Friday, May 20, 2016

Evgeny Kissin’s Well-Tempered Departure

Pianist Evgeny Kissin, concluding the Perspectives series at Carnegie Hall’s 125th anniversary season – which also celebrated his illustrious pianistic solo debut here 25 years ago – wooed audiences once more with Rachmaninoff’s beloved Piano Concerto No. 2, before taking a previously announced leave of absence from concertizing in the USA. The concert amounted to a farewell observation on the series’ narrative, revealing the artist’s uniquely personal artistic journey. Capture by Simone Massoni    
This article was published by the author on Blogcritics Magazine
Since that memorable Carnegie Hall debut, with people waving hundred-dollar bills to scalp a ticket on mobbed street blocks around the sold-out concert hall, New Yorkers’ enthusiasm for Kissin does not seem to have diminished in the least. Coming out of the Soviet Union as a prodigal talent with staggering musicality, his reputation had preceded his eagerly awaited appearances before both Russian and world audiences; and perhaps like no other, this pure Romantic has united them in an ecstatic communal sense.
It was Carnegie Hall’s centennial season, 1990-91, and Kissin, age 19, was – as in the current season – the notable opening act, one of the very few artists who had never had to ask, “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” He simply arrived, and performed annually from then on.
“What makes a performance great?” I once asked him, and he simply remarked: “It has to be convincing.” Carnegie Hall initiated its Perspectives series in 1999 to further explore the complexity of what makes an artist great by showcasing leading artists’ individual interests and bringing in their musical friends. The previous pianist the series focused on was Sir Andràs Schiff in 2011-12.
This season’s in-depth close-up opened channels of discovery into Kissin’s enigmatic persona and vocation on stage, in five different programs.
Beyond bringing some of the musical milestones of Kissin’s career full circle, the series portrayed the artist who at 44, unabashed by the persistent trail of Wunderkind status, has proven he can carve out new paths of artistic growth and a remarkable personal departure. His choices of programs are always “a matter of love,” and it is the kind of intimate, sanctified love that does not warrant further conversation. Notwithstanding his free spirit he feels: “Talking about all kind of things including sex, is great fun – talking about music seems vulgar.”
Knowing how close to his heart his programs are – he usually spends a full touring season with each one – one had to wonder why Chopin, with whose concertos the pianist skyrocketed to stardom and who, as Kissin confesses when pressed on the subject, is the closest to his heart, would not appear in any of his featured programs. Bookending the series with two of the arch-romantic Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff concerts, Kissin instead curated his classical solo recitals with works by Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms in conjunction with the Spanish composers Albéniz and Larregla.
Highlighting his extraordinary temperament en galore with the Spanish rhythmic idiom added a most welcome geographic twist to the Germanic precursors. The recital program, which was performed twice that same week in November, was legendary not only because his “Appassionata” was nothing short of a revelation, but because a repeat performance of the same repertoire, selling out the house twice in a row, had till then been a feat achieved only by Vladimir Horowitz, in 1979.
No one present at Kissin’s concerts, least of all the performer himself, would suspect that concert halls are scrambling to fill their seats at many other quality concerts. Least of all at the truly stirring season’s opening concert, with red carpets rolled out for the occasion all across 57th street.
                                                                                              Opening of Carnegie Hall’s 125th season. Photo: Ilona Oltuski




If Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1 with the New York Philharmonic and its departing director Alan Gilbert was meant to be associated with one of Kissin’s own, most triumphant historic performances of the same concerto in 1987, given with Herbert von Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic when the pianist was just 16, Kissin certainly stood the test of time. While one can’t say if Gilbert was as touched by Kissin’s brilliance as was Karajan, who, according to Karajan’s wife was moved to tears by the genial talent of his chosen young performer, their engagement certainly carried its own merit of excellence, making it also one of Gilbert’s rather gallant collaborations to remember.
On the day following his evening of Yiddish music and poetry, Carnegie’s Executive and Artistic Director Clive Gillinson moderated – at the associates’ level ticket price – a public tête-à-tête on stage, where Kissin appeared relaxed and personable. He humored the audience with anecdotes about Prokofiev and his first meeting with Karajan, as well as his strong-mindedness when it comes to conductors who don’t share his vision. He also recalled some of his earlier years, when his revered only mentor through all these years, Anna Kantor, moved in with the Kissins, following them on their path from Moscow to New York to London.

Turning 93 now, Kantor stays a vibrant member of Kissin’s family, and hers continue to be the ears he trusts the most; until recently she was an integral part of his concert touring entourage and it speaks for their deeply reverent relationship that the pianist continues to play new repertoire through for her.
Evgeny Kissin with Anna Kantor. Photo: Ilona Oltuski


A first was Kissin’s public opening up about becoming inspired and re-inventing himself: “As we live and develop we discover new things in ourselves, of which we were not aware earlier,” he says. “A few years ago, I would have never been able to imagine that I would be writing my own poetry in Yiddish and have it published…I have always hoped and continue to hope that I will always keep improving.”
Almost no trace remains of the admitted former “painfully shy” mannerisms of his younger years. No matter how long the line of beleaguering fans may be, he happily obliges with oddly composed courtesy and at times touching generosity.  

