History As Engaging Theater

York Newsday: New York Newsday New York EDITION MONDAY, JUNE 4, 1990 • MANHATTAN • 25 CENTS MUSIC REVIEW History As Engaging Theater THE NEW YORK CHAMBER ENSEMBLE. Stephen Rogers Radcliffe, music director. Hindemith: "Hin und Zurück" ("There and Back"); Weill: Mahagonny Songspiel; Milhaud: "The Abduction of Europe"; Ernst Toch: "The Princess and the Pea." Starring: Katherine Johnson, Margaret Bishop, Mark Bleeke, Richard Holmes, Robert Osborne, Nancy Ortez, Michael Brown. Florence Gould Hall, Friday night. By Tim Page THE NEW YORK Chamber Ensemble's Friday night re-creation of a particularly important concert from the 1927 Baden-Baden Festival was not only good, vital history but an engaging evening of music theater as well. Some background information: In the summer of 1927, four young composers — Paul Hindemith, Kurt Weill, Darius Milhaud and Ernst Toch — were invited to write short operas for performance in a small theater, with a limited number of soloists and a chamber ensemble instead of a full orchestra. On July 17 of that year, the four works received their world premiere performances at a festival of music in the German spa town of Baden-Baden; three of these were greeted enthusiastically, while the Weill work provoked wildly mixed reactions and even, if contemporary reports can be believed, some fisticuffs. Still, Weill's "Mahagonny Songspiel," to a text by Bertholt Brecht, was the only one of the four to enter the standard repertory and the central "Alabama Song" may be numbered among the composer's best-known creations. I have little patience for Brecht's shrill, debased representation of humanity but the music in this half-hour is wonderful — lean, tuneful, citric and altogether original. No wonder it caused a fuss. Hindemith's "Hin and Zuruck" — "There and Back" — owes a clear debt to the cinema. It might be described as an operatic palindrome that reaches a certain point in its action and is then run backwards. A husband enters to wish his wife a happy birthday, finds an incriminating love note, shoots her, then jumps out a window. The sequence of events is then reversed: the husband falls back through the window, the wife is restored to life, they quarrel about the love note, he wishes her a happy birthday and departs. Hindemith's score mirrors this chain of events: It is vigorous, virtuosic, richly contrapuntal and — no slight intended — sounds just as good backwards as forwards. In general, the music of Darius Milhaud has not worn the years very well (the same may be said of the other composers in the aggregate of French composers known as "Les Six," but Milhaud, with the most inflated reputation, had the farthest to fall). He now is remembered almost exclusively for his little jazz-age masterpiece, "La Creation du Monde," but the sweet pocket opera (nine minutes) he wrote for Baden-Baden, "The Abduction of Europe," deserves an occasional performance. It is exquisitely made, often very funny (including a chorus of mooing cows), imbued throughout with a sort of pastoral elegance that leads to a vaporous and beautiful finale. Unfortunately, the final opera, Ernst Toch's "The Princess and the Pea," is trite throughout, a succession of melodic, harmonic and theatrical predictabilities. Doubly unfortunately, it was by far the longest opera on the program — some 45 minutes. Still, for the sake of history, it had to be included: The New York Chamber Ensemble gave it a lively reading, and Margaret Bishop made a delightfully pouty princess. Indeed, there was little to fault in the evening's performances. The ensemble playing was synchronous and energetic, and Stephen Rogers Radcliffe's leadership was never less than authoritative. The singers — Mark Bleeke, Richard Holmes, Michael Brown, Robert Osborne, Nancy Ortez and Katherine Johnson — were equally fine; I particularly admired the Lotte Lenya-like mix of sweet and sour that Johnson brought to the Weill work. / II [Caption under photo: Conductor Stephen Rogers Radcliffe]

Press | Opera Reviews

Monday, June 4, 1990

History As Engaging Theater

By Tim Page

THE NEW YORK Chamber Ensemble’s Friday night re-creation of a particularly important concert from the 1927 Baden-Baden Festival was not only good, vital history but an engaging evening of music theater as well.

