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La MARSeillaise… 🇫🇷~ Date-émotion: 19 Septembre 2017! J’ai eu l’honneur de chanter La Marseillaise aux côtés du Président de la République Française, Emmanuel Macron, avec un “choeur-public” de 900 personnes au théâtre 92Y de New York. 🎼🎤 🇺🇸~ A day of emotion: September 19 2017! I had the honor to sing the French anthem on the stage of 92Y theatre in New York alongside French President Emmanuel Macron and a choir-public of 900 persons! 🎤🎼 #specialday #hymne #hymnenational #lamarseillaise #marseillaise #anthem #frenchanthem #french #chanson #singer #lifeisbeautiful #honnor #frenchpresident #emmanuelmacron #kauffman #92Y #92ndstreetY #newyork #newyorkcity #ilovemylife @92ndstreety @emmanuelmacron (at 92nd Street Y)

[openingnightposts]

An Evening with Adrienne Warren: A Triple Threat Lights Up Kaufmann Concert Hall

There are evenings when a concert hall seems to catch its breath. Then there are those when it simply forgets to. On Monday, June 1, 2026, the Kaufmann Concert Hall at The 92nd Street Y belonged firmly to the second kind. Before a note had sounded or the pianist’s hands had settled at the keys, a sold-out house delivered an ovation that was so warm and immediate that it read less like applause and more like a tender embrace. Into that swell of affection walked Adrienne Warren — diminutive in stature, colossal in presence. She smiled as though she had strolled into a room full of old friends. As it happened, she had.

From Virginia Pews to the Apollo Stage: The Making of a Storyteller

What followed was less a recital than a luminous conversation. Warren delivered her Tony Award-winning portrayal of Tina Turner, “The Queen of Rock & Roll,” in Tina: The Tina Turner Musical, which was, as the program calls it, “star-making.” She has the gift of making thousands feel singular. Disarmingly, she began with her parents—two coaches who, she said, planted a love of music in her before she could spell the word, around age two. With a comedian’s timing, she revealed her first ambition was the basketball court, not the stage. Only when it became clear the necessary inches would never arrive did she pivot to theater and song. The room laughed with her, never at her—a sure sign a performer has already won.

Adrienne Warren. Courtesy adriennelwarren on Instragram

The Emotional Tension of the Song to Come

She spoke, too, of a Virginia girlhood and of early roles, including The Wiz, that first carried her in the direction of the footlights. There is a lesson in such anecdotes. Every great interpreter is, before anything else, the product of a particular place and a particular hunger. Warren wears both lightly. Her self-deprecation never changed into false modesty. Instead, it served as the connective link between numbers. Each story quietly raised the emotional tension of the song to come.

A Trio with Pedigree: Mitchell, Grey, and Christian

None of this magic would have landed without the trio behind her. Music director Michael O. Mitchell, a Yamaha-endorsed pianist and arranger, is associate conductor of Broadway’s MJ the Musical and longtime music director of Amateur Night at Harlem’s Apollo Theater. He proved an ideal foil: at times a plush cushion, at times a coiled spring. On bass, Chelton Grey anchors the Grammy-nominated MJ pit, supplying a low end felt in the sternum. On drums, Lonnie Christian, self-taught since age four in church, played with conversational sensitivity, listening as much as speaking. Together, they did what the finest accompanists always do: they made a single voice sound like an orchestra, and an orchestra sound like a confidence softly spoken across a candlelit table.

Michael O. Mitchell. Courtesy michaelmitchellmusic.com

One Voice, Many Songbooks: Jazz, Pop, and the American Standard

And what a voice. Throughout the evening, Warren moved through American music as if it were a single, borderless country. There were no walls between its provinces. She offered the swinging, evening ease of “Fly Me to the Moon” and the battered tenderness of “Good Morning Heartache,” a song forever shadowed by Billie Holiday. She honored James Taylor with “Fire and Rain.” Warren remained in the slow heat of Anita Baker’s “Sweet Love," and found the heart at the center of Roberta Flack’s “Feel Like Makin’ Love.” From the theater, she summoned the soaring “This Is the Moment” from Jekyll & Hyde, and Aida’s “Easy as Life.” She nodded to her own history with a number from Dreamgirls — the show that once carried her across the Apollo’s hallowed boards. She delivered Gershwin’s “Someone to Watch Over Me” with the intimacy the great New York cabaret rooms were built to hold. There was Sondheim’s “Send in the Clowns,” a song Barbra Streisand rendered unforgettable. And — inevitably, gloriously — there was “What’s Love Got to Do with It,” the Tina Turner anthem that helped change Warren’s life.

The Music’s Shared DNA

Watching her shuttle between idioms — jazz, pop, soul, Broadway, the Great American Songbook — offered a quiet tutorial in the music’s shared DNA. Musicologist Alec Wilder, in his study American Popular Song: The Great Innovators, argued that the standard repertoire is not only a collection but a living conversation between melody and lyric. Warren embodied that thesis in real time, refusing to treat any genre as a museum piece. The cabaret tradition’s long shadow was also present. Mabel Mercer and Bobby Short proved that a song delivered intimately, with perfect diction and sincere warmth, can level a room as surely as any aria.

Chelton Grey. Courtesy cheltongrey.com

In the Lineage of the Greats

When she wasn't singing, she moved — dancing, beaming, thanking her players, and reacting to a Mitchell fill as if hearing it for the first time. Her incredible vocal and stylistic versatility evoked Luther Vandross's interpretations, with their extraordinary emotional nuance; George Michael’s restraint, dynamics, and storytelling; Chaka Khan, who could inhabit every emotional shade; and Dusty Springfield’s famed interpretations of soul-tinged warmth. Warren belongs in their company. Like them, she knows technique is just the price of admission; feeling is the real currency. Leonard Bernstein spent a lifetime teaching that music matters most when notes become, if only briefly, the truth.

The Impossible Dream: An Encore for the Ages

The apex arrived with the encore. "The Impossible Dream," a hymn of steadfast hope from Man of La Mancha, easily curdles into bombast in lesser hands. Here, Mitchell’s accompaniment rose from hush to gospel-tinged blaze. The song became nearly a benediction. Warren sang not as a boast but as a vow. After two hours of laughter, dancing in the aisles, singing along, and expressive magic, the hall was, in the final bars, quietly and happily wrecked. That was a moment one folds and carries home.