Evgeny Kissin swarmed by his fans at Carnegie Hall after Rachmaninoff concerto performance. Photo: Ilona Oltuski

Perhaps the least successful program of the series was Kissin’s much anticipated novel partnership with violinist Itzhak Perlman in a trio performance with Kissin’s longtime collaborator, cellist Misha Maisky. It was almost surprising that the performance lacked a persuasive harmonious flow of leadership and balance, given the great musicianship of all these artists individually. Perlman’s melodic lines especially seemed to get lost at times acoustically, flanked by Maisky’s and Kissin’s powerful virtuosity.
In contrast, Kissin’s Yiddish evening was in some ways the most significant program of the series. Kissin’s passion project of Yiddish poetry recitation and music by rarely performed Jewish composers illuminated the deeply personal context of his engagement with Jewish culture. The fascinating presentation touched audiences on many levels, highlighting Kissin’s capacity and courage to explore new artistic frontiers. This was the case with works by Ernest Bloch, Alexander Veprik, Alexander Klein, and Mikhail Milner, with which Kissin ventured into modernist and folklore-inspired tunes off the beaten path.
Carnegie Hall Green Room moment: the author with Mischa Maisky and Evgeny Kissin after their collaborative concert


With his nuanced and melodic declamation of poems in the Yiddish idiom of Yitzhak-Leybush Peretz, Kissin captured the lyrical elements and aura of the language with its particular humor and spirit, transporting the transfixed audience into the bygone era of the shtetl. Soulfully baring his heart in every syllable, the magnetic performer – stripped of all his virtuoso veneer – sufficed to fill the hall, momentarily halting time. As in Kissin’s own poem, the evening’s credo points to celebrating our intrinsic individualism, which, if painful to bear at times, brings fulfillment through truth to ourselves.





Ani maymin                                                                                Credo     Translation by Barrnett Zumoff
Shoyn Terekh hot gezogt zayn kleynem zun mit shrek:        After Terah* said fearfully to his young son:
"Far vos bist nit aza, vi ale?".                                                     “Why are you not like all the others?”
Un s'iz geven azoy in yedn kant un ek,                                      into which our brutal fate cast us.and it was so
vuhin di dolye undzere brutale                                                    in every nook and cranny                                              
flegt undz nit varfn. S'iz dokh undzer koved,                            It’s to our honor, after all,
vos tomid zaynen mir geven getray tsu zikh                            that we have always been faithful to ourselves,
un hobm ot di khokhme oysgekovet:                                         and have forged this wise saying:
"Ven ikh vel zayn vi yener, ver vet zayn vi ikh?".                     “If I am like the others, who will be like me?”
                                                                                                          *Abraham’s father 

This bent of Kissin’s talent was earlier introduced on a smaller scale at New York’s Yivo Institute and at his momentous debut at Charles and Robyn Krauthammer’s Pro Musica Hebraica series, at Washington’s Kennedy Center in 2014; but it was a first at Carnegie Hall, drawing New Yorkers into Kissin’s other personal passion. (See my article about Evgeny Kissin on a mission to celebrate his Jewish heritage.)

Evgeny Kissin at Pro Musica Hebraica. Photo: Ilona Oltuski

For the very first time in 2002, during Verbier’s prestigious festival in the Suisse Alps, the festival’s director Martin Engstroem encouraged Kissin to recite Russian and Yiddish poetry as an extracurricular presentation on stage. Kissin agreed, but only if other artists would participate as well. The ones who had confirmed, among them Zubin Mehta, had to pull out at the last minute leaving Kissin “to wet his feet,” as he recalled. What a happy coincidence it turned out to be, bringing his previously private predilection into the spotlight.
For Kissin, the Yiddish language represents an important cultural territory of the Jewish people. On a personal level it became a reminiscence of his childhood, and peaceful summer months spent at his Yiddish-speaking maternal grandparents’ datshka. During his childhood, Kissin was made aware of anti-Semitic sentiments; derogatory slurs were not unusual. Not yet aware of Israel's existence, Kissin envisioned himself uniting with his people, as a grown up, in Birobidzhan – the Russian territory with an official Jewish status, which became a center of Jewish culture at the time it was founded under Stalin, in 1934.
                                                                                                                                                       
