A fabulous disc, musically. To have
David Oistrakh and Knushevitsky together
is special enough – to have the composer
Shostakovich as pianist in his own music
almost seems like spoiling us.
Production values are
a little pared down, however. We are
given a different running order on the
back cover than in the 'booklet'. The
notes focus almost exclusively on the
performers. A shame, given the musical
rewards.
The recording of the
Tchaikovsky sounds its age but nevertheless
succeeds in capturing the quartet's
wonderfully balanced sound. There is
excitement aplenty here, but perhaps
most importantly the players manage
to blend extreme sensitivity, near-abandon
and real passion in one supremely constructed
movement. The famous Andante cantabile
represents exploration of inner territory,
hushed and concentrated. If the players
do not completely let themselves go
in the third movement, just missing
the rusticity, it is as if they are
saving themselves for the finale. The
playing is at its warmest, most dedicated
and most authentically Russian here.
Miracles take place
in the Shostakovich, though. Right from
cellist Miloš Sádlo's astonishingly
controlled high (very high!)
harmonics at the opening, which emerge
as some sort of restrained banshee's
cry, it is clear this is to be something
special. The first movement is achingly
beautiful, every aspect delivered with
tremendous assurance from all parties.
Shostakovich's pianism is just right
here, his tone limpid, and he favours
the dry, low-pedal approach.
If the second movement
'Allegro non troppo' stretches the composer/pianist
rather - it is not 100% technically
polished - this is a real romp. Contrast
this with the recent Beaux Arts version,
which despite its squeaky-cleanness
misses the visceral excitement here
(Warner Classics 2564 62514-2, to be
reviewed shortly). A properly desolate
Largo begins with the famous deep-toned
piano chords sonorous but affected by
wow somewhat. No matter – the string
players sing as if possessed by the
most grievous sadness. In these hands
this movement is transfigured to the
highest lament. In the finale’s typical
shadowy dance control is all – talking
of which, try 1'06 for the most magical
subito pp. This then moves through
real fantasy to a fragmentary end that,
in this case, seems the only way the
piece could ever have concluded. Superb,
and interpretatively beyond criticism.
Finally, we come to
the Andante con moto of Schubert's D810.
I am trying desperately not to describe
the opening as ghostly for obvious
reasons, so perhaps veiled will
have to do. There is no doubt that the
players are fully immersed in this dark
world, delighting in Schubert's immensely
fertile imagination. There is some distortion
here, but musically this is gripping.
A thought-provoking close to a disc
of many wonders.
Colin Clarke
see also
review by Jonathan Woolf
David Oistrakh, acPyotr Bondarenko
(violins); acMikhail Terian (viola);
acSviatoslav Knushevitsky, bMiloš
Sádlo (cellos); bDmitri Shostakovich
(piano). 
for
details
