Premieres (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Premieres. Scott Wheeler: Birds of America; Avner Dorman: Nigunim (Violin Concerto No. 2); Bright Sheng: Let Fly. Gil Shaham, violin; The Orchestra Now; Leon Botstein, conductor. Canary Classics CC26

Our first encounter with The Orchestra Now conducted by Leon Botstein did not go all that well, as we found their previous release, Transcription as Translation (AVIE AV2822), to be less than inspiring listening (you can find our review of that CD here). This time around, however, we find these same musicians on a different label and taking a different musical approach; rather than transcriptions of works from the past, they are teaming with violin virtuoso Gil Shaham (b. 1971) to present three contemporary concertos for violin and orchestra. Each of these works was in fact written expressly for Shaham, who writes, “it is an honor to have premiered and been a part of the creation of the three compositions featured on this album. I treasure my friendships with Avner, Bright, and Scott, whose inspired music has already resonated with so many, and with Leon, whose singular artistry and vision made this project happen."

Birds of America is American composer Scott Wheeler’s (b. 1952) second violin concerto. It is in the typical three-movement, fast-slow-fast format, with all three movements incorporating bird-inspired sounds and themes. Although that description might make it seem as though the music might sound gimmicky or superficial, the piece sounds at once serious and playful, pleasant and substantial. Nigunim by Israeli composer Avner Dorman (b. 1975) is in four movements with a slow-fast-slow-fast pattern. It is a more intense-sounding, driven work than Birds. There are clearly discernible Jewish influences and elements, such as Klezmer music. Let Fly by Chinese American composer Bright Sheng (b. 1955) is in three movements, played without a break, with the soloist asked to insert a brief cadenza between the second and third movements. The work’s title has a dual origin: “first, it is the aural image of the violin melody just flying off in the air, an everlasting sensation when I first saw Gil Shaham perform a concert. The second inspiration of the title came from my daughter Fayfay (homonym for ‘to fly’ in Chinese). I wrote a child rhyme named after her when she was born on November 15th, 2010. And the first phrase of the song appears a few times in the composition.” It’s a rhapsodic piece, flowing and free, with Shaham given plenty of opportunity to shine. With three substantial concertos, excellent engineering, and informative program notes, Premieres is a recommendable release.

 

Concert Report: Pat Metheny Side-Eye III+ 

 

In my recent review of the latest release from the veteran American guitarist and composer Pat Metheny (b. 1954), titled Side-Eye III+ (you can find that review here), I mentioned that I was looking forward to attending a live concert in April by the touring version of this band. And so it was that on a pleasant spring evening in Cincinnati that my wife, one of my sons, and I sat down in our front-row balcony seats to enjoy another evening of music from Metheny’s electric band. Our son Isaac, now in his 50s, had been just a young kid when we took him and his older brother to see the Pat Metheny Group (Metheny, guitar; Lyle Mays, keyboards; Steve Rodby, bass; Paul Wertico, drums; Pedro Aznar, guitar, vocals; Naná Vasconcelos, percussion) back in the fall of 1981. Since then, sad to say, both Lyle Mays (1953-2020) and Naná Vasconcelos (1944-2016) have passed on; they are both dearly missed. Around 2019 or so, Metheny embarked on what he came to call his Side-Eye project, seeking out and jamming with talented young musicians who were familiar with his music, which led to some recordings and tours. The most recent incarnation of Side-Eye is Side-Eye III, which includes Metheny plus Chris Fishman on piano, organ, and synthesizers and Joe Dyson on drums. For the recent studio album, Metheny augmented the core trio with a number of other musicians, hence the designation “III+” in the title. For the concert tour, the trio was expanded to a quintet with the addition of Leonard Patton, percussion and vocals, and Jermain Paul, bass. Metheny and his band put on quite a show, playing for more than two hours. There were tunes from the new album, such as “In On It,” “Urban and Western,” and “SE-O;” there was a solo acoustic guitar segment from Pat, alone on stage, and there were even some old Pat Metheny Group favorites, including a couple we had hear back in 1981, “Phase Dance” and “Are You Going With Me?” The two musical and emotional highlights of the evening for me were also Pat Metheny Group tunes, both from the same 1984 album, Metheny’s final release on Manfred Eicher’s ECM label, First Circle (ECM 1278), “The First Circle” and “Más Allá (Beyond),” both of which on this night featured the moving vocal contributions of Leonard Patton. “The First Circle” is a kinetic, propulsive song that just keeps cranking up the energy level until you think you are going to burst with sheer joyful excitement; “Más Allá,” on the other hand, is more reflective. On the 1984 ECM album, it was sung by a young Pedro Aznar, then soon after the passing of his old bandmate and friend Lyle Mays in 2020, the mature Pedro Aznar, now an established musician in his native Argentina, recorded the tune on YouTube in tribute (you can watch that video here). Hearing Side-Eye III+ with Leonard Patton singing this tender melody brought back memories of Pedro, of Lyle – and with those memories came tears of both sadness and joy. Such is the power of music. Should you ever get the opportunity to catch Pat Metheny in concert – whether solo or in a group – do not hesitate, because he is one of the master musicians of our time.

Beethoven: String Quartets, Op. 59 Nos. 1 & 2 (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Chiaroscuro Quartet. BIS-2688

I’ve always been ambivalent about period instrument performances. At times they strike me as highly effective, as in John Eliot Gardiner’s Bach choral-orchestral works with the Monteverdi Choir and English Baroque Soloists. But probably more than half the time I remain unconvinced. “It’s a different sound,” defenders tell me, “more close to the original. More authentic. You just have to get used to it.” Maybe this is true in my case. But if so, I wonder when my full conversion will finally come. Because I’ve been listening to such performances, and their supporting arguments, for nearly 30 years now, and too many of them still strike me as noble attempts at best, or gimmickry at worst.  

