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      Review: Handel’s ‘Serse,’ With Yuks and Exquisite Playing

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      The English Concert’s performance at Carnegie Hall showed off the ensemble’s elastic responsiveness.If you eat up Baroque shtick, as I do, the English Concert’s presentation of Handel’s “Serse” at Carnegie Hall on Sunday was probably right up your alley. Those with more rarefied taste were likely satisfied too, as the conductor Harry Bicket and his ensemble of early-music players offered up a surfeit of exquisite music-making.The English Concert’s annual Handel series — this performance was the first since a shining “Semele” in 2019 — gives New Yorkers the chance to hear Baroque opera and oratorios performed by period instrumentalists of a high caliber. A certain magic occurs when Bicket gives the down beat: The players unleash gleaming rays of sound from the Carnegie stage.The primary differences between the English Concert and a modern ensemble like the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, which Bicket has also conducted, are its transparent texture and alert responsiveness. The English Concert can slow the tempo or shave a few decibels off the volume from one bar to the next. There’s elasticity in the way the ensemble’s sound expands and contracts, reacting to fluctuations in the intensity of the characters’ feelings and enlivening music built predominantly from strings and continuo.Short ariettas and ariosos keep “Serse,” a comic love story, moving along. It’s peopled by serious historical characters — apocrypha be damned — and draws its humor from their unlikely humanization. Serse, the king, leverages his position to come between his brother, Arsamene, and Romilda — much to the delight of Romilda’s sister, Atalanta, who has designs on her beloved. In the process, Serse forsakes his betrothed, Amastre, who spends much of the opera fulminating while dressed as a man.At Carnegie, the jokes started early. Lucy Crowe’s Romilda made a surprise entrance by popping up from a seat in the viola section. Daniela Mack’s Amastre proudly brandished a disguise that consisted chiefly of wearing sunglasses. Mary Bevan’s Atalanta, an incorrigible flirt, made a pass at Bicket and then at someone in the front row. Twice. And there were more conductor shenanigans, a genre mainstay of recent vintage: Bicket interrupted a tense moment in the drama to deliver a most unwelcome letter. The audience loved it.The show’s star was undoubtedly Crowe, who tuned the color of her soprano to the music at hand. She summoned lovely, pastel tone and lambent high notes for “Nè men con l’ombre” and turned the brief but crucial duet “L’amerete?” into a fully realized scene. Clean attacks, silky legato and enchanting trills are at her disposal. If her refreshing impetuousness introduced a little roughness into her sound, it hardly mattered: She is a Handel singer to be heard.The expressive opportunities Handel gives singers constrained rather than liberated some of the other performers. The mezzo-soprano Emily D’Angelo, who released a stirring album of contemporary songs, “enargeia,” last year, was largely humorless as Serse, a self-involved autocrat who nevertheless must plunge into romantic fancies and explosions of temper. When the music aligned with D’Angelo’s stern portrayal, as in the fiery “Se bramate d’amar, chi vi sdegna,” it gave off sparks. Her voice sharpened into focus as she propelled the aria with biting sound and fleet runs.As Amastre, Mack’s dark, ruddy mezzo-soprano shone best against spare orchestrations. Paula Murrihy sang with polish but had difficulty finding the gravitas for Arsamene’s largely unadorned music. Mary Bevan relied on cute bits instead of phrasing to convey Atalanta’s coquettishness but connected in the character’s wounded moments. William Dazeley’s Elviro, a study in buffoonery, sneaked genuinely impressive high notes into his comic-relief responsibilities. As Ariodate, Neal Davies showed off a trim bass-baritone with some pep in it.With three hours of glorious music, the English Concert nearly banished memories of the three years it took for the ensemble to return. Next up: Handel’s “Solomon” — in only 10 months’ time.The English ConcertPerformed on Sunday at Carnegie Hall, Manhattan. More

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      A Violin From Hollywood’s Golden Age Aims at an Auction Record

