Music

Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Stitcher | Amazon MusicThe appointment of the storied hip-hop and pop producer Pharrell Williams to the creative director of men’s wear at Louis Vuitton marks a new phase of the union of hip-hop style and luxury clothing, two worlds that have been hurtling toward each other for more than two decades, but have lately become close kin.Williams steps into a role that had been fundamentally remade by Virgil Abloh, a protégé of Kanye West, who made Louis Vuitton a must-see and, for many, a must-wear during the years he was in charge (until his death in 2020). Williams comes to the role with a long history of pushing the boundaries of hip-hop style, a series of big brand collaborations and the mystique of global celebrity.On this week’s Popcast, a conversation about how hip-hop style has become a key part of men’s wear, how Williams has been central to connecting the dots between streetwear and luxury, and the potential directions Louis Vuitton might take under his direction.Guest:Aria Hughes, editorial creative director of ComplexConnect With Popcast. Become a part of the Popcast community: Join the show’s Facebook group and Discord channel. We want to hear from you! Tune in, and tell us what you think at [email protected]. Follow our host, Jon Caramanica, on Twitter: @joncaramanica. More

Pink Floyd’s enduring blockbuster merged grandeur and malaise. Very much a product of its era, it became one of the best-selling albums of all time.Glum, ponderous songs about madness, mortality and greed, punctuated with tense instrumentals. Was that a blueprint for a blockbuster? It hardly sounds like the makings of one of the best-selling albums of all time.But there’s no denying the popularity and tenacity of “The Dark Side of the Moon,” the indelible album that Pink Floyd released 50 years ago, on March 1, 1973. Looming like an inscrutable monolith, “Dark Side” spent nearly all of the next 14 years — through punk, disco, early hip-hop and the pop heyday of MTV — lodged in Billboard’s Top 200 album chart. It arrived during the analog, material days of record stores and vinyl LPs, when an album purchase was a commitment. And no matter how familiar “Dark Side” went on to become as an FM radio staple, people still wanted their own copy, or perhaps a new copy to replace a scratched-up one. In the digital era, “The Dark Side of the Moon” album returned to the charts on CD, selling and then streaming more millions.The success of “Dark Side” stoked the ambitions of Pink Floyd and its leader, Roger Waters, who has toured arenas and stadiums ever since; Waters, 79, is playing his “first ever farewell” dates this year. He conceived the “The Wall,” a narrative rock opera released in 1979, that would foreground his anti-authority reflexes, from schoolmasters to heads of state; he has performed it against the backdrop of the Berlin Wall. Decades later, Waters would go on to spout cranky, conspiracy-theory-minded, pro-Russia political statements that many former fans abhorred. When “Dark Side” appeared, all that was far in the future.There will, of course, be another deluxe edition for the latest “Dark Side” anniversary. Arriving March 24, the new boxed set has high-resolution and surround-sound remixes and other extras, though it’s largely redundant after the exhaustive “Immersion Edition” reissue in 2011. Both “Immersion” and the new set include a worthy 1974 concert performance of “Dark Side,” with brawny live sound and extended onstage jams.Waters has also announced his own full-length remake of “Dark Side,” that will have his own lead vocals — not the husky, doleful voice of Pink Floyd’s guitarist, David Gilmour — with Waters’s spoken words over the album’s instrumentals, along with “no rock ’n’ roll guitar solos.”Uh-oh.In 1973, “Dark Side” was an album that worked equally well to show off a new stereo — or, for a few early adopters, a quadraphonic system — or to be contemplated in private communion with headphones and a joint. The ticking clocks, alarms and chimes that open “Time” are startlingly realistic even when they’re no longer a surprise, and the perpetual-motion synthesizers and desperate footfalls of “On the Run” are eternally dizzying.Stately tempos, cavernous tones and solemn framing announce the high seriousness of “Dark Side,” which begins and ends with the sound of a heartbeat. The album juxtaposes overarching sonics and grand pronouncements with human-scale experience. Its tracks are punctuated with voices from Pink Floyd’s road crew and friends, dispensing loop-ready tidbits like “I’ve always been mad” in working-class accents.Like other overwhelming best sellers of the 1970s and 1980s — Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” the Eagles’ “Hotel California,” Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours” — “Dark Side” deals with disillusionment, fear and resentment despite the polish of its production. It’s troubled and obsessive at heart, not tidy. Countless bands and producers would learn from Pink Floyd how to fuse grandeur and malaise, how a few well-placed sounds can say far more than a showy display of virtuosity.“Dark Side” was very much a product of its era. The early 1970s were prog-rock’s heyday, particularly in Britain, where bands like Genesis, King Crimson and Yes were constructing suite-length songs and unveiling elaborate conceits. But the early 1970s were also a time when the utopian promises of the hippie era were fading, pushed back by entrenched interests and corporate co-optation. “Dark Side” captures naïve hopes falling away.It was Pink Floyd’s eighth album, the continuation of a cult career that had been synonymous with psychedelia and progressive rock: with extended structures and open-ended jams, with verbal conundrums and with an oh-wow appreciation of reverberant textures and spatial effects.Pink Floyd’s founding songwriter, Syd Barrett, left the band in 1968 with mental health problems, taking its sense of whimsy with him. Waters emerged as its new, more saturnine leader. But it took a string of uneven albums, full of amorphous studio jams, before the relative concision and clarity of “Dark Side” came into focus. While the album unfolds as a 42-minute prog-rock suite — despite the necessity, in 1973, of flipping over an LP — it also features clearly delineated verse-chorus-verse songs that radio stations could play. Waters deliberately made his lyrics blunter and more down-to-earth than he had before: “Money, it’s a gas/Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.”Waters tackled big topics: “Time,” “Money,” war, the inevitability of death, the triviality of daily life, the importance of seizing the moment. His perspective is dour. In “Breathe (in the Air),” he describes life as a “race towards an early grave”; in “Time, he observes that every sunrise brings you “One day closer to death.” But the reason “Dark Side” became a blockbuster is that Pink Floyd’s music — the full band, with Richard Wright’s self-effacing but fundamental keyboards, Waters on bass, Nick Mason’s steadfast drumming and Gilmour’s probing, slashing, keening guitar — defies all that