MUSIC REVIEW : Sylvan and Breitman Team in ‘Die Schone Mullerin’

With loving care, genuine subtlety and a narrow dynamic scheme, Sanford Sylvan and David Breitman gave a pristine but rewarding performance of Schubert’s “Die Schone Mullerin” Friday night in the Doheny Mansion on the downtown campus of Mount St. Mary’s College.

It was a satisfying reading because the two American musicians--partners now for 14 years--did not get in Schubert’s way.

They clearly understand the thrust of these 20 songs--their poetic traversal of disparate moods from naivete to triumph, disillusion and resignation--and possess the artistic resources to project them to an audience without any overstimulation of the materials. This they did, in an engrossing, fluent and stylish way.

Sylvan’s reputation as a brainy singer may be well-earned, but it describes only one facet of his artistic equipage.

Within a certain decibel range, the baritone commands much variety of dynamics and color; characteristically, as his followers have reported, he uses them sparingly. When he reaches a high point, his resort to full voice is all the more effective, and touching.

There was little of the overt or overstated in this long-lined performance, though the total spoke movingly to the listener. Song followed song with an inevitability--an emotional arc--not all lieder singers can achieve. It is simply a matter of projecting one’s thoughts to the receiver. But, of course, that is not so simple. Art never is.

What is notable in Sylvan’s accomplishment is that he does not sing like an intellectual; he sings like a serious, vocally well-endowed yet self-effacing artist. He seems to tailor his sound and characterization--every song demands a characterization--to the particular moment, while acknowledging its larger context. This he did--in the welcoming confines of the Pompeiian Room before a rapt audience brought together by the Da Camera Society--consistently, and with nuance, dramatic point and generosity of spirit.

Playing on an 1886 Steinway instrument--he has flirted with the fortepiano in this work--Breitman proved the perfect partner in a pianistic assignment fraught with traps. Without calling attention to his own, superlative contributions, he complemented the emotional range, musical detailing and unique vision of the singer.

On the same, 106-year-old relic--its stolidness did not amuse all the listeners present--Breitman began the evening with a selfless, measured performance of Schubert’s Three Piano Pieces, D. 946.