Adventurous, virtuosic and highly expressive celebration of 15 years of the Canellakis-Brown Duo
Cellist Nicholas Canellakis and pianist-composer Michael Stephen Brown, met in their early twenties some fifteen years ago and have been performing as the Canellakis-Brown Duo ever since, as well as maintaining their separate solo careers. They clearly have a close friendship which has also stimulated compositions and arrangements from both, a number of which receive première recordings here.
First, let’s get the album title, ‘(b)romance’ out of the way. Now celebrating male friendship is no bad thing, but the term ‘bromance’ is unfortunately problematic for me. The implication is always that such a friendship between two presumably straight men needs a label, however tongue in cheek, lest we ‘misunderstand’. And just in case we are in any doubt, it is confirmed that Canellakis has a girlfriend, whilst Brown’s website informs us that he has two Steinways with female names (really?). Now there’s clearly a play on the term here, with reference to the numerous Romances for cello and piano amongst the eclectic and expressive repertoire, and their friendship and professional partnership of 15 years is worthy of celebration. But still…
Anyway, closeness of communication and warmth of connection are immediately evident in the Saint-Saëns Romance opener, with Canellakis in particular producing a glorious cantabile sound. Brown is equally expressive in the Romantic piano solo of the Romanze from Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto, with Canellakis joining for the expressive, luxurious duet that emerges. Fauré’s Romance has a wonderful flow in the meandering, expressive cello melody, with Brown providing the necessary sense of motion from the piano. The rich, lower register opening from Canellakis is particularly striking here too. This is followed by Romance à GF, composed by Canellakis himself. He doesn’t clarify whether GF is his girlfriend, or the former composer’s initials, but regardless, it is an evocative piece, with the cello on long sustained piano notes of a rising scale emerging from the quiet mysterious piano opening. Once the melody gets going there is definitely a nod to Fauré here. Brown picks up the pace and intensity to support Canellakis’ outbursts, before it all dies away, leaving Canellakis at the heights of the fingerboard. Brown’s compositional offerings here include 35 Chords for Nick (a 35th birthday present). The score (reproduced in the notes) indicates that the tempo, character and dynamics of the chords is up to the performer, and should be different every time – whilst setting down a recording obviously limits us to one version. But Canellakis’ mixture of spread chords, multiple stoppings, pizzicato and harmonics is engaging, and he again puts that richness of tone to great effect. There is also a Prelude and Dance from Brown, originally written as a solo cello piece for Canellakis, but with Brown adding the piano part later. The Prelude is an expressive, questioning conversation, in which the cello part’s repeated notes in particular get more insistent. The Dance that follows is wild and relentless, with most of the drive coming from the cello, with the piano adding complexity to the rhythms, before they swirl towards its frenzied conclusion.
The longest piece here is Sibelius’ dark Malinconia, and at just over 11 minutes in a programme of largely miniatures, it feels epic in proportions. Full of anguish, written in response to the death of the composer’s infant daughter, from the dark mysterious cello opening rising in anguish to the piano cascades, and then the folk-like cello lament over the piano’s rhythmic pulse, this certainly packs an emotional punch. As the intensity rises, Brown’s crashing piano is matched by Canellakis’ heart-wrenching full sound, followed by a quietly raging conclusion, making for a highly moving performance of this astonishing piece. Ginastera’s Pampeana No. 2follows this with the bell-like piano and extended dramatic cello flourish leading into a swirling dance and long passages of extreme expressive outbursts, then just when you think it’s almost over, there is a wild dance to finish, with both Canellakis & Brown showing their virtuosic prowess.
Elsewhere, Canellakis makes the melody of Rachmaninov’s Lied sing alongside the relatively simple piano accompaniment, whilst Copland’s Poème, a contrastingly reflective piece, is given a peaceful, almost sensual reading. Debussy’s song Beau soir, here transcribed by Canellakis, is limpid and warm, with a beautifully controlled high ending from Canellakis. And Lukas Foss’ (1922-2009) Capriccio is full of American folksy melodies, galloping pace and train-like rhythmic energy, once again allowing both players to demonstrate their virtuosity.
They end the disc playfully, first with 3 Preludes by Gershwin, arranged by Canellakis. The first is great fun, and the third is a joyful romp, whilst the central prelude is sultry, with a bluesy (if a little ‘clean’ here) second half. But they finish with a wild, virtuosic and crazy dance, Don Ellis’ (1934-1978) Bulgarian Bulge, originally for big band, in another Canellakis arrangement. Its 33/16 metre is fiendishly infectious, and Canellakis and Brown swirl and spin with sparkling energy to bring their programme to a glorious close. All in all, a great programme, performed with style, virtuosic command and expression – just a shame about that title!
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