The LA Wind Sextet Return to Mason House

REVIEW

The Los Angeles Wind Sextet play Bach, Thuille, Kreutzer, and Gershwin

JOHN STODDER

One of the many pleasures of attending Mason House concerts is the intimate connection between the audience and the musicians that share the living room. In addition to listening to expertly performed pieces from the classical and modern chamber music repertoire, you get something extra from being able to watch the musicians at such proximity. The connection between them and the audience was especially vital at this concert.

Proof of life

If you’re a fan of serious music, a wind ensemble sounds like something fun and different from most chamber music, which tends to lean toward strings and piano. I remember at about age 14 falling in love with a recording of Stravinsky’s Octet for Wind Instruments, because it had such an unusual sound. This concert helped me to understand more fully what a unique place small wind ensembles occupy in classical music—the collective and conscientious labor of love required for the players of these disparate instruments to fuse their collaboration together.

Each wind instrument has a distinct construction, technique, and centuries of history that must be bridged with the others, which have equally thorny issues, to create an ensemble sound. The LA Wind Sextet features two instruments with double reeds, one with a single reed, one brass instrument, and a flute.

l-r: Judith Farmer, bassoon; Susan Greenberg, flute; Amy Jo Rhine, horn; Burt Hara, clarinet;
Jonathan Davis, oboe; Kevin Fitz-Gerald, piano.

Each performer uses a different tool in a different way, most of them radically unlike one another. The horn player, performing on the only brass instrument in a traditional wind quintet, buzzes their lips against the mouthpiece as they blow; the double reed players induce two small pieces of cane to vibrate against each other in just the right way; the clarinetist must blow down his stick-like instrument to make a wooden reed oscillate against the mouthpiece; while the flautist directs an airstream across an opening so that it strikes one edge just hard enough to fill the room with beautiful sound.

Playing wind instruments is the ultimate proof of life. As flautist Susan Greenberg explained during an invaluable post-concert Q&A, she must breathe twice as hard as the other wind players to be as loud as they are, because only half of her air goes into the instrument. Finally, all five of the wind instruments could fit inside the sixth member of this particular sextet: a grand piano with its felt-covered hammers and taut metal strings. Imagine the challenge of balancing all of this in live performance, with each player occupying their own island of unique factors to deal with.

Gershwin like never before

The highlight of this terrific concert was the final piece. I’ve heard Rhapsody in Blue in concert a few times, but never before able to watch, from 10 feet away, a clarinetist (Burt Hara) prepare to play the opening glissando—literally readying himself to launch the five greatest seconds of American music ever written. He wiped the inside of his instrument with what looked like a silk cloth, filled his lungs with air, tapped his music stand, adjusted how he was sitting, and waggled his fingers to loosen them for an extended musical journey. Hara’s an easygoing, witty performer, but was suddenly in motion agitating to unleash, abruptly and loudly, what George Gershwin called the “wail” that opens the piece.

Gershwin by Miguel Covarrubias, 1925.

Watching and hearing the LA Wind Sextet perform it in a small room was an unforgettable experience. It belongs on your bucket list if you love American music: Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, Duke Ellington… be jealous! Even though there were only six instruments, I’ve never heard Rhapsody in Blue louder, nor have the work’s details and nuances ever manifested more clearly.

I would never have thought to apply “less is more” to this ambitious piece, but with the individual voices playing key passages in groups of two and three, Gershwin’s harmonic writing never sounded so clear, brilliant, and yet in some ways unfamiliar. The five wind players —in addition to Hara and Greenberg, we heard Jonathan Davis on oboe, Judith Farmer on bassoon and Amy Jo Rhine on horn—were mesmerizing.

However, the real star of the Gershwin was pianist Kevin Fitz-Gerald, because Rhapsody in Blue is in effect a piano concerto, a dialogue between soloist and orchestra. Fitz-Gerald’s way was not to dominate the piece, but to adopt a hybrid approach, playing solo passages like a headliner, then dropping back into the chamber music web when the score allowed him to make aural space for his ensemble-mates, then re-emerging with the force of thunder.

A mighty fortress

Medieval manuscript copy of Ein feste Burg.

The concert opened with a piece based on a song I recall singing in my elementary school choir, in the years before religious music was forbidden because it was, in effect, prayer in the school: Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott. Sung in English, it was known as “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.”

Based on a composition from the 1520s, attributed to Martin Luther and referred to by Lutherans as “The Battle Hymn of the Reformation,” in around 1707 J. S. Bach turned it into a chorale prelude for organ (BWV 720) that is less martial and more ethereal. The piece began with a statement of that instantly familiar theme on bassoon by Farmer, but the solo diverts from it almost immediately and is joined by the other instruments in a series of duet and trio variations, through which fragments of the melody float like ghosts. The elegant orchestration for wind quintet was by Mordechai Rechtman, himself a bassoonist and leader of the Israel Woodwind Quintet.

Introducing Thuille and Kreutzer

The next two pieces, that straddled the intermission, were by composers with whom I was not familiar, Ludwig Wilhelm Andreas Maria Thuille from Austria (1861-1907) and the German Conradin Kreutzer (1780-1849). They were both significant German-speaking composers who contributed to the development of romantic music, albeit from different timelines.

