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      ‘The Great Czech Piano Cycle’ Arrives at Carnegie Hall

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      The pianist Leif Ove Andsnes is appearing at Carnegie with Dvorak’s “Poetic Tone Pictures,” a rarity being performed there for the first time.Carnegie Hall might have hosted the premiere of Dvorak’s Ninth Symphony in 1893, but it’s not every day, 130 years later, that a major work by that Czech composer is heard there for the first time.Still less, a solo piano cycle that lasts almost an hour. That’s what the unerringly sophisticated Norwegian pianist Leif Ove Andsnes will offer on Tuesday, in a recital anchored by Dvorak’s “Poetic Tone Pictures,” thirteen character pieces, written in 1889, that Andsnes recently recorded for Sony.Andsnes has known the work since he was a boy; his father had one of its few recordings in his collection. But he came to study it properly only in the time afforded by the pandemic.“Most of my colleagues won’t even know that Dvorak wrote this wonderful cycle for piano,” Andsnes, 52, said in an interview. “There is such a strange reputation around his music because he wasn’t a pianist, and people think that he didn’t write very well for the instrument.”But, Andsnes added: “He uses the piano in a very colorful way, in a very versatile way, every piece has new textures, new techniques. For me, this cycle really stands as the great Czech piano cycle.”In Dvorak’s piano writing, Andsnes said, “the imagination, the richness of melodic and harmonic invention and characterization is so wonderful, and so unique.”Aubrey Trinnaman for The New York TimesTuesday’s concert will be Andsnes’s first solo recital at Carnegie Hall since 2015. Clive Gillinson, the hall’s executive and artistic director, said that the lapse was a matter of bad luck — injury, the pandemic — but also, more tellingly, that it spoke to the breadth of interests that makes Andsnes special.“We’ll say we’d love to have you back, and he’ll come back with an idea of collaborating with others, rather than just doing a piano recital,” Gillinson said. When Andsnes has appeared at the hall, it’s been in Brahms’s Piano Quartets, the Grieg concerto with the Boston Symphony and a “Rite of Spring” as a duo with Marc-André Hamelin.Andsnes’s latest solo recital is a case study in sensitive programming. Czech nationality connects Dvorak to Janacek, whose early 20th-century sonata, “1.X.1905,” commemorates a murdered political protester. That work’s relevance to demonstrations today, particularly over the Russian invasion of Ukraine, prompted Andsnes to surround it with a “Lamento” by Alexander Vustin, a Russian who was little known outside his country and died early in the pandemic, and a bagatelle by Valentin Silvestrov, whose music has come to represent Ukrainian resistance. Beethoven rounds out the program, because, as Andsnes put it, “Beethoven always seems to have a message.”In the interview, Andsnes discussed the “Poetic Tone Pictures” and more of Tuesday’s program. Here are edited excerpts from the conversation.The standard view of Dvorak’s piano music, and especially his concerto, is that it is poorly written because he wasn’t a virtuoso himself. Could we say instead that he wrote pretty well for someone who didn’t play to a high standard?Absolutely. Sometimes when you’re not playing the instrument you might come up with solutions that are new, and unheard-of. I remember Christian Tetzlaff said a few years ago that, you know, who were the composers who wrote the groundbreaking new violin concertos? They were all pianists: Beethoven, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Bartok. Nobody could imagine these shifts and sounds on the violin, and they didn’t know its limitations.I think Dvorak wrote wonderfully for the piano, most of the time. It’s not as comfortably written as Chopin or Schumann or Debussy, but there’s a lot of music like that. The imagination, the richness of melodic and harmonic invention and characterization is so wonderful, and so unique.Dvorak’s “Poetic Tone Pictures” will have its first Carnegie performance at Andsnes’s recital.Aubrey Trinnaman for The New York TimesDid Dvorak intend the pieces to be played as a cycle?I found this quote from him. He wrote to a friend after finishing these pieces that he’s tried to be a poet, à la Schumann, but that it doesn’t sound like Schumann. And then he says, I hope that someone will have the courage to play all the pieces continuously, because only by doing that could one really understand his intentions.That was extremely interesting, because we’re talking about an hour of music here. If he thought about it as a cycle, that’s a very ambitious undertaking, and a much bigger cycle than any that were known at the time. Clara Schumann would always select pieces from her husband’s music, rarely playing “Kreisleriana” as one, or “Carnaval” as one. Sure enough, one gets into a state of mind and it seems to work out well — the contrasts between the pieces, and this wonderful farewell, “On the Holy Mountain,” which is such a benediction. It’s a real journey.Listening to your recording, I wondered whether the music’s fate has not just been about preconceptions about the writing, but the fact that an hourlong cycle is tricky to program.Even the single pieces are not known. I played these pieces in Prague in November, and I met the daughter of Rudolf Firkusny, the great Czech pianist. She said, “Maybe I can remember that my father played the third piece a couple of times as an encore,” but she didn’t know the music. Can you imagine? Firkusny played so much Czech music, and was famous for playing the Piano Concerto.Does the cycle have a narrative to it, or is it more a series of tableaux along the lines of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition”?More like that, maybe a picture of Czech life. What I love about the cycle is, you have very spiritual pieces, the mystery of “The Old Castle” and “Twilight Way,” and on the other hand you have a piece called “Toying.” Another piece is called “Tittle-Tattle.” It’s everyday life, which you also have in “Pictures at an Exhibition,” or even in late Beethoven.Do you have a favorite piece among the 13?I love them all in very different ways, but there is one piece, the ninth, called “Serenade.” It’s such a great example of Dvorak’s real strengths. It begins as such a trivial piece, it has this very simple melody, serenading a loved one, with a guitar accompaniment. There’s almost no harmony in the beginning, and you wonder, is this really it?It isn’t, of course, because he suddenly changes the harmonies and it becomes so much richer. It gets to a middle section which is a sort of slow siciliano, which has a feeling of prayer, or a really beautiful love song, the most tender one can imagine. You just wonder how he went there, with the same melodic material. For me, he has such an ability to develop a very simple idea into a real jewel.Dvorak always suffers a bit in comparison with Brahms, because they were contemporaries and admired each other. Brahms has this obvious counterpoint and resistance in the music, we always feel that every voice is so rich. Dvorak doesn’t have that, and one can feel that the music is a little bit too easy to swallow. It depends on the performer to bring out all these subtleties.Has it become more important for you to reflect the world in your playing?It became quite special with this program. If one can find a relevant conversation with the music that we do and what is going on with the world, it’s wonderful, but I wouldn’t want to always look for something. It can be fabricated.The Janacek was speaking to me about now. Like so many, I felt affected by what’s going on, also being in this part of the world. As Norwegians we are a neighboring country to Russia, it really has affected so many of us everywhere; of course in the United States, too, but maybe even more in this part of the world.And in grim times, we often turn to Beethoven.Yes, so often there is a feeling of going through struggle, or fight in Beethoven’s music, trying to find solutions, or answers, or victory — somehow.If the “Poetic Tone Pictures” are a cycle, Andsnes said, “that’s a very ambitious undertaking, and a much bigger cycle than any that were known at the time.”Aubrey Trinnaman for The New York Times More

