Concluding their ten-date European tour on home turf, siblings Sheku and Isata Kanneh-Mason were welcomed by an enthusiastic sell-out audience at the Barbican. It’s certainly a testament to their enduring popularity that they can sell out large venues with what, for many, will be unfamiliar chamber repertoire. The audience were not to be disappointed.
Taking a moment to adjust to the hall’s acoustic, they soon settled into their stride in Mendelssohn’s Cello Sonata no. 1 in B flat major. It is a lightly joyful work, and Sheku and Isata played with nimble delicacy. The central movement in particular, with its wispy Scherzo-like outer section and lyrical core, had poise and a spring in its step, as did the rippling finale. They followed with Beethoven’s D major sonata, composed when his hearing had almost entirely gone. There was plenty of percussive drama here, with thematic material thrown to and fro between the players.
Despite the weightier textures, the Kanneh-Masons now had the Barbican balance nailed, with the dense piano writing never allowed to drown Sheku’s lyricism. But it was in the Adagio (marked con molto sentiment d’affetto) that they achieved their most expressive playing of the evening thus far. From the funereal opening, with Isata’s low soft chords and Sheku’s long sustained line, right through to the final falling harmonies and low cello notes to end, they showed remarkable sensitivity in this typically profound late Beethovenian statement. The fugal finale which followed had edge, almost an angry response to that Adagio, as the two instruments headed off on their own paths, yet always in tight communication and perfect balance, before being brought together for a final emphatic conclusion.
Fauré’s two Cello Sonatas were composed in his final decade and, like Beethoven, when he was battling with deafness. Yet there is an almost constant flow of expressive energy throughout the First Sonata, Sheku and Isata relishing the surging virtuosic flow of the opening movement. As in his Nocturnes, Fauré layers a melodic line on top (or in the middle) of complex textures, often requiring crossed hands from the pianist to negotiate the different voices. Sheku and Isata passed the melodic fragments back and forth, with some deft pedalling from Isata in the central movement in particular to avoid muddying the line among the rich textures. Fauré’s meanderings teeter on losing their way, but here the siblings used constant, smooth exchange of material to maintain momentum. They also managed the dynamic balance in the virtuosic finale, with Sheku building in intensity as Isata’s textures thickened.
Virtuosic expression continued with the Chopin Cello Sonata in G minor, the mammoth opening movement giving both players a chance to really flex their technical muscles. Chopin understandably gives the pianist flamboyant passages, but the cello is by no means neglected in terms of challenge and both players showed their command here admirably. But as in the Beethoven, it was the sad, lyrical Largo that sat at the heart of this performance, Sheku and Isata at their expressive best, each seamlessly taking the baton of sustained melody from the other. The virtuosic finale swept all this away, and gave the Kanneh-Masons plenty of fireworks to set off as the music danced towards the racing coda. The audience certainly wanted more, but rather than throwing off a bonbon to finish, they instead sustained the mood, repeating that deeply expressive Largo, its heartfelt ending feeling even more time-halting second time around.
This was an impressive evening from two rapidly maturing performers, not afraid to bring chamber music to audiences more familiar with more standard virtuosic concerto displays.
