Tonight was the first in this summer’s Concerts in the Park, hosted by the New York Philharmonic. Picture the scene: an oasis of green spread out against the majestic skyscrapers of Manhattan’s skyline. A concert stage set up on the Great Lawn, thousands of eager fans arriving hours in advance to reserve a spot on the grass.

The lineup was promising, with the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra backing up Ying Huang (soprano), Changyong Liao (baritone) and Lang Lang (piano). The programme was intriguing, ranging from Tchaikovsky to Ravel to Wagner to Gershwin. The crowd was alight with anticipation; the weather, initially threatening, cleared. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, there was the performance. The Shanghai Symphony Orchestra held up its end of the bargain, with a particularly strong showing among the woodwinds and brass (the strings sounded a little suffocated and raspy in the humidity). The performances were competent, if not inspired. The featured soloists were another matter. They had rich, rounded voices, and were completely unable to hit any notes in their respective higher registers. If they played darts like they sang, they would be somewhere well off the dartboard, perhaps with a dart embedded in a bar patron’s head. They seemed to aim in the general direction of a note and let go. The one duet they sang, which was within a normal range, actually was almost pleasantly in tune and on key, except at the dramatic ending.

But fear not: Lang Lang was next, the featured pianist in Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. What could be more fitting in New York City than that quintessential composition? With Lang Lang’s verve and technical prowess, how could it be anything less than spectacular?

And yet it was a lugubrious, lopsided, almost petulant Rhapsody, with only flashes of spirit and brilliance. To say it gently, the tempo was unorthodox, ranging from a sleepy lento to at best a crippled andantino. One begins to wonder if the nominal stars of these shows bother to practice before making their journeys here: several passages were wrong, in spite of the presence of a score on the piano (an almost sure sign of sight-reading), and the interpretation was uninspired at best and laboured at worst. Lang Lang’s flair for the dramatic was on full display in the worst possible way, without any hints of humour or whimsy, but full out attempts at misplaced drama.

In spite of this, the crowd (with a significant number of Chinese) gave a standing ovation: nationalistic pride for their star pianist or mere enthusiasm? Certainly the performance was lacking. The encore was most practiced and fluid, special because it was clearly dear to the performer’s heart and unpretentious. But it was not enough to offset the otherwise disappointing performance in the park tonight.

The worst part of this translocation south of the border, I was told, was not going to be the customs officials at the US border, or the 8-hour drive, or the few comforts of the U-Haul van, or the sheer amount of material that had to be moved. While difficult to bear, these hurdles were mere molehills, nay, anthills to the Kilimanjaro of the most feared aspect of our move.

How would our cats react?

A casual search on Google quickly confirms that moving with pets can be a painful experience. Our apartment-bound cats only enter the car to see the vet, which they invariably equate with scary veterinarians and sharp needles. They are away from their usual environments, deprived of familiar sights, sounds and smells and assaulted by bizarre and potentially frightening stimuli. The Significant Other, who had previously moved with these two cats, repeatedly detailed prior moves, their scatological results and resultant psychological scars.

Anticipating these horrors, we ventured forth to gather equipment and advice. Cat carriers were acquired — this was a more difficult task than originally anticipated. Dog carriers abound but precious few are marked for cats. We left them out and occasionally tempted the captives inside with treats. We went through a bag of treats before one of them (Dade) cottoned on and refused to enter the carriers altogether. (That or she was repulsed by an offering of turkey sausage; she has refined culinary tastes.)

We tried unsuccessfully to drug the wee (and not so wee) beasties, but they decided that they did not like fruit-flavoured baby gravol even when mixed liberally with yogourt, cat treats and butter.

Vaccinations were also in order, although I don’t understand why indoors cats need rabies vaccine. True, occasionally they try to escape. The various governmental websites sent mixed messages; anecdotal evidence was also contradictory. So they had a visit from the vet and received their shots and certificates.

