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Above: Flautist Sooyun Kim, pianist Ken Noda, and soprano Erika Baikoff; photo by Paul Mardy

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday April 12th, 2026 – Soprano Erika Baikoff joined a select group of artists onstage at Alice Tully Hall for an evening of music by French composers.

Camille Saint-Saëns’ Trio No. 1 in F-major for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 18, dating from 1864, was the concert’s opening work. Orion Weiss was at the Steinway, joined by violinist Lun Li and cellist David Requiro.

The opening Allegro vivace presents a flow of melody, underscored with sparkling piano phrases. Things get more intense, with rich string themes and rippling scales from the keyboard. The music gets tempestuous, but soon calms.  Virtuosity is in full flourish before the movement reaches a grand finish.

The Andante commences in a misterioso mood; a poignant theme emerges, followed by some melodramatic passages. Mr. Li’s violin sings of sadness, and the Requiro cello glows, exploring tonal depths. After a brief cadenza from Mr. Weiss, the original theme returns.

Dotty piano notes and plucking strings introduce the Scherzo – a short and lively movement which gets rather rambunctious before reaching an ironic ending. The concluding Allegro is luxuriantly played; at times feeling waltzy, it has a boisterous detour and a curious conclusion.

The trio, while perfectly pleasing, seems to go on a bit longer than one might want; compared to the composer’s  most beloved works – Danse macabre, Carnival of the Animals, and SAMSON & DALILA – it is perfectly pleasing music but not truly memorable.

Henri Duparc’s gorgeous song “L’Invitation au voyage” brought forth Ms. Baikoff, accompanied by Ken Noda at the Steinway. A blonde beauty clad in a creamy white gown, the soprano has a light vibrato that gives life to the music. The voice can entice us with its delicacy…and with touches of straight-tone. Mr. Noda’s playing ravishes the ear with his silken subtleties, whilst Ms. Baikoff spins out her silvery phrases. The iconic words “…luxe…calme…et volupté…” give me a blissful frisson.     

Flautist de luxe  Sooyun Kim then joins the soprano and pianist for Maurice Ravel’s haunting Shéhérazade, dating from 1903. The texts for this three-movement piece comes from Tristan Klingsor, with whom Ravel worked closely to match melodic instincts to poetic details.   

“Asie” (Asia) is the work’s longest movement; it provides a delicious, exotic escape from European culture. Mr. Noda’s playing is simply fantastic, and Ms. Baikoff continues to seduce the ear with exquisite pianissimo top notes. The music turns briefly stormy, and then agitated. There is a sublime piano interlude, leading to the second song. 

Ms. Kim walks slowly onto the stage; clad all in severe black, which evokes a priestly dignity, she commences “La flûte enchantée ” (The Enchanted Flute): a brief, mesmerizing piece wherein a slave girl hears her lover serenading her with his flute outside her dwelling. Ms. Kim’s playing was magical; she then walked on across the stage and exited as if in a passing dream.

For the concluding L’indifférent (The Indifferent One), a languid, almost sultry atmosphere is evoked. The song, which hints at gender ambiguity and unrequited infatuation, was sung and played by Ms. Biakoff and Mr. Noda with seductive delicacy.

To end the concert, violist Matthew Lipman joined Mssrs. Li, Requiro, and Weiss for Gabriel Fauré’s Quartet No. 1 in C-minor  for Piano, Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 15. This work was three years in the making (1876 to 1879), having its  premiere in February 1880 at a concert of the Société Nationale de Musique in Paris.

This is music full of warmth and optimism, and the musicians’ playing of it was heartfelt from note one. The strings commence with a rich unison theme, whilst Mr. Weiss plays gloriously. Epic beauty seems to fill the hall; Mr. Li’s radiant tone and the velvety sound of Mr. Requiro’s cello are finely balanced, whilst violist Matthew Lipman is – as always – a treat to the ear and the eye alike. The music gets grand, and then settles into a luxurious calm.

The Scherzo opens with the strings plucking whilst the pianist rambles amiably about the keyboard; animation sets in, the music speeding along until the plucking resumes. There is a false ending, and then some cascading piano scalework.

