It is also a good thing that many of the claims about the “correct” way to perform early music that were once accepted as gospel have long been abandoned, but some ideas refuse to die. We are still being lectured that Bach’s vocal music should always be performed with one on a part, regardless of the where, why, or when of the performance. Others tell us that we should not only play eighteenth-century works without vibrato, but the music of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries as well. Kenyon’s article credits Roger Norrington for this idea and praises him for taking “his distinctive quest for period style from Haydn and Mozart as far forward as Mahler and Elgar, eliminating the vibrato that modern string players use,” despite the fact that almost all of the recorded and documentary evidence tells us exactly the opposite.

The historical performance movement also still suffers from a short historical memory. Kozinn’s article, for example, seems to imply that Juilliard’s initiative represents the first time a major music conservatory has made a substantial commitment to the field. Perhaps in New York, but Boston beat them to the punch by several decades. The New England Conservatory was offering courses and an early music degree as early as the 1970s, there was considerable activity at Longy and, if I may be allowed to toot my own horn here (a period one without valves, of course), the curriculum that I created when I established the department of historical performance at Boston University in the 1980s included a course for pianists to study harpsichord and another for modern instrumentalists and singers to perform and study Baroque music.

We can go back even further to find top musicians advocating the historical performance approach. The music publisher Vincent Novello, for example, believed that eighteenth-century compositions should be published “exactly as they were intended to be performed by the Composer.” He wrote that in 1825.

Then there is the myth of the “authentic” performance. Robinson falls into this trap when he claims in his Globe review that the use of period instruments enabled the audience to “hear the Fifth [Symphony] the way Beethoven and his first audience would have heard it.” With all due respect to a fine scholar and writer, it is virtually impossible to hear a piece of music the way the composer and audience heard it. There are just too many factors that can never be duplicated: the purpose of the concert and the different classes of people who attended it, the number and quality of the musicians and their instruments, and the acoustics of the performing space, just to name a few. And let us also include the very ears of the people in the audience. Hearing a concert after a day of being bombarded by TV, radio, car noises, the sounds of electric guitars and a screeching Green Line is quite different from the experience of someone who lived during a low-decibel era when there were few if any machines and only the noise of horse-drawn carriages.

Grader was describing several of these factors when she wrote, “half the very large audience could hardly hear the soloist [since] fortepiani were not built to produce a sound large enough to fill a space the size of Symphony Hall.” So did Joe Whipple when he commented, “Mr. Eggarr and the orchestra did manage to achieve inaudibility in the front row of the curve from right to center of the second balcony.” Herein lies the core of problem. If Beethoven had walked into Symphony Hall for the first rehearsal of this concert, chances are good that he would have taken one look at the huge expanse of the 2000+ seat hall and shouted: we need a bigger piano and more players in the orchestra! It is also doubtful that he would have put his seal of approval on a performance plagued by “an unfortunate number of ragged entrances,” a movement skittering “along at such a pace that the orchestra was dangerously near to falling out of step” or one in which there were some “lamentable squawks from the natural horns,” as several reviewers described. Knowing of Beethoven’s volcanic temper and uncompromising personality, the H&H management might have been tempted to call for the riot police if they didn’t meet the composers expectations.

So let’s stop proclaiming that this performance is an authentic reproduction, and that one is not. Rather, we should congratulate the early music movement for introducing us to some wonderful repertoire, recognize the refreshing insights into performance practice it has provided, and sit back and enjoy it. And the next time you salute an emperor, it might be a good idea to make sure he is wearing some clothes.

Mark Kroll will be lecturing and performing in Bratislava, Slovakia this May for its International Conference on Franz Liszt. He will be speaking about the transcriptions of Beethoven symphonies by Liszt and Hummel, and playing two of them on an 18th-century fortepiano—but in an 18^th-century concert hall.