Some background information: In the summer of 1927, four young composers — Paul Hindemith, Kurt Weill, Darius Milhaud and Ernst Toch — were invited to write short operas for performance in a small theater, with a limited number of soloists and a chamber ensemble instead of a full orchestra. On July 17 of that year, the four works received their world premiere performances at a festival of music in the German spa town of Baden-Baden; three of these were greeted enthusiastically, while the Weill work provoked wildly mixed reactions and even, if contemporary reports can be believed, some fisticuffs.

Still, Weill’s “Mahagonny Songspiel,” to a text by Bertholt Brecht, was the only one of the four to enter the standard repertory and the central “Alabama Song” may be numbered among the composer’s best-known creations. I have little patience for Brecht’s shrill, debased representation of humanity but the music in this half-hour is wonderful — lean, tuneful, citric and altogether original. No wonder it caused a fuss.

Hindemith’s “Hin and Zuruck” — “There and Back” — owes a clear debt to the cinema. It might be described as an operatic palindrome that reaches a certain point in its action and is then run backwards. A husband enters to wish his wife a happy birthday, finds an incriminating love note, shoots her, then jumps out a window. The sequence of events is then reversed: the husband falls back through the window, the wife is restored to life, they quarrel about the love note, he wishes her a happy birthday and departs. Hindemith’s score mirrors this chain of events: It is vigorous, virtuosic, richly contrapuntal and — no slight intended — sounds just as good backwards as forwards.

In general, the music of Darius Milhaud has not worn the years very well (the same may be said of the other composers in the aggregate of French composers known as “Les Six,” but Milhaud, with the most inflated reputation, had the farthest to fall). He now is remembered almost exclusively for his little jazz-age masterpiece, “La Creation du Monde,” but the sweet pocket opera (nine minutes) he wrote for Baden-Baden, “The Abduction of Europe,” deserves an occasional performance. It is exquisitely made, often very funny (including a chorus of mooing cows), imbued throughout with a sort of pastoral elegance that leads to a vaporous and beautiful finale.

Unfortunately, the final opera, Ernst Toch’s “The Princess and the Pea,” is trite throughout, a succession of melodic, harmonic and theatrical predictabilities. Doubly unfortunately, it was by far the longest opera on the program — some 45 minutes. Still, for the sake of history, it had to be included: The New York Chamber Ensemble gave it a lively reading, and Margaret Bishop made a delightfully pouty princess.

Indeed, there was little to fault in the evening’s performances. The ensemble playing was synchronous and energetic, and Stephen Rogers Radcliffe’s leadership was never less than authoritative. The singers — Mark Bleeke, Richard Holmes, Michael Brown, Robert Osborne, Nancy Ortez and Katherine Johnson — were equally fine; I particularly admired the Lotte Lenya-like mix of sweet and sour that Johnson brought to the Weill work. / II

