Jacob Liao, Contributing Photographer

I sat in Woolsey Hall on Sept. 30 awaiting the pianist soloist’s entrance to the stage to begin the Yale Symphony Orchestra’s opening concert. As a first year who chose Yale because of its esteemed classical music scene, I was expecting a solid, well-polished performance on par with those of professional orchestras. At the same time, as a friend of several YSO members and piano soloist Alex Nam ’25 himself, I was excited about how all their long hours of preparation and meticulous sectional work would come to fruition.

The night exceeded any of my expectations. 

YSO, led by maestro William Boughton, programmed two pieces with an intermission in between the works for that night’s concert: Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 featuring Nam and Richard Strauss’s “Also sprach Zarathusa.” 

Two days before the performance, I was in the same hall listening to another rendition of Tchaikovsky with the New Haven Symphony Orchestra and world-renowned pianist Joyce Yang. With Yang’s powerful interpretation still present in my mind, I wondered whether Nam and the symphony orchestra would live up to those standards. 

After bowing, Nam nodded to the conductor. Maestro Boughton lifted his baton, and Tchaikovsky’s iconic horn motif filled the hall.

Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in B flat minor was written in 1875. Written in three contrasting movements, this concerto was first criticized by pianists, who loathed its difficulty and its progressive elements, such as stating the first theme in D flat major, the relative major signature of the key of the piece — which seems silly in retrospect today given some works written after the Tchaikovsky. 

However, after receiving a premiere in the United States, the piece received praise for the way it moved audiences. Ever since, Tchaikovsky’s “Piano Concerto No. 1” has been notorious for its difficulty and known for its popularity. As someone who has been training in classical piano for 13 years, I refuse to attempt it. 

I was immediately drawn in by Nam’s opening chords in the first movement, “Allegro non troppo e molto maestoso — Allegro con spirito.” Nam’s tone was firm but never harsh, providing a cushion for the symphony orchestra to sing the melody of the piece. Their lush lyricism warmed my heart, and as a friend of Alex who has discussed the difficulties in achieving the right sense of phrasing with these chords, I smiled. 

The drama and beauty the performers evoked made me lose sight of my role as a reviewer. A special moment came during an iteration of the second theme of the first movement, where a flute soloist’s melody soared above Nam’s supportive accompaniment figures. The collaboration between Nam and YSO was electrifying. I pictured myself as a bystander in their musical dialogue, lost amid their dramatic interactions. When Tchaikovsky asked for the soloist to battle with the orchestra, I heard extreme conviction and stubbornness from both parties. When Tchaikovsky wrote unison lines, I observed that all sounds blended into an exuberant melting pot.

The second movement, “Andantino semplice – Prestissimo – Tempo I,” began with quiet pizzicatos from the string instruments followed by a carol-like melody. YSO and Nam passed the melody around, creating a moving, sonorous dialogue. I couldn’t help but be impressed by Nam’s masterful execution of articulation in the “Prestissimo” section, creating a cheerful ballet. Yet, when YSO and Nam returned to the carol-like melody, they took my breath away: they changed characters back to the serene carollers they were — almost like the ballet section did not happen at all. 

Nam and YSO continued almost attacca to the third movement. “Allegro con fuoco – Molto meno mosso – Allegro vivo,” and they immediately captured the movement’s angst. At the same time, Nam and YSO preserved the rhythmic integrity of the movement that made it exciting. They continued to demonstrate their strong collaborative skills, emphasizing contrapuntal elements in the music that added color and dimension to the piece. Both parties successfully built up to the finale of the movement: a climax where after hundreds of measures of fighting, the orchestra and soloist played a final melody together.

Their performance, deservedly, received a standing ovation. Nam’s collaboration with YSO was praised by musicians and non-musicians alike. 

“The orchestra had a good blend and supported the soloist very well. Great listening, but also powerful when it needed to be,” Jeth Fogg ’27, a violist in Davenport Pops Orchestra, said. 

The orchestra’s goal of having the concert be a vehicle to let classical music be more accessible seemed to be accomplished as well.

Another attendee, Keely Balfour ’27, mentioned tearing up during the second movement. 

“I thought it was going to be laid back and mellow, but there were parts where it ramped up,” Balfour said. 

During the intermission, I quickly did some research on Strauss’s “Also sprach Zarathustra,” YSO’s second selection. It was a piece I was not familiar with. 

Composed in 1896, Strauss’s composition “Also sprach Zarathustra” was written based on Nietzche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra.” It consists of nine movements, each modeling a different chapter in the book.

According to the classical music magazine Grammophone, the work is an exploration of the relationship between humanity and the universe, with Strauss utilizing different harmonies (B major for humanity and C major for the universe) to depict these two entities. I was taken aback by how deep the music was going to be. How would the ignition and virtuosity of Tchaikovsky, which some criticize as “superficial,” work with the intellectual and philosophical music that characterizes Strauss? 

When YSO played their first note, a disturbing and haunting rumbling was produced by the lower strings, organ and lower woodwinds. I got goosebumps, as I braced for the beginning of an emotional rollercoaster. YSO’s performance was filled with memorable moments. I felt overwhelmed — in a good way — like I was hit by powerful rays of sunshine when the orchestra filled up the entire concert hall in the “Sonnenaufgang” movement. I danced in my seat during concertmaster Miriam Viazmenski’s ’25 characteristic and confident reading of the violin solo in “Das Tanzlied,” while I held my breath during the haunting last movement that begins with 12 strikes of midnight. 

Interestingly, Strauss’s intention for this work was to never resolve the dissonance between humanity and the universe, something I understood as the orchestra kept the tension in the ending when the upper strings and winds play a B major chord and the lower strings pluck a low C.

As a reviewer, I can of course nitpick specific moments of uncertainty, incohesiveness or unclarity in the performance, but my philosophy as a musician is to always comprehend what I felt during a concert. The orchestra concert was far from perfect, but it moved me far away from Woolse — far away from Yale — and into the sonic universes they created. 

Vien Le ’27, a cellist in YSO, said that YSO members were happy with their performance.

“The wall of sound we created, it just resonated through the hall … It just brought about this feeling that was so grand, and it’s just kind of an indescribable feeling,” Le said. 

An indescribable, grand feeling — I couldn’t agree more with this description of the concert.