Lonnie Christian. Courtesy @longgrooves on Instagram

Why 92NY’s Tisch Music Season Matters

That such an evening transpired at The 92nd Street Y is no accident. For more than a century, this Upper East Side institution has been a center for American culture. Its current Tisch Music season has welcomed artists from Brian Stokes Mitchell to Pierre-Laurent Aimard and continues to treat Broadway voices and concert virtuosos as equals in the republic of song. Warren made her Carnegie Hall debut with the New York Pops, studied at Marymount Manhattan College, co-founded the Tony-honored Broadway Advocacy Coalition, and is now lighting up Broadway opposite Nick Jonas in The Last Five Years. Warren is exactly the kind of artist the Y celebrates: rigorous, generous, and alive to the moment. One also thinks of Audra McDonald, proof that the Broadway-to-concert-stage tradition remains vital.

An Evening with Adrienne Warren: A Triple Threat Lights Up Kaufmann Concert Hall

Venue: Kaufmann Concert Hall at The 92nd Street Y (92NY)

Address: 1395 Lexington Avenue, New York, NY 10128

Box Office: [phone]

Tickets & 2025–26 Tisch Music Season: 92ny.org/concerts

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[openingnightposts]

Every Kind of Light: The Bergmans’ Love and Lyrics Illuminate 92NY

Entertainment can quietly rearrange the furniture of the heart. Such was the case at The 92nd Street Y in New York, where the Lyrics & Lyricists series — now in its 53rd year and still the country’s preeminent celebration of the Great American Songbook — turned its considerable affection toward Alan and Marilyn Bergman. Titled Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman, the program gathered more than five hundred songs’ worth of legacy into a single, intermission free arc of feeling, and it did so with the unhurried confidence of artists who know exactly what treasure they are handling.

Billy Stritch and Ann Hampton Callaway in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Patient, Attentive, Unafraid of Silence

The Bergmans, one recalls, were married for the duration — a partnership of more than six decades, with both living into their late nineties — and that fact is by no means incidental to their work. Indeed, their lyrics behave like a long marriage: patient, attentive, unafraid of silence, and attuned to the small revelations that accrue when two people pay close attention to one another over time. To spend an evening in their catalog, therefore, is to be reminded that the most durable popular songs are seldom the loudest; more often, they are the ones that name a feeling we had assumed was ours alone.

L-R: Billy Stritch, Ann Hampton Callaway, Nikki Renée Daniels, Brandon Victor Dixon, and Ali Stoker. On Bass, Michael O'Brien, Drums, Eric Halvorson, and Reeds, Aaron Heick in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Billy Stritch and Ann Hampton Callaway: Hosts Who Know the Terrain

The evening’s gravitational center was Billy Stritch, who entered to extended applause and, smiling, accepted it as an old friend accepts a warm room. By now, Stritch is nearly ubiquitous in the New York Songbook ecosystem — you will find him at Birdland and elsewhere almost any week — and his value is easy to state yet hard to overpraise. At the piano, whether soloing or accompanying, he honors the precise emotive intent of composer, lyricist, and singer alike, never mistaking decoration for devotion. His arrangements breathed; moreover, they left room.

Ann Hampton Callaway and Billy Stritch. Photo by Georga Osborne

As Perfect as a Snowflake

Beside him, co-host Ann Hampton Callaway served as both narrator and witness, having known the Bergmans personally. In her program note, she describes their words as “as perfect as a snowflake” and fondly recalls sitting in “the room where it happened” as their songs were born. That intimacy registered onstage; consequently, when Callaway spoke of friendship, you believed her, and when she sang, you understood why Barbra Streisand recorded so many of the songs Callaway grew up studying. Dick Scanlan and Malcolm Gets shaped the evening by providing the script, with Scanlan directing and Rommy Sandhu choreographing. They structured the night as a conversation and celebration rather than a formal recital.

Nikki Renée Daniels in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Three Soloists, and Every Kind of Light

While the hosts provided the event’s framework, three featured soloists brought vibrancy and color to the program. Nikki Renée Daniels, her soprano luminous and unforced, made “The Summer Knows” ache and “Papa, Can You Hear Me?” tremble; she sang as though the lyric were being discovered in real time.

Billy Stritch and Brandon Victor Dixon in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Brandon Victor Dixon performed "Nice 'n' Easy," bringing a misty, intimate ease to the classic Bergman lyric (music by Lew Spence) and lending a discreet devastation to "Where Do You Start?," a powerful breakup song about dividing a shared life. Ali Stroker, a Tony Award winner, also took the stage with "How Do You Keep the Music Playing?" singing with such open-hearted candor that the question ceased to be rhetorical. Her guiding motto — turning limitations into opportunities — felt, at that moment, less like a slogan than a working philosophy of art.

Nikki Renée Daniels, Ali Stoker, and Brandon Victor Dixon in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Unanimity That Cannot Be Rehearsed

Together, in ensemble numbers such as “The Best of Friends,” the three discovered the blend that distinguishes a true company from a mere lineup of stars: generous, listening, and willing to recede so that an individual phrase might land. Time and again, the result was the kind of unanimity that cannot be rehearsed into being; it can only be felt. One sensed, watching them, that they were not performing the Bergmans so much as keeping faith with them — handing the lyrics forward, intact and warm, as one passes along a treasured family story.

Ali Syroker. Courtesy allistroker.com

The Band, the Room, and the Moving Image

Behind the singers, a world-class ensemble gave the Bergmans’ melodies their proper backing: Aaron Heick on reeds, Michael O’Brien on bass, Eric Halvorson on drums, and Andy Ezrin on keyboards, with Stritch presiding over the Steinway. They swung when the material called for it and dissolved into mist when it did not.

Equally worthy of praise was the visual design. A large upstage screen changed color, tone, and mood as the songs moved from story to film to memory—projection design by Kylee Loera and Greg Emetaz, lit with distinguished sophistication by John Kelly—so that the evening became a kind of time travel, with famous movie moments flickering past like memory itself. Nothing gaudy, everything choreographed with care. One left convinced that good design, much like good lyric writing, succeeds precisely when you stop noticing the seams.