                                                                                Evgeny Kissin with Martin Engstroem in Verbier. Photo: Ilona Oltuski               

Kissin’s interest in his native Russian poetry and literature were closely followed by his interest in Yiddish culture and its language, which he had initially taught himself. Even though he grew up completely assimilated into Soviet society, he felt a strong connection to his ethnic heritage and always had a special place in his heart for Israel. After being in the public eye for a long time, he deployed his voice not only for numerous humanitarian causes, but also to protest a growing anti-Israel sentiment he observed living in London and Paris. In December 2009, his open letter to the BBC in protest of its perceived biased reporting made headlines. In 2010 he explained to me why he had spoken out: “I just felt that it was no longer possible to remain silent and not protest….my motivation came from the dramatic increase of anti-Israel slander.” (See my article, “The Artist as Citizen.”) His fan-website features a broad selection of sources in support of Israel.
When we met at his first solo concert in Jerusalem the following year during his commanding Liszt tour, he was engulfed in the topic. (In 1988 he went on his very first trip to Israel with the Moscow Virtuosi Orchestra.)
Performing in Jerusalem meant the world to him and he matched his sentiment with a dramatic biblical stance: “Im Eshkachech Yerushalayim Tishkach Yimini (If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgotten).”
Despite not living in the Promised Land himself, he initiated action to fully demonstrate his allegiance: in December of 2013 Kissin took on Israeli citizenship. His evolving sense of Jewish identity certainly plays a decisive role in his creative discoveries within its history, language and music and beyond that in Israel’s modern-day crisis. During one summer at the Verbier festival, Anna Kantor, concerned about this (to her mind) superfluous extracurricular activity, turned to me, remarking: “Ah politics, who needs politics…he should sit and play the piano.” I am certain the sentiment is shared by many, who would prefer an artist being removed from anything that could view the man and citizen behind the artist. Alas, despite his performance schedule of about 40 concerts a year worldwide, Kissin’s creativity obviously requires many different stimulating outlets, certainly feeding his extraordinary imagination at the piano.
Just some days after his Yiddish recital, we met over tea and he brought the newest chapter of his novel. In his steadfast timbre, Kissin read it out loud in one sitting. He did not touch his tea. He was excited to share his modern-day drama depicting an opera-inspired Russian heroine’s suffering with deep sentiment, in a pictorial and captivating style. Here is an excerpt:
From the novel by Evgeny Kissin, translated by Barrnett Zumoff
Book 1: Outside It Was Snowing
The smoke from the cigarette was beginning to mix with the emanations from the Indian aromatic sticks. There was no ashtray in the house, so the cigarette ash fell on the floor immediately after each light tap of her finger. She kept slowly and deeply inhaling the smoke, filling her entire body with the mild poison; oh well – the deed is already done, so relax and calm down.
Three thoughts kept drilling into her mind: “Sasha, my darling”…”I’ll get the money as fast as I can!” …and “Now I‘ve really become a whore – I’ve lived to see the day!”
“Man proposes and God disposes,” her wise grandmother Chana used to say. Her grandmother’s words had sounded convincing to her even then, though she was still a child and of course couldn’t understand what they meant. Now, in the past few days, she somehow understood them with her whole being, from the tips of her fingers to the depths of her soul, perhaps as never before in her life. When she was still a young girl and had just begun to discover the world of pleasure, she used to fantasize about taking money for love. For instance, a nice man she liked would come to her and propose to spend time with her, and she would answer him playfully: “If you pay!” Now, however, she didn’t get to choose only nice clients…
Five months did go by after the Russian heroine of his novel appeared, and reverberations of sentiments stirred by Kissin’s Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 slowly filtered through the hall.
Nothing less had been expected from a moving farewell concert by Kissin, with the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra.
For this final concert of the series, Kissin reunited with his longtime friend, colleague and frequent collaborator James Levine, who, as the Met’s leading force for 45 years, has just announced his final bow as music director. 
                                                                                                                                                                                       
                                                                                                              Photo: NPR.org, Maestro James Levine
The eminent conductor, winner of 10 Grammy awards, entered in his wheelchair, elevated by a special mechanism onto a towering conductor’s podium.
Kissin – and Levine – fans had witnessed this somewhat involved process in the hall already in 2013 when the artists collaborated on Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto, when Levine, returning to the concert stage after injury and two years of absence, was greeted with a standing ovation.
Kissin has played the world over with an extraordinary number of first-rate conductors, but Maestro Levine, the pianist once told me, is among those he really loves the most. For several years, Kissin and Levine were both at home in New York. Together they recorded Beethoven’s Second and Fifth Concertos in 1997. As a special highlight their all-Schubert piano duo program, recorded live at Carnegie Hall in 2005, speaks volumes of their alliance in temperament and artistic perception. It is also among Levine’s most favorite recordings, he told Kissin (even though for acoustic reasons and perhaps also to facilitate unrestrained physical motions, the music intended for one piano four hands was performed on two separate grand pianos).
While Kissin’s beautiful singing lines where at times marred just slightly by the piano’s dry acoustics, the strong personal connection was palpable in their take on Rachmaninoff, on a beautiful night in May for Kissin’s last concert of the series.
Familiar with Kissin’s 1989 recording of the concerto with Valery Gergiev and the London Symphony Orchestra, I had never before heard this all-time favorite concerto played live by Kissin.
Rachmaninoff himself gave the premiere of the work composed in 1901, which established his fame and marked the end of a severe depression he had suffered.
While Gergiev’s recording is certainly notable, already the entrance, just so slightly off, speaks of a much less deeply rooted musical bond than that between Kissin and Levine. In the recording Gergiev paints – at times more daringly – with a bigger brush, but Levine is a master at bringing out all the hidden nuances. If his Spanish repertoire already was full of vitality and rejoicing in the intricacy of mischievous rhythmic skill, in Rachmaninoff the drama got taken further. But despite the constant shifts between tender palettes and multiple climaxes there was nothing mise-en-scene, only a profound myriad of fine-tuned dexterity.
If Carnegie Hall’s Perspective series set out to convey different angles of the performer’s aptitude with multiple genres and composers’ objectives, we witnessed it all. The blissful melancholy projected in this last Russian gem was matched only by his intimate poetry recitation, with a bared soulfulness that brought one closer into the world of this artist, and perhaps with one’s own humanity. With unrelenting inquisitiveness and willingness to challenge the status quo, Kissin does not rest on his laurels, which indicates there is much more to come; and how happy he looks, especially when conveying another scoop of news to me: Kissin is now also trying his hand at composing, and some of his installments, which include a chamber music work, have already acquired much interest among some distinguished musicians. Previously just something he dabbled with during his childhood, and put aside in favor of an exclusive focus on performance, composing has now taken solid hold, adding yet another facet to Kissin's opus of discovery. 
New York will feel the absence of this remarkable individual whose innermost workings can be found in his art. In the meantime, I am sure all his fans will join me in wishing him bon voyage as he spreads his artistic inspiration abroad.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Concerts and the City - Urban storytelling with Daniel Libeskind

There is a deeply affecting quality about star architect Daniel Libeskind's simple, elegant elucidations, which possesses an air of truth that never fails to inspire. Perhaps most essentially, they offer a glimpse into the deeply enthusiastic and positive worldview so inherent in all of his endeavors. "You have to bring hope," Libeskind tells Listen. "without a positive sense of the future, you can't build architecture, because you are laying foundations." 