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      Played in “The Wizard of Oz” and other classic films, Toscha Seidel’s Stradivarius could sell for almost $20 million.Rare violins once owned by famed virtuosos like Fritz Kreisler, Jascha Heifetz and Yehudi Menuhin have sold privately in recent years for up to $20 million. The instruments they played typically bear their names, like the “Earl of Plymouth” Stradivarius, which to burnish its reputation, mystique and market value is now also referred to as the “ex-Kreisler.”Can Toscha Seidel work the same marketing magic — even though his fame came mostly from Hollywood rather than the concert hall?Musicians and collectors will know soon. After a global tour currently underway, the violin Seidel owned and played, the “da Vinci” Stradivarius from 1714, will be sold by the online auction house Tarisio, from May 18 through June 9. It is the first Stradivarius from the so-called golden age of violin making to be auctioned in decades.Unlike most musical instruments, over time all Stradivarius violins have acquired names, some rather fanciful, like “the Sleeping Beauty.” The famed virtuoso Paganini called his “Il Canone.” The “da Vinci” has no connection to Leonardo. As a marketing tactic, a dealer who sold three Stradivarius violins in the 1920s named them all after famous Renaissance painters: in addition to the “da Vinci,” the “Titian” and the “Michaelangelo.”The violin itself is naturally the most important factor in determining its value, with instruments made by the Stradivari, Amati and Guarneri families of Renaissance Italy commanding the highest prices. Condition is another crucial consideration. But so, too, is the identity of its prior owners — its provenance.Toscha Seidel, right, in 1918.Genthe photograph collection/Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs DivisionFew may recognize Seidel’s name today. But he was so successful by the 1920s that he was able to buy the “da Vinci” for $25,000 (over $400,000 today), a sale featured on the front page of The New York Times on April 27, 1924. Seidel said at the time he wouldn’t trade the violin “for a million dollars” and considered it his most treasured possession, adding, “The tone is of outstanding power and beauty.”Seidel was so well known in his heyday that George and Ira Gershwin wrote a comic song about him and three of his Russian Jewish peers: “Mischa, Sasha, Toscha, Jascha.” (“We are four fiddlers three.”) Seidel and Heifetz were both born in Ukraine; both studied in St. Petersburg with the eminent teacher Leopold Auer; and both emigrated to the United States after the upheavals of the Russian Revolution. They made their concert debuts at Carnegie Hall within months of each other, to critical acclaim.Albert Einstein took violin lessons from Seidel, and together they performed Bach’s Double Concerto for a fund-raiser. They sported thick shocks of unruly hair that reinforced the caricature of the long-haired musician, like Liszt.Both Seidel and Heifetz settled in Los Angeles, where the burgeoning movie industry paved the way for Seidel’s success. By the 1930s, he was surrounded there by a crowd of mostly Jewish exiles from Nazi Germany and war-torn Europe. Among them were the composers Igor Stravinsky, Arnold Schoenberg and Erich Wolfgang Korngold.Seidel played the principal violin part in many of Korngold’s celebrated film scores, which included “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “The Adventures of Robin Hood” (for which Korngold won an Academy Award) and “Anthony Adverse” (ditto). The two men recorded a violin and piano arrangement of Korngold’s suite for “Much Ado About Nothing,” with the composer at the piano.Music directors and composers sought out Seidel’s warm, rich tone. He was the concertmaster for the Paramount Studio Orchestra and played the violin solos for MGM’s “The Wizard of Oz” and David Selznick’s “Intermezzo,” in which a famed violinist (played by Leslie Howard) falls in love with his accompanist (Ingrid Bergman).“That we largely associate love scenes or depictions of the less fortunate in films — or any scene evoking tears or strong emotions — with the sound of the violin is largely due to Seidel,” Adam Baer, a violinist and journalist, in a 2017 article for The American Scholar. (Baer’s violin teacher studied with Seidel and insisted that his pupils listen to recordings of Seidel performances.)Seidel’s violin playing was sought out for its warm, rich tone.Andrew White for The New York TimesThough best known for his movie work, Seidel also played standard classical repertoire, soloing with orchestras and touring in recital. In the 1930s, he was heard by millions of radio listeners as the musical director and a frequent soloist with CBS’s symphony orchestra. In 1934 he had his own weekly broadcast on the network, “The Toscha Seidel Program.” (Several recordings showcasing his lush sound are on YouTube, including a 1945 recording of Chausson’s “Poème” with the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra led by Leopold Stokowski.)“He was a singing violinist, influenced by the cantorial tradition,” Baer said in an interview. “He played with as much depth of tone and emotional intensity as anyone I’ve heard on disk.”But Seidel never achieved Heifetz’s enduring international fame. In Los Angeles, Heifetz often called on Seidel to play with him in string quartets, literally assuming the role of second fiddle.As the golden age of Hollywood faded, the studios abandoned their in-house orchestras, relying instead on freelancers. And as he aged, Seidel developed a neurological condition that gradually diminished his playing. This once-eminent violinist ended up in a pit orchestra in Las Vegas before retiring to an avocado farm in California. He died in 1962, at 62, with his violin by far his most valuable possession.That violin last sold at auction in London in 1974 for 34,000 pounds (over $3 million today). It is currently owned by the Japanese restaurant chain magnate Tokuji Munetsugu, who has amassed a collection of rare string instruments and sponsors an international violin competition in Japan. (Munetsugu, 73, has not said why he is selling it.)Film music has been making its way into concert halls, and the “Star Wars” and “Jaws” composer John Williams is arguably the most popular living American composer. But movie scores and their mostly anonymous players have long been largely shunned by the classical music elite.Could the “da Vinci” sale nevertheless set a record?The “Lady Blunt” Stradivarius, once owned by the granddaughter of Lord Byron, holds the current record for a violin sold at auction. (Its 2011 sale, for $15.9 million, was also handled by Tarisio.) Like the “Messiah” Stradivarius now owned by the British Museum, the “Lady Blunt” was hardly ever played, and remains in pristine condition.Carlos Tome, a violinist and a co-owner of Tarisio, said the auction house has not published an estimate for the “da Vinci.” Citing its rarity — a Stradivarius from the golden period — its fine condition and its “unique Hollywood provenance,” he said he expects it to sell in the $15 million to $20 million range.“It could set a record,” he said, noting the emergence of a class of wealthy collectors since the sale of the “Lady Blunt” a decade ago. (Other dealers say there have since been multiple private sales at prices over $20 million.)Baer dismissed the notion that the Hollywood pedigree of the “da Vinci” might curb its value at auction. While he conceded Seidel did not record the most intellectually rigorous music, he added that “the fact he was a Hollywood performer shouldn’t diminish the value at all.”“He was a great classical musician before he came to Hollywood,” Baer added. “And ‘The Wizard of Oz’ is a pretty big deal.” More

