Perry So with the VSO

Conductor Perry So made a welcomed return to Vancouver this weekend, conducting the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. I was moved by So’s music-making at his first Vancouver appearance, when he substituted for the scheduled conductor. He was a sensitive partner to Louie Lortie in Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, and gave an incandescent reading of Sibelius’ Symphony No. 1 in E minor. This time around, the programme chosen probably had less popular appeal, which unfortunately accounted for the many empty seats in the Orpheum Theatre last evening.

The first piece on the programme last night was Jocelyn Morlock’s Earthfall. Morlock is the orchestra’s Composer in Residence, and many of her compositions have been performed often by the orchestra. Earthfall is a brilliantly colourful and evocative work - one that I hope will be repeated often. In her talk before the performance, the composer shared her experience playing in a gamelan ensemble, which influenced her composition of the present work. Indeed, the gentle, rhythmically pulsating beginning of the work did indeed remind me of that beautiful instrument from Bali. The opening of the work is almost minimalistic in style, with changes taking place slowly over time and with slowly building tension. The texture and tension build to a climax, after which came a quieter section (the tension remains though), with violins playing in the high register, almost to provide colours, set against the woodwinds and brass. There was a beautiful theme for the second and then first violins, and the music came to a tranquil ending with the lower registers of the violins set against the fluttering sounds of the winds.

It is often difficult to judge a performance based upon a first hearing of an unfamiliar work, but I believe So and the orchestra captured the essence, the changing moods, as well as the colourful nature of the work. Yesterday’s performance confirmed my impression of So as having a great command of the orchestral resources. The orchestra responded well under his direction, and all its “departments” outdid themselves with their outstanding playing in this technically demanding and musically challenging work.

Violinist Alexandra Soumm made her debut with the orchestra in the same concert with Edouard Lalo’s colourful and virtuosic Symphonie espagnole, Op. 21. I was as impressed with So as a gallant accompanist as I was with Soumm’s tempestuous playing.

I loved the weighty string tone So evoked at the beginning of the 1^st movement (Allegro non troppo). For the first time, the strings were well balanced against the brass instruments of the orchestra. Soumm has a rich, luxuriant and vibrant sound that could cut through the orchestral texture, and she certainly rose to the challenge of the colourful and demanding string writing with aplomb.

Similarly, I was taken with the quality of the string tone at the quiet beginning of the 2^nd movement. In this movement (Scherzando: Allegro molto) I appreciated the soloist more for the virtuosity of her playing than for capturing the Spanish flavour and rhythm of the music. Her playing in this movement was somewhat metronomic and did not “move” enough rhythmically.

The orchestra began the 3^rd movement with great energy, and again with a sense of weight in the string tone. Soloist, conductor and orchestra captured the inflections of the Spanish rhythm, and the timing between soloist and conductor was perfect. Here, Soumm also highlighted the richness of her tone, especially in the lower register of the instrument, and she also highlighted the more rhetorical nature of the music.

I appreciated the spaciousness of the opening of the 4^th movement. In fact, I think I heard some of the best brass playing by this orchestra in a long time. Here, our soloist showed her lyrical side, playing with a wonderful intimacy. The few brief orchestral outbursts were also wonderfully played.

I would have wished for a little more lightness in the joyful 5^th movement of the work. The playing was colourful and exciting here, and the orchestra, under So, highlighted all the rhythm and colours inherent in the music.

Schumann’s Symphony No. 4 in D minor, Op. 120 is, I believe, a challenge for conductor, orchestra, and audience. A great performance of this work requires virtuosic playing from every member of the orchestra. Last year, I heard a never-to-be-forgotten performance of this same work by the Chicago Symphony under Ricardo Muti, a performance whose sound I have been carrying in my head.

I believe So’s interpretation of this difficult work is an indication of a young musician still figuring things out. Yes, he is enormously talented and musical, but I believe he is now thinking through his interpretations.

But, better this than taking the easy way out for any musician.

I thought that the slow introduction of the 1^st movement (Ziemlich langsam) called for far more tension than the musicians delivered. The descending scale at mm. 18 to 21 should be played with far more intensity and greater weight in the sound. As well, I missed a real sense of build-up in the few brief measures (mm. 22 to 28) to the 1^st theme (Lebhaft) at m.29. At m. 29, the articulation needed to be clearer in the strings, because there was some muddiness in the sound, and the off-beat accents at m. 35 should have been much sharper. I believe that at Letter E, there could have been more of a sense of forward propulsion.