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      Yuja Wang, Daredevil Pianist, Takes on a Musical Everest

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      Known for dazzling virtuosity, Wang faces a new challenge in a three-and-a-half-hour Rachmaninoff marathon at Carnegie Hall.PHILADELPHIA — The star pianist Yuja Wang, fresh out of rehearsal on Tuesday with the Philadelphia Orchestra, threw her arms into the air and let out a nervous laugh.“We survived,” she said inside a dressing room stocked with dark chocolate, granola bars, a bear-shaped bottle of honey and a bag of lemons.Wang, 35, was a few days from one of the most herculean concerts of her career: a three-and-a-half-hour marathon of Rachmaninoff’s four piano concertos and “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini” at Carnegie Hall on Saturday, a virtually unheard-of undertaking. She was excited but also a bit anxious as she imagined what was coming — the rushed rehearsals, the mammoth program and playing before an audience that will include some of her closest friends and mentors.“I have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” she said. “I’m also having the same feeling as everyone else: Let’s see where this kamikaze run is going to go. I can’t even control it, so I’m just going to go with the flow.”Wang has made a career out of dazzling displays of virtuosity, including in the works she will perform this weekend. But taking on these Rachmaninoff pieces together — more than 400 pages of music, including some of the most vexing piano passages in the repertory — poses a new test.To prepare, Wang has reined in aspects of her famously flamboyant lifestyle, cutting back on drinking and partying so she can get eight hours of sleep a night. She has largely avoided intense solo practice in recent days, spending an hour or two a day on lighter fare like Johann Strauss waltzes. And she has tried to inhabit Rachmaninoff’s world, setting aside time to reflect on the love, loneliness and hope in his art.“All of it is imbued in his language,” she said. “You just play his music, and it just comes out.”Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the Philadelphia Orchestra’s music director, who is leading the Carnegie concert, likened the effort to climbing Mount Everest. (Olympic-style medals, emblazoned with grand pianos, will be handed out to Wang, Nézet-Séguin and the players at the conclusion of Saturday’s marathon.)“It’s insane for everyone,” he said. “It’s possible only when people know each other so well. And that’s the case between Yuja and me and this orchestra.”“I have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” Wang said of her Rachmaninoff marathon. “I’m also having the same feeling as everyone else: Let’s see where this kamikaze run is going to go.”Jingyu Lin for The New York TimesNézet-Séguin recalled thinking, “OK, that’s exactly the person made for that music” when Wang performed Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto with the orchestra in 2013, one of their early collaborations. He described her as the “ideal Rachmaninoff pianist,” saying she had honed a powerful yet airy style.“With her there is never, never, ever a hint of a harsh or hard sound,” he said. “It’s always beautiful, it’s always phrased, it’s always very free.” (Nézet-Séguin will also conduct the Philadelphia Orchestra in a series of Rachmaninoff performances with Wang at the ensemble’s home to celebrate the composer’s 150th birthday.)Wang, who was born in China, has long felt a connection to Rachmaninoff’s music. As a child, she was drawn to the lyricism of his preludes for piano, even as she followed a strict conservatory regimen of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven.It was not until she enrolled at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia, at 15, that she began intensely studying Rachmaninoff’s works, including his piano concertos and the “Rhapsody.” She was drawn to the “noble and pure” sound of the composer’s own recordings, she said, and to the vulnerability of his music.“It’s like reading Russian literature,” she said. “It’s really enjoyable, even though it’s long, because it’s very loquacious.”The pianist and educator Gary Graffman, who taught Wang at Curtis, said it was quickly apparent that she intuitively understood the composer’s style. Her technical mastery of the pieces, which demand breakneck finger work and stunts like keyboard-sweeping glissandos, was exceptional, he said. But it was the sensitivity of her interpretations that awed him.“She ate it up,” he said. “She’s undaunted by everything.”After her graduation from Curtis, in 2008, she quickly became one of classical music’s most in-demand stars. She earned praise from critics for her fiery interpretations of works by Russians like Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev. And she was celebrated by audiences for her virtuoso takes on well-known pieces, including the Rondo alla Turca from Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 11.She also attracted attention for her vivid sartorial choices, performing war horses in skintight dresses and Jimmy Choo heels. And her love of encores captivated the public; at a recital in London last year, she performed 10. (A video of one favorite, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee,” has garnered more than 8.3 million views on YouTube.)During the early days of the pandemic, Wang took a break from piano, spending time watching Netflix, taking walks in Central Park and learning to master household tasks that she, as a prodigy, had long neglected, like cooking and laundry.But she returned to the stage in May 2021 with Rachmaninoff, performing his Piano Concerto No. 2 in London with the conductor Michael Tilson Thomas, a longtime friend and mentor.“Imagine,” she said of the experience, “that was like, ‘Oh, OK, I see the power of music!’”As cultural life sprang back, Wang began thinking about new challenges. She was eager to create an experience that would test the attention span of audiences in the TikTok era. She recalled listening to Wagner’s “Ring” as a student at Curtis for hours on end and walking away with new admiration for “a past human being’s work and their effort and what they’re trying to express.”Saturday’s concert, she said, is “going to be a stamina test for the audience as well.”The Rachmaninoff marathon also had a virtuosic appeal for Wang, an inveterate thrill-seeker who has learned to Jet Ski and dabbled in cryotherapy. She said that performing the works in one go gave her “lots of ego”: “It’s like, Yes, I can play them!” She added that she would like to perform the program again, perhaps in Los Angeles or China. (She recently spread out the concertos over multiple programs with the Orlando Philharmonic, and will do the same, adding the “Rhapsody,” with the Los Angeles Philharmonic in February.)Thomas said that Wang sometimes asked composer friends to revise piano works written for her — including ones by him — so that they were more demanding. He likened her to a racehorse.“She wants to run; she wants to show everything she can do,” he said. “And at the same time, she’s a very, very respectful and curious musical intelligence.”No artist has ever played all five of these Rachmaninoff works in a single concert at Carnegie, which is marketing the performance as a “once-in-a-lifetime” experience. Rachmaninoff, who long admired the Philadelphia Orchestra, performed the first three of his piano concertos with the ensemble under Eugene Ormandy there in 1939. Vladimir Ashkenazy played all four concertos on four consecutive nights with the London Symphony Orchestra and the conductor Daniel Barenboim at the hall in 1968.Clive Gillinson, Carnegie’s executive and artistic director, said few artists had the stamina, focus, intensity and emotional engagement to pull off such a feat.“There have been occasions when artists do marathons and you feel it’s about showing off,” he said. “This 100 percent is not. That is not who Yuja is.”During rehearsals this week in Philadelphia, Wang seemed confident even as she fretted about the difficulty of sounding fresh in pieces that are well known. She said that at the height of her mastery of a piece, the music emerges so naturally that she feels as if she had composed it.And she reminisced about the energy she had in her 20s, when she said she could stay out late drinking and still perform at 11 the next morning. But now, she added, she feels a more profound connection with the music, especially since last year, when she began dating the conductor Klaus Mäkelä. (She recently took him to meet Graffman, her teacher, who offered his approval.)“When the love part is going well,” she said, “this music has a deeper meaning than just a release of emotions.”As Nézet-Séguin worked to lighten the sound of the orchestra in the “Rhapsody” to match Wang’s tone, she flipped through the score on an iPad and ran her fingers silently over the keys, practicing thorny passages.At the end of the rehearsal, he stopped to speak with her.“You’re my hero,” Nézet-Séguin said, embracing her. Wang smiled and laughed, and then turned back to the score. More