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      Future Earns an Eighth No. 1 Album With ‘I Never Liked You’

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      The Atlanta rapper’s latest release had the largest numbers of the year so far, but big new LPs from Bad Bunny and Jack Harlow will register on next week’s chart.For most of the year so far, sales of new music have been pretty unremarkable, with even the No. 1 album posting modest numbers week after week. But those doldrums may now be over, with a hit new LP by the rapper Future and a slew of high-profile releases coming — including a surprise release by the Puerto Rican superstar Bad Bunny that is poised to make a big splash on next week’s chart.This week, “I Never Liked You” became the eighth chart-topping album by Future, an Atlanta rapper who has been a mainstay on the charts for a decade. With guest appearances by Kanye West (now known as Ye), Gunna, Young Thug, Drake, Kodak Black and others, the album had the equivalent of 222,000 sales in the United States, more than any release this year, according to the tracking service Luminate. That total is a composite number attributed mostly to streaming, with songs from the album getting nearly 284 million clicks in its opening week.Those numbers may well be eclipsed next week by Bad Bunny’s “Un Verano Sin Ti,” which was released on Friday with little advance notice. Bad Bunny is a global streaming colossus — he has been Spotify’s top streaming artist for the last two years — and “Un Verano” broke that service’s record for the most clicks around the world for an album in a single day (topping Drake’s “Certified Lover Boy” last year). Another big new album released last week: “Come Home the Kids Miss You,” by Jack Harlow, the Kentucky rapper who joined Lil Nas X on last year’s No. 1 song “Industry Baby.”Also this week, the Weeknd’s “Dawn FM” rises 33 spots to No. 2 after its arrival on vinyl, matching the album’s chart high from when it was released in January. Morgan Wallen’s “Dangerous” is No. 3, Miranda Lambert’s new “Palomino” is No. 4 and Olivia Rodrigo’s “Sour” is in fifth place.Other major albums on the horizon include Kendrick Lamar (Friday), Harry Styles (May 20), Post Malone (June 3), BTS (June 10) and Luke Combs (June 24). More

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      In ‘American Song Contest,’ It’s About the Songs, Not Just the Lungs