I missed the sense of inevitability in the transition to the second movement, a Romanze (Ziemlich langsam). I wished for more of a “glow” in the sound of the oboe solo, and more of a feeling of innigkeit in the playing. Also, the triplet figures of the 1^st violins needed to be liberated a little, and perhaps more soloistic playing.

On the whole, the 3^rd and 4^th movement worked much better, and orchestra and conductor seemed to have hit their stride here. The weight of sound I missed in the 1^st movement was evident from the outset of the 3^rd movement. There was much more of a sense of urgency throughout the Scherzo (Lebhaft). The first violins played the eighth-note passage (m. 476) beautifully. I loved the wonderful transition into the 4^th movement, as well as the build-up of tension into m. 660 (Lebhaft). Throughout the movement, the balance was good, and kudos to the brilliant playing of the VSO brass. The woodwind playing at m. 815 to 826 was magnificent. So led a great transition into the final bars of the movement at m. 831 (Schneller), and the orchestra in turn gave him truly wonderful playing here. I feel that the ending would have made a greater impact had the final chord been written as a quarter note instead of a long whole note.

The audience gave the orchestra and conductor what I would call an ambivalent ovation. This was unfortunate, because it really took courage to programme this difficult symphony, a bold movement by a guest conductor still making an impression. I hope that management of the VSO would invite him back as a guest conductor on a regular basis. I would be very interested to follow the career and artistic development of this young conductor and musician.

Patrick May

February 6, 2018

Janusz Olejniczak plays Chopin

To hear Janusz Olejniczak play Chopin is like hearing the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra play Johann Strauss. There is a beguiling naturalness in the music making that makes it sound so “right” – in every inflection, every accent, every rubato taken. While it is true that great Chopin interpretation has extended far beyond the Polish border, it was obvious from Olejniczak’s playing this weekend that this music is in his blood, his body and soul.

The two concerts this weekend has been a first collaboration between Early Music Vancouver and the Vancouver Chopin Society. Part of Early Music Vancouver’s interest in this presentation lies in the fact that part of the recital was played on a beautiful 1852 Broadwood piano, lovingly restored by local piano restorer Marinus van Prattenburg. The idea behind the concert was for the audience to experience two very different sound worlds – the sound of a period instrument (Chopin died in 1849) as well as that of a modern Steinway grand. Other than the pleasure I derived from listening to this much loved music, hearing these two very different instruments had been in itself a fascinating experience.

Olejniczak began both recitals with Chopin’s Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Op. posth., first on the Broadwood, then on the Steinway, just to show the acoustical difference between these two instruments. The Broadwood has a narrower dynamic range but, under the hands of an artist who knew what he was doing with the instrument, not a narrower range of colours than the Steinway. The Steinway naturally had a much more commanding sound as well as a larger projection. With the Broadwood, I had the impression that I was eavesdropping on someone’s playing. Olejniczak created that intimate sound, or rather, created that palpable mood of intimacy, throughout the evening, and on both instruments, just a little more so on the Broadwood.

Between the two recitals, Olejniczak performed a good cross section of his more than fifty Mazurkas – Op. 17, No. 4, Op. 24, Nos. 1 and 2, Op. 30, No. 4, Op. 41, No. 2, and Op. 68, No. 2. There is a Polish word – zal – a word that represents the soul of a Pole. The basic meaning of the word is a bittersweet melancholy. But it also encompasses the feeling of suffering, sadness, of losing everything – a feeling that one sometimes feel when there is no sun and one is alone in a cold house. According to Liszt, the word can also mean “rage”, which is not only interesting but also paradoxical. Chopin’s music, even the most intimate ones, can have a lot of anger. Chopin himself admitted that most of his music is permeated with zal, and Liszt added that the word colours the whole of Chopin’s compositions.

It is also the music of exile, perhaps the most powerful source of inspiration for any artist.

Olejniczak’s performances of the Mazurkas contained all the aforementioned qualities. He employed much rubato in his playing of the Mazurkas, but always with impeccable taste, as well as a sense of - for lack of a better word - rightness.