Kreutzer was a transitional figure from Classicism to early Romanticism, his music reflecting the simple melodic emphasis of that period, and most known for his songs and operas, particularly A Night in Granada, a Romantic opera about a prince and a peasant girl. Thuille, born 12 years after Kreutzer’s death, reflected the changes in Romantic music as the 19th century unfolded. Like many composers of his generation, he was influenced by Johannes Brahms, as well as by his lifelong friend Richard Strauss, and by the greater complexity of the late Romantics. Thuille wrote in many genres, including opera, but is most highly regarded now for his chamber music.

Ludwig Thuille.

His most celebrated work is the one we heard at Mason House, his Sextet for piano and woodwind quintet, Op. 6; Strauss was said to be instrumental in getting it premiered in 1888. At least 10 recordings exist on streaming media, and it is a popular choice for wind ensembles. Indeed, this concert was the second time this buried classic of late Romanticism has been featured at Mason House.

What struck me this time was how radically its mood shifts. Thuille begins it one way but ends it very differently. The 10-minute-long first movement is noble in feeling, a Beethovenian narrative in tribute to a conquering hero. As with the Gershwin arrangement, the ensemble seemed bigger than just six players, almost orchestral. The instruments paired up to create a large palette of effects, for example Rhine’s horn and Farmer’s bassoon blending in what sounded like a royal procession. The Larghetto, almost as long, slows the pace but seems otherwise a continuation of the first movement’s stately, unhurried style, the main difference being the pianist’s greater prominence, as well as several achingly beautiful horn passages.

Things change quite a bit with the third movement Gavotte, which opens with a more animated theme first on oboe and then passed around the winds before settling on the piano. The movement gradually gains momentum and becomes quite magical, like a music box or a cuckoo clock. Whereas the first two movements struck me as formal, this one was mock-formal, as if children had snuck on the stage to make fun of their elders’ stiffness.

The finale is even livelier—light and airy and a world away from the first movement’s solemnity—and characterized by ensemble play and only brief solo passages, as the musicians seemed to relax and enjoy the faster pace as a kind of liberation dance. This last movement was one of the better opportunities in the concert for the LA Wind Sextet members to flash their virtuoso skills.

Conradin Kreutzer.

As Kreutzer’s Trio in E-flat major for clarinet, bassoon and piano, Op. 43, began, we were brought back into a more formal mood. With only three instruments instead of six, the performers (Hara, Farmer, and Fitz-Gerald) each had more room to make their impressions on the listeners—and repeatedly rose to the occasion. In contrast with Thuille, Kreutzer’s composition looked back, recalling Haydn or early Beethoven, adhering to the Classical aesthetic.

The second movement, Andante grazioso, was gorgeous, highlighting Hara’s rich tone on clarinet, contrasted at times with the lower registers of the bassoon for a pleasing effect. The third movement was the dessert. The trio left behind the deliberate pace of the first two movements and gave us music played with increasing energy and theatricality, including three false endings. After the second one, I wrote in my notebook, “Fun, fun, fun.” It’s a charming piece that doesn’t deserve its obscurity.

Judith Farmer, Burt Hara, and Kevin Fitz-Gerald play
Kreutzer’s Trio, Op. 43.

What we learned

The performers are all expert musicians but also charming people with senses of humor, which they displayed during the closing Q&A. Another feature was the pre-concert talk by LA Opus Managing Editor, David Brown (below), an English-born amateur classical music scholar whose erudition and research prowess gave the audience vital context for understanding the concert and the compositions, especially helpful in preparing us to hear Thuille and Kreutzer.

In his talk Brown admitted that in the past the British music community had “pigeonholed Gershwin as a writer of popular music.” Of course he was—with his brother Ira one of the most revered Broadway songwriting teams, who composed standards like Fascinating Rhythm, The Man I Love, and I Got Rhythm for hit shows in the 1920s and 1930s.

However, his success in that field had meant to earlier generations of British classical buffs that Gershwin “was not to be taken seriously as a composer for the concert hall or the opera house. It took me emigrating to America to realize not only that Gershwin is cherished here as an absolutely central figure in 20th century American music, but also that the division between ‘popular’ and ‘classical’—or as I’d rather call it, concert music— is nowhere near as pronounced here as it is in Britain or in continental Europe.”

Jazz bandleader Albert Ayler famously said, “Music is the healing force of the universe.” Maybe that quote comes to mind because Ayler was also a wind player (tenor saxophone), like the LA Wind Sextet breathing life into music. The Mason House concerts now regularly sell out, and there has clearly been a lot of audience turnover, with more attendees encouraged by the publicity and word-of-mouth the series has enjoyed lately to venture from their homes to hear music at its finest. We began this concert as mostly strangers, but you could feel it: this concert created a bond. Great music is how we will get through all this.

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Mason Home Concerts, 3484 Redwood Ave., Mar Vista, CA 90066, Saturday, April 18, 2026,, 6:00 p.m.

Images: The performance: Todd Mason; Gershwin, Ein feste Burg manuscript, Thuille, Kreutzer: Wikimedia Commons.

World’s Favorite Opera Closes Seattle Opera Season

Dress rehearsal of Bizet's Carmen at Seattle Opera.

REVIEW

Carmen, Seattle Opera, McCaw Hall, Seattle Center

ERICA MINER

Georges Bizet in 1875, the year of
Carmen's premiere and his own death.