miserabilism.The album builds dramatically and inexorably toward the songs that close each side of the LP. “The Great Gig in the Sky,” which ends Side 1, is a progression of tolling, processional keyboard chords from Wright, topped by spoken words denying fear of death — “You’ve got to go sometime” — followed by Clare Torry’s leaping, soaring, riveting vocal improvisation. She’s a pure life force, with pain and freedom and determination in her voice, refusing to accept oblivion. (Torry only received composer credit for her top line in 2005, along with an undisclosed settlement, after suing the band.)The album’s conclusion — “Brain Damage” seguing into “Eclipse,” both written by Waters — reads as bleak but feels like transcendence. In “Brain Damage,” the singer feels himself succumbing to mental illness. “The lunatic is in my head,” he warns, answered by a snippet of maniacal laughter; in the chorus, he sings, “If your head explodes with dark forebodings too/I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.”Then, in “Eclipse,” he makes his way toward a revelatory oneness — “All that is now and all that is gone/And all that’s to come and everything under the sun is in tune” — only to see it swallowed by darkness as “the sun is eclipsed by the moon.” But in both songs, the music swells behind him, with churchy organ and robust major chords, pealing guitar and gospelly choir harmonies. As the album ends, tidings of catastrophe sound like triumph; it’s a fist-pumping arena-rock finale.In recent interviews, Waters has described the message of the album more positively. “What is really important is the connection between us as human beings, the whole human community,” he told Berliner Zeitung in February. That’s revisionist; “Dark Side” luxuriates in alienation, futility and desperation. Its persistence reveals just how many listeners feel the same. More

We choose highlights from events featuring Mitsuko Uchida and Franz Welser-Möst as Perspectives artists, and the composer Tania León in residence.The threats facing democracy will be a central focus of Carnegie Hall’s coming season, the presenter announced on Tuesday, with a festival devoted to the flourishing cultural scene in Germany between the two world wars.From January to May, Carnegie will host “Fall of the Weimar Republic: Dancing on the Precipice,” an exploration of creative expression during the fragile democracy in Germany from 1919 to 1933. The festival will feature ensembles such as the Vienna Philharmonic and the Orchestra of St. Luke’s performing works by composers of the time, including Paul Hindemith and Kurt Weill.“We’re seeing the challenges to democracy more and more clearly, and it’s all the more reason we have to treasure it,” Clive Gillinson, Carnegie’s executive and artistic director, said in an interview. “We want people to ask questions and contemplate why democracy matters, and what the threats are in our day.”The 2023-24 season, which begins in October, will feature some 170 performances, beginning with two concerts by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, under the baton of its outgoing music director, Riccardo Muti. The pianist Mitsuko Uchida and the conductor Franz Welser-Möst, the music director of the Cleveland Orchestra, will each organize a series of Perspectives concerts.The composer Tania León, who won the Pulitzer Prize for music in 2021, will lead a season-long residency; in January, the Boston Symphony Orchestra will offer the New York premiere of a new piece by her.More on N.Y.C. Theater, Music and Dance This SpringMusical Revivals: Why do the worst characters in musicals get the best tunes? In upcoming revivals, world leaders both real and mythical get an image makeover they may not deserve, our critic writes.Rising Stars: These actors turned playwrights all excavate memories and meaning from their lives in creating these four shows, which arrive in New York in the coming months.Gustavo Dudamel: The New York Philharmonic’s new music director, will conduct Mahler’s Ninth Symphony in May. It will be one of the hottest tickets in town.Feeling the Buzz: “Bob Fosse’s Dancin’” is back on Broadway. Its stars? An eclectic cast of dancers who are anything but machines.Here are a dozen highlights of the coming season, chosen by critics for The New York Times. JAVIER C. HERNÁNDEZEnglish Baroque Soloists and Monteverdi Choir, Oct. 25You can safely bet on a few things whenever the conductor John Eliot Gardiner comes to town: agile, historically informed performance; obsessively precise articulation; and virtually ideal readings of beloved repertoire. In early 2020, he led his Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique in just about as good a Beethoven symphony cycle as you could imagine. And now he brings the English Baroque Soloists and the Monteverdi Choir to Carnegie for Bach’s Mass in B minor and, on Oct. 26, Handel’s “L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato.” JOSHUA BARONEThe mezzo-soprano Lea Desandre will appear at Weill Recital Hall with the lutenist Thomas Dunford.Joel Saget/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesLea Desandre and Thomas Dunford, Nov. 2These two artists — Desandre, a clarinet-mellow mezzo-soprano who can burst with bright agility, and Dunford, an eloquent lutenist — are among the brightest lights of a young generation of early-music specialists. They join in Weill Recital Hall, ideally intimate for this repertory, for “Lettera Amorosa,” a program of love-focused Baroque works by Monteverdi, Frescobaldi and Handel, alongside names like Tarquinio Merula (his songs exquisite) and Giovanni Girolamo Kapsperger (a specialist in music for lute). ZACHARY WOOLFEAmerican Composers Orchestra, Nov. 9This essential organization has brought music by George Lewis to Carnegie’s various spaces before — the most notable instance being his Virtual Concerto (for a “computer-driven” piano soloist) back in 2004. The orchestra will continue its productive relationship with the composer to perform one of his latest orchestral works. No title for the piece is available yet; the same goes for a few other new works on the bill (including those from the likes of Guillermo Klein and Augusta Read Thomas). We do have one title: “Out of whose womb came the ice,” by the up-and-coming composer Nina C. Young, whose premiere was co-commissioned by Carnegie. SETH COLTER WALLSStaatskapelle Berlin, Nov. 30When the Staatskapelle Berlin and its longtime music director, Daniel Barenboim, last appeared at Carnegie, in 2017, it was an epic nine-performance stand that paired Mozart piano concertos and Bruckner symphonies. A lot has happened since then; most recently, in January, Barenboim stepped down from the orchestra’s podium because of health problems. So their return will be poignant: just two nights, and the four symphonies of Brahms, a composer Barenboim performed as a pianist in this space in 1962. ZACHARY WOOLFEEnglish Concert, Dec. 10The British soprano Lucy Crowe’s expertise and imagination in Baroque music gives her the freedom to turn da capo arias into feats of feeling. That exhilarating sense of spontaneity uplifted the English Concert’s performance of Handel’s “Serse” at Carnegie last year, and it will be exciting to hear Crowe apply her gifts to more dramatic material when she takes the title role in “Rodelinda.” OUSSAMA ZAHRThe pianist Daniil Trifonov will appear on Carnegie’s main stage to perform Beethoven’s mighty “Hammerklavier” Sonata.Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesDaniil Trifonov, Dec. 12Arguably the mightiest of the under-40 generation of superstar pianists meets the mightiest of repertoire in this recital, as Daniil Trifonov takes on Beethoven’s “Hammerklavier” Sonata. It’s a banner year for youngish soloists in ambitious repertoire, in fact: Vikingur Olafsson plays the “Goldberg” Variations (Feb. 7); Beatrice Rana does the Liszt Sonata (Feb. 28); and Seong-Jin Cho journeys through the second book of the same composer’s “Années de Pèlerinage” (May 17). DAVID ALLENMet Orchestra, Feb. 1Yannick Nézet-Séguin has decided not to share next season. Rather than engage a guest conductor, he helms all three of the Met Orchestra’s concerts himself, embracing opportunities to bask in the tonal floodgates of Lise Davidsen’s soprano in Wagner’s “Wesendonck Lieder” and, later, the heavenliness of Lisette Oropesa’s Mozart arias (June 11), and the intense standoff of Bartók’s “Bluebeard’s Castle” with Elina Garanca and Christian Van Horn (June 14). OUSSAMA ZAHRYunchan Lim, Feb. 21This precociously mature pianist, still in his teens, played Liszt’s deliriously difficult “Transcendental Études” on the way to becoming the youngest-ever winner of the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition last year. He’ll reprise the Liszt as part of his recital introduction on Carnegie’s main stage. By this point, another pianist, the spectacularly creative Igor Levit, needs no introduction at this point to this hall’s audience; on Jan. 20, he’ll play two symphony transcriptions (Liszt’s of Beethoven’s Third and Ronald Stevenson’s of Mahler’s 10th) alongside Hindemith’s Suite “1922,” raucous and very Roaring Twenties. ZACHARY WOOLFEVienna Philharmonic, March 1Most of the five concerts in Welser-Möst’s Perspectives series — Jan. 20 and 21 with the Cleveland Orchestra, March 1-3 with Vienna — are emblematic of his thoughtful, idiosyncratic, ultimately endearing approach to programming, but the March 1 performance looks especially constructive, full of connections and contrasts to draw: Hindemith’s Konzertmusik for Wind Orchestra, Strauss’s Symphonic Fantasy from “Die Frau Ohne Schatten,” Schoenberg’s Variations for Orchestra and, as if to bid farewell to a whole world of music, Ravel’s “La Valse.” DAVID ALLENJason Moran will return to Carnegie with a tribute to the pioneering jazz musician James Reese Europe.Gioncarlo Valentine for The New York TimesJason Moran, March 9In addition to being an elite improvising pianist, Jason Moran is a keen programmer; his Carnegie survey of Black American music from the Great Migration was a well-attended success. You can all but bank on the same when Moran brings his latest concert concept to Zankel Hall. This time, the focus will be on the music of the early 20th-century American original James Reese Europe. You might expect some of the same expert arrangements heard on Moran’s latest album, “From the Dancehall to the Battlefield.” But prepare also for some surprises; this restless innovator rarely does anything the same way twice. SETH COLTER WALLSEnsemble Modern, April 12Much of the festival “Fall of the Weimar Republic: Dancing on the Precipice” is more confusing than informative. This period in history produced so much excellent and overlooked music; why are we seeing Beethoven, Wagner and Mahler (among other head-scratchers)? At least there are engagements like that of Ensemble Modern, which will perform works including a lithe but still barbed smaller arrangement of Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht’s “The Seven Deadly Sins,” led by HK Gruber, one of our greatest living Weill interpreters. The group returns April 13 as part of León’s residency, playing her “Indígena” and “Rítmicas” alongside pieces by Conlon Nancarrow and others. JOSHUA BARONEDanish String Quartet, April 18A highlight of Carnegie’s spring months in recent seasons has been the Danish String Quartet’s Doppelgänger project, which juxtaposes Schubert quartets with premieres. Coming this April: a new work by Anna Thorvaldsdottir. And, for the fourth installment next year, the group is adding the cellist Johannes Rostamo to perform Schubert’s endlessly moving, even sublime String Quintet in C, paired with a commission from Thomas Adès. JOSHUA BARONE More

Michael Cleveland was born blind and mostly deaf. That was only the beginning of his journey to become one of modern bluegrass’s most compelling musicians.Michael Cleveland had been 13 for five days the first time he picked with the bluegrass demigod Doc Watson — in a backstage bathroom, no less, at an awards show in Kentucky.It was September 1993. Peter Wernick, the first president of the International Bluegrass Music Association (IBMA), had assembled a band of young hotshots to provide a pointed rebuttal to a Washington Post feature that argued kids didn’t care about antiquated mountain music. The teenage quintet electrified its audience, sprinting through a Bill Monroe standard with verve that suggested these sounds were vital to fresh generations.After the triumphant ceremony, John Cleveland ushered his son — born blind, with one eye; almost deaf in his left ear and partly deaf in his right — to the bathroom. They found Watson, Wernick and a cadre of other genre giants laughing and jamming there, as though the lavatory were a back porch, and the teenage Michael joined for an hour.“I had no shame, no fear, nothing,” Cleveland, 42, remembered with a hoot by phone from the Indiana home he shares with his father. “I thought, ‘This may be the only opportunity I ever have to hear this person play, to be near them.’ That was pretty much all I wanted to do — raw, high-energy bluegrass.”The nascent teenager didn’t consider how Watson, who had lost his eyesight seven decades earlier at the age of 1, was the counterargument he needed: Teachers had warned Cleveland for years that career prospects for a blind bluegrass fiddler were grim, but he played on.In the three decades since, Cleveland has become a bluegrass star himself, winning 29 IBMA awards and becoming the organization’s most decorated fiddler. He is one of the world’s most in-demand and distinctive players, with collaborators that include Béla Fleck, Billy Strings and Vince Gill. “He plays with such ferocity,” Gill said by phone. “But the amount of emotion he pulls out of that instrument is way more appealing than the amount of notes.”Cleveland has only just begun to funnel his full story into records, documenting the hardships and joys of a difficult life devoted to bluegrass. Alternately woebegone and hopeful, his star-studded “Lovin’ of the Game,” out Friday, is an ecstatic document of what the fiddle has meant to his story — and what he hopes to mean to its history.