It was evident from the opening notes of the “Sinfony” that the orchestra was in fine technical form; the strings in particular, with guest concertmaster Christina Day Martinson serving in the traditional role of “Leader,” have never sounded better. Nevertheless, I was a little disappointed to discover that the orchestra was still playing in the dry, clipped, non-vibrato style that passes for historical performance in many circles these days, despite the fact that the historical and musical evidence for it is slim at best, and certainly not applicable uniformly to all styles and genres. The human voice was held up during the Baroque era as the ideal model for instrumentalists, who were constantly being told to listen to singers and play like they sang. Happily, Christophers began to urge his own players to do just that, and by the second part of the oratorio the orchestra was actually creating a sustained legato and sometimes matching the singing lines of the chorus and soloists.

The solo singers were all first-class. Soprano Sophie Bevan’s extraordinary breath control enabled her to lighten her voice and perform coloratura passages with crystal clarity. Alto Catherine Wyn-Rogers started out with a limited expressive range and some shaky intonation (the fact that the organ and harpsichord seemed to be tuned in two different temperaments didn’t help matters), but any reservations were swept aside by her brilliant and riveting performance of the aria “He was despised.” Singing from memory — a rare treat in an oratorio performance — Wyn-Rogers was able to communicate the meaning and feeling of every word in this deeply moving aria. The men, tenor Allan Clayton and baritone Sumner Thompson, also have fine voices, and one looks forward to hearing them again after they have a bit more experience and seasoning. Surprisingly for a performance billed as “historically informed,” the soloists were quite understated in their use of ornamentation, but what they did use was tasteful and lovely.

The H&H chorus was nothing less than one virtuoso instrument. Their diction was impeccable, their sound was glorious, and they had no problem matching Christophers’ fast tempi note for note. He also conducted with a fine sense of dramatic pacing, reminding the audience that Handel brought to Messiah decades of experience as an opera composer. Christophers also knows the words of this great work, feels them deeply—and wants his listeners to do the same. Most specialists in the field acknowledge that rhetoric and rhetorical gestures are important aspects of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century performance practice, but few actually make it part of their performances. Christophers did last night. A noteworthy example was the chorus “Lift up your heads,” in which the singers asked “Who is this King of Glory?” as an actual question, and answered it emphatically with “The Lord of Hosts.”

In 1831, Ignaz Moscheles, the great Romantic piano virtuoso and a pioneer in historical performance practice, made the following entry in his diary after reading about a performance of Handel’s Messiah: “I swallowed my dinner hastily, so as not to miss a note of this masterpiece.” Those who ate their dinner quickly last Friday would have also made the right choice. This Messiah was not to be missed.

Mark Kroll is professor emeritus at Boston University, where he founded the Department of Historical Performance and served as its chairman. He celebrates the 40th anniversary of his professional debut as a harpsichordist in 2011.

That said, there were a few ensemble and intonation problems in the overture and opening scene, as well as some scary moments at various points in the opera when the singers and the orchestra occupied different time zones. Nevertheless, maestro Rose was able to recover quickly and bring everything back on track, offering us an interpretation that was solid and professional, although somewhat lacking in dramatic energy. The orchestra in an opera, especially one written by that great symphonist Beethoven who could tell a story without words, should participate in the action, not merely accompany it.

Scott Bearden as Don Pizarro and Andrew Funk as Rocco with unnamed female prisoner (Clive Grainger photo)

Despite the fine singing and playing, however, the evening was not a complete success. The problem was the production itself. Stage director and scenic designer Thaddeus Strassberger certainly gave us some beautiful things to see, but much of the staging and scenery seemed to have little if any connection to the actual story, a powerful tale of corruption, injustice, torture, heroism and ultimate redemption that takes place in a fetid prison.