With tunes almost everyone can recognize, Bizet’s Carmen is universally accepted as the most popular opera of all time. Not so well known is that the composer virtually died of disappointment after the third performance, convinced that the flop he had created would never be a success, though it triumphed soon afterward. Sadly, he did not live to realize his accomplishment, but we all are fortunate to continue enjoying this immortal opera, and likely will do so for years to come.

Based on French author Prosper Mérimée’s scandalous novella of the same name, Bizet and his librettists Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy created a multi-layered anti-heroine title character and her nemesis in the context of a vibrant setting. Co-produced with Irish National Opera and Opera Philadelphia, Seattle’s Carmen, with its flamboyantly portrayed characters and colorful background, fulfilled the most crowd-pleasing elements of the work. A pre-performance Flamenco trio of singer, guitarist and dancer performing in the McCaw Hall lobby set the mood for the Spanish-flavored evening.

Sasha Cooke as Carmen.

The former Seattle Opera Young Artist Sasha Cooke, returning to Seattle after a decade-long hiatus, made a noteworthy role debut in a title part that  demands huge resilience and fortitude. Not only was she vocally dazzling, bursting forth with full, lush tones, but she also brought much thought to the complexity of the character: sensual but freedom-loving, unfathomable and shrewd, yet filled with inner turmoil.

Matthew Cairns as Don José.

In the other leading roles were three Seattle Opera debuts, among them Canadian tenor Matthew Cairns as Don José. He sang with great power, enough to be heard above the dense orchestration. Though Cairns' voice sounded rather strident at times, he gave the role a convincing rendering, his pleading tones being especially strong in the tragic dénouement of Act 4.

Christian Pursell as Escamillo.

Escamillo, as sung by the American bass-baritone Christian Pursell, was one of the best in recent memory. Vocally, Pursell lacked nothing: consistent in all ranges, with gorgeous tones and effortless top notes. He was the embodiment of virility, entirely convincing as the drop-dead gorgeous, danger-craving hero rock star who would bring any red-blooded woman to her knees.

Kathleen O’Mara gave a touching performance as the faithful Micaëla. The young American soprano’s voice was soubrette-like in the appropriate places, full-bodied in others, and exceedingly well-defined in the high notes. As she matures, she will be a bright light on the opera stage.

Also making company debuts were Armenian baritone Navasard Hakobyan as El Dancairo, tenor Daniel O’Hearn as Remendado, and soprano Meredith Wohlgemuth as Frasquita. Returning to Seattle Opera were American baritone Darren Drone as Zuniga, baritone Ilya Silchukou as Moralès, and mezzo-soprano Melody Wilson as Mercédès. Wohlgemuth was especially enjoyable in her major moments, with high notes that were clear and sparkling. All of the singers were admirable, both vocally and dramatically.

Kathleen O'Mara as Micaëla.

Seattle Symphony Conductor Emeritus Ludovic Morlot, helming his first fully staged production since Wagner’s Das Rheingold in 2023, brought his characteristic French sensitivity to the podium. Greeted with roars of approval from both orchestra and audience, the much-loved maestro fulfilled their endorsement with an interpretation that was at once suave and high energy, bringing forth crisp playing from his Seattle Symphony musicians and creating an atmosphere dripping with sophistication and élan. One could sit back and luxuriate in this assuredly authentic rendering of Bizet’s luminous score.

Ludovic Morlot.

Acclaimed for his original Seattle Opera debut in this production in 2019, Scottish stage director and choreographer Paul Curran demonstrated his vitality and keen understanding of singers and dancers, giving them movements and gestures that remained dynamic throughout the evening. He added details that kept the stage activity energetic and constantly moving and provided numerous surprise and appealing moments: Carmen’s final act of defiance at the end of Act 1 (no spoiler alerts here!), the rapt expression on the children’s faces as they gazed at their Toreador hero, and more.

Paul Curran.

The chorus movements provided ongoing interest, yet were never distracting. The violence, enhanced by Fight Director Geoffrey Alm’s compelling combats and skirmishes, was shocking but not unseemly or out of context. In his alluring and creative choreography, Curran was able to capitalize on the talents of a small but outstanding troupe of dancers, all of whom performed impressively. There was not a single dramatically slow moment in the entire performance.

Gary McCann’s sets and costumes and Paul Hackenmueller’s lighting designs, were striking and attention-grabbing and succeeded in making the more contemporary than traditional setting believable.

Carmen is a heavy lift for the chorus, and Chorus Master Michaella Calzaretta delivered her customary high standards, making the most of the ensemble’s prominent moments. Especially noteworthy was the declaration À deux cuartos! that begins Act 4 which, generally difficult to discern, came across as extremely understandable and resonant. Youth Chorus Master Julia Meyering did an exceptional job with the children (below), who sang with excellent projection and rousing enthusiasm. The production continues until May 17 at McCaw Hall. Information and tickets at: https://www.seattleopera.org/carmen/.

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McCaw Hall, 321 Mercer Street, Seattle Center, Seattle, WA 98109, 7:30 p.m., Saturday, May 2, 2026.

Images: Bizet: Wikimedia Commons; Production photos: Sunny Martini; Ludovic Morlot: Lisa Marie Mazzucco; Paul Curran: artist website.

“Turandot” in Semi-Staged Splendor at Costa Mesa

Turandot in the Segerstrom Concert Hall.

