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Photo by Stephanie Berger
At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Friday, June 6th, I had the exceptional privilege to attend a superb recital—presented by Carnegie Hall—of extraordinary lieder by Franz Schubert, sung by the magnificent soprano Lise Davidsen, splendidly accompanied by pianist James Baillieu.
The event started very auspiciously with "Am Bach im Frühlinge," D. 361, set to a text by Franz von Schober, one of the composer’s closest friends. Next was "Ganymed," D. 544, the first of numerous settings of poems by Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe, a towering figure in world literature—this lyric was notable for its surprising homoeroticism. The following "Der Zwerg," D. 771, with a text by Matthias von Collin, was remarkable for its suggestion of a perverse sexuality. The succeeding "Gretchen am Spinnrade," D. 118, from Goethe’s masterwork, Faust, is one of the composer’s most celebrated works and was a highlight of the evening.
This preceded a series of settings of poems from the same author’s immense Bildungsroman, Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, which served as the basis for the great Wim Wenders film from 1975, Wrong Move, which lamentably was recently withdrawn from circulation. The earliest of the series and the first to be performed this evening was "Kennst du das Land," D. 321. The next three selections were from a single work of 1826, Gesänge aus Wilhelm Meister, D. 877, beginning with the second version of “Heiss mich nicht reden,” followed by the fourth and final version of “So last mich scheinen,” and concluding with the last of six settings of “Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt.” The first half of the program closed with another famous song, “Death and the Maiden,” D. 531, set to verse by Matthias Claudius.
The second half of the recital was maybe even stronger, opening with Goethe’s "Der Musensohn," D. 764, and "Lachen und Weinen," D. 777, set to a text from Friedrich Rückert’s Oriental Roses. (He was one of the better poets that the composer adapted and famously was the source for many amazing songs by Gustav Mahler.) Another of the finest moments from the event was the performance of another beautiful Goethe setting, "Suleika I," D. 720. The next selection,
"Auf dem See," D. 543, was from a text by the same writer, and this was followed by "Der blinde Knabe," D. 833, set to a poem by Jakob Nikolaus Craigher de Jachelutta, itself a translation of 18th-century English verse by Colley Cibber.
The pinnacle of the event was probably the next song, another Rückert setting, "Du bist die Ruh," D. 776, one of the composer’s most glorious creations—it was very memorably recorded in recent years by the amazing countertenor, Andreas Scholl. The recital continued with "Die Allmacht," D. 852, from a text by Johann Ladislaus Pyrker, and
"Die junge Nonne," D. 828, from another Craigher poem. The next selection, "Erlkönig," D. 328, another Goethe setting, is one of Schubert’s most famous and celebrated songs. The program proper ended with one of its most exquisite works, "Litanei auf das Fest aller Seelen," D. 343, from a text by Johann Georg Jacobi. Enthusiastic applause elicited two marvelous encores written by the same composer: another Schober setting, “A die Musik,” D. 547, and “An die Natur,” D. 372.
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| Kara Young and Ayo Edebiri in Proof (photo: Matthew Murphy) |
Photo by Chris Lee
At the wonderful Stern Auditorium, on the night of Friday, May 29th, I had the great privilege of attending a superb concert—presented by Carnegie Hall as part of its festival, United in Sound: America at 250—played by the outstanding musicians of the Philadelphia Orchestra, under the expert direction of Marin Alsop.
The event started brilliantly with an exceptionally satisfying realization of Ludwig van Beethoven’s magnificent Symphony No. 7 in A Major, Op. 92, which was completed in 1812. The composer referred to it as “one of the happiest products of my poor talents.” Richard Wagner described it thus:
All tumult, all yearning and storming of the heart, become here the blissful insolence of joy, which carries us away with bacchanalian power through the roomy space of nature, through all the streams and seas of life, shouting in glad self-consciousness as we sound throughout the universe the daring strains of this human sphere-dance. The symphony is the Apotheosis of the Dance itself: It is Dance in its highest aspect, the loftiest deed of bodily motion, incorporated into an ideal mold of tone.
The initial movement’s extended, Poco sostenuto introduction has a certain nobility even as it is pregnant with tension; its Vivace main body is largely jubilant and soul-stirring but the composer’s mastery of contrast accounts for its sustained sense of drama throughout—it closes forcefully and affirmatively. The ensuing, celebrated Allegretto is solemn and rhythmic, building in intensity, but alternating with sunnier, almost pastoral sections, and features an impressive fugue as it approaches its finish; it concludes abruptly, if somewhat tentatively. The succeeding scherzo, marked Presto, is dance-like and also lively, even rousing, but the Assai meno presto Trios have a stately quality—it too ends quite suddenly. The Allegro con brio finale is propulsive, even breathless in momentum, and generally exultant in character; it closes triumphantly.
The second half of the evening was at least equally memorable. It began with three marvelous works for a small jazz ensemble led by trumpeter Wynton Marsalis: Carlos Henríquez’s "La Cumbia de Paz," Nduduzo Makhathini’s "Unembeza" (arranged by Marcus Printup), and Elliot Mason’s "Origin."
The Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra then joined the Philadelphia Orchestra for a fabulous performance of three terrific excerpts from Marsalis’s The Jungle (Symphony No. 4), from 2016. The composer has said the following about the piece:
New York City is the most fluid, pressure-packed, and cosmopolitan metropolis the modern world has ever seen.
The dense mosaic of all kinds of people everywhere doing all kinds of things encourages you to “stay in your lane,” but the speed, freedom, and intensity of our relationships to each other—and to the city itself—forces us onto a collective superhighway unlike any other in our country.
About the first movement, he added:
“The Big Scream (Black Elk Speaks)” represents nervous energy, the primal soul of our city as maintained across time. It reflects on our Native American roots and the many forms of strife we have endured in an attempt to negotiate this small space with and without each other.
It is often urgent in expression, but also leisurely at times, and finishes quietly. On the fifth movement, he said:
Although we are gritty and brusque by day, we can also be romance, elegance, and sophistication by night. “Us” is what it means to be with, against, and up against another.
It is more relaxed and charming and becomes more playful as it unfolds, and concludes gently too. On the sixth movement, he continues:
The city is driven ever forward by more and more profit and the myth of unlimited growth for the purpose of ownership and seclusion. Some form of advertisement occupies every available space. “Struggle in the Digital Market” asks, “Will we seek and find more equitable long-term solutions ... or perish?”
This is energetic, even agitated at first, but it soon reflects a brighter outlook, ending softly.
The artists deservedly received a standing ovation.