Finally the day of the move arrived. We loaded the truck, finished cleaning the apartment and turned out the lights. Because of his greater experience, the SO was left with the task of corralling and transporting the cats. All I had to do was sit in the cab of the truck, which had been previously lined with a comforter familiar to them, and stop them from escaping. Easy, right?

It turned out reasonably well. Mishka came first and immediately leaped into my bare arms and let loose a barrage of sounds, best described as a cross between a yowl and a hiss. He panted, arched his back, bared his canines, hissed at the windows (perhaps he could see his reflection in the glass). When she arrived, Dade joined in, and they both kept it up for half an hour before the sounds diminished and finally stopped. Somewhat to our surprise, they decided to settle in and fell asleep, and at one point relaxed enough to munch on some cat treats.

Again, somewhat to my surprise, they settled in reasonably well in the new apartment. They have managed to take over the sole bedroom and Mishka has struck up an ongoing relationship with several birds, who taunt him on a daily basis. They are indifferent to the fact that they are now denizens of one of the world’s great cities. Oh well.

It is with great regret that we must announce to our faithful readership (sorry, Mom) that stewardship of this website has been transferred to an American corporate entity, which by terms of our contract must remain unnamed. This occurred in spite of fierce competition from foreign international groups seeking to diversify from their main interests (primarily pharmaceuticals and adult entertainment).

At this point, our new patrons have not fully clarified how this will impact upon the subject material, quantity and quality of this authoritative classical music review website. We hasten to assure you that, fortunately, no staff have been requested to oboe out of service, and the caretakers have not been asked to return either major or minor keys to our new ownership. While we anticipate that the tone of this blog may shift incidentally, rest assured that the theme of music will remain in full measure. Our reportage may be more varied than in the past. Our present dissonance with our new commission should dimuendo rather than crescendo, although a few accidentals and sharp words will pass, and a few f-durs will fall flat.

Until then, we kindly ask you, gentle reader, to bear with us. Your regular programme will return in a brief minuet.

For the past year, we’ve been using in-ear headphones to listen to the music we’ve reviewed on this site. Now the time has come to review the headphones themselves.

Why in-ear headphones? Two reasons come to mind. Portability: these models tend to be much less bulky than their over-the-ear counterparts. Style: some of us simply prefer not to have bulbous, Princess Leia-style headbumps. Add it the fact that many of these in-ear headphones have passive noise-cancelling abilities, making them suitable for blocking out coworkers who eat, breathe and talk at 120 decibels.

And we’re not talking about the standard white hard earbuds that come with iPods and iPhones, which, if you’re lucky, will sit in your ears. For me, the standard earbuds tend to fall out, and the noise isn’t isolated from the sounds of the world outside. That means pumping up the volume, damaging your ears and annoying everyone else around you. Plus they scream ’steal my iPod!’ or whatever storage device you do use.

The models that we had chosen were the Shure SE530 Sound Isolating Earphones and the Westone 3 True Three Way Earphones. Both offer three drivers in each earbud (two for bass, one for the higher registers) and external noise-reduction capabilities. Both will set you back somewhere between $400 and $500. They each come with a range of flanges so that the buds sit comfortably inside the external ear canal, forming a seal, essential for blocking out distracting noises and concentrating the sound waves of your choice inside your ears. (When properly fitted, the flanges don’t fall off inside the ear; they adhere to the earbuds and never once have they been left inside my ear canals.)

Both sets of headphones require a certain amount of time to warm up (usually 10 hours or so). The sounds they convey are crisp and clear, and one no longer heads to fiddle with the equalizer to make anything sound better. Not only is the music easier to appreciate, but the other sounds of performance are there to enrich your experience: the acoustics of the recording studio; the breathing of the performers; clicking and squeaking chairs; the tap of a foot upon the pedals. In spite of the layers of recording and decoding equipment that comprise digital music, these earphones highlight music as a human endeavour: music requires the performer and the listener to fulfill its purpose.