For example, Act I was set in the large room of what appears to be a beautiful palace, with marble floors, gold decorations, elegant furniture and large paintings of church leaders on the walls. The only way the audience would know that they were watching a scene in a prison, and a horrible one at that, was a set of bars hanging from the ceiling that was lowered at strategic moments in the action. More troublesome, however, was the action itself, which seemed to have little relation to what the protagonists were thinking, feeling, or even just saying. This became apparent in the very first scene in which the jailer Rocco’s daughter Marzelline is trying to deflect the amorous advances of the doorkeeper Jaquino, who won’t take no for an answer. At one point in their duet Marzelline sings, in obvious frustration: “I’ll try not to give him any encouragement, and maybe he will just go away.” What, then, would prompt her to remove her outer garments in front of Jaquino and reveal her pretty negligee or nightgown?

Similar discrepancies and disconnects plagued much of this production, but perhaps the most serious miscalculation occurred at what many consider to be the most famous moment in the opera: the Prisoners’ Chorus, in which Fidelio has convinced Rocco to release the prisoners so that they might enjoy a few moments of sunlight, fresh air and freedom. This scene, with its poignant expression of Enlightenment ideals, was so popular and evoked such a powerful reaction that audiences repeatedly demanded it to be encored throughout the 19th century. Inexplicably,  Strassberger staged this crucial moment inside the elegant room, and one had to wonder why the tortured and starved inmates would emerge from their cells and sing “oh fresh air, oh beautiful sunlight” in a dark room that didn’t even have a window to let in the air and sunshine.

More the pity, because this performance of Beethoven’s great opera had almost all the other elements to make it a great production: wonderful singing and playing. It would, in fact, have been perfect as a concert version of the opera.

Mark Kroll will be performing a clavichord recital on November 5 sponsored by the Boston Clavichord Society, and a harpsichord recital on November 11 at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester. He will also be presenting a paper on Moscheles and Handel at the annual meeting of the American Musicological Society in Indianapolis on November 7, and is currently writing a biography of Moscheles for Boydell and Brewer Press.

In music, Franz Liszt has long been a favorite whipping boy, his music and career often consigned to the cellar of empty virtuosity. But the critics have been as wrong about Liszt as they were about Moe, Larry and Curly (or Shemp). He was certainly a brilliant virtuoso, but he could also be a visionary innovator who explored or invented new forms and genres, and even dipped his toe into the pool (or swamp for some people) of atonality during the last years of his life. I was therefore pleased that the Newton Symphony Orchestra devoted almost an entire program on Oct. 3 at the former Rashi Auditorium in Newton to Liszt in celebration of the 200th anniversary of his birth, and I was not disappointed. The orchestra, which is composed of dedicated amateurs reinforced by some strategically placed professionals, rose to the occasion. Under the firm but gentle control of Music Director James M Orent, his musicians played this demanding repertoire with skill, commitment and obvious enjoyment, and gave the small but enthusiastic audience a concert to remember.

The program did not open with Liszt, however, but rather with Beethoven’s Leonore Overture No. 3, op. 72b. Now what was a work by Beethoven doing on a Liszt birthday concert? It was, in fact, an excellent choice. Liszt adored Beethoven throughout his life, and it is no accident that almost every portrait of Liszt in his studio features a bust of Beethoven looking over his shoulder. The Newton Symphony’s performance of the Leonore Overture started out a little tentatively, with some shaky intonation and ensemble, but it quickly settled into a groove of solid playing that they maintained throughout the entire evening.

The remainder of the program was vintage Liszt: the Piano Concertos No. 1 in E-flat Major, S. 124 and No. 2 in A Major, S. 125, the Hungarian Battle March, S. 119, and the symphonic poem Les Préludes, S. 97. Liszt wrote twelve symphonic poems between 1853 and 1861, and his works in the genre would go on to influence those by Tchaikovsky, Strauss and Sibelius. Les Preludes is the best known of the group (readers who are old enough might remember that it was the theme music for the old TV serial Flash Gordon), and the orchestra performed it beautifully. The brass was especially powerful, but thanks to Orent, they never overbalanced the rest of the orchestra.