Nikki Renée Daniels. Photo by Kyle Flubacker. Courtesy nikkireneedaniels.com

Why These Songs Endure

A little context earns its keep here. The Bergmans belonged to a distinguished lineage — alongside Michel Legrand, Marvin Hamlisch, Johnny Mandel, and Dave Grusin — that married jazz’s harmonic sophistication to the narrative clarity of theater and film. Theirs was the art of the title song, the three-minute screenplay: a complete emotional argument delivered before the credits roll. It is telling that two of the night’s sly pleasures, “Nice ’n’ Easy” and “That Face,” date from the Bergmans’ earliest partnership with composer Lew Spence, when they were crafting wry, finger-snapping confections for Frank Sinatra. Thus, when Callaway invoked “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?” and “You Must Believe in Spring,” she was knowingly pointing to a tradition in which the cinema, the cabaret, and the Broadway stage all fed one wide river.

Ann Hampton Callaway in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Music Is a Living Conversation

It is worth remembering, too, that the Songbook is no museum. The inclusion of a Stephen Sondheim interpolation — “Everybody Says Don’t” — within the Bergman canon reminded us that this music is a living conversation among writers across generations, and that a lyric written for one film can, decades later, become an act of communion in a concert hall on Lexington Avenue. In that sense, the program was less a retrospective than a relay race, the baton passed hand to loving hand.

Brandon Victor Dixon. Courtesy brandonvictordixon.com

A Legacy Deserving Seeking Out

By the closing sequence — “The Way We Were,” then “And Then There’s Maude” — the room had achieved that rare, shared stillness in which strangers briefly become an audience in the truest sense. Fittingly, Callaway ends her program note with an exclamation that doubles as the evening’s thesis: “What a deep heritage!” Indeed. To celebrate the Bergmans, ultimately, is to affirm the proposition that tenderness, attended to with craft, outlasts nearly everything.

Billy Stritch in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Safest in The Hands of People Who Love It

That proposition is precisely what the Lyrics & Lyricists series has protected for more than half a century and what 92NY’s broader 2025–26 season continues to nurture. If this concert proved anything, it is that the American Songbook is safest in the hands of people who love it enough to take it seriously — and who remain joyful enough to make us fall for it all over again.

Billy Stritch and Nikki Renée Daniels. On Keyboards, Andy Ezrin, and on Bass, Michael O'Brien, in "Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman" at the 92ND Street Y, NYC. Photo by Richard Termine

Every Kind of Light: The Bergmans’ Love and Lyrics Illuminate 92NY

Every Kind of Light: The Love and Lyrics of Alan & Marilyn Bergman

Venue: David Geffen Stage at the Kaufmann Concert Hall, The 92nd Street Y, New York

1395 Lexington Avenue (at 92nd Street), New York, NY 10128

[phone]

Tickets & 2025–26 Season: 92ny.org — Lyrics & Lyricists

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[openingnightposts]

A Pianist of Uncommon Sovereignty: Marc-André Hamelin at the 92nd Street Y

In an evening of breathtaking range, Canadian virtuoso Marc-André Hamelin delivered a program that was nothing less than a tour through the entire kingdom of the modern piano

Some pianists perform a concert, while others inhabit one. On the night of February 18, 2026, Marc-André Hamelin belonged emphatically to the second category. Seated at a gleaming Steinway on the stage of the David Geffen Stage at the Kaufmann Concert Hall — the storied concert room of The 92nd Street Y — Hamelin offered not merely a recital but an act of sovereign imagination, traversing two and a half centuries of musical thought with a command so total it seemed, at moments, almost suspiciously effortless.

Interpretive Intelligence

The program itself was an act of intellectual audacity: a labyrinthine journey from Haydn's crystalline classicism to the fevered Romanticism of Rachmaninoff, with illuminating stops at Zappa, Wolpe, Oswald, and Medtner along the way. Moreover, what made the evening truly remarkable was not the range itself — formidable as it was — but the absolute consistency of interpretive intelligence and communicative warmth Hamelin brought to every bar of every work on the program.

First Half: From Enlightenment Wit to Expressionist Fire

Haydn — Sonata in D Major, Hob. XVI:37

Hamelin opened with Franz Joseph Haydn's sparkling Sonata in D Major (Hob. XVI:37, 1780) — and immediately, one grasped the intelligence of the program's design. His Haydn was all wit, elegance, and affectionate command. The opening Allegro con brio unfurled with luminous clarity of voicing, every ornamental figure placed with absolute precision, every dynamic shade calibrated to perfection. The figurations were executed not with the rote fluency of the technically proficient, but with the living spontaneity of someone who clearly loves this music with his whole heart.

Marc-Andre Hamelin. Courtesy marcandrehamelin.com Cheerful and Propulsive

The central Largo e sostenuto was a master class in the expressive possibilities of restraint — his tone darkened and deepened, the aching dissonances of D minor voiced with a tenderness that made the return of the sunlit major key feel, for a suspended moment, genuinely surprising. The concluding Presto ma non troppo arrived like a gust of exuberant air, cheerful and propulsive, warm and spirited. Each movement was, in sum, fresh and performed with complete aplomb — honoring the sophistication of Haydn's oeuvre with both intellectual respect and human warmth.

Zappa — Ruth Is Sleeping: A Rock Star Meets the Second Viennese School

The transition to Frank Zappa's Ruth Is Sleeping (1993, arr. A. Askin) was, in retrospect, both startling and inevitable. Zappa, who in his final years turned his formidable creative energies from rock provocation toward concert works of genuine harmonic sophistication, left in this Synclavier-born piece a work whose language — bristling with tritones, sharp-nine chords, and tightly clustered dissonances one associates with Berg and Webern — sits unmistakably in the orbit of the Second Viennese School.

Virtuosic Interpretation

Hamelin, who champions the work on his Hyperion Records album Found Objects / Sound Objects (October 2025), performed it here in a solo transcription, with splendid results throughout. The complex harmonic architecture was navigated with a structural clarity that made the demanding seem luminous, the rhythmic energy relentless but never mechanical. This was a virtuosic interpretation of an extraordinarily challenging work, and it confirmed what the cognoscenti have long known: Hamelin's fearlessness as a programmer is matched, note for note, by his fearlessness as a performer.