Fauré’s harmonic innovations illuminate the Andante, drawing on the poignant cello, the ecstatic violin, and a sense of longing from the viola to create a dreamlike atmosphere. Mr. Weiss brings extraordinary delicacy to the music; there is a unison rise from the strings which carries us on to the luminescence of the pianist’s concluding measures.

The Allegro molto (the current version is an 1883 re-write of the original) has the viola, cello, and violin passing melodious fragments around, leading to an outpouring of achingly beautiful music. There is a plush cello passage, and the Li violin sails on high. Following some glimmering measures from the, the quartet reaches its splendid finish.

Above: Violinist Lun Li, pianist Orion Weiss, cellist David Requiro, and violist Matthew Lipman; photo by Paul Mardy

Fauré’s marvelous music, and the opulent playing of it, made for a perfect finish to a most enjoyable evening.

~ Oberon 

Performance photos by Paul Mardy, courtesy of Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, with my thanks to Beverly Greenfield.

Above: this afternoon’s Rodolfo, tenor Adam Smith

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday April 11th, 2026 matinee – I’ve been hearing BOHEME frequently at The Met in recent seasons. The older I get the more moving I find this opera (and MADAMA BUTTERFLY, too) in its tale of love and loss. On a scale of one to ten in the heartbreak department, this afternoon’s performance scored an eleven. The singing, always engaging, was thwarted – as it is in so many Met presentations these days – by volume from the pit that even the most powerful voices in the cast could not withstand. The conductor, making his Met debut, seems not to have had time to gauge the balance of acoustics in this big barn of a theatre. As always, during the endless intervals, people stopped by to chat with me at my score desk; they all felt that the voices were too often covered by the orchestral volume.

The House was well-packed, and, as is the case so often these days, arias and duets were greeted with a few seconds of applause while – during the bows – the singers were vociferously cheered.  

The men in the cast were all winners. Adam Smith was an ardent Rodolfo, able to crest the orchestra (most of the time) with his big-lyric voice. He made wonderful use of his dynamic range, often honing down phrases with persuasive diminuendos. He harmonized the offstage ending of the love duet, though his Mimi could not sustain the phrase. Mr. Smith made Rodolfo’s despair in Act III palpable as he sang of Mimi’s fragile health. His attention to detail illuminated certain moments that most tenors throw away: his sly “Colline…sei morto?” after the philosopher had fallen down the stairs in Act I was one of many little gems. Then there was his powerful top-B at the climax of the “waltz-reprise” in Act II. Bravo!

I’d heard Davide Luciano’s Marcello and Sharpless before, and was keen to hear his mellifluous voice again. His timbre has a luxuriant glow, tinged with traces of darkness…thoroughly engrossing to hear at every moment. In the duet with Angel Blue’s Mimi in Act III, the singers poured out phrases of engrossing beauty and power, pulling back touchingly when the words called for more intimacy. This duet, and the Act IV blending of the voices of Messrs. Smith and Luciano in their brotherly musings, were highlights of the afternoon.

Edward Parks was an engaging Schaunard; in recent years I have come to appreciate this role and its importance both musically and in the narrative. Mr. Parks made a fine vocal impression.

The potent voice of Greek basso Alexandros Stavrakakis brought forth some of the afternoon’s most compelling singing. The singer’s every utterance had real impact, and his rendering of the Coat Aria was one of the most moving I have ever experienced.: a genuine basso profundo to be sure. I wanted so much to meet him at the stage door, but he somehow managed to slip by me. Next season, for sure…

In her Met debut, soprano Amina Edris scored a success with her Musetta. The soprano down-played the disruptive shrieks that some sopranos employ to get attention from the crowd at Cafe Momus. When things settled, Ms. Edris sang the Waltz with subtle seductiveness, capping it off with a striking, piano top B…very enticing. As Act III opened, the soprano dreamily repeated the theme of her famous waltz.

In the opera’s final moments, Musetta and Marcello are drawn together as he finally understands her complicated but ultimately compassionate nature. Ms. Edris made something lovely out of her little prayer for her friend Mimi; the debuting soprano was warmly cheered as she took her solo bow.  

