The Lindsays’ most
recent Beethoven cycle goes from strength
to strength. The C sharp minor quartet
is one of the pinnacles of the repertoire,
requiring almost superhuman powers of
concentration from its interpreters.
The Lindsays join the select few ensembles
who can scale these heights with success
– in modern times, the Alban Berg Quartet,
The Talich Quartet (on Calliope) and
(in an inferior recording) the Quartetto
Italiano; from a previous era the great
Busch Quartet springs straight to mind.
Another strength of
ASV’s series is the booklet notes by
Richard Wigmore. Fascinatingly informative,
he has a knack of putting things in
precisely the right way. And no-one,
surely, would argue with his description
of the first movement of Op. 131 as
‘sublime’. Here, it certainly exudes
an Olympian calm. It has to be admitted
that the bow-work of the lead violin,
Peter Cropper, can be less than 100%
smooth, but despite this, the music
makes a memorable impact. Or maybe one
should say because of it, for there
is an almost frighteningly emaciated
aspect to this Adagio (ma non troppo
e molto espressivo) held within a deliberate
reticence that makes the arrival of
an sf at 1’39 seem a most welcome
addition to the sound-scape. The predominant
impression is of a restful surface that
has hidden undercurrents – undercurrents
that do not lie far beneath the chilly
top.
The second movement
makes explicit these self-same undercurrents.
Nervy, highly strung, it leads into
the similarly unsettled Allegro moderato,
which with its disruptive mood-juxtapositions
makes a huge impression completely out
of kilter with its actual temporal length
(a mere 46 seconds). When the fourth
movement creeps in, the marking of ‘molto
cantabile’ is once more under an umbrella
of barely-concealed stress. This remarkable
central movement (13’31) requires interpreters
of the calibre of The Lindsays to control
and prolong the concentration - and
they succeed beyond all question.
Nothing could be greater
than the contrast of the fifth movement,
and The Lindsays convey all the grim
humour contained therein, especially
the disjunct final pages with their
remarkable spectral scoring. The poignancy
of the sixth movement is almost heart-breaking
– just as well it is only two minutes
long – before the seventh and final
movement unleashes the angry, gruff
side of Beethoven. The Lindsays are
certainly not afraid of what might be
termed ‘un-beautiful’ sounds – a rawness
that conveys all the inherent anger
of this music.
To hear this performance
is a strangely compelling yet ultimately
unsettling experience, which, of course,
is precisely as it should be. If there
is a problem, it is the one of old that
Peter Cropper can get rather carried
away and his tuning can go wayward,
but it is nowhere near as pronounced
here as it can be heard under live conditions.
The Quartet in F, Op.
135 was Beethoven’s last completed quartet
(he still had the replacement finale
to Op. 130 ahead of him). If there is
an element of a return to Classical
forms in its nicely-behaved four movement
structure and a Haydnesque caprice to
the very opening, the quartet remains
unmistakably late Beethoven (as Wigmore
points out in his notes). A pity Cropper’s
intonation at around 1’50 in the second
movement Vivace spoils an otherwise
involving experience, notable for its
rhythmic buoyancy.
The third movement
(Lento assai, cantante e tranquillo)
invokes the intensity of Op. 131 – especially
the silences, that here have that hold-your-breath-quality
about them. Cast in variation form (so
beloved of Beethoven in his late works),
its shadow hangs over the finale. Titled
‘Der schwer gefasste Entschluss’ (‘The
difficult decision’), it wrestles with
an unspecified question, the answer
to which is a determined, ‘Es muss sein’
– ‘It must be’. If only some tuning
problems up top again had not distracted,
The Lindsays’ version could so easily
have been at the top of the tree.
Nevertheless, this
disc represents a noteworthy achievement.
Colin Clarke
The Lindsays (Peter Cropper, Ronald Birks,
violins; Robin Ireland, viola; Bernard Gregor-Smith,
cello). 