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RECITAL REVIEW
June 7, 2004
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By Elinor Armer
Once in a while a musical ensemble comes along which makes one ask, "Where have you been all my life?" Such was the case with cellist Burke Schuchmann and pianist Lois Brandwynne, a newly formed duo which arrived onto the scene Tuesday at the Berkeley City Club. Each player is a vintage staple in the Bay Area, respected and reliable; together they surpassed the sum of their parts, in an evening of challenging, dramatic musical fare.
Perhaps to remind us of their individual credentials, each player first
offered solos. Schuchmann's account of Bach's D Minor Suite for
unaccompanied cello was darkly absorbing. Often these suites threaten to
pall in their sameness of key and style; Schuchmann's approach, however, was to differentiate between movements by means of varied tone color, mood, phrasing, and keenly articulated dance rhythms. He holds the piece in his being as a single trajectory, allowing him to savor and shape each gesture
in the moment with confidence and contextual logic. The Sarabande was
particularly striking in its brooding lyricism, and the two Menuets were not
the usual plain-featured twins, but attractive, independent siblings.
Lois Brandwynne is known for a similarly assured and introspective way with Schubert, whose very simplicity can prove as daunting to pianists as his
storminess. She rendered Impromptu Number 3 (G Flat), Opus 90, with
particular intimacy, tracing its ingenuous melody over a softly murmuring
accompaniment. Number 4 from the same set began and ended with bright
clarity, contrasted by an eloquently anguished trio section.
Two highly individual thoroughbreds. How would they get on? Schuchmann and Brandwynne moved into Schumann's Fantasy Pieces, Opus 73, as suavely and happily as a long-wed dance team. They had taken markings to heart like seasoned actors, throwing themselves into each movement with commitment. The first ('tender and with feeling') revealed tandem songful natures calling and responding, the second ('lively and light') remarkably graceful dovetailing among contrapuntal intricacies; the third ('rash and with fire') their perfectly matched musical temperaments. Between the tender ardors of Schumann and the virility of the Brahms to come, one could fairly imagine Clara's alleged dilemma. The Brahms Sonata in F, Opus 99, however, was the revelation of the evening. The sheer equalness of Schuchmann and Brandwynne's musical intelligence and maturity resulted in a daring, idiosyncratic, completely convincing folie a deux. In their hands the first movement unfolded as from one mind. Schuchmann's syntactical intonation and Brandwynne's nuanced harmonic progressions can only come from parallel tonal intelligence of a high order, demonstrated fully in the Adagio movement. A thrilling mutual madness took hold in the third movement, the cello tone sometimes frankly gutteral and growling in its attack, the piano as rashly intense and ferocious. Most uncanny was the rhythmic ensemble, which drew maximum forward power from Brahms' characteristic syncopations, impetuous upbeats, and hemiolas. Finally, how soothing the sweet afterplay of the last movement. In the Brahms it was the duo which treated each movement individually, supporting the whole so integrally that listeners were riveted throughout. Afterward the audience rose to its feet for a long, appreciative ovation. As Shakespeare almost said, Let us 'not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment': Check out this duo. If you like them separately, you'll love them together.
(Elinor Armer is a composer. She teaches at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.)
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Lois Brandwynne