York Newsday: New York Newsday New York EDITION MONDAY, JUNE 4, 1990 • MANHATTAN • 25 CENTS MUSIC REVIEW History As Engaging Theater THE NEW YORK CHAMBER ENSEMBLE. Stephen Rogers Radcliffe, music director. Hindemith: "Hin und Zurück" ("There and Back"); Weill: Mahagonny Songspiel; Milhaud: "The Abduction of Europe"; Ernst Toch: "The Princess and the Pea." Starring: Katherine Johnson, Margaret Bishop, Mark Bleeke, Richard Holmes, Robert Osborne, Nancy Ortez, Michael Brown. Florence Gould Hall, Friday night. By Tim Page THE NEW YORK Chamber Ensemble's Friday night re-creation of a particularly important concert from the 1927 Baden-Baden Festival was not only good, vital history but an engaging evening of music theater as well. Some background information: In the summer of 1927, four young composers — Paul Hindemith, Kurt Weill, Darius Milhaud and Ernst Toch — were invited to write short operas for performance in a small theater, with a limited number of soloists and a chamber ensemble instead of a full orchestra. On July 17 of that year, the four works received their world premiere performances at a festival of music in the German spa town of Baden-Baden; three of these were greeted enthusiastically, while the Weill work provoked wildly mixed reactions and even, if contemporary reports can be believed, some fisticuffs. Still, Weill's "Mahagonny Songspiel," to a text by Bertholt Brecht, was the only one of the four to enter the standard repertory and the central "Alabama Song" may be numbered among the composer's best-known creations. I have little patience for Brecht's shrill, debased representation of humanity but the music in this half-hour is wonderful — lean, tuneful, citric and altogether original. No wonder it caused a fuss. Hindemith's "Hin and Zuruck" — "There and Back" — owes a clear debt to the cinema. It might be described as an operatic palindrome that reaches a certain point in its action and is then run backwards. A husband enters to wish his wife a happy birthday, finds an incriminating love note, shoots her, then jumps out a window. The sequence of events is then reversed: the husband falls back through the window, the wife is restored to life, they quarrel about the love note, he wishes her a happy birthday and departs. Hindemith's score mirrors this chain of events: It is vigorous, virtuosic, richly contrapuntal and — no slight intended — sounds just as good backwards as forwards. In general, the music of Darius Milhaud has not worn the years very well (the same may be said of the other composers in the aggregate of French composers known as "Les Six," but Milhaud, with the most inflated reputation, had the farthest to fall). He now is remembered almost exclusively for his little jazz-age masterpiece, "La Creation du Monde," but the sweet pocket opera (nine minutes) he wrote for Baden-Baden, "The Abduction of Europe," deserves an occasional performance. It is exquisitely made, often very funny (including a chorus of mooing cows), imbued throughout with a sort of pastoral elegance that leads to a vaporous and beautiful finale. Unfortunately, the final opera, Ernst Toch's "The Princess and the Pea," is trite throughout, a succession of melodic, harmonic and theatrical predictabilities. Doubly unfortunately, it was by far the longest opera on the program — some 45 minutes. Still, for the sake of history, it had to be included: The New York Chamber Ensemble gave it a lively reading, and Margaret Bishop made a delightfully pouty princess. Indeed, there was little to fault in the evening's performances. The ensemble playing was synchronous and energetic, and Stephen Rogers Radcliffe's leadership was never less than authoritative. The singers — Mark Bleeke, Richard Holmes, Michael Brown, Robert Osborne, Nancy Ortez and Katherine Johnson — were equally fine; I particularly admired the Lotte Lenya-like mix of sweet and sour that Johnson brought to the Weill work. / II [Caption under photo: Conductor Stephen Rogers Radcliffe]