All architectural photos courtesy Studio Libeskind. 

left: Master plan for Ground Zero in New York City. Photo right: one of the voids of the Jewish Museum Berlin. Underneath: Sketch H 3 Chamber Works.
   
This article was  published by "Listen -  life with  music and culture" April, 2016.

This sense of hope occurs in all of his major architectural work. In Berlin, for instance, stands the Jewish Museum  the award-winning design of which was accepted in 1989  and brought Libeskind world fame. its jarring curves, bold shapes, and unexpected voids gave form and shapes to the violent and complicated history of Germans and Jews further explored in the collection. 
But Libeskind's design also included cracks of light which penetrate that intimidating space, providing  literally – a glimmer of hope. the same idea occurs in his master plan for New York City's Ground Zero, where hope and commemoration manifest themselves as wedge of light.
In a recent BBC radio interview, Libeskind – once an aspiring accordion player – revealed  his diverse musical taste in a list of works that included selections from Mozart's Requiem; Beethoven's String Quartet in B-flat Major, Op.133; ancient Greek music; Giacinto Scelsi's Pfhat; and Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz. This colorful array is indicative of both Libeskind's own broad palette, and of the love for music that inspires and impacts his sense of design: "Even though I have given up performing music" – Libeskind played classical music, which  he transcribed for accordion  "I never gave up music at all. I am always listening to the sound of a space and to its vibrations."
Indeed, Libeskind sees much resonance between the fields of music and architecture. "How we listen to music, the physical, visceral experience...can never be experienced in the same way [by two people], and while perhaps nothing brings people together like music, its experience is linked to each individual human soul...the same goes for architecture." 
This belief has prompted him to undertake many cross-disciplinary projects, including a series of drawings published by the Architectural Association School of Architecture. The loose-leaf sketches, collected in a record box, were titled Chamber Works, and Libeskind calls them "musical scores of performances of a civic space."

As CNN Style's first guest editor, Libeskind also recently commissioned and curated a series of features which link music and architecture through the common thread of their emotional impact and communicative capacities. "The audience becomes a vital component of the performance. it is not passively sitting down and removed from the show," he says. in May 2016, Libeskind will further explore these issues in a twenty-four hour extravaganza of site- specific concerts called One Day in Life. (sketch for the event)

Set in Frankfurt at the invitation of the city's Alte Oper, One Day in Life opens up Germany's commercial and cultural hub with an odyssey through different locations and musical eras. each site and program identified by one of eighteen basic themes of human experience. One such performance, hosted in the
massive Commerzbank-Arena, will feature concert violinist Caroline Widmann and DJ Spooky as a contribution to the theme of "will." The program notes describe the event as "...a confrontation of two  musical worlds for the benefit of a shared retaliation. In a location where, at other times, sporting events mesmerize large numbers of people,music will exert its evocative power by presenting virtuosic violin
pieces or contemporary electronic sounds - music whose strong will makes it irresistible to the audience."

Photo: Commerzbank-Arena, Wolfgang Miguletz (One Day in Life, Alte Oper)

At the German National Library, Star pianist and Steinway Artist Pierre-Laurent Aimard will participate in a performance of Schubert's Sonata No.18 in G Major, D.894 - a contribution to the theme of "translation," letting the music speak for itself.
Many locations used for the concerts are spaces most people would not even have known existed, while others have never seen performances of the kind One Day in Life presents. Accordingly, musical offerings will change with the scenery, ranging from soloists and small ensembles to a full symphony orchestra.
In a recent press conference in Frankfurt, Libeskind said: "My project is to put music where it's never been played in that way. The idea is to open up the city, and how people listen to music." 

photo left: Imperial War Museum in Manchester, United Kingdom. 

photo right: Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto

Libeskind explained to Listen some of the essential factors at play in his vision: "Music is constantly in our lives; it reveals the rhythm of our lives, we are just not always...aware of it. One Day in Life brings a special unity to the dialogue between the audience, the place, and the music, and reveals new connections. Music becomes recognizable as the force of life it is  think of its already biblical power, bringing down the walls of Jericho  and of course as a source of bringing pleasure into one's life. People will suddenly realize that they can enjoy being in a hospital or at the bunker while listening to a performance of a work by Schoenberg, or by Nono. 
The music changes how we experience the place and the place changes how we listen to music."
Ilona Oltuski

One Day in Life will occur May 21-22 in Frankfurt am Main. 





Daniel Libeskind plans to attend the extraordinary event. 

Daniel Libeskind, photo: Wonge Bergmann, Alte Oper Frankfurt am Main.

Friday, March 25, 2016

Violinist Stefan Jackiw – “music connects you with humanity”