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      Ahead of this week’s final round, a writer and photographer went backstage for this state-versus-state competition based on Eurovision. The singers get it. Does America?LOS ANGELES — Backstage at a live broadcast of NBC’s “American Song Contest” last week, the crooner Michael Bolton looked relaxed as ever. He was well aware, though, that he was the odd contestant out.“I’ve been asked, ‘Why would you get involved with a show like this?’” he said after performing his inspirational ballad “Beautiful World” in the second semifinal. “And my first answer is my instinct, which is that my love for writing music is such an indelible, permanent love and passion of mine that it makes perfect sense.”Michael Bolton represents Connecticut in the contest. Unlike several other established stars in the competition, he has made it to the final round.Rosie Marks for The New York Times“It’s a little nerve-racking at times,” he added. “I’m definitely not the youngest person in the room.”Bolton is 69, if anybody’s counting, and he did make it to the final round of this reality competition series, in which representatives from each of the 50 United States — as well as five U.S. territories and the District of Columbia — have competed every Monday night since March 21. (Bolton represents Connecticut.) Inspired by the Eurovision Song Contest and hosted by Kelly Clarkson and Snoop Dogg, the show pits stars against hopefuls for the title of Best Original Song.When Bolton goes up against the other nine finalists on Monday night, most of the competition will be less than half his age, including: Grant Knoche, a 19-year old Texan who toured with Kidz Bop; Jordan Smith, who won the 2015 edition of “The Voice” at 22; and AleXa, 25, who was born and raised in Oklahoma but moved to Seoul to pursue a career in K-pop.Stela Cole, representing Georgia, during a dress rehearsal a Universal Studios. Rosie Marks for The New York TimesIn many circumstances, Bolton’s experience and star power might confer an automatic advantage. Just don’t tell that to Jewel (Alaska), Macy Gray (Ohio) and Sisqó (Maryland), all of whom were eliminated in earlier rounds.“In some ways it’s harder for the more established artists,” said Audrey Morrissey, an executive producer of “A.S.C.” and “The Voice.” “They’re not on competition shows like this. There’s more at stake for them than for someone that no one knows.”Still, it’s not easy for a young artist to perform for millions of viewers with so much riding on the outcome. Perhaps the question that counts most heading into the final is simply: Who has the best song?Grant Knoche (Texas), 19, spent four years touring with the musical group Kidz Bop before entering the contest. He and his song “Mr. Independent” have made it to the final round.Rosie Marks for The New York TimesAmid rehearsals for the May 2 semifinal, and backstage during the broadcast, several contestants talked about their appreciation for the show’s emphasis on original material. The Tennessee-based singer-songwriter Tyler Braden had considered trying out for another TV singing competition earlier in his career, but he ultimately decided against it.Now he is among the finalists, announced Wednesday, with a song he wrote called “Seventeen.” (The majority of contestants had at least a hand in writing their own songs.)“I’ve always believed that the song is No. 1,” Braden, 33, said in his dressing room before the broadcast, wearing jeans and a ball cap. “You can look the part, and your shows can be amazing, but it comes down to the song, and the lyrics and the melody, the feel — and this contest is all about that.”“You can look the part, and your shows can be amazing, but it comes down to the song, Tyler Braden (Tennessee) said. “This contest is all about that.”Rosie Marks for The New York TimesGiven all the talk of American polarization in 2022, I was curious whether any interstate tensions would be palpable off-camera. But everybody I observed appeared genuinely to get along. The word “camaraderie” popped up in every conversation.“I’ve made so many great friends out of this, lifelong friends,” Knoche, from Texas, said. “I feel like the whole show just brings states and everyone together even more.”Tenelle, of American Samoa, practiced in the bathroom before her performance.Rosie Marks for The New York TimesIn rehearsals, I watched the rootsy Chloe Fredericks (North Dakota), the conceptual-pop princess Stela Cole (Georgia) and the EDM-friendly Broderick Jones (Kansas) groove along to the lilting, island-flavored ballad “Full Circle” by Tenelle (American Samoa), then clap enthusiastically. The Latina girl group Sweet Taboo (California) and the dance-R&B diva Enisa (New York) laughed off my wheedling about their place in any costal rivalry (made moot when neither made it to the final).Considering several of the contestants were making their live-television debut, most appeared almost freakishly calm. The most vocal behind the scenes was Tenelle, all revved up after rehearsal. “I don’t want this to be over,” she said. “But I want to win this mother!”Tenelle with Chloe Fredericks (North Dakota), who seemed to have become all of the other contestants’ new best friend. Rosie Marks for The New York TimesExuberance seemed to be Tenelle’s factory setting but still: She knew she had