

She was present to receive the audience’s acclaim.

An extraordinary soloist, Nicola Benedetti, then joined the musicians for a dazzling account of the exciting Concerto in D for Violin and Orchestra composed in 2015 by her husband, the celebrated jazz artist Wynton Marsalis. I here reproduce his comments on the work:

This piece was written for Nicola Benedetti. It takes inspiration from her life as a traveling performer and educator who enlightens and delights communities all over the world with the magic of virtuosity. Scored for symphony orchestra, with tremendous respect for the demands of that instrument, it is nonetheless written from the perspective of a jazz musician and New Orleans bluesman. We believe that all human beings are connected in the essential fundamentals of life: birth, death, love, and laughter; that our most profound individual experiences are also universal (especially pain); and acknowledging the depth of that pain in the context of a groove is a powerful first step towards healing. 

Nicky asked me to “invite a diverse world of people into the experience of this piece. Because finding and nurturing common musical ground between differing arts and musical styles has been a lifetime fascination of mine, I was already trying to welcome them. It may seem simple enough, but bringing different perspectives together is never easy. The shared vocabulary between the jazz orchestra and the modern orchestra sits largely in the areas of texture and instrumental technique. Form, improvisation, harmony, and methods of thematic development are very different. The biggest challenges are: how to orchestrate the nuance and virtuosity in jazz and blues for an ensemble not versed in those styles (a technical issue); and how to create a consistent groove without a rhythm section (a musical / philosophical issue). 

Because modern living is an integrated experience, it is never difficult to discover organic connections. Turning those insights into something meaningful and playable, however, is another story. It has to be lived and digested. That's why I looked for real-life examples in the history of jazz–symphonic collaborations and to the environment and experience that connect Nicky and me. I considered aspects of her Scottish ancestry, the great Afro-American abolitionist Frederick Douglass's love of legendary Scottish poet Robert Burns, my love and inextinguishable respect for Scottish baritone saxophonist Joe Temperley (and his gleeful recitation of pungent limericks), and the luminous but obscure achievements of Afro-American keyed bugler Francis Johnson, father of the American cornet tradition and one of the first published American composers … who was also a fine fiddler. These sources led me to reconnect with the Anglo-Celtic roots of Afro-American music. 

The piece opens with Nicky whispering a solo note before the orchestra enters, as if to say, “And so it came to pass” or “Once upon a time.” Then we are into a form constructed in fours — as in the four corners of the earth, where her travels take her. Each of the four movements, Rhapsody, Rondo Burlesque, Blues, and Hootenanny, reveals a different aspect of her dream, which becomes reality through the public storytelling that is virtuosic performance.

Movement 1, Rhapsody, is a complex dream that becomes a nightmare, progresses into peacefulness and dissolves into ancestral memory.

Movement 2, Rondo Burlesque, is a syncopated, New Orleans jazz, calliope, circus clown, African gumbo, Mardi Gras party in odd meters.

Movement 3, Blues, is the progression of flirtation, courtship, intimacy, sermonizing, final loss, and abject loneliness that is out there to claim us all.

Movement 4, Hootenanny, is a raucous, stomping and whimsical barnyard throw-down. She excites us with all types of virtuosic chicanery and gets us intoxicated with revelry and then … goes on down the Good King's highway to other places yet to be seen or even foretold. As in the blues and jazz tradition, our journey ends with the jubilance and uplift of an optimistic conclusion.

The initial movement, which opens very quietly and lyrically, is kaleidoscopic in its range of moods and styles and the same can be said of the whole; it ends softly and unexpectedly. The next movement, which begins energetically, even agitatedly, is also often rambunctious—it features an elaborate cadenza with a percussion accompaniment. The third movement is more subdued at the outset and strongly recalls the music of George Gershwin. The finale delightfully evokes a country square dance, ending very gently with the violinist exiting the stage. Enthusiastic applause elicited a wonderful encore from Benedetti: an arrangement of “Auld Lang Syne” by Robert Burns who, she explained, was from the same county in Scotland as she is. 

The second half of the program was maybe even more memorable: a superb realization of Igor Stravinsky’s magnificent 1911 version of his ballet score, Petrushka, with Eric Huebner as pianist. The composer discussed the work’s genesis as follows: 

I had in my mind a distinct picture of a puppet, suddenly endowed with life, exasperating the patience of the orchestra with diabolical cascades of arpeggi. The orchestra in turn retaliates with menacing trumpet-blasts. The outcome is a terrific noise which reaches its climax and ends in the sorrowful and querulous collapse of the poor puppet. … One day Ieapt for joy. I had indeed found my title — Petrushka, the immortal and unhappy hero of every fair in all countries.

The ensemble was duly rewarded with a standing ovation.

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