FLIGHTS OF FANTASY
TEDD JOSELSON Platinum Jubilee Concert
Musicians’ Initiative / Alvin Arumugam
Wednesday, 8 June 2022
Esplanade Concert Hall
Reviewed by Dr. KEVIN YL TAN
Belgian-born, American pianist Tedd Joselson first started visiting Singapore regularly in the late 1990s and after he retired from concertising in 1999, decided to settle here in 2000. Over the next 20 years, Joselson has become a familiar fixture on the local classical music scene, extracting himself from retirement, every now and then to champion a cause (like the National Kidney Foundation) or promote his students. In 2017 he celebrated his Golden Jubilee in a concert at the Manasseh Meyer Concert Hall in Jalan Ulu Sembawang, featuring his talented students. Last Wednesday evening, just five years after that event he undertook what is probably the most ambitious concert we have ever seen, a three-work concert that included two big barnstorming concertos – the Tchaikovsky First and Brahms First – and a world premiere of a piano fantasia, to celebrate his Platinum Jubilee.
I could not help but be puzzled by this particular billing. If Joselson celebrated his Golden Jubilee (50th anniversary of his career) in July 2017, how could he be celebrating his Platinum Jubilee (70th anniversary of whatever) in 2022? Just how old is Joselson? The SISTIC website states that Joselson was born in 1951, which would make him 70 or 71 this year. If that is correct, he could technically claim to be celebrating his 70th birthday or platinum year. But his date of birth remains a mystery. Nicholas Slonimsky, that great musical biographer gives Joselson’s birth date as 4 October 1954. That would make Joselson 68 years old this year, not 70. Allan Kozinn, who penned one of the most flattering early accounts of Joselson and his artistry – “Tedd Joselson made it without contests” in the New York Times of 8 January 1978, stated that he was then 25 years old. That would make his birth year 1953, and not 1954. And an article in the Orlando Sentinel dated 21 May 1985 stated that Joselson was then 29 years old which would make his birth year 1956, or at its earliest, 1955.
So, Joselson’s age and how he celebrates his life and career remain a mysterious secret. But what is no secret is his prowess at the piano, which he amply demonstrated to an adoring audience on Wednesday evening. Joselson had studied under Adele Marcus at the Juilliard School of Music and was introduced to Eugene Ormandy, conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra by his neighbour and supporter, Arthur Judson, the impresario. Ormandy was so impressed with his performance of Prokofiev’s Second Concerto that he introduced him to the record executives at RCA who signed him up as a recording artiste after hearing him play. Recently, Sony Classical released his complete RCA recordings in a 6-CD box set, including his first disc – a recording of the Tchaikovsky First Concerto and the Prokofiev Second, with which he made his Philadelphia debut. Joselson so impressed the RCA executives that they preferred him over Jorge Bolet for new concerto releases – one of classical piano’s everlasting regrets.
In any case, I attended Wednesday’s Flights of Fantasy with some trepidation. Joselson’s earlier post-retirement outings, including Rachmaninov’s Second and Third Concertos in 2005, met with less than lukewarm response. Maybe he was just getting old and out of practice. This was followed later with surgery for voice-box cancer in 2012. With that in mind, I couldn’t help asking myself: Can he pull this off – two huge Romantic concertos, plus a world premiere?
The Tchaikovsky started off shakily. Joselson seemed a little unsettled and nervous as he tried to steel himself for the massive chords that followed the opening tutti. His nerves showed with a number of finger fluffs and mis-hits and the orchestra struggled to keep pace to the uneven tempi. At points, conductor Alvin Arumugam seemed undecided, whether to push the momentum along or to take it more slowly for Joselson to catch up. Indeed, the orchestral accompaniment sounded laboured in parts. To be sure, Joselson showed flashes of that temperament and technique that made him famous in the 1970s, but soloist and orchestra just did not seem to be ad idem and I was quite relieved that they somehow managed to end the first movement in unison, without any mishap. What made Joselson’s nerves more obvious were the fluffs in the cadenzas. The entry of the piano in the lyrical second movement couldn’t have been more different. Joselson’s fine touch was matched by the orchestra’s sympathetic accompaniment and one could feel the evening glow with the growing partnership and synchronicity of soloist and orchestra. The third movement had Joselson and the orchestra firing on all cylinders as pyrotechnics and fireworks were set off against each other, bringing the concerto to a raucous and triumphant end. There was real fire and temperament in Joselson’s playing, and a clear demonstration that his technique was all still there. By this time, the audience knew it was in for a treat.