REVIEW

Pacific Symphony Orchestra, Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall, Costa Mesa

DAVID J BROWN

Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924) in the last
year of his life, while writing Turandot.

In previous years we've somehow managed to miss the Pacific Symphony’s annual opera performance, semi-staged in the Renée and Henry Segerstrom Concert Hall, under the baton of its former Artistic and Music Director and current Music Director Laureate, Carl St. Clair. Last season’s production of Das Rheingold was a particularly regretted omission, and if this year’s presentation of Puccini’s final masterpiece, Turandot, of which three performances were given between April 16 and April 21, was any guide, then we’ve been missing something.

It was a ravishing spectacle, both for the ears and the eyes, in which Puccini’s larger-than-life characters—caparisoned vividly but ambiguously as to era and locale (no chinoiserie here!)—strode, emoted, and interacted beneath the Segerstrom’s video screen on which the pages of a hand-drawn shadow book turned, and amidst lofty silken banners swirling and wafting across the full breadth of the stage.

All this was bathed in designer Ken Smith’s lighting effects—sepulchral, kaleidoscopically varied, or radiant according to the unfolding drama—which not only enveloped the width of the performing area but extended to its full height as well, highlighting the fronts of the upper chorus balconies in deep hues and adding extra luster to the burnished acoustic canopy far above.

Altogether the production design was an object-lesson in how to make the most of constrained and easily moveable resources, and this YouTube video, hosted by the stage director Eric Einhorn and also including valuable contributions from costume and puppet designers Caitlin Cisek and Robin Walsh respectively, as well as the lighting designer Ken Smith, gives invaluable insight into the team's approach within their various specialties, predicated on the basic concept of treating Turandot as a fairy-tale drawn from a child’s picture-book.

The performance indeed literally opened out from this, with the distinctly ominous figure of the Mandarin (David Crawford, bass-baritone, making the sonorous best of his brief appearances), rising spectrally (above) from the pages turned by their boy reader (Jayden Guarneri in a non-singing role created specially for this production) against the five massive down-thrusting fff brass chords that open the opera.

Errin Duane Brooks as Calaf.

Turandot has a quite small cast of solo parts, and there was not a single weak link amongst them. By far the largest role is that of Calaf, the initially anonymous prince who finally conquers the “ice princess” Turandot, and the American tenor Errin Duane Brooks—apparently quite a late substitute given that his biographical notes were included as an insert sheet with the already printed program— equally conquered the heroically strenuous demands Puccini makes of his male principal.

When it came to that aria near the start of Act Three, Brooks’ voice initially sounded a little threadbare, but while not (of course!) erasing memories of Pavarotti in his golden prime on the classic Decca recording, he recovered and hit the climactic “Vincerò!” with a force and focus that fully earned the inevitable ovation.

Turandot herself is just a silent presence in Act One, and as in this production she appeared (highly effectively) as a drawn image (below) gazing down from the shadow-book on the screen above, Marjorie Owens’ commanding stage presence was not seen until her entry in Act Two, where she thoroughly proved her mettle at “in questa reggia,” both alone in the first part of the aria and then as an entirely equal partner with Brooks in its later stages.

Marjorie Owens as Turandot, in costume
designed by Caitlin Cisek.

The tragic duo of the exiled Tartar king Timur and his slave companion Liù were sung by Raymond Aceto (bass) and Alisa Jordheim (soprano). Aceto's tall, robust frame made him a rather implausible embodiment of aged frailty, but Ms. Jordheim’s slight figure exactly suited her role. However, there was nothing wanting vocally or dramatically from either, and both really came into their own in Act Three, first with Liù’s desperate and doomed refusal to divulge the secret of Calaf’s name, and then Timur’s agonized lament over her body, which Mr. Aceto made the most moving episode in the whole performance.

The three ministers Ping, Pang, and Pong—the nearest Turandot gets to comic relief—were the well-matched Hunter Enoch (bass-baritone), Nicholas Nestorak (tenor), and David Blalock (tenor), each equipped with an outsize velvet top hat sometimes carried on a stick (why?) and otherwise donned and doffed with frequency. For this listener they brought to mind the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland (and then by association, the Queen of Hearts’ “Off with his head!”—a perhaps not inappropriate parallel in this context).

Liù (Alisa Jordheim) and
Timur (Raymond Aceto).

The other late substitute in the cast was Nicholas Preston (tenor) in the brief role of Emperor Altoum. His appearance was, I thought, was one of the clear mis-steps in the production, represented as he was by one of the wafting silk banners with the singer nowhere in sight. I wonder how many audience members unfamiliar with the opera failed to figure out why on earth Calaf and Turandot were singing at a banner in the second scene of Act Two?

Carried out though it was with formidable inventiveness and often spectacular results, and with some neat touches (the boy running out to whisper the answer to Turandot’s third riddle reminded me of Bastian in The Neverending Story—a parallel confirmed by Producer Eric Einhorn in the video noted above), I did find something basically misconceived in the interpretation of Turandot as picture-book/fairytale. For me, Puccini’s score is simply too powerful and overwhelming to be thus pigeon-holed and tidied away, and often I felt the music’s oppressive, fist-shaking grandeur to be battering against the constraints of the production concept.

l-r: Pang (Nicholas Nestorak), Pong (David Blalock),
 and Ping (Hunter Enoch).