Wolpe — Passacaglia: The Geometry of Exile

If Zappa brought the Second Viennese School's atmosphere into the hall, then Stefan Wolpe's Passacaglia (1933) made that relationship explicit. Wolpe composed this stark and monumental work in Jerusalem, where he had fled after becoming an early Nazi target. Built from a simple series of expanding intervals and eleven derivative rows, the entire edifice rises from this germinal material with the rigor of a cathedral constructed from a single cornerstone.

Marc-Andre Hamelin on stage at the 92Y. Photo by Edward Kliszus Color, Ritual, and Psychological Atmosphere

The contrapuntal opening was rhythmically incisive and tonally severe, carrying within it the Expressionist atmosphere of early twentieth-century German art. Furthermore, there were atonal admixtures — structures that dissolve traditional tonal gravity while retaining expressive clarity and acoustic beauty — reminiscent of the deeply personal sound-worlds of George Crumb, where atonality functions not as system but as color, ritual, and psychological atmosphere. Hamelin brought to it all the energy of a man untangling a particularly beautiful and complex knot, and the long, martial, monorhythmic final section arrived with the force of a historical reckoning.

Oswald — Tip: An Iceberg of Musical Memory

By brilliant contrast came John Oswald's Tip (2021), commissioned by Hamelin from his fellow Canadian. A kaleidoscopic mosaic of quotations from the core pianistic repertoire — woven together with wit and structural intelligence akin to the cleverly designed miniatures of Peter Schickele — the work conjures, from the briefest gestures, an entire universe of musical association. Throughout, one caught fleeting shadows of Debussy, Chopin, Satie, Beethoven, Scott Joplin, Gershwin, and Vince Guaraldi. Hamelin performed it with a natural, charming expressiveness that made the piece feel less like an intellectual exercise and more like a genuine act of affection toward the history of the keyboard, and the audience responded with a delight that bordered on astonishment.

From Romantic Twilight to Symphonic Storm

Medtner — Improvisation & Danza festiva: The Last Romantic

Following the intermission, Hamelin offered a pair of works by Nikolai Medtner — the Improvisation in B-flat Minor (Op. 31, No. 1) and the vivid Danza festiva (Op. 38, No. 3) — and in doing so paid tribute to one of music's most stubbornly magnificent figures. Medtner, the last of the great Romantic composer-pianists, held fast to that tradition deep into the twentieth century, championed throughout his career by Rachmaninoff himself.

Not Merely Velocity but Poetic Lightness

Hamelin's Medtner was ravishing. The Improvisation — a memorial to a young pianist friend — unfolded as free-flowing variations on a brooding theme, and Hamelin lavished it with a tonal warmth and singing legato that recalled the finest late-nineteenth-century Romantic tradition. The passages of lightning-fast, airy filigree — delicate, gossamer phrases requiring not merely velocity but poetic lightness — were executed with serene mastery, seeming to float above the keyboard. The Danza festiva, by contrast, was a village celebration in sound, complete with clangorous bells and athletic dancing, shot through with a scherzo-like wit that Hamelin dispatched with magisterial ease. The scherzo sections were particularly picturesque and challenging — and completely tamed.

Rachmaninoff — Étude-Tableau & Sonata No. 2: Magnificent Summits

The concert's final chapter belonged to Sergei Rachmaninoff, and it was magnificent. The Étude-Tableau in E-flat Minor (Op. 39, No. 5, 1917) arrived with unabashed passion and ferocious chromatic density. Rich in bold harmonicism, melodic power, and bravura, the work's dense textures were navigated with structural clarity that never allowed the lyricism within to be overwhelmed by the sheer mass of sound. In turns turbulent and transcendent, it seemed to bear the entire weight of a civilization on the verge of irreversible transformation.

Bravura and Intellect

Then came the Piano Sonata No. 2 in B-flat Minor (Op. 36, 1931 revision) — and here one must simply say: it was an experience of the kind that justifies concert-going as a way of life. The opening Allegro agitato struck the hall with devastating force. Those accented chords like hammer blows, the primary theme in the left hand's tenor register, establish its motive of descending chromatic tones with quiet inevitability. Hamelin played it with bravura and intellect, the full orchestral range of the piano's dynamic palette deployed in service of structural argument never lost beneath the sonic splendor.

L-R Sergei Rachmaninoff, by George Grantham Bain, Public Domain. Claude Debussy portrait (1908) by Otto Wegener. Public Domain. Unfettered Streams of Consciousness

The Non allegro — Lento was ravishing: pensive, luminous, transcendent, its harmonic and melodic elements hovering in the air with an almost sacred quality — a pavane, a sonic orison, music that seems to stand entirely outside of ordinary time. Unfettered streams of consciousness flowed through the movement, melodic poetry of the highest order. And then the finale — L'istesso tempo — Allegro molto — arrived with a cascade of fortissimo chords tumbling downward like a controlled avalanche, the whole extraordinary structure brought to its thunderous close in a way that felt simultaneously inevitable and almost unbearably exciting.

The audience rose immediately and entirely, their sustained ovation filling the Kaufmann with the warmth that can only be earned. Hamelin had earned it magnificently and expressed thanks with a final tribute to Debussy and his own composition, “The Music Box.”

A Portrait of the Pianist

What this recital demonstrated most powerfully was precisely the quality that makes Marc-André Hamelin singular among pianists of his generation — not merely the formidable technique (though that is extraordinary), nor the astonishing breadth of repertoire (though that too is unmatched), but the sovereign intellectual curiosity that animates everything he does.

Born in Montreal and based in the Boston area, Hamelin has assembled a discography of more than 90 albums as an exclusive artist for Hyperion Records. As a composer, he has written more than thirty works — including the Toccata on L'homme armé commissioned by the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition, and the Mazurka commissioned by the Library of Congress. He teaches on the faculty of the New England Conservatory of Music. Among his honors: seven Juno Awards, eleven Grammy nominations, the Jean Gimbel Lane Prize from Northwestern University, the Paul de Hueck Career Achievement Award from the Ontario Arts Foundation, the Lifetime Achievement Award from the German Record Critics' Association, Officer of the Order of Canada, Chevalier de l'Ordre national du Québec, and member of the Royal Society of Canada.