The program also included two other Liszt warhorses: the piano concertos. Although these were first performed in the 1850s, Liszt was sketching them as early as 1830, when he was tearing up the concert halls of Europe with the brilliance of his piano playing, his seemingly inexhaustible charisma, and a great profile that made audiences swoon. The concertos, however, are not mere displays of empty virtuosity; they are also good examples of Liszt’s ability to maintain a sense of organic unity within large forms and structures. This is especially true for the second concerto, as it is for Liszt’s masterpiece, the Piano Sonata in B minor. That said, you still need a big pianist with a big technique to play these difficult works, and we heard one at this concert: Oleksandr Poliykov. Technical difficulties seem to disappear under his hands, and he dispatched these great showpieces with aplomb and a big, warm and beautiful sound. This is a young pianist to watch, and admire.

There had to be at least one “Hungarian” piece for Liszt’s birthday, and the program featured an unfamiliar work in the genre, the Hungarian Battle March. Liszt’s fellow Hungarians were always proud of their native son, and applauded his vivid musical evocations of their culture. The Newton audience can be equally proud of their orchestra, and gave it a well-deserved standing ovation.

Mark Kroll recently performed at the Hummel Festival in Bordeaux, France and presented a paper at the International British Music Conference in Southampton, England. He is currently preparing the edition of Francesco Geminiani’s Sonatas for Violin, op. 4 for the complete edition of the composer’s works.

The first concert, at 4 pm in Ochre Court, featured music by Russian composers. I’ll use their full names here, as they were listed in the program book: Anton Grigoryevich Rubinstein, Modest Petrovich Mussorgsky, Mily Alexeyevich Balakirev, Alexander Porfiryevich Borodin, César Cui, and Nikolay Andreyevich Rimsky-Korsakov. The concert opened with a performance of Rubinstein’s Cello Sonata no. 2 in G Major, op. 39 by the Czech cellist Jirí Bárta and Spanish pianist Daniel del Pino. Rubinstein was one of the great virtuosos of the 19th century, a powerhouse of a pianist and an indomitable force in the music world. I wish he could also be counted among the great pianist-composers of the era, such as his contemporaries Hummel, Liszt and Grieg, or his Russian successor Rachmaninoff. He cannot. The Rubinstein cello sonata is, to be frank, a second-class composition, but this did not stop Bárta and del Pino from giving it a first-class performance. Bárta’s sound is rich and big, and his intonation excellent (no mean feat, considering the heat and humidity that sat on the performers and their instruments like a wet sponge). Del Pino’s piano playing is equally virtuosic, and we had a chance to hear further proof of it after intermission, when he gave a vivid performance of a little-known Scherzo by Mussorgsky.

The remainder of the concert also featured unfamiliar repertoire. Indeed, one of the great virtues of the Newport Music Festival is its penchant for adventurous programming, and this concert was no exception. Here we heard little-known songs by the Russian group known as The Mighty Five (i.e., Mussorgsky, Balakirev, Borodin, Cui, and Rimsky-Korsakov), and they were a revelation. So was the singing of the Russian-born baritone Anton Belov, supported in every detail by the excellent pianist Michael Endres. Belov boasts of a large and lyrical baritone; this, and his expressive interpretations of the poetry and winning personality made this performance a delight. Particularly memorable was his realization of Balakirev’s evocation of authentic cantorial incantations in the song The Jewish Melody. If this performance is any indication, Belov’s star is one to watch.

After dodging lightning bolts and monsoon downpours in search of a restaurant, we made our way to the Breakers for the evening concert at 9 pm. Drying off in Mr. Vanderbilt’s architectural splendor, a space that would have made a Medici feel right at home, we were treated to another superb concert by two more bona-fide virtuosos: the Russian cellist Sergey Antonov and the Canadian pianist Kevin Fitz-Gerald. The high point for this reviewer was Samuel Barber’s Sonata for Cello and Piano, op. 6, a work written in 1932 and premiered in 1933 with the cellist Orlando Cole at a concert of the League of Composers in New York City. Barber deserves to be counted among the great American composers, such as Ives, Copland, Piston, Bernstein and Carter. But except for the iconic Adagio for Strings, much of Barber’s music, with its personal mixture of lyricism and conservative modernism, remains neglected or rarely performed. It was therefore gratifying to see that the hundredth anniversary of Barber’s birth was being celebrated at Newport, and that one of his early compositions, the cello sonata, was performed with skill and commitment by two excellent young musicians.