Angel Blue’s Mimi had a spinto  glow that worked wonders when dealing with sonic onslaughts from the pit. In Mimi’s Act I narrative, Ms. Blue’s lovely tone, and thoughtful way with words made the character come vividly to life. So charming as she described Mimi’s simple life, the soprano made magic as she phrased seamlessly into the magical phrase: “Ma, quando vien lo sgelo...”: so deeply moving. The orchestra developed off-putting walls of sound as the singers voiced the ecstatic start of the love duet, but Ms. Blue again took command with “Tu sol commandi, amore!” (one of the libretto’s best lines) and again with her touching “Vi starò vicina…“. The soprano faltered a bit on the duet’s climactic, offstage note.

As the afternoon progressed, Ms. Blue sang sumptuously; as mentioned earlier, her duet with Mr. Luciano in Act III was outstanding, and the ensuing trio where Marcello and Rodolfo discuss Mimi’s health whilst she, eavesdropping, grasps her own fate, was marvelous in every line and detail. Taking me by surprise was the soprano’s digging into chest voice for “Ch’ei non mi vedi!”, revealing her desperation…I don’t recall ever having heard it done that way. Ms. Blue’s “Donde lieta usci” was so expressive, accompanied by the tonal polish of harp, flute, clarinet, and violin. Mimi and Rodolfo’s duet of regret over past arguments provided both singers with memorable moments: Ms. Blue with “Sempre tua per la vita…” and Mr. Smith with his tender”..stagion dei fiori…” 

In the final act, Ms. Blue’s “Sono andati…” was so moving, as was the heartache of Mr. Smith’s Rodolfo watching his beloved’s life slip away. Ms. Blue’s faltering lines as she sank into her final sleep were infinitely touching. 

~ Oberon

~ Author: Kevin DallaSanta

Thursday April 9th, 2026 – Led by music director Andris Nelsons, the Boston Symphony returned to Carnegie Hall on this evening: a long-planned engagement jolted by news last month of Nelsons’ dismissal.

The night was originally slated to be a straightforward offering of works by John Adams and Dvorak, part of Carnegie’s “United In Sound” festival celebrating two hundred and fifty years of American music. For Nelsons, it became a victory tour of sorts, as he received raucous applause from the audience at the Hall, and enthusiastic foot stomping from his orchestra members, who have already voiced their support publicly.

Coincidentally, the first work of the program—three scenes from Nixon in China—is also a tale of clashing leaders and media spectacle. In the opera, the Nixons proceed through their historic visit with a mix of diplomatic braggadocio, bumbling misunderstanding, and occasional self-reflection. The libretto, by Alice Goodman, is more impressionistic than narrative, and conveys a sense of uncertainty under the facade of foreign affairs.

From the three-hour opera, Boston excerpted three scenes featuring Nixon and his wife, sung by Thomas Hampson and Renée Fleming, respectively. Both are reliable soloists, and executed the difficult vocal parts with clarity and diction; in fact, Hampson performed the role at the Paris Opera last month. Inexplicably, the unfilled soloist roles were sung by the entirety of the chorus, rather than individual members.

Adams depicts the diplomatic pressure and nerves using ceaseless rhythmic pulsations. This approach requires a great deal of work from the instrumentalists, who must play repeated figures at length, all the while counting bars to their next change of syncopation. Perhaps they are the toiling laborers lauded by the communists in the libretto; or perhaps they are just unlucky.

Despite the passage of five decades since the events took place, Nixon’s boasting, obsession with TV, frequent references to the space program, and rambling inner monologue ring eerily prescient. “I know America is good at heart,” Nixon says; but the year is 1972, and the audience knows what he was really thinking.

Dvorak’s Ninth Symphony occupied the second half of the program. A perennial crowd-pleaser, the work carries itself, with its famous English horn solo and bombastic brass finale. Dvorak enthusiastically credited Native American and Black music as inspiration. Dvorak’s Ninth is also strongly associated with the City, having been commissioned by the New York Philharmonic, during the composer’s time here, and premiered at Carnegie Hall. One can find a statue of the composer in Stuyvesant Square, and a plaque on his residence nearby.