Exceptionally Interesting, Challenging, and Thoroughly Enjoyable Concert Experience

What I enjoyed most about this concert was the extraordinary range of styles and genres Hamelin performed with equal aplomb. This shows not only his artistic genius, interpretive flexibility, and broad abilities, but also provides an audience with an exceptionally interesting, challenging, and thoroughly enjoyable concert experience. To attend a Hamelin recital is to be reminded, with every passing bar, that the piano repertoire is not a canon but a cosmos — and that there exists, at its center, a musician uniquely equipped to be its guide.

A Pianist of Uncommon Sovereignty: Marc-André Hamelin at the 92nd Street Y

THE 92ND STREET Y, NEW YORK NY

David Geffen Stage at the Kaufmann Concert Hall 1395 Lexington Avenue, New York, NY 10128 Tel: [phone]

Official Website   |   Current Concert Season   |   Purchase Tickets   |   Donate & Support 92NY   |   Marc-André Hamelin Official Site

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[openingnightposts]

A Night of Resonant Memory: Steven Isserlis and Connie Shih at the 92nd Street Y

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On a luminous evening at the historic 92nd Street Y, the Kaufmann Concert Hall appeared to breathe history and poetry. The chamber music concert by Steven Isserlis and Connie Shih was more than a performance—it was a genuinely human meditation, formed by remembrance, resilience, and the enduring voice of music. Focused intent, reflected in the program materials, set the evening apart from a standard recital.

In retrospect, the program’s architecture emerged. Each work honored artists defined by struggle—deafness, exile, illness, or untimely death. Yet Isserlis and Shih refused to dwell in sorrow; instead, these accounts became acts of affirmation. As Carl Dahlhaus writes on Romanticism, suffering refines artistic expression into something truer, more distilled. That idea lingered above the evening’s offerings.

Beethoven’s Wit and Wonder: Variations on “The Magic Flute”

The recital opened with Ludwig van Beethoven’s 12 Variations on a Theme from The Magic Flute by Mozart—a piece integrating an eloquent musical commentary of practicality and imagination. Early in his career, Beethoven aimed to impress, particularly a cello-loving Prussian king. Yet the work shines with wit, invention, and structural poise.

Beethoven in 1814. (etching by Blasius Höfel after a drawing by Louis Letronne). Public Domain via Wikipedia Commons

A Balance of Delicacy and Spontaneity

From the opening phrase, Isserlis embodied all one hopes for in an artist of his stature: expressive, animated, virtuosic, and unpretentious. His phrasing possessed the cadence of speech—each variation felt freshly discovered. Shih was not purely an accompanist. She offered a finely etched framework, her articulation crisp and tonal palette luminous.

A memorable moment arose during the minor-key variation, when Beethoven’s music briefly becomes more reflective. Isserlis evoked a quiet solemnity here, a subtle shadow in an otherwise lively venture. Even as a young man, Beethoven explored deep emotions. This performance showcased a balance of delicacy, effervescence, and spontaneity, as well as intellect and warmth, qualities often highlighted in erudite discussions of Beethoven’s music. A recent article by Benjamin Reissenberger and Eric Hoeprich explores the origins and performance practices of Schumann’s Fantasiestücke, Op. 73, granting further insight into the work’s expressive possibilities.

The Cello Became Less an Instrument and More a Voice

When the program shifted to Robert Schumann’s Fantasiestücke, Op. 73, the atmosphere changed to devotional rapture, exquisite joinings, and subtle expressive content. Composed in a year of intense creativity and political unrest, this work turns inward—it sings akin to musical monologues.

Isserlis’s tone was spellbinding—rich and burnished, yet able to dissolve toward whispers at the edge of audibility. The cello became less an instrument and more a voice: confiding, not proclaiming. Shih’s sensitivity was remarkable as she matched this intimacy, her phrasing breathing in tandem with Isserlis’s lines.

Steven Isserlis, Cellist. Courtesy stevenisserlis.com

The performance evoked both Schumann’s troubled inner life and, to me, the heartbreaking legacy of Jacqueline du Pré, whose Romantic interpretations with Gerald Moore at the piano are landmarks of brilliance and emotional honesty. Like du Pré, Isserlis treated the music as something to fully experience, not just to perform.

The program materials suggested that these works speak in a language of inward reflection rather than outward display—a sentiment fully realized in this performance. Every phrase appeared to carry the burden of an implicit thought.

Kabalevsky, Rostropovich, and the Continuity of Tradition

With Dmitri Kabalevsky’s cello sonata, the mood became more dramatic. The sonata’s links to Mstislav Rostropovich and the unfinished work of Sergei Prokofiev gave it a clear sense of provenance beyond the score itself.

The Andante molto sostenuto began with dignity, its melodic lines unfolding patiently. Isserlis displayed artistic authority, letting tension build. Shih anchored the music with clearness and precision, ensuring structure even in volatile moments.

The dialogue between the cello and the piano was noteworthy. Instead of one leading, both instruments shaped and replied to each other. This approach matches music scholar Richard Taruskin’s idea of performance as a conversation between artists, past and present.

Kaprálová’s Voice: Fleeting and Enduring

The inclusion of Vítězslava Kaprálová’s Deux ritournelles offered one of the evening’s most poignant moments. A composer of extraordinary promise, Kaprálová died at 25, her career tragically cut short.

This late work carries a tonal freshness that belies its turbulent expressions. Traces of Poulenc's wit and Copland's clarity surface, and though Boulanger's tutelage is audible, the voice remains unmistakably Kaprálová's—its textures vibrant, its utterance direct, distinct, imaginative, and expressive.

Vítězslav Kaprál, Vítězslava Kaprálová and Bohuslav Martinů. Public Domain via Wikipedia Commons

Knowing that part of Kaprálová’s work was lost during wartime makes the surviving music even more poignant. What remains appears both full and incomplete—a glimpse of a voice history almost silenced.