There’s also the point that it’s a story embodying the designedly pitiless extremes of an exotic, alien imagined culture that Puccini used all the expressive power of his signal genius to project as forcibly as possible, its ethos and his attitude to which have been subject to reams of analysis. In this production all that was pretty much side-stepped, the key example being Liù's torture, which amounted here to having her arm briefly twisted by Pong. Without wanting a Tarantinoesque bloodbath on stage, to be true to the composer—however repellant and alienating that may be—Liù must be seen to really suffer to the point where she chooses suicide as the only way out of her torment.

Franco Alfano.

Musically, however, there were no reservations whatever. From the doom-laden opening to the apotheotic recap of the “Nessun dorma” theme with which composer-substitute Franco Alfano (1875-1954) crowned Puccini’s mighty but incomplete edifice, the Pacific Symphony and Pacific Chorale respectively played and sang their hearts out. The latter had clearly been meticulously prepared by Artistic Director Robert Istad, underlining that Turandot has some of the most glorious and impactful choral writing in the entire operatic repertoire.

While it would have been interesting to hear one of the many completions essayed by composers other than Alfano, it was good to have his in its entirety, rather than cut as often happens. As for Maestro St. Clair, his mastery of the score was total: expansive to the full where appropriate, always mindful and supportive of the singers, encouraging the extra brass (balcony, stage right) or the Southern California Children’s Chorus (balcony, stage left), leaning into the many dramatic moments, and everywhere drawing the utmost expressive power from the largest forces that Puccini ever used. It was a performance to cherish, greeted by a prolonged and deserved standing ovation, with repeated recalls of the cast and conductor to the stage. 

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Pacific Symphony Orchestra, Segerstrom Center for the Arts, Costa Mesa, Thursday, April 16, 2026, 8 p.m.

Images: The performance: Doug Gifford; Puccini and Alfano: Archivio Storico Ricordi.

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Bel Canto Seattle Believes Opera is for Everyone

l-r: Emili Rice, Shayla Nelson, John Costello, Adrienne LaVey.

INTERVIEW: John Costello, Bel Canto Seattle

ERICA MINER

Bel Canto Seattle is kicking off the revolution in high gear. With recordings and live performances in 2026, they plan to transform, enchant and move audiences across the Seattle area. Establishing a new opera company is a special challenge in the current “attack on the arts” atmosphere, but Seattle-based tenor and impresario John Costello is making a brave effort to beat the odds. In a city that already boasts a major opera company, his small but intrepid Bel Canto Seattle is beginning to make a name for themselves: their initial performance on March 8, 2026, sold out months in advance.

“I wanted to create a project that I wished had existed when I started out singing,” Costello says. “A group that’s really focused on getting singers opportunities, and a community centered around accessible and affordable performances and timeless recordings.” The core ensemble of singers joining Costello in his efforts include Adrienne LaVey, Emili Rice, and Shayla Nelson (pictured above).

Among other things, Costello’s ambitious plan to revolutionize and transform the way opera is presented also includes paying singers fairly and on time and dispensing with gatekeepers and the worst aspects of auditions. In our interview below, the budding company director reveals details about his goals and his impressive leadership.

ERICA MINER: Not long ago, you were working as a program manager in tech. Your current project is quite the turnaround. Tell us about that journey.

JOHN COSTELLO: I never fully felt like being in tech really represented me, as a person and a human being. For me music has always been not only a passion and love, but a vehicle to create beauty and help foster a sense of community. Several folks on my dad’s side of the family were musicians or music teachers either at a professional or more casual level, which has influenced my own decision to keep pursuing music seriously. My path has been different and less formal than many of them. It’s my own journey. When we die, we will not be remembered by our occupation, but by the impact we have on others. At the end of the day, I am fully aware that this project is what I’ll be remembered for. And I embrace that.

EM: What was your initial inspiration for creating Bel Canto Seattle?

Adrienne LaVey, Shayla Nelson, John Costello.

JC: On a summer trip to southern California to visit family, I got a great chance to see an EDM (Electronic Dance Music) band called Rufus Du Sol at the Rose Bowl. It was an incredible experience: 95,000, a sold-out show. What really impressed me was how it not only was larger than life, but also very intimate. 

When I came home, I decided to start Bel Canto Seattle to bring that kind of experience to the opera world. Just the audience and the performers. No gatekeepers. No elites dictating who can participate, or enjoy the music. No auditions. No competitions. Just making music from the heart. Forming the group changed my life. I’m really working hard to spread word of mouth about what we're doing.

EM: Sounds like you are on a mission.

JC: My goal is to change things for the better and make sure there is more respect in the industry.

EM: This quote from @teatroallaflopera appears on your website: “The People who will ‘Save Opera’ probably aren’t the people that the system has already picked.” Can you comment?

JC: The same people who have been running opera companies and art orgs have been doing so for the last 20-30 years. Why not take a risk? What do we have to lose? They curate the experience for the audience to the point where it’s downright insulting. The audience that comes out to hear opera is interested and intelligent and deserve the full experience of performers who are passionate about singing the material and actually want to be there, not just phoning it in.

EM: You also mention “kicking off the dust, taking risks.” Can you elaborate?