The familiar symphony can nearly play itself, but Nelsons engaged actively with the orchestra, gesturing and shaping motifs as they passed between sections. The performance was anchored by excellent timpani work from principal Tim Genis. With extensive applause, Nelsons had plenty of time to acknowledge him and other individual musicians; indeed, Nelsons seemed ready to have every member stand up in turn. His own reluctant bow, as the concertmaster remained seated, was greeted with a roar from the audience. In a rare gesture of high praise, Nelsons was repeatedly brought back onstage by rhythmic clapping, unusual for a New York audience accustomed to rushing for the train.

“In politics, perception is reality,” both for Nixon in China and Nelsons in Boston. The unusual step by Boston’s management to release a statement appears to have backfired, in the court of public opinion, and Nelsons will likely receive a flurry of invitations. In New York, at least, spirits were high and the mood was optimistic.

~ Kevin DallaSanta

Performance photo by Kevin DallaSanta

Above: composer George Floyd

Author: Kevin DallaSanta

Wednesday April 8th, 2026 – Soprano Golda Schultz joined the New York Philharmonic for a fascinating program led by conductor Kwamé Ryan. Featuring emotionally dense and intellectual works, the program explored existential themes through the lens of American composers.

Schultz was to sing three powerful works: Barber’s Knoxville: Summer of 1915; Stravinsky’s “No Word from Tom”, from The Rake’s Progress; and Floyd’s “The Trees on the Mountain,” from Susannah.

The first, Barber’s Knoxville, is a pinnacle of American writing for voice. The text, written by James Agee, narrates a summer evening from the perspective a young child. As is the way with children, the telling is a collage of sensory impressions and feelings. But between the lines, Agee conveys a subtext of nostalgia and the child’s dim understanding of loss and growing older. Barber masterfully develops this subtext in the orchestral accompaniment, who comment from a grown-up’s perspective. They, like the audience, understand the bittersweetness of the soloist’s naive words. 

The second, Stravinsky’s “No Word from Tom,” finds the protagonist ghosted by her lover. She reflects on her plight but resolves to set out and find him. The opera, written in English and based on a set of paintings, is both praised and criticized for its neoclassicism; one could nearly mistake the aria for translated Mozart. Although Stravinsky was the only non-American composer on the program, the English language kept a sense of immediacy and tension for the evening’s existential theme.

The third, Floyd’s “The Trees on the Mountain”, is sung by a protagonist who experiences rejection from her religious community. Schultz did not sing the work in concert, due to vocal issues, but the work deserves listening on recording. Floyd’s gift for melody and sparing orchestration underscore the character’s isolation and add further heartbreak to the opera’s tragic plot.

Schultz’s voice is warm and pleasing, and her minimal vibrato emphasized the innocent nature of the characters. She performed with expressive acting, making Knoxville feel like an aria from some larger opera—a fresh and thought-provoking take. Ryan, who has won a Grammy for his conducting of new opera, provided excellent accompaniment, attuned to her nuance and deferential of the strong solo parts.

In addition to the three vocal works, the program included three instrumental works, of no less existential weightiness. The evening opened with Ives’ The Unanswered Question and closed with Barber’s Second Essay for Orchestra.

The Ives set a serious tone for the rest of the program, depicting the vain endeavor to answer the question of existence. Both Ives and Barber write rich tonal harmonies, providing a sense of familiar comfort, but use polytonality to disrupt that comfort with intrusive thoughts. The effect is like a bubble bath interrupted by a splash of cold water. The Barber is not explicitly programmatic, but its triumphant major resolution served in some respects as the “Answered Question”, concluding the program’s existential peregrination. 

In both pieces, Ryan provided close attention to detail and a sense of rhythmic vitality. These aspects were particularly key for the new work of the program: George’s Lewis’ “…ohne festen Wohnsitz” (“…without a fixed abode”), in its world premiere. 

The new work, co-commissioned by the Philharmonic, reflects Lewis’ research into the life of eighteenth-century African–German philosopher Anton Wilhelm Arno. Lewis writes: “I aim to remind listeners of our endemic condition of instability,” with concerns about colonialism, race, and institutions front of mind. The style of the piece was atonal and seemingly aleatoric—a genre sometimes called “experimental music,” which misleadingly implies that this sort of art has not been carefully cultivated across decades of composers’ efforts.