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      Review: A Young Pianist Finds His Way to Carnegie Hall

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      Mao Fujita’s playing had a prettiness all its own, but he didn’t connect profoundly with all the composers on his largely safe program.The 24-year-old pianist Mao Fujita made his Carnegie Hall debut on Wednesday, shuffling onto the stage of Stern Auditorium, his demeanor unassuming and his back slightly hunched. When his fingers touched the keys, though, waves of airy filigree, beautifully formed and finished, emerged in almost uninterrupted streams for his two-hour solo recital.Having released a recording of Mozart’s complete piano sonatas in the fall, Fujita began his recital with two pieces by that composer. Fujita’s genteel statement of the theme in the Nine Variations on a Minuet by J.P. Duport gave over quickly to rippling runs that would have felt too fast if not for his pearly tone. That exuberance carried over into Mozart’s Sonata in D Major, K. 311, and even at such speed, the music had buoyancy, like a kite held aloft in a breeze.Fujita’s playing, gossamer without sacrificing the sturdy consonance of Mozart’s style, has a prettiness all its own. He plays through the ends of phrases, bringing them to a fine point with exquisitely shaped diminuendos, and maintains a clear yet shimmery tone.Comparing the sonata with Fujita’s recorded version, I missed the cleanly delineated treatment of Mozart’s contrapuntal writing, which Fujita approached on the album with Bach-like clarity and independence of line. At Carnegie, Fujita’s left-hand parts sometimes sounded smeared — perhaps because their subtlety didn’t read in the hall — and there was a presentational quality to his playing, as though he were offering it to the public for judgment.At times, Fujita didn’t connect profoundly with the composers on this largely safe program. Even in the most stylistically attuned hands, Liszt’s Ballade No. 2 in B Minor risks coming across as overwrought, and Fujita’s traversals of the keyboard sounded superficial rather than splashy. In Brahms’s Theme and Variations in D Minor, dedicated to Clara Schumann, for whom he pined, Fujita gestured at the piece’s muscularity by firmly articulating its chords, but the performance lacked depth of sound — and the sense of a body leaning into the keyboard to unburden an emotional weight. Still, placid passages in both pieces glinted.Fujita didn’t linger over the harmonies of Clara Schumann’s Three Romances, Op. 21, instead using them to propel himself forward, and something clicked in the last movement, a glimmering Agitato that he colored in shades of twilight. After laying down the final G minor chord with touching delicacy, he immediately jumped into a piece in the same key, Robert Schumann’s Second Piano Sonata.Playing at furious speed, angsty and furtive, the melody peeking in and out view, Fujita seemed transformed. Where some pianists use the right-hand octaves to crown the motion of the first movement, Fujita dispatched them efficiently, as if they too were caught in the swirl of Schumann’s wildness. The audience clapped excitedly after the movement, either inspired by its feeling or thinking they were applauding the end of Clara’s Romances.In his criticism and music, Schumann sometimes wrote in the style of two distinct personalities that he named Florestan and Eusebius, and Fujita handled the pendulum swings between them — spiraling tempestuousness on the one hand, starry serenity on the other — with purposefulness and direction in the final movement.The pieces by the Schumanns would have been the recital’s highlight were it not for Fujita’s first encore, the opening Allegro from Mozart’s infectious “Sonata Facile.” Here, Fujita outdid his recording of this music and also the Mozart earlier in the program, trading the piece’s usual extroversion for beguiling interiority, with cheeky ornaments of his own devising and an approach to melody that, admittedly, might have been too free. The uniformly pretty tone was still there — but there was also the confidence of an artist who was sharing not only some music but something of himself with his audience. More

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      He Quit Singing Because of Body Shaming. Now He’s Making a Comeback.

