Andrew J. Allen, in his performance of T’filah by Lera Auerbach, highlights beautiful lyricism and impeccable musicianship, proving with great sophistication that the piece is as effective on saxophone as it is on violin. First composed for solo violin in 1996 and adapted for saxophone in a 2009 version, T’filah (“prayer” in Hebrew) is a poignant lament of Jewish suffering. Written as a memorial for Holocaust victims, this haunting six-minute piece honors the innocents lost to the horrors of World War II. In a world where hatred, violence, and intolerance have been exhaustively documented, capturing again their impact in music may seem redundant. Yet Auerbach, born in 1973, brings a unique fusion of Russian-Jewish heritage and American musical identity to her work. For her, T’filah seems more than a composition—it is a deeply personal plea: le’olam al-tishkah (“do not ever forget”), echoing the enduring message of Never Forget, Never Again. Composing a prayer is no small challenge; it must engage with centuries of spiritual tradition while carrying hope for the future—a task well suited to Lera Auerbach’s boundless creativity and highlighted by Allen’s performance.

The prayer follows a ternary form (ABA), opening with an expressive lamentoso motif G-A-B-flat introduced with a Moderato, molto rubato indication. This motif gradually expands, ascending by an interval of a tenth, creating a powerful buildup toward the end of the first section. The score’s molto espressivo and ad libitum markings suggest a generous degree of interpretative freedom, allowing the performer to shape the dramatic intensity according to personal expression. At first glance, the intricate rhythms appear complex, yet they primarily serve as a notational style to ensure a rubato effect. This section captures the soulful lead of a hazzan (Jewish cantor) guiding the congregation in prayer. Its mournful tone immerses us in the cultural heart of the community, evoking a deep sense of tradition and reverence. Mr. Allen’s tone appropriately is eerie and profound, with the duration of his fermatas masterfully judged to increase expressiveness.

The middle section contrasts strikingly with the rest of the piece, much like Mussorgsky’s “Samuel Goldenberg and Schmuÿle” in Pictures at an Exhibition. Given Auerbach’s profound and exceptional interpretation of that masterwork as a concert pianist, this repetitive passage may serve as a subtle homage. Marked più mosso, this section maintains its lamentoso character while incorporating a lighter, more restless quality through persistent staccato figures. Additionally, a variation of the original G–A♭–B♭ motif is enigmatically embedded within the texture. Mr. Allen delivers a seamless performance, effortlessly concealing the technical complexities behind the scenes. The section concludes with a fermata, providing a necessary pause before the final return of A.

In the concluding section, the themes from the previous sections intertwine. Their interaction is abrupt and dynamic, culminating in a soaring high A that marks the piece’s emotional peak. It is remarkable how Auerbach achieves such raw intensity using traditional notation, ensuring accessibility for both traditionalists and avant-garde musicians alike. Mr. Allen’s tone here underwent a noticeable transformation, gaining deeper expressiveness through heightened intensity and richer timbre. His performance became more dynamic, conveying a broader range of emotions.

The Prayer closes with a brief coda, a final farewell to the G-A-B-flat motif, now in Adagio. As the sound fades in the ppp, it evokes the image of a candle flickering before vanishing into silence.

Andrew J. Allen is hailed as “a master of all sizes of saxophone” and praised for his virtuosic command of the instrument. What stands out most in his interpretation of Auerbach’s T’filah is the openness and sincerity with which he pours his heart into this dark lament. He avoided sounding overly technical or heavy-handed. With exquisitely-shaped phrases and dramatic pauses, his performance has the intimate quality of a monologue, prompting deep reflection on our humanity and its worth.