Yet, alas, even the most perfect earphones cannot be perfect all the time. The Westone 3s gave up first: the casing for an earbud fell apart. These were under warranty, and were replaced after a couple of weeks. The replacements worked for a while before they, too, abandoned their task, with one side fading in and out of commission. The Shures held up for over a year of steady use before the right earbud inexplicably weakened and finally died. Fortunately, these pair too are under warranty (one of the benefits of an expensive product, I suppose) and will be sent out for repairs.

Even with these issues, I wouldn’t give up on earphones; their sound-isolating quality is a relief for the audiophile in this noise-polluted world. Over the ear headphones give a similar experience too, but require batteries; maybe we’ll give those a try at some point in the future.

Recently we picked up a copy of ‘Masters of the Oboe,’ a compilation set from Deutsche Grammophon (2006).

As the voracious readers of our well-thumbed blog know, the oboe has a unique sound, often likened to that of aquatic fowl. It is a matter of some contention between the august editors of this website as to whether it is closer to the duck or the goose; but we agree that, in competent hands, it is melodious fowl. It also is incredibly temperamental and fiendishly difficult to master. In large part this is due to the reed that generates the oboe’s characteristic sound: being a natural material, its character changes with environmental conditions, and ultimately each reed wears out.

This compilation set offers a wide selection from the oboeist’s repetitore, ranging from the Baroque to the modern. The many moods of the instrument are on display here, at times playful, others plaintive, always sonorous. The oboe shines the most in chamber music, when it is not overwhelmed by hordes of strings, which sound almost pedestrian in comparison. One gem among many in this collection is the finale from the Trio for 2 Oboes and cor anglais in C, Op. 87, a light-hearted conversation between woodwinds.

While stitched together from multiple recordings, the sound quality is even and uniformly high throughout. Quite frequently one can hear little clicking noises in the background, presumably from the keys of the oboe. Some might find this a little distracting, but one quickly becomes accustomed to it and it adds to the charm of the music.

Overall, it fulfills the purpose of a compilation album: to give an overview of the oboe’s repetoire and also to pique the listener’s interest in what is otherwise an obscure but charming instrument.

Publisher: Deutsche Grammophon
Year: 2010
Artist: Alice Sara Ott

There are probably several hundred recordings of Chopin’s body of work, ranging from the truly atrocious to the sublime. Associated as he is with the Romantic era, many artists of the modern attempt to infuse their interpretations with pathos and melodrama by taking vast liberties with phrasing, pedalling, and tempo. Other performers take a more impressionistic view to the score: if Chopin spent weeks labouring over each and every bar, maybe he made a mistake, leaving in some of those horrible notes in the long runs or massive chords. Volume and speed are equated with passion, not a fussy insistence upon hitting the right notes in the right way: wasn’t that what Romantic era music about?

Ms. Ott does not so much play these waltzes as allow them to unfold. Each overlapping voice is enunciated clearly; the pedal is restrained and is never allowed to become muddy and indistinct. She has a peculiar ability to make each chord sound perfectly natural and easy; there is no hint of any finger-busting struggle to cover distance on the keyboard. Every phrase is rounded and given its moment to sing. She allows both the harmonies and dissonances to work their own particular magic, without having to resort to cheap dynamic tricks. Even the most delicate notes are played with poise and attention. Occasionally she offers a different voicing (such as in the supporting left-hand line towards the end of Op 64 No 2) to keep the music lively and fresh; Chopin’s endless repetitions do not seem quite so laboured. Most of her tempi reflect the heritage of these Waltzes, and move at a reasonable clip. The inclusion of the posthumous Nocturne (No. 20, in C-sharp minor) is a welcome surprise, a lovely dessert for this feast of music.

In short, there is much to recommend this mature, balanced recording that will bear repeated scrutiny, and it shines in comparison to other contemporary recordings. I think even Chopin would have approved of it.

Publisher: Deutsche Grammophon
Year: 2010
Artists: Hilary Hahn, Matthias Goerne, Christine Schäfer, Münchener Kammerorchester & Alexander Liebreich

First, the good news: Hilary Hahn is featured in this collection of Bach cantatas and choral works. For the most part, her playing is as composed, clear and thoughtful as always; her violin sings, laughs and sparkles.