I should add that this year’s festival began on an extremely sad note. Mark P. Malkovich, III, the guiding force behind the Newport Music Festival for 35 years, died in a car accident on May 30. Fortunately, the Festival, in form and spirit, is now in the hands of his son, Mark Malkovich, IV, who will surely maintain its standards and continue to raise them higher. The Festival continues through July 25 — and we look forward to next year.

Mark Kroll, a harpsichordist  and fortepianist well known to Boston music audiences, has toured extensively as performer, lecturer, and leader of master classes in Europe, South America, the Balkans, and the Middle East. His most recent book is Johann Nepomuk Hummel: A Musician and His World.

Everyone loves a Requiem. That might seem a strange, maybe even tasteless thing to say about a Mass for the Dead. But the text, with its descriptions of the Day of Judgment, trumpets blaring and the earth a-sundering, its pleas for forgiveness and salvation, and the ultimate expressions of heavenly redemption, has proven irresistible to composers. A prime example is Berlioz, who called for a cast of thousands in his Requiem, including no fewer than four brass orchestras stationed at each compass point in the church to frighten his Paris listeners right back into confessional. Verdi also could not resist the dramatic possibilities of the requiem—he was an opera composer, after all—and wrote a Requiem for the ages.

The world of opera is not far from this sacred work. Verdi in fact, actually used some music from one of his operas (the duet “Qui me rendra ce mort? Ô funèbres abîmes!” from Act IV of Don Carlos) for the “Lacrymosa” that concludes the Sequence of the Requiem. Aida, which Verdi had composed just three years before the Requiem, is an even more palpable presence, and it was probably no accident that he chose the four soloists who had all sung the European premiere of Aida in 1872—Teresa Stolz, Maria Waldmann, Giuseppe Coppini (who had to be replaced because of illness), and Ormando Maini—for the premiere of the Requiem in Milan on May 22, 1874.

I would like to think that Verdi would have been equally pleased by the wonderful performance of this “opera in ecclesiastical robes,” as the 19th-century conductor Hans von Bülow once described the Requiem, which was presented by the Masterwork Chorale at Sanders Theater this past Sunday, March 14. Conductor Steven Karidoyanes clearly knows this piece, and loves it, and he led the considerable forces at his disposal with an impressive technique and a fine sense of dramatic pacing. The chorus sang magnificently for him, with a full and rich sound, solid intonation, power when needed (such as in the opening of the Sanctus) and excellent ensemble, despite the fact that they were spread out over the entire width of the stage. The vocal soloists- Eleni Calenos (soprano), Joanna Porackova (mezzo-soprano), Jason McStoots (tenor), and Tom O’Toole (bass/baritone) were also fine, but kudos must go to the ladies: Calenos, who boasts of a gorgeous soprano voice and great control that made Verdi’s melodies soar into the heavens, would be welcome on any operatic stage; and Porackova, who used her impressive instrument to full dramatic effect.

The other “soloist” in this or any work by Verdi is the orchestra, and they deserve special praise. The string section, although small in numbers, produced a sound that would have been the envy of an orchestra twice its size, and played with superb ensemble and intonation. The wind sections performed on the same level, including some virtuoso solos by flutist Sue-Ellen Hershman-Tcherepnin, clarinetist Diane Heffner and bassoon principal Janet Underhill. And don’t forget the percussion. Verdi never did, and no work of his can ever be successful without some excellent timpani and bass drum playing. John Grimes and Patrick Litterst delivered the goods—with a bang.

Mark Kroll, a well-known Boston harpsichordist and fortepianist, tours extensively as performer, lecturer, and leader of master classes in Europe, South America, the Balkans, and the Middle East. He has an extensive discography and list of publications, and has a website here.

