May 8, 2002

David Randolph Creates Music Magic
by Albert H. Cohen

About 20 years ago, I reviewed my first "Messiah" in a performance of the complete oratorio. It took place in Carnegie Hall, with the Masterwork Chorus (based in Morristown) led by David Randolph.

In my review (for the News Tribune, now part of our sister paper, the Home News Tribune), I marveled at how Randolph had achieved a gorgeous diminuendo by the sopranos on a rising note in the choral segment, "All we like sheep."

Granted, it was a minor point; likely unnoticed by most listeners. But it represented a level of involvement and comprehension I soon came to hear was this great conductor's way.

"When I saw the review, I held it up to my chorus and said, 'See, all that work isn't in vain. People hear what we do,'" Randolph told me he told his singers.

Well, here's a report on another marvelous achievement, which I also hope he holds up to the great St. Cecilia Chorus and uses the same words.

The performance took place on April 27, and in New York's hallowed Carnegie Hall. The program began with "The Bells," by Rachmaninoff, and then ended with Orff's "Carmina Burana." The specific magic moment to which I refer occurred in the very first measures of the 1037 Orff classic.

Randolph had his male voices clip off the back edge of the phrase "O Fortuna" with a knife-edged clarify. The impact was stunning. Not only was the effect unexpected, it was so unusual. Here were 60 men singing fortissimo, then ending a syllable with such perfect precision, it was as if one person was singing.

He followed the declamatory words with another surprise, as the massed voices started singing pianissimo. The contrast was again startling, again a magnificent choral achievement.

What followed was a performance of immense power and impact. Using the very large orchestra – loaded with percussive percussion and brash, brass instruments – and letting them loose at every opportunity, this 87 year old diminutive maestro unleashed giant sounds that shook the walls. Against this sonic blast, he created contrasts with elegant choral moments and beautiful solos.

The profane oratorio gives plenty of work to the baritone and soprano soloists, here marvelously delivered by Kerry Henderson and Linda Hohenfeld, plus one treacherous tenor solo, with its tessitura set up at the very top of the voice's range.

And here again, Randolph pulled another delightful surprise. John Daniecki, who is singing of a cygnet swan being roasted in preparation for being eaten, wandered across the stage. He sat on a violinist's lap, sat at the maestro's feet, using his tails to wipe away the tears, while never missing a delightful note.

When it was over, the performance was simply a powerhouse of virtuosity, with some of it blatant and overt, much of it subtle and so very difficult to achieve. If there was anything to criticize, it was that orchestral precision was much poorer than that wonderful 120-voice choir. Bravo, maestro and singers all.

Those who have been reading this column over its 14-year span will find that Randolph's has popped up before. He was my guru during formative years in high school and college when his weekly radio program, "Music for the Connoisseur" on WNYC, devoted an hour to a single music subject. In his gravelly voice, he illuminated so many works with a combination of scholarship and enthusiasm.

That series, with the revised title "The David Randolph Concerts," continued on public radio for 33 years after its 1946 start. He was never paid for any of these programs.

Since the "Messiah" review, I have had personal contact with my guru, and he still manages to find ways to light fires of curiosity in me.

Although I haven't discussed it here, for lack of space, our latest phone call was over "The Bells," which Randolph called, "The hardest piece I've ever had to conduct." Listening to the elegance of this performance, that may have been the only bit of hyperbole I've ever heard him utter.

It may be a bit early, but perhaps you should put Dec. 7 in your calendar, so you can hear for yourself his magical artistry. The featured work then: Mozart's Requiem. Enough said.