 

I wouldn’t call the Chiaroscuro Quartet’s interpretations of the first two Razumovsky Quartets “gimmickry.” The group is far too tasteful and conscientious for that label. But I wouldn’t place them on the John Eliot Gardiner Bach level either. Mostly what we have here are terrific musicians who are hampered by their choice of inferior equipment for this specific repertoire. They bill themselves as an ensemble that plays on “gut strings and with historical bows.” But too often in this release I hear what could be solid performances bogged down by strings that sound shrill in robust passages, with a lack of resonance that leads to clipped or hurried execution in exposed phrases. I’m sorry, but I don’t value any supposedly “authentic” sound (I see you, Kerman, Taruskin, and others) enough to tolerate such trade-offs in two of my favorite string quartets. 

 

Let’s take these two renditions in turn. The first opens with a well-judged movement, hampered only by under-volumed solo passages (including the opening cello line) and a brittle sound in places. But the following scherzo is the recording’s low point. It’s not only the sound here that’s a problem, but also a few unfortunate interpretation choices. Some passages seem rushed, and when we should better hear the interplay of the main motive, we instead have too many microgestures and under-realized phrases. A sense of the epic that pervades Beethoven’s middle period definitely should be heard here; instead, the impression is one of stickiness. With the slow movement, we run into sound issues again. The playing itself is wonderful, but the timbre is tinny and strained when it should lend better to a smooth intimacy. It almost reminds me of the uncomfortable buzz that results when a manual transmission driver tries to go too fast in a lower gear. 

 

If the Chiaroscuros slip interpretively in a couple of Op. 59/1’s movements, they’re noticeably more consistent in its successor. But to be honest, this just makes me want to hear them use modern instruments all the more. Again we have a finely conceived first movement spoiled somewhat by the gut string timbres. The buzziness creeps in, especially with all of the accompaniment figures of second and third interval oscillations. The many long-held notes in the second movement come across much the same. Contrapuntal audibility again is not what it could be in the third movement, but the finale at least is nicely done, with its fleet tempo and character concealing some of these issues.  

 

For the sake of argument, let’s say these instruments really are close to what Beethoven heard: that doesn’t mean they’re preferable now. Maybe they weren’t even then. On multiple occasions he mourned the mismatch between his conceptions and the available tools. There is no doubt in my mind that he would have preferred modern strings here. Even if he wouldn’t have, I might still disagree with him. And this is where the period instrument arguments fall apart for me. Just because these might have been the tools Beethoven had doesn’t mean they’re the tools he wished for…or should have wished for. This is what I kept thinking about as I listened. We have competent, and at times even poignant accounts here. They’re just not entirely satisfying. A niche premise can’t ultimately stand in for the experience of the music. Modern equipment is simply more capable, and when the music in question demands more (in terms of heft, tone color, resonance, and versatility of sound – things Bach’s music doesn’t demand to the same extent), I naturally regret its absence. 

Eric Whitacre: The Pacific Has No Memory (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

Anne Akiko Meyers, violin; Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. AVIE AV2853

The American composer and conductor Eric Whitacre (b. 1970) is most widely known for his choral works, many of which we have reviewed here at Classical Candor, starting back in 2010, when John Puccio gave a listen to Whitacre’s first recording for the Decca label, Light & Gold (you can find that review here). A couple of years later, John reviewed another Decca release by Whitacre, Water Night (that review can be found here). Several years later, we reviewed a deeply personal and moving release titled The Sacred Veil, this time on the Signum label (that review can be found here). In 2023, Whitacre released another version of his composition the Sacred Veil, on a Decca release titled Home that featured Whitacre conducting the British vocal ensemble Voces8 (that review is here). Those recordings all featured choral compositions; however, this new AVIE recording is purely instrumental, an elegy for violin and chamber orchestra that Whitacre composed in response to a commission from violinist Anne Akiko Meyers (b. 1970), who lost her home, “a place alive with laughter, music, and the joyful chaos of my husband, our two young daughters and crazy rescue dog – never to return,”  to the tragic California Palisades wildfires of January 2025.

Meyers goes on to recount, “yet from the ash and destruction, something profoundly beautiful emerged – much like the glowing fairy at the end of Fantasia, rising from Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite. I commissioned Eric Whitacre to write a new work for violin and orchestra, and as the world changed, so did his composition. Little did I know that The Pacific Has No Memory would be born from these epic tragedies. This music has become a salve for the soul – a warm, healing embrace for my broken heart. Tender and profound, it radiates love, hope, and renewal.” In a strange twist of fate, Whitacre, who had himself lived in Los Angeles before moving to Antwerp with his family in 2024, flew back to Los Angeles on January 8, 2025, only to find, as he relates in the liner notes, “the sky over the Palisades was already smudged black, homes and histories evaporating into the quiet air… The Pacific Has No Memory takes its title from a line in one of my favorite films, The Shawshank Redemption. In it, Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) dreams of a life near the ocean his past is a memory of a memory, distant and liquid – a place where the blue of the Pacific will give him a chance to start new, reborn. I hope the same for all who lost so much in those terrible fires.” What Whitacre went on to compose is a moving elegy for violin and chamber orchestra, lovingly performed here by violinist Meyers and the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, who per custom and design perform sans conductor. Although the overall tone is one of sadness, it is not one of anguish. There is a feeling of calm, of peace, of resolve. Brief though it may be, this is a compellingly beautiful composition available both as a CD or via streaming. Either way, it’s well worth seeking out.