Gabriel Martins’ Two-Centuries Cello Recital

Cellist Gabriel Martins ((c)Geneva Lewis, courtesy of the San Francisco Symphony)

Last night in Davies Symphony Hall the San Francisco Symphony presented the second program in the third season of its Shenson Spotlight Series. The recitalist was cellist Gabriel Martins, accompanied at the piano by Victor Santiago Asunción. The program was framed by the “usual pairing” of nineteenth-century composers, Robert Schumann and Johannes Brahms. Their works “enclosed” two decidedly different selections composed during the second decade of the twentieth century. The first of these was Claude Debussy’s 1915 cello sonata, one of his last works. This was followed by Anton Webern’s Opus 11, entitled simply “Drei kleine Stücke” (three little pieces). This was composed in the previous year, 1914; and it was a bold leap into the future that contrasted sharply with Debussy’s account, which bordered on nostalgic.

From a personal point of view, I feel that I encounter performances of Webern’s music so seldom that each occasion feels like a fresh one. Opus 11 is representative of his skills as a miniaturist. The entire set of three pieces usually clocks in at around two-and-a-half minutes. Audiences tend to feel disoriented when they realize that the piece is over before they knew it, and the composer’s pointillist attention to individual tones often triggers restless coughs and squirms in the audience. (Michael Tilson Thomas was a champion of Webern’s music and was consistently frustrated by audience behavior at his San Francisco Symphony performances.) Mind you, Opus 11 is so short that no one in the audience had time to start squirming! Once the piece had concluded, there was a polite response that was at least willing to acknowledge the enigmatic qualities of the experience.

Debussy was provocative in his own way, even if he was better at “coloring within the lines.” Traditionally, the sonata is appreciated for its abstract qualities in which expressiveness emerges from the interpretation of structure, rather than narrative. On the other hand, Debussy came close to tipping his hand by giving this sonata of programmatic title, “Pierrot fâché avec la lune.” The program note by James M. Keller translated this as “Pierrot Angry at the Moon;” but I suspect that Debussy came closer to the French expression for “pissed off!”

The first movement amounts to a brief study in frustration. This is followed by a somewhat nostalgic recollection of serenading, which is then also frustrated. In the final movement, Pierrot finally gets beyond his frustrations and launches into what Debussy himself called “a song of freedom.” Martins seemed well-attuned to all of these narrative qualities, and his interplay with Asunción made for an absorbing journey with a joyous conclusion.

In that context the Brahms Opus 99 (second) cello sonata in F major came across as a sharp contrast. Nevertheless, there was no shortage of expressiveness in Martins’ account. If the music did not have explicitly narrative qualities, it still emerged as a journey through a vast landscape of dispositions in which retrospection emerges in various intriguing guises. My favorite example comes in the first movement, which takes off like a bolt of lightning with its opening Allegro vivace theme. However, when the soloist arrives at the recapitulation, he confronts the theme now disguised as a chorale!

The entire program was framed by Schumann. The opening selection was his Opus 73 Fantasiestücke set of three pieces. Martins tended to approach these with subdued dynamics, which allowed one to appreciate the subtleties in the composer’s rhetorical approaches. Those subtleties would have had more impact, however, had Asunción decided to keep his piano lid at half-stick level. More often than not, the piano overshadowed the cello; and, while Schumann himself was a pianist, I doubt that he had such dominance in mind!

Fortunately, subtlety prevailed during the encore selection, the “Träumerei” (dreams) movement from the Opus 15 Kinderszenen (scenes from childhood) collection. There are probably any number of arrangements of this solo piano selection for cello and piano. The one by Friedrich Grützmacher is probably the most familiar; but, for all I know, Martins may have prepared his own!

Taken as a whole, the recital made for a thoroughly engaging evening; and I look forward to hearing more of what Martins has to offer.