JC: We’re trying to push the medium forward and embrace how people consume content and are informed about music today. Instagram, TikTok and other social media platforms are how our society largely communicates. Our goal is to make our music and our movement accessible to everyone. The art form also is stuck in the past and rigid with regards to certain tradition. 

For example: With classical music you see a high volume of headshots to market events. Who can actually relate to a headshot? It’s not artistic. It’s not human. That’s why we took the time to invest in actual photoshoots with a great artist like Priya Alahan that really capture our spirit as a group.

EM: Tell us about your fantastic event coming up May 9th, “Opera Rebels.”

JC: We are excited to sing at the great historic Sunset Hill Community Hall in Seattle, which is where we completed our first photoshoot! Eight different singers, including myself and the great Adrienne LaVey, who was a special guest at our last concert, will be singing with us. We will present a very diverse recital for new and seasoned opera fans featuring French and Italian opera with some musical theater, and some pieces from Russian, Czech and American operas as well! Plus, we will have a raffle giving away prizes created by local musicians, artists and authors. Being an Opera Rebel is taking fate into your own hands, and building your own community of outsiders. This is the second step in that journey for us.

EM: You’ve also been talking to folks in the jazz community and have met everyone from Opera on Tap. Can you give us some details?

JC: The jazz community is strong, and their mentality of just “get up there and play/sing!” has been a huge influence on our project. Their main goal is to bring Opera into the bar and other casual environments. They’ve been doing that here for 15 years! 

I saw one of their concerts, met the rest of the group and knew that in Bel Canto we had a sister group, a kindred spirit and ally in the fight to make Opera easier to access and bring it back to the audience. Robin Kallsen is a great jazz singer who also trained with my former voice coach in Seattle, the legendary Marianne Weltmann. Robin has been a great supporter of what we are trying to do with our project. Same with other great jazz singers like Kim Maguire and Angela Petrucci.

EM: On the subject of “a community centered around accessible and affordable performances and timeless recordings,” you’ve been gaining quite a presence in that regard. What are some highlights, and where can we find them?

JC: We're live on Spotify! Our website has links to our most recent EP, which features a studio version of the aria Vainement Ma Bien Aimée in a special arrangement by Connor Wier for cello and Piano. The track features myself, Robert Downey of Seattle Symphony fame on cello, and Karin Kajita, who has made quite a name for herself in the jazz scene, on piano. Our first concert from March 8th is up on YouTube in its entirety and can also be found on our website!

EM: You’ve come a long way since your low point, picking up momentum as you gain a foothold in your goals. What carries you through when things get tough?

JC: Sometimes it can get really hard juggling this project, while also working a 9-5 day job. What keeps me going are the singers I’ve helped so far, and everyone who’s reached out to me with their stories. When I first conceived this project, I wanted to create the type of opera company that existed when I was in my 20s and trying to find my way and gain experience. I know I’m not alone when I talk to other singers about their struggles. The fact that this has resonated so strongly is the best fuel anyone could ask for.

EM: Any final thoughts?

JC: This project was not founded for one singer, but as a movement for an entire community and beyond while at the same time bringing quality and timeless music, live, and streaming online. Not everyone is able to attend in person and it’s very important that this gorgeous music be able to thrive forever. Unless action is taken to make wholesale changes in the art form, stagnation will continue to dominate the genre.

We’re here to change that. And we’re here to stay. For me, this project came together naturally at the right time. I realized my vision was different and I needed to take action to make my dream a reality. If you have a dream, or a passion, don’t wait for permission. We are only given one life on this earth. Live your own life. Live your own dream. Keep going!

EM: Thank you, John, for sharing your unique project with us.

Photo credits: Priya Alahan (photos); Brooke Kunkel (logos)

 

All-American String Quartets at "Classical Interludes"

The Fiato String Quartet: l-r Carrie Kennedy, Joel Pargman, Aaron Oltman, Ryan Sweeney.

REVIEW

The Fiato String Quartet, Classical Interludes, First Lutheran Church, Torrance

BARBARA GLAZER

I always look forward to hearing a recital by the esteemed Fiato Quartet (with Carrie Kennedy and Joel Pargman on violins, Aaron Oltman on viola, and Ryan Sweeney on cello) and applaud another inspired performance—here, of some different and challenging compositions, in the April concert of Classical Crossroads’ Saturday afternoon “Classical Interludes” series. Carrie Kennedy introduced each of the program's selections with a well-spoken short resume of the composer's life and work that enhanced the listeners' appreciation and enjoyment of the music.

The recital began with the First String Quartet (1897-1900) by Charles Ives (1874-1954), written while still an undergraduate at Yale University, and entitled "From the Salvation Army." Ives described his music as "American,"reflecting his New England transcendental sensibility rather than adhering to European Classical traditions—a style that could be dubbed “collage composition," where multiple musical ideas exist simultaneously, creating a sound of “controlled cacophony.”

Ives' graduation photo, c.1898.

The First Quartet only achieved performance complete in 1957, after Ives’ death. It is a ground-breaking early example of his layering familiar tunes (here, hymns) into a dissonant soundscape evoking themes of memory and nostalgia, but with a modern, new sensibility.

He uses two or more tonal centers at the same time (polytonality), and different rhythms (polyrhythms) simultaneously, long before these techniques were incorporated into avant garde modernist compositions (think Ligeti (1923-2006) and his brilliant Apparitions (1958-59) and Atmosphères (1961), the latter used in 2001: A Space Odyssey).