“For a long time, Michael didn’t want to talk about being blind. He never wanted to be the little blind boy that played fiddle, for people to like his music because he was handicapped,” his father said. “He’s past that, and I’m glad — he might open up this music for somebody, to inspire them.”Cleveland was a boyhood bluegrass zealot, not a prodigy. When he was six weeks old, his parents began toting him to bimonthly Saturday concerts his grandparents hosted at an American Legion in Henryville, Ind. In his stroller, friends remembered, he would bounce to the music in perfect time. As a toddler, he became so obsessed with the staple “Rocky Top” that his parents drove him to Tennessee to meet the couple who had written it; even now, he keeps the cassette they gave him, an hourlong compendium of assorted versions.Still, Cleveland couldn’t play. A nearby fiddler struggled to show his first blind student how to hold the bow or the instrument. Teachers at the Kentucky School for the Blind fared better with a contraption that kept the bow at the proper position, but they were more interested in the Suzuki method and classical music than Flatt & Scruggs. “On the first day, they asked me what I knew about violin,” Cleveland said, catching his breath from laughter before offering his reply. “‘Well, I don’t know much about the violin,’ I said, ‘but I know a lot about the fiddle.’”Those first few years remained a struggle. One night, though, Cleveland dreamed about playing “Soldier’s Joy,” a mirthful fiddle number about payday he’d heard countless times. When he reached for his instrument the next morning, the tune was there.Though he balked his first fiddle contest, he kept trying, even joining Monroe, the bluegrass fountainhead, onstage at age 9. Soon after he delighted that awards-show crowd in Kentucky, he made his Grand Ole Opry debut with Alison Krauss. But it wasn’t Cleveland’s back story that people found compelling, like some cloying “American Idol” package.“You can feel his timing and pulse so well, like the drive of a banjo player,” the multi-instrumentalist Sam Bush said in an interview, listing Cleveland as one of perhaps three bluegrass fiddlers ever to have that quality. (The others? Benny Martin and Paul Warren.) “Then he adds finesse, and he will surprise you.”As a child, Cleveland was obsessed with fiddle music.Andrew Cenci for The New York TimesAs Cleveland’s fiddle prowess ballooned, the rest of his life deflated. Though the young musician felt welcome and encouraged in bluegrass, he understood he was different. By 12, he’d endured 30 separate surgeries to correct a cleft palate and lip, to insert a prosthetic eye and to reroute a blood vessel in his brain. He suffered serial bouts of spinal meningitis, and his eardrums were permanently perforated. His parents were then in the middle of an acrimonious divorce that would alienate him from his mother for decades.“Bill Monroe lost his mother at 10, his father at 16. There are similarities there with Michael you can feel,” said Ronnie McCoury, who began playing with his own father, the bluegrass pizazz magnate Del, at 14. “Michael’s life has been hard. Those feelings come out on his fiddle.”Cleveland forwent college, hitting the road soon after his high school graduation in 1999, and emerged as an exciting sideman, passionate about bluegrass’s history and quick-witted, too — “a good hang,” as Gill put it. He made several solo records and assembled a band, Flamekeeper. The group kindled unapologetic traditionalism, its intensity making it a fast favorite within staunch bluegrass circles.But six years ago, while enjoying one of Sam Bush’s freewheeling shows, Cleveland considered how bluegrass crowds were aging and shrinking, and how he might do well to adapt, like Bush or Fleck. His subsequent album, “Tall Fiddler” from 2019, flirted with spirited jazz and hardscrabble balladry. With Bush singing about running from the law, he even dipped into rockabilly.“Lovin’ of the Game” reinforces that openness. There’s a playful romp about high-stakes love alongside Billy Strings, and a country lamentation for small-town settling with Charlie Starr, of the Southern rock band Blackberry Smoke. The most vulnerable moment in Cleveland’s catalog comes with “Temperance Reel,” a centuries-old tune updated with lyrics about a musician struggling with alcoholism, as Cleveland did for many years. His strings sing with unbridled joy, as if animated by possibility.“There’s no mistaking I’m a bluegrass player. That’s the biggest part of what I do,” Cleveland said. “But these are ways to push the envelope that, 10 years ago, I wouldn’t have been into.”After 40 years of bluegrass fixation, Cleveland has become a de facto archivist. Not long before his parents split, an area aficionado handed him a box of 20 mixtapes of great fiddle performances — each dutifully labeled in Braille, with introductory listening instructions. They form the core of his vast basement tape trove. Cleveland has a recording of that bathroom jam with Watson, too, though he will never listen. He was, as he likes to say, “wearing it out,” playing every lick he knew as hard as he could to prove his worth. The youngest inductee into the National Fiddler Hall of Fame, he’s done that.He’s now focused on what’s next. He tracks fiddle parts for most anyone who asks through the online service AirGigs; John will often hear him alone in the basement, playing through dinner for 10 hours at a time, dabbling in pop and jazz. And, at Fleck’s request, he’s even learning some Bach for their first duo record.“Bach’s Violin Sonata No. 3 in C major,” he sighed, chuckling at the irony of how being the best bluegrass fiddler brought him back to the classical violin he’d quit. “I know just enough to be dangerous. But yeah, I thought, I can do that.” More

Laura Les and Dylan Brady’s debut spurred a subgenre called hyperpop and earned them a major-label deal. Swerving again, they’re returning with a different sound on “10,000 gecs.”LOS ANGELES — Laura Les and Dylan Brady, the experimental pop duo known as 100 gecs, wanted to set off fireworks indoors.And if this were a few years ago, back when the pair were quickly becoming the internet underground’s favorite musical pranksters, they probably would have just done it, pooling cash to hoard semi-legal explosives and gleefully wrecking the basement of whichever friend of theirs cared the least. In its anarchic “Jackass” ethos, few things could be so gecs-y.But at the end of last year, with an upcoming major-label album to market — and all the corporate guardrails that entails — 100 gecs were being forced to blow stuff up a bit more by the book. Fortunately for Les, 28, and Brady, 29, the other thing that comes with a fat recording contract — besides a boatload of commercial expectations, various handlers and more rules — is resources.The fireworks, after all, were not just for mayhem but a music video — the one expected to help propel the band’s new single, “Hollywood Baby,” into a mainstream crossover success.So one evening last December, in the parking lot of a Van Nuys soundstage, a small crew and an old-school pyrotechnics expert made 100 gecs’ absurd vision into an insurable reality, erecting a perfectly dumpy two-room house with no roof, which at least made it look like the fireworks were being ignited inside.When a tiny fireball hit Les, clad in a thrifted Limp Bizkit T-shirt, directly in the eye, the crucial thing was that it had been captured on camera.