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        Benjamin BRITTEN (1913-1976) String Quartet No. 1 in D, Op. 25 [24:11]
 String Quartet No. 2 in C, Op. 36 [26:53]
 String Quartet No. 3, Op. 94 [24:49]
 Takács Quartet
 rec. Concert Hall, Wyastone Estate, Monmouth, 12-15 February 2013
 HYPERION CDA68004 [75:55]
 
Since they found a home with Hyperion the Takács Quartet have 
            wasted no time in shoring up their already enviable reputation; their 
            recording of the Schubert Quintet was loaded with accolades on all 
            sides. 
 This well-timed release of Britten’s numbered quartets, recorded 
            and released in the centenary year, will win them even more praise. 
            There is a wonderful intimacy to both their playing and the recorded 
            sound, but they’re not beyond making an unlovely sound when 
            they need to. You hear that right at the opening of the First Quartet: 
            the diatonic opening to the first movement sounds mysterious, but 
            also oddly disconnected, as though it consisted of two strains of 
            music that were refusing to listen to one another. The players then 
            set about the main allegro section with arresting vigour and vitality. 
            In fact, it was here, especially, that their playing reminded me of 
            the muscularity and energy that they brought to their outstanding 
            Beethoven interpretations. Their playing also reminds you that this 
            was young man’s music, written to a commission when the 20-year 
            old composer was in the USA taking refuge from the Second World War. 
            The Allegretto second movement is played with a touch of tongue-in-cheek 
            humour, the players seeming to pose and answer questions from one 
            another like a communal chat. There is then a hushed warmth to the 
            opening of the slow movement, with an element of danger creeping into 
            the repeated notes of the central section; but overall it’s 
            an uncanny sense of communion that characterises the movement, whereas 
            it’s skittish invention that characterises the finale.
 
 The transparency of the playing lays open the harmonic inventiveness 
            of the Second Quartet’s first movement. Again, though, there 
            is an architectural vigour in the way they treat the themes, be it 
            the spidery harmonics or the warm, chorale-like chords. The work builds, 
            through the scherzo, to the climax of the third movement Chacony, 
            which is perhaps the climax of the whole disc. The Takács unmistakeably 
            grasp the scale of Britten’s structural genius here, and it 
            is as if their playing takes on a greater scale to match it. They 
            work their way through the kaleidoscopic range of variations with 
            consummate skill and a great ear for detail, bringing out the vast 
            range of differences over the essential unifying factor of the theme. 
            There is richness, depth, eeriness and beauty. The cadenzas that separate 
            each group of variations are played with incredible artistry, and 
            the repeated C major chords that end the movement seem to radiate 
            both affirmation and authority.
 
 The Third Quartet comes from 1975, towards the very end of the composer’s 
            life, after Death in Venice and Britten’s heart operation. 
            The sound world is perceptibly different from the very start. The 
            music seems to grope its way uncertainly into being, and Geraldine 
            Walther’s viola sounds particularly fantastic here, providing 
            what little anchoring the piece has at this point. When the more contrapuntal 
            elements do emerge there is still an element of insecurity hanging 
            over the music and the first movement comes to an end in predominant 
            mood of uncertainty. The two scherzo movements are played with much 
            more assertiveness, but that uncertain sense of searching permeates 
            the central slow movement, too. Again, the Takács players seem 
            to recapture that sense of disconnectedness that characterised the 
            very opening of the disc, and for a few moments this also filters 
            into the finale, permeated with its references to Death in Venice. 
            When the main theme kicks in around the three-minute mark, though, 
            the music seems gently to take on an uncanny combination of resignation 
            and purposefulness. As the movement progresses this seems to flower 
            into something profound, combining harmonic invention and melodic 
            security with an unavoidable sense of finality. It’s difficult 
            to shake off the fact that Britten was dying as he wrote this music, 
            and he must have known that his illness would finally finish him - 
            Colin Matthews acted as his amanuensis for much of the composition 
            process, and Britten struggled even to sit through a private performance 
            from the Amadeus Quartet in 1976. This sense of passing is underlined 
            even further, perhaps unconsciously, by the way the final bar seems 
            almost to break off in mid-sentence.
 
 The all-important sense of ambiguity, present to a greater or lesser 
            degree in all of this music - though perhaps especially in 
            the Third’s finale - is conveyed with the utmost delicacy and 
            discretion by the players, putting their interpretation towards the 
            top of the league table for these works.
 
 Anyone wanting to engage seriously with Britten’s quartets will 
            need to do business with the Belcea Quartet, who also provide some 
            of the youthful divertimenti, and the Sorrel Quartet on Chandos who 
            provide still more in their two disc edition, but the Takács’ 
            contribution to the Britten centenary is able to look those performers 
            in the face.
 
 Simon Thompson
 
 Britten discography & review index: String 
            quartets
 
 
   
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