Schoenberg’s Thorny Power Demystified

New York Newsday TUESDAY, SEPT. 15, 1987 Schoenberg’s Thorny Power Demystified MUSIC REVIEW > THE NEW YORK CHAMBER ENSEMBLE Stephen Rogers Radcliffe music director. The New York Woodwind Quintet. The Fine Arts Quartet. Ursula Oppens piano Gwendolyn Mok harmonium Alvin Brehm bass Debussy Hanns Eisler Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. Schoenberg Felix Greissle: Four Songs. Schoenberg. "Lied der Waldtaube" from "Gurrelieder." Mahler Philip West Ruckert Lieder. Schoenberg. Kammersymphonie (Op. 9). Alice Tully Hall Saturday night. > By Tim Page "IS THIS WHAT they call new music?" asked the woman in front of me Saturday night at Alice Tully Hall, immediately after a performance of Arnold Schoenberg's "Vier Lieder" (Opus 22), written in 1915. When I replied that it was actually fairly old music by now, she was silent for a moment, then turned again. "And do you really like it?" she asked, a look of befuddlement on her face. Well, yes, I do; very much indeed. But many do not, and Schoenberg's later works are no more popular today than they were 25 years ago. A poll conducted by the Schwann record catalog named Schoenberg the least popular composer in the repertory, and one of the few who inspired genuine antipathy from an audience. The fabled day when the masses would accept and love his music as their own — long promised by Schoenberg's apostles — never came. Yet the music itself shows no sign of losing its thorny, uncompromising power, and I suspect that it will always command a small audience and a great deal of respect. After more than half a century, it still challenges, still sounds "modern," still refuses to soften into easy listening. In 1921, Schoenberg asserted that he had "ensured the supremacy of German music for the next 100 years." It never happened (although who can say what might have come to pass had there never been a war?) and it is entirely possible that Schoenberg will ultimately be regarded as a brilliant eccentric — one of those composers, such as Gesualdo, Berlioz, Sibelius and Varese, who will always stand outside the musical mainstream. Oddly enough, it is now easier to like Schoenberg than it ever was before — not merely because he is no longer endlessly extolled as a stern prophet of sounds to come, but because we have learned to play him. Stephen Rogers Radcliffe, the young American conductor who led the New York Chamber Ensemble Saturday night, understands Schoenberg with rare acuity. Throughout the program, he emphasized the composer's ties to the past: One heard the influence of Brahms, Mahler, even Johann Strauss in his music, and the dissonances were incorporated into a continuum, rather than pounced upon savagely. Jan DeGaetani, the mezzo-soprano in the "Vier Lieder" (adapted for chamber ensemble by Felix Greissle) and the early "Lied der Waldtraube" from "Gurrelieder" is not so secure in the upper register as she once was, but she remains a warm, dignified, emotive and intelligent interpreter. The program — which was based on the Viennese evenings Schoenberg presided over between 1917 and 1921, under the auspices of the Society for Private Musical Performances — also included a new arrangement of Mahler's "Ruckert Lieder" by Philip West. Expertly and idiomatically fashioned, it sounded like an extraction from a quieter portion of one of Mahler's symphonies. The evening began with Hanns Eisler's reduction of Debussy's "Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun" for a remarkably full-sounding ensemble of 11 instruments. / II

Press | Symphonic Reviews

Tuesday, September 15, 1987

Schoenberg’s Thorny Power Demystified

By Tim Page

THE NEW YORK CHAMBER ENSEMBLE Stephen Rogers Radcliffe music director. The New York Woodwind Quintet. The Fine Arts Quartet. Ursula Oppens piano Gwendolyn Mok harmonium Alvin Brehm bass Debussy Hanns Eisler Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. Schoenberg Felix Greissle: Four Songs. Schoenberg. “Lied der Waldtaube” from “Gurrelieder.” Mahler Philip West Ruckert Lieder. Schoenberg. Kammersymphonie (Op. 9). Alice Tully Hall Saturday night.

“IS THIS WHAT they call new music?” asked the woman in front of me Saturday night at Alice Tully Hall, immediately after a performance of Arnold Schoenberg’s “Vier Lieder” (Opus 22), written in 1915. When I replied that it was actually fairly old music by now, she was silent for a moment, then turned again. “And do you really like it?” she asked, a look of befuddlement on her face.

Well, yes, I do; very much indeed. But many do not, and Schoenberg’s later works are no more popular today than they were 25 years ago. A poll conducted by the Schwann record catalog named Schoenberg the least popular composer in the repertory, and one of the few who inspired genuine antipathy from an audience. The fabled day when the masses would accept and love his music as their own — long promised by Schoenberg’s apostles — never came.

Yet the music itself shows no sign of losing its thorny, uncompromising power, and I suspect that it will always command a small audience and a great deal of respect. After more than half a century, it still challenges, still sounds “modern,” still refuses to soften into easy listening. In 1921, Schoenberg asserted that he had “ensured the supremacy of German music for the next 100 years.” It never happened (although who can say what might have come to pass had there never been a war?) and it is entirely possible that Schoenberg will ultimately be regarded as a brilliant eccentric — one of those composers, such as Gesualdo, Berlioz, Sibelius and Varese, who will always stand outside the musical mainstream.

Oddly enough, it is now easier to like Schoenberg than it ever was before — not merely because he is no longer endlessly extolled as a stern prophet of sounds to come, but because we have learned to play him. Stephen Rogers Radcliffe, the young American conductor who led the New York Chamber Ensemble Saturday night, understands Schoenberg with rare acuity. Throughout the program, he emphasized the composer’s ties to the past: One heard the influence of Brahms, Mahler, even Johann Strauss in his music, and the dissonances were incorporated into a continuum, rather than pounced upon savagely.