Now, the bad news. Although one might expect otherwise from a record whose title implies balance between instrument and voice, these recordings are weighed down by the two vocalists. The nature of baroque music is contrapuntal and bright; Mr. Goerne’s fruity vibrato overpowers all distinctions, and lack of expression lends a leaden quality to his pieces. What may be lovely in the concert hall translates into loud mush. Ms. Schäfer, on the other hand, prefers to skip half of her notes and manages to miss the rest, rather like a hurdler who decides that it is quicker to barrel down the course than to attempt those athletic jumps. Furthermore, both vocalists lack the pleasing subtlety and cooperation that Bach demands of his performers. Perhaps it is not entirely their fault; these two vocalists seem to have preferred Romantic leider to Lutheran liturgy in their past work, and these have different vocal techniques and requirements.

Other little indignities are present in this package. The cover art is atrocious. Who picked that font? Why is it purple? Why is a disembodied bust of old Bach hovering, god-like, in the corner? Why do the artists look photoshopped onto the generic white of an indeterminate church hall? Why do they look like they are guilty of a great secret? Why is the violinist separated from the vocalists? Why is everyone in black? Why are there no artist biographies? And if they are so famous, why are there no promotional covers for the other two artists?

One of your esteemed reviewers believes that this CD is palatable in the right historical context. The other reviewer finds this a difficult recording to digest.

Why is it that a galloping horse (which has four legs), is suggested in music by triplets, and trains (which are double-piston stroke engines) by four sixteenth notes?

Well, it looks as though Yo Yo Ma is again forging new connections between two worlds — this time between classical music and…Canadian politicians?

Publisher: EMI Records (1999)

Artists: Daniel Barenboim, Jacquelin du Pre and Pinchas Zukerman

Even in the digital age, the classical audiophile has a hard life. The acknowledged, tried-and-true virtuosos have retired, or died, and their lasting legacy consists of intangible memories of concert-goers and a scratchy records which can never be perfectly remastered. Of the many who aspire to greatness today, it is difficult to judge from a low-quality YouTube clip, or a thirty-second sound bite, the true quality of their recordings. In the long run, many who have promoted themselves successfully, and seemed to hold much promise, lose their sparkle and charm. So one makes assumptions based on past recordings and reputation as a guide.

We recently purchased a recording of the Beethoven Violin Sonatas and Tchaikovsky Piano Trio, featuring the above three artists. The sound quality is reasonable, although sometimes not as crisp and clear as we might desire. If one listens closely, it sounds as though the violin is placed closer to the left, and the piano is opposite, on the right. The Violin Sonatas have been amply recorded in the past, but each has its own character and flavour. This recording has more of the feel of chamber music, with violin and piano supporting and assisting each other, rather than violin dominating over the piano accompaniment. There is good reason for this, given the long shared history of these musicians, and Barenboim’s piano is clean and articulate, and a pleasure to listen to. While decent, Zukerman’s violin is sometimes faint and less stellar, lacking the engaging energy exhibited in other interpretations (compare with the Perlman/Ashkenazy recordings, 1974). As a result, this is a merely pleasant and somewhat surprising recording, but by no means a definitive interpretation.

The Tchaikosky piano trio is also somewhat disappointing. The audio quality is again quite reasonable. Both the violin and cello suit each other superbly, but in this instance, there is an indistinct quality to the piano, and quite possibly wrong notes. The fault does not lie solely on the performers, however; the composition’s quality and purpose fades markedly in the middle portion of the second movement, to the point where, more than once, your humble reviewers have simply turned off the track and listened to something better developed.

Finally comes the calculation of value. This collection was offered at 256kbps from iTunes, at a price of $25 (or somewhere in that vicinity). While pleasant, we do not listen to these recordings on a daily basis, and it is perhaps best streamed occasionally rather than purchased for closer study and inclusion into a permanent collection.