SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Haydn, Borodin: Edinburgh String Quartet: Tristan Gurney, Philip Burrin (violins), Michael Beeston (viola), Mark Bailey (cello). Reardon Smith Theatre, National Museum, Cardiff 21.11.10 (GPu)

Haydn: String Quartet in G minor, Op.74, No.3
Borodin: String Quartet No.2 in D

The valuable series of Sunday morning chamber concerts, organised by CwpanAur and the National Museum of Wales, continued its 2010-11 series with a visit from the Edinburgh String Quartet, founded as long ago as 1959 and now one of Britain’s longest-lived quartets – and one of those in which would-be listeners can invest confident expectations of, at the very least, highly competent performances and intelligent interpretations and, very often, much more than just that.

The programme they chose to play in Cardiff was the proverbial concert of two halves, most obviously insofar as a Classical half was followed by a Romantic half. No doubt I give away my own prejudices (and/or my limitations) if I say that for this listener at least, it was also a concert made up of a major and minor work (I am not here referring to key signatures!). A quartet programme that couples mature Haydn with a work by another composer always, it seems to me, to be taking a risk. Haydn’s sheer mastery of ‘his’ form is such that many of his successors have some of their limitations exposed when one of their quartets is directly juxtaposed with one of his. My own feeling was that something of the kind happened on this particular occasion.

Haydn’s String Quartet in G minor, Op 74, No 3 is sometimes referred to as the ‘Rittquartet’ (the Rider Quartet) from the prancing rhythm to be heard in both first and last movements. In common with some of the other Opus 74 Quartets, there is a more demonstrative, public quality to the writing than had hitherto characterised most of Haydn’s quartets, the musical gestures are bigger, the contrasts more marked. The listener’s attention was certainly grabbed at once by the forceful precision with which the Edinburgh Quartet played the introduction, rhythmic accents clear and incisive without ever being merely metronomic; a subtle delicacy characterised the first theme, a vivacious dancing quality the second. The contrast with the second movement was thus brought out strikingly. The opening had a slow tread and the whole was characterised by gravity of both tone and emotion, by playing of great beauty. The remote key of E major gives the music, when as well played as this, a solemnity and an introspective quality which speak eloquently of Haydn’s profound understanding of human emotion. The third movement found the Edinburgh Quartet articulating Haydn’s contrapuntal structures with unforced clarity and making the most of the contrast between the sociable G major minuet and the more troubled trio in G minor. In the final movement the reading of the ‘riding’ rhythms of the opening had more than a little darkness to it, a hint of the tragic even, its phrases firmly shaped and hard driven; but the darkness dissipated as the sheer energetic exuberance of Haydn’s musical invention took charge and led us to the affirmatory conclusion, played with certainty, but quite without complacency. It was good to be reminded, by such an intelligent and sympathetic performance, just what a remarkably inventive work this is, written by a man no longer young, and so full of emotional and (implicit) moral wisdom.

It has been suggested by some writers that Haydn’s Opus 74 quartets can be numbered amongst those works in which one can sense the beginnings of musical romanticism. Whatever the truth of that judgement, one certainly couldn’t refuse the epithet ‘romantic’ to the second of Borodin’s quartets, written (in just two months) in 1881. The Edinburgh Quartet gave us a committed, sympathetic and technically assured performance. The rhapsodic opening of the first movement breathed contentment, the lithe first theme and the more directly vigorous second theme were both attractively phrased and the Quartet made the most of the effective passages in which the composer juxtaposes two bowed instruments against two played pizzicato. The ensuing scherzo had a fitting business of motion and a relishing of Borodin’s melodic fertility. The Nocturne was played lyrically, without over-indulgence, the dialogue of cello and violin persuasively done, and that theme got its full due. The rondo Finale was largely relaxed and generally full of brio. But for all of the Edinburgh Quartet’s evident enthusiasm for the work, and their accomplished advocacy on its behalf, I found myself conscious of how relatively lightweight a piece it is heard after the Haydn. The whole has lyrical charm, certainly, and that is no mean thing. But programming it next to mature Haydn of such quality served, in part, to reveal the limitations of Borodin’s quartet (the first is surely a finer work?). One missed here the weight of humanity so evident in Haydn; Borodin seemed relatively slight in comparison. But that is no reflection on the quality of the Edinburgh Quartet’s reading of the work – in Haydn and Borodin alike they were an object lesson in ensemble work, in seriousness without undue solemnity and in musical communication. Here’s to the next fifty years of the Quartet!

Glyn Pursglove