“There’s our short-form content,” Brady cracked, his chronic deadpan delivery only ever disrupted by boyish enthusiasm.That night’s elaborately D.I.Y. setup — like the souped-up pop-punk of “Hollywood Baby” — was 100 gecs with a budget and plenty of good will to burn.Since the group’s debut, “1000 gecs,” blew minds, made memes and topped critics’ year-end lists in 2019 with its playfully futuristic genre-mashing, Les and Brady have been on the steepest of career trajectories, their sold-out shows growing exponentially as Atlantic Records positioned itself behind whatever the duo wanted to do next.“It was definitely a ‘stop you dead in your tracks, you have to pay attention’ moment,” Craig Kallman, the industry veteran who signed the band to Atlantic, said of 100 gecs’ viral rise.Saddled almost immediately with the weight of its own Spotify-branded subgenre (and accompanying playlist) called hyperpop — for its synthetic, sugary mix of Top 40 bombast, emo sincerity-in-snottiness and rap swagger — 100 gecs were stamped as disruptive innovators, the instant cult favorites who weren’t expected to remain anyone’s secret for very long.Bridging the blown-out bass of the SoundCloud era and the looming everything-at-once cacophony of TikTok, 100 gecs had the kind of auspicious, stars-aligning arrival that led those in the group’s expanding universe to invoke the paradigm-shifting breakthroughs of Nine Inch Nails, for whom 100 gecs opened on tour last year, and Nirvana.Kallman, anticipating what is supposed to happen now, called back to “that transition from ‘Bleach’ to ‘Nevermind,’” anointing “Hollywood Baby,” with its arena-ready chorus, a “real linchpin song to kick the door open.”“There’s definitely growing pains, but neither of us are trying to make every dollar we can,” Les said. “Making music is such a fun thing. If it wasn’t fun, we’d just stop doing it.”Ariel Fisher for The New York TimesYet in a rare balancing act, rapturous hype for 100 gecs is still just as likely to come from below as from the ambitious benefactors above.Jesse Taconelli, 25, a manager for acts like quinn and Jane Remover who have been grouped into the broader hyperpop sphere, said: “The influence that gecs has is incredible and supernaturally powerful in this scene,” which encompasses a loose, mutating network of SoundCloud pages, Discord chats, message boards and other unwieldy corners of social media.“They’re the Nirvana of that, the Stones of that,” he said. “But in the internet age, with an internet-y sound, and when you get credited with creating a wave like that, it becomes difficult to follow up.”After various delays and some stopgap releases, 100 gecs took about four years. But where the band landed for its sophomore LP, “10,000 gecs,” out March 17, is amusing in a way only Les and Brady could muster: They made an alt-rock album.Instead of leaping deeper into the digital glitchiness that defined its name, 100 gecs found a fresher palette in the analog, including rawer vocals, raging guitar riffs and pummeling live percussion, courtesy of the journeyman rock session drummer Josh Freese (Guns N’ Roses, Weezer, A Perfect Circle). Though still wobbly enough to be recognizably gecs, the bones are sturdier.“It’s funny to think, are people going to call ‘Hollywood Baby’ hyperpop?” Les wondered, noting that many of the duo’s earlier conventions — “goofier snares,” pitched-up nightcore vocals, supersaw synths — are minimized or absent.“It could’ve been easier,” she shrugged, a pile of discarded ideas, a global pandemic and two headlining tours later. “We could’ve made an album in the style of the last one quickly. The songs would’ve been pretty OK. It was just boring.”While the band had previously nodded at maligned sounds like ska and nu-metal, cutting them with Auto-Tune, trap drums and E.D.M., “10,000 gecs” largely lingers in the crevices where the Warped Tour met the Family Values Tour, on the alternative edges of MTV’s turn-of-the-century “TRL” empire. In just 10 songs across less than 30 minutes, the album recalls Korn and Sum 41, Primus and Cypress Hill, even incorporating the ignominious rap-rock calling card of D.J. scratches over distortion.And although it is a truism of the pop-music present that a generation raised on the all-you-can-absorb buffet of piracy and streaming playlists has defeated the dogma of genre walls, 100 gecs are more pro-genre than post-genre, drawing from musical tropes with a superfan’s precision and depth of reference, à la the filmmaker Jordan Peele.None of it, Brady and Les insist, is ironic. “It would be so condescending to be like, we are going to pull from terrible genres,” Les said.“Genres that have no worth,” Brady mocked, recalling the tortured metaphors for collision that followed the release of “1000 gecs.” “Meme music made in a computer blender — that’s not how I think about it,” he said. “It’s just music that we like.”Les acknowledged a debt to viral detritus — “Crazy Frog” and “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” are frequent gecs touchstones — and called the musician and comedian Neil Cicierega an “Internet Jesus” for his YouTube mash-ups.“But there’s a lot of good craft built in there,” Les said. “We like playing with the different connotations that people do have with things — whether good or bad or silly or meme-y. But we’re pulling from them because we think they’re cool.”Pointing to the skank-ready new songs “Frog on the Floor” and “I Got My Tooth Removed,” Brady added, “People have been telling me that ska is bad my whole life.”Making music with Les, Brady said, “feels even more natural and easy than working by myself.”Ariel Fisher for The New York TimesIn multiple interviews that spanned a year of writing, recording, tweaking, backtracking, touring, writing and recording some more and ultimately letting go, Les and Brady could be gloomy (or just hung over), vaguely optimistic (or just hung over) and often cagey, but were always adamant that they were almost where they needed to be.“It’s getting better, but I wish it was getting more done,” Les said last spring, after a night of studio trial and error that lasted until 7 a.m. “This is a very spaghetti-at-the-wall process,” she said. “Then we whittle.”Like comedians who would rather die than explain their jokes, the two gecs — both of whom produce and sing — could sound more like platitudinal politicians while discussing their process than the mischievous jesters of their public personas. But their dedication to the project and solace in one another shone through.