Monday, November 9, 2020

My review in Backtrack.com this week: Tabita Berglund conducted works by Sibelius and Beethoven in a concert of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, November 6, 2020. Boris Giltburg performed the Beethoven Third Piano Concerto and, as an encore, dazzled with the final movement of Beethoven's Sonata No. 30. Review link follows:

Masterful direction: Tabita Berglund conducts the RSNO in Beethoven and Sibelius


Saturday, October 31, 2020

I Sing Silicon Valley Medley; Picasso Celebration Favorites

Here are two separate recordings I reviewed recently for ConcertoNet.com : "Here I Stand" with I Sing Silicon Valley (choir) and Les Musiques de Picasso:

I Sing Silicon Valley:  https://concertonet.com/scripts/cd.php?ID_cd=4604

Les Musiques de Picasso:  https://concertonet.com/scripts/cd.php?ID_cd=4593



Bruckner's E Minor Mass, Aliya Turetayeva's Debut

Here are links to my recent reviews for ConcertoNet.com of two separate CDs :Bruckner's E Minor Mass and Motets, and Aliya Turetayeva's debut album of Schumann favorites:

https://concertonet.com/scripts/cd.php?ID_cd=4614

https://concertonet.com/scripts/cd.php?ID_cd=4616






Monday, August 17, 2020

The Bargain (a poem in honor of the 250th anniversary of Beethoven's birth)

 

The Bargain

 

The pianist sat worried at the keys.

It was that moment when the sun emerges from the night.

Or was it dusk, and had the sun just set?

I forget.

 

Whatever time it was, whatever day,

The man, not a religious sort,

Began to pray.

 

“I have no music,” was the young man’s cry.

I have no songs to give. Lord, say

The word, unloose what’s pent up in my heart.

I’ll change my ways, live only for my art.

 

“How I regret my misspent days.

Let my soul sing again, and You

Alone will be the object of my endless praise.”

 

Prayers from these swaggering self-centered fools,

Who usually God deny, intrigue the Deity.

And so He stopped the sun’s descent (or rise)

And brushed His hand across the pianist’s eyes.

 

It was a spell,

And so it fell upon the sad man’s soul.

Near blinded by the Light

That sat beside him on the quilted bench,

He blinked, too stunned to gasp.

Every finger in his fists unclenched, unclasped.

 

The pianist saw no form or face,

But heard resounding in his bones

An unmistakable deep voice the words intone:

“Be silent. Listen carefully to what I say.

I have a deal to make with you today.”

 

Tears welled in the young man’s eyes.

Who would have thought that prayers

So easy and immediately could yield

Spectacular results like these. 

“I'll go church more often,” he briefly mused,

“And not make fun of nuns and rosaries.”


“What is this deal?” the musician asked,

“Will I compose again? Will thousands thrill

To bagatelles and variations without end,

To fugues, and trills, and lilting rounds, and

Choruses and songs? Will my creative power,

once-inexhaustible, return ere long?

 

“You shall, it will,” the Master said,

“if you agree to terms I offer you

So light and free. All I will restore to you

And more, if you make one small sacrifice

For me.

 

“I’ll give you all the music that Heaven can embrace.

I’ll yield the murmurs of My Heart,

The swirling stars in space.

The wing beat of a hummingbird

The crimson of the dawn, the lion’s roar,

I’ll fill your soul with sound that never has been heard before.”

 

The young man was transfigured,

He almost would have glowed,

Except the thought of one small thing,

Unknown, his ardor slowed.

 

“That all sounds quite enticing,” he said

With some control. “But I can’t help feeling

The price will weigh too heavy on my soul.”

 

The Light dimmed briefly, then flared bright.

“There is a cost,” He said. “I’ll give you all my music.

But your hearing take instead.”

 

“My hearing!” The pianist was silent. Then, bending from the waist,

He fell upon the keyboard. The keys crashed in their place.

A terrible discord filled the room. The sun’s reflection on the floor,

Quivered, then was no more.

 

“It is the law of Nature I created,” the Mighty One whispered in his ear.

“For any force of Nature, an opposite reaction must appear.

 

“Humanity, potentially my greatest feat, hungers for art to lift them from defeat.

There is no other mortal, save yourself, who can deliver them from grinding strife.”

 

“But how could I endure, not hearing my own work?

This is my life!”

 

“You will see it in the faces of those who do

And in their lives, transformed, because of you.

You will see it in the changes you have rent:

breeze-lifted seedlings, heaven-sent.”

 

The musician sat up straight, then looked away. 

He could not tell if it were night or day. 

But as time passed, the strain

Of sorrow on his face did not stay long.

