San Francisco Classical Voice

Actors may remind you, vocal expressivity is just one facet to building a character. And Müller-Schott, not surprisingly, demonstrated a keen sensitivity to other issues of musical characterization. This was most obvious with the Schumann, who, after all, divided his musical personality between two alter egos, fiery Florestan and fanciful Eusebius. But rarely have I heard the quicksilver shifts of the fifth movement of the Five Pieces in Folk Style, flipping between ardent impetuousity and dreamy lyricism, captured as pointedly as in Müller-Schott'shands.

Even more important was his varied treatment of repeated musical material. This becomes particularly crucial when presented with such obsessive structures as the first of the Five Pieces. I must admit that, until now, I have had little affection for this movement; with its cryptic heading, “Vanitas vanitatum,” this gawky, over-repetitive, melodically uninspired piece always sounded like strong evidence for Schumann's incipient madness. What a revelation, then, was Müller-Schott's solution: of the numerous reiterations of the opening eight-bar theme, no two were treated in quite the same manner. The final effect? Although the theme may appear in various guises — jaunty, beseeching, triumphant, or enraged — it must return inexorably to the same three-note conclusion. What a canny representation: for all has indeed become vanity.

This questing approach, unsatisfied with mere repetition, also breathed new life into Schubert's familiar Sonata for Arpeggione in A minor (D 821), the opening piece of the second half. Relying on shifts in tempo, contrasting articulation, and variable phrasing, Müller-Schott highlighted the Sonata's somewhat bewildering changes of mood. If his delight over localized details may occasionally have sacrificed projecting any larger formal unity, his restlessly inventive realization certainly added interest to Schubert's typically loose-limbed structure.

How disappointing, then, was the first work of the afternoon, Beethoven's Fifth Cello Sonata in D major, op 102 no 2. While Müller-Schott's characterful manner emphasized the wildly contrasting motives of the first movement (Allegro con brio), there was a continual urge to forge onward — something akin to “damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead” — that quickly infected all three movements. The rustic good humor of the third movement Allegro fugato (in which the subject keeps missing the downbeat, plunking its foot down a beat late) was completely swept aside in favor of a more homogenized interpretation. And surely the ravishing Adagio second movement would have benefited from a more conscientious use of rubato and Luftpausen: sadly, points of arrival were glossed over, arched melodic lines were left shapeless. When the opportunities for expressivity are so consistently ignored, even the most beautiful performance soon dwindles into mere accuracy.

Pianist Robert Kulek, it must be said, provided a fine accompaniment throughout. If I have avoided mentioning him until now, this reflects the self-effacing quality of most of his performance. There were occasional moments that reminded the audience of the presence of a second musician — the fugato interactions of Beethoven's finale, the melancholy opening solo in the Schubert (how I appreciated his lovely, unhurried treatment of the theme here). Nevertheless, Kulek remained content in matching Müller-Schott's interpretation. Although there is nothing inherently wrong in pursuing this unanimity of purpose, I did miss the added sense of dialog and drama that arises from the interaction of two equally individual musicians.