Jan DeGaetani, the mezzo-soprano in the “Vier Lieder” (adapted for chamber ensemble by Felix Greissle) and the early “Lied der Waldtraube” from “Gurrelieder” is not so secure in the upper register as she once was, but she remains a warm, dignified, emotive and intelligent interpreter.

The program — which was based on the Viennese evenings Schoenberg presided over between 1917 and 1921, under the auspices of the Society for Private Musical Performances — also included a new arrangement of Mahler’s “Ruckert Lieder” by Philip West. Expertly and idiomatically fashioned, it sounded like an extraction from a quieter portion of one of Mahler’s symphonies. The evening began with Hanns Eisler’s reduction of Debussy’s “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun” for a remarkably full-sounding ensemble of 11 instruments. 

New York Newsday TUESDAY, SEPT. 15, 1987 Schoenberg’s Thorny Power Demystified MUSIC REVIEW > THE NEW YORK CHAMBER ENSEMBLE Stephen Rogers Radcliffe music director. The New York Woodwind Quintet. The Fine Arts Quartet. Ursula Oppens piano Gwendolyn Mok harmonium Alvin Brehm bass Debussy Hanns Eisler Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. Schoenberg Felix Greissle: Four Songs. Schoenberg. "Lied der Waldtaube" from "Gurrelieder." Mahler Philip West Ruckert Lieder. Schoenberg. Kammersymphonie (Op. 9). Alice Tully Hall Saturday night. > By Tim Page "IS THIS WHAT they call new music?" asked the woman in front of me Saturday night at Alice Tully Hall, immediately after a performance of Arnold Schoenberg's "Vier Lieder" (Opus 22), written in 1915. When I replied that it was actually fairly old music by now, she was silent for a moment, then turned again. "And do you really like it?" she asked, a look of befuddlement on her face. Well, yes, I do; very much indeed. But many do not, and Schoenberg's later works are no more popular today than they were 25 years ago. A poll conducted by the Schwann record catalog named Schoenberg the least popular composer in the repertory, and one of the few who inspired genuine antipathy from an audience. The fabled day when the masses would accept and love his music as their own — long promised by Schoenberg's apostles — never came. Yet the music itself shows no sign of losing its thorny, uncompromising power, and I suspect that it will always command a small audience and a great deal of respect. After more than half a century, it still challenges, still sounds "modern," still refuses to soften into easy listening. In 1921, Schoenberg asserted that he had "ensured the supremacy of German music for the next 100 years." It never happened (although who can say what might have come to pass had there never been a war?) and it is entirely possible that Schoenberg will ultimately be regarded as a brilliant eccentric — one of those composers, such as Gesualdo, Berlioz, Sibelius and Varese, who will always stand outside the musical mainstream. Oddly enough, it is now easier to like Schoenberg than it ever was before — not merely because he is no longer endlessly extolled as a stern prophet of sounds to come, but because we have learned to play him. Stephen Rogers Radcliffe, the young American conductor who led the New York Chamber Ensemble Saturday night, understands Schoenberg with rare acuity. Throughout the program, he emphasized the composer's ties to the past: One heard the influence of Brahms, Mahler, even Johann Strauss in his music, and the dissonances were incorporated into a continuum, rather than pounced upon savagely. Jan DeGaetani, the mezzo-soprano in the "Vier Lieder" (adapted for chamber ensemble by Felix Greissle) and the early "Lied der Waldtraube" from "Gurrelieder" is not so secure in the upper register as she once was, but she remains a warm, dignified, emotive and intelligent interpreter. The program — which was based on the Viennese evenings Schoenberg presided over between 1917 and 1921, under the auspices of the Society for Private Musical Performances — also included a new arrangement of Mahler's "Ruckert Lieder" by Philip West. Expertly and idiomatically fashioned, it sounded like an extraction from a quieter portion of one of Mahler's symphonies. The evening began with Hanns Eisler's reduction of Debussy's "Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun" for a remarkably full-sounding ensemble of 11 instruments. / II