In the two Mazurkas in A minor, Op. 17, No. 4, as well as Op. 68, No. 2, two works that contain some of the most desolate music the composer ever wrote, there was a feeling of deep sadness recollected from afar. In the Mazurka in C major, Op. 24, No. 2, Olejniczak conveyed the exoticism of both the opening Aeolian mode melody, which could be a rustic dance, or the singsong of a Polish street peddler, and the more lyrical, Lydian mode melody at mm. 21 to 36. Throughout both recitals, but especially during the Mazurkas, I had the feeling that Olejniczak was improvising, almost re-composing these works as he played.

This feeling of melancholy was carried through in Olejniczak’s choice of Waltzes he played, both on the Broadwood – the Waltz in A-flat major, Op. 69, No. 1 and Waltz in C-sharp minor, Op. 64, No. 2., the latter work being, for me, one of Chopin’s greatest works. In the difficult opening phrases of the Waltz in C-sharp minor, he had just the right amount of lilt as well as a beautiful inflection of those brief phrases. In the B section of the work, there was a gossamer lightness that was quite breathtaking. In Saturday’s performance, Olejniczak’s playing of the bass notes from m. 177 to the end, almost as a secondary voice, was particularly affecting.

In the Polonaise in A major, again played on the Broadwood on both evenings, there was a real feeling of dance in the opening measures, so often missing in performances bent on conveying the “bigness” of sound. In fact, Chopin expressly wrote only forte in the opening. I loved the way he played the opening trill at m. 41, with a palpable tension that immediately conveyed the drama of the entire section. In the tricky final measure of the Polonaise, Olejniczak added an extra bass octave before the A major chord to have more of a feeling of finality, something the composer may himself have done?

For the second recital, the artist played two of the Preludes, Op. 28 – the one in A major (No. 7) and the one in C minor (No. 20). In the C minor Prelude, Olejniczak beautifully but subtly brought out the middle register in the third iteration of the theme (m. 9).

O lejniczak’s playing of the Nocturne in C minor, Op. 48, No. 1, again perfectly embodied the seemingly contradictory emotions in the word zal. From the somber opening chords to the frightening outburst of the B section, and back to the restless return of the opening theme, the pianist played as if taking us through the composer’s stream of consciousness. As well, his performance of the Nocturne in E minor, Op. posth., gave us a glimpse of the gorgeous sound he elicited from the Steinway, and brought out the otherworldly beauty of this early work.

On both evenings, the balance of the second half comprised of three large-scale works. I had not been so moved by the Scherzo in B-flat minor, Op. 31, for a long time, as I was this weekend. In his last Vancouver recital, Murray Perahia played a note-perfect but, for me, emotionally ambivalent performance. It was nothing like the range of emotions and colours Olejniczak took us through in his playing. Every note in the opening triplets could be clearly heard, yet he managed to bring forth Chopin’s sotto voce marking, as well as conveying a sense of urgency with these few opening notes. And there was an ardent quality in his playing of the beautiful con anima section at m. 65.

The artist brought an uncanny freshness I did not think possible with the oft-played Ballade in G minor, Op. 23. As with all great Chopinists, there was a sense of totality, of organic unity, in Olejniczak’s approach towards the Ballade. The danger with a powerful modern piano is the possibility of an ugly or percussive sound, when someone “pushes” the instrument hard. Olejniczak can be a powerful player when he chose to be, but even at the most dramatic moment of this already dramatic work, the pianist’s tone was never forced – colossal, yes, but always round and musical. In the treacherous coda, his playing was utterly confident, and never betrayed even for a moment the possibility of failure. There was also an incredible lightness in the playing that intensified the excitement and tension of the music.

The Polonaise in A-flat major, Op. 53, perhaps the unofficial national anthem of Poland, his playing was simply thrilling. The dignity, pride, power, beauty, and rhythmic acuity of his playing reminded me only of Arthur Rubinstein, and I can think of no higher compliment. In the beginning of the E major section, there was a roar in the sound of the sforzando chord – a most interesting aural sensation. In the coda, Olejniczak built the music to such a pitch of excitement that the final chords at m. 179 became a catharsis.

