Brass quartets can
be most rewarding, as I discovered with
the recent Tetraphonics disc of 20th-century
music for four saxophones. Far from
being an assault on the ears it turned
out to be chockful of challenging music
very well played [review].
But at least there is some original
music for sax quartet, which is not
the case with trombones. Hence the Munich
quartet’s Thomas Horch decided to make
his own arrangements of pieces written
for other instruments and ensembles.
An arranger and academic
Horch is no mean player either, having
been principal trombonist with the Berlin
Philharmonic from 1987 to 1989. At the
time this recording was made – in 1996
– Dany Bonvin and Uli Pförtsch
were principals with the Munich Philharmonic
and Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra
respectively, while Volker Hensiek played
bass trombone in the Bamberg Symphony.
As much as I wanted
to enjoy the earlier items I found there
simply wasn’t enough variety of timbre
and dynamic to hold my attention for
long. The Praetorius dances – two ballets,
a galliard and a courant – are all despatched
in ringing style but there is an relentless
quality to the music-making that may
deter all but the most dedicated brass
fans. Yes, the Bach Prelude and Fugue
is neatly done, the opening of the prelude
especially sonorous, but there is little
character here. The fugue fares rather
better, with some deft articulation,
but ultimately it all seems a little
bloodless.
The Boismortier – originally
scored for three flutes and continuo
– is cast in the form Adagio-Allegro-Largo-Allegro,
the faster movements full of brio and
bite, the Largo characterised by a pleasing
instrumental blend and real gravitas.
Perhaps a warmer, more expansive acoustic
might have helped to tame the trombones’
natural edge, especially in the more
exposed upper registers.
Some extra ‘air’ would
certainly been welcome in the ‘horn
call’ at 4:06 in the Rossini but that
said the players achieve some wonderful,
rich sonorities in the run-up to the
famous gallop. The latter is dashed
off in great style; surely one of the
more invigorating and infectious arrangements
on this disc.
Curiously Barber’s
Adagio, derived from the second
movement of his String Quartet No. 1,
Op. 11, has become synonymous with sadness
and tragedy. Indeed, listeners of BBC
Radio 4’s Today programme voted
it the ‘saddest’ piece of classical
music ever written. The natural timbre
of the trombone – especially in the
lower registers – may lend itself to
mourning but to their credit the Munich
quartet invest the long, flowing melodies
with a genuine sense of nobility. The
climax is splendid but it’s the gentle
ending that is most moving. This really
is exceptional playing, sensitively
done.
The Petite Suite
is not the work Debussy wrote for four
hands in 1869 but a suite of the arranger’s
own choosing. First up is the delightful
Minstrels from Book I of the
Préludes. Delectably sprung,
the piece has all the harmonic colouring
of the piano original plus a real sense
of fun. Taken from the same book The
Girl with the Flaxen Hair is rather
more serene – after all it is marked
Très calme et doucement espressif
– eliciting some secure and surprisingly
tender playing. There’s nothing restrained
about the jazz-inflected rhythms of
Golliwog’s Cakewalk, from Children’s
Corner (1908). Again the
quartet bring a welcome degree of spontaneity
to the music, especially in the staccato
chords that pepper the piece.
They also rise to the
rather different rhythmic challenges
of Brahms’s 3rd and 4th
Hungarian Dances, which come
across with plenty of vigour. As a foil
to this Magyar moodiness comes the Italianate
warmth of the overture to Donizetti’s
comic masterpiece Don Pasquale.
Full of wit and point this is a real
test of the trombonists’ expressive
skills. Needless to say they are more
than equal to the task.
This disc gets better
with repeated listening, but I still
feel the early pieces are the least
successful. From the Barber onwards
matters improve, though; it’s impossible
not to smile at the humour of the Cakewalk
or bask in the genial warmth of Pasquale.
The liner-notes – in English and German
– are surprisingly informal, which gives
you a pretty good idea of the players’
approach to the music. Well worth a
spin, even if this isn’t your usual
fare.
Dan Morgan