I am reconnecting with the slender, young looking 31 years old violinist, Stefan Jackiw, who impressed me deeply when I had heard him perform several years ago, at the Good Shepherd Presbyterian Church. Home of the Jupiter Symphony Chamber Players - just a block from Lincoln Center – less frequently performed repertoire is presented here in an accessible way, by musicians belonging to the former orchestral ensemble led by the late Jens Nygaard and upcoming talents of the New York classical music scene.
Already then, Jackiw came across as being an artist with an inimitably searching character and an utterly engaging musician with a maturity well beyond his years. He clearly dominated the stage in a literal sense, since there was not even a stage actually; Jupiter players just stand in front of their audience, which makes for a much simpler and more direct display of their skill. It also makes it more difficult for some performers to stand there in such proximity, rather intimately exposed, without the sanctification of the pedestal effect of a stage.
This was clearly not the case for Jackiw, who embraced the closeness with every one of his nimble movements and a soaring tone projection, pulling the audience into his music making with an almost uncanny optimism; not of the naively joyful kind, but rather a deep felt response of life affirming buoyancy with an emotional depth, only gained through some serious soul searching.
Since then, the highly accomplished violinist’s career has taken off to even new heights. When we meet at Indies, a café, often frequented by musicians thanks to its lighter fare and proximity to Lincoln Center and the Juilliard School, he had just made his debut at Carnegie Hall, performing Prokofiev’s Second Violin Concerto with Mikhail Pletnev, kick starting a tour with the Russian National Orchestra. He also completed a tour, performing Ives Violin Sonatas with the brilliant pianist Jeremy Denk, which included a well received performance at the 92Y. The New York Times called their collaboration an arresting account and a model of how performers can both inform and entertain an audience with a challenging program (Anthony Tommasini) photo Shiro Yuki NY Times
Jackiw had first collaborated with Denk in 2007, at the Seattle Chamber Music Festival, and they had “clicked” from the get go:”Besides being a greatly informed and learned pianist with immense insights into the historical context and how to make strikingly clear, how a piece is put together, for me his playing is so special because of its emotional generosity. When he plays, he is the opposite of academic; filled with spirit, life and joy, he makes you fall in love with music all over again,” says Jackiw. They continued their spirited affiliation, performing several times over the years and their relationship has deepened into a strong partnership, further evolving their similar musical values, personal temperaments and ideas on interpretation. When it came to Charles Ives, a project Denk had mentioned to Jackiw a while back, Jackiw started learning all four Sonatas at once, for their shared performance. While Denk had been closely involved with the composer’s work for quite some time, Jackiw had only been somewhat familiar with some of his chamber music already, while the Sonatas were rather new territory for him. That’s why he hopes to repeat their Ives tour in the near future:”I feel the first time around, after you learn new repertoire, you have to put it away for a while. The second time you perform it, there is a very different understanding, and that’s especially true with a composer you don’t perform all that often. It is different when you play, say Brahms, whom you play all your life. Even if it’s a new or lesser played piece, its informed by how you play Brahms’ other works…I already look forward to revisiting Ives.” While much admired by Jackiw, Denk, is also a prolific writer on his thoughts on music – he is currently writing a book, built on a selection of entries of his successful blog “Think Denk,” a consummate and often witty outlook from his perspective as a musician – Jackiw, who is an excellent communicator himself, says he is rather shy when it comes to writing about music; though he did write the program notes for his Carnegie Hall debut. “It is important for me, to write down my thoughts that go into building a certain program, and my thoughts about a performance. Writing forces me to articulate my thoughts about music, deepening my own understanding and informs my commitment to then crystallize my thoughts in my playing and vice versa, “he says.
Jackiw often attends others’ concerts and likes to think about the experience, but also about his own role, as a performer. Photo credit: Sophie Zhai
“I believe that we (as performers) are re-creating a composer’s work, like an actor re-creates Shakespeare… and in that sense we are servants to the composer’s score. But within that, one could argue if it is our job to guide the audience in a controlled way, pointing out the path through the piece; or rather go on the journey with the audience together, in real time. As a listener, I find it always more compelling, when the performer and the audience are “taking communion” together, when there is this togetherness of experiencing the music. While giving yourself up to the music may be risky, and the willingness to relinquish control may be dangerous, this is – for me – the place, where music takes flight. It sounds a little indulgent, but the great, late Hanoncourt expressed it so eloquent:”Beauty exists at the edge of catastrophe.” Pushing to that edge, being in the presence of all that is expressed in the score, the torment, the joy, the emotional extremes….being vulnerable to all that opens you up to an experience, bigger than oneself and that connects the performer with the audience. As a performer you cannot keep the audience at an arm length. It may be more comfortable, you would be less naked, but that’s not what it is about. An actor like Daniel Day Lewis, for example, is totally amerced into his characters. He becomes the character, he is portraying, every time. “
Jackiw is inspired by other performers, who radiate this total commitment and honesty in their playing; some of his all time idols includes violinist Christian Tetzlaff, whose concerts he always aims to attend. The other one is Gidon Kremer, with whom he performed chamber music in Korea, last year. “It would be a dream to play together with him again,” he says. “Already in the rehearsals, this is an artist who is so inspiring with utter commitment and always so different in each performance. “
“After all, why do we go to museums, read literature and want to get a perspective on history,” exclaims the former Harvard psychology major, if not to connect with beauty, but also with the emotions expressed by others. I find it deeply comforting to discover that others felt like I feel. “One of the major conventions in psychology is “normalization,” which means to show empathy to a patient, by showing that whatever mental ailment patients are plagued by, they are not alone; there are others that have suffered this before and are now. And music really shows that too, through the works of composers, who have lived and suffered and lived seeking joy and beauty. It is difficult to go on stage as a performer, it takes some self-reflection and thinking about what matters and why we are here, as a musician, dedicated to express all that, it forces you to look inward too, and that’s what keeps us grounded and in our most blissful moments, connected to humanity.
In the following months, Jackiw is looking forward to several orchestral performances in Europe, including his Berlin Konzerthaus debut, as well as reconnecting with his Korea based ensemble “Ditto.”
For more info about the artist: www. stefanjackiw.com