to kill it on the actual broadcast. (And she did; she’ll be in the final Monday night.)Some eliminations have been unexpected, to say the least. (Cuts are determined by a points system that combines audience and jury votes to balance the advantage of bigger states.) The charismatic cowboy rapper Ryan Charles (Wyoming), whose song “New Boot Goofin’” was an early favorite of Snoop’s and proved extremely TikTok-able, did not make it past the semifinal. And I was personally disappointed when John Morgan (North Carolina) and his Taylor Swift-like ballad “Right in the Middle” didn’t make the cut.Jordan Smith (Kentucky), left, and AleXa (Oklahoma) backstage at the semifinals. Both went on to the final round. Rosie Marks for The New York TimesBut such are the realities of competition, and all the contestants received notes from the creative staff after rehearsal to help them improve their chances. “Charm is all,” said Christer Bjorkman, one of several Swedish executive producers, all of whom have connections to Eurovision. He and Tenelle were in a windowless viewing room, scrutinizing the third run-through of “Full Circle,” which involved a not-negligible amount of pyrotechnics.Camera crews were a part of the dress rehearsals. The performances are lavishly produced, often including backup dancers and pyrotechnics. Rosie Marks for The New York Times“It’s all about contact,” Bjorkman he told her. It was about connecting with the camera and, thus, the audience.For Allen Stone (Washington), producers suggested that he tone things down for his blue-eyed soul entry, “A Bit of Both.” “I was trying to put some extra mustard on my vocal,” he said, only to be told, “It’s a really good song; don’t over-sing’” — advice possibly never uttered in the history of “American Idol” or “The Voice.”Whatever Stone did worked; his performance on April 25 put him through to the final.Glow sticks were given out to members of the studio audience.Rosie Marks for The New York TimesDespite the good songs and high production values, the show’s ratings have been underwhelming. I asked Morrissey why she thought they weren’t better.“I know that everybody’s disappointed,” she said, visibly wincing under her mask. “But it is a big, new brand. It is a very different sort of mechanism — there isn’t another show where performance happens and there isn’t a critique right after.” No evisceration from Simon Cowell. No bromantic hugs from Adam Levine.The emphasis on song craft may have added to the growing pains. “That has been a big question for us this whole time: If someone makes it to the final, they’re going to perform the same song the same way three times,” Morrissey said. “Is our American audience going to get that?”Musicians during a dress rehearsal for Tenelle, whose entry is a lilting, island-flavored ballad called “Full Circle.” Rosie Marks for The New York TimesEuropean viewers certainly have, though it wouldn’t be the first time trans-Atlantic tastes differed. Since 1956, Eurovision, in which artists from different countries compete, has been an institution, making international stars out of acts like ABBA (Sweden, 1974) and Maneskin (Italy, 2021). Given the uncertainty, “A.S.C.” producers “made a very purposeful decision to come out of the gate with big performances,” Morrissey said, referring to the show’s lavish production — very much in the Eurovision tradition, though still nowhere near that contest’s camp excesses.Two people who did not need convincing were the “A.S.C.” hosts, who have decades of combined songwriting experience: Clarkson, who catapulted to fame after winning the first “American Idol” in 2002, has even blurted out, “I want to do this one!” after some numbers.Tenelle with her backup dancers and musicians during her performance in the semifinals. Rosie Marks for The New York Times“I didn’t realize how amazing those songs were going to be,” she said while getting made up for the live broadcast. “You have these beautiful ballads from Hueston or Michael,” she added, referring to the mononymic artist from Rhode Island and to Bolton. “And you have these fast ones like AleXa — from fricking Oklahoma!”Finding viable contestants from some states wasn’t easy, but the search turned up some gems. Fredericks, of the Mandan, Hidatsa and Arikara Nation, was spotted playing in Hollywood by some scouts. They were happy to learn she was from North Dakota.The contest is hosted by Snoop and Kelly Clarkson, who herself catapulted to fame after winning the first “American Idol,” in 2002.Rosie Marks for The New York Times“They said ‘Well, we don’t have anybody from there,’” Fredericks, 24, said with a booming laugh that may help explain why she seemed to be all of the other contestants’ new best friend.“I was very surprised that I went through the first round because I’m a small artist and some of us here have bigger followings,” she added. She did that and more: On Monday, she’ll be in the finals.Whatever the show’s chances for a Season 2, the concept of “A.S.C.” seems to have pleased the hosts, who volunteered separately that they loved being free just to cheerlead.“That’s the beauty: that I don’t have to be the judge, that I don’t have to put my decision-making on who moves on,” Snoop said during a commercial break. “I can be open and just enjoy the performances,” he added. “I don’t have no dog in this fight.” More