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      The tenor Limmie Pulliam, who made his debut at Carnegie Hall on Friday, hopes to break barriers for larger artists.As a rising young tenor in the 1990s, Limmie Pulliam dreamed of a career that would take him to the world’s top stages. But Pulliam, who has struggled with excessive weight for much of his life, quit singing in his early 20s because of concerns about body shaming in the music industry, finding work instead as a debt collector and a security guard.Now, after spending much of the past decade rebuilding his voice and career, Pulliam, 47, is finally realizing his dream. He made his debut at Carnegie Hall on Friday with the Oberlin Orchestra, singing the title role in R. Nathaniel Dett’s “The Ordering of Moses.” And last month, he made his Metropolitan Opera debut in the role of Radamès in Verdi’s “Aida,” filling in for a tenor who had canceled his appearance — making Pulliam the first Black singer to perform that role in the Met’s history.His solemn performance received a warm ovation at Carnegie.“To hear Limmie succeed in this moment so beautifully, and at this point in his life, was personally satisfying for me,” said Timothy LeFebvre, the chair of the voice department at Oberlin. “We always cheer on our colleagues when they reach these notable achievements, but even more so when it is so hard fought.”In an interview, Pulliam reflected on his 12-year break from singing and the challenges facing larger artists, who once were common in the industry but have faced pressure in recent years to slim down. He also talked about how a chance to perform the national anthem while working as a field organizer in Missouri for Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign allowed him to rediscover his voice. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.After you attended the Oberlin Conservatory of Music in Ohio, you seemed destined for a career in opera. Then you quit. What happened?There was a lot of pressure on artists in terms of appearance. The industry cared about things that really had nothing to do with the voice, but with physicality, and that made it difficult for singers of size. It made it easy for me to walk away. I made myself a promise that if it ever stopped being fun, I would do something else. And so I did.What was it like at the time for singers struggling with concerns about their weight?People within the industry were able to make comments regarding someone’s physical look with impunity. In other industries, that would not be accepted, but it was almost widely accepted within the classical music world. It felt like it was OK to make fun of people of size and that we weren’t worthy of careers. It was a very difficult time, and it’s still a very difficult time.What would people say to you?I’ve had general directors send me email messages complimenting me on my voice and then saying, “Well, when you lose 50 pounds, get in touch with me again, and I’ll give you a live audition.”How did it feel to hear those comments?I began to look at rejection in a different way. I used to get a bit down when I received a note like that or just a flat-out refusal about an audition. But I began to use that as fuel to make me want to work even harder — to be an even better vocalist. I thought, “They may not want me right now, but they will need me at some point.”During your break from classical music, you worked a variety of jobs, eventually starting your own security firm. Did you sing at all, even for your own pleasure — at home, in the shower, at church?Not really. I was deliberately making the decision not to sing. I just didn’t have the desire. I wasn’t singing that much in church, and I rarely listened to the radio in the car. There wasn’t much going on musically for me during that time. I was just concentrating on this new life that I was trying to build and trying to move forward.And then, in 2007, when you were 31 and working as a field organizer for the Obama campaign in Missouri, your home state, you got an unexpected chance to perform the national anthem.We had invited someone to sing the national anthem. And they got cold feet at the last minute and decided they didn’t want to do it. And it happened to be an event that I had invited my boss to attend. And he immediately said, “I remember seeing on your résumé that you used to be an opera singer. Why don’t you sing it?” And I said, “Well, you know, I haven’t sung for a number of years. And the national anthem is not an easy song to sing. I’m not sure I can pull it off.” It was terrifying; it was not something I had practiced or prepared. I did not know what was going to come out.But he convinced me to do it. And I sang at the event and ended up singing at several other events. And in doing so, I noticed some very interesting changes in my voice. It had taken on a more mature, burnished quality. And it had grown substantially in size. And it really piqued my interest as to the type of repertoire I could possibly sing with this new instrument.Your returned to the stage five years later, when you were 36, at the National Opera Association’s vocal competition. How did you prepare?I pulled out my old lesson tapes from the conservatory and began working with those lesson tapes and polishing things, just out of interest to see what the voice could do. And I eventually reached out to a voice teacher in Memphis, Tenn., and began working with her. We realized that we had something that was special — that there wasn’t anyone like me as an artist out there. We were working to rekindle the voice. That’s when I found the joy again in singing.Was it easy to get back into the business?It took a good three years or so before that first staged operatic engagement came, and it came because I was posting clips of my singing on YouTube and other platforms and just sharing wherever I could, and reaching out to friends who were still in the industry and letting them know I was back and basically trying to sing for anyone who would hear me.A friend saw a clip of me singing “Ch’ella mi creda libero e lontano” from Puccini’s “La Fanciulla del West” with my former high school choir director playing the piano. She shared it with her husband, who happened to be the music director of a small opera company in the Seattle area. They invited me to to sing the role of Canio in “Pagliacci.”You were the first Black singer to perform the role of Radamès at the Met. Do you feel that classical music is doing enough to address racial and ethnic disparities?As a Black man, I’m usually the only one who looks like me in a rehearsal setting. So there always is a sense of isolation, of not fitting in. You have to learn to work through that and do your job to the best of your ability.We always seem to have had celebrated Black female voices in the industry, like Jessye Norman, Kathleen Battle, Grace Bumbry and Shirley Verrett. But the list of Black men has always been quite short. There are some in the industry who have difficulty in seeing Black males in romantic leads. We’ve made progress, and we just have to keep pushing forward and breaking down some of these walls.How did it feel to make your debut at Carnegie Hall?It was very difficult for me to enjoy it fully. It has been a challenging year for me personally. On May 8, my father passed away. And the following week, after the funeral, I left to get on a plane to prepare for my debut with the Cleveland Orchestra singing the role of Otello. I arrived in New York on Nov. 10 to begin my cover contract with the Met for “Aida.” On Nov. 14, my eldest sister passed away.It has been an emotional roller coaster for me. One never knows how grief will manifest itself. And grief is a very sneaky thing. And it pops up on you at very odd times, and you never know what’s going to trigger it. I was able to make it through because of the strength of my faith and knowing that my loved ones were in complete support of me and my career and would have wanted me to be where I was.What did your family say to you after the performance?My mother walked up to me and gave me a hug and a kiss and said: “God bless you. I’m extremely proud of you.” My oldest brother, whenever I go to perform, he always reminds me to make the family proud. And his response on Friday night was, “That’s how you make us proud.” More