Incredibly, this was the first appearance in Vancouver of this great artist, a charming and soft-spoken man who gave the impression, when he played, that he was merely playing for a few friends. Earlier this season, the Vancouver Chopin Society presented Seong-Jin Cho, a supremely talented young artist at the outset of his career. Now, we have a very different kind of artist, at the full maturity of his musical development. With Marc-Andre Hamelin, Rafal Blechacz, Andras Schiff, and Alexander Gavrylyuk still to play in the coming months, Vancouver audiences will have much wonderful music-making to look forward to.

February 5, 2018 

Brief Impressions - L'Elisir d'Amore

This past Saturday, Vancouver Opera succeeded in making Gaetano Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore a delight, both vocally and visually, from beginning to end, a delicious dessert of a production.

Updated to Anytown, Canada – the production has been done in the United States, in which case it would have been Anytown, U.S.A. – at a time shortly before World War I, it makes the part about soldiers being drafted fit in with the plot. The set is simple but beautiful, and the entire performance was magically lit by lighting designer Harry Frehner.

Canadian tenor Andrew Haji has a light but very musical voice, and his portrayal of Nemorino as the guileless simpleton certainly endeared him to the audience. He very generously passed up the opportunity to make Una furtive lagrima, the tenor aria from the opera, a showpiece for himself, but sang it as a part of the musical and dramatic whole.

Soprano Ying Fang, who has been scoring successes at opera houses around the world, possesses a truly beautiful voice and an effortless delivery. She really plunged into the role of the coquettish Adina with relish. It is obvious that we have a star in the making here.

Brett Polegato as Sergeant Belcore and Stephen Hegedus as “Doctor” Dulcamara complete the well-balanced cast with their musical as well as dramatic contributions.

I sometimes feel that Jonathan Darlington is too laid back in his conducting, and doesn’t push the singers enough. Nevertheless, he led a beautiful and sensitive reading of Donizetti’s score, and was entirely supportive of every aspect of the singing. What I missed was more of a tension in the musical fabric.

In my mind, I try to “hear” what the voices and instruments would sound like in an acoustically ideal opera house. In the dull - dead would be a better word - acoustics of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, no amount of efforts by the singers or instrumentalist can be fully appreciated by the audience. This theatre should really be relegated to musicals, popular concerts, or other non-musical events.

Politicians and the moneyed people in Vancouver should remember that any society or city, past or present, is remembered by its artistic achievements. I pray that Vancouver will one day have an opera house and a concert hall (to replace the beautiful but acoustically less-than-ideal Orpheum Theatre) that would allow us to fully enjoy the music making of the many talented musicians in our midst.

Patrick May

January 29, 2018 

A New Friendship

One of the most significant events in any orchestra’s history has to be the appointment of a new music director. The Vancouver Symphony Orchestra’s music director-designate, Otto Tausk, returned to town to conduct the orchestra this past weekend. I had the privilege to hear the same concert two days in a row, and many of the things I heard this weekend suggest to me that the orchestra will be in good hands for the next chapter of its life.

The programme Maestro Tausk chose consists of three of the most beloved works of the symphonic canon – Berlioz’s Le Carnaval Romain Overture, Dvorak’s Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, and Brahms’s Symphony No 1 in C minor, Op. 68. At the same time, the very familiarity of these iconic works makes it a challenge for both conductor and musicians alike in bringing a fresh perspective to the music.

The orchestra sounded great throughout Le Carnaval Romain. The tricky ascending and descending scales in the opening with the strings and then the woodwinds sounded confident and energetic, and the ensemble was perfect. English Horn soloist Beth Orson played the theme at m. 20 ravishingly, with beautiful phrasing, a lovely sound, and a wonderful shading of colours. Perhaps inspired by Orson’s playing, the violas sounded equally lovely when they picked up the theme at m. 37, giving a richness of sound and a dark colour unique to that sometimes maligned instrument. The subito pianissimo entry by the first violins at m.61 was beautifully placed. And I loved the bright open sound the orchestra created at the final A major chord. All in all, it was a very good reading of this great orchestral showpiece. It was apparent that Tausk has an acute sense of balancing the horizontal and the vertical aspects of the music.

Dvorak was apparently inspired to write this B minor cello concerto after hearing his friend and American colleague Victor Herbert’s cello concerti. The result was one of Dvorak’s most inspired and masterful works, and a touchstone of the cello repertoire. In this concerto, Dvorak takes the musicians and the listeners through a gamut of emotions, from the very dramatic to the most intimate. I believe that a successful performance of this challenging piece lies not only in securing the services of a world-class cellist, which the orchestra did, but in the conductor’s awareness of the symphonic nature of the work.