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      Review: ‘Falling Out of Time’ Gives Song to a Father’s Grief

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      Osvaldo Golijov’s evening-length work, based on the book by David Grossman about his son, had its New York premiere at Zankel Hall.I didn’t know whether I was the right person to review the New York premiere of Osvaldo Golijov’s song cycle “Falling Out of Time” at Zankel Hall on Friday.The work is based on the Israeli writer David Grossman’s book of the same name — part novel, play and epic poem — which expresses the grief after his son, Uri, died as a soldier in his country’s 2006 invasion of Lebanon, my parents’ homeland, which has been rocked for half a century by violent factionalism, including a civil war that took two of my father’s sisters.At Zankel, members of the Silkroad Ensemble gave voice to a father’s cry across a dozen or so songs in 80 minutes. The use of folk idioms — Sephardic, Middle Eastern and something like the blues — made the performance eerily intimate and age-old, like a community’s spirit had been cracked open. The piece provides a wide embrace, one that wrapped around me, too.Grossman’s book does not name a village or a country, nor does it assign heroes and villains in a geopolitical conflict. What it does do is describe people united in mourning. Golijov dedicated his “tone poem in voices” to the Parents’ Circle-Families Forum, an organization that brings together bereaved Israeli and Palestinian families.It makes sense, then, that Golijov built the sound world of “Falling” out of the Silkroad Ensemble’s melting pot of instruments. There’s a classical string quartet; a jazz bass; a kamancheh, a Persian bowed instrument; a pipa, a Chinese lute, which takes the place a zither might otherwise occupy in such music; a modular synthesizer; a drum kit; a one-man brass section; and three folk vocalists who approximate Near Eastern modes without actually using microtones.In the book, the Walking Man departs his home and leaves behind his wife to go to “there,” a place where he might reunite with his son. He walks ever-widening circles, first around his yard, then his house and finally his village. It’s an allegory of grief: You can trace it in different ways, but never escape it.The song cycle’s storytelling is far more opaque: Golijov set the most searing lines with little context. At Zankel, Mary Frank’s projections, like Chagall murals drained of color, guided the audience in concrete, moving ways.Golijov’s score unfolds deliberately, making a bane of patience: Grief will give you as much time as you need, and then it will give you some more. The strings played with broad tone. During “In Procession,” the percussionist Shane Shanahan drummed with unrushed rhythms, as the townspeople trailed up a hillside behind the Walking Man, who had become their Pied Piper of sorrow. In “Walking,” the bassist Shawn Conley plucked out a walking bass line with a dragging gait, and Dan Brantigan’s trumpet moaned like someone who was pushing through exhaustion. The synthesizer, played by Jeremy Flower, whistled an alien-sounding descant high above the other instruments — a portal to another dimension.“Falling” is so closely tied to the strengths of the Silkroad, which commissioned the piece, that it’s hard to imagine the trumpet part without Brantigan’s intense feeling and astonishing control. Or the kamancheh without Kayhan Kalhor’s liquid bowing. Or the pipa without Wu Man’s delicacy.Unfortunately, the same is true of the Walking Man, originally written for the Chinese vocalist Wu Tong’s raw expressivity and range, with notes so high they could make an operatic tenor’s eyes water. Yoni Rechter, a singer and musician with a long career in Israel, took the part at Zankel. He had a comforting, paternal presence, not unlike Tony Bennett, but vocally, he was tentative, imprecise and sometimes inaudible, even after taking melodies down an octave. Biella Da Costa, as the Woman, sang with deep, earth-rattling feeling. Nora Fischer narrated the show knowingly as the half-man, half-desk Centaur.“Falling” unraveled toward the end of the night, with improvisatory blues that stood out awkwardly from the piece’s musical fabric. Fischer’s choice to speak the haunting lullaby that closes the cycle so memorably on its 2020 premiere recording diminished its impact.In Jessica Cohen’s translation of the original Hebrew, Grossman makes a parent’s incomprehensible anguish legible: “It breaks my heart, my son, to think … that I have found the words.” At Zankel, Golijov and the Silkroad found the music — speaking for all of us who have had enough of sorrow.Falling Out of TimePerformed on Friday at Zankel Hall, Manhattan. More

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      Review: Igor Levit Arrives at the New York Philharmonic

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      Levit, one of the world’s eminent pianists, appeared with the orchestra at Carnegie Hall eight years after making his New York debut.Eight years ago, a young pianist made his New York debut with a brazen program of Beethoven’s final sonatas.Baby-faced and wearing a bow tie, Igor Levit, then 27, took the stage at the Park Avenue Armory’s intimate Board of Officers Room and proved that age is no impediment in interpreting some of the wisest and most challenging music in the keyboard repertory. “A major new pianist has arrived,” the critic Anthony Tommasini wrote of that night.Since then, each return engagement has had the air of an important event: Bach’s “Goldberg” Variations with the artist Marina Abramovic at the Armory’s drill hall, recitals with premieres at Carnegie Hall that started in its chamber-size Zankel space before moving to its main auditorium.Levit, who lives in Berlin, hasn’t brought his most madcap programming to the city — his essential, standard-setting take on Ronald Stevenson’s “Passacaglia on DSCH” or his turn in Ferruccio Busoni’s extravagant Piano Concerto — but he has graduated from newcomer to New York fixture.One important debut remained, and it came on Friday: his first appearance with the New York Philharmonic.Now 35, more scruffy than smooth and trading his bow tie for a casual black shirt, he joined the orchestra at Carnegie in Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 1. It was one of those evenings — agonizingly, just one performance — that left you wondering whether the Philharmonic had found an artist to keep on speed dial for future seasons.Holding his own against the orchestra’s characteristic muscularity, Levit offered counterpoint in an expressive touch, an instinctual sense of shape and a gift for navigating the nuances of a piece that keeps one foot in the Classical era and the other in the Romanticism of its time.Like Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 20, also in D minor, the Brahms begins with a long orchestral introduction before the soloist’s softly singing entrance — passion turning into a plea. The Philharmonic, led by Jaap van Zweden, its music director, sounded more aggressive than ardent, and crisp where another ensemble might have been grand.Van Zweden’s reading didn’t necessarily register as problematic until it was brought into relief by Levit’s arrival, which achieved more tension with less force. His solos were similar to sonatas in their intimacy and breadth of expression (a sensibility that reached its height with his encore, a sonorous yet serene “Nun Komm’ der Heiden Heiland,” transcribed by Busoni from Bach). At the keyboard he was capable of conjuring not only thunder, particularly in the climax of the first movement, but also the troubling calm that can precede it and, as in the Adagio, something like the gentle parting of clouds that follows.Where soloist and orchestra most aligned was in the Rondo finale; Levit stated the first theme briskly, precisely, and the Philharmonic responded in kind. More here than elsewhere, van Zweden allowed the score to speak for itself, to build naturally toward its joyous D major coda. The piano part wraps up several measures before the end, but Levit’s skill and stage presence had been well established by then — and the audience reacted, the moment he moved to bow, with a swift standing ovation.The Philharmonic would have its moment, too, after intermission, in Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra. And if this work activates instruments like lights on a switchboard, then there was not a dull bulb on Friday. With brasses clear and heroic; winds eloquent and full of personality; and strings speaking as a single unit, this was an ensemble in excellent form. In the fourth movement “Intermezzo interrotto,” especially, the players found a sensitivity absent in the Brahms: lush in its folk-like melody, animated in the nightmarishly parodic interruption and, in the return of the folk tune, movingly soft, with Dvorakian wistfulness.As he did in Brahms’s Rondo, van Zweden led the Bartok Finale with a restraint that, after simply getting through the virtuosity of the breakneck pace and fugal writing, made way for an organic accumulation toward a lingeringly resonant final chord. It was a glimpse of an approach he doesn’t take often — but that would be welcome, like any appearance by Levit, with the Philharmonic going forward.New York PhilharmonicPerformed on Friday at Carnegie Hall, Manhattan. More