It can be helpful to interpret such atonal works in terms of sonic texture: loud crashes of sound alternate with shimmering, reflective pianissimos; and instruments produce both harsh scratches and dulcet tones. The impression is initially random chaos, but Lewis’ design gradually becomes clear, with an intentional progression of emotions.

Although the work largely defies classical conventions, Lewis does invoke a concerto model by featuring the New York quartet Yarn/Wire at the front of stage. With two keyboardists and two percussionists, the quartet dialogued with the orchestra and played three improvised cadenzas. Critics of new music will have well-worn responses to the premiere; but to stop there is to miss Lewis’ extremely active role in cultural and musical circles. By exploring the notion of “without a fixed abode,” and challenging the audience in their role as listeners, Lewis’ commission aligned with the program’s overarching existential theme.

The intellectual weight of the evening was further deepened by the presence of a Black conductor, Black soloist, and Black commissioned composer. Black music and musicians have certainly faced an existential journey, and the classical world is still struggling to reparate, even as it struggles to adapt to modernity. The works of Barber lose none of their potency over time, but the inclusion of new voices, both compositional and on stage, drew loud cheers from the audience. At intermission, Lewis could be seen in the aisle smiling and discussing animatedly with audience members. For a time, his hand is the one we can shake.

~ Kevin DallaSanta

The Gothenburg Symphony Choir and Orchestra, conducted by Johannes Gustavsson, perform Valborg Aulin’s Pie Jesu Domine .

Watch and listen here.

Read about the composer here.

Baritone David Malis singing Wolf’s “Verborgenheit” from the fifth preliminary round of the BBC Cardiff Singer Of The World competition in 1985. The pianist is Julian Smith.

David won the title that year. Watch and listen here.

Above: pianist Hayato Sumino

~ Author: Kevin DallaSanta

Tuesday March 31st, 2026 – Fresh from his Carnegie Hall debut, pianist Hayato Sumino returned tonight to the Perelman Stage, performing Gershwin’s Piano Concerto with the Philadelphia Orchestra, led by Marin Alsop.

Both composer and pianist straddled the classical-jazz divide. For Gershwin, who was riding on the recent success of his Rhapsody in Blue, the commissioned concerto was an earnest attempt at academic writing. Gershwin’s use of traditional form and motivic unity appealed to the critical sensibilities of discerning ears, without compromising on the “blue” harmonies and rhythmic vitality that had made his Rhapsody a public success.

For Sumino, the concerto offered a chance to show off his classical bona fides alongside his love of jazz and improvisation. As in his strong showings at the XVIII Chopin Competition and his Carnegie debut, last fall, in solo recital, Sumino demonstrated great attention to detail and a formidable technique, with ferocious octaves and crystalline passagework. Together with Alsop, Sumino provided a compelling reading and avoided the triteness that often afflicts performers in the melancholy sections of Gershwin’s music.

However, in a crowded landscape of soloists, it is Sumino’s improvisational abilities that have differentiated him as a pianist and attracted a vast following on social media. After an improvised cadenza in the final movement, the vigorous response of the audience brought an encore improvisation on I’ve Got Rhythm. The song is closely associated with Earl Wild, who transcribed it for piano, and like Sumino crossed between jazz and classical idioms with fluency. Sumino’s take on the tune was delightful and full of clever references, such as Chopin’s A-flat Polonaise.

Classical purists may balk at the presence of Gershwin on a program, the substitution of improvisation for written cadenzas, or the role of social media as performing artists adapt to a changing public. Nonetheless, the enthusiastic response to Sumino’s musical offerings speaks to Carnegie’s efforts at diversifying their programming. If pianists can avoid typecasting, in the modern era, Sumino’s well-rounded abilities promise many interesting performances to come.

Preceding the concerto was the New York premiere of The Rock You Stand On, by John Adams, in its New York premiere. Like Gershwin, Adams frequently draws from American jazz alongside the classical tradition. Consistent with his other short orchestral works, such as Short Ride in a Fast Machine, this commission featured syncopated rhythms and minimalistic development. Dense harmonic clusters primarily drive the texture and rhythm, with only a secondary impact on modal shifts.