I had only known Tanja Tetzlaff as a chamber musician, and I was very happy to have heard her as a concerto soloist, for she has a rich, bold sound that really projects. There were many things about the performance that I liked. In the first movement, Tausk and Tetzlaff chose an opening tempo that was faster than I hear it, thereby affording the music a sense of urgency. The ascending scale for the woodwinds at 4 measures before rehearsal number 2 was, to my ears, a little heavy-handed and metronomic. I was sorry that the gorgeous horn solo in the orchestral exposition (12 measures after rehearsal number 2) had some real intonation problem, and sounded insecure. 

Tetzlaff’s first solo entry had an arresting sound that captured my attention, and she played it with great authority. The crescendo for the short ascending phrase at 10 measures before rehearsal number 4 was particularly beautifully played. I thought that the octave leaps for the strings at rehearsal number 5 could have had a thicker, more substantial sound. The cello solo at rehearsal number 10 was particularly heartfelt, but somehow it failed to be “at one” with the oboe solo. It was not a matter of being together, but somehow the sound of the instruments failed to become part of the same orchestral texture. Perhaps it was because of the faster tempo, the orchestral entry after the ascending chromatic scale for the cello (6 measures after rehearsal number 12) lacked the majesty the music calls for, because it sounded rushed.

The emotional center for the entire concerto lies, for me, in the slow movement. I felt that Tetzlaff’s playing here did not convey the sense of yearning, and the sense of gentle sorrow, so apparent in the music. The orchestral entry at 5 measures after rehearsal number 2 lacked the feeling of lamentation, of a cry of sorrow, as well as an intensity of feelings. I also felt that the horn chorale at rehearsal number 6 missed the sense of intimacy, and lacked a kind of hushed quality in the sound. Moreover, at the quasi cadenza (13 measures after rehearsal number 6), perhaps the most intimate moment of the entire concerto, as if the composer was confiding his most private thoughts, the playing was, for me, too matter-of-fact. Yes, every musical and technical detail was observed, but I wasn’t being drawn into Dvorak’s inner world. Mind you, that could very well have been my own reaction to what was being played.

For me, the third movement turned out to be the most satisfying. It was rhythmically taut, and the tempo here sounded just right. The violas, celli and double basses created a beautiful string tone, with substance in the sound, in the pizzicato passage accompanying the cello at 15 measures before rehearsal number 8. Concertmaster Nicholas Wright had a real dialogue with Tetzlaff in their duet at 17 measures after rehearsal number 11. And the pizzicato passage before the rehearsal number 15 did have a hushed quality to it, as well as a keen sense of anticipation.

Is there anything more arresting than the opening of Brahms’s first symphony? And what an opening it is, with the relentless, almost obsessive strikes of the timpani! Tausk understands the grandiosity of this opening section of the 1^st movement. I did wish for more of a weight in the sound of the strings. As well, there should be, I felt, much more build-up of tension (not necessarily louder) in the strings at mm. 15 -18, and again at mm. 27-29. I also wished for more subtlety in the sound of the oboe solo beginning at m. 29. The Allegro section worked very well. The pacing was good, and there was a real sense of urgency in the forward motion of the music. Again, Tausk balanced the horizontal and vertical aspects of the music well. I had wished for more richness, more substance, in the string sound at mm. 232-236.

The second movement also moved in a very nice pace. I thought that there should have been more of a sense of direction, and more shaping, in the opening phrase. To my ears the ascending theme in the first violins at m. 27 should get lighter as it ascends, to be followed by a significant build-up in sound at m. 29. The woodwinds really shone in this movement with their beautiful playing, as did Nicholas Wright in his heavenly solo toward the end of the movement.

I liked very much Tausk’s tempo choice for the third movement. There was a real sense of urgency and an incredible feeling of forward motion with the flute and oboe theme at m. 47. The conductor evoked a real sense of tension in the opening of the fourth movement, especially in the very quietly played pizzicato notes at m. 6, leading into an incredible build-up toward the fortissimo chord at m. 12.

I was disappointed at that great horn entry at Letter B. In my mind, I always have this picture of the heavens opening and the sun shining through after that dark opening. On Saturday and Sunday, the sense of awe and majesty was missing here.