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      Review: Carnegie Hall Makes an Intimate Space More Intimate

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      Zankel Hall has been temporarily reconfigured so that audiences can sit in the round, beginning with an enjoyable performance by the group yMusic.New York’s classical music powerhouses would like to get closer to you.Mere months after the New York Philharmonic’s stage at David Geffen Hall was shifted 25 feet out into the audience, with seating added behind the orchestra, as part of a gut renovation, Carnegie Hall has followed suit. If more economically: It has reconfigured its second stage, the subterranean Zankel Hall, and rearranged it so that audiences can sit in the round.To make that happen inside such a steeply raked space, Carnegie has raised the Zankel stage. This has reduced distances for everyone: the critics in prime seats, and the bargain-hunting customers in the balconies. It’s all part of initiative that Carnegie is calling “Center Stage,” with programming, from Thursday night through Jan. 27, designed to take advantage of the enhanced proximity.The Thursday concert, a richly enjoyable performance by the group yMusic, could be seen as a validation of Zankel’s temporary change. And yet what was best about the evening was more along the lines of business as usual for the hall. This vivacious and canny sextet — an idiosyncratic combination of cello, violin, viola, clarinet, a trumpeter who doubles on horn and a flutist-vocalist — debuted two Carnegie co-commissions: the world premiere of Allison Loggins-Hull’s nine-minute “Supply,” and the American unveiling of Andrew Norman’s 24-minute “Difference.”Helping to fund new work from younger American composers is part of what Carnegie’s Zankel wing does well. And that part of the machine is humming along just fine.In “Supply” — inspired by a tale of extramarital office romance — Loggins-Hull makes stirring use of the multiple talents of the flutist-vocalist Alex Sopp (who was lightly but effectively amplified). There was seductiveness in her singing of lines like “Tell me your dreams and I’ll show you the way.” More fragmentary bits of text (“Can I get a pass?” and “I want what I can’t have”) were more aggressive. The work moves between these emotional poles with smart instrumental writing, including some ferocious yet melodically supple passages in rhythmic unison.Norman’s “Difference” was likewise a showcase for yMusic’s abilities in both precision and abandon within the same piece. As in some of his recent orchestral works, Norman here alternates between hushed stasis and manic volleys of virtuosic eruption. In those extremes, CJ Camerieri’s muted trumpet brought a quizzical, mellow edge to some moments, while Nadia Sirota’s sinewy viola (and headbanging stage presence) took the lead in nervier ensemble episodes.The performance by yMusic validated the idea of a concert in the round, but was perhaps more notable for its premieres.Vincent Tullo for The New York TimesNorman’s score, as is often the case, was exquisitely paced. Ideas don’t overstay their welcome, but even when that threatens to become the case, he tends to pile on fresh material just in time (and long past the point where another composer might stop). As the patterns deepen and the lengths of phrases extend, to the point of beggaring belief, Norman’s music makes you want to cheer for him — as well as for the artists who bring it to life.Both of those pieces would probably have come across just fine in Zankel’s regular configuration. The real barrier to intimacy with audiences might not be the space’s design, but the fact that music like this most often comes to town for a single night, then disappears.What if audiences were allowed to find this music over the course of a week, or even a full month, like they can with orchestral and operatic programming? What if yMusic had a residency that featured the newly commissioned works multiple times? They certainly wouldn’t have trouble filling out additional programs; the rest of Thursday’s concert featured yet more novelty in a half-hour of miniatures composed by the group’s members. (That happened thanks to some encouragement from Paul Simon, one of the pop musicians who have collaborated with yMusic in the past.)As yMusic wrote in program notes for the concert, original group composition is expected in pop but unusual in classical music. Some of the results in the nine-section suite were tentative — not quite songs, even with Sopp’s vocalizations. But there was also promise, such as the dense chords and almost-bluesy trumpet writing of “Sober Miles” and the occasionally Minimalist-influenced miniatures like “Zebras” and “Three Elephants.”A recording of all this music is unlikely to be released within the year. I know I’d like to revisit the Loggins-Hull and Norman pieces much earlier. And the same goes for seeing yMusic’s creativity and ensemble spirit again — no matter how the Zankel stage is situated.yMusicPerformed on Thursday at Zankel Hall, Manhattan. More

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      Claire Chase Uses Her New Platform to Showcase a Hero