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      A Decade of Drill Rap

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      Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | StitcherIn the early 2010s, a novel sound emerged from Chicago’s rap scene. Drill music was immediate and brash, relentlessly local and yet easily accessible. It became a template that would be borrowed from widely.It has iterated several times in the years since. Lil Durk, one of the Chicago scene’s earliest stars, is having a career peak now with the recent release of his album “7220,” his first to top the Billboard album chart. New York drill, which found an sonic identity with the work of Pop Smoke, who was killed in 2020, is expanding as well, as heard in the music of Fivio Foreign, who on his debut album “B.I.B.L.E.” is seeking to translate the sound for a broader audience.On this week’s Popcast, a conversation about drill’s origins, its many global permutations, its intermittent embrace by the hip-hop mainstream and the directions it may still head in.Guests:Joe Coscarelli, New York Times pop music reporterDavid Drake, longtime chronicler of Chicago hip-hopConnect 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 popcast@nytimes.com. Follow our host, Jon Caramanica, on Twitter: @joncaramanica. More

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      Mickey Gilley, Country Star Whose Club Inspired ‘Urban Cowboy,’ Dies at 86

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      Mr. Gilley, who had more than 30 chart-topping records, owned a Texas nightclub that was behind a country music revival.Mickey Gilley, the hit singer and piano player whose Texas nightclub was the inspiration for the movie “Urban Cowboy” and the glittering country music revival that accompanied it, died on Saturday at a hospital in Branson, Mo. He was 86.His publicist, Zach Farnum, announced the death but did not cite a cause.A honey-toned singer with a warm, unhurried delivery, Mr. Gilley had 17 No. 1 country singles from 1974 to 1983, including “I Overlooked an Orchid” and “Don’t the Girls All Get Prettier at Closing Time.”He placed 34 records in the country Top Ten during his two decades on the charts. But he was ultimately best known as the proprietor, with Sherwood Cryer, of Gilley’s, the honky-tonk in Pasadena, Texas, that became one of the most storied nightspots in country music.Established in 1971 as a local bar catering to 9-to-5ers in and around Pasadena, an oil refinery town near Houston, Gilley’s was large, encompassing 48,000 square feet, with a parquet dance floor that could accommodate up to 5,000 people. Among the hall’s main attractions was its mechanical bull, a repurposed piece of rodeo-training equipment on which the club’s more intrepid patrons vied to see who could ride the longest before being thrown off.Just as striking was the synchronized line dancing of its boot-scooting regulars, attired, as was the fashion, in crisply pressed Wranglers, big, gleaming belt buckles and immaculately cared-for Stetson hats.Extending rodeo iconography beyond the provinces of the American West, Gilley’s shaped dance scenes in cities and suburbs across the nation, especially after an article about the club, “The Ballad of the Urban Cowboy: America’s Search for True Grit,” appeared in Esquire magazine in 1978.Two years later, Paramount Pictures released the feature film “Urban Cowboy,” starring John Travolta and Debra Winger. Much of the film was shot at Gilley’s.“Country Night Fever” was how Mr. Gilley characterized the movie in interviews, alluding to “Saturday Night Fever,” the disco-themed 1977 movie that also starred Mr. Travolta. Nevertheless — even as “Urban Cowboy” helped country music become more popular than disco — Mr. Gilley was quick to add that “Urban Cowboy” cast his establishment in a glossier light than its warehouselike ambience, mud-wrestling contests and reputation as a hotbed for brawling might have warranted.“There wasn’t anything nice about that club,” he said in a 2019 interview with The Santa Fe New Mexican. “I mean, Gilley’s was a joint. But it worked because of what it represented — country music and the cowboy image.”Mr. Gilley, left, performing with his cousin Jerry Lee Lewis at Gilley’s, his nightclub in Pasadena, Texas, in the mid-1970s.Michael Ochs Archives/Getty ImagesGilley’s and the scene that coalesced around it also brought country music newfound crossover success with adult contemporary radio. The soundtrack to “Urban Cowboy,” replete with contributions from rock and pop acts like Boz Scaggs, Bonnie Raitt and the Eagles, was certified platinum three times over for sales of three million copies. It spent eight weeks at No. 1 on the country album chart and climbed as high as No. 3 on Billboard’s Top Pop Albums.This crossover impulse was second nature to Mr. Gilley, who had successfully navigated the country charts in the ’70s with honky-tonk remakes of R&B staples like Lloyd Price’s “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” and Big Joe Turner’s “Chains of Love.” Both were No. 1 country singles for Mr. Gilley, as was his version, from the “Urban Cowboy” soundtrack, of the soul singer Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me.”