The program noted Adams’ mutual affinity with Alsop. Her forward-pressing momentum and vigorous baton were an excellent match for the work’s propulsive energy and staccato chords. Adams often groups sections into competing motifs, such as bursts of brass vying with string ostinati for musical dominance. At times, the volumes between sections were not equally balanced, stemming either from orchestration or from realization.

Commissioned composers often face a difficult choice between refining their existing style and innovating. Taken as a whole, Adams’ creative legacy includes many instances of risk-taking, such as Nixon in China (which Alsop has recorded) and On the Transmigration of Souls. Fans of Adams’ signature style will not be disappointed with this addition to his oeuvre. With time, The Rock You Stand On will take its place in his output.

After intermission, the orchestra turned to Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. Delectable, succulent, and rich, Prokofiev’s take on the tale is among the best standalone scores in the ballet repertoire. The composer’s harmonic language shines as tonal chords resolve in unexpected ways, paralleling the bitter twists that characterize Shakespeare’s tragedy.

Romeo and Juliet spotlighted Philadelphia’s particular strengths: a sweet, warm tone, and smooth handoffs between instrumental sections. Alsop paid close attention to the narrative of the work, highlighting the many motifs that define the characters and their struggles. However, dynamic imbalances persisted, compounded by the live acoustics of the hall. It may be that Severance, where Alsop is principal guest conductor, provides more favorable acoustics. Or perhaps the Prokofiev is simply too much fun to play with restraint. After all, the young protagonists themselves loved with abandon.

In creating a separate orchestral version, Prokofiev invites questions about the subtractive nature of art. Is his ballet still Shakespeare without actors to tell the tale? Are the orchestral suites less-than for the lack of dancers, or do they stand on their own as a purely musical work? The enduring popularity of the work suggests that audiences, at least, find that the original narrative enhances the music.

In a fortunate coincidence, this performance of Romeo and Juliet precedes a summer staging with the Public Theater at the Delacorte in Central Park, and follows a recent staging at Stag & Lion Theatre Company. Shakespeare’s classic tale appears to benefit from continual reinterpretation, inspiring ballets, Broadway, and film. In the subsequent season at Carnegie, Philadelphia will explore another ballet, Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé.

~ Kevin DallaSanta

Above: Sigrid Kehl as Ariadne

Every once in a while, I discover a voice I’d never heard before; even rarer is to come upon a singer I’d never heard of.  It happened recently with Sigrid Kehl. 

Born in Berlin in 1929, Ms. Kehl made her operatic debut in her native city in 1956. In 1957, she joined the opera company at Leipzig where she sang for many years. She sang mezzo roles like Amneris, Eboli, Venus, Brangaene, Octavian, Gluck’s Orfeo, and the Nurse in Strauss’s FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN. In 1970, she started taking on such soprano roles as Leonore in FIDELIO, Ariadne, Isolde, and Kundry.

As the years passed, Ms. Kehl moved between mezzo – adding Venus and Ortrud – and soprano parts, including an Elektra when she stepped in at short notice for an ailing colleague. She worked with such conductors as Otmar Suitner, Vaclav Neumann, Zubin Mehta, and Kurt Masur.

After retiring from the stage, she taught at the Leipzing Conservatory for many years. She passed away in 2024 at the age of 95.

I first heard the Kehl voice singing Brunnhilde’s “Ewig war ich” from SIEGFRIED, conducted by Wolf-Dieter Hauschild. Listen here.

The Romanian mezzo-soprano Elena Cernei sings Jules Massenet’s “Élégie” from a radio concert given at Bucharest in 1968. The pianist is Dorina Popovici.

Listen here.

Ms. Cernei made her Metropolitan Opera debut as Dalila in 1965. In 1966, she sang Amneris in the first AIDA I ever saw. Her other Met roles were Maddalena in RIGOLETTO and the Princesse de Bouillon in ADRIANA LECOUVREUR; her Carmen won praise from the NY Times.

After her death in 2000, the Romanian government honored Ms. Cernei with the creation of a postage stamp.

Above: Michael Spyres, photo by Dasha Buben

Bari-tenor Michael Spyres sings Wagner’s Wesendonck Lieder at a concert given in Strasbourg in 2024. Ludovic Morlot conducts.

Watch and listen here.