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      When the composer and performer Pauline Oliveros died in 2016, at 84, her reputation in music was secure.Her early electronic and tape-music pieces from the 1960s and ’70s are widely seen as key contributions to post-World War II American experimentalism. Oliveros’s solo shows, on a tricked-out digital accordion, were destination concerts at New York spaces like the Stone well into the 2010s. And the influence of her writing on the topic of “deep listening” had taken root in the academy.Yet at the time of her death, Oliveros had never received a formal showcase of her work at Carnegie Hall. So when the flutist Claire Chase began planning the first shows of her residency there, in her role as this season’s Debs Creative Chair, a corrective move seemed both obvious and overdue.On Saturday, Chase will present a program called “Pauline Oliveros at 90,” followed by two “Day of Listening” events the next morning and afternoon. “I really wanted,” Chase said, “to give the megaphone to the woman who made possible the lives in music that we have.”Oliveros with her digital accordion at Issue Project Room in 2013.Richard Termine for The New York TimesShe was talking about the wide network of players who have drawn inspiration from Oliveros’s example — but also the specific nucleus of artists she described as the composer’s “musical offspring.” They will share the stage at the Saturday concert, a program of two Oliveros text scores: “The Witness” and “The Tuning Meditation.”At a rehearsal of “The Witness” on Wednesday, Chase and her cohort created spellbinding effects while navigating the three “strategies” that Oliveros’s score outlines. In the first section, performers are asked to play only what comes from their own imaginations, without respect to what else is heard in the room; Chase described it as “the opposite of a feel-good meditation.”In the second strategy, they are instructed to interact as spontaneously as possible with one another. Then the highly idealistic third strategy asks musicians to perform “inside of the time, exactly with the time, or outside the time” of a partner’s playing. Chase said that when she once asked Oliveros what that meant, she was told that it was merely an invitation to be telepathic. “She was dead serious,” Chase recalled, “with a smile on her face.”On Sunday, audience members will be able to join the conceptual jamboree using their voices, slide whistles and the Adaptive Use Musical Instrument technology that Oliveros pioneered with an eye to helping children with a limited range of movement produce music.The artist Ione — Oliveros’s widow and longtime collaborator — said that while the technology was designed for children with “the least availability of movement,” it is also “wonderful for anybody.” That crossover application is, to Ione, part of Oliveros’s legacy: “Bringing people together for sound and music and play and fun. Pauline was as playful and fun as she was serious.”In interviews, four musicians featured in this weekend’s concerts offered their memories of Oliveros and her music. Here are edited excerpts from the conversations.Musicians who were in Oliveros’s orbit gathered this week to rehearse for Chase’s concert on Saturday.Hilary Swift for The New York TimesClaire Chase, flutistI did meet Pauline when I was a toddler. I have these beautiful memories of her playing her accordion — often barefoot — at concerts at the University of California, San Diego, where my parents would drag me because they couldn’t find child care. She was freer and more unfettered in her skin than anyone I’d ever met.It wasn’t until the late 1990s when I reconnected with her, when she was a visiting artist at Oberlin, where I was an undergrad. We were all on a treadmill toward what we thought would be careers in symphony orchestras. She asked — I have to do it in her Texan drawl — “Can you hear beyond the edges of your own imagination?” It wasn’t just like the ceiling opened up for me. It was like the walls dissolved completely. I found myself totally exhilarated and terrified, and suddenly wondering what else I wasn’t learning in conservatory.Susie Ibarra, composer and percussionistThere’s quite an array of Pauline’s music, between the stuff that she did later, for large ensembles, and earlier recordings that were solo. And then her text scores. There are many points of entry. I just love them all for different reasons.I’m very sentimental about coming to celebrate her at Carnegie Hall, as the first time I played there, it was to play her piece “All Fours for the Drum Bum.” It’s a practice in non-repetitive rhythm and texture. She was always somebody who was a great inspiration, and a mentor who offered such support. We did go into the studio and record duets, but we never released it. I was busy, sure, but she was extraordinarily busy toward the end. I think it’s probably at the right moment to release now.I was so fortunate to play a lot with Pauline as an improviser — and we had a quintet called New Circle Five, which recorded one album, “Dreaming Wide Awake.” She was so playful. Especially when she had her digital accordion; you never knew which “instrument” was going to come out. It was a constant surprise.Alex Peh, pianistMy entrance into contemporary music was a really social one. I’m a professor of piano. But I’m dear friends with Phyllis Chen — and when we did her residency at SUNY New Paltz, Pauline came down. We got the students all jazzed up on her “Sonic Meditations.” That’s when I started doing a lot of contemporary music.I played with Claire on Susie’s album “Talking Gong.” We did the online release, then we had some extra time. We were at a barn upstate, and Claire was just like, “Let’s jam.” So we read “The Witness,” and it all started there. After that, we started improvising in the woods, at the Mill Brook Preserve. We did it in caves, just looking for inspirations. This was in the pandemic; we were all sort of frayed and flustered. And now it’s spun into this.Since that time, I’ve explored piano styles throughout the world. I’ve been doing a lot of work with piano traditions in Myanmar. I’m doing a lot of work with Persian piano. Playing “The Witness” catalyzed this. Before that, I was just playing standard repertoire. I met Pauline, and it kind of unlocked curiosity. She gives permission to explore.Tyshawn Sorey, composer and percussionistMy piece “Bertha’s Lair” was commissioned by Claire for her Density 2036 project. And the day we were scheduled to rehearse that piece — and the day it was completed — I went over to the studio where we were going to rehearse it. Within five minutes of arriving there, we found out the news that Pauline had passed. So we hugged for long time; we didn’t even play. We just talked about Pauline the entire evening.It came out in the interpretation of the music, when we finally rehearsed the piece and played it dozens of times. It was different every time. Yet the spirit of Pauline would always remain over us, the way we both continued to take chances.In terms of Pauline’s sprit: It’s about this openness and trust. This way of becoming through making music and being present at all times. No matter what a particular score of hers would say, it certainly demands a different kind of consciousness on the part of the performer to be able to execute. It would put the performer in a place where they’ve probably never been before. More

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      Review: The Unaffected Excellence of the Cleveland Orchestra

