A Beautiful Singer, a Virtuoso Violinist & an Intrusive Train
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
The Swedish soprano Miah Persson is a pretty big deal in Europe, but not very well-known on these shores. That should change in a hurry. Salzburg audiences not only know her, but adore her. For example, she was a smash in last summer’s production of “Mitridate” (Mozart). And she was fairly smashing in her recital at Weill Recital Hall on Friday night.
(Remember that Weill is the jewellike annex upstairs at Carnegie. There is no more congenial venue in New York, certainly for a voice recital.)
Ms. Persson sang an extremely attractive program, beginning with Mozart, which was right, in part for this reason: Mozart establishes your bona fides. If you can’t sing him, you can’t really sing.And if you can sing him – you are capable of just about anything.
This singer offered probably the four most common Mozart songs, beginning with “Un moto di gioia.”A lot of singers render this cutesily, but Ms. Persson was merely stylish, thank goodness. She has a lyric voice,but it is not a small voice, and it was beautifully substantial in Weill Recital Hall. Ms. Persson is a direct communicator – both in opera and in song – and she was utterly direct in her Mozart.
The last of these songs was “An Chloe,” which was startlingly sensual – you’ve never heard it sexier. But it did not stray from the Mozartean. Ms. Persson’s main problem was intonation, for she had a stubborn case of the flats in the Mozart, as she would all evening long. This was a distraction and, as I’ve said, a problem, but it was far from fatal. Ms. Persson was too musical for that.
After the Mozart came one of the most gratifying song-cycles we have, Schumann’s “Frauenliebe und -leben.” What is required to traverse this cycle successfully? Warmth, nobility, understanding, tenderness, resolve. When sung by certain women, it can seem holy. Kathleen Ferrier sang it this way, and so did her countrywoman and successor, Dame Janet Baker. Of course, the two of them could make a beer-hall song sound holy.
Ms. Persson handled the cycle in a mature, womanly, and touching manner. But best in this cycle was the song “An meinem Herzen, an meiner Brust,” which was not especially mature or womanly, but girlish, giddy, and irresistible.
After intermission, Ms. Persson sang three common Strauss songs, and one that is heard only occasionally: “Ich schwebe.” In all of them, Ms. Persson showed freedom and flexibility, which are requirements for Strauss (and others).
And then she went Swedish, offering six songs in her native language, by the composer Gosta Nystroem (1890-1966). These songs were slightly out of place, amidst Mozart, Schumann, Strauss, and (to end with) Grieg.They are essentially Romantic, although they show the influence of Impressionism, and flirt a little with Modernism. Given their quality, Ms. Persson might have been better off singing three, rather than six. But she sang her Nystroem with obvious affection and sincerity, and you couldn’t fault her national loyalty.
Her Grieg set, she sang knowledgeably and well. The first song, “God Morgen!” contains a bit of coloratura, and Ms. Persson handled this nicely. The fourth and last song was Grieg’s most famous – and one of the most famous in the world – “Ein Traum,” which Ms. Persson sang gloriously. She delivered a couple of stellar A flats, the most operatic notes of the evening.
The modest crowd was immodest in its enthusiasm, and it demanded encores. Ms. Persson obliged with two: Berg’s “Nachtigall” – art-song writers simply can’t leave that poor nightingale alone – and what I would judge the second-most-famous Grieg song, “Jeg elsker Dig” (known in German as “Ich liebe dich”; known in English as “I Love You”).
In sum, Miah Persson is a beautiful singer: beautiful to look at (if I may say), beautiful to listen to, beautiful to spend a recital with. Indeed, this evening seemed too short. I don’t believe I’ve ever written that, and may never again, but there you are.
Honoring the ancient tradition of mentioning the accompanist only in the last line, I will say that Roger Vignoles, the British pianist, performed splendidly, being equaled by few in his field, surpassed by none.