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Lev ‘Ljova’ Zhurbin at Brooklyn’s National Sawdust – shtetl buoyancy re-invented

ljova_photo_Pemi_Paull

Soulful violist and composer/arranger Lev ‘Ljova’ Zhurbin was featured in Ljova and the Kontraband’s Sunday afternoon concert at Brooklyn’s new home for the all-inclusive new music scene, National Sawdust. Going by ‘Ljova,’ the kindred version of his traditional Russian-Hebrew name, Lev, the artist and his Kontraband filled the room, which had been arranged cabaret-style, with tuneful energy. Folksy tango tunes with virtuosic viola passages next to Yiddish folk songs performed with great gusto by Ljova’s wife, singer Inna Barmash, pulled young and old alike into ethnic rhythmic soundscapes.
Says Barmash: “If you’ve been here in Brooklyn long enough, you have certainly heard Yiddish spoken by many of its Jewish, Eastern European inhabitants.” But while songs were sung in Yiddish, and some of the tango arrangements, especially those for accordion (virtuosic accordionist Julian Labro was sitting in for the band’s member Patrick Farrell), were reminiscent of Piazzolla, there was also something very different present in the compositions, giving the music a unique artistic characteristic of its own. As the program promised: “You will think you have heard it, but didn’t…at least not quite like this.
Quite far removed from the repertoire of his traditional classical music training, Ljova’s music stays alive through its own magic, fostered by intense rhythms of klezmer, tango, jazz, gypsy music and soaring melodic structures, many of which seem to originate in the eastern shtetl, rather than in Schubert.
The son of Russian Jewish émigrés famed Moscow composer Alexander Zhurbin, most renowned for his 1975 rock opera “Orpheus and Eurydice,” and poet Irena Ginzburg, Ljova always managed to stay closely connected to the nurturing roots of his heritage without being stuck in the generational gap.
Born into a Russian musician’s home, violin lessons with the renowned Galina Turchaninova, teacher to talents like Maxim Vengerov and Vadim Repin, were part of Ljova’s Moscow routine from age four on. He left this part of his life behind when he immigrated in 1990 at age 11 to New York, along with his parents. It may have been the influence of his uncle, Yuri Gandelsman, former principal violist of the Moscow Virtuosi and the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra that caused Ljova to choose to enroll at Juilliard, where he became a student of the eminent Samuel Rhodes, violist of the Juilliard String Quartet. Ljova might have continued to follow this road if it had not been for his curiosity and willingness to try on other musical hats. Making music within “the other” non-classical world of music, whether at jazz gigs at nightclubs, weddings, or folk festivals, taught Ljova to improvise and compose, and opened a different worldview for him to absorb, first reluctantly, then eagerly, eventually making it his own.
photo_Ilona_Oltuski_GetClassical
Kontraband_photo_Ilona_Oltuski_GetClassical
Ljova’s first solo recording, World on Four Strings, released in 2006 on his own Kapustnik label, features the viola dominantly, yet with atmospheric multi-tracked recorded viola parts, gracefully departs from the classical genre.
An array of musical arrangements for artists like Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road Ensemble, Brooklyn Rider, The Knights, the Kronos Quartet and artists as diverse as rapper Jay-Z and Alondra de la Parra, among others, added greatly to Ljova’s exposure and experience. Composing for his beloved viola or his Kontraband or an entire Orchestra, Ljova has developed a varied and consistently unique voice of deeply felt, personal perception of musical delight. He came to realize that there are only two kinds of music, good – and bad.
Ljova’s musical ideas are flowing from a space within his very “normal life.” His persona does not present extravagancy, or any romantic ideal of an artist that seeks the stardom of a celebrated idol; his Viola strapped on his back, Ljova travels mostly by bike from his Upper West Side neighborhood. On occasion, he will leave himself a message on his cell phone with a reminder of a new musical idea that just came to him in that moment. His warm, unpretentious personality comes across as genuine to a fault: whether on stage or a broadcasted talk show, of which he has done several, or as a family man, a good neighbor and friend, he manages to stay relevant, doing whatever it takes to live a life that includes music on a daily basis.
Ljova is in high demand as a film composer. Some of his recent credits include scores to “Finding Babel”, a documentary about the Russian-Ukrainian-Jewish writer Isaak Babel and “Datuna: Portrait of America”, about the Georgian artist David Datuna, which just won a prize at Raindance Film Festival. Ljova has also composed music for documentaries produced by the BBC, and contributed music to documentaries by NHK and HBO. He has also scored nearly three dozen short-subject films.
Ljova also collaborates extensively with choreographers, including two ballets with Aszure Barton & Artists, as well as commissions from Parsons Dance, Ballet Hispanico, New Dialect and others.
The connections that Ljova makes with people are lasting and meaningful; his relationship with Brooklyn Rider goes back to 2008, when he shared the bill with the group at Joe’s Pub. It was the highly successful string quartet’s first year in existence, with violinist Johnny Gandelsman, violist Nicholas Cords and the two Jacobsen brothers, Eric on cello and Colin on violin. It was Ljova’s second year performing with the Kontraband. The lines between Ljova’s collaboration and friendship with the Brooklyn-based quartet, inspired by the “Blue Rider,” were blurred from the beginning. At their first performance, Brooklyn Rider performed several of Ljova’s pieces, including “Plume,” “Crosstown” and “Budget Bulgar.” The quartet also went with Ljova’s arrangement for Silk Road Ensemble, “Brîu,” a tune form the repertoire of Taraf de Haïdouks, originally composed for the project. “Plume” and “Crosstown” also appeared on the group’s debut recording Passport.
Eric Jacobsen says: “I can’t help but be inspired by Ljova. His imagination is fascinating and endless. He is one of those people, that when I see an opportunity for collaboration, I immediately think of him. He is true to his nature and creative spirit, however incredibly able to adapt to all situations and relationships.” One of Ljova’s new works in the making is a commission by Eric Jacobsen, who is currently starting to serve as conductor for the Orlando Philharmonic and the Bridgeport Symphony.
It is unsurprising that the afternoon at Sawdust had the intimacy of a family affair. Ljova aims for personal connection, as he laments: “Everyone has moved on into different neighborhoods. Even when planning concerts, it has become difficult to find an era that works for everyone..." it was therefore an important gesture that children were admitted to Sunday's concert for free. Ljova's cousin, Johnny Gandelsman - violinist of Brooklyn Rider, which had just performed at Sawdust the previous week, was in attendance with his animated kids.
photo_Ilona_Oltuski_GetClassical
But beyond the literal family connections - Ljova is of course married to his "Kontraband"'s vocalist - the familiarity with which the performers demonstrated their instruments, percussionist Mathias Kűnzli most intricately, or talked about their music, held an informal objective, whcih created an intimate, family-friendly milieu.