“There’s differences in making music when there’s that much more pressure,” Les said. “But we figure out how we can make every day be fun.”The pair first met as teenagers in suburban St. Louis, where Brady was honing a sample-based production style and Les was struggling as a fuzzed-out singer-songwriter. At first, Brady hoped to recruit Les as a vocalist for a group he envisioned as “Nine Inch Nails meets Death Grips meets Beastie Boys,” but it never happened. (“This is the album that we made instead of doing that band,” Les said of “10,000 gecs.”)When Brady moved to Los Angeles and Les to Chicago, the pair stayed in touch, bonding over their shared passions for the composer John Zorn’s Naked City and the experimental production of Oneohtrix Point Never and Sophie, but also the rap of Sicko Mobb and Lil Durk.In 2016, after a week together in Les’s apartment, the pair quietly released a five-song EP as 100 gecs, and continued to work remotely afterward, sending one another tracks and building an increasingly adventurous sound. Some of the group’s first shows, in early 2019 and 2020, took the form of virtual D.J. sets at mock music festivals — Fire Festival and Coalchella — in the world of Minecraft.Across the physical distance, the pair’s creative connection proved to be pure, uncomplicated and near-psychic. “It feels even more natural and easy than working by myself,” Brady said.Early on, Brady had also dabbled in the SoundCloud rap world, channeling the Auto-Tune wails of Travis Scott, and was managed by Cody Verdecias, a young A&R executive and former musician. Verdecias, who took on 100 gecs, hoped to elevate alternative music on a mass scale, and he found success in recent years with the hardcore band Turnstile, one of 21st-century rock’s greatest grass roots success stories.“I strive with our A&R team to be pioneering and championing things that are fresh and new,” Kallman said, crediting Verdecias with helping him see 100 gecs’ potential. “They just felt like a band that was going to have great cultural significance, build a scene and a loyal, dedicated following.”In Brady’s tiny, windowless studio last year, Verdecias said he had successfully been keeping Atlantic at bay as Les and Brady toiled. “I told the label today, big tracks coming!” Verdecias said. “That’s like my main job.” Even he hadn’t heard most of what was to come.“I like to think that after this album, they can become the 10-year album band,” Verdecias teased.Brady, noncommittal, noted that Led Zeppelin once “did like four albums in two years.”“Yeah, but they only wrote half the songs,” Les countered.“Who else wrote them?”“They’re like, old blues songs.”“They got it done either way,” Brady said.“10,000 gecs” includes sounds from the alternative edges of MTV’s turn-of-the-century “TRL” empire.Ariel Fisher for The New York TimesFour months later, when the time finally came to play the album for Atlantic, 100 gecs went all out, renting the venue Irving Plaza in Manhattan for the afternoon and rolling out a literal red carpet for the expectant suits. At an earsplitting volume befitting the album’s mosh-ready roar, “10,000 gecs” blared from an empty stage toward rows of seats, strobe lights flashing offbeat. Controlling the proceedings from above, Les and Brady headbanged in the balcony.Ultimately pleased with the finished product, the label targeted a release date still another eight months away — enough time to press vinyl LPs and prepare a proper marketing rollout.“We’re not scared of squandering anything,” Les said in December, as “10,000 gecs” became a palpable reality. “‘Oh, you had momentum’ — whatever.”“The album wasn’t done, so,” Brady added, “what were we supposed to do?”Time, it turned out, had been the ultimate luxury. Making harebrained music on their computers was one thing, befitting the lives of long-distance friends with day jobs and managed expectations. But working through the right guitar tones, the perfect live drum sound and the best of 200 vocal takes was a new privilege.“It’s not like I’m getting off work and having to do it in the evening,” Les, who moved to Los Angeles in 2020 to pursue 100 gecs full-time, said. “It’s much easier to make something when you’re not worried about paying rent.”Still, the duo insisted that their own expectations were more modest than those of their biggest boosters: release the album, start another, “do the tour, maybe sell some T-shirts,” Brady said.“Nirvana? That was a complex situation,” Les had offered earlier. “There’s a reason Kurt Cobain’s suicide note is pretty crazy.”“There’s definitely growing pains, but neither of us are trying to make every dollar we can,” she said. “Making music is such a fun thing. If it wasn’t fun, we’d just stop doing it.”For now, though, Les added, “If I had the choice of doing this and doing anything else, I would be doing this.” More

The tenor Piotr Beczala sings with uncanny serenity and command in the title role of Wagner’s opera, directed by François Girard with little subtlety.Directors love Wagner’s operas, which infuse the suggestive sketchiness of parables into clearly conceived plots and characters. They offer both strong bones and flexibility.“Lohengrin,” about an anxious and divided society into which arrives a figure with magical powers and secrets, has recently been placed in settings as varied as a laboratory, a classroom and a neo-fascist town square.And, on Sunday at the Metropolitan Opera, in a dark, blunt mixture of pre-modern and post-apocalyptic elements. Directed by François Girard, the production suffers from a facile children’s-theater color scheme, but boasts a shining musical performance from the orchestra and the two leading singers.At the Met in 1998, Robert Wilson distilled “Lohengrin” into a vision of hovering bars of light and glacially shifting gestures. The opening night audience, used to hyper-naturalistic Wagner productions, rebelled with a storm of boos. But 25 years later, the Wilson staging seems like an ahead-of-its-time landmark, a harbinger of how the company’s dramatic range would broaden.Among the highlights of this new era has been Girard’s staging, from 2013, of Wagner’s “Parsifal.” Set on a stark hillside among a group of men in white button-ups and black pants, this was a take on the opera’s protectors of the Holy Grail as a contemporary cult over which planets loomed and orbited in projections.Those cosmic projections have returned in Girard’s “Lohengrin,” with a kind of catastrophic heavenly explosion depicted during the orchestral prelude. The action that follows begins under a blasted wall that hangs at an angle over the stage, a huge hole open to a view of morphing stars and galaxies.The people who enter are dressed in early medieval robes and heavy jewels; a pagan throne is formed from tree roots. But the wall is made of reinforced concrete, and Lohengrin, the mystical knight who soon arrives to avenge the honor of a woman accused of killing her brother, is wearing the spare modern-day outfit of the Grail defenders in Girard’s “Parsifal.”The connection makes some sense: As we learn at the end of “Lohengrin,” when its title character’s secrets are revealed, Lohengrin is Parsifal’s son. But Girard’s nod to his “Parsifal” doesn’t do his new production any favors. While that “Parsifal” was revelatory in imagining the opera’s climax as the integration of women into the Grail cult, this “Lohengrin” isn’t interested in fresh interpretations. No one will mistake it for a landmark in Met history.Instead, Girard’s “Lohengrin,” which brings the opera back to the company after 17 years, is an emphatic, serviceable, basically conservative framework for the piece. Thankfully, some superb singers fill the frame. Most important, almost floating through the staging with uncanny serenity and dignity, is Piotr Beczala in the title role.Beczala, who has appeared at the Met mostly in French and Italian classics, was an impressive Lohengrin.