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      One of the finest American ensembles returned to Carnegie Hall with a program that made its argument persuasively, but without force.Classical music is an art form that can’t help having one foot in the past and an eye on its family tree. You hear about piano teachers who can trace their techniques back to Beethoven, or composers who realize only after the fact that Debussy has crept into their writing. Lineage is crucial; influence, inevitable.It’s an observation that was made with gentle persuasiveness by the Cleveland Orchestra and Franz Welser-Möst, its longtime music director, at Carnegie Hall on Wednesday. With the casual excellence that has made this ensemble, at least on a technical level, the finest in the United States, they assembled movements from Berg’s “Lyric Suite” and Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony into a five-section study in juxtapositions.Versions of this have been done; the conductor Raphaël Pichon and his group, Pygmalion, broke up the “Unfinished” and surrounded it with a sweeping Romantic collage on last year’s album “Mein Traum” — a nod to Schubert’s biography, and to the cultural world in which this work was created. But the musical connections on Wednesday were fewer, and more focused.Neither the Berg nor the Schubert is whole. The orchestrated form of the “Lyric Suite,” originally for string quartet, contains three of its six sections, and the “Unfinished” was never completed beyond the first two movements. Both products of Vienna, more than a century apart, they nevertheless share a quiet intensity, as well as expressiveness shaded by longing and melancholy. As tends to be the case with pairings like this, Schubert comes out sounding more innovative; and Berg, who here doesn’t write with a wholesale use of dodecaphonic style, more reverential.In its version for string orchestra — and particularly with five rows of violins on Wednesday — the Berg has an operatic edge, but under the baton of Welser-Möst, an often measured technician, the opening Andante amoroso was smartly balanced rather than exploited for dramatic effect. He continued into the first movement of the Schubert without pause, carrying the previous work’s subtle momentum through the symphony’s flowing melodies and the soft syncopations of its not-quite-waltzing second subject. Heard so closely with the “Lyric Suite,” the development stood out for its flashes of the future: harmonic language that would flourish at the height of Romanticism.It wasn’t so jarring, then, to return to the Berg — its whispering Allegro misterioso here like a distant and distorted memory emerging into consciousness, its quietness befitting the second movement of the Schubert, which ended with a halo of serenity. But Berg had the last word with his Allegro appassionato, seeming to make explicit the pervasive yearning of Schubert and take its Romantic sentiment to a breaking point. Like the symphony, however, it ended in sustained stillness.The program featured a rarity in Schubert’s Mass in E flat, performed with five vocal soloists and members of the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus.Chris LeeFor the concert’s second half — Schubert’s Mass in E flat, a wellspring of beauty that is bafflingly underperformed in the United States — the stage was drastically more populated with the addition of five vocal soloists and members of the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, an all-volunteer ensemble that behaves like an entirely professional one. Yet, in a miracle characteristic of the Clevelanders, this work had the sense of awe baked into its scale but the clarity of chamber music: the Latin text intelligible despite face coverings throughout the choir, the melodic line traveling with ease among the instruments.It’s not until the “Et incarnatus est” section of the Credo that the soloists enter (with a songlike theme of delicate longing that all but prefigures the aria “Nuit d’ivresse” from Berlioz’s “Les Troyens”). These roles, rarely employed throughout the Mass, were luxuriously cast: the tenors Julian Prégardien and Martin Mitterrutzner, the soprano Joélle Harvey, the mezzo-soprano Daryl Freedman and the bass-baritone Dashon Burton. But they were also artfully indistinct, behaving with a unified vision that gave way to egoless balance.The piece was not without its grandeur. Wednesday’s Sanctus was one of divine wonderment; the Agnus Dei resonated from the lower strings with the richness of an organ. But the “dona nobis pacem” of the final bars, begun at a fortissimo, quickly calmed to a glowing piano. The concert, as much as it was a web of connections, also made the argument that music doesn’t need a showy climax to win over an audience. And neither does this orchestra.Cleveland OrchestraPerformed on Wednesday at Carnegie Hall, Manhattan. More

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      Onstage, It’s Finally Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas Again