The artists, belonging to a generation of New York musicians who are grown up with families of their own, look to swap the musician’s ideal of the hip nightlife performance venue into one that allows their friends and fans to bring their kids. “So many performances I give cannot be frequented by many of my colleagues and friends, since they don’t have babysitting available,” he says.
The practical answer for Ljova is to perform in spaces conducive to bringing people together, uniting young and old and making the community grow a little closer together. Remarkably, this is exactly what his performance proved to represent. If smaller performance venues typically fill with the artists’ following to begin with, why not make it possible to include all of them? This is a valid question to which Ljova answers with low-key performances with communal character. Already, Ljova’s shtick has gained traction with new audiences, and major concert venues like Lincoln Center seem to be following suit. While composer and Artistic Director of Sawdust, Paola Prestini, has, in her own words, aimed to create a forward-thinking laboratory to explore unknown artistic territory, she has in the process established a communal hub that satisfies a popular demand and community need.


Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Pianist Steven Lin – focus on essential music making



What does it take these days for a young pianist to survive in a talent market saturated with more and more prolific contenders? Given the unusually high-ranking technical, as well as musical eloquence young artists are achieving through training at top educational breeding hothouses, a good portion of talent and practice alone – as important as may be, will hardly suffice.


And yet, while it seems harder than ever to distinguish the rays of true talent shining through a thick crust of adopted musical proficiency, the search for these pure nuggets of the golden gift forges forward as critics and connoisseurs pore over multiplying piano competitions and YouTube’s starred self-nominees – a pool ever widened by infectious viral views.


Meeting with 26-year-old Steven Lin after his captivating recital at Carnegie’s Zankel Hall this November illuminated some of the quintessentially important traits necessary to cultivate a long-lasting and impactful career.


(Photo Credit Ilona Oltuski)


My interviews with prodigies and hard working pianists has informed my opinion that there is one emerging determining factor common among these diverse artistic personalities – it’s all about the ability to focus with every fiber of one's being, which seems deeply ingrained in performers' DNA, but this must be augmented by powerful self-motivation. This kind of focus comes with a choice made out of one’s own conviction, and superceding trained facilities built to master the task at hand.


“I was so appreciative that the commitment of both, the Concert Artist Guild Viktor Elmaleh Competition and the newly established “American Friends” of the Arthur Rubinstein International Music Society made my recital at Zankel Hall possible. Of course, the timing was right, but it also goes to showing, how invested both organizations are in their promised concert arrangements for their competition finalists,” says Lin.


(Photo Credit Nate Ryan)




Lin became a gold medalist at the 2012 New York-based Concert Artist Guild (CAG) competition, an increasingly important initial stepping stone towards building a career in New York's competitive classical music scene. He went on to win the silver medal at Israel’s Rubinstein competition in 2014, joining the ranks of finalists with the competition's coveted international calling card.


During these competitive proceedings, Lin worked especially close with CAG’s president Richard S. Weinert and Idith Zvi, longstanding artistic director of the Rubinstein competition’s society in Israel, who both attended his recent Zankel Hall recital. Lin seemed especially impressed that Idith Zvi was in attendance, travelling all the way from Israel; Zvi, Lin mentioned, “had such a big job in promoting the competition itself, but also devoted a lot of attention to help the finalists, and not just the first prize winners, with concerts.” After the 2014 Rubinstein competition, Zvi invited Lin to perform in Israel several times for audiences Lin felt were particularly warm and appreciative.


It was Lin himself who took matters into his own artistic hands though, when he approached both organizers with the suggestion to sync their coordinating efforts for this concert. “I was really lucky,” he comments: “their willingness to collaborate for me worked out so well; this also means a helpful step towards gaining personal management, which we (referring to his first round of management at CAG) are striving for at the moment.”


(Photo Credit Nate Ryan)




This strikes me as quite an entrepreneurial move, not uncommon within today’s young generation of aspiring performers, and perhaps a natural response to the highly competitive atmosphere in which they are working, which clearly establishes additional demands on young talent; artists are expected to show entrepreneurial initiative and self-investment tackling advancement and opportunity, yet must do so remaining decorously in tune with a traditional model of an artist’ s projected modesty.


This modesty, which Lin also personifies with his amicable demeanor, is still directed towards the music of the great composers which musicians endeavor to make their own. “Most of the great pianists of the 'golden age of the piano did leave their teachers rather early on to develop by themselves and explore the music on their own terms," Lin says. Rachmaninov himself, and also Joseph Hoffman, for example, received all their training until age 18, at which time they left their teachers to discover music independently. Of course, there were much fewer professional pianists at these artists' times, and so they were perhaps able to take more time with the music and with themselves. According to Lin, "today’s training is so intricate and extended, when really, perhaps the most important effort is to spend time alone with the music, and that is pushed out further and further…”


Also present at Zankel Hall was Lin’s teacher of many years at Juilliard and Curtis, Robert McDonald. They exchanged their impressions of the concert in a brief, intimate conversation as the pianist emerged from backstage after his performance, a little disheveled but gleaming with excitement.