 

“I never could resist a song,” he said at last, 

with a hint of a wink, looking back at the Light

which already had begun to shrink.

“Perhaps it’s fair.“

 

“You’ll never know unless you take my dare.” 

The Wise One paused.

“I know the pain of sacrifice. But never mind. 

You’ll be glad when it is over,

but it still hurts at the time.”

 

And so the Light receded, and the day began.

(You see, it was a rising sun, as Franklin knew.)

At the keyboard, fresh improvisations flew

From the fingers of the sad young man. Unfurled,

 

They rose into the air

And through the window's light,

In the direction of the sun

And the shepherd's silent pipe.

                                                                                                                                             --L.L.Holt, 2020



            Christmas Pianist, a painting by James Nyika

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Llŷr Williams plays the 32 Beethoven piano sonatas


Llyr Williams's Beethoven sonata cycle, one of the most extraordinary feats of musicianship in our still new century, had been scheduled at the Guadalajara, Mexico, music festival in 2020 as part of the composer's 250th anniversary celebration. But the global pandemic required other, more creative solutions to showcasing this rare musical talent.

Instead of streaming from an empty concert hall, the program was recorded in Williams's own home. The cozy environment (one expects a tray of Welsh breakfast tea and scones to appear any moment) provided a refreshing new experience of one of Beethoven's towering achievements. Eight videos of the complete cycle appeared on YouTube during June 2020. There may be a still photo or clip from the recordings hanging around YouTube if you search diligently. Ironically, many thousands more listeners were able to watch the videos than would have attended the performances in Mexico.

The good news is that Williams's cycle is available, audio only, in a recording made a couple of years back at Wigmore Hall. Search for "Beethoven Unbound" 12-CD set or mp3 at amazon.com or other music distributors.


Mastering "The 32" is the aim of many of the classical world's finest pianists, but Williams does more than that: he liberates them. With clarion-bright tones, a sure touch--powerful but never jolting--and a memory for every staccato dot and pedal release (impressive to a non-pianist like myself, but de rigueur for serious musicians ), the artist presents a Beethoven of intelligence, wit, and a universe of feelings: eager, bold, and mystical. 

Llyr Williams

Saturday, May 2, 2020

What's in the pipeline? Tea, Humanities, and something more

During the coronavirus pandemic, there have not been many opportunities for music journalists and reviewers to attend concerts and compose essays about performances. However, most writers have a few tricks up their sleeves, and I am no exception.

While continuing to teach Humanities courses at Thomas Edison State University and Southern New Hampshire University, I am working on a few writing projects that reflect my love of music, the humanities, and Asian culture and philosophy.

These include plans for a new book which weds the art of tea to the spiritual classics of China. This follows in the wake of the successful launch of my latest book, Dao and Daoist Ideas for Scientists, Humanists and Practitioners (Nova Science Publishers, 2019), co-edited with Yueh-ting Lee, Dean of the Graduate School and Professor of Psychology at Southern Illinois University-Carbondale.
https://tinyurl.com/yb4oy7xh



As to be expected, Beethoven is never far from my writing desk. I have a number of "Beethoven and..." articles and papers in mind, and may be tempted to pen another chapter in the Beethoven Chronicles (Invictus and The Black Spaniard). I am also planning some essays relating to music in time of pandemic. In March and April of 2020, I must have seen more operas (thanks to online archival streaming) than in the last 30 years combined, including four different castings of Beethoven's only opera, Fidelio.

While catching up, I want to express my gratitude for the judges and administrators of the Artblog emerging writers competition this winter. There was a cash prize for the top winners in art and music writing, designated, I am sure, for young people hoping to start a career. But since there was no age limit indicated, I qualified for and was thrilled to receive an Honorable Mention for writing about music; specifically, an unpublished review of the Mozart Requiem performed in Philadelphia.


At the beginning of the pandemic, many of us despaired that arts organizations--struggling in the best of times--would not survive. But the emergence of small, socially distanced groups and online streaming such as Hope@home and World Piano Day, rekindled the embers of anticipation.  At this writing I have just enjoyed Deutsche Grammophon's stream of Nine World Premieres by Dmitri Shostakovich (July 5, 2020) with performances by Avdeeva, Masleev, and Trifonov.

As business studies have proven for decades, people do not work for money alone; indeed, their greatest effort may be in service to an ideal or passion, which as often as not is an expression of artistic culture. Despite my initial pessimism, I now know that the arts will survive and thrive once more. The arts are rooted in the human soul, and no force can extirpate or remove them from their ground.

They may not immediately resemble the arts we previously knew. But like the biblical words of Handel's Messiah, "The trumpet will sound..."

And we shall be changed.