A friend of mine once worked for the Salvation Army, and after driving her to many of their rehearsals I became familiar with much of the music quoted in the First Quartet. The first movement, Chorale: Andante con moto, is contrapuntal/fugal, using the "Missionary Hymn" (From Greenland's Icy Mountains) as a subject, and "Coronation" (All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name) as a counter-subject.

The second movement (in ABA form, as are all the following movements) headed Prelude: Allegro, has dance-like energy using Beulah Land and Shining Shore, interspersed with Bringing in the Sheaves. The third movement, Offertory: Adagio cantabile, paraphrases Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, and shifts from gentle waltz-like music to a passionate nature before returning to calm. The final Postlude: Allegro marziale combines a new theme, Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus, with tunes from earlier movements.

The Fiato ensemble gave a most masterful performance of this difficult, but fascinating composition. Only a quartet with great insight into the work could keep this “collage composition" technique—in which familiar tunes, sacred in this case, are set in a sophisticated and intellectual framework—heard as comprehensible music, rather than cacophony.

Max Mueller.

A switch in program order brought the contemporary LA-based Max Mueller's Scenes from My Parents’ Cocktail Party (2014), for string quartet, up next. Noted for his work for animated and other films, Mueller frequently collaborates with David Newman in reconstructing movie music for live entertainment, and also has his own YouTube video "Meet the Composer: Max Mueller.”

These four Scenes from My Parents' Cocktail Party are 1. Mango Salsa, 2. Two People Flirting, 3. Candles on the Porch, and 4. Bickering Couple. I think some lines from T. S. Eliot's verse drama The Cocktail Party (1940) give context for any outsider's reaction to the ubiquitous cocktail parties of that time: "Everyone alone, or so it seems to me; they make noises and think they are talking to each other; they make faces, and think they understand each other."

Mueller’s work is wonderful: I particularly enjoyed the humor of the flirting couple where the music is "heavier," evocative of a child being confused or bored by, or missing out on, the nuances of... what is this thing?—oh yes, called “flirting,” and the retreat, the escape to a porch by a couple or an individual for respite, beautifully rendered in Candles on the Porch; and the child no doubt “got” the Bickering Couple—perhaps from his parents' interactions. Again, a really delightful performance by the Fiato Quartet.

Florence Price.

The recital concluded with the String Quartet No. 2 in A Minor (1935) by Florence Price (1887-1953), which blends European chamber music forms with African-American idioms in a four-movement work of work of high energy, lyricism, and dance-like elements.

The first movement, which is marked Moderato, has a dramatic introduction, and includes a “minstrel's song" motto that returns throughout the work. The ensuing Andante Cantabile has a melancholy beauty that blends late-Romantic styles with a kind of bluesy emotion.

The high-energy third movement, Juba (Allegro), is inspired by the African-American Juba dance characterized by syncopated “hambone” rhythms (body slapping, foot stomping, and clapping), in a high-spirited interaction between the instruments. (The Juba dance can be seen on YouTube, and note how it evolved not only into American tap dancing but also is foundational to the modern breakdancing. Price’s Finale, Presto, is a fast-paced virtuosic rondo with great emotional breadth and a conversational, quasi-improvisatory feeling.

The Fiatos’ performance was simply marvelous—and well earned its standing ovation. As ever, thanks to Classical Crossroads’ Jim Eninger for the wonderful video—a best-seat-in-the-house view to enjoy this stellar recital again and again.

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Classical Interludes, First Lutheran Church and School, Torrance, Saturday, April 4, 2026, 3:00 p.m.

Images: The performers: Classical Crossroads, Inc.; Ives: Wikimedia Commons; Mueller: composer website; Price: Library of Congress.

Third Time’s a Charm for Pepe Romero at Long Beach

Guitarist Pepe Romero, Music Director Eckart Preu and members of the Long Beach Symphony
after their performance of Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez.

REVIEW

Long Beach Symphony, Terrace Theater, Beverly O'Neill Performing Arts Center, Long Beach

DAVID J BROWN

… Well, third time for this writer at least (reviews here and here of Pepe Romero’s most recent concerts with the Long Beach Symphony) but doubtless many more times for longer-standing patrons of the orchestra and indeed the countless fans who have been enjoying the Romeros’ music-making for decades, many of whom must have been in the Terrace Theater for the LBSO’s February concert in the 2025-2026 Classical season, to judge by the ovation that greeted the great Spanish guitarist when he came onto the platform with Music Director Eckart Preu for a pre-concert chat.

Whereas on those two previous occasions he had played relatively unfamiliar works by his father Celedonio Romero (1913-1996) and Manolo Sanlúcar (1943-2022), this time around it was to be that most familiar of guitar concertos, the Concierto de Aranjuez by Joaquín Rodrigo (1901-1999).

Pepe Romero talked about his own friendship with Rodrigo, and then related how the concerto’s slow movement is said to have been written in reaction to the miscarriage of the Rodrigos’ first child (it’s only fair to note that some documentary evidence seems to contradict this attribution but, to quote the famous final line from the movie The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend”).

Rodrigo in 1935.