The eminent professor with many highly gifted performers among his students observably bartered well-meaning comments with his former protégé, discussing details of the successful performance, and perhaps also the pianist’s little memory slip in his encore, one episode (Of Foreign Lands and Peoples) of Schumann’s Kinderszenen. I overheard McDonald comment on focus – surely something this pianist had brought to the stage en galore, except perhaps, when the emotional relief of having completed the mammoth program minutely marred the simple beauty of that encore.


“I have not played for him since last May,” says Lin, referring to McDonald, with whom he studied during four years at Juilliard and two additional years at Curtis, whom he also credits with a decisively important part of his musical journey. Now more than ever, though, Lin feels he must work on “finding his own voice, which is ultimately the most important thing in making music." He says, "You can only mature when analyzing your own playing. You have to be able to listen to yourself critically but also enthusiastically. You have to be able to inspire yourself first, otherwise you can’t inspire others.”






(Photo Credit Nate Ryan)



He affirms that each piece of music has different, subjective requirements. “Take for example the Ravel piece La Valse,” he suggests. The piece marked the finale of his grand program which spanned Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No.18 in E-flat major, Schumann’s Symphonic Etudes, Op.13 and Mendelssohn’s Rondo Capriccioso in E major, Op. 14, as well as a world premiere of David Hertzberg’s alha – work of a fellow CAG-supported artist. “La Valse, was originally created for orchestra, so playing the piano version, one has to re-create that soundscape. But that does not necessarily mean to only imitate the different instrument’s orchestral voices, rather one has to remake a certain pianistic coloration. Also rhythmically, the subtle shifts between the theme of the underlying typical Viennese valse, composed much earlier than Ravel’s interspersing melodic constructions, demand a really calibrated balance within all that freely expressed musical pandemonium. With Schumann’s Symphonic Etudes, then, the really simplistic theme gets more and more complex and creative. It’s not at all easy to find one’s approach to the whole structure when each of his variations is such an unusual image, like an unfinished thought, each with its own, distinctive character. It’s a real favorite of mine, an invitation to dig deep emotionally and so original,” he explains.






Before starting each of his programmed pieces on stage, Lin took quite a long moment to concentrate before delving into the keys. He explained these as moments of distance that he uses to gain the right perspective to approach each work's uniquely engaging score.


Meeting with Lin, I wonder: at what point in time during his intense studies, did he “get it?"


“I started the piano relatively late, at age seven, with a very passionate teacher in Taiwan for two years before I entered Juilliard’s Pre-College division...I was attending Public School in New York, taking only weekly piano lessons with Yoheved Kaplinsky. I was a devoted basketball fan with only little interest in music, at the time. All my practicing while still at school, especially in the first years, did not really mean that I fully 'got it.' It’s easy to get a bit lost in New York City. I had moved from Taiwan when I was very young and had to adjust to a different kind of life.” He still managed to win two Juilliard Pre-College piano competitions, and made his debut with the New York Philharmonic, age 13. (Photo Credit Nate Ryan)


“As I matured, I also was able to take in more from my teacher, Robert McDonald. He taught me how to really listen, and hear myself. This probably was a turning point that made me truly interested in real piano playing."


The talented young piano player had many sources of inspiration for his musicality, especially the many teachers and performers he met during his studies who furthered his understanding of performance, including his teacher Matti Raekallio, and pianists Sergey Babjan and Murray Perahia. Lin also credits his friend and colleague, Andrew Tysson, with whom he studied at Julliard. Tysson familiarized Lin with old recordings of the golden age pianists, which Lin found impact-fully inspiring.


(Photo Credit Nate Ryan)












The moment Lin, "really got it," however, came much later. "Prior to partaking at the Rubinstein competition," Lin says, "I entered, and was accepted to enroll with the 2013 'almighty' Van Cliburn competition. Until then, this had been my biggest goal ever. I was very ambitious, and the fact that I did not made it into the finals, which – up to this point had been all I was looking for – was devastating,” he remembers.While still receiving the special jury award (John Giordano Jury Chairman Discretionary Award)), two months after “failing,” the disappointed pianist did not practice, in fact did not touch the piano, he tells me.


“But this devastating experience also gave me a lot to think about. For the first time I had a lot of time on my hands. I used to practice 6-8 hours a day, not thinking much about anything except succeeding. When people started telling me about the Rubinstein competition, I realized that my attitude had to change in order to continue to take part in competitions, in fact to continue doing the thing I most definitely wanted to continue doing: playing piano.


"I had to realize that my attitude was not reflecting what it was really about: the long journey in music, which does not end after the competition – even if it’s won. One is in it for the long haul, and with this renewed approach – and some encouragement from my mom - I entered into the Rubinstein competition. I was really not expecting anything; I was just there to make music. Somehow in the process, I understood how much there really is to the art of the piano, and that the most important thing was to keep on learning and growing. But it had to come all together, and to me that was after the Van Cliburn experience. I was never more passionate about the process of giving yourself to the music than I am now. For me, it finally happened when I did not feel I have to prove something to someone, as one tries to please the parents, the teacher, or someone all the time in school.”


Today, Lin feels lucky to have experienced some degree of defeat, to help him understand that it takes more than chops. “I realize more and more what a great gift music is, and how lucky I am to appreciate its full potential. It’s almost a bit dangerous, when success and a huge career come too fast,” he adds, “at least I need time and a bit of space to think and process.”




March 6th Lin will return to Carnegie Hall’s Stern Auditorium performing Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1, op.23 with the New York Youth Symphony .