Isserlis and Shih performed the piece with tenderness and vitality, allowing it to resound fully despite its brevity. In doing so, they briefly restored a voice that deserves to be heard.

Beethoven’s Expansive Vision: Sonata No. 3 in A Major

The evening closed with Beethoven’s Cello Sonata No. 3 in A Major, a landmark of chamber music. Written in his so-called "middle period," it expresses a surge likely inspired by Beethoven’s confrontation with deafness.

From the cello’s unaccompanied opening, Isserlis established profound, effulgent expressivity—his sound, rich and vocal, carried intimacy and grandeur. When Shih entered, the partnership expanded, creating a sonic panorama of symphonic breadth.

Each movement unfolded inevitably. The scherzo sparkled, the slow movement was calm, and the finale surged joyfully. The duo balanced precision with spontaneity, structure with freedom.

Musicologist Donald Francis Tovey noted that Beethoven’s chamber works often turn grand symphonic ideas into more personal forms. This performance brought that insight to life. The effect wasn't merely impressive; it was paradigm-shifting.

Connie Shih, Piano. Courtesy conniekshih.wixsite.com

The Encore: Schumann’s Quiet Benediction

After an extended standing ovation—one that came across less like applause and more like collective gratitude—Isserlis and Shih returned for an encore of rare poignancy: Schumann’s Sängers Trost (“The Poet’s Comfort”), Op. 127 No. 1.

In context, this encore felt necessary. With its gentle triplets and elegiac lyricism, the piece offered a musical farewell. This musical denouement was consoling rather than mournful. Its imagery suggests a poet at rest, embraced by nature and peace beyond grief.

Isserlis played with exquisite restraint, graceful and glittering, poetic speech in song. The cello’s simple line felt sacred as Shih’s accompaniment shimmered with gentle elegance. There was no need for display—only sincerity.

In its brevity, the piece gathered the evening into a single exalted gesture. The program’s tragedies—Beethoven’s deafness, Schumann’s inner demons, Kaprálová’s early demise—were not erased, but gently transformed.

This was not a finale, but a benediction.

Robert Schumann. Author unknown. Public Domain via Wikipedia Commons

A Living Tradition: The Cello as Voice

What united the evening was not only its thematic coherence but its embodiment of a larger musical tradition. The cello, once a supporting instrument in Baroque ensembles, has evolved into one of the most expressive and sensually dazzling solo voices in Western music. Its timbre—so often compared to the human voice—makes it uniquely capable of articulating both anguish and hope through sheer melodic rapture.

Isserlis, both performer and scholar of irresistible magnetism, stands firmly within this lineage. The majesty and poetry of his playing show a nonpareil mastery of technique and history. He reminds us of the cello’s capacity in the artist’s hands to carry memory across the generations.

Shih was an ideal partner: attentive, imaginative, engaged. Together, they embodied chamber music’s essence—a ravishing collaboration and dialogue, not hierarchy or display.

Music as Memory, Memory as Music

This concert rose above performance; it became remembrance and a confirmation of art’s endurance. In a fragmented, noisy world, Isserlis and Shih offered rare coherence and beauty borne of afflatus and supreme artistry. As Schumann’s encore faded, it felt less an ending than a continued thread—uniting past to present, loss to renewal.

A Night of Resonant Memory: Steven Isserlis and Connie Shih at the 92nd Street Y

Concert Title: Steven Isserlis and Connie Shih Recital Venue: 92nd Street Y Address: 1395 Lexington Avenue, New York, NY 10128 Contact: [phone]

For tickets and season information, visit the official 92nd Street Y website and follow the ongoing international recital work of Steven Isserlis and Connie Shih through their respective artist platforms.

https://youtu.be/8P4f6tlMbqM?si=KLVDP3xs6OaLXuxN

[openingnightposts]

Gabriel Kahane and Roomful of Teeth Conjure a Multidimensional Marvel at 92NY

On a soft April afternoon, when Manhattan wore its early-spring light like a quiet confidence, something genuinely miraculous unfolded inside the David Geffen Stage at the Kaufmann Concert Hall. The 92nd Street Y — that venerable hive of high culture and civic imagination on Lexington Avenue — offered its audience a program that, to this listener, felt more like a carefully arranged passage between worlds than a concert. Gabriel Kahane, pilgrim-songwriter and miniaturist of the American psyche, shared the stage with Roomful of Teeth, the two-time Grammy-winning vocal band whose very existence constitutes a polite riot against what the human voice has been asked to do for the last four hundred years. Together, they offered a meditation on memory, mortality, and the quiet miracles that happen when one stranger sits down next to another.

The Songwriter as Pilgrim: Kahane Opens Alone

Kahane walked to the microphone the way a kind stranger might enter a train car — unhurried, attentive, immediately ready to listen. Guitar in hand, he began with “Little Love,” a tender ballad from his 2018 song cycle Book of Travelers, the diary-in-music of a nearly 9,000-mile railway journey undertaken the morning after the 2016 election. “Baedeker” followed, then a newer piece, “Limping Waltz,” which he offered, as he explained, like a candle held up to Minneapolis. These are small songs in the way a Chardin still life is small: deceptively modest, faintly domestic, and absolutely devastating if you stop for a moment to look. Later, seated at the piano, Kahane performed “October 1, 1939 / Port of Hamburg,” its lyrics drawn from his grandmother’s wartime diary as she fled Germany, and, still later, “To Be American.” The hall went very quiet.

Gabriel Kahane on Guitar. Photo by Scott Shrader

Prose as Melody, Melody as Conscience

One resists the obvious comparisons at first. Nevertheless, Kahane belongs squarely in a lineage — Paul Simon as confessor, John Lennon as ethicist, Joni Mitchell, James Taylor, Jackson Browne — that once soundtracked a nation’s self-examination. Like them, he writes prose as if it were melody, and melody as if it were conscience. Kahane is arguably one of the finest songwriters of the day, and the claim, asserted at this gathering, was simply indisputable. As a raconteur, Kahane is gentle at times, sentimental, but never glib. Rather, he is a reader of American life in the tradition that runs from Whitman to Elizabeth Bishop — a writer for whom concision is, to borrow a phrase, the aristocracy of feeling.