***
On Thursday night, the violinist Leila Josefowicz came by Zankel Hall – downstairs at Carnegie – for a recital with the pianist John Novacek. They pretty much duplicated their recent recording, available from Warner Classics.That recording includes music by Beethoven, Ravel, and Messiaen, and two new pieces: by Esa-Pekka Salonen and Mark Grey.
Ms. Josefowicz and Mr. Novacek began with their Messiaen, a somewhat brave decision. This was the Theme and Variations from 1932. The players reflected this work’s many moods, and they achieved a momentum. Frankly, it’s hard to imagine a better case for the work.
The Beethoven on this program was the Sonata in G major, Op. 96, which is very difficult to begin.The opening is exposed, tricky, and delicate, and many violinists botch it. Ms. Josefowicz didn’t do this, although she was flat, and a little rough. Sometime later, she and Mr. Novacek indulged in some strange pauses, which were unnatural, doing Beethoven no favors. Altogether, they didn’t play this movement as smoothly or lyrically as one might have expected. This music can be like a glassy lake; these performers went in for some choppiness. It must be said, however, that Mr. Novacek produced a beautiful sound on the piano.
Which made it surprising that he banged out the first measures of the slow movement – there was no cause for that. This is one of the most affecting and noble slow movements Beethoven ever wrote. It’s good to report that, on the whole, Ms. Josefowicz and Mr. Novacek judged this movement nicely. Their dynamics, in particular, were true.
The Scherzo should contain a folk simplicity, which it did, and these musicians played confidently. Ms. Josefowicz played confidently even through her flatness, which was recurring.The final movement was rather aggressive – Leila J. is no wallflower – but it was exciting. The players caught some of Beethoven’s humor, too.
Ms. Josefowicz ended the first half of her recital with Mr. Salonen’s piece, an unaccompanied job called “Lachen verlernt” (“Laughing unlearned”). It is a thoughtful piece, but thoughtfulness doesn’t stop the music from building into a frenzy. Mr. Salonen supplies a blizzard of notes, which is typical of him. Ms. Josefowicz played his piece with easy mastery.
And Mark Grey? He is a California composer – I guess the Finnish Mr. Salonen is too, seeing as he is music director of the L.A. Philharmonic – experienced in rock and other “musics,” as we now say. Like “Lachen verlernt,” Mr. Grey’s “San Andreas Suite” is for unaccompanied violin. Though new, it is familiar: full of noodlings, outbursts, sudden quietings. And busy-busy-busy. Lots of contemporary music is like this. But Mr. Grey’s suite is not unworthy, and it happens to be fun: Ms. Josefowicz played it with huge energy, virtuosity, and commitment – hair flying,that sort of thing.
The printed program ended with the Ravel sonata, which – unless I’m hallucinating – is on roughly half the violin recitals one hears these days. That’s okay: It is a very good piece.
The way Mr. Novacek began it was not exactly ethereal or translucent, and when Ms. Josefowicz came in she was not at her cleanest or most sensitive. Some of this movement was awkward, tending to the heavy. But much of it was lovely. The second movement – the ever-popular Blues: Moderato – was very aggressive, even brutal. Ms. Josefowicz and Mr. Novacek were not, to put it mildly, Thibaud and Cortot. But they were undeniably stirring. And the third movement was extremely tense – on a taut string – as well as unflagging. Just what the doctor ordered.
Ms. Josefowicz offered one encore, a surprising and effective one: Claus Ogermann’s arrangement of the Charlie Chaplin song “Smile,” from “Modern Times.” This is one of the saddest songs ever written. From Ms. Josefowicz, it was unbearable, which I mean in a highly complimentary way.
A final word, about the subway – the Zankel Hall subway. Normally, I am (relatively) indifferent to the rumbling in this hall, but on Thursday night it seemed more intrusive than ever, especially in the unaccompanied music. The subway noise wasn’t charming or urban-cool, but simply wrong – the result of a mistake. They have to do something about it. Don’t they?