The duo opened with Mozart’s Sonata for Violin and Piano in F major, K. 376. Mozart’s violin sonatas, which come out of the 18th-century tradition of “keyboard sonatas with violin accompaniment,” were conceived as small-scale works, and they may be just a bit too small for Perlman’s big style of playing. This style worked to perfection, however, with Franck’s Sonata for Violin and Piano in A major, M. 8, a great romantic warhorse that closed the first half of the program. Franck had composed this work in 1886 as a wedding present for another legendary violinist, the Belgian violinist Eugène Ysaÿe, who actually played it on his wedding day. (There are no reports on what Ysaÿe’s bride-to-be was doing at the time, or what she thought about this part of the marriage ceremony.) Perlman played the sonata with all the intensity of an excited groom, and a romantic-era one at that. There were some delicious 19th-century slides in the second movement, and the superb communication and ensemble between the violinist and his pianist de Silva enabled both to indulge in a rhythmic freedom and expressive playing that made this performance of the Franck as good as it gets.

The second half of the program (the printed one, that is) was devoted to Debussy’s Sonata for Violin and Piano (1917), the third in a planned series of Six Sonates pour divers instruments. Debussy had already published the first for cello and piano, and the second (flute, viola and harp), but his fourth would have been the most exciting for this writer, since it was to be scored for oboe, horn and harpsichord! Alas, Debussy never wrote this work or any other; he died of cancer in 1918, making the violin sonata his final composition. Perlman gave a virtuoso performance of the Sonata, but like in the Mozart, he was sometimes too rough for this elegant French confection. For example, some passages in the first movement were taken at such a fast tempo that much detail got lost and the intonation suffered.

Quibbles aside, this was a masterful performance given by two masters of their instruments, both perfectly attuned to each other. It also set the stage for the “second” concert of this concert—a generous helping of seven encores that included some of the favorite bon-bons of the violin repertoire, such as Fritz Kreisler’s “Chanson Louis XIII in the Style of Couperin,” Joseph Joachim’s arrangement of Brahms’ “Hungarian Dance No. 2” and the theme from John Williams’ “Schindler’s List.” Perlman enjoyed announcing these encores from the stage and obviously enjoyed playing them as well.  His listeners certainly enjoyed hearing them, and left Symphony Hall satisfied and smiling.

Mark Kroll, a well-known Boston harpsichordist and fortepianist, tours extensively as performer, lecturer, and leader of master classes in Europe, South America, the Balkans, and the Middle East. He has an extensive discography and list of publications, and has a website here.

Pro Musicis followed the North Star to Boston last Saturday evening, January 23, to launch its annual concert series here with one of the winners of its International Award—the pianist Maya Hartman, at Pickman Concert Hall, Longy School of Music. It was an auspicious beginning. Ms. Hartmann’s credentials as a virtuoso pianist were fully evident, but she displayed them with quiet assurance and command. No extraneous movement or flying body parts here; Hartman doesn’t need them. She keeps her hands close to the keys, remains calm and poised at the instrument, and lets her fingers and the music do all the walking and talking.

Her choice of program was excellent as well. It began with the Boston premiere of Noam Sivan’s Improvisations on Two Bach Chorales, a quirky set of riffs on Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” and “Sheep May Safely Graze,” with a few other familiar Bach tunes thrown in for good measure. This was followed by a fascinating juxtaposition of etudes by Sergei Rachmaninoff (the Etudes-tableaux Op. 39, nos. 1, 3 and 5) and György Ligeti’s Etudes, Book I (number 4, “Fanfares” and number 5, “Arc-en-ciel”). These two sets are arguably the best piano etudes written in the 20th century, and certainly some of the most difficult. Ms. Hartman dispatched them with aplomb. The first half closed with a somewhat colorless reading of Haydn’s Fantasie in C Major, H. XVII: 4, but after intermission we were treated to one of Elliott Carter’s finest compositions from his late period (or would that be middle, or early middle? It is hard to tell with this 101 year-old composer, who is still writing great music). “90+ for Goffredo Petrassi” was composed in 1994 to celebrate the birthday of another youngster, the nonagenarian Petrassi, and as Dr. Richard E. Rodda quotes Carter in his excellent program notes, it was “built around ninety short, accented notes played in a slow regular beat…against which the context changes character continually.” Hartman played more than ninety notes, many more, and again with ease.

