A Memorable 90th Birthday Party

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The New York Sun

‘Tis the season for 90th birthday celebrations. A week ago, the pianist Earl Wild celebrated his 90th birthday with a recital in Carnegie Hall. (It was a good recital – a remarkably good recital – too.) And two nights ago, the composer George Perle was feted, with a concert in Zankel Hall, downstairs at Carnegie. Mr. Perle turned 90 last May – but we are still in his 90th birthday year. Monday night’s program consisted of seven Perle works, the earliest composed in 1945, the most recent in 1998. Mr. Perle was present in the hall, applauding the performances gently and – I thought – appreciatively.


This composer was born in Bayonne, N.J., in 1915 – two years before America entered the First World War. He is seven years younger than Elliott Carter, who has been in concert halls a lot this season (I mean, personally). Mr. Perle gained renown as a composer, teacher, and scholar. His 1962 book “Serial Composition and Atonality” is a classic in the field. He is, in particular, an authority on Alban Berg.


Before the concert began, Ara Guzelimian, artistic advisor at Carnegie Hall, came out to speak about Mr. Perle. I think modern music is flattered when it is unaccompanied by talk, but Mr. Guzelimian is an excellent talker, as he was on this occasion. Besides, it was appropriate to welcome and hail the honoree, and not just with music. Mr. Guzelimian said that Mr. Perle was once asked which composers of the 20th century he admired. Mr. Perle gave but five names: Schoenberg, Berg, Webern, Stravinsky, and Bartok. A parsimonious list.


The first piece on the program was a recent one: Song Without Words from “Chansons cachees”(1996),for flute and piano. This is a dreamy little song, simple and well crafted. It was played tastefully by the flutist Tara Helen O’Connor and the pianist Molly Morkoski.


Mr. Perle’s Lyric Piece for cello and piano was written in 1946. (I pause to note the arbitrariness of titles in music: Song Without Words, Lyric Piece, Ballade, Nocturne, Prelude, whatever.) This, too, is a fairly simple, thoughtful, well-crafted piece. Priscilla Lee was the cellist, and Ms. Morkoski was again the pianist. Ms. Morkoski, in particular, played with rhythmic acuteness and tonal sensitivity.


Next we had a ballade, written for the pianist Richard Goode in 1981. Mr. Goode was in the audience, but he was not on the stage. The ballade was played by Jonathan Biss, who displayed his customary fluid technique. I thought this account was a hair over pedaled, and I wondered whether Mr. Biss could have memorized the piece – but he did credit to it. As for the piece itself, I believe that it goes on rather long for what it has to say. I’m afraid it strikes me as so much modernist noodling.


“Sonata a quattro” (1982) is for flute, clarinet, violin, and cello. More mystery of titles: Could this as easily be called a quartet? We trust the composer has his reasons. Most notable about this work is its third movement, called Nocturne, which is a song – yes, a night song, one can hear that – for flute. The Finale brings “spirited four play.” That was the pun of Paul Griffiths, in his (interesting and stylish) program notes for the evening. I might point out that music can be spirited while, at the same time, dull. In my view, Mr. Perle does not entirely escape this dullness.


The four players onstage breathed nicely together, and were particularly good in their observation of rests. The clarinetist ,Alan R.Kay, was remarkably fluent, and produced a beautifully masculine tone.


After intermission came Hebrew Melodies (two) for solo cello, written in 1945, not an insignificant year. The cello seems especially suited for Hebrew songs, wails, and murmurings – think Ernest Bloch – and Priscilla Lee handled hers ably.


Then we had a special treat: In the long, trying period in which he was playing with the left hand alone, Leon Fleisher prevailed on many composers to write for him, and one was Mr. Perle. The composer came up with “Musical Offerings” (1998), a three-movement work having to do with administrative upheaval at the Tanglewood Music Center. (I rely on Mr. Griffiths’s notes for this inside baseball.) Mr. Fleisher himself came to Zankel to play the music, which he did with his usual command and judgment – extraordinary. After he was through, he bowed elegantly to the composer.


The concert ended with the String Quartet No. 5, a highly accomplished work, even inspired in spots. The first movement is pleasantly swinging; the last movement is on little cat feet. A nifty composition. The Daedalus Quartet played it admirably, with true integration.


The audience – which included more than the usual number of music professionals – was on its feet, applauding. The quartet kept returning for bows (they could not be blamed), but the applause was for the small, old man, stooped in his seat, barely able to raise his hands. A memorable experience. May we all be so appreciated at 90, or anytime.


The New York Sun

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