I had never heard of
Nikolaus Brass before acquiring this
CD, and having a quick hunt through
the internet I wasn’t able to find out
a great deal beyond the short biography
which is given in the booklet notes.
He was born in Lindau, on Lake Constance,
and published his first compositions
while still in school there. He studied
and still practises medicine, and received
private tuition in composition from
teachers who included Helmut Lachenmann.
He has received numerous awards and
been performed at many of Europe’s leading
contemporary music festivals.
Looking at the timings
of the two main works on this disc,
and one might expect multi-movement
blockbusters. erinnern und vergessen
– String Quartet No.3 is indeed
divided into two unequal sections, but
scale in this work has little to do
with divisions, being a strange journey
through time, shaped by often gentle,
intimate gestures. There is a certain
amount of tonal disorientation brought
about by the use of microtones, but
once you accept the unfamiliar intervals
and melodic relationships as having
these close-knit connections as part
of their musical DNA, the ear can learn
to accept the language and begin to
appreciate some of its expressive strength.
At first, the uncomfortably rocking
asymmetrical melodic see-saws and glissandi
can seem meandering and formless, but
you have to give this kind of music
the time in which it exists – and the
time beyond, in which it remains in
your imagination. Listeners already
familiar with the kinds of framework
in which Morton Feldman’s music exist
will have fewer problems: Feldman was
indeed a pivotal influence on Brass
when they met during the Darmstadt Summer
Courses in 1980 and 1989.
Where the String
Quartet No.3 is said to be more
overtly expressive and introverted,
the String Quartet No.2 as Brass
explains, ‘seeks with all its intensity
to preserve the moment of the now before
it slips away irretrievably.’ The close
intervals cluster into knotted lengths
of muted string sounds at the opening
of the work, and this veiled reaching
out from and into the depths of some
surreal world of sound and expression
are a characteristic of Brass’s idiom.
The strings are rarely played conventionally,
instead portraying thin and ghostly
shadows of flautando, or vibrato-free
brushstrokes, the bows often barely
touch the strings. A strange unisono
melody is telegraphed, or low murmurings
suggest secretive discussions, the beginnings
and endings of which never being clearly
delineated. It is as if we are at the
centre of two vanishing points, receiving
fragments or partial images of messages
being passed between invisible places,
just beyond a horizon of silence.
The earliest work on
the disc, ohne titel, has a connection
to the sculpture of its dedicatee, one
K.H. Hoffmann – on whom I have been
unable to find any further information.
The sonic fingerprints of the later
works are present in this one in more
compact, rather more conventional in
execution but still distinctively elusive.
The last of the movements has an almost
mechanical pattern, developing in cyclic
sentences, while others shape music
into a kind of metaphor for itself,
poetic, but with an open message welcoming
the listeners own associations.
The Auritus Quartet
of Munich premiered both of the significant
later works, and have the subtly disturbing
world of all ingrained into their psyche.
You can’t imagine hearing better performances,
especially when the musicians have clearly
worked closely with the composer and
understand his intentions exactly. The
recording is very good as well, detailed
and dynamic without being too remorselessly
analytical. As with any ‘new’ music,
I can’t promise this will be your cup
of tea. You might start listening to
this thinking, ‘gawd, not more modern
squeaky-gate stuff!’, but if you have
ears and a brain and the time and space
to listen properly, you won’t be thinking
that by the time you’ve finished.
Dominy Clements
for details
Auritus Quartet 