The performance itself was notably spacious, taking some 27 minutes when the average for the work is 22-23 minutes, and I did feel that the exceptionally measured pace for the outer movements (marked Allegro con brio and Allegro gentile respectively) sought an expressive weight that their relatively simple and repetitive structures are not really up to handling. The celebrated Adagio, however, whatever its provenance, was hypnotic in its gradual unfolding, from Joseph Stone’s heart-tugging opening English horn solo to the grand final statement of the main theme by Rodrigo’s full (though modest) orchestral forces and into the poignant coda.

As for Romero’s account of the solo part, it combined a sense of complete identification and ownership with an improvisatory flexibility that must at times have challenged Maestro Preu’s accompanying skills, but which, particularly in the Adagio, induced an almost preternatural hush in the capacity audience. Preu’s (unmarked) attacca between it and the finale neutralized any mood-shattering applause, and this very special partnership between soloist, conductor, and orchestra was rewarded with an instant standing ovation, only stilled by Pepe Romero’s return to the platform to play his father’s Fantasia Cubana as encore.

Gabriela Lena Frank at the time of writing Elegía Andina.

The concert had opened, as so often in Eckart Preu’s programming, with a more-or-less contemporary piece that must have been unfamiliar to orchestra and audience alike. This was Elegía Andina (2000), the first orchestral work by Gabriela Lena Frank (b.1972)—Californian by birth but of very complex ethnic heritage. Composed for modest forces (double winds, horns and trumpets, timpani, percussion, and strings: 8-6-4-4-3 in this performance) but still conjuring some imposing sounds, Elegía Andina is a response to the sounds and influences from the Peruvian strand in Frank’s ancestry.

In some introductory words Maestro Preu likened it to a day in the jungle, with early on some passages for flute to imitate the zampoña, a traditional Andean pan flute, played with atmospheric spontaneity by Heather Clark against woodblock interjections (Brian Cannady single-handedly wielding a formidable array of percussion throughout the work’s 12 minutes). Overall, it reminded me a little of both Carlos Chávez’s Sinfonía india (played a few years ago at Long Beach) and some of Villa-Lobos’s native-inspired works—and there was definitely a strand of The Rite of Spring detectable in its DNA as Elegía Andina gathered force. Played with the LBSO’s customary skill and commitment under Preu’s expert direction, this was a thoroughly worthwhile introduction to Gabriela Lena Frank’s work.

After the interval, there was no expansion of the orchestra for some late-Romantic blockbuster, but rather a two-fold experiment. First, would the small forces of Baroque music lose impact hopelessly in the voluminous expanse of the Terrace Theater? Second, given that the chosen work was Handel’s Water Music, exactly what to play? Despite the fame of the recently enthroned King George I’s 1717 “booze cruise” on the Thames (as Maestro Preu entertainingly dubbed it in his pre-performance remarks), for which the 32-year-old Handel provided music at the express royal wish, exactly what was played, by what instruments, and in what order, is lost to history.

No manuscripts in Handel’s own hand have survived, and for most of the 18th century a multiplicity of copies, keyboard arrangements and part-publications circulated until what was presumably the entire then extant set of 22 pieces was published as three suites in full score in 1788. With a total playing time of around 50 minutes, clearly so many brief items one after the other in a concert setting would prove wearisome, so Maestro Preu decided on the opening few numbers of Suite No. 1 in F major, HWV 348, followed by all five movements of Suite No. 2 in D major, HWV 349. 

Painting by Edouard Hamman (1819–1888) depicting Handel (gesturing with his right arm at
the adjacent musicians) with George I on the royal barge, July 17, 1717.

From the moment the LBSO strings swung into the Ouverture to Suite No. 1 it was clear that any concern about lack of impact was a non-starter. Despite its Largo marking this combined all the necessary majesty and vigor, confirmed by the joyous contrapuntal duetting of the two concertino violins (Agnes Gottschewski and Chloé Tardif) in the movement’s main Allegro section. In the following Adagio e staccato the pair of oboes (Rong-Huey Liu and Joseph Stone) keened expressively, while the untitled third movement introduced the enthusiastically braying horns of Preston Shepard and Adrian Dunker.

And so it continued, with the two trumpets (David Pitel and David Scott) slicing through the orchestral texture from the outset of Suite No. 2. The famous Alla Hornpipe induced a quiet audience sigh of familiarity, and inter-movement applause throughout the performance testified to its success. Indeed, I wonder if some, having noted the program listing of Suites 1 & 2 (~47 minutes), might have felt a bit short-changed when Maestro Preu brought down his baton after about 25 minutes on the water. But if this erred on the side of caution regarding audience engagement over many short Baroque movements, reward came with, as encore, the eternally popular Air on the G String second movement from J. S. Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D major, BWV 1068.

The final concert of the Long Beach Symphony's 2025-2026 Classical season will take place on Saturday, June 6, when orchestral forces as large as the LBSO has ever mustered will play Mahler's mighty Fifth Symphony, preceded by Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik—not to be missed!

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Long Beach Symphony Orchestra, Terrace Theater, Beverly O'Neill Performing Arts Center, Long Beach, Saturday, February 28, 2026, 7.30 p.m.

Images: The performance: Sue Moylan for Long Beach Symphony; Rodrigo: joaquin-rodrigo.com; Gabriela Lena Frank: Sabina Frank, courtesy sfcv.org; Handel and George I: Wikimedia Commons.

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