In the famous C major theme at m. 61, Tausk found a happy medium with Brahms’s tempo indication of Allegro non troppo, ma con brio. At the great A major fanfare at m. 407, I blamed the inadequate acoustics of the Orpheum Theatre, for there should have been far more sound from the orchestra in this crucial moment before the coda. I sat in two different parts of the hall for the Saturday and Sunday concerts, and my aural perception was the same on both days. I hope that one day the orchestra will have a hall worthy of their efforts. Tausk made a slight ritard right before the end of the movement, at m. 450, which I felt diminished the impact and impetus of the music.

I believe that Otto Tausk had already made a very good start with the orchestra, even before his official tenure as music director. Except in rare instances, it takes a long time for the relationship between conductor and orchestra to really gel. As Humphrey Bogart says at the end of Casablanca, I hope that this is “the beginning of a beautiful friendship”

Christmas Reprise - An Appreciation

The Vancouver Cantata Singers is having a banner 60^th anniversary year! After their incandescent and uplifting performance of Handel’s Messiah, they really got us into the joyous spirit of the celebration of Christ’s birth with their 15^th Christmas Reprise at downtown’s Holy Rosary Cathedral.

The choir began and ended their performance with two settings of Ava Maria, the opening one by Bruckner, and the closing one by Franz Biebl. Right from the outset, I was captivated by how these oft repeated words about the Virgin Mary filled the sacred space of the cathedral. Acoustically, I was surprised by how little echo, of “aftersound”, this cavernous space had, which made it very easy for the audience to hear the words being sung.

In terms of repertoire, it ranges from the traditional Christmas favourites (albeit with very original choral settings), like Infant Holy, Infant Lowly, Angels We Have Heard on High, It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, and O Little Town of Bethlehem, to Mouton’s Nesciens Mater, Eric Whitacre’s Lux Nova, and Ēriks Ešenvalds’ O Emmanuel.

There were many musical highlights in the afternoon. In Francis Poulenc’s Hodie Christus Natus Est, the traditional French carol Un Flambeau, and the English carol A Virgin Most Pure, there was a beguiling lightness and a sense of “bounce” in the choir’s singing. In A Virgin Most Pure, the male voices also created a beautiful sound palette, effectively supporting the purity of the choir’s female voices. In the very familiar Angels We Have Heard on High, the men provided discreet and effective background for the ladies in their drone-like “accompaniment”.

Some of the works performed provided solo opportunities for many of the choir’s talented singers – David Rosborough in Three Kings, Melanie Adams in I Wonder as I Wander, Sarah McGrath, Emily Cheung, Missy Clarkson and Tiffany Chen in When a Child is Born, Sarah McGrath in In the Bleak Midwinter, Benila Ninan in a rousing and idiomatic performance of Esta Noche Nace un Niño, Andy Booth in O Little Town of Bethlehem, and Erik Kallo in O Emmanuel. All these singers rose to their respective challenges and acquitted themselves wonderfully in their respective solo opportunities. In Esta Noche Nace un Niño, the choir’s imitation of the sounds of a Spanish guitar as well as the Flamenco rhythms were really very effective. In I Wonder as I Wander, the delicious dissonance to the words, “He surely could have had it,” was beautifully sung and perfectly coloured.

For me, one of the most striking works of the afternoon was perhaps Eric Whitacre’s Lux Nova, where the composer successfully and effectively uses sound to evoke light, especially in his writing for the sopranos. The choir sung the words, “Et canunt angeli molliter” as well as “Modo natum”, with such purity and beauty that the effect was nothing short of magical.

Half way through the concert, as daylight slowly receded, it seemed almost as if the music was hastening the arrival of dusk. As in the beginning of the concert, when the choir sang Bruckner’s Ava Maria, the singers filed to either side of the cathedral at the end of their performance, and sung Biebl’s setting of these prayerful words as a final benediction for the afternoon, readying us to face the onslaught of Christmas shoppers and the pounding Muzak of more secular Christmas music. We are thankful for this afternoon of uplifting choral music by this talented choir, led by the equally talented Paula Kremer, for giving us, in the midst of the hustle and bustle, a peace that the world cannot give.

Patrick May

4th Sunday of Advent

Christmas Eve, 2017