The second piece, the Lim Fantasia of Companionship for piano and orchestra was introduced by Susan Lim, one of the two “creators” of the piece (the other being fellow doctor Christina Teenz Tan), and to share the limelight with her were composer Manu Martin and others who were part of the creative collaboration. As the introductory and adulatory speeches wore on, I found myself getting more and more confused as to who actually wrote the work and what it represented. Written in six parts, the work explored “the potential of inanimate life and how these factors may influence new concepts of companionship”. The ‘inanimate’ is a lion cub called Alan, an avatar whose origins are in Tanzania. The first 3 Acts depict Alan and his relation with humans. In Act 4, science and technology intervene to rewrite Alan’s genetic code, and this leads to a battle between an evil scientist and a boy scientist which results in the boy cracking the code to ‘fulfil the inanimate’s deepest desire for quantum entanglement (Acts 5 and 6). OK. The introduction floored me. I didn’t get it, and was quite sure I wouldn’t get the music either. I was prepared for the worst.
The ensemble was huge – 140 musicians – including a choir, and modern instruments, like synthesizers, electric guitar, drum set and ‘African’ drums. The lights dimmed and then danced, and the synthesizer and piano introduced the piece with a tune reminiscent of the opening of the Harry Potter theme. The work was strangely enjoyable, probably because it contained so many musical cliches, drawn from movie themes and some rock classics. The lights were orchestrated to accompany and enhance the entire musical experience which proved to be rather fun. The music had a cinematic sweep and vibe and we cycled through tunes that could well have come from movies like Dances with Wolves, Glory and Titanic, and as we headed for the home straight, the guitarist Jerome Buigues appeared to take the music up another notch. By this time, I was hearing snatches of what sounded like the music of the Moody Blues, Emerson Lake & Palmer and Rick Wakeman.
Then the vocal soloist, Matthieu Eymard, appeared to sing his lungs out in a tune reminiscent of Don Quixote in the musical, Man of La Mancha, bringing the house down in the finale, with the full-throated accompaniment of the chorus. As an event, it was an unbridled triumph, what with orchestrated lighting and all. Joselson played beautifully throughout given that the piano parts did not appear to tax him whatsoever. The audience loved the work, whatever it was intended to mean, and gave everyone a standing ovation. I found it rather enjoyable too. It was novel and the tunes were nice, but I’m not sure I will want to listen to it all over again.
After a 30-minute break, we returned for what ended up being the evening’s highlight – an urgent and compelling performance of Brahms’ D minor concerto. This is a huge piece, typically lasting between 40 and 50 minutes, with Herculean demands on the pianist who needs the power and stamina to ride through the many passages where the piano competes with the full orchestra. Indeed, the huge orchestral opening and symphonic scoring led one of Brahms’ critics to label the concerto as a ‘symphony with piano obligato’. Joselson returned from his break fresher than before, and in a rather more relaxed state, having divested himself of his face mask. He matched the superb orchestral playing blow with blow and raced off to a speedy start, never missing a beat. His playing was immaculate, energetic and enthusiastic in the outer movements, and lovingly lyrical in the second Adagio movement in which Brahms tries to depict ‘the beautiful Clara Schumann’.
The final movement gallops off at a fast clip and Joselson is in his element. Playing like a man possessed, he never lets up – save for a momentary slip in concentration near the end – pounding with the best of them, and bringing the massive rondo to an exultant close. It was one of the most compelling Brahms 1 performances I have ever watched in Singapore, and Joselson must be saluted, not only for this performance, but for pulling it all off. What an evening!
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