“The Isle”: Caroline Shaw’s Tempest in Eight Voices

After a brief, sweetly improvised “Happy Birthday” for Sally, perched on the balcony, the eight singers of Roomful of Teeth filed onto the stage, each moving toward a microphone — a small but consequential decision that allowed every gasp, whisper, click, and silvery high note to emerge with intimacy and perfect balance. They then offered Caroline Shaw’s “The Isle,” her spellbinding 2023 five-part setting inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest, commissioned for the ensemble and featured on their Grammy-winning 2023 album Rough Magic.

Gabriel Kahane portrait for Nonesuch Records, August 2025. Photo by Jason Quigley. Hisses,  Buzzings, and Twanglings

Shaw — the youngest-ever Pulitzer laureate in music and a founding member of the ensemble — fashioned a twenty-minute voyage across the island’s acoustic weather: a prologue and epilogue framing three monologue-movements for Ariel, Caliban, and Prospero. Ariel breathes into being through murmurs, birdlike flickerings, and ascending lines; Caliban grumbles and mourns; Prospero gathers the storm and bids it farewell. Shaw’s vocal writing is, in effect, an argument — couched in hisses and buzzings and twanglings — that Shakespeare’s noises, sounds, and sweet airs were always, in fact, music waiting for us to learn how to sing them.

Pristine Western Choral Blend

Consequently, the performance flowed between hypnotic hush and rapturous wail. The ensemble — sopranos Mingjia Chen and Martha Cluver, altos Eliza Bagg and Virginia Kelsey, tenors Jodie Landau and Steven Bradshaw, baritone Thann Scoggin, and bass Cameron Beauchamp — displayed the technical discipline (Tuvan throat-singing, yodel, belt, sigh, glottal catch, expert management of chest and head voice and nasality for effect, and a pristine Western choral blend) that has become, since the group’s 2009 founding at MASS MoCA, a kind of lingua franca for the American a cappella avant-garde. Here was the human voice in fullest flower: eight instruments, a single lung, a room entirely spellbound.

Room Full of Teeth. Are we done yet? Courtesy roomfulofteeth.org

“Elevator Songs”: A Surreal Hotel of the Soul

After the intermission, the audience stepped into Kahane’s and Roomful of Teeth’s new collaborative suite, Elevator Songs, released this month on Nonesuch Records. The program notes promised a high-concept, multidimensional hotel with a time-traveling elevator and a quirky clientele — and the performance, delightfully, did not disappoint. A softly struck vibraphone stood in for the ding of an arriving floor; marimba, synth, bass drum, and violin (provided by the singers themselves) rounded out the toolkit. Each ensemble member took a turn at the center microphone, stepping from the collective into a soloist and graciously back again.

Fizzy Hooks Gave Way to Slippery Harmonic Turns

Kahane opened the suite with “You Won’t Be Traveling Today,” and from there the hotel’s residents emerged: a mother in “St. Vincent’s Hospital,” a hot-tub philosopher, a sophomore-slump songwriter, and a grieving lover whose “Memory Burns.” Kahane is among today’s most insightful wordsmiths, and the hall discovered why: fizzy hooks gave way to slippery harmonic turns, and counterpoint occasionally dipped into hymn before leaping into pop ecstasy.

If one were feeling genealogical, one might place Elevator Songs in the rare company of rock’s conceptual first-person narrators: The Who’s Tommy (1969), The Pretty Things’ S.F. Sorrow (1968), and the esoteric Nirvana (UK) curio The Story of Simon Simopath (1967). Those pop-prophets built castles in the listener’s head; Kahane and Roomful of Teeth, lovelier and stranger, have built a hotel — then handed us the key.

Voices as Instruments, Singers as Characters

Perhaps what one treasured most was the chance to hear each singer individually. Eliza Bagg’s porcelain soprano — which Pitchfork once compared to something not quite of this world — found a mirror in Martha Cluver’s warmer, more conversational light. Mingjia Chen lit certain phrases like a struck match. Jodie Landau traded marimba mallets for a mic stand with ease, revealing the seasoned theater-maker behind the percussionist. Virginia Kelsey and Steven Bradshaw lent dusk to the middle voices, while Thann Scoggin and Cameron Beauchamp — the latter the group’s co-artistic director — anchored the ensemble with grave, generous lower registers. Meanwhile, the point was unmistakable: these are not merely section players but soloists who have agreed, out of love and curiosity, to sing together.

Elevator Songs Album Cover. Courtesy roomfulofteeth.org

A Hall That Still Believes in Audiences

The 92nd Street Y, founded in 1874 and now in its second year under Tisch Music Executive Director Nicholas Russotto, continues to earn long-standing praise and, simply put, is one of the city’s best concert spaces. On this Sunday, with sunlight slanting through Lexington Avenue and the Tempest’s airy spirits still drifting through the rafters, the claim felt indisputable. One emerged onto the street a little gentler, a little more curious, and — let us be honest — somewhat in love

Gabriel Kahane and Roomful of Teeth Conjure a Multidimensional Marvel at 92NY

Concert Information & Upcoming Tour Dates

Concert: Roomful of Teeth with Gabriel Kahane — Elevator Songs

Venue: David Geffen Stage at the Kaufmann Concert Hall, The 92nd Street Y, New York

Address: 1395 Lexington Avenue, New York, NY 10128

Phone: [phone]

Tickets & 2025/26 Tisch Music Season: 92NY Concerts

Roomful of Teeth — upcoming tour dates: roomfulofteeth.org/shows

Gabriel Kahane — tour schedule & recital performances: gabrielkahane.com

Album: Elevator Songs on Bandcamp · Rough Magic (Roomful of Teeth)

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[openingnightposts]

An Evening With Laura Benanti at 92NY: A Cabaret of Wit, Memory, and Musical Grace

From the moment Laura Benanti stepped onto the stage of 92NY, the air seemed to lift. Applause arrived not as a courtesy but as a reunion—extended, affectionate, and unmistakably earned. The audience, visibly primed with anticipation, greeted her as one greets an old friend sorely missed. That affection would return at evening’s end, swelling again into sustained ovation and two warmly received encores.