The program closed with Chopin’s Sonata in B-flat minor, op. 35, after which Ms. Hartman graciously singled out the Executive Director of Pro Musicis, John Haag, for his 20 years of devoted service to this noble organization. According to the notes, Pro Musicis has “presented its artists in more than 1,800 concerts in Europe, Asia and North America.” We can all look forward to the next concert, in Boston on February 13, which features another Pro Musicis winner, Lydia Artymiw.

Mark Kroll, a well-known Boston harpsichordist and fortepianist, tours extensively as performer, lecturer, and leader of master classes in Europe, South America, the Balkans, and the Middle East. He has an extensive discography and list of publications, and has a website here.

Amanda Forsythe and Ewa Podles

There was bel canto in abbondanza at Opera Boston’s production of Rossini’s Tancredi at the Cutler Majestic Theater on Friday night, October 23. Every member of the cast boasted a gorgeous voice, and knew how to use it. Amanda Forsythe as Amenaide set the bar high from the outset with a lovely soprano and an impressive control of the highest pianissimos. Ewa Podles was overwhelming as Tancredi; her contralto voice is still rich, strong and agile, and the power of her low notes would make some tenors and baritones jealous. Yeghishe Manucharyan (Argirio) used his beautiful tenor to great dramatic effect, bass Dong Won Kim’s commanding vocal and physical presence was ideal for his portrayal of Orbazzano, and mezzo-sopranos Glorivy Arroyo and Victoria Avetisyan sang the supporting parts of Roggiero and Isaura with authority and sonority. The chorus, which occupies an important role in this opera, was superb. Their sound was rich (and in tune!), and the ensemble was just about perfect, except for one moment in the second act when their enthusiasm got the best of them and they began to enter a different time zone than that of the orchestra. Conductor Gil Rose had no problem in quickly putting things back in order, and he led the entire opera with skill, a thorough understanding of the score, and a sensitive hand. His orchestra responded with beautiful playing.

But Opera is not only about great singing; it should also be great drama. Unfortunately, what we saw did not match the level of what we heard. Carol Bailey’s sets and costumes, which placed the opera in the mid-1930s, were effective and neither detracted nor added much to the action. Kristine McIntyre’s staging, however, was too static. Most of the time a singer would basically stand in place and face the audience when he or she had an aria to sing, or what is cynically called in the business the “park and bark” approach. There was certainly no barking in this production, but a bit too much parking. This resulted in a limited range of action or reaction, and prevented the characters from establishing deep emotional connections between each other, or with the audience. The tempos also tended to be on the slow side, and the dynamic range was often not wide enough. What was missing was that wonderful sense of energy, excitement and constant motion that is a Rossini opera.

A group of noblemen used to get together in 16^th-century Florence, probably over a good bottle of Tuscan wine, and complain about the current state of music. They decided to do something about it by inventing an entirely new genre: “opera.” They didn’t call it that at first; they dubbed it “a drama set to music,” and that is still what opera has to be.

Mark Kroll, a harpsichordist  and fortepianist well known to Boston music audiences, has toured extensively as performer, lecturer, and leader of master classes in Europe, South America, the Balkans, and the Middle East. His most recent book is Johann Nepomuk Hummel: A Musician and His World. His website is www.markkroll.com

Dong Won Kim (both photos by Clive Grainger)

There were no riots at the Musica Viva concert “All-American Grooves” on September 25 at the Tsai Performance Center, but there was plenty of approval — and for good reason. The performances were first-rate. Music Director Richard Pittman led his superb ensemble — Ann Bobo (Flute), William Kirkley (Clarinet), Robert Schulz (Percussion), Geoffrey Burleson (Piano), Bayla Keyes (Violin), Jan Müller-Szeraws (Cello) and Pamela Dellal (Mezzo- soprano) — with skill and understanding, and his players responded in kind, with virtuosity, commitment and musical mastery.

