Lola Astanova @ CarnegieHall -- A Superstar Is Born

 

Lola Astanova @ Carnegie Hall

(photo courtesy Matt Peyton, Getty Images)

Lola Astanova’s Carnegie Hall performance Thursday was a brilliant evening – though for awhile the seats around me seemed a midget shy of a scene in a Fellini flick. Fortunately, the music was so beautiful and so transporting that all else was subsumed while this talented and unforgettable young woman played.

The evening, a benefit for the American Cancer Society, kicked off with some speechifying. Donald Trump, who was awarded a lifetime appreciation award from the ACS, very generously donated $100,000 to get the evening rolling. (I’m still not voting for him.) Dame Julie Andrews was also honored for her work on behalf of the charity.

 Lola Astanova with 2 fans.

(photo courtesy Matt Peyton, Getty Images)

Then the Stonewall Chorale and Melodia Women’s Choir strolled down the aisles, filling the sold-out 3,000-seat hall with voices in song. They sang another number onstage, to the melody of Midnight in Moscow.

Miss Astanova is everything one expects from the press coverage and her online presence, and more. The planet is a better place due to her musical performances. Her music and her stage presence are beauty in its highest realization. Bravi, Lola!

Of course, I’m a ukulele playing jazz folk gangster, musically speaking. Dixieland is my genre. So my perspective is skewed toward enjoyment. And what a pleasure the music of Astanova is.

Meanwhile, my viewpoint as a playwright (unsung and unknown or not) and novelist allowed me to appreciate the drama as it unfolded around me. First, there was the pleasure of being seated with the great Byron Janis and his ever-beautiful wife Maria Cooper Janis. Dame Julie acknowledged Byron’s presence in her opening remarks. Stefan Janis, Byron’s son from a previous marriage, is someone with whom I go back more than a couple of decades, though of late our connection is of the email variety. Stefan is a writer and translator. (I was always impressed when visiting Stefan at home. He had a framed drawing of himself as a baby – by Picasso!)

Of course, I said hello and after the concert our resident photographer and cartographer Mike Anton got some photos documenting the meeting of The Unknown Playwright and classical piano legend Byron Janis. I also got a quote for posterity, as I walked with him and his wife toward the backstage reception, where he went to offer his congratulations.

The great Byron Janis enthusiastically pronounced Lola Astanova  “a very talented performer.”

That was one viewpoint, a very important one, given the setting.

Byron Janis and The Unknown Playwright

(photo credit Mike Anton, AntonMiles.com)

Maria Cooper Janis, Byron Janis, and T.U.P.

Quite obviously an organized claque was seated in this section, too; some in my row and some in the row in front of me. It took me awhile to figure out what was going on. These biddies would not applaud; and they all left at intermission, leaving a huge “hole” in the audience. Honestly, once I figured out what was going on, it seemed so quaint, so utterly Carnegie Hall. Someone cared enough to buy a block of prime seats and arrange an honest-to-Pete claque. It’s great that someone with money has such passion for music. And of course it all benefited the American Cancer Society.

 None of the drama in the seats mattered to Astanova, of course. She was wowing the crowd from the main floor to the uppermost reaches of the hall. She was triumphant – such artistry, such brilliance.  

It was like something out of one of those black and white classical music biopics. You know, where people are all dressed up for classical musical events.

Which brings me to another point. Are artists, billionaires and bankers the only people who dress up anymore? There were adults wearing blue jeans on the main floor of Carnegie Hall. I saw one guy wearing a sweat suit. My daughter was embarrassed to come with me, afraid none of her clothing was suitable. And it’s been so long since I was invited to an A-list affair, I accepted her demure.

To be fair, most folks on the main floor at least made what I would call a tie-and-jacket effort, without implying gender specificity. But sadly, it seems anything goes sartorially anymore. Maybe the world was really only ever stylish in black and white movies.   

Would be hipsters aside, there was an entire contingent that looked like a casting call for a movie adaptation of a Dostoyevsky novel. (Definitely not from Tolstoy; I’m reading War and Peace right now on my Kindle and am well aware of the difference.) Astanova was raised in a Russian household in the Uzbekistan capital of Tashkent; and these were the New York Lola-nauts, no doubt, come to orbit their brilliant new supernova.

From a writer’s standpoint, the evening was life as caviar – rich, salty, tasty.

From a banjo-thumping band leader’s perspective, it was beyond any high point in any musical experience of my life. I was there when a superstar was born.

Plus, she played Chopin – a nocturne, an etude, and Sonata No. Op. 35 – with the famous 11 note funeral march phrase we Dixieland players like to insert at the end of St. James Infirmary. I’ve always loved Chopin’s music. Many years ago, on a visit to Deya, Majorca to see the poet Robert Graves, I made my pilgrimage to the monastery where Chopin stayed when he and George Sand lived on the island. Anyway, Chopin was the first set (after her opening number, which was not listed in the program -- a startling and passionate rendition of The Star Spangled Banner).  

Musicianship and style -- Miss Astanova changed gowns for her second set
(photo courtesy Matt Peyton, Getty Images)

Three pieces by Rachmaninoff led off the second set; followed by two etudes by  Scriabin. The music was so beautiful. The young genius finished with 2 more pieces by Chopin that were rapturous in their execution. 

Astanova received a standing ovation and 3 curtain calls. What a magnificent performance by a performer whose stunning beauty is surpassed only by her talent on the 88s.
Long may Lola share her music with us, her devoted listeners!

Make no mistake, readers, we are now in the Age of Astanova!

MORE PHOTOS OF THE UNKNOWN PLAYWRIGHT:

Despite being exiled to Appalachia by the financial policies of the ultra rich elite, The Unknown Playwright enjoys his visits to Manhattan, as these photos by Mike Anton demonstrate.

T.U.P. outside Carnegie Hall

If you've read this far, please consider reading one of Uke Jackson's books!