Laura Benanti in An Evening with Laura Benanti at the 92nd Street Y, New York City, with Todd Almond, music director and pianist, Ann Klein, guitar, Cat Popper, bass, and Rich Mercurio, drums. Photo Credit Richard Termine

This was not merely a concert. It was a cabaret in the fullest, most civilized sense: a shared space of storytelling, music, memory, and intelligence, shaped by collaboration and guided by taste.

Laura Benanti in An Evening with Laura Benanti at the 92nd Street Y, New York City, with Ann Klein, guitar, and Cat Popper, bass. Photo Credit Richard Termine

Cabaret as Conversation

Cabaret, at its best, is not a parade of songs but a conversation between artist and audience, past and present, text and subtext. Benanti understands this instinctively. From the outset, she was humorous, candid, and irresistibly charming, using personal anecdotes not as digressions but as dramaturgy—giving each song context, immediacy, and emotional contour.

Her tone was light without being trivial, confessional without indulgence. She invited us in, and we followed gladly.

Laura Benanti. Courtesy Laura Benanti.com

Eliza Doolittle Revisited: My Fair Lady

Benanti opened with selections from My Fair Lady, slipping once more—effortlessly—into the role of Eliza Doolittle. What emerged was not impersonation but inhabitation. Through “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly,” “Just You Wait,” “The Rain in Spain,” “I Could Have Danced All Night,” and “Show Me,” she conjured an entire Edwardian world.

Her Cockney accent was richly shaded, her phrasing alive with intention. With subtle narrative brushstrokes, she allowed us to meet not only Eliza but also Henry Higgins, Colonel Pickering, Freddy Eynsford-Hill, and Mrs. Higgins—each character briefly illuminated, then gently set back into the flow of memory. It was a masterclass in characterization through song.

Todd Almond, music director, singer, and pianist for An Evening with Laura Benanti at the 92nd Street Y, New York City. Photo Credit Richard Termine

Sondheim, Memory, and the Shape of Loss

Benanti’s reverence for Stephen Sondheim is well documented, but here it felt intimate rather than ceremonial. Her performance of “Without You” from Company was spare, unsentimental, and quietly devastating—loss rendered not as melodrama, but as a fact of weather, inevitable and endured.

“I Remember Days” from Evening Primrose followed, sung with hushed intensity. Memory, that most Woolfian of currents, flowed through the room—not nostalgia, but recognition. The song hovered, suspended between then and now, reminding us how musical theater can hold time without fixing it.

Laura Benanti. Courtesy laurabenanti.com

Todd Almond and the Architecture of the Evening

At the piano was Todd Almond, serving as music director, arranger, composer, and performer. Stylistic fluency and emotional intelligence distinguish Almond’s musicianship. His arrangements moved seamlessly between Broadway lyricism, country-rock inflection, jazz idiom, and baroque parody, all while maintaining structural clarity.

When Benanti turned to Almond’s original songs—“Mother Is a Liar,” “I’m Always Gonna Love You,” and “Here Come the Good Man”—the evening deepened. These works, grounded in family life and emotional truth, allowed Benanti to sing not about experience but from within it. Her physicality in “Here Come the Good Man,” animated by movement and character, reminded us that she is as compelling an actor with her body as with her voice.

Almond’s solo moment—an uproarious meditation on love, marriage, and jealousy, underpinned by a sly J. S. Bach pastiche—was both musically sophisticated and joyously self-aware. It landed exactly where comedy should: precise, surprising, and human.

Laura Benanti and Todd Almond, music director, singer, and pianist, in An Evening with Laura Benanti at the 92nd Street Y, New York City. Photo credit Richard Termine

The Ensemble: Musicians in Dialogue

The musicians were not accompaniment but interlocutors.

Ann Klein on guitar brought tonal color and rhythmic nuance, her playing alternately supple and incisive. Cat Popper’s bass anchored the evening with warmth and authority, while Rich Mercurio’s drumming was alert, responsive, and tastefully restrained.

Together, the ensemble functioned as a breathing organism—listening, shaping, responding.

Transformation, Satire, and Theatrical Mischief

Benanti’s return in her now-famous Melania Trump persona—complete with blond wig and razor-sharp comic precision—was a reminder of her range. The spoof, delivered with accent and aplomb, walked the fine line between satire and performance art, culminating in a knowing rendition of “Everything’s Coming Up Roses.”

Laura Benanti as Melania. Screenshot courtesy of @colbertlateshow and @laurabenanti on Instagram

Later selections—“She Loves Me,” "Recovering Ingénue," “Vanilla Ice Cream,” and encores including “Edelweiss” and “The Impossible Dream”—felt less like finales than benedictions.

Sound, Light, and the Art of Support

The evening’s sound and lighting design was exemplary—transparent, flattering, and precise. Nothing distracted; everything served. Such technical artistry often goes unnoticed precisely because it succeeds. Here, it allowed the room to breathe and the performers to trust.

92NY: A Living Institution

Founded in 1874, 92NY has long stood as one of New York’s great cultural conveners—a place where music, literature, dance, and civic life intersect. Its legacy includes not only excellence but continuity: a belief that art belongs at the center of communal life. This evening reaffirmed that mission with grace.

Laura Benanti front stage in An Evening with Laura Benanti at the 92nd Street Y, New York City, with Ann Klein, guitar, and Cat Popper, bass. Photo Credit Richard Termine

Conclusion: Art as Shared Experience

What lingered after the final applause was not merely admiration, but gratitude. Gratitude for artists who understand that performance is an act of generosity, for institutions that honor craft, and for evenings that remind us—quietly, insistently—why live performance still matters.

As one Romantic poet once suggested, music can become the atmosphere in which feeling learns to breathe. On this night, it did exactly that.

Laura Benanti. Courtesy Laurabenanti.com Musicians- Todd Almond – music director/piano - Ann Klein – guitar - Cat Popper – bass - Rich Mercurio – drums - Joan Kanem – director

An Evening With Laura Benanti at 92NY: A Cabaret of Wit, Memory, and Musical Grace

Organizations & Contact Information

92nd Street Y (92NY) 1395 Lexington Avenue, New York, NY 10128 https://www.92ny.org Tickets: https://www.92ny.org/events

Laura Benanti https://www.laurabenanti.com

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