The program opened with Michael Gandolfi’s Grooved Surfaces, a wonderful piece written by this gifted composer in 1996. As the program notes described, and as Gandolfi amplified in his engaging pre-performance comments, this work “…is the result of my study of a type of a particular type of Ghanaian music known as ‘Adowa.’  I utilized a typical Adowa drum-ensemble rhythm in which two instruments (here, the pizzicato ‘cello and left-hand piano) mimic the role of the shakes (the drum-ensemble instrument that provides a steady rhythmical underpinning).” The first movement, Frame Shifting, was mesmerizing in its use of shape shifting repetition. Movement II, Pitching Rotation, which “is based on a pentatonic scale that slowly rotates through all transpositions, several times, until it returns to its original key and voicing,” fully exploited the minimalist textures, creating a kaleidoscope of colors. The energetic Flipsides that concluded the work was played brilliantly by the ensemble, pianist Geoffrey Burleson dispatching the complicated piano part with aplomb.

The Seven Ages by the renowned composer John Harbison followed. Written in 2009 and receiving its first Boston performance at this concert, the work is based on six poems by Louise Glück that are at the same time magnificent, terrifying, depressing and bittersweet. I share Harbison’s opinion that the poet’s “words are clear, strongly placed, deeply felt, vivid—all the things needed to suggest rhythm, melody, and a kind of  ‘symphonic’ structure.” There were many nice touches. One of the best songs, the fifth, “Summer Night,” used a jaunty rhythm and vivid instrumental colors that might have mirrored the poet’s conflicting emotions:  “So many urgent journeys conceived on summer nights…The tickets never bought, the letters never stamped…life, in a sense, never completely lived…Why should my poems not imitate my life?” Pamela Dellal sang all with a rich mezzo-soprano, excellent diction and a complete understanding of the words, creating a performance that was indeed vivid and deeply felt.  The only caveat is that her placement on stage, essentially inside the ensemble and not in front, sometimes caused her to be overbalanced by the instruments.

The second half opened with a world premier, Richard Cornell’s Images (2009). Cornell tells us that in the first movement – The warring of sparrows –he was “…mimicking a large class of young sparrows that have taken over the neighborhood near my studio…their collective chattering, fluttering, and occasional screaming.” How do you evoke an image of dueling sparrows?  The opening duet between piano and drums was particularly effective. Movement II – Star laden sky—is, according to Cornell, an example of his “research into chromaticism.” Unfortunately, it came off just like that: an unattractive research exercise, without engaging the listener. On the other hand, maybe this just means that war will always be more interesting than peaceful reflection.

Elliott Carter’s Triple Duo (1982/83) concluded the program. What more can be said about this iconic composer, a man who has written more than 40 works during the past decade alone (between ages of 90 and 100), and who has given us numerous masterpieces for almost a century. One of these, the Sonata for Flute, Oboe, Cello and Harpsichord, is a work for which I am personally grateful. Composed 57 years ago, it has become a staple of the harpsichordist’s repertory (including mine), and a perennial audience favorite. So is the Triple Duo, a “…free fantasy [that] involves various contrasts, conflicts and reconciliations between the three duos.”

Only time will tell which of the works on this program will be considered an old chestnut in 50 years. Viva Musica Viva for giving us the opportunity to hear them first.

Mark Kroll, a harpsichordist  and fortepianist well known to Boston music audiences, has toured extensively as performer, lecturer, and leader of master classes in Europe, South America, the Balkans, and the Middle East. His most recent book is Johann Nepomuk Hummel: A Musician and His World. His website is www.markkroll.com