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThis square-jawed, always stylish tenor is best known at the Met for playing dashing men in French and Italian classics, like the Duke in “Rigoletto,” Rodolfo in “La Bohème” and, this winter, the ardent Loris in “Fedora.” But the clearest precursor to his melancholy Lohengrin is his Lensky in Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin,” who sings with wintry loneliness as he prepares to duel and die.Beczala performs the Wagner role — pure, precise and often treacherously exposed — with total security and elegance. The soft passages have fairy-tale delicacy; his outpourings, a robust plangency reminiscent of his more extroverted roles. But this Lohengrin, even at his most passionate, has the proper coolness of an otherworldly figure. He is human, but not entirely.More on N.Y.C. Theater, Music and Dance This SpringMusical Revivals: Why do the worst characters in musicals get the best tunes? In upcoming revivals, world leaders both real and mythical get an image makeover they may not deserve, our critic writes.Rising Stars: These actors turned playwrights all excavate memories and meaning from their lives in creating these four shows, which arrive in New York in the coming months.Gustavo Dudamel: The New York Philharmonic’s new music director, will conduct Mahler’s Ninth Symphony in May. It will be one of the hottest tickets in town.Feeling the Buzz: “Bob Fosse’s Dancin’” is back on Broadway. Its stars? An eclectic cast of dancers who are anything but machines.There is also an intriguing coolness when we meet Tamara Wilson’s unjustly accused Elsa, a glassy sheen to her tone as icy-blond as her hair. But while Beczala’s Lohengrin maintains his reserve, Wilson’s voice gradually warms, gently molten in their love duet and palpably angry in confrontation.Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the Met’s music director, conducts this grand score with a sure sense for the elasticity of pace that makes Wagner’s scenes breathe. He led the orchestra on Sunday in broad expansions before focusing it back into tumbling momentum. The shimmering start of the prelude to Act I was fragile without being wispy, building with lyrical flow to a stirring climax.There are onstage trumpets in this opera, and extra brass forces in the balconies. But Nézet-Séguin kept the textures light; even at its mightiest, the sound was never stolid.Tamara Wilson as Elsa with Beczala.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesChanging shirts between the acts, from black to red to white, he also underlined the already obvious play with color that is all too central to the staging. The choristers manipulate complicated sets of magnets in their robes to reveal red, green or white linings, depending on the dramatic needs of the moment. (The sets and costumes were designed by Tim Yip, an Academy Award winner for “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon”; the gloomy lighting, by David Finn; the interstellar projections, by Peter Flaherty.)Green symbolizes King Heinrich, who has arrived in Brabant (around Antwerp in present-day Belgium) with his followers to rally the people there to join him in fighting off a coming invasion from the east. Red is the color of the native Brabantians, who are under the sinister influence of Friedrich von Telramund and his wife, the sorceress Ortrud. And white evokes the innocence and purity of Elsa, to whose aid Lohengrin has come.Fine, if rather on the nose. But the endless flashings of the different linings on the beat of musical flourishes — and the visible struggles that some choristers on Sunday had with the magnets — grew tiresome.And must every Met production now have bits of choreographed slinking and twirling? Here, credited to Serge Bennathan, were lightly dancing attendants with lanterns, heads-thrown-back courtiers, whirling nobles and laughably in-time marching. It was all of a piece with a production that’s straightforward to the point of eye-roll overstatement.As Ortrud, the soprano Christine Goerke was perhaps the performer closest to the mood of the staging: She’s unsubtle, if effective, constantly wringing her hands and gripping her necklaces. Girard strands her alone, making over-the-top witchy gestures, for almost the whole of the Act III prelude. We get it: She’s evil!Goerke’s voice has vigor, but rich phrases alternate with sour, snarled ones; some high notes shiver, while some just miss the mark. The bass-baritone Evgeny Nikitin, an imposing presence, sounded weary and out of tune as Telramund. I found myself wishing that the baritone Brian Mulligan, who sang the Herald with unusually vivid intensity, had that larger part instead. The bass Günther Groissböck was a forceful Heinrich.Wilson and, top, Christine Goerke. The choristers manipulate their robes to reveal red, green or white linings, depending on the dramatic needs of the moment.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThe Met’s chorus, in one of the most difficult works in its repertory, was both stentorian and evocative: In the awe-struck passage after Lohengrin introduces himself, its ethereal singing was almost more felt than heard. Only in some of the most complex counterpoint could the sound have been crisper, the words sharper.Girard’s staging is more lucid than his murky take on Wagner’s “Der Fliegende Holländer,” which will be revived at the Met this spring. It does, at least, convey the urgency of the march toward war that gives the opera its stakes. And this production will always be an unintentional memorial to the Russian invasion of Ukraine.Conceived as a co-production of the Bolshoi Theater and the Met, it premiered at the Bolshoi in Moscow on Feb. 24, 2022, the day of the invasion. Soon it became clear that sharing the production would be impossible, and that the sets would have to be rebuilt from scratch, adding over $1 million to the show’s cost.“Lohengrin” is an opera with war on its mind. But King Heinrich and his call to defend Germany against invaders don’t make for an easy parallel with the besieged Ukraine and its president, Volodymyr Zelensky.That is because Heinrich’s story was taken up — by Wagner and, later, by the Nazis — as a symbol of pan-Germanic nationalism, with all its darkness and xenophobia. That is the context in which a few opera companies have changed a word in Lohengrin’s final line, when he declares, at the magical return of Elsa’s brother, that the people’s “Führer,” or leader, has arrived.To further avoid the associations of this savior figure with Hitler, many directors offer a comment in how they depict the brother. Is there something ominous about him? Something redemptive? Anything?Girard, though, has a very Aryan-looking, blond young man in flowing, angelic white come down the stairs, a final odd bit of naïveté in this “Lohengrin,” a production that ends up being too simplistic for a complex moment and a complex opera.LohengrinContinues through April 1 at the Metropolitan Opera, Manhattan; metopera.org. More