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      The Rockettes are high-kicking their way through the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall. The Sugarplum Fairy, after an unsought interregnum, is presiding over the Land of Sweets at the New York City Ballet. All around the country, choirs are singing hallelujahs in Handel’s “Messiah” and Scrooges are learning to replace bahs with blessings.After two years of Christmastime washouts — there was 2020, when live performance was still impossible in many places, and then last winter, when the Omicron wave stopped many productions — arts-lovers and arts institutions say that they are determined that this will be their first fully staged holiday in three years.“It feels absolutely like the first Christmas post-Covid — there are more tourists in town, Times Square feels very alive again, people are venturing out in a way that I haven’t witnessed since 2019, and sales are more robust across the board,” said Eva Price, a Broadway producer whose musical last year, “Jagged Little Pill,” permanently closed as Omicron bore down, but whose new musical, “& Juliet,” is thriving as this year’s holidays near.Performances of holiday fare, including “The Nutcracker,” Handel’s “Messiah” and, here, “A Christmas Carol,” have become treasured rituals for many families.Cooper Neill for The New York TimesFor arts lovers and arts presenters, late December looms large. Performances of “The Nutcracker,” “A Christmas Carol” and “Messiah” are cherished holiday traditions for many families. Those events are also vital sources of revenue for the organizations that present them. And on Broadway, year-end is when houses are fullest and grosses are highest.“‘A Christmas Carol’ is the lifeblood of our institution,” said Kevin Moriarty, the artistic director of Dallas Theater Center, which first staged an adaptation of the Dickens classic in 1969, and had been doing so annually since 1979 until the pandemic. Most seasons, the play is the theater’s top seller.Last year, Moriarty’s effort to bring the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future back onstage — still with mask and vaccine requirements for the audience — faltered when Omicron hit, and the final 11 days of the run were canceled. “It just felt like the knockout blow we hadn’t seen coming — it felt like things will never get back to normal,” Moriarty said.Handel’s “Messiah” was back at Trinity Church Wall Street in Manhattan. Calla Kessler for The New York TimesDallas was one of many arts institutions wounded by Omicron. The Center Theater Group of Los Angeles canceled 22 of 40 scheduled performances of “A Christmas Carol,” losing about $1.5 million. On Broadway, grosses dropped 57 percent from Thanksgiving week to Christmas week, when 128 performances were canceled. Radio City Music Hall ended its run of the “Christmas Spectacular” with the Rockettes more than a week before Christmas. And the New York City Ballet canceled 17 of 47 scheduled performances of “George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker,” costing it about $5 million.“The virus just made it impossible to go on,” said Katherine E. Brown, the executive director of the New York City Ballet, where “The Nutcracker” has been a tradition since 1954. “It was more than a little depressing, and there were lots of disappointed people, onstage and off.”This year: so far, so good. “It’s going really well,” Brown said. “I don’t want to tempt the fates by saying that too loudly, but it’s actually back to prepandemic levels, and even slightly higher. It feels like we’re really back, and the energy in the houses is just phenomenal.”Of course there are still viruses in the air this year: public health officials are warning of a “tripledemic” of the coronavirus, influenza and respiratory syncytial virus, known as R.S.V. Covid cases and hospitalizations have risen nationally since Thanksgiving, and New York’s mayor, Eric Adams, donned a face mask on Tuesday as he urged New Yorkers to take precautions. One new Broadway play, “The Collaboration,” had to cancel several performances this week, including its opening night, after someone in the company tested positive for the coronavirus.But with Christmas just days away, there have yet to be the wholesale closings that marred last year. And now most people over six months old can be vaccinated, and there is a new bivalent vaccine, lowering both risk and anxiety.“We learned a lot from last year: there are more understudies in place, there is more crew coverage, and we have contingency plans that feel more spelled out,” Price said. Brown agreed, saying, “Through the school of hard knocks, we’re better at managing through it.”“George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker” is being staged once again by New York City Ballet, which had to cut its run short last winter because of Omicron. Sterling Hyltin danced the Sugarplum Fairy in a performance last month. Erin BaianoThe upheaval last winter upended many holiday plans.Mike Rhone, a quality assurance engineer in Santa Clara, Calif., had tickets to the Broadway musicals “Hadestown,” “Flying Over Sunset” and “Caroline, or Change,” and planned to propose to his partner in front of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.Instead he proposed at home, on the couch. But they’ll try again this year, with tickets to “Kimberly Akimbo,” “Ohio State Murders,” “Merrily We Roll Along” and the Rockettes. “We’ll definitely get that photo in front of the Rockefeller Center tree,” Rhone said, “just as married people instead of newly-engaged.”Shannon Buster, a civil engineer from Kansas City, Mo., had tickets last year to several Broadway shows and a set of hard-to-score restaurant reservations. “The night before we left, we watched handsome David Muir deliver dire news about Omicron surging, Broadway shows closing, restaurants closing, and we canceled,” she said. This year, she was determined to make the trip happen: “I swear by all that is holy that even an outbreak of rabid, flesh-eating bacteria will not keep me from it.” Last weekend, she and her husband made the delayed trip, trying out some new restaurants and seeing “Death of a Salesman” and “A Strange Loop.”For performers, this year is a welcome relief.Scott Mello, a tenor, has been singing Handel’s “Messiah” at Trinity Church Wall Street each Christmas season since 2015. Last year he found himself singing the “Messiah” at home, in the shower, but it wasn’t the same. “It didn’t feel like Christmas,” he said. This year, he added, “feels like an unveiling.”Ashley Hod, a soloist with New York City Ballet, has been part of its “Nutcracker” for much of her life — she performed in it as a child, when she was studying at the ballet’s school, and joined the cast as an apprentice in 2012; since then she has performed most of the women’s roles. Last year she rehearsed for two months to get ready to go on as the Sugarplum Fairy, but the show was canceled before her turn arrived.“It was devastating,” she said.This year, she’s on as a soloist, and thrilled. “We all have a new appreciation for it,” she said. “Everyone feels really lucky to be back.”On Broadway, things are looking up: Thanksgiving week was the top-grossing week since theaters reopened. And there are other signs of seasonal spending: Jefferson Mays’s virtuosic one-man version of “A Christmas Carol,” which he performed without an audience for streaming when the pandemic made in-person performances impossible, finally made it to Broadway, and is selling strongly as Christmas approaches.Beyond Broadway, things are better too. In New Orleans on Tuesday night, Christmas Without Tears returned — it’s a rambunctious and star-studded annual variety show hosted by the performers Harry Shearer and Judith Owen to raise money for charity (this year, Innocence Project New Orleans).Some “Messiah” fans seemed to be in the Christmas spirit. Calla Kessler for The New York Times“The audience was so primed, ready, and wanting the show,” Owen said. “It was like they’d waited two years for this.”But there are also reasons for sobriety: Broadway’s overall grosses this season are still about 13 percent below what they were in 2019, and this fall a number of shows, struggling to find audiences, have been forced to close. Around the country, many performing arts organizations have been unable to bring audiences back at prepandemic levels.Not everyone is rushing back. Erich Meager, a visual artist in Palm Springs, had booked 10 shows over six nights last December. Then the Rockettes closed, then “Jagged Little Pill,” then two more. “Each morning we would wake up and see what shows were canceled and search for replacements, a less than ideal theater experience,” he said. “This year we are staying close to home for the holidays, but next year we’ll be back.”But many patrons are ready to celebrate.“There have been so many virtual performances, but it’s not really the same thing,” said Luciana Sikula, a Manhattan fashion industry worker who had been attending a performance of “Messiah” annually at Trinity Church Wall Street until the pandemic, and finally got to experience it again in person again this month.Jeffrey Carter, a music professor from St. Louis who had booked and canceled five trips to New York since the pandemic began, finally made it this week; he checked out the new Museum of Broadway as well as an exhibit at the Grolier Club, caught the Oratorio Society of New York’s “Messiah” at Carnegie Hall, and saw “A Man of No Importance,” “A Strange Loop” and “Little Shop of Horrors.” “I’m packing in N.Y.C. at Christmastime in four days and four nights,” he said, “and I’m catching up — in person — with people I love.” More