“Orange Blossom Special/Hoedown,” a recording from the soundtrack credited to Mr. Gilley’s Urban Cowboy Band, won a Grammy for best country instrumental performance in 1981.Well into his 30s before he had his first hit, and over 40 when his nightclub achieved widespread acclaim, Mr. Gilley was something of a late bloomer. This was certainly the case compared with his flamboyant cousin Jerry Lee Lewis, whose meteoric early success had reached its zenith — and flamed out, after his marriage to his adolescent cousin — by the time he turned 22.Another of Mr. Gilley’s piano-playing cousins, the televangelist Jimmy Swaggart, achieved fame (and notoriety, for widely publicized scandals involving prostitutes) more readily than Mr. Gilley did as well.Mickey Leroy Gilley was born on March 9, 1936, in Natchez, Miss., to Irene (Lewis) and Arthur Gilley. Raised in nearby Ferriday, La., he grew up singing gospel harmonies with his cousins Mr. Swaggart and Mr. Lewis, and sneaking into local juke joints with them to hear blues and honky-tonk music.Mr. Gilley’s mother bought him a piano when he was 10, shortly before he came under the boogie-woogie-inspired tutelage of his cousin Jerry. Mr. Gilley would not begin playing professionally, though, until he was in his 20s, several years after he had moved to Houston to work in the construction industry.He released his first single, “Ooh Wee Baby,” in 1957, only to wait 55 years for it to find an audience: It ran in a television commercial for Yoplait yogurt in 2012. His first recording to reach the charts, “Is It Wrong (For Loving You)” (1959), featured the future star Kenny Rogers on bass guitar.Settling in Pasadena in the early ’60s, Mr. Gilley began performing regularly at the Nesadel Club, a rough-and-tumble honky-tonk owned by his future business partner, Mr. Cryer. His recording career, however, did not gain traction until 1974, when Hugh Hefner’s Playboy label rereleased his version of “Room Full of Roses,” which had been a No. 2 pop hit in 1949 for the singer Sammy Kaye. Mr. Gilley’s iteration became a No. 1 country single.Mr. Gilley subsequently enjoyed a decade at or near the top of the country charts. At the height of the Urban Cowboy boom, he had six consecutive No. 1 hits.As the movement that Gilley’s had spawned gave way to the back-to-basics neo-traditionalism of mid-80s country music, Mr. Gilley increasingly turned his attention to his nightclub, where protracted conflict with Mr. Cryer, who died in 2009, had previously caused the men to dissolve their partnership. Mr. Gilley closed the honky-tonk in 1989, a year before a fire destroyed much of the building.He opened the first of two theaters in Branson, Mo., in 1990, and later established night spots in Myrtle Beach, S.C., and in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. No longer a presence on the country charts, he also marketed his own brand of beer and made cameos on prime-time television shows like “The Fall Guy” and “Fantasy Island.”Mr. Gilley suffered a fall while helping friends move a sofa in 2009, an accident that left him temporarily paralyzed. He was unable to play the piano again, but he otherwise recovered and resumed singing in public well into his 80s.Mr. Gilley is survived by his wife, Cindy Loeb Gilley; a daughter, Kathy Gilley; three sons, Michael, Gregory and Keith Ray Gilley; four grandchildren; and nine great-grandchildren. He was married to Vivian McDonald from 1962 until her death in 2019. His first marriage, to Geraldine Garrett, ended in divorce.The mechanical bull was certainly a major draw at Gilley’s, but Mr. Gilley always made it clear that it was not his idea. Mr. Cryer had the it installed, unbeknownst to Mr. Gilley, who at the time was on the road performing.“He went and made a deal with these people with this mechanical contraption who’d used it as a rodeo-training device,” Mr. Gilley said in his interview with The New Mexican, recalling the circumstances that led to the arrival of the mechanical bull at his venue. “It was never meant to be in a nightclub.”Vimal Patel contributed reporting. More