The R&B singer-songwriter matches chart runs by Adele and the country star Wallen, who is about to release his next album, “One Thing at a Time.”Can anything halt SZA’s reign over the Billboard album chart?For a 10th time, “SOS,” the second studio LP by SZA — the genre-blurring R&B singer and songwriter born Solána Imani Rowe — is the No. 1 album in the country. In the last 10 years, only six other releases have lasted as long at the top: Adele’s “25” (2015) and Morgan Wallen’s “Dangerous: The Double Album” (2021), also with 10 weeks apiece; Taylor Swift’s “1989” (2014), with 11; and the “Frozen” soundtrack (2013), Drake’s “Views” (2016) and Bad Bunny’s “Un Verano Sin Ti” (2022), each with 13.Since it came out in early December, “SOS” has been a steady streaming hit, though its numbers have gradually slipped. For the current chart, the album logged the equivalent of 87,000 sales in the United States, including 118 million streams, according to the tracking service Luminate. In its 11 weeks out, “SOS” has racked up nearly two billion streams.Also this week, “Trustfall,” the latest by Pink, opens at No. 2 with the equivalent of 74,500 sales. That total includes 59,000 copies sold as a complete package and 17 million streams. Swift’s “Midnights” holds at No. 3 and Metro Boomin’s “Heroes & Villains” is No. 4.How much longer can SZA dominate? A few just-released titles could challenge “SOS” on next week’s chart, including “AfterLyfe,” by the rapper Yeat, and “Mañana Será Bonito,” by the neon-haired Colombian star Karol G.But SZA still has a few levers left to pull. Last week she embarked on her first arena tour, and any day now she is expected to release an expanded version of “SOS” with as many as 10 additional songs, which could give the LP a second wind on the chart.If any artist is capable of displacing SZA, it is surely Wallen, who on Friday will release “One Thing at a Time,” his third studio album and the follow-up to “Dangerous,” which has had an astounding chart run. This week, “Dangerous” is No. 5, notching its 108th time in the Top 10 — more than any LP except the soundtrack to “The Sound of Music” and the “My Fair Lady” cast recording. More

One of our wisest pianists appeared at Carnegie Hall with some of the wisest music written for her instrument.One thing die-hard classical music fans like to do during a concert’s intermission is compare notes — about the performance at hand, about what else has been going on around town and about what’s coming up.It was during one of those conversations recently that I asked a friend whether he was planning to see the pianist Mitsuko Uchida’s recital of late Beethoven sonatas at Carnegie Hall. He said no, he didn’t need to hear her in that repertoire.Understandable, to a point. She has toured this music before, and recorded it, marvelously, in 2006. But Uchida, 74, is an artist who returns to the familiar, especially the works of Mozart, Schubert and Beethoven, as part of a lifelong argument for the benefits of repeated examination. “The great composers always change,” she once said in an interview. “And as you change, they change.”More on N.Y.C. Theater, Music and Dance This SpringMusical Revivals: Why do the worst characters in musicals get the best tunes? In upcoming revivals, world leaders both real and mythical get an image makeover they may not deserve, our critic writes.Rising Stars: These actors turned playwrights all excavate memories and meaning from their lives in creating these four shows, which arrive in New York in the coming months.Gustavo Dudamel: The New York Philharmonic’s new music director, will conduct Mahler’s Ninth Symphony in May. It will be one of the hottest tickets in town.Feeling the Buzz: “Bob Fosse’s Dancin’” is back on Broadway. Its stars? An eclectic cast of dancers who are anything but machines.At Carnegie on Friday, in her recital of Beethoven’s final three piano sonatas, Uchida did behave like a different artist from the one who recorded these works nearly two decades ago. I don’t believe that age is inherently necessary or helpful in music — Igor Levit had a handle on Beethoven’s late style in his 20s — but what was reflected onstage was the unaffected wisdom and clarity that comes with decades of interpretive rigor and commitment.Uchida’s recording of these pieces is insistently lyrical, borderline Schubertian. The sonatas were, in her reading at the time, intimate, private musings that were made public but didn’t seem as if they needed to be. On Friday, however, her sound was often comparatively bright and extreme — the sforzandos true explosions, the pianissimos exquisitely soft-spoken. Each sonata unfurled with improvisatory freedom, absolutely alive, its heart showing more than its head. Yet because of Uchida’s technique, her pedalwork and precision, the scores were also transparently multidimensional. You could hear, with awe-inspiring ease, every line threaded through the fugue of the Op. 110’s finale. Then and now, her playing was persuasive; Beethoven’s music can withstand, even demand, both approaches.In her Op. 109, the Sonata No. 30 in E, the lilting vivace opening crested and fell in force — more a wave than a ripple, but, in its alluringly long line, still beating from the same source. This work, and the two others on the program, can be difficult to voice, to tease a melody from tangled rhythms and tricky fingerings; on Friday, Uchida lent just the right amount of weight to each finger to emphasize the counterpoint, revealing the architecture of the score, without distracting from the singing melodies it supports.At times, particularly in the Op. 110 Sonata in A flat, her sound approached that of lieder by Schubert, who seemed to trade places with Bach as the arioso alternated with an intricate, three-part fugue. In Uchida’s hands, that finale — in Beethovenian fashion, a journey from profound despair to euphoric heights — achieved a kind of holy grandeur.She reached even higher in her account of the Op. 111 in C minor. In the closing Arietta — after the straightforward theme and the initial variations on it, including one that famously swings like a glimpse of music’s jazzier future — with a lot of score left to go, she seemed to depart from everything that had come before. Her trills twinkling, her playing more personal than performative, she followed Beethoven’s leap to the cosmos and remained with him to the whispered final measure.Afterward, Uchida repeatedly returned to the stage to bow but never to encore; how could she? In her trademark way, every time she faced the audience she looked a bit surprised, then grateful — as if, after sharing all she had, she was the one who should be thanking us.Mitsuko UchidaPerformed on Friday at Carnegie Hall, Manhattan. Uchida returns there for a master class on Wednesday and a concert with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra on March 9. More